Dang Mujin moved toward the direction where he heard the cooing of the mountain dove, a sound that signaled the presence of Hong Geolge.
By the time he arrived, Gwiui was already there. Hong Geolge and Gwiui were peering through a small gap in a tiny hut, no more than three meters long, trying to catch a glimpse of what was inside.
Dang Mujin wanted to look inside too, but there was no suitable gap for him. Instead, he pressed his ear against the wall to eavesdrop on the conversation within.
“Thinking of taking over Namryeonbu and running the show yourself, are you?”
“No, I…”
Smack—thud.
The sound of a slap followed by someone hitting the floor echoed out.
The voice of the interrogator was unfamiliar, but the one being beaten was all too familiar. It was the thin, raspy voice of the merchant who had once welcomed Dang Mujin and his companions.
“Don’t lie to me. If it wasn’t you, who else would bring people to take down Namryeonbu? I’ve heard all about how the men you brought cut off Namryeonbu’s head.”
“It’s a misunderstanding. I did bring them, but I had no idea what they were planning.”
“Oh, so it was just a coincidence that the people you brought happened to know martial arts and coincidentally went after Namryeonbu? Do you take me for a fool?”
Another dull thud followed, and the sound of someone rolling on the floor was heard again.
Hong Geolge whispered, “Looks like they think the merchant brought us here on purpose.”
“Shh. Keep quiet. I’m listening too.”
The three of them focused back on the conversation.
“You should’ve been content with the scraps you got from selling Oseoksan. We knew you were scheming, but we still treated you with respect. Where else would you find people as decent as us from the Black Wolf Clan? Others would’ve taken your head before even starting the job.”
“Please believe me. It’s the truth…”
The merchant was desperately trying to prove his innocence, knowing that failing to do so would mean death. But the interrogator from the Black Path showed no signs of believing him. The circumstances were too suspicious to take his word for it.
“Keep talking. Soon, our men will bring those guys in, and we’ll see if your stories match.”
Thud, thud. The sound of someone being kicked and groaning in pain followed.
This time, Gwiui whispered, “Seems like the merchant planned for the Black Path to settle on this mountain.”
“Why would he do that? It’s his livelihood at stake.”
“Maybe he got tired of panning for gold and iron scraps in the freezing winter river. It’s hard work for little pay.”
Just then, the door to the hut burst open.
The Black Path member interrogating the merchant was startled to see the three of them standing by the door.
“You, what—!”
Before he could finish, Gwiui thrust his sword, piercing the man’s throat.
Leaving the Black Path member to choke on his own blood, the three entered the hut.
Inside, the merchant lay on the floor, his lips split and his face swollen. He struggled to focus his eyes on them, a clear expression of anger on his face. But he couldn’t voice his fury, having seen the dead Black Path member outside and the blood on Dang Mujin and Gwiui’s swords.
Gwiui crouched in front of the merchant and spoke, “You’ve known these guys for a while, it seems. Let me ask you a few things. How many people around here know how to make Oseoksan?”
The merchant hesitated, weighing his options between siding with the Black Path or Dang Mujin’s group.
Gwiui drove his sword into the ground, the blade sinking into the stone floor as if it were soft earth.
Though the merchant knew nothing of martial arts, he could tell Gwiui was no ordinary warrior.
Finally, the merchant spoke, “As far as I know, only Namryeonbu from the Namga family knows how to make Oseoksan.”
“Can I trust that? Sounds like you’re just using a dead man’s name.”
“It’s true. The Namga family wasn’t originally part of the Black Wolf Clan. They brought Namryeonbu in because they didn’t know how to make Oseoksan. Many know the ingredients, but only Namryeonbu knows how to make it and enhance its effects.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Where do they store the ingredients?”
“I heard they move them to the Namga estate as they gather them. If they store them on the mountain, the moisture ruins the potency.”
“Hmm.”
If the merchant’s story was true, there wouldn’t be much stockpiled at the Namga estate. Oseoksan doesn’t take long to make if you know how, so there’s no reason to keep the ingredients for long.
“Looks like we’re done here.”
“Just in case, let’s make sure they can’t use the cinnabar.”
The ingredients for Oseoksan vary slightly depending on the maker, but the most crucial component is cinnabar. Without it, Oseoksan can’t induce lethargy or hallucinations.
“Thanks for your cooperation.”
Gwiui stood and drove his sword into the merchant’s heart.
“Ugh…”
Though the merchant hadn’t made Oseoksan himself, he was the root of all the trouble. Gwiui had no reason to let him live.
The three left the hut.
The dark clouds in the sky had mostly cleared.
The eastern sky was turning a pale blue, and the scent of blood mingled with the fresh smell of the mountain. Even those with poor senses could tell something had happened.
“The sun’s almost up. If we’re going to deal with the cinnabar, we should hurry… Why didn’t you ask where they mine it?”
“I saw it on the way up. We can stop by on our way down.”
The three began their descent, moving quietly. Before long, a commotion erupted behind them. The Black Wolf Clan had realized something was amiss.
Dang Mujin and his companions used their light-footed techniques to move swiftly. As they descended, Hong Geolge pulled a flat, fist-sized ore from his pocket and handed it to Dang Mujin.
“Is this worth anything?”
Dang Mujin took the ore.
It felt like metal, but the surface was rough and covered in protrusions, like a high-purity metal surrounded by impurities.
Dang Mujin held the ore up to the rising sun, examining it closely.
The color of the untainted parts was more ashen than white or gray, and it was at least thirty percent heavier than ordinary metal.
It was his first time seeing it in person, but Dang Mujin knew what it was.
“Where did you find this?”
“Found it while rummaging through the hut. What is it?”
“It’s meteoric iron.”
“Meteoric iron is valuable, right?”
“Of course, it’s valuable. It’s hard to work with, so they probably just stored it. The amount is a bit awkward, though.”
There was barely enough meteoric iron to make a small dagger.
Depending on its purity, the usable amount might be even less.
The easiest way to use meteoric iron is to mix it with regular iron to make a high-quality sword. While meteoric iron varies, it’s often superior to ordinary iron refined a hundred times.
However, few actually mix meteoric iron with regular iron. It’s too precious to dilute with common metal.
The Black Wolf Clan likely thought the same.
“I’ll find a use for it someday.”
Dang Mujin tucked the meteoric iron into his pocket.
Hong Geolge didn’t find this strange. He had an appetite but little greed for material things, especially if he couldn’t use them himself.
The group gathered a bundle of branches and placed them in the cave where the cinnabar was mined, dousing them with poison.
Dang Mujin’s poison was minimal and weak, but Gwiui’s was abundant and potent, having absorbed it over many years.
Even without direct contact, Dang Mujin had to flee the cave, unable to withstand the poison.
Finally, Gwiui and Dang Mujin blocked the entrance with large rocks.
To clear the poison, one would have to remove the branches, but no ordinary person could withstand the poison long enough to do so.
Unless a significant amount of time passed, no one would be able to mine cinnabar from this cave.
“Let’s go.”
The three walked for about an hour before finding a place to rest.
The sun was high in the sky. Normally, it would be time to move diligently.
But they were exhausted, having stayed up all night without sleep.
They took turns resting. Hong Geolge stood watch first, followed by Dang Mujin. Finally, Dang Mujin woke Gwiui to take over the watch.
While in a deep sleep, Gwiui nudged Dang Mujin and Hong Geolge awake.
Dang Mujin spoke in a groggy voice, “Is someone coming?”
“Yes. They’re coming. And they’re not amateurs like the ones we saw earlier.”
The seriousness in Gwiui’s voice quickly dispelled any lingering drowsiness.
It had been quite some time since Dang Mujin had been traveling with the enigmatic figure, but this was the first time he had seen him acknowledge an opponent.
Unlike the previous night, the mysterious figure didn’t bother hiding behind a tree. He had judged that a surprise attack wouldn’t work on this adversary.
Soon, three men appeared, each wielding a large blade typically used by butchers to slaughter animals.
All three were clad in fur-lined leather garments, their imposing physiques making it clear they were from the notorious Green Forest Bandits. Among them, the man standing in the center was particularly massive, with limbs so hairy they seemed more beast-like than human.
The largest of the bandits stepped forward and spoke.
“Well, well, I thought it was some fool who didn’t value his life causing a ruckus, but it’s a familiar face. The Phantom. What were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that?”
“Does a doctor need a reason to cure an illness?”
“An illness, you say?”
“When the blood is clogged with impurities and the skin starts to rot, what else would you call it?”
The conversation seemed ordinary at first glance. However, both Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae were on high alert.
Most people who recognized the Phantom reacted the same way: they ran for their lives the moment they saw his face. Such was the reputation of a true master.
Yet, these bandits didn’t back down even after recognizing him.
“By the way, I didn’t expect the Great Heavy Blade, Akhui, to be mingling with those peddling Osuksan knock-offs. How did you fall so low?”
“I’m not exactly mingling. They wanted to take over the mountain, and to do that around here, they needed to get past me.”
“Then get lost. I need to catch some more sleep before I hit the road.”
The Phantom let his sword hang loosely, showing no hostility.
But Akhui raised his massive blade.
“That’s not going to happen. I’ve already taken protection money from them.”
“Protection money?”
“Yeah. You need a convincing reason to collect money, don’t you? It’s rare to actually have to draw weapons.”
The Phantom tilted his head slightly and raised his sword again.
“If you lose your head trying to earn that money, you’ll regret it more. Don’t you think?”
“Even if it’s risky, there’s no choice. In this business, your reputation sets the price. If I hang your famous head on display, I might be able to charge more for the territory.”
The Phantom chuckled softly.
“Old mountain beasts often have elixirs inside them. Maybe I should see if you have one in your belly.”
Akhui laughed fiercely and charged at the Phantom with surprising agility for his size.
The Phantom’s sword and Akhui’s massive blade clashed at a speed almost too fast to follow, sending a faint shockwave through the air.
It was a life-and-death duel between masters, the likes of which Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae had never witnessed before.
But they had no time to watch, as the two other bandits, clearly more skilled than them, charged in their direction.