Chapter 46
Jaun and Jaseong.
From the moment I first saw the two younger brothers I realized something.
They had entered as disciples of the peak master Dusanbaek, yet neither of them had properly learned any martial art.
If they’d trained with weapons there would be calluses on their palms; if they’d trained in bare-handed techniques the knuckles of their hands would be prominent — but none of that was visible.
However.
Despite showing no signs of formal martial training, their bodies looked unexpectedly sturdy.
“Have they been training on their own?”
Their shoulders were reasonably tense and their spines held straight. Especially, their lower-body balance was remarkably solid — their thighs stood out even though they wore loose-fitting trousers.
“Mabo, huh.”
Mabo — the posture used for riding horses — is actually a very good foundational training method. But it’s painful and monotonous, so it’s harder than people think to keep at it alone. It looked like the two of them had kept at it together. Since mabo is easy to imitate without an instructor, it’s one of the few training methods they could do together.
Was it compensation for the body doing the hard work instead of the mind? Maybe.
But what mattered more was what I saw in them.
“Training is important, but you know that training alone won’t make you strong.”
They were barely legal adults; they wouldn’t have trained this hard just for their health. They must have had a goal — something they wanted to achieve — and had been pouring themselves into it. There was one thing I could do for such men.
Help make sure that will didn’t break, and that they could continue. And I had more than enough ability to do that. I could confidently say I knew more martial arts than almost anyone under heaven. But before anything, I needed to confirm it with them. Even the throne can be refused by the person who would sit on it. Perhaps they weren’t really interested in martial arts the way I guessed.
“If you want, I’ll teach you proper martial arts so you can become stronger.”
I asked Jaun and Jaseong again. I waited, planning to respect whatever answer they gave. Finally, they delivered the answer they’d decided on.
“I want to learn.” “Me too, hyung!”
It was a simple, clear answer that made the long hesitation look foolish. When I asked why they had hesitated,
“Hyung, you told me before — even if a merchant seems to know the right move, you should think it over at least three times before choosing.”
So the saying from the family’s golden-lettered gate had stuck with him too. Jaun seemed born with both material and talent alongside Muje. As for Jaseong—
“This still feels like a dream.”
Jaseong’s eyes were moist. The sight reminded me of the hardships that boy must have endured. For that boy I made a vow: if this is a dream, I won’t let him wake from it.
There was something else I had to do with Jaun and Jaseong first.
Apologize. No matter the intention, the fact remained that they had beaten the household members; apologizing came first.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Jaun and Jaseong sincerely went to the people they had harmed and apologized. Their apologies were easily accepted. Those people already knew the boys’ characters, so they believed they wouldn’t have done such a thing for no reason. They even seemed to have already heard about the incident between me and the Gujunghoe warriors; some of them even commiserated that it must have been hard living among such men. We let the brothers have their crys without comment. There was a person who cried even harder later — Geumdanmok. When we visited Geumdanmok with Jaun and Jaseong he burst into tears on the spot. Later, when he calmed down, I learned he had been worried the brothers might quarrel. Jaun and Jaseong knelt and apologized to Geumdanmok as well, because he had imagined such a fight after their household members were mistreated without his being informed.
I hadn’t expected a grown man to shed tears like that. I wasn’t poking fun — quite the opposite. At first I’d been half skeptical, but by now I could say with some certainty: Geumdanmok was a good father. I wasn’t going to give him that praise to his face, but maybe he already knew.
Anyway, the urgent matters were settled for the day.
“Rest now and we’ll have breakfast together tomorrow.”
After sending Jaun and Jaseong off, I didn’t return to my lodgings. I quietly climbed over the wall of the Geumhwa Merchant Guild. One last thing needed handling before the night ended. From the moment Sahun had explained the situation, I had decided to change the plan. Initially I’d planned to deal with things after Dusanbaek reached Geumhwa and caused trouble — now, because Nokrim had already become an issue, I would handle it sooner. If done right, I could divert Gujunghoe’s attention toward Nokrim.
“It’ll be better if they fight.”
A knife-wielding robber versus a bandit — whoever wins, it would at least be entertaining if they fought. Of course, the two were unlikely to clash. They both lacked honor, so they wouldn’t make themselves bloodied for no gain. Still, if I could turn Gujunghoe’s attention onto Nokrim as in the original plan, that would be enough. To put that plan into action I called that name again.
“Sahun.”
I seemed to be calling that name too often lately, but what could I do? Sahun was extremely useful — especially now. Sahun was a high-level operative unmatched by anyone for finding people. The reapers were used to searching out people; though they normally only intervene with the near-dead or the dead, they were unsurpassed in this kind of work.
‘I had a feeling you’d call sometime around now, so I was waiting.’
Despite calling him frequently recently, Sahun wasn’t reluctant — he said he’d been waiting. And he was even more capable than I’d thought.
‘If you’re searching for that Dusanbaek, I’ve already located him. Shall I guide you?’
Of course. It was impressive. This was one reason I’d changed my mind earlier and decided to teach martial arts — not the exact Jahashin-gong he’d wanted, but still. Who knows? Maybe one day my whim would change again and I’d teach Jahashin-gong too. One thing I’d learned at the sword school was that rewards and punishments should be clear. If Sahun continued to help me persistently, there was no reason I couldn’t reward him. Of course, that help would have to be truly significant. Still, leaving the possibility open signaled that I valued Sahun. I didn’t plan to mention that to him; voluntary help is more meaningful than help given for a bribe. Maybe that was petty of me — but what of it? As long as I didn’t get found out, it was fine.
“Please, then.”
Sahun nodded and took the lead, flying off. I followed without trouble and then, curious, I asked him something.
‘Isn’t it burdensome to interfere in human affairs like this?’
We were going to kill people. From a reaper’s viewpoint — one who records deaths in the ledger — such meddling might be distasteful. Sahun shook his head.
‘To tell the truth, if it were to harm the righteous I might not have helped the noble. Conversely, nothing is more exciting than dealing with wicked people. I’m thrilled right now.’
He said even in the afterlife, people preferred to go after the wicked rather than the righteous — because when folks are misbehaving you can legitimately beat them up. True enough, the afterlife would be harsher toward evildoers.
‘So that’s why there’s a hell.’
Hearing that put me at ease. I thought about hell for a moment.
‘Even if I exclude the ones already killed, I don’t know how many more I’ll have to kill.’
Hell would probably be certain, wouldn’t it? I snorted rather than felt fear.
‘I’m past being able to live righteously now.’
If hell was a sure thing anyway, I might as well go out with a bang — send a lot of scum there before I followed. Who knows? If hell filled up, they might tell me not to come. Fine — it gave my life a goal.
‘To avoid going to hell myself…’
I’d kill the ones who deserved death. The problem, of course, would be where to set the standard. If it proved difficult, I could always ask Sahun. If someone was definitely headed for hell after death, kill them; if it was ambiguous, spare them for now. When I told Sahun this he burst out laughing.
He liked the idea and agreed to help enthusiastically. Even if reapers or the judge of the dead complained, he said,
‘If it becomes a problem, I’ll go to hell with you.’
Sahun explained with a laugh that hell is vast; to fill it completely one would have to process every evil person in the world without exception — that sounded like a lot. Still,
“Well, let’s give it a shot.”
Even if we failed, filling hell with lots of hellbound buddies wouldn’t make life there lonely.
“With that in mind, at this pace when will we ever finish dealing with those bastards?”
Sahun nodded.
‘I was just thinking the same. I’ll speed things up.’
After that, Sahun’s speed was absurd. To give an idea, he covered a distance that would normally take two days in under half a day. Huffing and puffing, we barely kept up even with him using spiritual power. When I asked him at the destination, he said the speed had been tuned to accommodate me. It wasn’t surprising — a reaper who travels the world gathering souls shouldn’t be slow. Still, even catching my breath I was curious.
“Huff! Huff! Is there a way I can fly like that?”
If it were some movement technique I could imitate by watching, I would have tried. But since he just flew, what could I learn? Half in jest I asked. I had already learned the spiritual sight from a reaper — maybe there was a way to fly too? Unexpectedly the reply came back.
‘There is a method.’
“There is?”
‘But it won’t be easy to learn.’
Even before hearing it would be hard, I was shocked that such a thing existed. Legendary agility techniques like void-walking only let you step on the air to jump — but to actually fly? I wondered what it’d feel like. So even if it was difficult, I said I wanted to learn. He answered,
‘First, we’ll need the Minggye fruit that grows only in the Samdocheon of the underworld, and the Gwihon fruit that grows only in the Avici (Wuji) of hell.’
None of this sounded normal.
