Chapter 11. Jang Ho

Dong Bong-su ultimately decided not to kill them. That thought could change again, but at least for now, he judged that there was no need to kill them outright.

Whether Do Pal-du and the thugs knew or not that their lives had, in an instant, crossed the threshold of the underworld and come back again, they kept walking forward without a care.

They led Dong Bong-su all the way to the end of the alley, to a completely secluded corner. This was a place that people had rarely visited even in the past. In times like these, there was no way anyone would come here.

Smack.

Once he was sure there was no one around, Do Pal-du suddenly swung his hand and slapped Dong Bong-su across the face.

The bastard’s palm was large and broad, like the paw of a beast. Unless one was a Murim person, there was no way to endure a blow from such a hand.

With a crisp sound of flesh colliding, Dong Bong-su was sent sprawling long across the ground.

Before taking money, this kind of beating was a customary ritual among thugs.

For bottom-feeding punks, acts of violence like this were one of life’s pleasures, no less than stealing and spending money.

For lives at rock bottom, preying on and tormenting even lower basement-dwellers was a fleeting amusement in their foul-smelling existence.

For those on the receiving end, it was something to shed tears of blood over, but for human refuse like them, violence?

It was a source of vitality in life.

Thud, thump-thump.

Dong Bong-su silently endured the group beating from Do Pal-du and the other thugs. However, even as he lay facedown on the ground, his eyes were shining white. If Do Pal-du had seen those eyes, he would have wet himself—or never again thought of extorting money from Dong Bong-su.

Those were not human eyes. Nor were they the murderous eyes of apex predators like lions or tigers.

They were simply void—eyes devoid of any emotion.

Anyone who wonders why emotionless eyes are frightening says so only because they have never faced such eyes.

All living beings have emotions. Especially, they are extremely sensitive to pain.

Yet Dong Bong-su looked like someone who felt no emotion at all—particularly not pain.

Imagine eyes utterly unmoved while blood pours out in streams. Few could meet such a gaze without feeling anything.

Thud, thump...

The violence of the thug gang seemed like it would never end. Their kicking finally stopped only after someone’s voice rang out.

“What do you think you’re doing right now?”

It was a heavy voice. Dong Bong-su, still lying prone, lifted his head and looked toward where the voice came from. A man in his thirties, dressed in black, was standing there. With his solid build, at first glance he looked like just another thug.