Invincible Teacher Chapter 82
83 Chapter 82
Byeok Ae-rin then spoke up, "That's why when the students were in the process of doing their public service, I took the opportunity to look around the village. I was able to find the place where the smell was emanating from."
She was indeed the former head of Jimilgak, and someone who had served Kang-hyuk for the past fifty years.
Byeok Ae-rin raised her hand and pointed towards a certain place.
"Shall we go now?"
It was the long-standing practice of making two dogs fight against one another. The spectators found the act entertaining, and it was a type of pastime.
Dogs weren't the only animals sacrificed in the act though.
People's enjoyment of dog-fighting increased since money was also involved, but the issue was that the act in itself had no moral standing.
Unfortunately, it wasn't outlawed by the authorities. Therefore, it kept running.
However, there was something that was prohibited- a blood fight involving humans.
The people that partook in blood fights were usually forcefully kidnapped, and known as blood fighting slaves.
Many died a cruel death as the fights didn't stop until a person bled to death.
To eradicate this immoral act, the government authorities had requested assistance from the Hwacheon Clan.
Following this, the Clan had launched a large-scale clean-up operation of these blood fights, and thereafter, most blood fighting venues had disappeared out of existence.
Unfortunately, the roots of dark matters are usually tenacious.
The village was quite rich, owing to its large fertile farmlands, and its location being on the path of travellers.
Therefore, it contained many extensive and large buildings.
But if one looked closely, between those buildings was a shabby, nameless pub that was out of place amongst its more grandiose surroundings.
The door opened.
Two men entered the pub.
"Please come in!"
The pub attendant rushed over towards the two men.
"What can I get for you?"
One of the two men answered him.
"Four cups of azalea wine, and three cups of red wine."
"Ah! I can't give that to you here! Follow me!"
At the attendant's response, the two men followed him, as though they expected his reply. Their order was a kind of code.
They then followed the attendant to a small room in a basement.
"Please give me your identity tag."
The body language and speech of the attendant had changed. The two men took something out of their sleeves and presented it to him.
The tag was made of oiled paper, and both tags had identical black plum blossoms painted onto them.
After having confirmed the identity tags, the attendant opened a door that connected to the basement room, and bowed politely soon after.
"Please have a good time!"
The two men walked through the door.
There wasn't just one door. There weren't two either.
There was a total of five doors, each of which was guarded by guards who only let the two men through once they saw the black plum blossom tag.
As the men went through the fifth and final door, they cried out at the sight.
The place was a blood fight venue.
Despite the practice being banned, there was money to be made, which equated to pleasure.
"I'm going to bet all of my money today!"
"Yes! That's it! Kill him in one blow!"
The shouts of the spectators filled the space. The reason as to why these sounds couldn't be heard from the outside wasn't because of the five doors that led to the space, but it was because of an artefact.
The owner of the blood fighting arena had exchanged a small fortune for a noise-blocking artefact, and this was why his business had continued to thrive for so long.
"He's won again!"
"Isn't this his eighty seventh victory in a row?"
The voice of the fight commentator rang out.
"Shortly coming on again will be the man who has won eighty seven fights in a row, Blood Ghost! Anyone who hasn't put their bets in should do so right now!"
The two men, and the other spectators present, immediately placed their bets on the man.
Thanks to this particular blood fighting slave known as the Blood Ghost, the owner of the venue was making a huge profit.
The man looked relatively normal.
The platform he stood upon was surrounded by barbed wire to prevent him from escaping. He was wearing earth-coloured trousers.
His entire torso was covered in scars, while his hair was short and unkempt.
Blood was flowing down from his hands. Clutched in his fist was his opponent's heart, a heart that he had personally pulled out.
He clenched his jaw.
'Don't forgive me! Curse me!'
A furious energy emanated from him as he silently begged for forgiveness from the man he had just killed.
The fury wasn't directed towards his opponent.
It was towards the spectators who bet their money and fueled the business, the people who had captured and sold him here, as well as the owner of the venue.
He let out a breath, trying to soothe his anger.
The owner had promised him his freedom if he won a hundred fights in a row, but he didn't believe his words.
"Hey! Blood Ghost! Go back to your place!"
A warrior of the venue owner shouted out at him. The man stepped of the stage in response and returned into a cage made of iron.
There was no such thing as freedom for him. The same went for other blood fight slaves.
No matter how much profit they brought in, their lives were unchanging.
He heard the chanting of the spectators, ready for the next fight to begin.
Even in the hopeless situation he was in, he couldn't give up hope. He had to find his younger sister, who had been sold elsewhere.
He could only listen, keeping his ears open to information, waiting for the chance of freedom.
From what he had heard thus far, the reason why the venue was still open was because of the power of the venue owner.
There were rumours that he had connections within the government. His hopes were slowly fading away.
His ears suddenly perked up.
"The Hwacheon Academy?"
"Yeah. A teacher of the academy brought the students to the village to do some sort of public service."
"What kind of service?"
"I heard they picked bugs out of the barley field."
"What? No way! Don't joke around!"
"It's true! They picked all of the bugs off the crops starting from the chief Pyeong's land, then all of the land around there."
"It must be true then."
"Anyway, I heard that the venue wasn't going to open today because of them, but I guess they opened because of that Blood Ghost!"
"No wonder. They opened later than usual. Now that I think about it, why is the owner afraid of something like that? I've heard he has some skilled warriors beside him?"
"The thing isan elder of the Clan came with them!"
"An elder of the Hwacheon Clan? Well then, that is something to be afraid of."
Blood Ghost's eyes shone as he listened to their conversation.
'An elder of the Clan is in this village?'
He clenched his fists.
It was late into the night.
Blood Ghost opened his eyes as he crouched within his small iron cage.
The owner of the venue made a huge amount of profit due to his eighty eighth victory, and so, he had given his employees a bonus by providing them with extra food and alcohol.
The warrior guarding Blood Ghost's cage was fast asleep after having consumed so much food and alcohol.
In actuality, Blood Ghost was pretending to sleep.
His only chance was now.
His experience told him that there was a high possibility that the other warriors around the venue would be drunk.
He didn't know when he could encounter such a chance once more. He knew that there was a potential of him dying before he could escape.
He took out a key that he had kept hidden. It was a key he had stolen and kept for the right opportunity.
He opened the door of the cage he had been kept in with the key.
The rusty door creaked a little as he opened it, but since the guarding warrior was in deep sleep, he didn't notice.
Blood Ghost carefully emerged out of the cage.
He couldn't leave the warrior alive.
Blood Ghost's entire fighting career had been weaponless, he had always fought with his bare hands.
Blood fighting had always been fought using ordinary people, without the use of weaponry.
Therefore, the method of killing an opponent within a short period of time was now second nature to him.
The warrior, who was guarding him, did have martial ability, but a lower level of ability.
In addition, the man was drunk, so his skill level was effectively the same as that of an ordinary man.
After Blood Ghost had broken the warrior's neck, he removed his clothing, wearing the warrior's clothes himself.
His own 'clothing' couldn't really be regarded as clothing.
He then hung the warrior's sword onto his own waist. He needed a weapon to protect himself.
'Now, the problem is that door, isn't it?'
He looked at the door in front of him.
It was a passageway that connected the underground basement to the aboveground pub, but from what he had heard, there were a total of five doors to pass through.
He picked up a cloth that came into sight and wrapped it around his face, making a mask out of it.
Now, all he needed was luck.
He needed all the luck he could hold onto until he met the Hwacheon Academy teacher he had heard of or the Clan Elder.
'Gods of heaven and earth! You can use all of my remaining luck, but please help me! If you can't use my luck, then I'll put my life at stake! Please make it so that I can find my younger sister!'
He silently prayed, then opened the first door.
The rusty hinge of the door squeaked as he opened it, walking through it with all the courage he could muster up.
Fortunately, the warrior guarding the door was drunk, therefore he was able to pass through without any issues.
The warriors of the next four doors were surprisingly in the same condition as well.
They also weren't expecting a blood fight slave to emerge with such confidence.
His heart was pounding, but Blood Ghost opened the last door that connected to the first floor with confidence.
The door led to a pub.
"Hahahaha! I knew Blood Ghost would win!"
"Damn it! I lost!"
"It's okay, hurry and drink up and forget all of it! I'll treat you with a barrel of wine today!"
"I won't refuse that offer!"
There were people sitting in groups of two and three in the pub, drinking while discussing the fights of the night.
He was slightly startled at the repeated mention of his name, but didn't display any outward surprise, quietly leaving the inn.
No one stopped him.
It had been a while since he had last felt the fresh breeze of the outdoors. He had spent the last three years underground.
The clear breeze released the nervousness he had been holding within him.
A warrior was calling him from behind. Blood Ghost's hairs were standing on end as the warrior approached him.
"You should greet your seniors!"
"It's okay. Be more careful next time."
But just as Blood Ghost was about to breathe a sigh of relief and get moving once more
The warrior placed his hand on Blood Ghost's shoulders.
"Wait a second!"
The warrior tilted his head to the side as he looked at Blood Ghost's robes.
"There's blood coming out of your robe. If you're bleeding that much, there must have been a serious situation, but I haven't received any such news. On top of that, you haven't received any treatment."
Disaster had struck.
The wound he had received during the fight had become an issue. It had stopped bleeding after he had received mild treatment, but the wound seemed to have opened up again as he began to move.
The warrior tugged at his robe.
Branded on the back of his neck was the character for dog.
It meant that he was a blood fighting slave.
"Well, well, well. So you're a fugitive, eh?"
The warrior unsheathed his sword, and pointed it towards Blood Ghost.
'How could it all end up in vain?!'
Blood Ghost closed his eyes. He was sure that he was going to die. There wasn't a chance that an escaped blood fighting slave wouldn't be killed.
But he couldn't just die like this.
In a moment, he unsheathed the sword hanging upon his own waist, and thrusted it towards the warrior.
Somehow, the sword had embedded into the warrior's chest. But for some reason, he didn't consider pulling the sword out, and instead concentrated on running away.
The warrior thrusted his weapon through the air despite having been stabbed.
Blood Ghost clenched his jaw as he felt an intense pain running through his back.
He had no time for hesitation. He simply began to run.