Chapter 21: Rumors of a Dead Mad Dog

The Black Snake Gang martial artists, who had been watching the situation unfold, tensed up at the unexpected turn of events and gripped their weapons.

They realized that there was no one present who could have visually tracked the series of movements Hyeonwol had just displayed.

Feeling the taut atmosphere, Hyeonwol glanced around the room once, then tilted his head and spoke again in that warm voice.

“I said, call your gang leader?”

“Look here, you’re alone and don’t know your place…!”

Of course, there are always those who can’t read the room.

As the hot-blooded martial artists charged toward him, Hyeonwol grinned.

He too had once been a young man charging around like that.

He’d mellowed out a lot with age.

“Keuhak!”

“Ahk!”

As Hyeonwol swiftly swung something toward the martial artists who had suddenly closed in, a truly fierce striking sound echoed through the room.

The object in question was the folding fan he had taken from his bosom.

A piercing sound, unimaginable from a collision between a fan made of thin bamboo ribs and a human body, rang out repeatedly.

Around Hyeonwol, who hadn’t moved a single step since entering, people clutching their struck spots and writhing on the floor gradually piled up.

“Wha, what….”

“Keuuuk….”

Had about the time for one incense stick to burn passed?

By the time all those who had charged had fallen, and only those who hadn’t dared to go upstairs to call the gang leader, watching Hyeonwol’s mood, remained standing on two feet.

Hyeonwol, still in his neat posture, dusted off the sleeves of his black outer robe and the hem of his martial arts uniform.

Pat pat.

Well, that was today’s exercise done.

Soon, a low voice that made the hearts of those remaining drop echoed from him once more.

“Black Snake Gang Leader.

Not here?”

“Oh my, Great Hero!

How rare for you to grace us with a personal visit after so long!”

The Black Snake Gang Leader, who had rushed out sensing something amiss, confirmed the cause—Hyeonwol’s face—and came down from the upper floor almost rolling down the stairs.

Hyeonwol gently turned his head toward his familiar, scar-covered face.

“Gang Leader, looks like you’ve hired a lot of new recruits lately?”

“Ye, yes!

That’s because we’ve been short on people lately…!

They’re still very inexperienced in receiving guests.

I’ll discipline them properly from now on, so if you could generously overlook this for the sake of this old face….”

“What good is your face to me?

Anyway, I have something to discuss.

Spare a moment.”

“Oh my, of course.

Who am I to refuse your words?

I’d make time even if I had none!”

The Black Snake Gang Leader, bowing and scraping endlessly, escorted Hyeonwol with utmost devotion.

As he disappeared after shooting a fierce glare at his subordinates behind him, the senior members who had also come down from upstairs with the leader began berating the new members rolling on the floor.

“You bastards, still can’t break your old habits!

You need to pick your fights by looking at who you’re dealing with, you idiots!”

“No, who the hell is he anyway?”

“Ah, there is!

About ten years ago, he was a mad dog famous in the capital’s underworld… no, a slightly scary guy… but anyway, sometime later he apparently became part of Wolsigak.

You know if you mess with those people, keeping your head becomes difficult, right?!

If you see a fan with a vaguely bluish tassel, just crawl!”

The truth was, Hyeonwol was the one who created that Wolsigak.

Even if they didn’t know the detailed background like the senior members, the new members who had certainly experienced his martial prowess nodded gloomily.

His skill at avoiding vital spots and hitting only painful areas was frighteningly precise.

Except for the first two who charged, no one had fainted.

Meaning they’d taken the beating fully conscious.

“He hasn’t been seen much since sometime a few years ago.

What’s he suddenly here for?”

“Exactly.

Wasn’t it about five years?

Who started the rumor that he died doing work for Wolsigak?”

Hyeonwol, sitting on a chair on the second floor letting the conversation below go in one ear, turned his gaze to the Black Snake Gang Leader across from him, sweating profusely and smiling nervously.

It seemed false rumors were circulating among those unaware of the circumstances.

But the Gang Leader, even if through an agent, had frequently contacted him under the name Biwol, so he must have known his situation relatively well….

He’d just let those rumors slide.

He didn’t like it, but neither he nor the Gang Leader were idle enough to care about such trivial rumors, both busy with their own affairs.

So well… with a magnanimous heart, Hyeonwol understood and lifted the teacup before him, only to slip momentarily.

Crash! Along with the sound of the shattering teacup, the presences downstairs naturally fell into silence.

Before the frozen Gang Leader, Hyeonwol smiled calmly and spoke lightly.

“Oh dear, my hand slipped.

My apologies, Gang Leader.

Must be because I haven’t been long since I came back from the dead.”

“…I’ll discipline them well.

I’m truly sorry.”

Only when the Gang Leader’s head, with its deathly expression, was nearly buried in the table did Hyeonwol wave his hand.

But the Gang Leader still couldn’t relax.

Hyeonwol’s lips wore their usual smile, but he suspected that beneath it was anything but that warmth.

Hyeonwol, always acting appropriately for the time and place, simply knew well how to handle the black path crowd belonging to the underworld.

Hyeonwol stared blankly at the Gang Leader hurriedly brewing fresh tea, then suddenly brought up the reason for his visit.

“Seems like you’re not managing the back alleys well lately.

If it’s because you’re short on people, I’d understand, yes….

Is the situation that difficult?”

‘If you’re going to pressure me, just do it openly!’

The question ‘Is the situation that difficult?‘ likely meant that if he couldn’t handle things to that extent, he’d personally step in.

The Gang Leader wasn’t unaware that the seemingly innocent question contained anything but goodwill.

Twitching his mouth into a forced smile, he desperately chose his words.

He’d never seen anyone fare well after a single slip of the tongue before Hyeonwol.

“Ahaha, yes…

Lately, for various reasons like returning home or getting married, we’re subtly losing a lot of manpower.

Does the Great Hero remember?

Among the guys under me, there was Maeng Sam… the one with a mole under his eye.

That fellow also recently took his severance pay saying he was going back to his hometown and left a few days ago.”

“Ah, that fellow?

Last time I saw him, I thought he’d bury his bones in the Black Snake Gang.

Surprising.”

“Haha, I thought so too.

Don’t know what happened, but if he wants to go, what can I do?”

“Anyway, lots of people who were doing fine are leaving… I see.

So, conclusion?”

“It’s not a difficult situation at all.

I’ll discipline the kids properly!”

As the Gang Leader’s head threatened to bury itself in the table again, Hyeonwol finally dispersed his aura, genuinely smiled, and rose from his seat.

He looked ready to deliver his business as simply as always and then leave.

Nevertheless, the Gang Leader, still tense and watching Hyeonwol’s mood, flinched in surprise.

Because Hyeonwol, who had been heading toward the stairs leading down while suddenly opening and waving his fan, stopped and turned back toward him.

“Ah, and.”

“Ye, yes!”

“Tell them it’s bluish-gray.”

“Pardon?”

An abrupt, contextless statement.

Before the bewildered Gang Leader, Hyeonwol, smiling even more gently, declared firmly.

“Tell them it’s ‘bluish-gray,’ not ‘vaguely bluish.'”

“Ah.

Yes, of course.

As you wish!

Ahaha.

Leave it to me.”

Satisfied with the Gang Leader’s quick response, Hyeonwol resumed walking down the stairs.

Along with the fan with its ‘bluish-gray tassel’ harmoniously matching his white face, gently swaying near his chest.

His appearance belied the black outer robe and martial arts uniform that had seemed almost deadly.

Only long after his footsteps had passed the first floor and exited through the main gate did the Gang Leader relax the hospitality smile he had forced onto his face.

A subordinate who had stealthily approached cautiously spoke to him.

“G, Gang Leader-nim.

So what did that guy come for today?”

“…Call me.”

“Huh?”

With the person to bow to gone, having regained his true nature and with fiercely blazing eyes, the Gang Leader roared.

“Call me Noonim, not Gang Leader, you bastard!

How many times have I told you that one person calling me ‘Gang Leader’ devotedly is enough!

And right now, gather all the alley patrol kids.

The ones drinking since broad daylight, the ones with wives and kids, every single one!

Today is a bloody festival, you bastards!”

“Eep.

Yes, yes!”

Hyeonwol, now considerably far from the Black Snake Gang building, heard the distant roar and let out a hollow laugh.

The Gang Leader still seemed to dislike the title ‘Gang Leader.’

About ten years ago, it was Hyeonwol who had started calling them a ‘gang’ while making them, the Black Snake Band living like outlaws in the capital, a provisional subsidiary organization under Wolsigak.

Perhaps the resentment still lingered.

Though life was certainly easier now than back then.

Hyeonwol, thinking the pride of black path martial artists was truly mysterious, resumed walking.

Slowly crossing the alley, continuing his thoughts, the conversation he’d just heard naturally came to mind.

‘The reasons for leaving are returning home, marriage…

Extremely natural reasons, but.’

Considering the disappearances of a significant number of martial artists happening throughout the martial world recently, no, for quite a long period, it seemed difficult to view them positively.

Over the past five years, in the process of tracking the Blood Cult’s traces, the circumstances Hyeonwol discovered were extremely subtle and natural.

Of course, separately from that, the silent disappearances of orphans or the poor were always frequent in the world, but even if they enjoyed stable lives like common folk, martial artists were beings who might risk their necks in battle anytime, anywhere, so they were perceived as even more likely than the poor to disappear anytime, anywhere without raising suspicion.

Especially among martial artists, rōnin not affiliated with families or sects, or those inclined toward the black path—heretics—such perceptions were even stronger.

But what Hyeonwol’s investigation revealed was serious: these disappearances were evenly affecting even relatively unnoticed branch families or collateral disciples among those belonging to families and sects.

If the harm reached them, who knows how many unaffiliated martial artists had been caught up in it.

The information barely gleaned from circumstances cleverly disguised as accidents or homecomings was that among the unspecified individuals they’d encountered before disappearing, there were definitely those presumed to be Blood Cultists.

The Blood Cult’s long-cherished wish wasn’t just gathering martial artists to increase power, but the return of the Blood Heavenly God, who allegedly swept the world in ancient times.

What connection summoning their object of veneration back to this world had with the disappearances of martial artists was truly unknown at this point.

But it was certain that the Blood Cult’s schemes had been gnawing away at the entire martial world unnoticed for a long time.

Could it be that they had already begun reaching the capital?

Of course, there were surely those who left for genuine reasons like returning home or marriage….

Hyeonwol, his expression darkening, hurried his steps toward Wolsigak.

He thought he should investigate the well-being of Maeng Sam, the Black Snake Gang Leader’s subordinate.

To cut to the conclusion, whether unfortunate or fortunate, Hyeonwol’s plan was not realized.

Just as he was about to exit the alley, a group of people gathered beyond the alley caught his eye.

Six in total.

Their various appearances showed no unity as a group at first glance.

But judging by the atmosphere, they didn’t seem to have gathered idly.

As Hyeonwol paused to pay attention, he felt an uneasy current swirling among them.

Hiding his presence, observing their features from a distance, Hyeonwol suddenly realized the situation was worse than expected.

Because among them, he spotted a familiar face that should not be in the capital right now.

‘……Maeng Sam?’