Chapter 854

Jang Il, a junior military officer in Hubei Province, knew how to be satisfied with his life.

Some people who knew him would click their tongues and say he had no ambition, despite being born a man. But Jang Il himself was proud of who he was.

I’ve done well enough. Damn right I have.

He’d been born into a commoner family with next to nothing, yet he’d risen to become an officer.

His low rank meant the government paid him a pittance, but what mattered was that he was one of the seven gate commanders in Yichang, a major city in western Hubei Province.

And what kind of place was Yichang?

A port city on the Yangtze, which ran across Hubei Province. Poets and scholars flocked there to admire its splendid scenery.

Countless people and goods passed through every day, and naturally, each gate collected hefty tolls.

There were also the little extras called bribes, which never found their way into reports to the higher-ups.

Wonder what big shots will come through today.

Jang Il rose early, eager to get ready for work.

He put on a silk robe with a lustrous sheen and belted on his finely decorated sword.

It stung a little that he couldn’t see himself in a mirror—they were far too expensive for him to buy—but his elderly servant offered some comfort.

“You truly have the bearing of a hero, my lord.”

“Ahem. You think so, too?”

“Yes, my lord. Whoever passes through the gate, none of them will dare raise their heads properly in the face of your authority.”

“Now, now. What a silly thing to say.”

For all his protests, the corners of Jang Il’s mouth twitched upward. The elderly servant laughed and waved a hand.

“When have you ever known me to flatter you? But you’re wearing your best silk robe and even carrying your sword today. Something important must be happening.”

“You’re always quick to catch on. Some real big shots might be coming through. A trading caravan that left for Chongqing about two months ago is due back around now.”

“Goodness. But haven’t things been getting strange around Chongqing lately?”

“Who told you that?”

“A traveling merchant I know. He said there’s been a bloodbath among martial artists, not just around Chongqing, but in Guangxi as well…”

“It’s all nonsense, so ignore it. I’ve heard a little about Guangxi myself, but Chongqing only has a few disorganized bandits and river pirates. This caravan is bound to bring in a fortune.”

Jang Il straightened his clothes and smiled with satisfaction.

Chongqing lay between Sichuan Province and Hubei Province. It wasn’t quite a province in its own right, but its abundant resources and local specialties had countless trading companies eager to do business there.

The profits were high, and so was the competition. The trading companies that won out were enormous.

Especially this caravan.

Three trading companies had joined forces. Between their guards and caravan porters, they’d brought a staggering five hundred people.

They’d loaded more than a hundred carts onto ten merchant ships and set out about two months ago. Jang Il couldn’t help looking forward to the little extras coming his way.

After everything it took to get this post, I ought to get something out of it.

The old saying “you reap what you sow” meant something entirely different to Jang Il.

He’d scattered a fortune in bribes to become a gate commander in Yichang. In less than two years, he’d collected more than he’d spent, but he had no intention of stopping there.

As long as I keep collecting like this, that’s plenty. No need to get greedy. Just enough to buy a respectable estate.

One greed was soon forgotten in pursuit of another.

Proud to be a conscientious official who was only moderately corrupt and moderately lazy, Jang Il left home.

The moment he arrived at his post at the West Gate, he realized something was wrong.

What is this?

The air felt taut.

The soldiers who would usually be standing around yawning with their arms folded were drenched in sweat and running in every direction. Bloodied stretchers and charred debris lay scattered about.

So did the three flags that had flown proudly when the caravan left for Chongqing two months ago.

“What on earth…”

“My lord! Officer Jang!”

The sudden call snapped Jang Il out of his daze.

A familiar subordinate stood before him, pale as a sheet.

“What—what happened here?”

“Th-that is…”

“Tell me the truth, now!”

The subordinate flinched at his superior’s sharp shout, then stammered out an answer.

As Jang Il listened to his rambling account, his mouth fell open.

“A-an attack?”

“Yes, my lord. They say the caravan was attacked by bandits on its way back.”

“That’s impossible! They had five hundred guards and caravan porters! What bandits would be mad enough to attack them?”

Just as his horrified shout rang out—

“The world’s gone mad. Why should bandits be any different?”

A weary voice cut in. Jang Il turned toward it and blinked.

“M-Master of the Trading Company?”

There was no mistaking him. Even drenched in blood, with his clothes reduced to rags, Jang Il recognized him at once.

He was one of the three trading company masters who had joined the caravan—the big shot Jang Il had been waiting for these past two months.

“Glad I survived to see you again, Officer Jang.”

“W-what on earth happened? Where are the other two?”

“They came with us. But we’ll never have the chance to speak again.”

Jang Il followed the man’s pointing finger and felt the world go dark.

Several dozen bodies lay wrapped in straw mats. Two had been set apart from the rest. It was all too clear who they were.

“…Surely not.”

“Just what you think. They fought bravely to the end, but there was nothing we could do. We were simply outnumbered.”

“Outnumbered? There were that many bandits?”

“Bandits and river pirates, to be precise. Even in the confusion of the ambush, I could tell. Men with harpoons were swarming everywhere.”

“R-river pirates? How could they…?”

“Whether they’re in the mountains or on the Yangtze, thieves make their living by thieving, don’t they?”

The trading company master muttered wearily and leaned against a shattered cart.

“Everything went smoothly when we left Yichang two months ago. But as soon as we reached Chongqing, I had a feeling something was wrong. Sure enough, we’d barely set foot on Yuhua Mountain when they appeared.”

Despite its beautiful scenery, Yuhua Mountain was known as one of Chongqing’s rugged mountains.

The trading company master remembered the moment they’d first encountered their enemies, hemmed in by narrow paths and dense brush. He shuddered before he could stop himself.

“We thought nothing could stand in our way. Each company had brought only its best men, and we’d hired dozens of renowned wandering martial artists in case of trouble. But the moment the attackers appeared, I knew none of that mattered.”

“How many were there?”

“A thousand.”

“Pardon?”

“I said a thousand. That was only what I could count at a glance. There must have been more.”

“…!”

For a moment, Jang Il thought he’d misheard.

A band of more than a thousand bandits? In the north, nomads or mounted bandits based on the grasslands sometimes joined forces and invaded with a large army. But not in Chongqing.

Something unprecedented had happened. Something that should never have happened.

“But haven’t things been getting strange around Chongqing lately?”

“Who told you that?”

“A traveling merchant I know. He said there’s been a bloodbath among martial artists, not just around Chongqing, but in Guangxi as well…”

Remembering the conversation he’d had with his elderly servant before leaving home, Jang Il felt his heart sink.

His cherished silk robe was damp with cold sweat, though he had no idea when he’d started sweating.

No way.

Chongqing was right next to Hubei. From Yichang, where he commanded a gate, it was three days by boat or five by land.

If—if all of this is true…

His hands and feet trembled. His breathing quickened.

He should’ve been on his feet, directing the soldiers and sounding the alarm, but his body wouldn’t move.

Whether he noticed Jang Il’s condition or not, the trading company master continued.

“We told them we’d pay the toll. Their answer was a volley of arrows.”

Someone died, and a fierce battle began.

The fighters trained by the trading companies and the hired wandering martial artists fought back. Even the caravan porters who had been hauling the carts joined in. But the river pirates and bandits, who’d spent their whole lives as raiders, cut them down without hesitation.

“It was less a battle than a slaughter. We had plenty of people, but half were caravan porters. The rest could only do so much.”

“But how? Weren’t most of those men slash-and-burn farmers or fishermen to begin with?”

“Probably. But there was something different about them. They kept charging at us like they were possessed.”

The trading company master had been speaking as calmly as he could, but now his voice began to shake.

“Even with their legs slashed or an arm gone, they kept coming. Knock one down, and three more came. Knock three down, and five more appeared. If we swallowed our fear and brought them down too, ten more were waiting. Again and again…”

The trading company master still remembered it clearly.

No—he would remember them until his dying breath.

They had charged like fiends bursting out of a hellscape.

“The battle ended decisively in just half a shichen—roughly an hour—and our side broke. Men started running in every direction. Surrounded by screams and death, I led my subordinates away, too. The caravan had failed, but we had to get out alive somehow.”

Nothing was more precious than life.

He had retreated with the other two trading company masters and the men they had left. By the time they emerged from Yuhua Mountain, their number had fallen from five hundred to half that.

“We kept running along the mountain foothills. For three whole days.”

“Th-three days?”

“We wanted to go down and ask the imperial troops or another Murim sect for help, but with those men watching, it was nearly impossible. Staying on the move was our best option.”

The enemy had been watching the main routes closely. The survivors, barely clinging to life, had made a break for Hubei along the shortest route and finally escaped Chongqing.

Or so they thought.

Then they came out of Yuhua Mountain and saw the ten merchant ships they’d left at the nearest dock burning.

“I was sure it was over. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about running anymore.”

The three-day pursuit had been brutal. From five hundred, they had fallen to half that. From that half, to fewer than a hundred. They thought of death as they watched their last hope—the merchant ships—sink amid dark red flames.

Behind them, the enemy shouted.

And just as their final battle was about to begin, people no one could have expected appeared.

“A middle-aged man. He had about ten people with him.”

“A middle-aged man…?”

“Yes. He walked toward us as if out for a stroll, pointed at the burning ships, and asked us this out of the blue.”

The trading company master steadied his breathing and continued.

“Which son of a bitch set those on fire?”