novelraw Chapter 6 : Gold Coin (2)
Chapter 6 : Gold Coin (2)
Chapter 6: Gold Coin (2)
Fut! Fut!
A tearing sound pierced through the air.
The bronze Avalokiteshvara statue and the swan porcelain figurine displayed on the pawnshop shelf shattered.
Thud! Crash!
As the decapitated statue and the broken porcelain body fell to the floor, Gyojin, lying flat on the ground, saw it and screamed.
“Ahh! That’s worth 450,000, 1.2 million won!”
“Damn it, my earlobe’s torn!”
Sa Gyeom cursed while lying prone, clutching his torn earlobe ripped by the passing bullet.
Fut!
Even with the curtains drawn, a bullet lodged itself into the shelf where Sa Gyeom was.
The jade-carved phoenix and the limited-edition cuckoo clock shattered in succession.
Seeing the fragments of the artworks scatter brilliantly, Gyojin let out a childlike scream.
“Aaagh! That’s 3 million won! Ah! The limited-edition clock I put up for auction! The shop’s items!”
“You bastard!”
As the threatening gunfire continued, Gyojin and Sa Gyeom lay flat on the ground, covering their heads with their arms.
Under the barrage of bullets, the outer window facing the street was completely destroyed.
Crash!
As the shop fell into chaos, Cheon Bigang leisurely stood up and picked up a luxury brand fork from the shelf.
“I’ll step out for a moment.”
Fut!
Dust rose from Cheon Bigang’s shoulder.
Lacking any concept of modern firearms, Cheon Bigang thought this ambush was an assassination using hidden weapons.
Fut! Fut!
Without any intention of dodging, Cheon Bigang exposed his body, and bullets embedded themselves into his chest and abdomen.
He gauged the power contained within the bullets.
‘……Compared to the Sichuan Tang Family, known for their unparalleled hidden weapon techniques, the power is far inferior. But to produce this level of force with mere projectiles, without any internal energy, is somewhat surprising.’
Historically, weapons using gunpowder appeared before martial arts that accumulated internal energy.
However, due to their high cost and difficulty of use, the imperial palace had prohibited the use of gunpowder weapons.
‘But in this era, they said anyone can use them.’
Thud.
A bullet struck Cheon Bigang’s cheek.
The projectile clung to his skin as if embedding into rubber, and he plucked it out with his fingers.
His skin turned slightly red from the light bruise.
The next bullet grazed past his shoulder.
Judging by the sudden drop in accuracy, he could feel that his opponent was flustered.
“Let’s see.”
Jingle.
Cheon Bigang stepped outside the shop.
Startled by the gunfire, people were fleeing in all directions.
Fut!
A bullet aimed at his glabella.
Cheon Bigang’s hand moved like an afterimage and snatched the bullet right in front of his face.
Feeling the lead round spinning violently in his palm, his gaze turned toward the building on the right.
“Found you.”
In the direction of the rising sun—
On the rooftop of a low building, where the glare made it hard to see clearly, a faint shadow was visible.
Twisting his waist, Cheon Bigang threw the fork.
Shoo!
Though most of the internal energy he had accumulated over a thousand years had dissipated due to being sealed, his body—having undergone rebirth—remained stronger than that of ordinary martial artists, even in its weakened state.
The fork pierced through the air and embedded itself into the shadow.
A man’s agonized scream erupted from the rooftop.
“Gaaah! My eye! My eye!”
Bang!
Cheon Bigang leapt across the road toward the building.
Kicking off the outer wall and window frames in succession, he reached the rooftop where the attacker was.
The sniper, with a fork embedded in his left eye, spotted Cheon Bigang, threw away his sniper rifle, and drew the combat knife strapped to his waist.
“You bastard! I’ll kill you!”
“I’ll commend your courage for not running.”
“Shut up!”
Having lost one eye and his sanity, the sniper charged at Cheon Bigang with the knife.
A faint white glow shimmered along the surface of the blade.
Sizzle—
Like heated iron plunged into water, a crackling noise spread across the blade’s surface.
“Die!”
Lowering his upper body, the sniper thrust toward Cheon Bigang’s solar plexus.
Despite losing depth perception from one eye, the distance of the strike was precise.
“Crude.”
Facing him directly, Cheon Bigang shifted his body to avoid the blade and reached out, grabbing the sniper’s shoulder.
“……!”
Before the sniper could react, Cheon Bigang lifted him into the air.
As his body flipped, the sniper kicked toward him.
But Cheon Bigang was faster.
As if tossing away something bothersome, he slammed the man into the rooftop floor.
Boom!
The sniper’s body bounced reflexively upon impact.
“Urgh…!”
The blow to the back of his head caused a mild concussion, and he lost consciousness.
“Even a scarecrow wouldn’t be hit by such sloppy sword energy.”
Cheon Bigang approached the fallen sniper, bent down, and grasped the fork embedded in his right eye.
The intense pain jolted the unconscious man awake, and he gasped.
“Aaagh! My eye!”
“You wouldn’t claim that someone who fires hidden weapons at others doesn’t understand this kind of pain, would you?”
Leaving the eyeball intact, Cheon Bigang pulled out the fork.
Fut.
The sniper screamed as if molten iron had pierced through his face.
“Aaagh!”
While the sniper writhed in agony, Cheon Bigang heard the sound of tires screeching from the road.
A vehicle coming to a sudden stop.
“Well now?”
Approaching the rooftop railing, he saw a van blocking the front of the Heavenly Demon Pawnshop.
Three sturdy masked men got out of the vehicle and kicked open the pawnshop door.
“A diversion.”
With an amused expression, Cheon Bigang watched as Gyojin and Sa Gyeom, with sacks over their heads, were dragged out by the masked men.
Even if he jumped down onto the van now, he could stop them—but he simply watched.
“Don’t run.”
Without even turning his head, Cheon Bigang threw the fork behind him.
The fork cut through the air and embedded itself into the thigh of the sniper who had been trying to flee to the opposite building.
Thud.
The force caused the sniper to lose balance, spin, and slam face-first into the rooftop railing.
“Aagh!”
His face twisted in pain as he collapsed.
‘Damn it! I’m screwed! That bastard! He’s insanely strong!’
Martial artists tended to have petty pride, often regarding anyone stronger than themselves as an unparalleled master.
The sniper was no different.
‘It’s fine… calm down. This is a diversion anyway. If I stall for time, they can take hostages at the shop. But… why is that bastard just watching?’
The sniper suddenly realized that Cheon Bigang had been watching the shop being attacked.
In less than thirty seconds, the van sped off.
Even then, Cheon Bigang stood at the railing, watching the kidnapping with an entertained expression.
Shiver.
A chill ran down the sniper’s spine.
Something was wrong.
As the vehicle disappeared, Cheon Bigang turned and approached him.
“So they’re not taking you along?”
“W-wait! You saw it, right? The hostages are in our hands! So—”
“So what?”
“We—we have the hostages!”
Cheon Bigang sneered.
“And what do you think you can do with that? Kill them? Cut off their fingers one by one and send them to me? Torture them? And you think that would affect me? Truly? Look me in the eyes and answer. What do I look like to you?”
“…….”
Gasp.
The sniper’s breath caught.
The moment he met Cheon Bigang’s dark gaze, he felt an incomprehensible shock, as if his mind were being torn in half.
There was no trace of agitation or fear in those eyes—only hatred and fury aimed at destroying the opponent.
Only then did the sniper realize—
The monstrous being before him had long since dried up all its tears.
When he should feel sorrow, he would rage. When he should feel fear, he would destroy.
Everything that displeased him.
The hostage’s life was not a bargaining chip to him.
The moment he realized that, memories of joy from his life surfaced.
Holding his mother’s hand at the market, his first kiss, the sense of achievement when he first manifested sword energy, the espresso he drank at a strange café, puppies running along the beach—and the future that still awaited him.
All of those memories were about to be trampled by the monster before him.
Tears welled in the sniper’s remaining eye.
He was not ready to lose the joy of life.
It was pure selfishness.
“P-please… spare me…”
“Then speak. Where did your comrades go? I have something I want to ask.”
“Yes… I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. Thank you… thank you…”
The sniper, completely dominated by Cheon Bigang, kept bowing his head without pause, forgetting even the pain in his eye and thigh.
---
An old warehouse.
After the shipping company went bankrupt, the warehouse they owned had been left abandoned, rusting away.
Creak—
The van returned to the warehouse, crushing overgrown weeds beneath its tires.
“Out, get out!”
“Mmph!”
Three masked men dragged Gyojin and Sa Gyeom out of the backseat, sacks still over their heads.
They seated them on chairs abandoned in the warehouse and cuffed their hands behind the backrests to prevent escape.
Sa Gyeom shouted.
“You bastards! Reveal your identities!”
“Shut up.”
Thud.
At the punch from a masked man, Sa Gyeom’s head snapped to the side.
The man who threw the punch rubbed his wrist and spoke.
“Alright, preparations are done. Shall we talk? Scream all you want—this is private property of a bankrupt shipping company. No one’s around.”
When the kidnappers removed their hoods, Gyojin and Sa Gyeom frowned.
Inside the old warehouse with holes in the roof were weapons, ammunition boxes, and a table with poker cards spread across it.
The masked kidnappers conversed.
“……According to the message, that guy failed the sniping and is fleeing into the city.”
“Is he coming here?”
“No. He’s heading the opposite way.”
“Idiot. Tell him to hide properly. And not die.”
“Got it.”
Clap.
The masked man who had struck Sa Gyeom clapped his hands, shifting the atmosphere.
He was the leader.
Dragging a chair in front of Gyojin, he sat on it backward, resting his arms on the backrest.
“Kid.”
“……?”
“There should be an emblem in your house that symbolizes the Kowloon Seven Swords. Like a badge you wear on your chest. Remember it?”
Though his face was covered, his eyes gleamed with undisguised greed.
Suppressing his fear, Gyojin spoke.
“How much is the Black Tiger Sect paying you? If it’s money, I have some too. How about double?”
“Kid, when an adult asks first, you answer first.”
“The badge? I don’t know.”
Gyojin shook his head innocently.
“Hah. You don’t understand when spoken to nicely, huh? Hey, bring the pliers.”
“Yes, boss.”
At the leader’s command, a subordinate retrieved a toolbox containing hammers, nails, and pliers from among the stacked weapons and ammunition.
Not proper torture tools, but often used as a temporary measure.
Taking out the pliers, the subordinate approached Sa Gyeom and crouched behind his chair.
Sa Gyeom panicked.
“Huh? What? Why me? What are you doing? Huh? Ah—wait! My fingernail! What—wait—!”
“Shut up.”
Crunch.
The pliers clamped tightly onto the tip of Sa Gyeom’s pinky fingernail.
His heart dropped.
Even without imagining it, he knew exactly what would happen next.
The leader gave Gyojin another chance.
“Look over there. From now on, you better answer properly. Otherwise, things will get very noisy. That emblem—your house has it, right?”
“…….”
“Kid. Silence isn’t the answer I want.”
At the leader’s glance, the subordinate yanked hard.
Crack.
With a sickening sound, Sa Gyeom’s fingernail twisted and was ripped out.
“AAAAAAARGH! You fucking bastards! Why me?! Why?! Why?! Why?!”
Sa Gyeom thrashed wildly, his face flushed red.
Blood dripped beneath the rattling chair.
The leader asked again.
“Kid, if you say something else this time, we’ll pull out two of his nails. Hey, hold him.”
“Fuck! You bastards! Why again?! Why only me?! What did I do?! I don’t know anything! That emblem or whatever!”
“Shut up.”
Thud.
As Sa Gyeom struggled violently, the man with the pliers struck the back of his head.
“Aaagh! What did I do?! Don’t grab me! Don’t! Stop! Stop!”
Feeling the cold metal clamp onto his ring fingernail, Sa Gyeom screamed like he was dying.
“I’m dying! You said you’d spare me! Kid! Keep your promise!”
As Sa Gyeom screamed, the leader leaned closer to Gyojin.
Unaware that someone was watching everything.
“Kid. Tell me about the Kowloon Seven Swords emblem, and your house safe’s location and password. Next, it’ll be your nails too. And don’t think anyone’s coming to save you. That guy is probably busy playing tag in the city by now.”
“I don’t think that.”
“What?”
“A man dies for friendship, and father and son live on through succession. That’s our family motto.”
“……?”
Whoosh.
Freeing his hands from the cuffs, Gyojin tossed a coin-sized object into the air.
A magnetic bomb.
Drawing a parabola, it landed atop an ammunition crate.
Beep.
With the timer’s signal, a thermite reaction ignited, spewing intense flames.
“…Fuck.”
The anti-tank rocket warhead inside the ammunition box detonated from the heat, engulfing the kidnappers’ leader.