Episode 86: Ban Yong-gweol

Ban Yong-gweol lost his parents at a young age and grew up on the streets until he was taken in by the head of Seongrimmun, a minor sect in the capital. Thanks to this, he learned martial arts from an early age and managed to reach the initial stages of the second rank at a relatively young age.

However, it wasn’t his unfortunate childhood that twisted Ban Yong-gweol’s personality. He found a subtle pleasure and pride in overpowering others.

Like most minor sects, Seongrimmun was neither righteous nor evil. It wasn’t because the head of Seongrimmun had a balanced perspective; rather, no one cared about the principles of a minor sect leader.

Dang Mujin quietly scaled the wall of Seongrimmun and slipped inside. He had passed by the entrance countless times, but this was his first time inside the walls.

“Where could Ban Yong-gweol be?”

Focusing his mind, Dang Mujin slowly wandered through Seongrimmun, sensing for any presence. There weren’t many. At most, three or four people.

As expected. In a small sect like Seongrimmun, students usually lived nearby in their own homes.

Suddenly, a small question popped into Dang Mujin’s mind.

“Why am I looking for Ban Yong-gweol? We agreed to talk later when we met earlier.”

But soon, a strange certainty gripped him. Ban Yong-gweol was hiding something. Yes, there was definitely something. He had to find him immediately.

Dang Mujin moved with purpose, avoiding the central building where Ban Yong-gweol was unlikely to be, and checked the smaller structures on the outskirts first.

His intuition was correct. He sensed a familiar presence. It was Ban Yong-gweol.

Carefully, Dang Mujin opened the door. Ban Yong-gweol was lying down, but he wasn’t deeply asleep. He tossed and turned, then noticed Dang Mujin, gasping in surprise.

“Who are you—?”

“Stay quiet.”

Dang Mujin’s left hand covered Ban Yong-gweol’s mouth while his right hand pressed on a pressure point. Ban Yong-gweol could only open and close his mouth silently, unable to make a sound.

Startled, Ban Yong-gweol struggled. If it were the old master, he might have used a more precise pressure point, but completely immobilizing someone was a tricky task, especially when they were thrashing about.

Dang Mujin slapped Ban Yong-gweol’s cheek a couple of times, then partially drew the sword from his waist. The blade glinted blue in the moonlight.

“You don’t want any holes in your body, do you? It’s best to stay still.”

Ban Yong-gweol trembled violently.

Dang Mujin pulled out a thick rope and tied Ban Yong-gweol’s hands and feet, then glanced around the room. In one corner, he spotted a black mask.

Seeing the mask sent a chill down his spine. He recalled the old master, dead with a dagger in his forehead.

With a sense of inexplicable certainty, Dang Mujin shoved the black mask into Ban Yong-gweol’s chest.

“You vile creature. Did you think I wouldn’t find out you were pretending to be uninvolved with the murders?”

Dang Mujin hoisted the squirming Ban Yong-gweol over his shoulder and headed outside. Ban Yong-gweol was quite large, and the weight on his shoulder and waist was substantial.

For some reason, he felt a surge of satisfaction. Like a hunter proudly displaying his catch.

Just as Dang Mujin was about to scale the wall again, a middle-aged man with a thin mustache appeared, stopping him. It was the head of Seongrimmun.

“Who are you? And who is that on your shoulder?”

Dang Mujin, ever respectful to his elders, gently set Ban Yong-gweol down and offered a polite bow.

“It’s been a while, Master. I’m Dang Mujin. This is Ban Yong-gweol.”

The head of Seongrimmun was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a courteous response.

Caught between Dang Mujin’s suspicious actions and his calm voice, the head of Seongrimmun felt a strong sense of unease.

“Dang Mujin of the Dang family clinic? What is going on? Where are you taking Ban Yong-gweol?”

“I have some questions for him.”

“What could be so urgent that you would subdue someone and try to sneak away in the dead of night?”

“I can’t go into detail, but it involves this.”

Dang Mujin pulled the mask from Ban Yong-gweol’s chest.

The head of Seongrimmun’s heart skipped a beat. He had known Ban Yong-gweol ran with a rough crowd, but he had never been strict with him, treating him like a son.

“I know he’s been causing trouble with his gang. I’ll deal with him harshly. Could you overlook it just this once?”

“If it were just that, I wouldn’t have come this far. Ban Yong-gweol has committed far worse. I’m here to make him pay for the countless lives he’s taken.”

The head of Seongrimmun flinched. Had Ban Yong-gweol really taken lives? Not just one or two, but many?

Ban Yong-gweol writhed on the ground, looking desperately at the head of Seongrimmun.

With his pressure points sealed, Ban Yong-gweol couldn’t speak, but the head of Seongrimmun, having known him for so long, could guess his meaning from his expression and gestures. Ban Yong-gweol seemed genuinely wronged.

Moreover, something was off about Dang Mujin. He wasn’t the gentle young man from the Dang family clinic that the head of Seongrimmun remembered. His demeanor seemed rational, but there was a clear madness lurking beneath.

“If I let you go now, I doubt Ban Yong-gweol will return unharmed. Am I wrong?”

The head of Seongrimmun spread his legs, lowering his stance to stabilize himself.

It was the preparatory stance of Seongrim Fist, the martial art that had earned him the title of a first-rate martial artist.

Dang Mujin spoke with a hint of reluctance.

“I don’t wish to fight you, Master.”

“Then leave Ban Yong-gweol here. I’ll deal with him strictly… or come back tomorrow when the sun is up. I’ll punish him in front of you.”

“I can’t do that. You intend to spare him, don’t you?”

As if it were only natural to suggest Ban Yong-gweol’s death.

The head of Seongrimmun steeled his resolve. Ban Yong-gweol was a flawed and troublesome child, but to the head of Seongrimmun, he was like a son. He wouldn’t let him die. His eyes narrowed, and his stance became even more solid.

The intention to fight back was clear.

Instead of drawing his sword, Dang Mujin assumed the preparatory stance of Seongrim Fist, just like the head of Seongrimmun.

Despite his cold demeanor towards Ban Yong-gweol, there was no trace of murderous intent in Dang Mujin’s movements as he faced the head of Seongrimmun.

“Strange.”

The head of Seongrimmun sensed an unusual aura emanating from Dang Mujin. He couldn’t gauge his exact level, but it was clear this wouldn’t be an easy fight.

Ban Yong-gweol, sprawled on the ground, twisted his body, hoping for the head of Seongrimmun’s victory.

“Haap!”

The head of Seongrimmun charged at Dang Mujin. While not as significant as in swordplay, seizing the initiative was advantageous in fist techniques as well.

His fist flew towards the space between Dang Mujin’s shoulder and chest, targeting the Tianzhong point. It was an attack meant to subdue, not kill.

But Dang Mujin’s left hand moved smoothly, deflecting the head of Seongrimmun’s fist. Then, Dang Mujin’s right hand shot forward, aiming for the head of Seongrimmun’s abdomen, near the Taiyi and Guanmen points. It wasn’t even a fist, but an open palm.

Just like the head of Seongrimmun, Dang Mujin clearly didn’t intend to kill.

As the head of Seongrimmun deflected Dang Mujin’s forearm to the side, Dang Mujin seamlessly transitioned into a second technique. When the head of Seongrimmun blocked the second move, Dang Mujin’s flow naturally led into a third technique.

The head of Seongrimmun realized.

“This isn’t an exchange of blows.”

At a glance, it seemed like they were trading techniques, but their roles were clearly defined.

Dang Mujin attacked, and the head of Seongrimmun struggled to defend. Amidst the relentless barrage of Dang Mujin’s fists and palms, the head of Seongrimmun couldn’t find a way to counter.

It felt like the Shaolin fist techniques he had observed from afar in his youth. Each move was solid, yet the emphasis on flow created an endless chain of attacks.

Setting aside effort and experience, the difference in the level of their martial arts was too great.

And that wasn’t all. The head of Seongrimmun felt Dang Mujin’s internal energy seeping in with each clash of their limbs. It was as if his mind and stomach were being churned. He was severely outmatched in terms of internal energy.

“How is this possible?”

The exchange didn’t last long. The head of Seongrimmun took a hit to the abdomen, stumbling backward and vomiting the contents of his stomach.

“Ugh, blegh!”

As he turned his head to the side, retching, his eyes met Ban Yong-gweol’s. Despair was etched all over Ban Yong-gweol’s face.

When the head of Seongrimmun finished retching, Dang Mujin approached. His expression was that of the gentle young man from the Dang family clinic, not a warrior driven by rage.

“I’m sorry. Just get a good night’s sleep. You’ll wake up by lunchtime at the latest.”

Dang Mujin gently covered the mouth of the Seongrim Gate Master with his right hand and brought his left hand close to the master’s nose.

A faint scent wafted from his palm. It wasn’t poison, perhaps more like a sedative.

The master’s entire body relaxed, and his mind grew hazy. Soon, he slumped over, unconscious.

Carefully, Dang Mujin carried the unconscious master to what seemed to be his bedroom and laid him down. He even adjusted the pillow to ensure the master wouldn’t wake up with a stiff neck or shoulders.

Stepping back outside, Dang Mujin considered his next move. He had planned to take Banyong-gweol over the wall of Seongrim Gate, but realized there was nowhere suitable to take him.

He couldn’t take him to a doctor, nor could he intrude into someone else’s home. Waking up sleeping people would be a nuisance.

His gaze fell on the small building from which he had dragged Banyong-gweol. With the master subdued, there was no need to leave the premises.

Dang Mujin tossed Banyong-gweol into the room and shut the door.

Looking at Banyong-gweol sprawled on the floor, a part of him wanted to end it all right there. But an equally strong aversion rose within him.

“Can I really kill someone so easily? Even if he’s an assassin from Salmak, I have no concrete evidence.”

This wasn’t a rational judgment but rather a reflection of Dang Mujin’s gentle nature, honed over twenty years of living as a healer.

After a moment of contemplation, he reached a slightly twisted conclusion.

“I’ll get him to confess to being from Salmak, then I’ll decide.”

Dang Mujin released Banyong-gweol’s pressure points and drove his sword into the center of the floor—a silent threat. Make a noise, and you’ll die.

He crouched in front of Banyong-gweol and spoke.

“Now, talk.”

“W-what do you want me to say?”

Banyong-gweol’s voice, usually so full of bravado, trembled pathetically.

But Dang Mujin thought it sounded insincere, like a deceitful act.

“There must be a reason you attacked me.”

”…It was a stupid reason. I’m sorry!”

“You know that’s not the answer I’m looking for. Explain properly.”

Dang Mujin asked calmly, without even a hint of violence.

This calmness terrified Banyong-gweol even more. It wasn’t a mix of anger and reason but a coexistence of both, which was unsettlingly inhuman.

Banyong-gweol began to spill his thoughts, disorganized but honest.

“I was just envious. I know people treat me like dirt. They avoid me not out of fear but disgust. But you’re different. People come to you for help. I was jealous of that. And I hated the thought of you surpassing me. I know it’s stupid. Please forgive me…”

He poured out his feelings, forgetting his shame.

But this wasn’t the confession Dang Mujin wanted. He tilted his head slightly and asked again.

“That’s not it. Someone wanted me dead. Someone must have ordered you to kill me and everyone around me. Who was it?”

“Order? There was no order! I acted like an idiot, all on my own!”

“Well, you people are always tight-lipped. You don’t say a word until a blade’s at your throat.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t know anything!”

“I’ll help you remember.”

Dang Mujin smiled. Banyong-gweol saw the quiet storm of anger, hatred, and madness swirling in his eyes.

Those eyes were more terrifying than the sword gleaming on the floor. Instinctively, Banyong-gweol lowered his head, avoiding Dang Mujin’s gaze.

‘This guy’s not in his right mind. He’s completely lost it…’

Then, Dang Mujin gently patted the back of Banyong-gweol’s head.

“Yong-gweol, there’s a place called Jewon in Hanam. The Jewon Baek family lives there.”

“Y-yeah. The Jewon Baek family.”

The sudden change in topic caught Banyong-gweol off guard, but he nodded along, hoping it might appease Dang Mujin.

“The head of the family was Baek Chuseo. He was terribly incompetent and narrow-minded, but he had some backbone. Yet, it didn’t take him long to spill everything he knew, and he begged for death within a quarter of an hour.”

Banyong-gweol’s jaw trembled, his teeth chattering, and his mind went blank.

“Yong-gweol, I won’t lie and say I’ll spare you. But if you don’t come clean, you won’t even get to die.”

Banyong-gweol gasped for breath. Dang Mujin was up to something.

How could he answer to escape this predicament?

Before he could find an answer, a strange sensation spread through him. Though Dang Mujin hadn’t moved a muscle, a sharp pain erupted in his chest.

It wasn’t an illusion. Within moments, the pain spread throughout his body, as if countless tiny blades were stabbing and shaking him violently.

“Aaaargh!”

Banyong-gweol realized that if Dang Mujin intended to spare him, he wouldn’t inflict such agony. This was beyond human endurance.

In a moment of clarity, Banyong-gweol made the wisest decision of his life.

Though his limbs were bound, he twisted his body desperately, aiming to impale his neck on the sword embedded in the floor.

But Dang Mujin was faster. He pulled the sword out and sheathed it.

“Kill me!”

“We’re just getting started. Besides, I told you, you can’t die. Signal me when you’re ready to talk about your backer.”

Dang Mujin’s hand reached for Banyong-gweol, clearly intending to press his pressure points again.

Banyong-gweol twisted his body desperately to avoid Dang Mujin’s touch.

“Who! Who do I need to name? Please!”

“No, I don’t need a false confession.”

Even as he endured the excruciating pain, Banyong-gweol racked his brain. What answer did Dang Mujin want? But the clues were too few.

In his agony, Banyong-gweol blurted out every name he could think of.

Friends, acquaintances, anyone.

“Huwan-cheong! Du Jachung! Im Ryeong-gwang! Seongrim Gate Master! Cheongseong Sect, Cheongseong Sect warriors! Amipa nuns! Aagh, aagh! Wonpyeong! Dan Seolyeong! Dang Jesun! Unyang! You bastard, just kill me! Aagh!”

“Don’t just blurt out names. Think carefully and speak honestly.”

How could he think carefully and speak honestly in such a state?

But Dang Mujin, oblivious to the absurdity of his own words, pressed Banyong-gweol’s pressure points again. Banyong-gweol needed time to be honest.

How much time passed like that? After Banyong-gweol had fainted and awakened several times, a voice called out from outside.

“Villain who attacked Seongrim Gate, come out and state your name!”

A low but unmistakably clear voice.

Dang Mujin opened the door and stepped into the courtyard of Seongrim Gate.

Three people stood there: Hwang Ryeongja, the head of the Cheongseong Sect’s Seongdo branch, Jin Song, the chief instructor, and the Seongrim Gate Master who seemed to have summoned them.

The four exchanged bewildered glances.