Chapter 945

Grrk. Krrk.

What should I call that?

A groan? Or a roar?

Whatever it was, one thing was certain.

The burly man slowly rising to his feet was moving farther and farther away from the word ordinary.

“Who is that…?”

Namgung Ryong studied him with a questioning look.

He had no way of knowing. Before Namgung Ryong arrived, the man had happened upon Jeok Cheongang, attacked him without knowing what he was getting into, and been knocked unconscious with a single punch.

“He’s a bandit.”

“A bandit?”

“Yes. And he’s the head of the bunch.”

I tapped the top of my head. Namgung Ryong caught my meaning at once and nodded.

“I can see why that man was acting like their leader.”

His gaze grew more intent as he studied the man.

“Though I don’t know if an ordinary bandit chief could look like that.”

Ssshhh.

Hot breath spread through the air.

The man exhaled vapor through his clenched teeth. I stared at him—or, more precisely, at the translucent holographic window that had just appeared above his head.

System Lv. 60 Jang Sam

A painfully common name. A face that looked like a bandit at a glance.

But the change that had come over him in those few moments was unmistakable.

It wasn’t just the whites of his eyes or the hot breath pouring from his mouth. The number before his name proved it.

His Level… went up.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time I’d seen someone’s Level change.

Masters who had reached the realm of Returning to Simplicity, or something close to it, could control their qi freely. Even Qi Sense couldn’t accurately read their Level.

But this bandit chief was different.

He wasn’t a master of Returning to Simplicity, nor had he gained enlightenment and raised his Level that way.

And people don’t jump twenty Levels all at once.

A backwater bandit chief who’d been only Level 40 had suddenly leaped up twenty steps.

How was I supposed to make sense of that?

“This is way beyond anything I know. Care to explain?”

The moment I asked—

Whoosh.

A huge fist came down over my head with a heavy whistle.

Crash!

One step. I’d barely shifted to the side when the ground caved in, sending grass and dirt flying.

He could never have struck with that kind of force before he passed out.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Somehow, he’d acquired a considerable amount of internal energy, too.

He’s completely lost it.

I’d suspected as much from the whites of his eyes, but he’d all but lost his reason. Maybe he hadn’t even woken up of his own accord.

A man in his right mind wouldn’t attack me here unless he had a death wish.

“Raaaagh!”

“…Well, then.”

There was no helping it.

As he charged at me like a wild beast again, I slipped in close and gently extended my hand.

Tap.

My palm touched his chest.

At the same time, a faint heat—one I’d worked hard to suppress, over and over—burst out through my palm.

Boom!

With a sound like compressed air exploding, his eight-cheok¹ frame shot away like a cannonball and slammed into a tree.

Kraaaash!

Beyond the thick cloud of dust, I grabbed his motionless body with one hand and dragged him back. The bandits’ eyes widened.

“We’re short on time, so I’ll keep this brief.”

As they stared in shock and fear, I went on in a low voice.

“Tell me everything you know. If you want to live.”

Every man lives with some dream tucked away in a corner of his heart.

It might be a red sports car with a price tag of a hundred million won,² or a study that practically reeks of professional success.

I was no different.

As a teenager, I dreamed of owning a motorcycle. I wanted to put my girlfriend on the back and open it up.

Of course, I didn’t know then that ten years later, I’d still have no girlfriend.

Or that instead of straddling a sleek motorcycle or a red convertible, I’d be riding an eco-friendly, four-wheel-drive thoroughbred and saying this to a man:

“Hold my waist tight, you bastard. You want to fall off the saddle?”

“Y-Yes!”

“But don’t grab too hard. If you pinch me, you’ll die.”

“Eek! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Thud-thud-thud!

The thunder of hooves mingled with a tearful voice.

Maybe Namgung Ryong and the authorities had already made arrangements, because nothing got in the way of us as we rode nonstop at full speed.

Only one thing bothered me: the guy behind me wouldn’t stop sniffling.

“So, Jangquines.”³

“…Yes.”

Jang Il answered, sounding half resigned. He was the bandit who’d pretended to be a woodcutter who’d lost his carrying frame until I’d caught him at his real trade.

He’d been a bandit for more than ten years. He was at the bottom of the pecking order, but there was one thing that set him apart from the others.

“You’ve known that guy for ten years?”

“Yes. I’ve known him since I first got into this line of work. For a while, we were like blood brothers.”

“Brothers, my ass. You’re a bandit. What a load of bullshit.”

Jeok Cheongang had been listening as he rode beside us. At his candid opinion, the Bow Saint frowned and clicked her tongue softly.

“Stay out of it and let him finish.”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk to myself anymore?”

“You really haven’t changed. Apart from losing your hair, you’re just like you were back then…”

“Have you quite finished?”

Jeok Cheongang’s gaze turned icy. Lately, his hair had been slowly sprouting like shoots in spring, and he’d been tending to it with loving care. He made no attempt to hide his anger.

“That’s enough, you two. You, keep talking.”

Even as the two Supreme Peak masters exchanged cold looks, the horses kept running. Jang Il swallowed hard and continued.

“A-Anyway, I followed the chief from then until now. When he said we were moving the stronghold to Anhui Province, everyone called him crazy and left, but I followed him on nothing but faith and loyalty.”

“You moved the stronghold to Anhui Province?”

“Yes. We were near Hubei before, but one day the chief suddenly decided we were moving. Everyone was dead set against it.”

Jang Il smacked his lips, as if remembering the day, then went on.

“Truth be told, I didn’t say anything, but I was thinking of quitting this life and leaving before it was too late.”

“Why? Was moving the stronghold that big a deal?”

“Oh, you don’t understand. Packing up and going is only a bit of work. The problem is, Anhui has the Namgung Family.”

I frowned. Even at a glance, what Jang Il was saying didn’t quite make sense.

“That’s no reason. Wudang and the Zhuge Clan were in Hubei, where you were before.”

Jang Il immediately shook his head.

“It’s not about how many great sects there are. It’s about which ones are nearby.”

“Oh.”

“Wudang and the Zhuge Clan are relatively mild. Most of the time, they settle things without bloodshed. But the Namgung Family…”

Jang Il trailed off and shuddered.

“Maybe that’s why the martial artists of Anhui don’t show any mercy, either. If things go wrong, you’d better be ready to lose your head.”

It was so ridiculous I could hardly believe it.

Bandits, carefully weighing up which martial artists might come after them.

But there was something strange about the chief’s choice all the same. As if the Namgung Family weren’t enough, he’d set up his stronghold on the border between Anhui and Zhejiang, close to the Imperial Capital.

“When did you move the stronghold?”

“Probably… three months ago? Around then.”

“What about the other bandits? It sounds like everyone from your old stronghold ran off.”

“They say a pine caterpillar should stick to pine needles, but when we got here, we found some bold bastards playing bandit in Anhui without even belonging to the Green Forest Alliance.”

“So your chief brought them under his command?”

“That’s right. One day, he left me behind and went off alone. He came back having absorbed two small strongholds.”

Jang Il added sadly, “And here I am, still at the bottom of the pecking order.”

I had no interest in an aging bandit’s complaints. As the wind brushed through my hair, I thought, Even if they were small, he took over two strongholds all by himself?

Of course that was bullshit.

Before his Level went up, the man had been no more than a middling Second Rate fighter, relying on some tiny amount of internal energy—who knew how he’d built it up—and his natural strength.

At best, he was on the threshold of First Rate. That wouldn’t be nearly enough.

You had to be somewhere around Supreme First Rate before you could even talk about having a chance against dozens of people at once. And that was assuming your opponents were at least a notch below you.

“So he had something to fall back on after all.”

“Pardon?”

“The man you followed as chief. He wasn’t that strong, was he? What gave him the confidence to move to Anhui and bring two strongholds together?”

“Well…”

Jang Il hesitated, then nodded.

“I found it strange myself. He was strong by my standards, but his martial arts weren’t anything special…”

Anywhere under Heaven, a bandit who made a name for himself in his region eventually had two choices.

He could trust in his decent martial arts and swagger around until disciples of a great sect came to wipe him out, or he could join the Green Forest Alliance.

For river bandits, it was the Yangtze River Channel League.

No neighborhood shop could beat a corporation.

Become an officially recognized franchisee of the Green Forest Alliance, and you’d have to pay substantial taxes. But as long as you didn’t openly commit atrocities, you could avoid being hunted down by the great sects.

You went from being a mere bandit to part of a symbiotic system that at least followed a few basic rules.

But that man fit neither category.

After ten years without making a name for himself, he’d set up a stronghold within spitting distance of Zhejiang Province, where the Imperial Capital stood.

Even if he hoped to make a killing around the Double Ninth Festival,⁴ it made no sense.

Neither did the way he’d suddenly grown so much stronger.

You couldn’t even call this a fortuitous encounter.

Together, those strange events brought back a memory from more than a year ago.

Pung Yang. Pung Yang, the Red Wind Band Leader.

The leader of the mounted bandits who’d set his sights on the Mount Heng Sword Sect—no, on Shanxi Province.

And the one item that had given him such grand ambitions.

The Temporary Strength Pill…!