Absolute Regression

Chapter 615: I’ve Come to Collect the Money

Sima Myung could tell.

That a green flag was waving in Geom Mugeuk’s heart right now. That he placed absolute trust in the Poison King.

The special bond between them was something that even the clever strategists of the Heavenly Communication Pavilion couldn’t analyze.

“What is your brother’s next destination?”

Sima Myung answered while looking at the terrain map.

“The Great Young Master’s next destination is the Black Hand Faction in Akyang.”

One of the subordinates pinned a paper with the name ‘Black Hand Faction’ above the location marked Akyang.

Even without Sima Myung issuing any orders, the strategists of the Heavenly Communication Pavilion immediately began gathering and categorizing information about the Black Hand Faction. It was a demonstration of just what kind of organization the finest intelligence network in the world truly was.

And Sima Myung had already memorized the basic information about the Black Hand Faction.

“The Black Hand Faction is among the most notorious of the black factions in Honam. They expanded their organization through all manner of vile deeds and have grown to become one of the top ten factions in the Honam black underworld. Their recent attempt to purchase counterfeit Blitz Blades appears to be a move to dominate the Honam underworld by suppressing rival factions.”

“What kind of person is their leader?”

“The leader of the Black Hand Faction is someone called Hwang Pa. He’s a man who’s black to his bones. The word is, he’s so obsessed with money that ‘mad for wealth’ doesn’t even begin to describe him. He was raised in the harshest slums and has never backed down when facing an enemy. In Honam’s martial world, people consider him a madman. I doubt even our cult would frighten him.”

To that, Geom Mugeuk responded with an unexpected remark.

“That might actually make it easier for you to deal with him, brother. His greed will be a weak point we can exploit. And if he acts out of line, your own temper will come out, right? People don’t know the truth. Brother, your temper is the worst in the entire cult! Everyone’s being fooled right now!”

Others might frown at someone badmouthing their elder brother behind his back, but at least Sima Myung and the military staff here knew better than anyone.

Just how much Geom Mugeuk had endured to avoid having to kill that ill-tempered brother.

Geom Mugeuk’s voice resounded throughout the command chamber.

“Please send all information and materials on the Black Hand Faction to my brother as quickly as possible.”

“Understood.”

Geom Mugeuk stood up from his seat.

“I’ll take my leave now.”

“Take care.”

Sima Myung offered a respectful martial bow.

“But it’s already late at night. Aren’t you going home, strategist?”

“There’s a place to sleep here. In emergencies, I sleep there.”

“You mean your office?”

“No. There’s a living space with a bed as well.”

It seemed there was a place to sleep within the Heavenly Communication Pavilion too. Since he’d only ever met him in the command room or his office, he hadn’t known such a place existed.

"May I take a quick look around?"

"Please do."

Sima Myung guided Geom Mugeuk toward the soldiers’ quarters.

There were rooms where regular soldiers could sleep, and a separate room had also been prepared for Sima Myung. It was more spacious and comfortable than expected.

"Not long after I became Chief Strategist, the Cult Leader redecorated it for me."

He wondered if perhaps it was around that time that his father had truly begun to trust Sima Myung.

"Do you sleep here often?"

"Originally, I only stayed here during emergencies. But these days, I sleep here frequently."

"You’re not young anymore. You should be sleeping at home."

Sima Myung’s residence was within the cult’s grounds, but even if he went there, he would be alone in that large house. This place felt more comfortable. Still, he couldn’t offer that as a reason.

"As I mentioned before, I’ve benefitted greatly from the mental technique the Cult Leader passed down to me."

He had shared many conversations with Sima Myung and even drank with him once at the Flowing Wind Tavern.

But truthfully, there wasn’t much he really knew about him. Even regarding something as simple as his house. He had a residence within the cult, but Geom Mugeuk had never been there.

Thinking of Gowol, Geom Mugeuk had maintained some distance of his own accord, and Sima Myung didn’t talk about personal matters either.

"Don’t you have some hidden liquor?"

Sima Myung had once mentioned that in his younger days, he could drink endlessly.

He had said it half-jokingly, but now he pulled out a bottle of liquor from a cabinet.

"When I can’t sleep, I have a glass now and then."

Sima Myung poured Geom Mugeuk a drink.

"You should have a drink too, Strategist."

"I don’t drink when an emergency is declared."

Sima Myung poured himself a cup of cooled tea from the kettle and took a sip.

"Does an emergency still get declared when I’m out on missions?"

"To be honest, a higher-level emergency is issued."

That made sense. If the brother leaving triggered an emergency, then having the heir out must warrant an even more serious one.

Sima Myung always greeted him calmly upon his return, but clearly, there was always this long and silent tension being maintained behind the scenes.

Just looking at the stack of documents on the desk against that wall was enough to tell. It showed how that peaceful smile of Sima Myung had come to be.

"I’m sorry."

"What are you talking about? This is only natural—it’s my duty."

"No, I meant I’m apologizing in advance. When Father comes out of retreat, I might start running around again."

At Geom Mugeuk’s half-joking, half-serious remark, Sima Myung gave a faint smile. Geom Mugeuk found himself wanting to do something—anything—for the Chief Strategist who had ended up suffering because of an unfortunate encounter with the Young Cult Leader.

"Is there anything you want to do, Strategist? Ah, aside from unifying the martial world."

At Geom Mugeuk’s addition, Sima Myung’s smile deepened.

"Not particularly."

"Any place you’d like to go?"

Sima Myung quietly shook his head and drank his tea, as if to say there wasn’t.

"Then what was your dream when you were young? Surely it wasn’t to become the Chief Strategist of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, was it?"

Sima Myung briefly recalled his childhood.

He thought there had been many things he had wanted to do. Yet, surprisingly, he couldn’t clearly remember what he had wanted to become, or what he had wished to do.

"I don’t remember well, but... perhaps it was to become the Chief Strategist of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult?"

At Sima Myung’s joke, this time Geom Mugeuk laughed.

"If you can’t remember, it’s probably because you’ve been overusing your brain keeping this cult running."

Then Sima Myung asked about Geom Mugeuk’s dream.

"What was your dream, Acting Cult Leader? Aside from becoming the heir."

"Aside from that, I had none."

Sima Myung asked in surprise at Geom Mugeuk’s answer.

"None?"

"Yes. Why are you so surprised?"

In his life before the regression, he truly had no dreams. From a young age, the only thing on his mind was the competition with his brother and his desire to become the successor. After that, he had lived for nothing else but regression.

And after regressing—what had his dream been?

"I just figured someone like you, Acting Cult Leader, would have a lot of dreams."

"Maybe it seemed that way because I talk too much."

After emptying his glass, Geom Mugeuk stood up from his seat.

"I’ll stop bothering you now and really get going."

"I’ll see you tomorrow."

Sima Myung followed him out and saw him off.

When Geom Mugeuk turned around at the entrance, he saw that Sima Myung wasn’t returning to the quarters with a bed but was instead walking back into the command room.

Until the flags stationed outside returned to the cult, the emergency here would continue.

*         *         *

Hwang Pa, the leader of the Black Hand Faction, was angry.

He was always angry, but today, he was particularly furious.

"So? You still haven’t found the item?"

"No."

The one who gave the curt reply was Myeonggwi, one of Hwang Pa’s closest subordinates.

If the report had come from anyone other than Myeonggwi, a single palm strike would have already shattered their skull.

But even if it were anyone else, it couldn’t be Myeonggwi.

It was Myeonggwi who had made the Black Hand Faction what it was today. Myeonggwi was even stronger in martial arts than the faction’s leader, Hwang Pa, but he remained loyal to Hwang Pa because of the debt he owed him for saving his son.

Five years ago, a group of wanderers had murdered Myeonggwi’s wife and tried to kill his young son. Hwang Pa, who happened to be passing by, killed the attackers and saved the child.

Since that day, Myeonggwi had devoted himself as one of Hwang Pa’s hands and feet.

"Are you sure the guys who sold us the goods didn’t stage the whole thing?"

This time, they had agreed in secret to pay a large sum and purchase one of the Ten Great Golden Dragon Hidden Weapons. But on the very day they received the item, someone had stolen it.

Whoever it was must have known about the deal in advance and seized the opportunity.

"We didn’t pay them. Why would they go that far?"

The sellers had agreed to accept payment after delivery. If they had intended to steal the goods from the start, they would’ve insisted on payment upfront.

“Was it the Daegwangpa bastards after all?”

The Daegwangpa was another black faction in the Honam region, contending with the Black Hand Faction over territorial interests.

At that moment, Myeonggwi quietly raised a hand to draw Hwang Pa’s attention and then spoke softly toward the door.

“Who’s there?”

The door opened, revealing a man.

“I’ve come to collect the money.”

The man wore a deeply pressed bamboo hat, hiding his face, but his low voice carried a rough, domineering aura.

Myeonggwi sent a soundless transmission to Hwang Pa.

—Be careful. He’s no ordinary man.

The mere fact that he had slipped past their guards and made it this far said everything.

Hwang Pa gave a subtle nod and asked the man with the bamboo hat,

“What money are you talking about?”

“If you received the goods, you should pay for them.”

The man stepped forward and sat down across from Hwang Pa.

“We never received the goods.”

“The Changsha Escort Bureau clearly stated they delivered the item to your people.”

Hwang Pa’s gaze sharpened. The thought of having to pay for something he never received filled him with rage.

Of course, had he been the kind of man to calmly pay in such a situation, he wouldn’t have survived in the brutal underworld for as long as he had.

“And what if I say I won’t pay?”

Then the man said quietly,

“Since you haven’t received the item, you must not have tested the hidden weapon yet.”

He raised his hand and pointed it at Hwang Pa. Before anyone noticed, he was holding the Blitz Blade.

“Would you care to be the test subject yourself?”

Srrrng.

Myeonggwi’s sword was already half-drawn. He too was ready to strike in an instant.

“No matter how fast that sword may be, it won’t be faster than this.”

Even with the Blitz Blade pointed at him, Hwang Pa didn’t flinch.

“If this bastard kills me, cut off his limbs, skin his body, and throw it into a barrel of salt.”

Hwang Pa’s confidence came from his belief that the man wouldn’t fire unless he got paid.

And indeed, the man didn’t unleash the Blitz Blade.

“Bring out the one who made the initial deal with us.”

“Why him?”

“When there's no money, someone must pay with their life. I’ll take the life of the one who called us out in the first place.”

He spoke as though it were a principle written in stone.

Hwang Pa felt secretly pleased. He had already been planning to haggle down the price, and if he could substitute a subordinate’s life instead, he’d gladly do so.

He was just about to order his men to bring the subordinate forward when—

“You!”

Myeonggwi, who had been watching the man in silence until now, suddenly spoke up.

“You’re not from that place, are you?”

Hwang Pa turned to Myeonggwi with a startled expression.

"This man isn’t someone who works under others just to collect payments."

The instinctive sense of danger Myeonggwi felt from the man was something he had never experienced in his life.

"Remove your bamboo hat!"

At that, the man slowly took off his bamboo hat.

The one who revealed his face beneath the hat was none other than Geom Muyang.

He had used the fact that the sellers of the counterfeit weapon had demanded post-payment to disguise himself as one of them.

What Geom Muyang needed to uncover from the Black Hand Faction was how they had come into contact with the sellers of the hidden weapon and how the transaction had occurred. Surely someone within the Black Hand Faction had been in charge of the practical dealings.

This operation had been based on the information that Hwang Pa was a man obsessed with money. He was certain to hand over a subordinate in place of money. It was considered an easier and more reliable method than beating the truth out of a madman.

But Myeonggwi had seen through Geom Muyang for what he was—not the type to go around collecting money. Despite the disguise with the bamboo hat and the fierce, wild energy, Myeonggwi had seen through it. It proved Myeonggwi had exceptional discernment.

Geom Muyang returned Myeonggwi’s earlier words back to him.

"You don’t seem like the kind of man who should be serving someone like him either."

The moment their eyes met, Myeonggwi realized it.

‘This is not someone I can handle.’

On the other hand, Hwang Pa, feeling ignored, roared furiously.

"You bastard, who the hell are you?"

Geom Muyang placed the Blitz Blade down on the table and asked,

"Who were you planning to kill with the weapon you bought from us?"

Hwang Pa, who had been frozen for a moment, suddenly shot up to his feet.

"The Demonic Cult!"

His outburst revealed that he had known all along the item he was trying to buy was a hidden weapon from the Demonic Cult.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Then, Geom Muyang spoke, his words cold as ice.

"Sit. Don’t talk down to me from above."

At that moment, Geom Muyang released a killing aura that was on a completely different level from what he had shown earlier. The chilling cold in his eyes made Hwang Pa feel suffocated.

‘If he’d wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t have bothered with a disguise in the first place, right?’

Judging that it would be in his favor to act tough, Hwang Pa tried to regain control.

"You think I’d fear the Demonic Cult…?"

Smack!

Hwang Pa’s head whipped violently to the side. He hadn’t even seen it coming—Geom Muyang’s fist had crashed into his face.

Srrrng!

At that moment, Myeonggwi drew his sword.

"Don’t."

With a single word from Geom Muyang, Myeonggwi’s body froze. A powerful demonic energy weighed him down, locking him in place.

Hwang Pa spat out broken teeth and shouted,

"Kill this bastard!"

Demonic Cult or not, he couldn’t hold back his fury.

The next moment, Hwang Pa’s body soared through the air. Geom Muyang had hurled him toward the door.

Crash!

Hwang Pa, who had crashed through the door and rolled across the courtyard, shot up and yelled. This time, he shouted toward the subordinates filling the yard.

“Kill that bastard!”

But no one moved.

“What the hell are you doing, you bastards?!”

In that moment, Hwang Pa flinched. He had assumed they were his men, but unfamiliar martial artists were staring back at him.

They were none other than Branch Leader Ho Myeong and the elite members of the Changsha Branch.

Behind them, his own subordinates were kneeling on the ground. A few who had charged in without recognizing the enemy had been beaten so badly that their faces were now unrecognizable.

The Black Hand Faction might be a dominant black faction in Honam, but how could they stand against a branch leader of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult and his elite subordinates?

Upon seeing Hwang Pa, one of his subordinates instinctively tried to leap forward.

Puuk!

One of the branch’s martial artists standing behind him casually drove a sword through his neck.

As he collapsed, spewing blood, the remaining martial artists of the Black Hand Faction simultaneously lowered their heads. They had lived without a care in the world, thinking nothing could scare them. In the market streets, people wouldn’t even make eye contact with them—yet today, they had met their true match.

Even in such a situation, Hwang Pa gritted his teeth.

“So what if you’re from the Demonic Cult?! Kill me! Let’s see you try killing Hwang Pa in Honam! You think the Unorthodox Alliance will sit quietly if you lay a finger on us?!”

If they truly intended to kill him, they would have done it already. With only that belief, he clung to his defiance. With his subordinates watching, he acted even tougher.

As Hwang Pa raged and ranted, Geom Muyang looked at him with cold eyes before turning his head toward Myeonggwi.

“I heard you lost your family to some wanderers.”

Myeonggwi flinched as Geom Muyang suddenly brought that up. In other words, they had investigated him beforehand.

“When we looked into it…”

At that moment, Hwang Pa shouted, cutting Geom Muyang off.

“What do you want?!”