Chapter 2
Chang’an City.
Outside the Anhwa Gate, in Jang Family Village.
Early afternoon (around 1 p.m.).
Two people entered a faded, old estate.
Dan Bulwi and a four-year-old child.
The child, clutching a candied fruit stick tightly in one hand, walked with his eyes fixed on the ground.
Stopping before a storage shed secured with a lock, Dan Bulwi glanced sideways.
By now, the child should have been crying and screaming for his parents, yet strangely, he made no sound at all.
Just then, a bearded man, Jang Yeok, came rushing over, panting.
“Oh no! Inspector Dan, forgive me for making you wait. I just had to relieve myself at the latrine.”
“I only just got here. Open the door.”
“Yes, yes.”
Jang Yeok undid the fist-sized padlock and cracked the storage door open.
From the pitch-black interior wafted a rank smell of sweat.
Even the stoic child startled at that moment and tugged at Dan Bulwi’s sleeve.
Dan Bulwi pried the child’s hand away and said,
“Hey now! I’m not your father. Your friends are inside there. If you stay and play with them for a while, I’ll take you to a good home soon. Just behave until then. If you make a racket here, that man will punish you. Understand?”
Startled by Dan Bulwi’s sudden change in tone, the boy answered in a frightened voice.
“Y-yes…”
“Go in.”
With that, Dan Bulwi gave the boy’s back a gentle push.
As the child stepped inside, Jang Yeok quickly locked the door again.
Five children inside the shed stared fixedly at the newcomer.
One boy, who looked to be about seven, asked,
“You got sold too?”
“…I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? If your parents took money, then you were sold. If not, then you were kidnapped. Did you see them get paid?”
“No.”
“Then you got kidnapped. Your mom and dad will come looking for you.”
The four-year-old didn’t answer. Instead, he crouched in a corner.
The thought of his parents searching for him made his stomach sink with dread.
‘That… that mustn’t happen…’
The next day.
Dan Bulwi, ever stingy, once again went out to the bustling market.
By late afternoon, he returned with another boy, this one six or seven years old, also clutching candied fruit.
Meeting Jang Yeok’s eyes outside the shed, Dan Bulwi joked,
“Goodness, kids these days just love Song’s candied fruit. When you have brats of your own, teach them this: no matter who offers them sweets, never follow. You hear?”
“Of course. It’s all because people can’t resist free things. I’ll teach my children that greed for freebies only ruins lives.”
“Ha! So you studied a little when you were young, huh? Spitting out fancy words like that.”
Jang Yeok chuckled, pulling the key from his robe.
Once the shed door opened, Dan Bulwi nudged the new child inside.
But unlike the boy yesterday, this one planted his feet firmly and resisted.
“Mister! I was wrong! Please, don’t kill me!”
The boy, quiet until now, suddenly panicked and screamed.
But Dan Bulwi, a seasoned trafficker, didn’t bat an eye.
“Kill you? Who said anything about killing? I told you—I’ll send you to a good home. Ask the kids inside, no one’s been eaten. Quit fussing.”
As the child hesitated, uncertain, Jang Yeok swiftly scooped him up and shoved him inside.
The boy cried so hard he nearly lost his breath.
“Uwaaaaah!”
Crying is contagious.
The other children in the shed soon joined in, wailing.
Annoyed, Jang Yeok slammed the boy onto the floor.
Thud!
The child was so shocked that he went instantly silent.
The other children also stifled their sobs, hiccuping quietly.
Jang Yeok glared at them like a tiger and barked,
“Listen up, brats. You’ve all been sold. Got it? Your parents sold you to us. You think they’d be happy if you went home? Wrong! They’d have to pay us back several times what we gave them. If you run off, your parents will be begging us to take you back. Otherwise, they’ll owe so much money they’ll be ruined. Whole families starve because of runaways like you. Even if you escape somewhere else, we’ll collect the money from your parents anyway. So stop bawling and behave. That’s the only way to be filial. Understand?”
“H-hic… yes…”
The children swallowed their sobs and answered.
Some, like the four-year-old, had been kidnapped, not sold—but none dared refute Jang Yeok’s words.
They didn’t truly grasp the difference, and terror left them too cowed to speak.
Outside, Jang Yeok locked the shed again.
Inside, despair thickened.
The child who had been slammed sat in a daze, while the others scarcely dared to breathe.
But the youngest, the four-year-old, was different.
His head remained bowed, yet his expression was oddly calm—
as if such violence was nothing unusual.
—Mother.
—How dare you call me mother? You filthy, evil spawn! You’ll grow up just like that monster! You never should’ve been born! If only you hadn’t been born, I—! I—! Aaagh! Die! You deserve to die!
Many times each day, his mother had strangled him.
And only rarely did she hold him and weep with sorrow.
—Sob… I’m sorry, my baby… It’s not your fault. I’m the mad one. I should have died instead…
Living in an outhouse with such a mother, just the two of them, the boy found Jang Yeok’s threats meaningless.
In fact, the shed life suited him in its own way.
Dark and smelly, yes—but there was no terrifying mother to curse and beat him at every glance.
Here, at least, he could rest without fear.
Most importantly, he no longer had to wake to choking hands at his throat.
Dozing off in the dark, the boy unconsciously murmured “Mom…” and startled awake in terror.
Realizing again that he was in the shed, he let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.
To this four-year-old, his mother was someone he missed at times—
but also a figure of paralyzing fear.
The next day.
Mountain road on the outskirts of Guanne-do (modern Shanxi Province).
Beside the driver’s seat, Dan Bulwi fanned his face with his hand.
“Ugh, damn it! So hot. How much farther?”
“Just about two hours more.”
“Step it up. The heat’ll kill the brats. I spent two hundred coins getting them.”
Hearing his boasting, the driver glanced at the wagon.
Seven children inside—nearly thirty coins each.
‘As if he really paid that much.’
Everyone knew most of Amun’s “goods” were kidnapped children.
Who was he fooling?
Still, since Dan Bulwi was an Inspector, the driver kept quiet and cracked the whip.
“Hyah! Hyah!”
The wagon jolted forward, and a few whimpers rose from the children.
All six or seven years old—small enough to fuss—but that was all.
Even young, they’d already learned to endure harshness.
But Dan Bulwi wouldn’t even allow that much.
One indulgence, he believed, would only lead to more.
“Silence! You little bastards!”
At his shout, the wagon went dead quiet.
The driver’s chest tightened with unease.
Unlike the criminal Amun, his guild—Chamun, the Carriage Guild—had always stuck to honest work.
Were it not for this being a Hao Clan operation, he would never have gotten involved with them.
Dan Bulwi, gazing idly at the mountains, muttered,
“Damn! What glory is there in gathering brats in this heat? Our Guanne-do leaders sure dream big. But worms don’t turn into dragons. Don’t you agree?”
Though an Inspector, Dan Bulwi didn’t belittle the driver.
The man was a member of Chamun, after all.
He asked respectfully enough, but the reply wasn’t what he expected.
“Still, I think it’s worth trying. If Guanne-do unites the Hao Clan across all ten provinces, who knows? We might become like the Beggar’s Sect.”
The Hao Clan wasn’t a single sect.
It was a collective name for six occupational guilds:
-
Chamun (Carriage Guild, drivers)
-
Sunmun (Boatmen’s Guild)
-
Jeommun (Shopboys’ Guild)
-
Gakmun (Porters’ Guild)
-
Gimun (Courtesans’ Guild)
-
Amun (Human traffickers)
Because of their separate origins, each had its own leader—six in total.
Across the realm, the land was divided into ten provinces, each with six Hao organizations.
Sixty leaders altogether.
A military force rivaling many great sects.
Yet despite that, the Hao Clan was despised in the martial world.
Too many leaders, no unity—just like too many captains steering a ship onto land.
Scorned by orthodox sects, Gimun’s leader Ha Soran finally made a bold decision.
She persuaded the other five Guanne-do leaders to form a Centennial Plan.
Its core was simple:
—Take in children of Guanne-do, raise them as pillars of the Hao Clan, and use them to unify the Hao across all ten provinces.
Snorting at the driver’s optimism, Dan Bulwi sneered,
“Hmph! Who said uniting the Hao makes us like the Beggar’s Sect? Painting stripes on a pumpkin doesn’t make it a watermelon. The Beggar’s Sect has martial arts of a whole different level. You think the Five Peaks Sword Sect or the Green Forest will respect us? More likely they’ll be glad we’re easier to use.”
“But the six Guanne-do leaders have gathered manuals in Mun Mountain. Who knows? Maybe one of these children will grow into a mighty master.”
“Ha! Foolish dream. You can study all the market-stall manuals you want and never rise above third-rate. Uproot a radish and bury it in the mountains—it won’t turn into ginseng. Believe me, I’m living proof.”
“…”
The driver couldn’t argue.
In truth, the real reason the Hao Clan was looked down on was their poor martial arts.
When even a shopboy leader could be beaten in broad daylight by a Beggar’s Sect disciple, what more proof was needed?
With neither man speaking further, only the rumble of wagon wheels filled the road.
