Execution of the Villains (3)
It took only five days to construct five buildings within a single fenced area. At the center stood a modest log cabin, about thirty pyeong in size, surrounded by four other structures.
Geom Woo-bin stepped out of the central house and took a deep breath of the crisp dawn air. The scent of the river flowing beyond the reed fields pleasantly tickled his nose.
From the northern house, Do Pyeong-su yawned and opened the door.
“Elder Martial Brother, why are you up so early? You should’ve slept more.”
“Today’s my first day at work. Did you forget?”
“Tch, you don’t have to do such trivial work.”
“I’d feel bad if I couldn’t sell the liquor our martial siblings made. Of course, I need to learn the trade. I’ll be back!”
As Geom Woo-bin energetically stepped out, Do Pyeong-su quickly followed. Few in the martial world knew they had settled on the outskirts of Hangzhou, but they always had to be prepared for the unexpected.
‘Elder Martial Brother needs to grow stronger quickly.’
True to his martial siblings’ wishes, Geom Woo-bin never neglected his training whenever he had time.
While practicing the footwork Yeon Geum-hong had taught him, his steps were slow and unsteady, resembling a drunkard’s wobbling gait.
“Combining the Ten Steps Hundred Shadows footwork with the Drunken Fist technique…”
Geom Woo-bin stretched his arm with full force but suddenly crumpled to the ground, clutching his hand.
Too absorbed in his training, he hadn’t noticed the large rock on the roadside and punched it.
“Ughhh…”
After nursing the pain for a while, he hurried back on his way.
As Geom Woo-bin winced in pain, Do Pyeong-su felt a phantom ache in his own fist, as if it had been struck. It was the first time he had ever thought, ‘I’d rather it hurt me instead.’
Passing the rock Geom Woo-bin had hit, Do Pyeong-su suddenly backtracked and shattered it with a single strike—just in case his elder brother accidentally hit it again.
“It might trip someone too.”
After obliterating even the rock’s remnants, he quietly followed Geom Woo-bin again.
It took Geom Woo-bin twice as long as usual to reach the inn, as he had been practicing martial arts along the way.
The “World’s Greatest Inn,” located on the outskirts of the city, was a shabby place with no discernible reason for its grandiose name.
With twelve greasy tables and a few guest rooms in the back, it was just one of many ordinary inns common in the Central Plains.
“Good morning!”
Geom Woo-bin greeted loudly as he entered. The owner, Seo Pung-sik, who had been yawning in the kitchen, jumped in surprise.
“Why are you here so early?”
“If I’m going to learn, I should start early! I’ll begin with cleaning!”
Watching Geom Woo-bin sweep the floor and wipe the tables, Seo Pung-sik nodded with satisfaction.
Though it was his first day, it was immediately clear that Geom Woo-bin was an excellent worker. Initially, Seo Pung-sik had hesitated to hire someone so young.
—You don’t have to pay me much! Just let me work!
Geom Woo-bin’s desperate expression and his explanation—”I have four martial siblings to feed”—had ultimately convinced him.
The World’s Greatest Inn catered to budget travelers passing through Hangzhou, offering little beyond affordability.
Thanks to the modest number of guests, Geom Woo-bin’s days weren’t too busy, allowing him to learn the inn’s operations in his spare time.
Understanding how the inn worked was crucial for figuring out how to sell the liquor his martial siblings brewed.
Working at a bustling inn or tavern in downtown Hangzhou would’ve been ideal, but an eight-year-old had no chance of getting hired there.
The World’s Greatest Inn was the only place that accepted him after twelve rejections.
After a month as an apprentice, he became proficient in his duties and steadily built his knowledge of liquor.
“Grain wine pairs better with meat than fruit wine. How about Samgokju instead of Maehongju?”
“Is the Samgokju here any good?”
“It’s from a new supplier—absolutely delicious.”
“How does a kid know about liquor?”
Despite their skepticism, the two middle-aged men ordered the Samgokju he recommended.
“Welcome, Great Master Jang!”
When Jang Deok-pal, carrying a bundle as large as himself, entered the inn, he was startled.
“You remember me?”
“Twelve days ago, you had lunch here before heading out with soju.”
“Hahaha! Sharp memory! Just one meal twelve days ago, and you recall.”
“Shall I get you the same—noodles and dumplings?”
“No. Today, I’ll splurge a little.”
Anyone would feel pleased to be remembered after just one visit.
“How about Eohyang Yooksa? The pork and wood ear mushrooms we got this time are exceptionally fresh and tasty.”
“Oh? Then… what should I drink with it?”
“Jukyeopcheong pairs perfectly.”
“Good. Bring me a geun of Jukyeopcheong too.”
Geom Woo-bin called out to the kitchen, “Eohyang Yooksa and one geun of Jukyeopcheong!”
Seo Pung-sik couldn’t stop smiling as he watched Geom Woo-bin.
He had expected nothing more than basic chores, but the boy was quick, meticulous, and had an uncanny ability to please customers.
The inn’s revenue had increased by thirty percent since Geom Woo-bin joined—no mere coincidence.
‘I wish he’d stay longer.’
But from the start, Geom Woo-bin had insisted he could only work for three months.
‘Maybe if I pay him more, he’ll change his mind.’
Originally, his monthly wage was twenty coins, but Seo Pung-sik added five more.
By late afternoon, when customers dwindled, Geom Woo-bin finished cleaning and prepared to leave.
“Your pay for this month.”
“Huh? There’s five extra coins?”
“Next month, I’ll give you even more. So, how about it? Instead of three months, why not stay indefinitely? If you do well, I’ll even teach you cooking.”
“I’m truly grateful, but I can only work for three months due to personal circumstances.”
Most would at least consider the offer out of courtesy, but Geom Woo-bin’s refusal was firm.
“Tsk. Fine.”
“Thank you! See you tomorrow!”
Leaving the inn, Geom Woo-bin hurried into downtown Hangzhou to buy gifts for his martial siblings with his first paycheck.
Due to yesterday’s rain, puddles littered the streets. Passing horses and carriages splashed muddy water, forcing him to tread carefully.
“You damn brat! Watch where you’re splashing mud!”
A shout was followed by a child’s cry of pain.
On the crowded roadside, a boy around six or seven lay sprawled on the ground, facing four older boys of about thirteen or fourteen.
Scattered around the ragged child were scraps of begged food.
Crunch!
The largest of the four stomped on the boy’s wooden begging bowl, shattering it.
“How are you going to pay for dirtying our Hangzhou Martial Arts Academy uniforms?”
The four wore black uniforms emblazoned with taiji symbols on their chests and backs. A small splash of mud on the largest boy’s pant leg seemed to be the young beggar’s fault.
“You’re going too far!”
The boy clutched his aching chest but suddenly stood up.
“Even if you won’t give alms, breaking my bowl is too much!”
His defiance only invited more violence.
A kick to his ribs sent him doubling over before another strike to the face sent him tumbling, blood gushing from his nose.
Bystanders either ignored the scene or watched indifferently—except for one.
“Uncle, stop the carriage.”
At Namgung Hye-yeon’s request, Jang So-myeong ordered the coachman to halt.
“What’s wrong?”
She stared intently through the window at the beggar boy being beaten. Though she could guess what had happened, even an eleven-year-old like her found the older boys’ behavior despicable.
Using strength to bully the weak was something Namgung Hye-yeon despised most.
“I think I should—”
Just as she reached for the carriage door, someone else stepped forward.
“This is going too far!”
It wasn’t an adult but another child—barely eight or nine—who stood between the bullies and the beggar.
“Who the hell are you?”
“If your clothes got muddy, just wash them. Is that a reason to hit someone?”
“Wash them? You paying for the laundry?”
The boy held out a single coin.
“This should be enough, right?”
The older boy scoffed.
“You think we’re beggars? You’re asking for a beating too—”
“Take the money and leave, or just disappear.”
The boy’s tone shifted—deeper, firmer, carrying an unspoken threat that made the older boy hesitate.
Realizing he had been silenced, the older boy roared,
“Or what?!”
“Then you’ll have to fight me.”
The bullies laughed incredulously.
They were martial arts students, while their opponent was just a scrawny kid. Yet, the boy showed no fear.
As the older boy raised his fist, the boy added,
“If you fight me, you’ll earn my grudge—and I never forget grudges.”
The fist froze mid-air.
It was the first time the fourteen-year-old had heard such a threat. Sure, he and his friends had joked about killing each other countless times, but those were just empty words.
This boy’s “grudge” felt different—like an icicle piercing his chest.
His fist dropped.
“What kind of freak is this? Pah!”
Unable to retaliate, the older boy spat into a puddle—not even at the boy—before leaving with his friends, muttering about avoiding filth.
Namgung Hye-yeon watched with fascination.
“He intimidated those hotheads with sheer presence. Impressive.”
As she murmured, she asked Jang So-myeong,
“Do you know who that boy is?”
Her uncle shrugged.
“Hard to say. I know many in Hangzhou, but not every child.”
“Could you find out?”
“Judging by his clothes, he’s not from any notable family.”
The boy’s cheap attire clearly marked him as common. But her interest had nothing to do with background.
“Why won’t you take it?”
While she spoke with her uncle, the boy and the beggar were arguing over the single coin.
“I hate pity.”
The beggar refused the coin the boy had tried to give him—the same one meant for the bullies.
“A beggar who hates pity? Then don’t beg.”
“What?”
“Begging means living off others’ sympathy. If you hate pity, quit being a beggar.”
The boy stared silently before pocketing the coin.
“Picky about who pities you? You don’t deserve to beg. If fakes like you take food meant for real beggars, you’re hurting them. Quit now.”
Namgung Hye-yeon watched, intrigued, as the boy walked away after his harsh words.
“I’m more and more curious about him.”
Meanwhile, Geom Woo-bin felt a twinge of regret. He hadn’t needed to be so harsh.
‘I should just focus on myself.’
After buying gifts for his martial siblings in the city, he returned home.
“Elder Martial Brother, you’re back late today.”
Seo Seok-san was the first to greet him, followed by the other three.
“Today was my first payday. I bought gifts for all of you.”
“Gifts? What kind?”
To Yeon Geum-hong, who asked excitedly, he handed a red tasseled ornament.
“It’s nothing expensive, but I thought it’d suit you.”
Yeon Geum-hong stared at it in her hands—her first-ever gift. The same was true for the others.
Jang Man-dok received a hair ribbon, Seo Seok-san got pipa strings, and even Do Pyeong-su—though baffled—accepted a copy of Thousand Character Classic.
“Elder Martial Brother, why give me a book…?”
