Chapter 34

Chapter 34
## Chapter 34: The Ha Hou Clan (3)

“Forgive the intrusion.”

“What is the meaning of this?”

Sima Geon inquired with a civil tone.

“My apologies, but could I verify your origin and your reason for visiting?”

“If you’re so sorry, then shut your mouth—”

Sima Geon swiftly pressed his palm over Cheol Woo’s mouth as the latter began to flare up. Offering a strained grin, Sima Geon spoke up.

“We have traveled from Soheung. We received word that butchers were required for the upcoming festivities.”

“Butchers…?”

“We operate a meat shop in Soheung. Your deputy chief steward visited us personally to place an order for Soheung wine.”

Upon the mention of the high-ranking official, the youth recoiled slightly and glanced toward a gaunt individual nearby.

That man—Ha Hou Dok, the one tasked with the security of the outer clan—gave a curt nod.

He had a faint recollection of the deputy chief steward bringing up such an arrangement. Regardless, it was of little consequence. Though these men were large and looked formidable, they possessed no visible signs of martial cultivation.

Once they had cleared the main entrance, Sima Geon seized Cheol Woo by his tunic as the man walked with an arrogant stride.

“I’ve warned you to get a grip on that temper. Why must you act like a common thug looking for trouble? Are you a child?”

“My bad, boss. I’m giving it my best, but it’s tough. The moment I catch someone giving me a dirty look, I just… I lose it.”

Cheol Woo gave an sheepish smile while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just stay sharp. Everyone is restless because of the feast—if a spark catches, the whole place will ignite. Between that and the martial arts tournament, the grounds are crawling with hotheaded idiots.”

“Understood. Don’t sweat it.”

Cheol Woo gave his chest a confident slap and chuckled. Sima Geon could only let out a soft, weary breath.

He was intimately familiar with Cheol Woo’s personality from their time in Black Dragon Valley until now. He was certain that the big man’s word wouldn’t be worth much in the heat of the moment.

—

“You expect me to act as a judge for the martial competition?”

Ha Hou Jeong, the chief steward in charge of the clan’s internal and external governance, bowed low at the biting response.

“That is correct.”

“And who gave this order? The clan head?”

“N-no, my lord.”

“I thought as much. Then which half-wit came up with such a ridiculous notion?”

“Well…”

As Ha Hou Jeong faltered with a pained expression, the elderly man agitating his gourd bottle—the clan’s most formidable elder, known to the world as the Sword Freak and one of the Three Freaks of the Martial World—let out a mocking snort.

“Perhaps I should go and ask the clan head myself?”

“N-no, sir! It was a request from Second Uncle.”

“Hyeo’s idea?”

Ha Hou Jeong felt a wave of vertigo at the way Ha Hou Gok—who was well beyond sixty—spoke of the clan’s second-highest authority as if he were a mere boy. Still, he kept his composure and remained bowed.

“Yes.”

“That madman. If he wants something from me, he should show his face instead of sending a subordinate.”

Ha Hou Jeong managed a strained smile at Ha Hou Gok’s scolding.

The chief steward had authority over five hundred retainers in the primary residence and nearly three thousand people in the surrounding village—yet in this room, he was treated as nothing more than a common pebble.

“Regardless, the answer is no. Tell them to stop their chatter.”

“But it is the clan head’s seventieth birth anniversary. Just this once, please—”

Ha Hou Jeong began to plead with a look of desperation, but his eyes stretched wide as a shadow fell over him.

“Gah!”

A sharp yelp escaped him as the gourd bottle collided with his brow, sending him to the floor.

“What is so impressive about simply surviving many years? Birthdays should be managed by the youths—but a three-day carnival? Look around: plenty of people can’t even find a decent meal. What a senseless display! No, I shouldn’t be wasting my breath on you. I need to go find that delusional clan head myself.”

As Ha Hou Gok started to storm away, Ha Hou Jeong was seized by terror and grabbed the old man’s legs.

“N-no, please! I was out of line. Please, lower your voice and stay calm.”

“What did you do wrong? This is all because that idiot clan head is running this family into the ground, isn’t it? He didn’t grow wiser with age—I really ought to…”

At this stage, the situation was spiraling out of control.

Ha Hou Jeong fell to his knees, striking his head against the floor repeatedly.

“It is my failure. Have mercy, I beg of you.”

Despite the frantic apologies, Ha Hou Gok’s anger showed no signs of cooling.

Then, like a sudden reprieve from above:

“That is quite enough. Why are you tormenting the poor chief steward?”

A young man had entered the chamber without being detected—Ha Hou Yeon—and he reached down to help Ha Hou Jeong stand.

“Rise. I will see to Great-Granduncle’s temperament.”

“Th-thank you so much.”

Ha Hou Jeong gripped Ha Hou Yeon’s arm, his eyes brimming with relief. In that instant, his usually distant seventh cousin seemed like a savior.

“I-I shall take my leave now.”

The chief steward offered a hurried bow and scrambled away without a second glance.

“Tch, what a spineless fellow.”

Ha Hou Gok clicked his tongue as he watched the man flee.

“What has caused such a stir?”

Ha Hou Yeon asked as he placed a fresh bottle of spirits on the table.

“They want me to sit as a judge for the tournament.”

Ha Hou Yeon blinked, looking toward the door where Ha Hou Jeong had just vanished.

“I see… that is indeed madness.”

No sane person would propose such a thing unless they intended to see the event descend into chaos.

“You agree, then?”

Ha Hou Gok let out a short laugh and uncorked his bottle.

“I doubt the chief steward has the spine for such a plan. Whose brainchild was it?”

“The second son, apparently.”

“I suspected as much from Little Grandfather.”

Ha Hou Yeon nodded, understanding the politics at play.

In the entire clan, only Little Grandfather had the audacity to try and drag this great-granduncle—whom the soldiers called the Taizu Patriarch—into the spotlight to boost the family’s image with such a wild scheme. He was, after all, the old man’s own grandnephew.

“With the large parties from the Nangong and Youngho Clans arriving, it seems they are becoming anxious.”

“That is their problem to solve.”

Ha Hou Gok sneered with contempt and took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink.

“Kuh! This is excellent.”

He finished the bottle in a single go and reached for the next one.

“Soheung wine is unparalleled. Nothing else feels right. How much did the shipment contain?”

“They’ve packed two entire warehouses, from what I’ve been told. The feast is massive, so the spirits are flowing like a river.”

“Make sure to hide a good portion away. We won’t be tasting this again for a long time once the party ends.”

“Ha! Who do you take me for? It’s already been handled.”

“How much?”

Ha Hou Gok’s eyes lit up. Ha Hou Yeon held his arms out wide to indicate the scale.

“Ten bottles each? Hahaha! You clever boy. Finally, you’ve done something worth praising.”

Ha Hou Gok boomed with laughter, then suddenly stood up.

Ha Hou Yeon, who was just about to drink, looked up in confusion.

“Where are you going?”

“To find some food worthy of such fine spirits. If the Soheung wine has arrived, then my old friend is likely nearby as well.”

With a satisfied grin, Ha Hou Gok grabbed his drink and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Ha Hou Yeon stared at the empty space for a moment, then the realization hit him and he kicked his stool aside.

“Ah, the slaughterhouse!”

—

“Haa.”

A heavy sigh escaped Ha Hou Gok as he approached the slaughterhouse.

Ha Hou Yeon, walking a pace behind him, looked equally somber. The excitement from earlier had vanished completely.

As the butchery came into view, Ha Hou Gok’s sigh grew even heavier.

“Don’t take it so hard. Old Man So gave his word, so the new man’s talent should be exceptional.”

Ha Hou Yeon tried to offer some comfort, but Ha Hou Gok only glared back.

“You fool! You think I’m mourning over a piece of meat?”

“Eh? Then what is it…?”

“My friend is gone. My friend. Am I not allowed to feel the loss?”

Ha Hou Yeon tilted his head, puzzled by the word “friend.”

After his mother had succumbed to sickness, he had been brought into the clan by his father, whom he had never known before.

Struggling to fit in, he used to wander the outskirts alone until Ha Hou Gok had found him. They had lived together for six years now, since he was twelve—and that was when he had first met So Hang at a previous birthday celebration.

‘They talked pleasantly with Old Man So, but I never got the impression they were brothers-in-arms.’

Their conversations usually revolved around the quality of beef, the best charcoal for roasting, and which wines paired best—occasional stories of the world, but nothing intimate. They only saw each other for a day or two every year. Furthermore, the social gap between them was far too wide for a traditional “friendship.”

“What? Does ‘friend’ sound strange to you?”

“To be honest, yes. You two didn’t spend nearly enough time together for that.”

“Time is meaningless. It is the connection of the heart that counts. And how many years have I known him? Twenty years—two decades. That is long enough for the landscape to change twice over.”

Ha Hou Yeon gave a dry chuckle at the old man’s raised voice.

“You literally just said time doesn’t matter.”

“Quiet. No more talk—just follow me. Let’s see if this newcomer is as good as you say.”

They reached the butchery area in short order.

“It hasn’t changed a bit.”

Ha Hou Gok’s expression turned somber as he looked at the well in the courtyard.

“There are fewer people today. It used to be overflowing.”

Ha Hou Yeon remarked while observing the workers.

“Likely so. There must be a reason for it.”

Pushing the thought aside, Ha Hou Gok walked inside.

The workers glanced at them briefly but remained focused on their tasks.

Beyond the crowd, Ha Hou Gok saw Sima Geon and Cheol Woo preparing to slaughter an ox.

“That must be them.”

Ha Hou Yeon whispered.

“It looks that way. Let’s observe their craft.”

Ha Hou Gok took a drink from his bottle, his interest piqued.

The ox, which Cheol Woo had led in while it snorted aggressively, had become calm under Sima Geon’s hand and was now feeding peacefully on some grain.

“A final meal for the final journey. He did it exactly the same way.”

Ha Hou Gok nodded with approval at how Sima Geon mirrored the habits of So Hang perfectly.

After allowing the beast sufficient time, Sima Geon reached for his mallet and rod. His movements were so smooth that Ha Hou Gok and Ha Hou Yeon only realized he was holding the tools once he was already in position.

Even when the metal rod touched its brow, the ox continued to eat, undisturbed.

The air grew still, as if time had stopped—and then a flash of movement erupted.

It was merely the strike of a hammer, yet it carried that kind of intensity.

The ox slumped forward into the grain trough instantly.

Cheol Woo stepped in and lifted the massive animal from behind with no apparent effort.

Ha Hou Gok and Ha Hou Yeon watched in disbelief as he hoisted several hundred catties of weight without breaking a sweat.

“Good heavens! What incredible power.”

“The strength to pull up mountains, the spirit to cover the earth.”

As Cheol Woo made the initial cut, secured the limbs to an iron spit, and hoisted it onto a frame to drain the blood, Sima Geon turned his attention to the pigs and sheep already waiting.

Sima Geon’s hands moved with total confidence around his three-foot blade.

With every flick of his wrist, the skin parted perfectly, revealing the structure beneath.

Meat was separated from bone in a heartbeat. The edge of his blade never stuttered or lost its pace.

A full-grown pig was portioned out in less than a dozen breaths. Though he was no professional, Ha Hou Gok had spent years watching So Hang work on livestock—he was stunned by Sima Geon’s lethal efficiency.

“His skill is immense.”

“It goes beyond skill. Did you see that blade work? This is…”

No ordinary butcher, no matter how practiced, could handle a weapon like that man.

Ha Hou Gok watched in silence as Sima Geon moved on to the sheep.

‘The more I see, the more it shocks me. It is terrifyingly accurate.’

Praise escaped his lips before he could stop it.