HDCLSSRS Ch 119

Chapter 119 The Gambling Den (5)

 

“Ugh… my head…”

Seong Mujai groaned curses as he rubbed the back of his skull, where he had been struck by the tavern master. From hiding, Bang Gyeom finally appeared and helped pull him back to his feet.

The Ghostslayers (Gwisaldae) spotted Mujai and their eyes gleamed—they surged forward together.

“Eek!”

Mujai shrieked, staggering backward in terror—only to crash against a wall. The very same wall where Muyeon had been thrown.

Baek Ryeoil’s sword slashed suddenly across the floor at the Ghostslayers’ feet, gouging the wood and forcing them back.

“Kang Ung!”

“Yes, Master!”

During that short pause, Kang Ung dashed forward and drew his blade. Back to the wall, the two of them shielded Muyeon’s group from both sides.

“Urk…”

Ung’s breath grated between his teeth. Still young, so green, he could barely deflect the rain of blades crashing down upon him. Ryeoil fought like more than one man, but fighting ten men at once with only two was untenable.

As their line threatened to crumble, Ryeoil felled one Ghostslayer, snatching up his sword and flinging it toward Bang Gyeom.

“Fight!”

Bang Gyeom caught it one-handed from the air and entered the fray.

“The tavern master has taken the orb. We must chase him!”

Meanwhile, Muyeon dragged Mujai upright again—his brother sagging back down, hand clawing his chest, eyes widening pale. Only now did he realize—the orb was gone.

Teeth clenched, fear barely driven down, Mujai forced his trembling legs to stand.

“I’ll hold them here! Go!”

Ryeoil bellowed.

At that same moment, the scarred captain—Myeong-Gwi—moved.

Kwaang!

Steel met mid-air, sparking conflagration as Ryeoil and the Ghostslayer Captain crashed. Their blades rang a violent note across the hall.

Both were flung back by the impact.

Neither rushed. Faces locked hard, they had gauged one another in that lone exchange—each realizing the other was no simple foe. Neither blinked as they squared off again.

During this stalemate, Muyeon hauled Mujai up the stairs in hot pursuit of the tavern master.

Looking back one last time, Muyeon saw Ryeoil barring the way, keeping Myeong-Gwi and the Ghostslayers from advance.

He sprinted along the balcony rails. Just then—a Ghostslayer scaled the wall and swooped at them from above.

“Uwaah!”

Mujai screamed at the sight, limbs flailing in panic, not even raising a guard, his lifetime of training obliterated by terror.

“Brother!”

“Young Lord!”

Then—a flash. Someone’s blade tore the attacker apart midair.

“Graaagh!”

The Ghostslayer burst into blood, smacking the floor lifeless.

Gentle as a feather, Je Cheondeuk landed upon the rail. He had already evacuated all the civilians.

“Hmph.”

With one flick he shed the blood from his sword, then leapt into the melee.

Sliding into formation, he shoved Ung back behind him and filled the line himself.

With Je Cheondeuk in place the formation steadied, and slowly—the Ghostslayers began to cede ground.

Then those three will hold. I need not worry.

“Brother, focus! What are you doing? Do you care nothing for losing the orb?”

Muyeon snarled at Mujai, who sat quaking on the floor. Just moments ago his mistake had been unforgivable—failing even to roll away when death struck. That was no different than surrender.

He could have slapped him, had time allowed. But they had business to do.

“Will you keep this up? Then we’ll leave you here. Up! Now!”

“…Alright, I’m awake now! I get it, I get it! Let’s go smash that bastard tavern master’s face!”

Mujai hauled himself upright, bracing on a dead Ghostslayer’s sword like a walking stick.

With Je Cheondeuk joining, now was the chance.

“Young Lord, it’s dangerous!” Bang Gyeom called from below.

“Shut it! You hold the line down here!”

Muyeon frowned briefly at Mujai’s deadly-serious voice, but sounds from deeper down the corridor seized his attention.

“What are you doing?! Open this door!”

Turning a corner, they saw the tavern master at the iron gate, howling at his guards.

“It’s locked from the outside! But who are these cult men?! Did you know of them, Master!?”

The hired guards, who had only worked for coin, now found themselves face-to-face with death. They shouted angrily.

“Our lives are precious too! We will not die for this!”

“Damn cowards! You’ll die anyway if you abandon your post!”

But they spat and stormed off. Even facing Muyeon and Mujai, they did nothing, slipping past to flee for their lives.

“You see? You should have earned their faith. Hatching schemes and hiding truths from your own men—they’ll always betray you.”

As Muyeon mocked closer, the tavern master could only curse and bolt away.

“You bastard! Stop right there!”

Mujai roared, chasing him down.

Their pursuit was brief. The tavern master, glancing about, darted into a side room—the very Cheongdang (refined hall) they had once stayed in.

The brothers burst in just as he ripped open the wrappings, revealing the orb.

“…What is this?”

He stared at the bead gleaming with strange light.

“Don’t touch that with your filthy hands!” Mujai’s face twisted with fury.

The tavern master blasted him back with a wave of inner strength. Mujai slammed into the ground, rolling.

“Seong Mujai—you cur! I fed you and kept you, and this is my reward? Do you know how much suffering you have brought me? How much fortune I’ve lost? My life’s work, ruined because of you!”

“Khk…”

Mujai staggered upright, his hair disheveled, eyes burning.

“Aaaaah!”

He swung wildly.

The tavern master evaded contemptuously, kicked him sprawling, disarming him in the process.

“They want this, do they? Then it must be precious. And what makes it precious is what I shall claim. Damn cult scum—thinking to make sport of me?”

“Brother! What are you doing!”

Muyeon called to him. Mujai crawled, seized his blade with a trembling hand. But no strength came. His posture broke, his complexion pale green, his sword tip shaking like a leaf.

“…Brother, don’t tell me…”

Muyeon froze.

All along he had wondered. The way Mujai had collapsed after merely days without food, his fumbling parries, his trembling hands. And Bang Gyeom’s excessive protection.

Finally the truth clicked.

“…Brother. Have you… lost your dantian⁽¹⁾?”

Mujai did not answer. Sweat ran like rain as he glared at the tavern master, refusing even to look at Muyeon.

Muyeon closed his eyes tight.

“I see.”

So it was. Mujai had not “done nothing” when fleeing from the Ghostslayers before—he had spent everything. Pouring every last ounce of inner power to save his men and himself, until he shredded even the core of his martial cultivation.

“I don’t need it! Even with a ruined dantian I can finish this dog!”

“Hah! Insolent fool. Come then! I’ll send you to meet your ancestors.”

Muyeon sighed briefly and reached into his sleeve. Out he pulled a long, narrow ribbon, binding down his flowing sleeves tight.

“…What are you doing, Muyeon?”

“Joining forces, elder brother.”

With the ribbon clenched between his teeth, he tied his hair high, drawing clean a sword that had been discarded in the chaos.

“I don’t need your help! What can you do! Watch from behind if you wish to live!”

“Brother, you and I… we’re in the same state.”

Muyeon gave a bitter smile. One without a dantian, one who possessed one but could not wield his inner power—both defective.

“Perhaps you don’t know… but I’ve been recovering these days. I might even outstrip you now.”

He tested the weight of the sword. Its balance was atrocious, gaudy in decoration—clearly a plaything for some wealthy braggart.

The tavern master had some martial training but not mastery. Together, they just might triumph.

“…Do as you like, then.”

“Yes. I shall.”

Footnotes:

1. Dantian (단전 / 丹田) – The “cinnabar field,” the energy core in lower abdomen in Chinese/Korean martial philosophy, where inner energy (qi) is cultivated. Destruction of the dantian renders a warrior incapable of proper cultivation or martial use of qi.

2. Cheongdang (청당 / 靑堂) – A gambling hall’s elite chamber for wealthy patrons, previously occupied by the brothers.