Jang Ja-su pulled his hat lower, obscuring his face even more.
“You must have mistaken me for someone else.”
As if that were possible.
Even if we were to stretch the imagination and assume a bodyguard with minimal martial arts skills could fend off Tang Mu-jin’s hand, there was no way a mere porter like Jang Ja-su could do the same.
‘So that’s how you want to play it.’
Tang Mu-jin glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then reached out more insistently.
Jang Ja-su, in turn, became more blatant in his use of martial techniques, blocking Tang Mu-jin’s hand and even subtly employing a joint-lock technique at the end.
Had Jang Ja-su not stopped at the right moment, Tang Mu-jin’s wrist might have been twisted.
”…”
A brief silence ensued.
Tang Mu-jin was already certain of Jang Ja-su’s true identity, and given that they would be traveling together for a while, there was no point in pretending otherwise.
With a sigh, Jang Ja-su lowered the hand that had been covering his face. As expected, it was Namgung Myung.
In truth, Tang Mu-jin didn’t have the best feelings toward Namgung Myung.
Although Namgung Myung had apologized and the Namgung family had compensated for the incident, it all started with Namgung Myung’s theft.
Yet, seeing a familiar face after so long, Tang Mu-jin felt more warmth than resentment. Like meeting an old friend you used to bicker with as a child, only to find some comfort in their presence years later.
“Namgung Myung, what brings you here?”
“Shh.”
Namgung Myung lowered his voice and glanced around.
“Just call me Jang Ja-su.”
It seemed Namgung Myung was also hiding his identity, much like Tang Mu-jin was using an alias.
If he had revealed his real name, others would have clung to him, eager to establish connections.
“Seems like we’re in similar situations. Just call me Jin.”
The two shared a subtle sense of camaraderie and nodded in understanding.
At that moment, the caravan began to move. The mules and packhorses snorted lightly, and the wheels creaked as they started to roll.
Tang Mu-jin considered climbing onto the cart but changed his mind. Instead, he limped awkwardly alongside Namgung Myung.
“Jang Ja-su… or rather, Myung, what brings you here? You’re not on another martial arts journey, are you?”
Namgung Myung chuckled wryly.
“No, it’s not a martial arts journey. After you left last time, my father told me to go out and learn about the world. He said I should become a person, an adult, before becoming a martial artist.”
Tang Mu-jin nodded unconsciously.
In his view, Namgung Myung’s martial skills were impeccable. In fact, his abilities were exceptional even among his peers.
The problem lay in everything outside of martial arts.
He was awkward with people, ignorant of the world, and too straightforward to think ahead. Perhaps because he had lived a life where he never needed to.
At just twenty-three, he wasn’t old, but even considering his youth, Namgung Myung seemed immature.
The most glaring example of this was last year’s sword theft incident.
The heir of a prestigious family running off with someone else’s sword? It was unthinkable.
Though the situation was patched up, Namgung Jin-cheon must have felt a sense of crisis.
“Why a porter, though? If you were to follow a caravan, you could easily secure a position as a bodyguard or leader, given your skills.”
Namgung Myung’s expression turned somber.
“My father said that if I relied on my martial skills or our family’s name, I wouldn’t learn anything. He warned me not to use our name or wield a sword. He even threatened to cut out my tongue or chop off my arm if I did.”
A harsh warning for a father to give his son.
But knowing Namgung Jin-cheon, it seemed plausible. He might even follow through on such threats.
After all, Namgung Jin-cheon had once tried to sever Namgung Myung’s wrist in front of Tang Mu-jin and others.
Tang Mu-jin looked Namgung Myung up and down.
He wasn’t carrying the sword Tang Mu-jin had gifted him, and his nose, once straight, was now crooked. Perhaps it had been broken by Namgung Jin-cheon.
“It hasn’t been a waste of time. You seem different, Myung.”
“You too, Jin. You seem sharper.”
Namgung Myung had been calling Tang Mu-jin “Jin” since earlier.
Though slightly younger, Tang Mu-jin found the title “hyung” a bit uncomfortable.
“Myung, feel free to speak casually. You’re older than me.”
“Does age matter? You saved my wrist, so calling you ‘hyung’ feels right.”
There was no sarcasm or mockery in his tone. Tang Mu-jin reluctantly nodded.
“Alright, call me whatever you like.”
“Let’s have a meal together sometime.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.”
Tang Mu-jin walked over to the cart and sat down, while Namgung Myung, carrying a large pack, followed the caravan.
Promises to have a meal together often fade away, but their dinner plans materialized the very next evening.
Though their experiences differed, both Tang Mu-jin and Namgung Myung had endured significant emotional turmoil. To make matters worse, they had no one to confide in.
So when a suitable conversation partner appeared, there was no reason to delay.
As soon as the caravan entered the village, Namgung Myung gave Tang Mu-jin a knowing look.
It was as clear as a spoken invitation. Tang Mu-jin understood immediately: once the unloading was done, they would share a drink.
The porters spent half an hour unloading and organizing the goods.
Finally free, Namgung Myung approached Tang Mu-jin.
“Shall we go? Dinner’s on me tonight.”
The inn Namgung Myung led Tang Mu-jin to was small and shabby.
It seemed Namgung Myung had been there before, as he ordered food before the server could even speak.
“One bottle of rice wine, a bowl of porridge, two orders of dumplings, and plenty of fried cakes, please.”
As the server nodded and left, Tang Mu-jin asked Namgung Myung.
“I get everything else, but what’s a fried cake?”
“It’s a dish where the dumpling filling is wrapped in dough and fried in pork fat. It’s cheap, quick to make, and greasy enough to be the perfect drinking snack. Anyone who’s been here orders it.”
Tang Mu-jin glanced around. Indeed, several patrons were enjoying fried cakes with their drinks. It felt more like a humble tavern than an inn.
Namgung Myung emptied his coin pouch onto the table. Not a single silver coin, just a pile of copper coins. With utmost seriousness, he counted the coins on the table.
He muttered to himself with a serious expression.
“Nine coins for the rice wine, five for the fried cakes, four each for the dumplings…”
It seemed he was calculating how much they could eat without exceeding his budget.
After some thought, he reached a conclusion.
“We can order another bottle of rice wine or one more fried cake and dumpling. If we need more, just let me know.”
The clear limit paired with “just let me know” was amusing. Tang Mu-jin waved his hand dismissively.
“I have some money too, so don’t worry. We won’t run out of food.”
“No, I insist. I’m treating you today. Leave your coin pouch at the inn.”
Namgung Myung declared confidently, determined to cover the bill.
Tang Mu-jin found the situation refreshing.
He was used to modest inns and saving money, but seeing the heir of a great family counting coins in a rundown inn was something else.
It seemed Namgung Jin-cheon’s plan had worked; Namgung Myung had been living a humble life, learning about the world.
Before long, the food arrived. The savory aroma of the fried cakes filled Tang Mu-jin’s nostrils.
The two of them drank, using the fried cakes and dumplings as snacks. The rice wine was neither expensive nor strong, but there was plenty of it. As time passed, they began to feel the effects.
They shared stories of their recent experiences.
“The Shaolin Temple, huh… That’s quite an experience. I’ve never been there myself.”
“It’s worth visiting at least once.”
“So, Elder Lee stayed in his hometown?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
While Namgung Myung shared everything openly, Tang Mu-jin refrained from mentioning the death of his master or anything related to the assassination plot. It wasn’t the kind of topic for a pleasant drinking session, nor was it something to discuss lightly.
As they exchanged stories, a man entered the inn.
He wasn’t a stranger. He was one of the bodyguards accompanying the caravan, seemingly in charge of the porters.
Seeing Namgung Myung’s back, he raised an eyebrow and approached their table.
Tang Mu-jin assumed he was coming over for some casual conversation, but the man did something unexpected. He struck Namgung Myung on the back of the head, and quite hard at that.
“You little punk. Did the youngest just ditch the cleanup and hide away in the inn?”
Tang Mujin tensed slightly. A bloody confrontation seemed inevitable.
Namgung Myung was a top-tier martial artist, one who had reached the pinnacle of mastery. Even without a sword in hand, or after a few drinks, his skills were incomparable to a third-rate escort. With just a few simple moves, he could easily overpower an opponent.
Indeed, Namgung Myung’s eyes seemed to burn with a cold fury.
But in the next moment, his gaze softened, becoming calm and composed.
Namgung Myung looked at the escort with an expression of feigned ignorance.
“Ah, Escort Maeng, you’re here. I’ve finished all the cleanup. I even checked that all the luggage is sorted.”
“You little punk. Just because the luggage is sorted, does that mean the job’s done? You need to make sure your senior escorts and the others have gone to rest before you can call it a day. How can you be lounging in the inn before me?”
It was a ridiculous complaint. Even Tang Mujin, who wasn’t directly involved, felt a surge of irritation.
As Tang Mujin was about to speak up, Namgung Myung subtly shook his head, signaling him to hold back.
Then, with a posture that seemed almost submissive, he replied, “I apologize. I was inexperienced and didn’t know better.”
“You brat.”
The escort finally seemed satisfied and settled into a corner of the inn.
There are always people like that—those who, given even a little authority, feel the need to crush others to assert their own power.
Tang Mujin looked at Namgung Myung with an expression of exasperation, to which Namgung Myung responded with a silent chuckle.
“I’ve learned to endure this much. Even among the lower ranks of my family, there’s this level of hazing.”
”…It couldn’t have been easy.”
“It’s amusing to talk about this in front of you, Brother Jin, but I’ve had my share of struggles recently. After going through all sorts of experiences, I’ve learned to let most things slide. Compared to what I’ve been through, being an escort isn’t so bad.”
Though Namgung Myung spoke lightly, Tang Mujin didn’t see this as a positive change.
To be precise, the direction of the change wasn’t the issue, but the extent was too much. Sent out to learn about the world and observe the lives of ordinary people, he seemed to have sunk to the very bottom.
Tang Mujin spoke in a disapproving tone. “I doubt your father would have wanted this for you.”
“It’s fine. I haven’t forgotten my father’s lesson that a man should know how to repay his debts.”
Namgung Myung glanced around, then discreetly pulled out a hefty pouch from under the table, showing it to Tang Mujin.
When he untied the string, a generous amount of coins and a few silver pieces were revealed.
Over Namgung Myung’s shoulder, the escort’s face appeared, looking utterly shocked. It seemed Namgung Myung had swiped the escort’s purse in that brief moment.
Watching the escort being chased out by the innkeeper, Namgung Myung smirked slyly.
“Having lost his entire pay, he’ll have a hard time until the end of the journey. Let’s show our gratitude to Escort Maeng by enjoying some expensive wine.”
With a bright expression, Namgung Myung called the innkeeper and ordered two bottles of bamboo chrysanthemum wine, each costing two silver pieces.
Tang Mujin thought to himself that Namgung Myung hadn’t learned to repay debts; he had simply discovered a talent for thievery.