Chapter 170 : Baek Il-gang
Baek Il-gang
The destination, Jin Prefecture in Northern Zhili, was quite a distance from Hanyang in Hogwang, where the Heavenly Martial Hall was located.
They had to stop at several post stations along the way, and each time, Baek Il-gang would glance at Jeong-un with a faintly amused smile in his eyes.
"There's no need for a fine steed anymore, is there? I feel like I've become baggage."
Sometimes he would make such remarks.
Perhaps due to having grown accustomed through several missions, Baek Il-gang, unlike at first, now rode horses very well.
Even when they galloped at full speed, he showed no sign of discomfort.
Still, aside from becoming skillful, that subtle look of aversion on his face remained unchanged.
'Internal power, huh...'
Jeong-un glanced at him, lost in thought.
Judging from the way Zhuge Cheon-woo had spoken, it was certain that Baek Il-gang was somehow connected to Jin Prefecture, the destination of their mission.
Baek Il-gang had likely heard a general explanation from Yeom Baek as well.
However, neither said anything about that topic as they traveled.
Jeong-un didn't particularly feel the need to ask, and though he was curious, suddenly prying would have been awkward.
It was after several days of such journeying.
"You punks! Where are you headed?!"
This was at a pass from Henan into Northern Zhili.
They were riding along the official road when several men blocked the way ahead.
One of them stepped forward and shouted,
"Leave everything you have and walk away. I'll be merciful and spare your lives."
Jeong-un eyed the men, including the one who stepped forward, scanning their bodies.
Their cultivated power was faint but clearly visible, coursing within.
That was enough to get by as bandits among civilians.
Baek Il-gang looked at Jeong-un and asked quietly,
"What shall we do?"
"... Let's settle it quickly."
Jeong-un replied simply, recalling the time when he first set out into the martial world.
At least the scoundrels before him now knew how to handle internal energy, unlike those from back then, whose only weapons were shabby arms barely worth holding.
'Right, this is how the world was.'
It was said that the Central Plains were riddled with bandits and thieves.
The land was so vast that the borderlands between jurisdictions, out of the government's reach, especially teemed with such people.
To the warriors of the Heavenly Martial Hall, who constantly traveled throughout these regions, these were inevitable encounters.
As soon as Jeong-un's words fell, the situation was settled in an instant.
There wasn't even a need for him to act.
Baek Il-gang dismounted with a leap and was already right in front of the men.
"Wh-what?"
"Wait, could this guy be...?!"
They were the sort who only possessed a thin thread of internal energy within their bodies—men who didn't want to work earnestly but had plenty of desires, naturally coveting what belonged to others.
Such people could hardly handle the skills of a martial expert like Baek Il-gang.
Baek Il-gang, having settled the situation, climbed back on his horse and spoke.
"This country clearly isn't normal. To think Northern Zhili, directly governed by the emperor himself, is in this state."
The moment one brandished weapons capable of harming others, they became a martial artist.
And the ability to recognize someone more skilled than oneself was an essential virtue for martial artists.
Because these bandits failed to possess that virtue today, they had all crossed the river of death.
There was no need to pity them.
After all, they were the type who lived by threatening the lives of others.
"A four-stripe warrior should just stay put. From now on, this low-rank warrior will deal with all the trifling matters."
Baek Il-gang, reins in hand, made a joking remark as he returned to his saddle. Jeong-un frowned slightly and replied,
"Please don't say things like that. It almost sounds as if there's a hierarchy between us."
"Hmm? It's well-known that the Heavenly Martial Hall has clear ranks."
"That's only for while we're here, isn't it? At most, for five years."
Jeong-un answered a bit sheepishly, not wanting to relate to his colleagues in a rigid superior-subordinate relationship.
He preferred things to stay easygoing as they were now.
Baek Il-gang gave a little laugh.
"You speak as if you don't know. If anything, there's even more strict hierarchy outside. The world you live in, young hero, is thoroughly divided by rank through status and martial arts level. You must know that well by now, don't you?"
"......"
Jeong-un fell silent.
Baek Il-gang wasn't wrong.
Having experienced the martial world for some time, Jeong-un knew that the order of society was anything but fair.
Most people lived their whole lives according to the status they were born into, regardless of their natural talent for civil or martial pursuits.
If you were mediocre, you stood out and were oppressed even more.
Thus, overturning your fate entirely required truly extraordinary ability.
No wonder so many people flocked to the Heavenly Martial Hall.
Jeong-un gazed steadily at Baek Il-gang and spoke.
"What about you, young hero Baek?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why did you come to the Heavenly Martial Hall?"
"......"
This time, Baek Il-gang became silent. His eyes seemed to harden, if only slightly.
In truth, they'd had a similar conversation before. Back then, it was just a casual question, something anyone might ask once.
But now it was different. Baek Il-gang was likely guessing inwardly at the reasons he'd been designated to accompany Jeong-un.
"Well, is there any difference from the others? Now that I've come of age, I just want to live properly."
"......"
Jeong-un nodded without asking further.
* * *
At last, they arrived at the city center of Jin Prefecture.
Northern Zhili's Jin Prefecture was a very important metropolis, even among the lands of Great Ming.
Situated directly on the main road south of Beijing in Shuncheon Prefecture, it also served to block northern barbarians from invading.
Its city walls were tremendously tall for this reason.
Most notably, the river running through the city fueled intense commercial development, making the region very wealthy.
Naturally, the population was enormous as well.
And it was here, in Jin Prefecture, that the Zhao clan of Changshan had firmly established themselves.
Although it was rumored they played second fiddle in military strength to the mighty Hebei Peng Clan—a house that formed one of the five great families and maintained close ties with the royal family—Zhao clan of Changshan was still a traditional powerhouse in its own right.
Especially within Jin Prefecture, it was said they received more respect from the common people than even the Peng Clan.
There were reportedly dozens of shrines dedicated to the Tiger Might General in the twenty-seven counties—a testament to their status.
'Sorrowful Edge Divine Spear, that's right.'
Jeong-un recalled their firstborn, Zhao Gang.
The spear used by his ancestor, the Duke of Sunpyeong, was so renowned that it had earned a special epithet.
That spoke to Zhao Gang's incredible martial prowess.
Since Jeong-un had even dueled him directly, he knew firsthand that the rumors were true.
But aside from that, Zhao Gang's natural conduct made him a likable person.
Every renowned martial artist Jeong-un had met was preoccupied with self-adornment, as if to flaunt their house's prestige with expensive clothes and ornaments.
But not Zhao Gang.
Contrary to what you'd expect from a scion of a prestigious martial house, he wore unpretentious martial garb during their duel.
Even with thousands of eyes watching, he remained the same.
Thus they faced each other again.
"It's been a while, young hero Yu."
After entering the city center, they headed straight for the Yang estate of Zhao clan of Changshan.
There was no need to prowl for information—after all, they'd already secured a Demonic Cultist.
Zhao Gang greeted Jeong-un with a bright smile as soon as the guards at the gate saw his identification token and dashed inside to fetch him.
Zhao Gang, the heir himself, appeared at the main gate.
"It's been a long time."
Jeong-un, feeling slightly awkward, offered a martial salute. For good reason.
Back when he'd last seen Zhao Gang, he was Cheon Pung of the Baek Sword Gate, not Yu Jeong-un of the Heavenly Martial Hall.
Moreover, that was their final encounter, so such formal greetings now felt a little embarrassing.
"I was overjoyed to hear from the Heavenly Martial Hall that you yourself would be visiting, young hero Yu. I wondered if we'd meet again, so I'm just glad to see you—even if it's not under the best of circumstances."
"I don't know how to thank you for your warm hospitality. I'll do my utmost to be of help."
"Hearing that is thanks enough for me."
As Jeong-un spoke, Zhao Gang bowed his head.
He then turned to Baek Il-gang.
"Il-gang, it's been a while for you too."
"...?"
Jeong-un blinked in surprise and looked behind him to find Baek Il-gang giving a casual nod, his expression nonchalant.
"The two of you know each other?"
* * *
They promptly headed for the office of Zhao Gang's father and the clan head, Zhao Pyeong.
This was unlike the time they visited the Yang Clan in Kaifeng—then, only Yang Se-ok, the son, had appeared.
No matter how much of a warrior of the Heavenly Martial Hall one was, it wasn't enough to meet the head of a great clan in person.
Even if they had come at the clan's request, it had merely been to answer the Murim Alliance's annual tribute, which brought down the assignment.
But this time was different.
They were led straight to the clan head's office as if it were only natural.
Even though Zhao clan of Changshan had also petitioned for assistance, and the alliance had handed the information to the Heavenly Martial Hall, resulting in Jeong-un's mission, the treatment was unmistakably different now.
'Rank follows where status changes.'
He thought back to what Baek Il-gang had said on the way to Jin Prefecture—that hierarchy was even stricter outside the Heavenly Martial Hall.
Already, that statement had proven true.
"This is Yu Jeong-un of the Blue Scale Corps."
The first time he'd met Zhao Gang in a duel, he'd thought he looked more like a young elite general than a martial artist.
But his father, Zhao Pyeong, was even more imposing—an upright face and robust frame, truly the image of what an imperial grand general might look like.
"You are..."
Zhao Pyeong was not alone.
Fitting for such a prestigious house, the office was spacious, with the clan head at the head of a long table, surrounded by other figures.
Were they in charge of key clan affairs? They were all middle-aged men of various appearances.
'Is this the clan style?'
Strangely, they all had a distinctive look in their eyes, marked by a peculiar uprightness.
Come to think of it, there was not a single antique furnishing in this impressive office.
Only a large table and a few plain implements.
It was immediately clear where the atmosphere Jeong-un sensed from Zhao Gang came from.
"A real four-stripe warrior, is it..."
"I hear he took the head of an unorthodox peerless expert..."
"How does one of such age give off such ki pathways? Astounding, simply astounding."
As soon as Jeong-un offered his martial salute to Zhao Pyeong, comments erupted as if on cue.
Several eyes widened, all staring intently at Jeong-un as if unable to believe it even when seeing for themselves.
Zhao Pyeong, too, gazed steadily at Jeong-un for a moment, his eyes wide, before finally speaking.
"To be honest, even after hearing the many rumors, I was doubtful. Even after hearing from Gang, I was unsure. Having walked the martial path for decades myself, I know what level of skill is achievable at that age. But the rumors didn't do you justice. I realize now it was my own sight that was lacking."
"You are too kind,"
Jeong-un replied quietly, eyes downcast.
On top of the plain stares, his face burned as if it were being gilded with exaggerated praise.
These situations never failed to embarrass him, unless, perhaps, he wore the norigae handed to him by the General Affairs Department.
"Hmph..."
The members of the Zhao Clan exchanged glances and nodded. Even this, it seemed, appeared to them as humility.
Finally, Zhao Pyeong turned his head toward Jeong-un, as if greeting an old acquaintance.
Then he looked at Baek Il-gang and spoke.
"Yes, someone from the Baek House came by not too long ago. You..."
"I'd rather not discuss my father."
"...?"
"Perhaps you've forgotten, but I am also a warrior of the Heavenly Martial Hall."