The Invincible Commander – Chapter 4

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HwasanSect

[Translator: Chyluck]

[Proofreader: Chyluck]

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Chapter 4

“Hey, Young Master Cheon.”

The moment Sohyang called out, Cheon Sinwoo vanished like a bolt of lightning.

“Haa, what’s with him?”

Sohyang sighed, watching him disappear before her eyes.

The past few days had been a game of hide-and-seek since he declared himself her servant.

He was so fast.

Was it because he was a hunter?

His movements weren’t ordinary.

It made talking to him impossible.

The second she tried, he bolted.

Sohyang stared at the roasted meat.

Seeing the pile of dry branches stacked for firewood in the courtyard, she let out another sigh.

“He’s gone again?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s kinda fun, isn’t he?”

“Fun?”

“Like some kind of folk-tale helper, not a fairy wife but a fairy husband.”

Sohyang couldn’t help but let out a wry chuckle at Chang’s comparison.

Kids and their innocence.

Her son’s pure-hearted view of people was just adorable.

“No idea what kind of man he is,” she said, shaking her head.

Chang glanced at the roof with a grin.

“Let’s eat first. He went through all that effort.”

“Alright.”

She nodded at her son’s words.

Her days were packed.

She had to pick up sewing jobs, so she couldn’t linger in thought forever.

“Phew.”

Up on the roof, Cheon Sinwoo finally let out a breath of relief.

This was the way.

Until she got used to him.

If he kept at it, she’d eventually accept him.

When it came to patience, he was second to none.

Hadn’t he thrown tens of thousands of punches when he first learned martial arts?

“Speaking of, this roof’s a mess…”

His face scrunched up.

When was the last time it was fixed? Tiles were missing here and there.

It wouldn’t even keep out the rain like this.

“Hmm, looks like the manor needs fixing first…”

He’d have to spend the money from hunting sooner than planned.

If young Chang caught a cold living in a leaky house, what then?

Already skinny from hunger, getting sick would be worse.

“No choice. School will have to wait.”

Descending the roof, Cheon Sinwoo headed straight for the village.

He needed to find someone to fix the roof.

“How much?”

“To fix the Seoga manor’s roof? At least a hundred silver taels.”

“A hundred silver taels?”

“Yup.”

The words came from an older carpenter.

Cheon Sinwoo wanted to grab him by the collar and glare.

This guy!

Think I’m a sucker?

Spouting lies like that!

…That’s what he would’ve said.

In the old days.

But he’d sworn to live virtuously.

No more being pointed at.

They say parents are a child’s mirror, don’t they?

“Ha, you’re joking, right, sir?”

Cheon Sinwoo forced a laugh, holding back, but the old carpenter snorted.

“Joking? You think the Seoga manor’s tiles are ordinary? That place was the top family in Jeongyang back in the day. A hundred taels is a bargain. You know how much prices have gone up.”

Damn inflation.

No wonder common folk struggled.

A hundred taels? The money from the wolf hunt wouldn’t even come close.

“What about cheaper tiles?”

“Still fifty taels, at least. The whole roof needs replacing.”

“Can’t you just patch the missing spots?”

“No way. Tiles have to match. If they don’t, it’s as good as not fixing it.”

“Then just the part where people sleep?”

“Twenty taels.”

“What?”

“That’s how it works. Buy in bulk, it’s cheaper. Buy a little, it’s expensive. No tile kilns in Jeongyang. You gotta go to Taiyuan’s outskirts to get them.”

“…”

“And labor’s the same. Who’s gonna work for just a day or two? You pay more for short jobs.”

Cheon Sinwoo’s cheeks twitched as he fought to keep his temper.

This damn carpenter…

In the old days, he’d have burned this shop down.

He’d really reformed.

Holding it in was a miracle in itself.

“So, twenty taels will do it?”

“Yeah, but it’ll look awful.”

“…”

“A fine manor with quality tiles, and you patch one section with cheap stuff?”

The carpenter clicked his tongue, then tilted his head.

“Hold on, who are you?”

Took him long enough to ask.

“I thought only Lady Sohyang and the young master lived there. Who’re you to worry about their roof?”

“I’m their servant.”

“They had a servant like you?”

“Started serving the lady and young master recently.”

“Huh, that’s something. Thought they couldn’t afford wages… Anyway, off you go. Even one section will cost twenty taels to get started.”

The carpenter waved him off and disappeared into the shop.

Even a once-prominent family like Seoga got treated this coldly.

Guess the old master wasn’t one for generosity.

No wonder people were so harsh.

But who could he blame?

Dejected, Cheon Sinwoo sighed with every step.

Where was he supposed to get twenty taels?

Truth was, he’d never properly earned money.

He’d worked exactly once in his life.

To pay for martial arts school.

And he’d nearly killed himself scraping together two taels for a year’s fees.

After that, money came easy.

Once he crushed the back-alley thugs and took over as boss, coins rolled in.

All he had to do was rough someone up now and then.

“What, this all you got?”

One word, and his underlings would shake down inns, taverns, and shops, collecting “taxes.”

Most of it went to the boss.

And that wasn’t all.

Gambling dens, loan sharks, smuggling.

Plenty of ways to make money.

Problem was, he’d sworn off that life.

Vowed and vowed again to live virtuously.

Sohyang worked odd jobs to help others, ensuring Chang wouldn’t be called a villain’s son. How could he, as a father, do bad things?

“…Maybe just a little? Robbing some thugs wouldn’t hurt, right? Bet there’s plenty of those in Jeongyang’s back alleys. If I wear a mask, maybe it’s fine.”

But he shook his head.

What would he say if Sohyang asked where the money came from?

With her character, she’d lose it.

He needed something legit.

Something she’d accept.

“Haa, should I go shovel manure somewhere?”

They say you think as much as you know and experience.

The best-paying job he could think of was that.

Glumly, he stared at a nearby inn.

Crash!

“You damn bastard! What? You can’t pay?”

“No, no, it’s not that! Business was just bad yesterday…”

“Bullshit. Get the cash box, now!”

Familiar scene.

Old memories flooded back.

Lucky boss.

Got himself some capable goons.

For a moment, Cheon Sinwoo wanted to tail those thugs, snatch the money they collected.

Evil thoughts kept creeping in, making him shake his head in frustration.

That’s when he heard it.

“Those damn bastards are at it again.”

“No kidding. They act like they own the place.”

“Miss the old days. When the Seoga family was around, we didn’t have these punks.”

“That’s over ten years ago…”

His ears perked up at the merchants’ hushed conversation nearby.

“Hey.”

“Whoa!”

The merchants jumped, startled, as Cheon Sinwoo called out.

They eyed him up and down, relaxing only slightly before shouting.

“You scared us!”

Straight to informal speech.

Fair enough, given his appearance.

Possessed into a vagrant’s body, his clothes torn from hunting, he looked like a beggar.

No wonder they talked down to him.

Not the time to fuss about judging by looks.

“Let me ask you something.”

“What?”

“About what you just said. That things weren’t like this when the Seoga family was around.”

“So what?”

“Sounds like the Seoga family had a lot of influence back then?”

“Of course. When the old master was alive, would punks like that even dare set foot in Jeongyang? They were a family that even eyed Taiyuan.”

“Hmm.”

To Cheon Sinwoo, Taiyuan or Jeongyang were all the same, but it meant they kept the peace.

Made sense for martial families.

They saw thugs in their territory as a disgrace.

He’d faced plenty of warriors coming to “cleanse” him as a thug.

Most got beaten and sent packing, though…

Thinking about it, it’s almost funny.

Thugs might’ve been excessive, but how were those high-and-mighty martial families any different?

Sure, keeping the peace was partly about pride, but they still took “protection fees” under fancy names.

Yet thugs were bad, and they were good…

“Hey!”

“What’s with you, calling out like that?”

“About the Seoga family.”

“What about them?”

“Did they ever take, like, contributions or fees?”

“Contributions?”

The merchant tilted his head.

“Did they… take any?”

“Hey! Don’t talk nonsense! What kind of man was the Seoga master to take fees?”

“They didn’t?”

“Of course not!”

Hopes dashed.

He’d thought maybe he could make money under the Seoga name.

Master, you were too damn honest.

Why live so upright?

Could’ve been a bit less virtuous.

If you worked, you should’ve taken payment.

Guess that bloodline produced someone as kind as Sohyang.

But then, he’d killed that father, so it made sense she killed him.

Must’ve hurt a lot.

Feeling glum, the merchants spoke up.

“They refused so much, we merchants went to them, begging them not to reject our goodwill.”

“Oh, right.”

“Of course. What kind of man was the master to ask for our money?”

“Yeah… I remember now. Such a good man, taken by that villain. Poor Lady Sohyang. Just her.”

Cheon Sinwoo couldn’t help but scoff.

Then why not help her?

Knowing she’s struggling, and you’ve done nothing…

Wait a second.

Maybe it’s because he’d started turning the rusty millstone of thought again?

A cunning idea sparked.

This could work.

Even that upright master took contributions, right?

They offer it willingly—no harm in that.

Thugs are bad.

Punish them, you’re good.

And the merchants’ nostalgia for the Seoga family.

That’s enough.

Of course, it wouldn’t be free.

Guess his name fit—divine intervention, indeed.

“No way, this money won’t do!”

“Shut it! You’re hoarding cash and pretending you don’t have it?”

The thug shoved the innkeeper roughly.

The innkeeper stumbled, about to hit the floor.

Thud.

“Huh?”

When the expected fall didn’t happen, both the innkeeper and the thug looked puzzled.

“Oi, look at this guy. Causing trouble while people are passing by?”

“…”

“Haa, starting a fight like this, I can’t just ignore it. My wrist’s hurting—guess I’ll need some medical fees.”

Cheon Sinwoo, holding up the innkeeper, rubbed his wrist with a fake wince.

Blatantly acting hurt.

The thug stared, dumbfounded.

Medical fees?

What kind of nonsense was this?

And he’s grinning?

Unbelievable.

The thug was Eungchil, a goon from the Huangdu Gang, who ruled Jeongyang’s back alleys.

“Hey, didn’t you hear? My wrist’s killing me. Gotta get it treated.”

Cheon Sinwoo wiggled his wrist for show.

Standing cockily, one leg forward.

The picture of a street punk.

Same kind of troublemaking.

No word of a new gang, though.

But the guy looked like a beggar.

The thug’s wariness faded, replaced by a sneer.

“Never seen such a crazy bastard.”

At Eungchil’s words, the two other thugs with him sized Che湍Cheon Sinwoo up, laughing.

“Boss, looks like this guy ate something bad.”

“No kidding. Gotta be crazy to pick a fight with the Huangdu Gang.”

Chuckling, Eungchil stepped right up to Cheon Sinwoo’s face, glaring.

“You heatstroked or something?”

“Nope.”

“Some filthy stray dog—argh!”

Eungchil’s threat turned into a scream as he collapsed.

Cheon Sinwoo had lightly gripped his trapezius muscle.

He could’ve ripped it off, but he needed to look virtuous and just, so he squeezed just enough to make tears well up.

“Me? Just a stray dog rolling around for the Seoga family. Got a problem?”

This was Cheon Sinwoo’s plan, thought out carefully.

Reverse troublemaking.

The first step toward reviving the Seoga family.

Of course, it’d be a bit different from the late master’s methods.

And from Sohyang’s idea of goodness, too.