Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 1 - Stone Grave

Chapter 1 – Stone Grave

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Translated by Heavenly Cat

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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The bodies of the dead are heavy.

That was what Ju-seong thought as he carried the corpses of his troupe family.

Who would collect the bodies of street performers? He had no money to hire a mortician.

He had no choice but to do it himself.

He planned to bury the bodies by the roadside and build a stone cairn. That was the customary funeral for lowly wanderers.

Other acrobat troupes, merchants, beggars, and drifters would see this cairn whenever they passed by. They would place a stone on top of it, as if giving alms.

Would the souls of his family be comforted by such cheap gestures of sincerity?

‘Probably so.’

Ju-seong thought to himself. After all, both he and they were worthless lives of the streets.

The reason Ju-seong became someone who sold fake elixirs in an acrobat troupe was not because he was a lazy man who hated working up a sweat.

He was simply born into the troupe. Raised on the streets since birth, he had no other choice.

Eighteen years ago, an injured woman in the final stages of pregnancy was found by members of the Blue Flower Acrobatic Troupe. Of course, she was his mother.

His mother, whose face he never knew, passed away immediately after giving birth to him. After that, he was raised by clowns and dancers, musicians and acrobats.

According to Old Master Hwang, the troupe leader, on the night he was born, one star shone particularly red.

Thus, his name became Ju-seong. ‘Crimson’ for Ju, ‘Star’ for Seong.

Ju-seong recalled Old Master Hwang’s voice.

[Do you know how much I had to beg the women from house to house, you brat? As a man, my pride was utterly crushed. Tsk. And yet you ungrateful bastard…]

Just as he said, the troupe members raised him by begging for milk. When that did not go well, they would prick their fingers with needles and feed him the blood that seeped out.

Ju-seong smirked as he recalled Old Master Hwang’s nagging voice.

“You fed an infant blood that was probably full of alcohol. I should be thankful I did not die.”

Grumbling like that, he lifted Old Master Hwang’s body and lowered it into the pit. An old man should have been light, but strangely, he felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

In any case, Ju-seong was born with the constitution of a weed, so he somehow grew up even in such an environment. And he naturally became a clown.

They say the wind-swept martial world is full of tangled fates?

Once, he had hoped that he too had some secret of birth, or an untold story.

But contrary to his expectations, for over eighteen years, no head steward of a prestigious family, no master of a great merchant group, no warriors of the Imperial Guard ever came looking for him.

An injured woman in the final stages of pregnancy. It seemed like there should have been a secret story hidden there.

‘But there was not.’

In truth, if every orphan were hiding a secret of birth and a great lineage, how chaotic would the world be? An orphan worth nine pennies was just a leaf blown by the wind.

Born with the constitution of a weed.

That phrase was truly apt. His bones were strong and his movements agile. His body was light and he learned quickly, picking up difficult skills after watching them just once or twice.

Naturally, he took on the difficult and dangerous performances in the troupe. After the age of fourteen, it also became his job to step up and fight whenever thugs picked a quarrel.

Among his many skills, what he excelled at most was throwing flying daggers.

[How do you hit everything with such accuracy? You were born with talent, child.]

Those were the words of Du-hwa, the vice-leader.

“Elder Sister Du-hwa…”

Ju-seong quietly called her name. Though he called her “Elder Sister,” she was a woman more than twenty years his senior.

She was not a virtuous woman despite her age, so she did not care for Ju-seong like a mother would.

Still, she too was his family.

Her corpse, with disheveled clothes and a gaping slash across her throat.

After staring into her wide-open eyes for a long while, he slowly crouched down and straightened her clothes.

“If I had given the mortician some money, I could have sent you off with makeup and funeral garments. I am sorry, Elder Sister. I have another use for that money…”

Murmuring so, Ju-seong closed her eyes and lowered her body into the pit.

As Du-hwa had said, he had a talent for throwing flying daggers.

Any proper man of the martial world should know how to handle at least one hidden weapon.

When facing multiple enemies, when strategically retreating to fight another day, when cowardly disposing of an opponent too strong to handle…

After all, is this not the wind-swept martial world?

Of course, since he was not a man of the martial world, his flying dagger skills were only used to hit peaches placed on a troupe member’s head.

And while showing off this trick, he would sell cheap medicinal ingredients ground up and mixed with water as “elixirs that improve eyesight.”

His ambition arose around the age of fifteen. To throw flying daggers farther and stronger, he learned something called an “internal energy cultivation method.”

Naturally, it was something nearly impossible for ordinary people to learn, so those around him were busy trying to stop him.

-A caterpillar should eat pine needles. Are you trying to become a martial artist and make your debut in the martial world? Stop it, you clown. The sparrow will tear its legs trying to walk like a stork.

Those were the words of Wang-gi, a performer about his age.

Unlike Ju-seong, he had no way with words and could not perform acrobatics well.

“Ah, you idiot. Just practice your somersaults properly and stop bothering others.”

Ju-seong muttered as he closed Wang-gi’s wide-open eyes. He could not do acrobatics, but he was skilled at cooking and chores, and his heart was so generous that the troupe members loved him.

In Ju-seong’s opinion, that fellow was a hundred times better than a narrow-minded and violent man like himself. If there were more men like him, the world would be peaceful. But he was dead, while Ju-seong was alive.

The internal energy cultivation method he bought at the market was called “Seated Deep Breathing Method.” As the name suggested, it was the most basic of basics.

He had secretly hoped for more, but it truly was just a basic technique. There was, of course, no miraculous encounter.

He was an unlucky man who had no secret of birth and, on top of that, no miraculous encounter.

But life is about doing your best with what you are given. He learned to read characters bit by bit from Old Master Hwang.

He eventually became able to store a small amount of internal energy in his dantian and use it. Though it was truly just a pea-sized dantian with sparrow-piss worth of internal energy.

Still, the flying daggers flew farther, and the peaches became plums.

Sales of the cheap pills boomed, and the troupe members were happy. That was enough for Ju-seong.

He never thought what he did was honest, but he also never thought it was something to be ashamed of.

Farmers till the fields, scholars light their lamps to read, and His Majesty the Emperor upholds the words of the sages to govern all his subjects.

And the acrobat troupe does tricks and sells quack medicine. Everyone has their place, and if each does their best, is that not peace under heaven?

That is what Ju-seong thought. After all, the world needs people who do tricks and sell quack medicine to go around.

To Ju-seong, the Blue Flower Acrobatic Troupe was such a place.

A shabby patchwork of harmless lies and quack elixirs, boastful storytelling and worthless performers.

Whatever anyone said, kind-hearted people were there, and so, no matter what, it was his home.

“Heavenly Venerable, Lord Buddha, Jade Emperor, Lord Guan, Immovable King of Wisdom.”

Ju-seong did not know any requiem rites or memorial prayers. Having learned nothing but acrobatics, he simply recited the names of all the deities he knew.

“Please let all my family enter paradise…”

One by one.

With trembling hands, he placed stones while speaking in a low voice.

“If you say dirty clowns cannot enter paradise.”

His grip tightened as he placed the final stone.

“Then please let them be reborn as beasts instead of humans so they do not have to see such filth again. Please watch over them, for they were people who lived with good hearts.”

He quickly rattled off his makeshift prayer and immediately stood up, dusting himself off.

For a man, grief should be buried quickly, and action should be unhesitant.

This too was one of Old Master Hwang’s teachings.

His money pouch was full. Of course it was, since he had emptied the pockets of his dead family.

He planned to save the traveling money he would have given them and buy blades instead. Ju-seong headed for the blacksmith.

He resolved to steel his heart.

* * *

The summer of Fujian is hot.

Truly so hot that it makes you sick to your stomach. Just half an hour of walking and your nerves are on edge. Ju-seong wiped his brow and cursed.

“Damn hot.”

Moreover, Fujian Province was undeniably the land of dark path practitioners.

Now, Ju-seong had a straight saber on his back. A hand axe hung from his waist. In his hand was a short sword.

The most important thing was his expression. His brow was deeply furrowed, as if encouraging his eyebrows to meet in a passionate embrace.

Right now, he did not look like a troupe clown, but like a bona fide man of the dark path. You could call it protective coloring. Walking around dressed like a dark path man in the land of the dark path, he found that, indeed, no one suspected him.

Passersby slunk away upon seeing his appearance.

With his brow firmly furrowed, Ju-seong muttered inwardly.

‘Black Dragon Gang.’

If you were to pick the most typical name among dark path factions, this name would be first on the list.

There must be as many Black Dragon Gangs in the world as grains of sand.

But the Black Dragon Gang of Sanming Prefecture in Fujian Province was perhaps the most wretched and pathetic of them all. About fifteen bottom-feeders had set up shop and were swaggering around pretending to be martial artists.

The Black Dragon Gang was located at the top of a slum on a hill.

In Ju-seong’s judgment, this was an absolutely brilliant choice of location.

Should street-level dark path thugs not torment the poor rather than the rich? After all, sucking the blood of fleas is the virtue of human trash.

Squeezing those without money or power to fill their own bellies. That was the dark path.

“Quite the climb.”

It was Ju-seong’s grumbling complaint.

Though all mountains are said to be high, they are all just foothills beneath Mount Tai. But climbing this hill in this sweltering heat was murderous.

To squeeze the market merchants and powerless poor, they would have to climb and descend this hill multiple times a day. That would naturally sour anyone’s temper.

Was it because of that foul temper that they had so cruelly slaughtered the members of the Blue Flower Acrobatic Troupe?

Ju-seong wondered.

“…”

He thought he should go and ask.

* * *

“What is your business?”

A man standing guard at the gate of the Black Dragon Gang asked. A rather formal tone for a dark path thug.

It seemed he had become cautious due to Ju-seong’s appearance. Generously put, it was extraordinary. Less generously, it looked like he had gone off the deep end.

Still, considering that, he was a rather polite man for a dark path practitioner.

Unfortunately, Ju-seong could not state his business truthfully.

How could he say that he planned to send as many Black Dragon Gang members as possible to the underworld, and then follow them himself?

So instead of answering, he thrust out the short sword in his hand.

-Thwack!

The blade pierced the man’s chest. The man’s eyes went wide with shock, and then he collapsed.

He drew the sword out.

Blood hotter than the midsummer heat splattered across Ju-seong’s face. Was it because blood got in his eyes that they stung?

For some reason, tears streamed down.

The tears flowing down his cheeks cleared a path through the blood.

Ju-seong ended up wearing the strange makeup of a clown.

He had a comically red face, as if painted with cinnabar…

‘I rather like this makeup.’

He thought the current look suited him quite well. It was the same color as his heart.

The blood-soaked man pushed open the gate with both hands and walked in.

A fairly large hall and a courtyard spread before it greeted Ju-seong.

Dark path men armed with weapons were scattered about, sitting messily on the stairs before the hall or in the courtyard.

Ju-seong glanced around and spoke in a cheerful tone, like a theater actor.

“Why are you all sprawled on the ground? Are you beggars? Cripples? When an adult arrives, you should stand up to greet him!”

Like when selling quack medicine, a playful voice burst out naturally. Was it because he was wearing makeup that the act came naturally?

He was a seasoned clown, after all, so perhaps it was only natural.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Go get the gang leader!”

The thugs did not dare approach him carelessly, glaring at him from several steps away.

Soon, about ten more Black Dragon Gang members came pouring out.

Did their bravado grow now that their numbers had increased?

They began passionately hurling curses at Ju-seong.

Even amid the baptism of curses pouring down like artillery fire, Ju-seong calmly examined their faces. Being cursed at was part of daily life anyway.

One of them was glaring and sticking out his tongue, even licking his own blade.

‘Good grief, how disgusting.’

Ju-seong thought that even if he died, he should never be reborn as a dark path man’s weapon.

It was then.

-Creeak…

The door opened, and a man who appeared to be the gang leader made a leisurely entrance.

The man stroked his beard and asked in an arrogant tone.

“You have decorated your face quite impressively. Who are you?”

“Are you the head of this vermin-like place?”

“I asked first.”

“What is with that way of speaking? Are you seventy years old or something? I am a clown from an acrobat troupe. Satisfied?”

Annoyed for no reason, he began taking off his upper garment.

As Old Master Hwang used to say, seizing the initiative is important in a fight.

Stripping off clothes with a blood-covered face is, in itself, an excellent way to seize the initiative.

When he removed his upper garment, it revealed over a dozen flying daggers strapped to his chest.

When he removed his trousers, the flying daggers tied to his thighs also glinted in the sunlight.

-Thud, thud.

The clothes kicked up dust as they were strewn about.

Ju-seong, wearing nothing but his undergarments, glared at the dark path thugs, looking like an absolute madman.

A face smeared with red and clothes being flung off. What else would you call such a madman?

Sure enough, the men at the front began to inch backward.

Then the men at the back scolded those retreating and pushed them forward.

“What are you doing, idiot? Why are you coming back here?”

“Coward… Are you scared?”

Ju-seong watched this scene with inward admiration.

‘So this is the loyalty of the dark path.’

But their tearjerking melodrama was now over.

-Swish!

A flying dagger shot out from Ju-seong’s hand in a surprise attack and embedded itself in the grimy neck of a dark path man.

Once, he had hit peaches. After learning the internal energy cultivation method, they became plums.

And now they had become a human throat. The affairs of the world were truly unpredictable.

Flowers of blood bloomed in the air, and Ju-seong found the sight unbearably delightful.

A white smile blossomed at the corners of the clown’s lips.