The Invincible Commander – Chapter 17

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HwasanSect

[Translator: Chyluck]

[Proofreader: Chyluck]

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Chapter 17

Cheon Sinwoo was deep in thought.

Twelve years old.

The perfect age to start learning martial arts.

Though it varied slightly, most people’s meridians began to solidify around then.

A typical martial clan, discovering their son’s prodigious talent, would eagerly train him.

But not him.

Life had taught him it was tough.

Whether evil, righteous, or demonic, it was the same.

Talent was great.

But effort was more precious.

Bone-grinding training was required.

Hitting the wall of enlightenment was agonizing.

Frustration and despair followed.

An insurmountable wall loomed, and pondering what lay beyond tormented life endlessly.

Watching lesser peers surpass you was worse.

Some, unable to endure, ended their lives.

Others, lacking the courage to die, accepted limits, groveling under others.

And that wasn’t all.

Even if not as intense, disputes among armed men often ended in death.

He couldn’t bring more pain to Sohyang.

How deeply she’d grieved her father’s death, coming to him with a false smile, hands bloodied, weeping.

It couldn’t happen.

There were happier paths.

He’d been happier in seclusion with Sohyang than as a martial artist.

Knowing this, he didn’t want to push Chang toward it.

No, he wanted to block that path if he could.

He believed in choosing one’s own life, but not for his child.

He wasn’t a sage, a monk, or a saint.

What mad parent would guide their child to a clearly grueling path?

“Hey, big brother.”

“…”

“It’s training time?”

“Ugh, not in the mood today.”

“What?”

“Go do some stamina drills alone.”

Cheon Sinwoo waved off Woosaeng’s cautious approach.

He didn’t want to do anything.

Yesterday’s visit.

Definitely interest.

Chang was surely curious about martial arts.

He wouldn’t show training anymore.

Like most kids his age, he’d wait until Chang’s interest shifted elsewhere.

What would work?

Something to divert his attention…

“What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

Lost in thought, he looked up as Sohyang, dressed to go out, tilted her head.

“Oh, just thinking. Where are you off to, my lady?”

“Yes, to a school.”

“A school? Didn’t you go yesterday?”

“Well…”

Sohyang gave a wry smile.

Jeongyang County had several schools teaching children.

Sohyang had visited them and returned disappointed.

If teaching, do it properly.

A renowned school was better, with distinguished scholars, close by… lunch at school, so how’s the food? What about the friends?

She’d asked around, seeking a good school.

She’d found one in Taiyuan, Shanxi’s capital: Yunhak Academy.

Built by a retired Grand Scholar, Hyeong Mun-bo, to nurture talent, with illustrious teachers, and so on.

Her serious explanation gave Cheon Sinwoo a headache.

Aren’t all schools the same?

Learn to read, why fuss over details?

Mothers had more to consider than fathers, he thought.

At least for schools.

But!

It was a perfect way to shift Chang’s focus.

Studying at school, mingling with peers, would lessen his martial arts interest.

Though their goals differed, aligning with Sohyang’s concern for Chang’s future, Cheon Sinwoo stood abruptly.

“Let’s go together.”

“What?”

“It’s risky going alone. Taiyuan’s half a day’s walk.”

“But I’ve always gone alone without issue.”

“No way. What if you meet bandits? Let’s go. I’ll escort you.”

“Bandits on the main road?”

She looked at him curiously but soon smiled and nodded.

“Alright, let’s go.”

With no preparations needed, Cheon Sinwoo followed her.

Matching her pace, she slowed to walk side by side.

When he looked puzzled, she smiled brightly.

“Let’s walk together.”

“But I’m your servant.”

“I’ve never thought that, and I won’t. I’m always grateful.”

“…”

“Side by side, always.”

Walking shoulder-to-shoulder, Cheon Sinwoo scratched his cheek awkwardly.

What started as concern for Chang felt like an outing, lifting his mood.

The sunlight was nice.

Was this their first time strolling together?

They’d only lived in the mountains.

Not bad.

More focused on the moment than Chang, Cheon Sinwoo walked slowly.

With the Huangdu Gang gone, the streets were peaceful.

Market merchants, free from protection fees, brimmed with energy.

Business felt better.

Passersby too.

Without the Huangdu Gang’s menacing swords, parents let kids roam freely.

Even bumping into someone, apologies were exchanged easily.

A stark contrast to recent times.

“Candy.”

A child tugged at her mother’s sleeve, eyes sparkling, as she sighed, handing over a coin.

“Buy it and come right back.”

“Okay!”

The child, clutching the coin, nodded happily and darted off.

“What a cute kid.”

“Yes.”

“It’s been ages since it’s been this calm. I wish it were always like this.”

A merchant selling combs and trinkets nodded to the woman’s words.

“Thanks to the Seoga manor.”

“Absolutely.”

“Didn’t the lady refuse the merchants’ tribute?”

“Her blood’s true. Her late father, killed by villains, was the same.”

“Ugh, we should’ve visited and helped sooner… how hard it must’ve been.”

Their talk turned to the Seoga manor.

A reflection of the city’s recent mood.

“I brought some trinkets for her, but she refused, and I was so flustered.”

“She’s truly kind.”

Praising the manor’s deeds, then—

“Ouch!”

The child, fixated on candy, bumped into something and fell.

A man in a wide, worn hat, bear-like in size.

His vest revealed hairy arms, scarred and tattooed.

“Kid, be careful. Running in the street’s dangerous.”

His deep voice and smile, as he bent down, made the child pale.

His rough look, with a massive blade slung across his back, was frightening.

“What are you doing?”

The woman, talking with the merchant, rushed over, shielding her child warily.

“Doing what? What’s that mean? Did I do something?”

“Oh, s-sorry.”

His thick brows furrowed, showing displeasure, and she swallowed, apologizing and fleeing.

The brief commotion drew hushed stares from nearby merchants.

“Tch.”

But as the burly man scratched his head and moved on, tension eased.

His appearance screamed trouble.

Sword and attire marked him a ronin.

They’d feared he’d cause a scene.

As the street regained its bustle, the man tilted his head curiously.

“Hm, was Jeongyang always like this?”

Odd.

He’d visited before, but it felt different.

People used to cower, groveling at the slightest conflict.

“Strange. Huangdu not paying tribute past the deadline too.”

His name was Bang Chun-man.

Unknown to common folk, but famed in northern Shanxi.

A member of the Wutaishan bandits, holding the rank of one of the Eight Heads.

Roughly equivalent to a martial clan’s squad leader.

He’d descended Wutaishan because of the Huangdu Gang.

After the Seoga manor’s fall, Huangdu took over Jeongyang’s backstreets and sought Wutaishan’s backing.

Though a small city, Jeongyang wasn’t tiny, and mere thugs needed a strong ally.

Even a few martial artists could crush them, so Wutaishan was a natural choice.

The bandits profited effortlessly.

Huangdu, knowing etiquette, sent a portion of collected taxes.

For years.

Always punctual.

A trustworthy guy.

The Wutaishan leader liked him, exchanging messages and encouragement.

But the tribute deadline passed.

Thinking it a one-time slip, they waited, but no word.

Absence of nothing is nothing, but absence of something strains ties.

Perhaps he’d found another backer…

Feeling slighted, the leader sent Bang to investigate.

If Huangdu had other ideas, a lesson was needed.

So, no messenger—Bang Chun-man, an Eight Head, came himself.

“Sending me with kids around. It’s damn hot.”

Irritated from the long trip, Bang planned to slap Huangdu a few times if it was minor.

But—

“Huh?”

Nothing where it should be.

“Odd. They should be here.”

No Huangdu or his gang in sight.

“Did they skip town?”

Unlikely.

The tribute was substantial.

Their own take must’ve been hefty.

Abandon that goldmine?

“Hmm.”

Scanning around, Bang grabbed a nearby beggar’s collar.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

The dozing beggar, hoisted up, yelped.

“What happened to the Huangdu Gang? They’re supposed to be here.”

“They’re done for.”

“Done?”

“Yes. Crushed by Young Master Cheon of the Seoga manor…”

“Seoga? Wasn’t it ruined?”

“They’ve reclaimed their place recently.”

“What? How? I heard they only had a daughter left.”

“There’s a formidable Young Master Cheon. He took down the Huangdu Gang single-handedly.”

The terrified beggar spilled all he knew.

“Hmm.”

Bang frowned.

Did the Seoga manor have such strength left?

He hadn’t cared about a fallen house.

After a moment’s thought, he asked the beggar again.

“Where’s the Seoga manor?”

Learning its location, his steps turned toward it.

He needed to investigate.

To report they might lose tribute.

“Damn, the boss’ll be pissed.”

Scratching his head, he reached the manor’s wall and peeked.

“Hm, under repair?”

Shabby for a fallen house, but the main pavilion’s roof was new.

A burly man, a kid, an old man.

“That guy’s Young Master Cheon?”

Plausible.

Looks alone, but he seemed strong.

No need to provoke danger.

Unsure of his skill, approaching recklessly could backfire, so he’d gather rumors first.

Then—

“Hey, who’s there?”