003. The Price of a Life
Thump, thump, thump!
“Excu—huh?”
Creeeaaak…
Whether because he knocked too hard or because it hadn’t been locked in the first place, the moment the man’s knuckles touched the door, the crooked, barely-hanging thing groaned open with an unsettling rasp.
And beyond that teetering facade, they found something unexpectedly tidy: the inside of the manor was surprisingly well-kept. Laid out across the wide wooden floor were two figures, sprawled out like corpses basking in the morning sun.
“Who are you?”
The boy, lounging comfortably in casual robes, lazily lifted his head and glanced at the two men who had entered the estate. Beside him, the man who had a wide bamboo hat pulled down over his face slowly sat up. He moved like a beast emerging from hibernation—a man built like no ordinary warrior.
Gulp.
Overwhelmed by the strange atmosphere that hung in the air, one of the men in yellow martial robes involuntarily swallowed dryly before stepping forward.
“Is this… the manor of the House of Eon?”
“Yeah.”
The boy answered instead of the large man, and the other visitor quickly offered a respectful fist salute.
“Ah, young master… We’re from the Martial Alliance. If we may, we’d like to speak with the head of the house—”
“That’s me.”
“Pardon?”
“That’s Gunryeom, my right-hand man. I’m the head of the House of Eon.”
“O-oh…”
With the boy’s words, the two men recalled the thick registry they’d briefly scanned earlier: that the last bloodline of the Eon clan was indeed a child. The Alliance envoys, now realizing their mistake, exchanged reluctant glances and awkwardly bowed in greeting.
“…There were so many names on the list, I must have been confused. My sincerest apologies.”
“Please forgive us, Clan Leader.”
Gunryeom, still seated with his hat shading his expression, gave off a quiet but palpable sense of menace. But Seojeong waved their apologies away with little concern.
“Whatever. What are you here for?”
“…The Alliance has decided to formally recognize and reward those who contributed to the conclusion of the Great War between Righteous and Demonic Factions. We came to deliver the reward for the merits recorded under the name of Clan Leader Eon Samun.”
At the envoy’s words, Seojeong let out a soft snort of amusement.
“Wow, how generous. So? How much is it?”
“Well… compared to others listed, it’s an exceptional reward. If the claimant is alive, they are granted three gold ingots. If deceased, the direct heir receives about a third of that—so, one ingot.”
One gold ingot. Enough to fully restore the decaying manor and live comfortably for years.
But Seojeong, having already sensed the Alliance’s intent to minimize compensation, showed no change in expression and nodded lightly.
“Not bad. Leave it here.”
“Ah, about that… We didn’t bring it with us. Since the two of us are delivering notifications to all contributors in Hebei, the Martial Alliance will handle the actual delivery separately.”
“Fair. Two guys lugging around a sack of gold would be asking for trouble.”
The faint scorn in Seojeong’s tone didn’t escape the envoys, and their brows twitched subtly. But when they met Gunryeom’s cold stare, they quickly looked away and coughed to cover their discomfort.
Seojeong continued calmly.
“When do I have to be there?”
“Pardon? Ah… by the seventh day of the seventh month.”
“You should’ve said earlier. That’s barely two weeks from now.”
“…Our apologies. We followed a route to notify everyone in order…”
“Alright. You can go now.”
“Er… just one last thing…”
After signing a scroll to confirm receipt of the notice and accepting a red envelope containing the invitation, Seojeong flopped back onto the wooden floor. Gunryeom followed suit, lying down and pulling his hat over his face again.
A blatant dismissal.
“……”
“……”
The envoys hesitated, looking at one another, then, careful not to offend the silent, dangerous aura of Gunryeom, they turned and quietly left the manor.
“…That was fun.”
“You really going?”
“Of course.”
“All to get a single gold ingot? You’ll have to watch those smug bastards from the Righteous Factions strut around like peacocks. None of them ever lifted a finger for us after the old clan head died. Besides, we’ve got more than enough money from those promissory notes I grabbed back at Mount Song.”
To Gunryeom’s irritation, Seojeong turned to him with a brief laugh.
“What, don’t tell me you’re just bitter because they’re judging you for your background.”
“Pft! Can’t say you’re wrong.”
“Anyway, I’m not going for the gold.”
“Then why?”
Lying back with his arms behind his head, Seojeong looked up at the pale blue sky and spoke quietly.
“They said it was my father’s life’s worth.”
“…Right.”
“Let’s go see what kind of great men have gathered to hand out that price.”
And with that, their next destination was decided.
The next morning, at first light, Seojeong and Gunryeom quietly set out, leaving the decrepit manor behind.
They didn’t have much to pack.
Just the usual black chest of mortuary tools slung on Gunryeom’s back, and the little bell in Seojeong’s hand.
No weapons.
“Idiots. They expect us to cross an entire province in fifteen days?”
From dawn till the sun climbed high in the sky, Gunryeom grumbled as they walked side by side along the road.
“No choice. They probably started with the Peng clan up north, then circled around and only reached Jinju last.”
Indeed, with the Peng family based in Beijing, they must’ve followed a clockwise route through Hebei. Their home, tucked away in Jinju, had to be last.
To reach Xi’an, the Martial Alliance’s headquarters, from their location, they’d have to cross Shanxi Province to reach Shaanxi.
Fifteen days was just enough—if they didn’t stop and marched all day without rest.
“I thought this would be a bit of a vacation.”
“We’re still enjoying the scenery, aren’t we? Besides, if we really wanted to rush, it wouldn’t take long.”
Seojeong gently chided his grumbling companion.
“Still, feels like we’re being chased.”
“Then we’ll take it slow on the way back.”
That made Gunryeom smile.
“Sounds good.”
“And there’s no rush, anyway.”
“Right. The place’ll be full of righteous old foxes and arrogant brats riding on their sects’ coattails.”
Just imagining it made Gunryeom scowl. Seojeong chuckled at the thought.
“A circus, really. Everyone desperate to boast about their sect’s contributions.”
“Hah! That we agree on. Neither of us likes that kind of posturing.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Seojeong blinked innocently. Gunryeom clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Still can’t win an argument with you.”
“Anyway, we’ll reach Shijiazhuang before nightfall. We can rest there and see if there’s any useful info on the way. Who knows, maybe we’ll pick up something interesting.”
“Hm, it’s about time those demonic bastards who’ve been hiding since the war started to crawl back out.”
Seojeong smiled knowingly and nodded.
By sunset, they arrived in Shijiazhuang as planned and made their way to a shabby inn called Yumong, tucked away from the bustling main streets.
The interior was just as worn-down as the outside. Six empty tables. One of them was occupied by a drowsy-looking server, who startled awake when the two entered.
“We’d like a quick bite and a room for the night.”
“Ah! Welcome, honored guests! Right this way…”
The flustered server jumped up and polished a table with the rag tucked into his belt.
“All the rooms upstairs are empty, so take whichever you like. What would you like to eat?”
“Just bring us some dumplings.”
“Yes, sir!”
As he scurried off to the kitchen, Gunryeom surveyed the place with a sour look.
“We could’ve gone somewhere better. Why be cheap now?”
“That’s for the return trip. For now, we gather intel.”
“Wouldn’t we hear more at a busy place?”
“You’d think so. But places like this? The servers hear everything.”
Thud, thud.
Their chat was cut short as the server returned with a plate of dumplings, looking gloomy.
“…I heard everything.”
He set the plate down with a sigh.
“This place didn’t always struggle, but lately, with so many new taverns popping up around town… Like you said, we barely get any customers.”
Seojeong handed him five copper coins.
“Two for the food. The rest, for information.”
The server’s face lit up.
“What would you like to know?”
“Any lunatics around here lately?”
“Lunatics…”
He glanced toward the kitchen, then leaned in and whispered.
“Our cook is a madman, to be honest. His dumplings are good, but everything else is garbage. Drinks meant for guests? He drinks them himself. Honestly, the real reason this place is failing—”
“No, not that kind of crazy. We mean real lunatics. Robbers, murderers.”
Gunryeom’s frigid glare cut the server short, and he shrank back, shaking his head.
“No one causing real trouble in Shijiazhuang. There’s a martial hall here—Wuyingguan—run by a Peng clan warrior. Keeps the peace.”
“That so? Boring.”
Seojeong sighed dramatically. The server blinked in confusion.
Gunryeom stretched out a hand.
“Take one coin. Return the rest.”
“…What?”
The server blinked, confused.
“You didn’t earn it. So pay it back.”
“A-ah! Wait! I just remembered something!”
Sweating bullets, the server desperately wracked his brain—then suddenly lit up.
“Last month, some merchants who rented this whole inn told me about a place. Not here in Shijiazhuang, but on the road to Shanxi, near Mount Uam. Bandits have taken over!”
“Mount Uam?”
Seojeong raised an eyebrow. The server nodded vigorously.
“Yes! It’s a shortcut between Hebei and Shanxi, faster than the main road. But some rogue martial artist teamed up with the bandits, and now it’s off-limits. His nickname was, um…”
Clap!
Striking his palm with his fist, he remembered.
“‘Death-cleaving Blade!’ Definitely called him Talmyeongdo!”
Seojeong turned to Gunryeom.
“Well?”
Gunryeom nodded.
“Yeah. I’ve heard the name a few times.”
“If it reached your ears, he’s got to be decent.”
“Maybe. At least he’ll be better than the trash we’ve seen so far.”
Satisfied, Seojeong smiled at the server.
“Looks like you earned your coins after all.”
“Yesss!”
The server clenched his fist and let out a triumphant cheer.
