Chapter 11. Jang Ho
Dong Bong-su ultimately decided not to kill them. That thought could change again, but at least for now, he judged that there was no need to kill them outright.
Whether Do Pal-du and the thugs knew or not that their lives had, in an instant, crossed the threshold of the underworld and come back again, they kept walking forward without a care.
They led Dong Bong-su all the way to the end of the alley, to a completely secluded corner. This was a place that people had rarely visited even in the past. In times like these, there was no way anyone would come here.
Smack.
Once he was sure there was no one around, Do Pal-du suddenly swung his hand and slapped Dong Bong-su across the face.
The bastard's palm was large and broad, like the paw of a beast. Unless one was a Murim person, there was no way to endure a blow from such a hand.
With a crisp sound of flesh colliding, Dong Bong-su was sent sprawling long across the ground.
Before taking money, this kind of beating was a customary ritual among thugs.
For bottom-feeding punks, acts of violence like this were one of life's pleasures, no less than stealing and spending money.
For lives at rock bottom, preying on and tormenting even lower basement-dwellers was a fleeting amusement in their foul-smelling existence.
For those on the receiving end, it was something to shed tears of blood over, but for human refuse like them, violence?
It was a source of vitality in life.
Thud, thump-thump.
Dong Bong-su silently endured the group beating from Do Pal-du and the other thugs. However, even as he lay facedown on the ground, his eyes were shining white. If Do Pal-du had seen those eyes, he would have wet himself—or never again thought of extorting money from Dong Bong-su.
Those were not human eyes. Nor were they the murderous eyes of apex predators like lions or tigers.
They were simply void—eyes devoid of any emotion.
Anyone who wonders why emotionless eyes are frightening says so only because they have never faced such eyes.
All living beings have emotions. Especially, they are extremely sensitive to pain.
Yet Dong Bong-su looked like someone who felt no emotion at all—particularly not pain.
Imagine eyes utterly unmoved while blood pours out in streams. Few could meet such a gaze without feeling anything.
Thud, thump...…
The violence of the thug gang seemed like it would never end. Their kicking finally stopped only after someone's voice rang out.
"What do you think you're doing right now?"
It was a heavy voice. Dong Bong-su, still lying prone, lifted his head and looked toward where the voice came from. A man in his thirties, dressed in black, was standing there. With his solid build, at first glance he looked like just another thug.
"Jang Ho hyung-nim!"
"I asked what you think you're doing."
But that was Dong Bong-su's mistake.
Jang Ho was actually a member of the Black Snake Association, one of the three black factions that controlled the back alleys of Bongyang. The thugs might live as punks, but even among them, these people were bottom-tier lives.
All thugs had to pay taxes to the black factions, who moved in darker, higher places than they did. Because the black factions had learned even basic martial arts like the Three Talents Sword Art, they were incomparably stronger than back-alley thugs like these. Sometimes, thugs even had to take the fall and be dragged off in coffins for crimes committed by members of the black factions.
Although Jang Ho was merely a low-ranking member of the Black Snake Association, he was in a completely different league from Do Pal-du, the leader of the thug gang. Even if Jang Ho killed Do Pal-du, no one in Bongyang would care. The same went for Do Pal-du's subordinates.
Dong Bong-su realized that things were unfolding differently from what he had expected. Still, he did not yet feel the need to eliminate them.
He quietly spat out the blood pooled in his mouth and straightened his waist.
Maintaining that posture, he gripped the slack reins of Yeoro and carefully observed the situation.
"Ah, ah, well, it's just that this guy talked back, so we were making an example out of him..."
Without a word, Jang Ho glanced once at Dong Bong-su, then looked at Yeoro.
"......"
A strange glint flickered in his eyes.
In contrast, Dong Bong-su's pupils sank deeply. He had read the wavering greed in Jang Ho's gaze.
Tap, tap.
Jang Ho turned and slowly approached Do Pal-du.
Sensing that something was off, Do Pal-du stumbled backward.
"H-hyung-nim! W-why are you...!"
Crack.
Jang Ho suddenly lunged at Do Pal-du, grabbed his arm, and twisted it violently behind him.
"Aaaargh!"
"Isn't it the same for you, daring to talk back to me?"
Judging by the grotesque angle of Do Pal-du's arm, it was clear it had been ruined. From now on, he would probably have to live his life as a left-hander.
With that, his days as leader of the thug gang were over. Most likely, one of the other trembling thugs who had backed away would become the new leader—assuming they survived today, that is.
Jang Ho showed no interest whatsoever in the fact that Do Pal-du's arm had been crippled. He pressed his foot lightly on Do Pal-du's head as he writhed on the ground in agony, then walked back toward Dong Bong-su.
"That's a fine horse. What breed is it?"
Jang Ho carefully stroked Yeoro's mane.
Dong Bong-su knew that Jang Ho was asking him, but he did not answer. Wasn't he known as a mute right now? It wasn't that he couldn't answer, but the moment he did, he would have to kill everyone here. And to do that, he first needed to know his opponent well. He was already done figuring out Do Pal-du and the thug gang and was confident he could deal with them without issue, but...
The problem was Jang Ho, who was pressuring him right in front of him.
Dong Bong-su had met him for the first time today. Needless to say, he knew nothing about Jang Ho. That was what made him hesitate.
"I asked what breed this horse is."
Jang Ho's voice grew heavier.
Dong Bong-su read the killing intent deeply embedded in that voice.
'Is he aiming for me?'
Dong Bong-su became certain. He didn't know the exact reason, but the man in front of him intended to kill him.
As it turned out, Jang Ho had appeared here from the beginning with Dong Bong-su as his target—or more precisely, with Yeoro as his target.
Bang Po-yeom, the leader of the Black Snake Association, was a man who went mad for good horses. For a long time, he had coveted Yeoro, the horse of Danri Cheon-u.
However, he knew very well that touching Yeoro carelessly could result in the Black Snake Association being erased from Bongyang.
But how easily can human greed be quelled just by restraint?
For a long time, he had ordered Jang Ho to observe Yeoro—or more precisely, the Horse Stable Hirelings who managed Yeoro. Recently, he heard that a mute fool named Sosam had taken over managing Yeoro.
Thinking that the time had finally come, he ordered Jang Ho to steal Yeoro. Jang Ho had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to carry out Bang Po-yeom's command, and he believed that moment was now.
If Sosam, Do Pal-du, and all his cronies were killed here, and only Do Pal-du's corpse was disposed of, all the blame would fall on Do Pal-du alone.
Crack, pop.
Jang Ho lightly cracked his finger joints and slowly drew killing intent up from his body.
There was no longer any choice.
'I have to fight.'
Feeling the killing intent oozing from Jang Ho's body, Dong Bong-su smiled inwardly. And unlike before, he felt certainty.
Certainty that he could take down Jang Ho.
There was no dumber thing than flaunting one's killing intent in front of prey.
Have you ever seen a tiger or lion reveal its killing intent before a hunt succeeds?
Never.
A true hunter does not reveal killing intent until the moment they bite the prey's neck. They must not reveal it. If the prey flees because killing intent was raised before the hunt, then that person lacks the qualities of a hunter.
And yet.
He himself was no ordinary prey.
Jang Ho had misjudged his target.
Step.
Placing a hand on one knee, Dong Bong-su slowly rose to his feet. His head was still lowered toward the ground, and to anyone watching, he looked exactly like someone trembling in fear.
"I won't ask three times."
As Jang Ho said that, he grabbed Dong Bong-su's arm.
That was the moment.
"Then kill me. Why bother asking three times?"
It was a voice without any inflection. If voices had pitch, then every pitch of this voice would have been exactly the same. Unless it was a machine, who could make such a sound? No one but Dong Bong-su could.
Those words were the first words Dong Bong-su had spoken to anyone since coming to the Murim. And they were perfectly fitting of him. Not just the content of the words, but the outcome as well.
"Huh!? You can talk?"
Jang Ho was momentarily flustered when Sosam—whom he believed to be mute—suddenly spoke. It might have seemed insignificant, but that tiny opening was more than enough for Dong Bong-su. He snapped his head up.
Stab.
When—exactly when?
Between Dong Bong-su's upper and lower teeth, a blade was clenched.
"H-how...?"
The blade pierced completely through one side of Jang Ho's neck, digging into the flesh, and the sharp tip of the dagger jutted grotesquely out the other side, glinting along with blood.
Crack.
Grabbing Jang Ho's neck as he asked "how," Dong Bong-su snapped it cleanly.
"I don't know either."
Even as he lost his life, Jang Ho kept making gurgling sounds, coughing up bloody foam, as if he were still desperately curious. His eyes seemed to ask how he had held a blade in his mouth and spoken at the same time.
There was already no blade in Dong Bong-su's mouth. It was already inside his inventory.
"It just works, like this."