Taiyuan. Silver Push Sect.
Taiyuan, the capital of Shanxi Province, was a place where no massive factions like the Nine Great Sects and One Gang or the Five Great Families held sway, making it prime territory for unorthodox groups to run wild.
And the Silver Push Sect had carved out a solid foothold in this very Taiyuan. Its sect leader, Ma Du-gwang, was a second-rate martial artist known by the moniker Blood Iron Hammer.
"Hoo... You pathetic bastards."
Ma Du-gwang sighed heavily, slamming his trusty iron club—his companion for thirty years—into the floor with dull thuds.
His bald pate flushed red with rage, and before him knelt his disciples on their knees.
"I told you to shake them down for money, and you come back after getting your asses handed to you? And you're supposed to be Silver Push Sect disciples?!"
"S-Sect Leader, that guy was impervious to swords and spears. Our weapons didn't work at all."
"We couldn't beat him."
"You idiots! Shut your mouths! Do you wanna become real morons?!"
"S-Sorry, Sect Leader."
Ma Du-gwang huffed through his nose, his face beet red.
"Don't you know if we look like fools around here, we're done for? What do you think the other unorthodox bastards will say about us?!"
In a mountain without a tiger, the fox reigns as king, or so they say.
With no major righteous sects around to wipe out evil groups, Taiyuan was crawling with foxes from various unorthodox factions, all eyeing each other hungrily for a chance to tear into one another.
So they couldn't let the other unorthodox scum see a sight like this. Otherwise, those wolf-like bastards would bare their fangs first thing.
'Damn it. Of all times, why did this have to blow up now?'
Ma Du-gwang glared murderously at his men before flicking his gaze to the left.
There stood a figure in black robes—the hallmark of an unorthodox warrior—leaning against the wall.
'Can't show a bad side to him.'
Normally, he'd be extra cautious with someone who'd wrecked five of his underlings, but this wasn't the time.
"Take your men and drag that bastard here."
"Huh? R-Right now?"
"Yeah. Go get him now. Bring him back alive. I wanna kill him myself."
"..."
His subordinates stared at Ma Du-gwang with baffled looks.
'Wait, didn't he just say weapons don't work on him?'
'I thought he said he's not someone we can handle.'
'This guy's just telling us to go kill ourselves.'
Thud!
"You going or not?"
As Ma Du-gwang slammed his iron club into the floor, his men scrambled up and grabbed their weapons.
They had plenty to say, but the club right in front of them was too terrifying to risk it.
"W-We'll be back, boss."
"You got half a shichen. Hurry up and bring him."
"Yes, sir!"
And so, about half of the Silver Push Sect's men set off to capture the mysterious assailant.
With twenty men instead of five, Ma Du-gwang figured the matter was settled. He approached the black-robed man cautiously.
"Uh... No need to worry. It's just a minor thing that happens now and then."
"So your men get beat up like this all the time?"
"Pardon? Oh, no, not at all. It's super rare. Maybe once or twice a year, if that. And those guys are newbies, a bit sloppy. Haha. If I'd sent our skilled ones, it'd be over already."
"Hmph. Not interested."
The black-robed man looked away indifferently.
"...Uh, right. How about some liquor then?"
"What kind you got?"
"Heh heh. We've got baijiu. Fresh stuff made right here in Taiyuan."
"Pass. You drink that crap yourself."
"..."
"Actually, sitting around like this is boring. You know a good inn?"
"Y-Yes, we do."
"Lead the way."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Ma Du-gwang led the black-robed man to Huseong Liquor House, their usual haunt near the Silver Push Sect.
He'd planned to drink on the first floor as always, but the black-robed man was already heading up to the fourth.
"Wha—hey?!"
Ma Du-gwang's pupils shook violently as he watched the man head to the VIP room, three times pricier than downstairs.
'Damn it.'
It burned thinking about the money slipping from his pouch, but he couldn't very well tell the man to stay downstairs. Biting his lip, Ma Du-gwang followed to the VIP room.
"Bring us Gold Pure Liquor."
The black-robed man ordered the inn's priciest drink the moment he sat. Ma Du-gwang's pupils quivered again.
Rage bubbled up to his throat, but he swallowed it and forced a grin.
"Heh heh. Excellent choice."
"Hmph. What do you know? You've probably never even tasted it."
"..."
If a subordinate had said that, Ma Du-gwang would've smashed their skull to pieces with his club.
His pride was his life, after all.
But not with this black-robed man. Pride be damned—he had to play nice.
"You'll love it. This place is the best in Taiyuan."
"I'll be the judge of that. Shut that noisy mouth of yours."
"A-Ah, yes. Got it."
He clamped his mouth shut and breathed quietly, lest he annoy the man and lose his head.
'His presence is no joke.'
Ma Du-gwang snuck glances, clicking his tongue in admiration.
This black-robed man was I-mok, patrol agent of the Crimson Flame Gang—a force that practically ruled the area.
The Silver Push Sect paid tribute to the Crimson Flame Gang, and today was tribute day.
'Rotten bastards. Messing up right when he's here. What a shitshow.'
Veins bulged on Ma Du-gwang's forehead as he thought of his embarrassing subordinates.
'Impervious to blades? Bullshit. What nonsense is that?'
This wasn't Henan with its Shaolin baldies.
Even those monks just talked big about blade immunity—they still got stabbed fine, from what he'd heard.
'No one in the world is truly immune to blades. They just didn't stab right. Human skin is...'
That was when it happened.
Boom!
A blast like a cannon shook Ma Du-gwang's eardrums.
Riiiing—
Tinnitus rang in his ears, making him stagger like he was dancing.
'F-Fuck. What the hell?!'
Did the imperial guards raid? Or did someone fire a cannon at an inn?!
Ma Du-gwang shook his head wildly to clear his mind.
"Gack!"
But before he could recover, something clamped his throat.
"Gurk!"
Like a thick rope noose, he couldn't breathe.
A... rope?!
Looking down, his eyes bulged at what gripped his neck.
'Wh-What? It's a hand!? Where the hell did this arm come from?!'
An arm had burst through the wall, grabbing his neck. Ma Du-gwang rasped in shock.
"Eek?!"
VIP rooms in inns were built extra sturdy—wood reinforced with stone to block sound.
And this wall had been punched through by a human fist, not even a cannonball?
Made no sense.
A voice laced with amusement reached Ma Du-gwang's stunned ears.
"Found you."
That chilling tone sent shivers down his spine. He'd weathered all sorts of storms, but anyone else might've pissed themselves.
Boom!
The wall exploded like gunpowder. Hundreds of shards pelted Ma Du-gwang, bruising his body.
Ughhh!
Pain screamed inside him, but he couldn't cry out.
"Guhk!"
His neck was gripped like a chicken's neck.
"You're Ma Du-gwang of the Silver Push Sect, right?"
Ma Du-gwang looked up at the voice.
A massive, muscle-bound giant loomed there, glaring like a butcher eyeing a fowl, his head nearly brushing the ceiling.
"..."
Ma Du-gwang's lower body trembled at the sight.
"Tch."
The giant dropped him to the floor with a disgusted look.
"One more time. You're Sect Leader Ma Du-gwang of Silver Push Sect?"
"Y-Yes. That's me."
The man's sheer size made Ma Du-gwang instinctively polite and deferential.
"M-May I ask who you are, sir? What great master would attack us like this...?"
"I'm Kang Moo-jin, third son of the Diamond Escort Agency's leader. We need to talk."
"Wh-Who?!"
Diamond Escort Agency's... third son?
Ma Du-gwang chewed on the words before shouting.
"Th-That brainless idiot who vanished ten years ago?!"
No native of Shanxi Province didn't know the guy.
The fool who'd strutted around after learning some martial arts, declared he'd roam the world, run off, and disappeared. He'd been infamous in Taiyuan back then.
Local boy Ma Du-gwang knew all about the moron.
'Th-That guy's this guy?!'
The kid who'd been about the size of a big local dog had grown into this hulking youth.
Unbelievable, even seeing it.
His build rivaled the sons of the Huangbo family—famous in the Five Great Families for Mount Tai-like physiques—not the Diamond Escort leader's.
"What the hell are you doing here...? No, why are you causing a scene, you damn bastard?!"
"Bastard? You wanna die."
Thwack!
Moo-jin kicked Ma Du-gwang like kids kicking a pig's bladder, advancing step by step.
"Your goons said they were gonna sell my eldest brother's daughter Soo-yeon to a brothel."
"Wh-What? That was just my men's doing."
Ma Du-gwang quickly shifted blame to his subordinates.
Survival in unorthodox circles demanded that kind of savvy.
"I never planned that. If I'd seen it, I'd have stopped them!"
"Oh yeah? Can't control your men, huh."
"Well, a little..."
"Then shut down the sect."
"Pardon?"
Ma Du-gwang gaped, and Moo-jin smirked, lifting one corner of his mouth.
"Silver Push Sect's done as of today."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
'...Practices external arts, huh?'
Crimson Flame Gang patrol agent I-mok eyed Moo-jin with a glint of interest.
'He's trained hard, I'll give him that. Tch. Foolish. External arts went out of style ages ago.'
In the jianghu, external arts were long passé.
No matter how tough, they crumbled before internal-strike techniques or poison.
'Guys like that big lug? One dose of poison inside, and they're toast.'
To I-mok, who trained both swordsmanship and poison arts, such brutes were perfect prey.
Muscles and bones might be tough, but the tissues beneath the skin were soft as anyone's.
'Time to step in.'
He didn't like the bat-like Silver Push Sect leader much, but he couldn't let a tribute-payer die.
I-mok set down his cup and slowly drew his sword, eyes gleaming like a beast as he waited for an opening.
"Silver Push Sect's done as of today."
The moment Moo-jin tensed his fist to demolish—
'I'll end it in one go.'
Whoosh!
I-mok dashed forward with footwork, slashing horizontally at Moo-jin's neck.
Swoosh!
A strike so fast the blade was a blur, green poison gleaming on its edge—an ultra-swift sword flash.
But.
Clang!
Moo-jin had raised his arm, catching the blade barehanded and halting it.
"...!!"
I-mok's pupils shook, his killing intent full-force.
'This bastard? Blocked it?'
"Gasp! H-How?!"
Ma Du-gwang on the floor couldn't hide his shock either.
That strike was beyond his level to even see, let alone block.
"Who are you?"
I-mok met Moo-jin's impassive gaze. He yanked to free his sword, flexing his forearm.
But the blade stuck fast, as if glued to Moo-jin's hand.
'What strength...!'
Judging he couldn't overpower it, I-mok released the sword and flung a sharp dart from his other hand at Moo-jin's face.
'It's over.'
He was sure Moo-jin couldn't block this.
'Try blocking this. It's a steel dart, you idiot.'
A venomous smile curled I-mok's lips—
Clang!
An odd sound rang in his ears.
"Clang? Not slice, but clang?"
I-mok's pupils trembled in panic.
'Huh?'
A massive shadow loomed over his eyes.