Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 82 - As the Moon Wanes

Chapter 82 – As the Moon Wanes

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Translated by Heavenly Cat

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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Amidst the scattered stalls and the crowd filling the marketplace, a woman in a black leather cloak walked past.

In the late spring, a woman was walking in an all-black leather cloak with an all-black broad-brimmed hat.

It was common attire for suspicious people, but there was something distinctive about her atmosphere. Merchants, beggars, ruffians, and travelers unconsciously made way for her.

She looked up briefly at a five-story pleasure house with a signboard reading “Cheongpung Pavilion,” then entered.

Guided to the top floor, she met with the Pavilion Master without any hindrance.

The Cheongpung Pavilion Master was a middle-aged man with long hair hanging loose.

He was weighing silver coins on a scale to gauge their weight, not even lifting his head as he asked.

“Was it successful?”

The woman’s face was barely visible due to the shadow cast by her broad-brimmed hat.

When she opened her mouth to answer, it was as if words flowed from somewhere in that pitch-black form.

“The child is with me.”

The Pavilion Master raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

“I told you to kill him.”

“What I wanted was revenge on Qingcheng and Emei, not killing some brat who doesn’t know anything.”

The Pavilion Master asked in a cold tone.

“Are you aware that ‘brat’ is a prodigy who will be responsible for Qingcheng’s next hundred years?”

“A child is still a child.”

The woman in the leather cloak seemed to have no intention of losing this argument with the Pavilion Master.

Originally, in arguments between martial artists, it’s not the better speaker who wins, but the side with greater martial prowess.

Because the weaker side would back down before getting punched in the face.

Judging from the woman’s attitude, she seemed confident her martial power was not lacking.

The Pavilion Master glared at her for a moment before slowly speaking.

“…So you kept him alive to prevent me from trying to silence you?”

If that child died, the conflict between Qingcheng and Emei would intensify further.

On the other hand, if the child’s survival was revealed, the two sects’ conflict would inevitably calm down.

The one responsible for executing this operation was the Cheongpung Pavilion Master, the eastern Sichuan branch chief of the Ten Thousand Ears Gang.

As the designated next Sichuan General Headquarters Chief, he had connections with the “real higher-ups.”

But if this matter went awry, he would inevitably face “discipline” from his superiors.

That discipline would be on a completely different level from how ordinary businesses or families held people accountable.

The Pavilion Master suddenly recalled the face of the Vajra Pavilion Master, the Sichuan General Headquarters Chief.

Whenever he thought of those bizarre eyes that moved independently left and right, the hair on his forearms stood on end involuntarily.

In any case…

If the child had been killed, this woman would have been disposed of on the spot. Though her martial prowess was similar to his, there were “external personnel” lurking in this building.

But with things twisted like this, it was impossible to kill this woman immediately.

Because the child was alive, and they didn’t know his whereabouts.

The woman sensed from the Pavilion Master’s reaction that she had been betrayed.

“Just hand over what you promised.”

The Pavilion Master readily pulled a jar from under the desk and placed it on top.

“Take it. Though I doubt you’ll be able to get out of Chongqing with this thing.”

Even hearing the Pavilion Master’s words, the woman showed no emotional reaction.

Her expression and gestures were thoroughly hidden by the leather cloak and hat.

She simply said calmly.

“Don’t think about having me followed. The Assassination Curtain’s men are packed all over Cheongpung Pavilion like insects…”

“Ha! You could sense the Assassination Curtain assassins’ presence? Interesting.”

“I happen to have rather keen energy perception. You haven’t forgotten who my master is, have you?”

Perhaps the woman’s calm attitude slightly riled him, as the Pavilion Master leaned back in his chair and sneered.

“Let me think. Between those two old hags, which was your master? The one on Emei Mountain who’s at death’s door? Or the wrinkled, short stump in Guizhou…”

-Slice!

A silver trajectory cut through the air, leaving a long gash on the Pavilion Master’s desk before vanishing.

-Click.

The sound of a sword being sheathed rang softly from inside the leather cloak.

“That’s the line, Pavilion Master. I can kill you with my martial arts alone.”

“Hmm…”

The Pavilion Master glanced at the mark on his desk, then shrugged and replied.

“I have no intention of having you followed. The people on the streets will serve as my eyes and ears. Wait for me, Heuk-wol. I’ll come for you soon…”

The woman turned without answering and left the Pavilion Master’s office.

It was spring, but only a coldness like that brought from the North Sea’s frigid snow lingered where she had been.

“…Damned woman.”

The Cheongpung Pavilion Master clicked his tongue and muttered, left alone.

* * *

Ju-seong had just woken up and was watching the street lights brighten one by one. He had slept through the day. Now the sun was setting.

Twilight fell…

The people of the day herded their children back to their homes. And the people of the night began emerging onto the streets one by one.

Ju-seong thought of birds returning to their nests at sunset while field mice squirmed out.

Women with powdered faces, men with weapons at their sides.

Chongqing’s night was a dreamland for waitress girls who poured drinks and young men who wielded blades.

“Hmm…”

Ju-seong, who had been lazily sighing while sprawled on the window frame, suddenly had a gleam in his eyes.

“Here is someone who looks rather strong for the first time in a while, though their aura isn’t visible…”

Hiding one’s aura was common in the jianghu.

Ju-seong followed with his eyes the woman in the black hat and black leather cloak.

Her shoulders moved up and down very little. This meant she incorporated the subtleties of footwork into her normal gait.

Her chest didn’t expand when she breathed. This meant dantian breathing was so habitual that she breathed through her abdomen.

These were indicators for recognizing a good martial artist, but going into the finer details, one could gauge the opponent’s specific strength.

The frequency with which she turned her head, the way she moved through crowds, and her particular atmosphere all pointed to her strength. Above all, when suspicious people like that exude a madwoman-like air, they are usually strong.

That’s what the jianghu was like… hard to stay sane in.

Ju-seong saw her enter the Shancha Inn where he was staying and curled his lips upward.

“Well then… Let me start my questioning with the marketplace.”

When Ju-seong went downstairs, the inn was quiet, with only the black-clad figure sitting still and sipping on a drink.

‘Drinking so early in the evening.’

She appeared to be the typical wanderer of the jianghu, like duckweed drifting on water.

There are two reasons a jianghu person seeks drink: because their regrets run deep, or to forget the pain from old wounds. Usually, it’s both.

From the contours of her body, she was a woman.

The leather cloak she wore had no fur, and its texture was dull rather than shiny, having been brushed with an iron comb. This was attire suited for moving in total darkness.

Ju-seong slinked over and, touching the table where the woman sat, asked.

“Would you mind if I joined you? It’s a lonely night with no one to talk to.”

The woman slightly lifted her hat to look at Ju-seong, then turned her gaze to survey the inn’s dining hall.

Besides them, there were only two or three others in the hall. They sat at separate tables, quietly finishing their meals or nursing drinks.

“If you’re lonely at night, find a woman who can comfort you. I’m not the type to soothe a man’s loneliness.”

Ju-seong shrugged and replied.

“I’m not looking for that kind of woman either. Two jianghu people have met, so I just wanted to exchange a few words.”

“No. Try somewhere else.”

“Is that so? Then I can’t help it.”

Having said that, Ju-seong walked to the table right next to where the woman sat and plopped down.

Then he began staring at her with an uncomfortable gaze as she chewed on her side dishes.

“…Hah.”

The woman sighed deeply and spoke.

“If you’re going to act like that, come sit here. But don’t expect pleasant conversation.”

Ju-seong’s face lit up as he hopped off his chair and scurried over to claim a seat.

“Then let us have an ashen conversation. We can talk as if we were two men… gloomy and melancholic… sharing stories that smell of blood and iron.”

“Quite the glib tongue.”

“Did you think I was some noble young master from a great family? Me, proposing to share a table with a mysterious, gloomy figure in black?”

“…”

The woman silently sipped her drink. For an instant, the swinging red lantern’s light from outside bled through and briefly illuminated her face before withdrawing.

She was quite a beautiful woman, but a large scar crossed her face.

Ju-seong thought for a moment before speaking.

“Why are you wearing a leather cloak in this weather?”

“Who knows when it might rain or the wind might blow?”

“Wise words. That is the jianghu life. One must be prepared for every situation.”

Ju-seong was babbling randomly and felt awkward, so he shouted.

“Waiter! Bring me a drink. Baijiu.”

“Any side dishes?”

“Since we’re surrounded by rivers on three sides, bring me something made of fish. Spicy. Something that captures the soul of Sichuan… With a numbing taste. You know what I mean?”

“Then I’ll bring out water-boiled fish.”

“Yes. Do as you please.”

The woman under the wide-brimmed hat let out a small laugh.

“What a lot of words just to order something.”

“I’m naturally talkative.”

“A man who talks too much dies early. He’s also unpopular with women.”

“I’m handsome, so I’m fine.”

When Ju-seong lifted his chin slightly and acted proud, the woman silently studied him before taking another drink.

Ju-seong’s eyes followed her hand as it lifted the cup and set it back down.

As if broken and reset, her finger joints were thick and bent in various places.

All five fingers were like that.

Ju-seong thought again before asking.

“What is your name?”

“Call me Heuk-wol.”

Just then, the waiter brought out the drink and food.

“Enjoy your meal.”

Ju-seong rubbed his chopsticks together, then put a plump piece of freshwater fish soaked in the red broth into his mouth.

“Hot, damn it… I’ve burned the roof of my mouth.”

He fussed about and hurriedly offered the drink bottle.

“Pour me one. I’ll pour you one in return.”

Heuk-wol shook her head while looking at Ju-seong, but reluctantly took the bottle and tilted it.

Ju-seong also lifted her bottle and poured for her. The sharp aroma of alcohol tickled his nose.

He exclaimed in admiration and asked.

“Whoa… This is bamboo leaf liquor. Can I have a drink of this too?”

Heuk-wol sighed and waved her palm.

“Do as you please.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

Ju-seong drained the baijiu like a ghost possessed by alcohol, then snatched Heuk-wol’s bamboo leaf liquor to pour into his own cup.

“Ahh… This is nice. A mysterious martial artist, the nighttime streets of a sleepless city, and the two of us exchanging drinks in a quiet, dim corner of an inn while desire and light writhe tangled together outside…”

Heuk-wol seemed fed up with Ju-seong’s rambling and sighed softly, turning her head to look outside.

Ju-seong was starving, so he scraped the spicy freshwater fish stew clean and said.

“My name is Ju-seong. Unlike you, I gave you my real name. Heuk-wol is nothing proper. Isn’t that an ominous name?”

Heuk-wol refers to the half-month period when the moon wanes.

The half-month when the moon waxes is called baek-wol, the white moon.

“Hearing your voice, you’re not yet at an age of waning…”

“Regardless of my age, my life waned before it could wax, so Heuk-wol is a fitting name.”

Ju-seong shook his head, then looked at the woman directly and said quietly.

“Does the moon rise every night just to wane?”

“…”

The woman silently poured him a drink. Ju-seong also lifted a bottle and tilted it into her cup.

Just then, a young boy came trotting down the stairs and spoke to Heuk-wol.

“Lady, I’m hungry.”

Heuk-wol called for the waiter without looking at the child.

“Bring out a bowl of meat soup.”

“Yes, coming right up.”

Ju-seong tilted his head curiously and asked.

“Is he your son?”

“Just a child I’m traveling with. Why are you so curious about everything?”

“My, what a sharp person… Have another drink.”

The child cleaned his bowl of meat soup, then ran back up to his room without a word.

“He eats well…”

Ju-seong turned his head to look at Heuk-wol downing her drinks.

“This one eats well too.”

Heuk-wol was a heavy drinker, but not a bottomless pit.

In the sense that she didn’t refuse drinks poured for her, she resembled the general in the old story that was the origin of the phrase “accepting drinks without limit.”

Why she had drunk so much in front of a stranger was unclear.

Perhaps because she couldn’t detect any danger from Ju-seong, or perhaps today was a day she absolutely had to get drunk.

Ju-seong hoisted the woman onto his back and, after asking the waiter, placed her in her room.

The child, who had been sitting on the floor reading something, looked up and asked.

“Who are you, mister?”

“What does it matter to you.”

Ju-seong threw back at the child what the woman had said to him.

Petty as it was… taking out his grudge over rudeness on a child… even he knew he was a small-minded man.

Before leaving the room, Ju-seong told the child.

“Take off her shoes. If you sleep with shoes on, your feet swell.”

“Okay. But who are you?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Ju-seong carefully closed the door and returned to his own room. Only then did he realize he hadn’t learned anything from the black-clad woman.

“I didn’t get anything out of her.”

It was because of the scar crossing her face and the fingers that had all been broken and reset.

Or perhaps it was the scent of crumbling sorrow that wafted from between her pitch-black clothes, like the night itself.

His intention to skillfully loosen her tongue and extract information had softened completely.

Ju-seong sat by the window and watched the night streets for a while, then decided to sleep before it got too late.

He wasn’t sleepy since he’d just woken up, but once sleep habits got disrupted, they were hard to correct.

“Come to me once more, O Demon of Sleep.”

This time, the darkness didn’t come immediately. Chongqing’s night was louder than its day.

* * *

Ok-wol drew her sword and heightened her guard, her lips twisting.

“To encounter Qingcheng Sect’s chief disciple here, of all places. What truly bad luck.”

“Martial Aunt… Shouldn’t we flee?”

“So-so, remember this. You can flee from multiple martial artists of lower skill than yourself, but it’s better not to turn your back on martial artists equal to or above your level.”

-Hum…

With a deep sound, a vermilion sword energy wrapped around Ok-wol’s sword like a heat shimmer.

The man standing before them had his upper body hidden in the shadow of the eaves, so his face wasn’t visible.

He didn’t seem to be in a combat stance.

Rather, he slowly drew his hands behind his back and spoke.

“I have no intention of fighting here and now. How can two sects that have rubbed shoulders on Sichuan’s land for hundreds of years turn their swords against each other? Let us hear each other out before deciding whether to fight or not.”

Ok-wol found it difficult to tell if the man’s words were sincere.

The man before her was someone almost nothing was known about in the world.

But if the fragmentary rumors were true, he was an opponent she and her martial niece couldn’t last ten seconds against even if they joined forces.

Ok-wol slowly withdrew her sword energy and said.

“What do you want to discuss? Our two sects have already crossed a river from which there is no return. By now, martial artists from our main mountains must be clashing in Chengdu’s plains and streets.”

As the man stepped forward, the shadow that had hidden his upper body finally lifted.

He was an unexpectedly delicate-looking man. Though his physique was excellent and he was large, his pale face, drooping eyes, and lingering baby fat covered the warrior’s intimidation.

He even seemed to have a constitution where facial hair didn’t grow well, as only long, downy fuzz was visible on his chin.

But who could look down on this man?

For this was the chief disciple of the great Qingcheng Sect.

Cheong-jin opened his mouth.

“Mok Yeo-woon… I’ve come to find that child.”

“How do you plan to find a child who is already dead?”

Cheong-jin gazed at Ok-wol for a moment before speaking, as if having made a decision.

“We haven’t found the child’s body. He was kidnapped.”

Ok-wol’s eyes widened in shock.