6 – Path of Retribution (1)

Chui arrived at a village in Naesong County, Anhui Province.

From each household where pale smoke rose from the hearths came a variety of sounds—laughter, crying, shouting.

Among them was one house from which no smoke rose and no sound could be heard.

A collapsing thatched cottage.

Chui passed through the rotting wicker gate and stepped into a weed-choked yard.

Each time the cold wind blew, the cracked signboard creaked and groaned.

It seemed to have once been a smithy that made farming tools such as sickles and pitchforks.

“It’s been a while since I was last here.”

Chui muttered quietly.

Before his regression, when he was roaming about under the fearsome moniker Spear Demon, he had once stopped by this place.

···Bang!

Chui pushed open the smithy door without ceremony and walked in.

“Who is it?”

A voice came from the darkness.

Chui replied,

“It’s me.”

“······?”

At that, the old man who had been perched on the table lifted his head.

An old man missing his right eye, right hand, and right leg raised his bloodless face and looked at Chui.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Chui.”

“Never heard of you. This place is shut down. I don’t work anymore.”

“I know.”

Chui walked up to the old man and sat down across the table.

Then he said,

“I came to have some farming tools made.”

“I told you I shut down. Are your ears clogged, brat?”

“Let’s start with a hammer.”

“······You’re insane.”

The old man looked away from Chui.

Then, just as he was about to raise the liquor bottle in his hand to his mouth—

“Length seventeen chon. Handle circumference four chon. The head spherical. And keep the weight under ten geun.”

Chui’s words made the old man’s hand stop.

He set the bottle down and stared at Chui for a moment.

“You won’t be able to drive nails with something like that.”

“It’s not for nails.”

“Hah. Want me to stick a few spikes on the hammerhead too?”

“That’d make it inconvenient to carry.”

“······.”

The old man stared at Chui in silence.

Then—

Thud.

He placed the liquor bottle firmly on the table.

Narrowing his one remaining eye, he spoke.

“What else?”

“Two awls, eight and a half chon long. One forged twenty-six times, the other thirty-four.”

“The handles?”

“Anything will do. But wrap the outside in the hide of a Hanji-hollyul beast. Around the waist area would be good.”

“Finish?”

“No gaps.”

The old man scratched his head roughly.

Dandruff fell like coarse salt.

“It’ll take time.”

“No. Make it fast.”

“Come the day after tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll come tomorrow afternoon.”

“You really are insane.”

The old man hurled the liquor bottle far away, smashing it.

The pungent liquor soaked into the dust-covered floor.

Chui asked,

“I’d like something with weight and clean lines.”

“How about a blade?”

“Too short.”

“An axe?”

“Too heavy.”

“Looking for a spear?”

“Show me.”

The old man stood up.

He pushed aside the covering on the floor and opened a wooden hatch beneath it.

From within, he pulled out a spear wrapped tightly in black cloth.

A jet-black spear, devoid of any ornamentation.

Chui said flatly,

“Too short. It needs to be over one jang to be useful.”

“You’d only find something like that in the army. This is the longest I’ve got. Sharpening it’ll take a full day.”

Chui nodded.

“Anything small and sensitive?”

“How about iron caltrops?”

“Bring them all.”

The old man rose with difficulty and brushed his hand across the upper wall.

Dust cascaded down, revealing a small hidden compartment inside the wall.

It was packed full of bizarrely shaped spikes.

Click—clack!

The old man took four of them and fitted their heads together.

The spikes locked firmly into place, forming the shape of iron caltrops.

“They’re hollow inside, so they’re good for draining blood. Barbs on the tips, too—once they’re in, they don’t come out easily.”

Chui nodded quietly.

Then he asked again,

“What about work clothes?”

“Hah. Didn’t know there were people who came to a smithy looking for clothes.”

The old man clicked his tongue.

But the listless look from earlier was long gone.

Rustle—

He stripped off the filthy top he was wearing.

It was a gray fur garment, with dried traces of liquor and vomit crusted here and there.

He shook it out and laid it flat on the table.

“Bear hide. One that ate seventy-four people.”

“You managed to kill it?”

“No one did. It died of old age on its own.”

Chui ran a hand over the bear-hide armor.

The old man added,

“Ordinary weapons won’t pierce it. Well, it’ll still hurt, of course.”

Chui nodded.

“What about dessert?”

“What kind?”

“The kind that dries out your tongue. Strong.”

At those words, the old man climbed onto the table.

Dust fell once more as a hatch near the rafters opened.

Inside were rows of small jars no bigger than a palm. The old man took out the most deeply placed, tightly sealed jar.

“Deadly poison. From the Southern Barbarian Mountains. Supposedly what the Miao tribes use. I was too scared to test it myself.”

“Can I sample it?”

“Normally, I’d charge for that.”

Chui broke the seal and sniffed the scent rising from within.

Then he said shortly,

“You were cheated, shopkeeper.”

“Damn it. I had a feeling.”

“Still, give it to me. The Jiang Clan’s poison is usable too. Not as good as the Miao’s, but.”

Chui finished placing his order.

The old man spoke in a dry voice.

“Where should I send it?”

“I’ll come pick it up.”

“Looks like you’re itching to farm.”

“Before that, I plan to make fertilizer. I’ll bury it in the fields in advance.”

“You bought quite a lot. Won’t be cheap.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Chui spoke. The old man listened.

No talk of money passed between them.

The old man closed his single eye and pondered for a moment.

“······After retiring, I lived quietly by myself. Raising a daughter I barely managed to have late in life.”

The old man spoke. Chui listened.

“My daughter died.”

“······.”

“Three days ago.”

“······.”

“Can you bring her back to life?”

“······.”

The old man stared at the creaking door, speaking to himself.

When Chui did not answer, he let out a small sigh.

“The stench of blood was so strong I thought you were a ghost and asked anyway. Figures it wouldn’t work.”

Then, as if resigning himself, he said,

“Then at least kill the ones who killed my daughter.”

“Who?”

“Heukdobang.”

“Understood.”

“There are four of them.”

“I said I understand.”

“They’re called the Heukdo Four Heroes—damn it, aren’t you even going to ask who they are?”

The old man grumbled.

Chui stood up, as if there was no need to hear more.

“I’m going to kill them all anyway.”

With those words, Chui left the smithy.

Just as he was about to step past the wicker gate—

Halt—

Chui’s steps stopped.

Beside the gate stood an empty doghouse.

In front of it lay a horse bone, stained with dried blood.

From behind, the old man’s voice came.

“I slaughtered the dog on Boknal. That’s how I survived this summer.”

The bone that the dog had gnawed on ended up killing the dog instead.

Chui picked up the thick horse bone.

The old man asked,

“What do you want that for?”

“I like it. I’ll use this until the other things are finished.”

Chui left without looking back.

The old man watched him go.

The expression on the old man’s face was subtle.

Whether he was smiling or crying—or perhaps both—it was impossible to tell.

Whether he was thinking of his daughter, or of those who killed her—or perhaps both—that too was unknowable.

Heukdobang. A heterodox sect that dominated Naesong County.

Inside the vast Heukdobang compound, spread out like the back of a whale, an important meeting was being held today.

It was the day when branch leaders from each region gathered to settle tribute payments.

Because of that, the eyes of the gatekeepers at Heukdobang’s main entrance were filled with sharp vigilance.

Then—

A boy dressed in ragged clothes walked up to the main gate of Heukdobang.

In his hand, he held a single foul-smelling bone.

One of the gatekeepers snorted.

“Where’d this dog bone crawl out from?”

Spitting toward Chui standing at the gate, he said,

“You carrying that around to gnaw on it? Get lost. It stinks.”

But the gatekeeper could not finish his sentence.

Crack!

The bone swung down from above shattered his skull, killing him instantly.

“W-what is this!?”

“This bastard—!”

The two other gatekeepers, who had been grinning nearby, reacted hastily, but—

Thud! Crunch—

Their faces caved in and their necks snapped under the bone, killing them instantly as well.

Chui. Three more from Heukdobang, just killed.

He flicked off the freshly dried blood clinging to the bone.

Then he opened the main gate of Heukdobang and stepped inside.

Under the blazing torchlight, the Heukdobang estate was laid bare.

He had been here before his regression, so the internal layout was roughly familiar.

‘······I let a lot of them slip away back then.’

Chui raised the bone and swung it through the air a few times.

Three watchdogs weren’t enough to loosen his body.

‘This time, let’s be more thorough.’

He already knew all the escape routes, so he would be able to hunt down and kill even those he had missed in his previous life.

Chui began to walk forward slowly.

Deeper inside Heukdobang.

Into the deepest part of the hunting ground.

 

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