Chapter 292 - If Only Every Passenger Were Like This

Pyeon Jung was lucky.

He had driven a carriage from Jiangxi to Hubei, then spent two days unable to find a fare for the return journey. Now, at last, he had found one bound for Jiangxi.

Carriage rental establishments hired drivers, matched them with jobs, and took a cut of their earnings. Pyeon Jung asked the manager arranging the rental a question.

“Where is the passenger headed?”

“To the Divine Cult of the Heavenly Demon’s Jiangxi branch.”

Pyeon Jung lowered his voice.

“Is he a demonic martial artist, by any chance?”

“He didn’t look like one.”

Even so, Pyeon Jung was nervous and afraid. How many drivers had died after getting caught up in fights involving unorthodox or demonic martial artists?

Pyeon Jung cleaned the carriage and waited. Eventually, his passenger arrived—a handsome young man.

“My name is Pyeon Jung. I’ll see you safely to your destination.”

“I’ll be in your care. I’m in no particular hurry, so there’s no need to drive too fast.”

“Understood.”

The young man’s greeting told Pyeon Jung all he needed to know.

‘He’s not a demonic martial artist.’

He had carried plenty of them before, but never one this courteous.

Of course, Pyeon Jung was mistaken. His passenger was one of the most famous demonic martial artists of all. The young man was Geom Mugeuk.

He had hired the carriage to travel to Jiangxi. He would practice the Heavenly Demon’s Body-Protection Art along the way, stopping to admire any particularly fine scenery. He intended to take his time and enjoy a restful journey.

“All right, we’re setting off.”

And so the carriage departed.

After driving for some time, Pyeon Jung glanced back through the window opening onto the driver’s seat. Geom Mugeuk’s eyes were closed. He could not tell whether his passenger was asleep or lost in thought.

‘Yes, this is the best kind of passenger.’

Inside the carriage, Geom Mugeuk was practicing the Heavenly Demon’s Body-Protection Art. Sometimes traveling like this actually helped him concentrate. The wind brushing against the carriage, distant birdsong, the voices of passing travelers—at times, those sounds sharpened his focus.

When he grew tired of training, he would look out at the scenery, as he was doing now.

‘Now this is rest.’

Yi An probably had not meant brief breaks between sessions of practicing the Heavenly Demon’s Body-Protection Art when she told him to rest. Still, in his present circumstances, even this sort of respite was a luxury.

After gazing at the passing scenery, Geom Mugeuk closed his eyes again.

He began carefully reciting the tediously familiar formulas of the Heavenly Demon’s Body-Protection Art as though he were learning them for the first time. Another drop of water fell into the bucket.

* * *

That evening, the carriage stopped at an inn. Every driver had different places to rest, but those places shared one thing in common.

“I hear the inns where drivers stop serve good food.”

“That’s right. We travel so often that we know exactly which inns have the best cooking.”

The two entered the inn.

“Well, please enjoy your rest.”

“Let’s eat together.”

“Oh, I’m all right.”

As a rule, drivers ate separately from their passengers. Some passengers bought them meals, but usually each person took care of his own food and lodging until it was time to leave.

“I don’t want to eat alone. Join me.”

Pyeon Jung sat down, pretending to yield reluctantly. A free meal meant that much more money saved, so he certainly had nothing to complain about.

“You must know the menu well. What would you recommend? What’s their best dish?”

Pyeon Jung recommended several dishes, and Geom Mugeuk ordered them all.

“Now, I’m hungry. Let’s eat our fill.”

Geom Mugeuk was the ideal passenger for a driver.

He did not invite Pyeon Jung to sit and eat only to pester him with questions or lecture him.

There were people like that: people who made a great show of every kindness, people who boasted until your ears hurt, and even people who asked how much a driver earned, then advised him to find a different way to live.

But Geom Mugeuk simply gazed absently out of the inn.

If anything, Pyeon Jung wanted to strike up a conversation. What did this young hero do? Why was he visiting a Demonic Cult branch?

Of course, he asked nothing. He was old enough to know that nothing good came of getting involved with martial artists.

The food soon arrived, and Geom Mugeuk ordered wine as well. He poured some for Pyeon Jung.

“I’ll have just one cup. I have a carriage to drive.”

Enjoying wine and delicious food for the first time in ages, Pyeon Jung felt truly alive again. Lately, he had barely been eating enough to stave off hunger, always trying to save money.

‘Honestly, if every passenger were like this, driving a carriage would be a decent living.’

A driver’s life was usually a succession of anxious days, not lucky days like this one.

It felt rude to say nothing when his passenger was even buying him dinner, so he ventured a cautious question.

“Is this your first visit to Jiangxi?”

“No.”

“I see.”

The question of why he was visiting the Demonic Cult branch rose to Pyeon Jung’s lips, but he firmly swallowed it.

“Thank you for the meal.”

Geom Mugeuk refrained from making conversation lest he make the driver uncomfortable. His years as a wandering martial artist had given him ample experience. At times like this, simply staying quiet was the considerate thing to do.

After the meal, as Geom Mugeuk headed upstairs to his room, he asked Pyeon Jung,

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I can sleep in the carriage. Please go and get a good night’s rest.”

Pyeon Jung normally snatched what sleep he could in the carriage. He needed to save every coin.

Geom Mugeuk paid for a room for him as well.

“I’m really all right.”

“I’d prefer to ride in a carriage driven by someone who’s slept comfortably.”

After that, Pyeon Jung could hardly refuse again. Truly, if only every passenger were like this!

Pyeon Jung entered his room in high spirits.

‘How long has it been since I last slept in a bed?’

That night, he slept in perfect comfort. He did not envy even the Martial Alliance Leader.

Geom Mugeuk’s kindness continued the next day.

He invited Pyeon Jung to eat with him and paid for another room. Pyeon Jung waved his hands in protest, insisting he was fine, but Geom Mugeuk argued that looking after the person holding the reins meant looking after his own safety.

In the end, they ate together, and Pyeon Jung slept in a good bed.

On the first day, he had simply enjoyed the good food and comfortable sleep. On the second, however, he thought of his wife and children as he ate. This was a dish his children loved. He had bought it for his eldest’s birthday last year. Or had that been the year before?

If only he could take some home. If there were any way to do it, he truly wanted to.

Then he looked up to find Geom Mugeuk watching him. As though he had read his thoughts, Geom Mugeuk asked about his children.

“Do you have children?”

“Two.”

“How old are they?”

“Seven and nine.”

“You must miss them.”

Pyeon Jung grinned and nodded. Was missing them all there was to it? Sometimes he felt the urge to turn the carriage around and race home that very instant.

That night, his children appeared in his dreams.

* * *

Occasionally, Geom Mugeuk asked him to stop the carriage somewhere scenic.

Far away, the sun was setting beyond the river. The red glow spreading over the glittering water was truly magnificent.

Geom Mugeuk watched in silence, his arms folded.

Thanks to him, Pyeon Jung also watched the sunset for the first time in ages. Now that he thought about it, he had not watched the sun go down like this in so long that he could not even remember the last time.

At sunset, he was always too busy urging the carriage onward, anxious to reach an inn before dark. The evening glow had been a signal that made him uneasy. Today, he discovered anew just how beautiful a sunset could be.

“My heart told me I looked tired and ought to stop for a rest. So I intend to listen to it.”

“Ah, I see.”

Pyeon Jung answered as though he understood, but he had no idea what Geom Mugeuk meant. His heart? What did that mean? All it did was give him the mistaken impression that his passenger might have a heart condition.

They traveled on and on, until they were a day away from their destination.

Geom Mugeuk caught Pyeon Jung canceling his room with the innkeeper and collecting a refund. He had happened to come out for some fresh air and witnessed the exchange. Pretending not to have seen, he went outside.

“Ah!”

Pyeon Jung sighed in dismay. Considering the other man’s generosity, he should never have done that. Even if his passenger understood, he felt utterly wretched.

It weighed on Pyeon Jung throughout the next day’s drive. When they stopped in an open field to let the horses rest, he approached Geom Mugeuk.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“It’s all right.”

He could have left it at that. But a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Had his passenger been foul-tempered, fear would have made him explain every detail. Offering only an apology and letting the matter drop because this man was kind felt cowardly.

Yes, he should at least give a proper explanation.

“Last year, my youngest came down with a terrible fever. I borrowed money to pay for medicine. We were already barely getting by, and in my desperation, I borrowed money I should never have touched.”

“You took out a Hell King Debt.”

“Yes.”

Pyeon Jung sighed.

“It wasn’t even that much. I borrowed ten taels for treatment... but now, a year later, I owe seventy. And that’s despite paying more than twenty taels in interest already.”

That was why he snatched his sleep in the carriage. He had to pay the interest and feed his wife and children. Yet the debt only kept growing.

“It’s my own fault. I borrowed it even after hearing how high the interest was.”

He did not regret it. Without that money, his youngest would have died or been left disabled.

Then Geom Mugeuk spoke.

“How is that your fault, Master Pyeon? The fault lies with the people offering Hell King Debt at interest rates beyond all reason.”

Hearing himself addressed as Master Pyeon brought a sudden surge of emotion. No one had ever spoken to a carriage driver with such respect.

And whenever he told people about the loan, they all said it was his own fault. Why had he borrowed from those people in the first place?

“What’s the name of the place you borrowed from?”

“It’s called the Money Exchange.”

“Let’s stop there first.”

“No, you mustn’t. They’re violent, vicious men. Some of them know martial arts, and I’ve heard rumors that they have frightening people behind them. They’ve been lending Hell King Debt in this area for a very long time, and they’re still going strong.”

Pyeon Jung felt both hope that he might escape this hell and fear that this good man might be killed by those people.

Geom Mugeuk looked at him blankly.

“I think you’ve misunderstood something. I’m going because I need money.”

For a moment, Pyeon Jung did not know whether to believe him. This man had spent so freely throughout the journey, and now he wanted to take out a Hell King Debt? All of a sudden?

“Come, let’s go.”

What could a driver do when his passenger wanted to go? The carriage turned away from its original destination.

* * *

To Pyeon Jung’s astonishment, Geom Mugeuk really did borrow money when they arrived at the Money Exchange.

“How much can you lend me?”

Ju Yang, the man handling the loans, looked Geom Mugeuk up and down.

“We don’t usually lend to outsiders...”

He trailed off rather than making a firm statement. That meant he would lend after all.

“Do you have collateral?”

“No. Shall I leave my sword with you?”

“How much could a mere sword be worth? We don’t accept swords as collateral.”

Most swords martial artists offered as collateral were worthless. Plenty of people bought some cheap blade and tried to pass it off as a famed sword.

“My sword would be hurt to hear that.”

Ju Yang glanced at the sword. The sight of it tightly wrapped in bloodstained cloth drew a snort from him. What an effort the man had made to dress it up as something impressive.

“If you have no collateral, you can get someone to act as guarantor.”

At Ju Yang’s words, Geom Mugeuk turned to Pyeon Jung, who had accompanied him.

“Would you guarantee my loan?”

Pyeon Jung jumped in alarm. Talk about squeezing blood from a stone! Had the man brought him here just to make him stand as guarantor?

“I’m joking. My father told me never to guarantee a loan, even for family.”

Pyeon Jung let out a relieved sigh.

“How much can I borrow without collateral or a guarantor?”

“We can lend you up to ten taels.”

“Good. I’ll borrow ten taels.”

“Now, write your personal details on this promissory note and put your handprint on it.”

Geom Mugeuk filled it out as instructed and added his handprint. When it came to handing over the loan, they made it easy—swift and decisive, indeed.

“If you don’t repay on time, interest will accrue. There’s always some bastard who starts bitching later about the interest being too high. Shameless scum, coming here of their own accord to borrow, then spouting that crap.”

Pyeon Jung lowered his head. Ju Yang had said that for his benefit.

Geom Mugeuk took Pyeon Jung’s side.

“How desperate must someone be to borrow at such high interest? The shameless ones are those who exploit that desperation.”

Ju Yang’s expression stiffened. But the thoroughly seasoned lender did not lose his temper. No one knew better than he did how insolent fools like this ended up.

‘You fucking idiot. Let’s see whether you’re still saying that later. I’ll show you what it means to be unable to repay even when you want to.’

Ju Yang checked the details on the promissory note.

“So you’re from Guangxi. You’ve come a long way. I trust you’ve written your address correctly. Your father’s name is Geom Ujin—a fine name. I don’t know whether you’re aware, but we have branches in every province. They’ll soon verify what you’ve written and send word.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll warn you now: don’t think of running off without repaying. Your family will have to pay in your place. That means we’ll go looking for your father.”

“My father has plenty of money.”

With that, Geom Mugeuk left with Pyeon Jung. All around the courtyard, numerous men carrying swords were coming and going. This was a sizable Hell King Debt operation.

Once they were outside, Pyeon Jung finally asked the question he had been holding back.

“Why on earth did you come here?”

He had worried that a sword fight might break out. He had worried—and hoped.

He had hoped this young hero would draw his sword, wipe them all out, and tell him he no longer owed anything. It was selfish and grasping of him, but that was honestly how he felt.

“Didn’t I tell you I came to borrow money?”

“You came to borrow a mere ten taels? Young Hero... you don’t need that money, do you?”

Considering the spending habits he had witnessed on their journey, Pyeon Jung could not understand why Geom Mugeuk would borrow ten taels.

“I most certainly do.”

He had not come solely because of the Hell King Debt. He intended to begin his undercover inspection of the Jiangxi branch here. Corruption was always connected to money.

Two men began following Geom Mugeuk at a distance. Their surveillance was blatant, a warning that he was being watched and had better not try anything.

“Wouldn’t lending ten taels and hiring two men to watch you actually cost them money?”

Geom Mugeuk showed him the ten taels in his palm and answered with a question.

“This isn’t really ten taels, is it?”

Pyeon Jung gave a cry of realization. He understood what Geom Mugeuk meant.

Starting with these ten taels, they would stick a tube into him and suck his blood for the rest of his life. So the money he had just borrowed was not ten taels. It was hundreds, thousands of taels. Just as it was for Pyeon Jung now.

“Let’s see how they collect these ten taels.”