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Chapter 11 : Follow Only the Family (1)
Chapter 11 - Follow Only the Family (1)
My whole body trembled.
I wanted to collapse and take a nap right then and there. I thought I should probably do something called stopping the bleeding, but since I didn't know how, I decided to leave it be.
Here, I had no choice but to trust in the power possessed by the Hebei Peng Clan's body.
I forced my dimming eyes open and examined the situation before me.
Ŵ е̂ bn о̆ v е.l̀ Е̇ n̊ū m а
“However, unlike you, I will not give you a choice.”
Grandfather walked over slowly, looking at the old man with dry eyes. Watching that figure, I thought.
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That old man was a master of some pseudo-religion other than the Demonic Cult. Judging by his actions and words, he was at least a master who had reached the Peak Realm.
Such a master lost an arm at a single gesture from Grandfather. Looking at his expression, it seemed he had lost his fighting spirit as well.
The emotion I felt looking at that old man, that old man was feeling looking at Grandfather.
‘I want to become like that.’
É n u m̈а
Since I’ve opened my eyes in Murim, I want to become a figure like that.
The figure of an absolute being who encompassed all worldly matters according to his will was right before my eyes.
It was dazzling. This was not simple admiration.
‘Like that.’
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It was greed. So desperate that I had never felt it in my entire life, including my past life.
The greed to want to possess that power, stand in that position, and live like that.
Ё ň ŭmа. і d
Something I had never even thought of in the life where I drank heavily because I couldn't get a job and slept in a cheap studio apartment.
The greed flowing in the body of the Hebei Peng Clan, in this bloodline, was burning.
The Hebei Peng Clan was a family of those who were always honest about their desires and threw themselves unsparingly for the sake of those desires. You could call it ambition, or you could call it wild ambition.
That was exactly the first thing one heard when learning the history of this family.
The Founder, Peng Dan-san, burned down the Library of the Songshan Shaolin Temple 200 years ago, stole the original copy of the Five Tiger Gate Severing Blade, and founded the Peng Clan.
The Fourth Ancestor subjugated the Unorthodox sects rampant around the Yellow River and solidified the foundation of the Dragon Slaughter League.
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The Third Ancestor founded the Black Way Sima Alliance, rallied the Unorthodox Murim, waged the Great War of Orthodox and Unorthodox, and crossed the mountain gate of the Zhongnan Sect.
They all burned their lives faithfully to their own desires, and the lowest seat of the direct lineage where all that bloodline continued most strongly was none other than me.
“We…… what the Main Cult wanted was only that one wench.”
“It did not seem like that.”
Grandfather's gaze touched me for a brief moment. In that instant, I felt a powerful internal energy tapping my body without any movement. Just with that, the blood flowing from the wounds all over my body was stopped.
The old man bit his lip and shouted at Grandfather.
Ĕ nû m а̀
“If you wish for an apology for this matter, I will commit suicide! However, that wench must be handed over to the Main Cult.”
“There is no value in your neck.”
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“Peng Family Head. Please reconsider. Do you truly desire confrontation with the Main Cult? Do you mean to say you do not fear the Cult Leader?”
At those words, the Elders surrounding them all smirked in unison. However, no smile appeared on Grandfather's lips. He asked back with his usual face, meaning a face dry to the point of bleakness.
“Then did you mean to say you did not fear me?”
“Th…… That is……!”
W ẽ b n̈о v̇е l Е ňu m̀ а̃.
Slice.
That was the last of it. I could only notice Grandfather's hand moving after the blade tip had stopped.
The old man's neck caught in that trajectory floated up futilely, then rolled on the floor spurting blood.
Watching a headless corpse collapse, and only after checking even Hwa-yeong beyond it, did my tension release.
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Watching Grandfather turn his body toward me, I could finally kneel and collapse.
Since I worked really hard for a seven-year-old.
Eṅ u m_ä .іd̈
Let's rest just a little today.
The world was dyed dark in an instant.
……
“There are no fatal injuries to the tendons or acupoints.”
The Elder said while quickly tending to Peng Hyeon-hwi's collapsing body. Although stab wounds remained here and there on the skin, there were no fatal injuries to the acupoints or tendons.
It was fortunate. The Elder sighed deeply and looked at the Family Head.
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The Peng Family Head was not looking that way. He was looking at the slaughtered corpses scattered all over the pavilion with a gleam rising in his eyes.
“He killed them with the Primordial Chaos Blade.”
“Pardon? Ah, yes.”
“Not even a proper Primordial Chaos Blade, but just borrowing the form…… as if clumsily imitating a martial art he only watched being demonstrated without learning.”
“Yes.”
“This rascal killed them. A rascal who just learned the Primordial Chaos Art and Mountain Ruler Step used the Iron Breaking Hammer and Primordial Chaos Blade and killed fully grown martial artists.”
Е nu m̌а̃ .і̌ d̄
As Peng Ik-jin extended his hand, Peng Hyeon-hwi's body lifted by itself. Slowly, flying in a gentle trajectory, Peng Hyeon-hwi's body was embraced in the Family Head's arms.
A seven-year-old body. A small and light boy. Little breathing sounds one had to strain their ears to hear.
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The Family Head, having examined his body once, hardened his expression for a moment and placed his hand on the child's head.
Only after retracing the child's condition delicately a few times, which was unusual for him.
The smile on the Family Head's lips deepened.
“Peng Jeon-gun.”
Е n̊ü m̀ å
“Yes, Family Head.”
“Your words were correct. He was indeed a talent quite regrettable to give away.”
“……Yes, Family Head.”
“Since I came to this spot thanks to your quick wits, it is no different from you saving this rascal. Speak what you desire.”
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“I hope the Young Master…… learns the martial arts of the direct lineage.”
To Peng Jeon-gun who bowed his head while prostrated, the Family Head laughed coldly and shook his head.
Еn ǔm̌ а
“You overstep your bounds.”
“Pardon……?”
“This is something this rascal achieved himself, separate from your merit. I will bestow a different reward upon you, so do not commit any further rudeness.”
“Yes, yes, Family Head.”
As Peng Jeon-gun stepped back, the Family Head's expression hardened coldly. He looked down at the corpse of the old man whose neck was cut.
“The Avatamsaka White Lotus Sect…… he is one of the Elders of the White Lotus Cult. He is called the Sword Blood Ghost Demon Jang Wol-sang, and is known as a figure who betrayed the Ghost Gate Vessel and threw himself into the White Lotus Cult. The Ghost Gate Vessel will be pleased.”
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The Family Head shook his head briefly at the words of the Elder who was examining the old man's severed head.
He turned his back and headed for the street. On the roadside where the sun was setting, the martial artists of the Peng Clan were lined up waiting for him.
Red sleeves on black martial arts robes.
Those red sleeves signify the blood the Peng Clan has shed over the past 200 years and the blood that flowed because of the Peng Clan.
It symbolizes the power of a family that stood atop all those blood debts, a family that survived even carrying all those grudges.
In front of them, in front of the prostrated martial artists of the Peng Clan, the Family Head's voice flowed.
Еñü.m̃ а . і̂ d
“Speak our Family Motto.”
““Only Follow the Family.””
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“Yes, follow only the family. Our law is only the Family Law, and our loyalty is directed only towards the family.”
The Family Head walks. Through the naturally parted martial artists.
While cherishingly holding the injured small child.
“If one is a clansman of the Peng Clan, even if they are at the very end of the collateral line, if that guy inherited the family name, if our blood flows in him, we must protect him no matter who it is.”
Èn̈ u m̂ ӓ . і̇ d̊
That is the Family Law. The most powerful law of this family.
If a clansman of the Peng Clan sheds even a single drop of blood, that blood price must be collected with a life.
That was the method for the Peng Clan to survive in this land facing North China and Beijing.
Even if the whole world becomes an enemy, so that they dare not even think of touching a clansman of the Peng Clan.
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By trampling thoroughly and cruelly.
Replacing warnings with that violent and merciless action. So that never again, no one, can touch a clansman of the Peng Clan.
Ẃ е.b̆ n̆ оvé l Е̃ n um а̊
So how much more for a direct lineage.
“Do what you are good at.”
At the Family Head's words, the martial artists' heads lift.
All of the Peng Clan martial artists lined up in this spot were looking into the Family Head's eyes and chewing on every single word.
“Smash, kill, burn, and hang their severed heads. If anything is related to this matter, burn it away without leaving even a piece of grass root, and make that fact known to the whole world. Raise the family flag in all those events. Make even the blind see, and make even the deaf hear our name.”
There were no passersby around here. The street where countless people usually came and went was submerged in silence at this very moment.
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Commoners avoided the place where the Peng Clan's martial artists gathered, other martial artists were crushed by the Peng Family Head's spirit, and even the Imperial Army and the Aristocrats struggled to ignore the turmoil on the street.
Amidst that, the Peng Family Head's voice pierced the suffocating silence and was conveyed to the retainers.
“If they are connected to the White Lotus Cult, those mongrels, do not show mercy. Until they can no longer endure. Push and provoke them until they can no longer bear it. Slaughter them so that they have no choice but to reveal their dull bodies finally.”
At the end of the street, in front of the huge gate tower of Guang'an Gate, stood the four-horse carriage of the Hebei Peng Clan.
Walking up to it, the Peng Family Head turned his head and looked at the lined-up retainers of the Peng Clan.
“Bring the White Lotus Cult Leader to me.”
Е́n̄úm̊а̌
There is no Lightness Art in the Peng Clan's footwork.
They do not learn techniques to run away, nor to run and chase.
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Inducing the opponent to come. To reach within the Peng Clan's distance.
Only walking slowly, proudly, and without obstruction.
The Family Head demanded the White Lotus Cult Leader's neck as the price for today's events.
And that was exactly how it would be.
Ѐ ńum̆ á . і̇_d̊
……
Ah, a familiar ceiling.
I blinked blankly and looked at the ceiling. The texture of the blanket and the shape of the ceiling were familiar. Fortunately, it seemed I hadn't died.
I opened my eyes perfectly fine in the bedroom of Young Tiger Hall. It hurt like hell, but anyway, it didn't seem like my limbs had fallen off.
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I struggled to move my cracked throat and spoke.
“Nang-rang…… Nang-rang? How long have I been out?”
Е̊ n̂um̀ ӓ . і d̆
“Ten days.”
The voice came from above my head. It was not Nang-rang's, but an old man's voice.
At that moment, goosebumps broke out all over me.
It resembled the voice I heard right before fainting too much, but it would be trouble if the owner of that voice was found in Young Tiger Hall.
I struggled to ignore my creaking body and turned my head.
“I did not know I would end up spending ten days on a mere blood clot.”
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“Grandfather……?”
The Family Head was sitting at the writing table reading a book.
The ‘Book of Rites’, the classic I was transcribing for the last time before I left, was held in his hand.
“Do you not know that an old man's time is more precious than a young man's?”
“Uh…… That is……. Yes, yes.”
As soon as I opened my eyes, the Number One Person of the Unorthodox Faction was looking down at me and attempting small talk.
W ē b̀ n̄ о̆v̂ е́ l̆ Е́ṅ ŭm ӓ
With a benevolent smiling face I was seeing for the first time in my life.
“H..Huh?”
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This kind of situation was not in my expectations.
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