Chapter 851. Planning (1)
A feeling of disconnect washed over Lee Seong-Hwi.
Maybe "disconnect" wasn't the correct term to describe what he felt right now. After all, it was something much more bizarre than that, like the feeling of eery weightlessness while levitating in the air. Lee Seong-Hwi wasn't literary enough to find a suitable way to express this feeling.
'I don't belong in this place.'
He wasn't quite sure how he ended up attending this shindig.
This place... It wasn't where martial artists like him risked their lives to fight and win. Although Lee Seong-Hwi had become something else and couldn't really call himself a martial artist anymore, he still didn't belong here.
A tense quietness one could cut with a knife flowed in the chamber.
This atmosphere wasn't the source of Lee Seong-Hwi's discomfort, though. Things like the antiquated tatami floor or the sight of a screen obscuring the seat of honor like a scene from a movie... He didn't mind any of these things.
What made him uncomfortable was the man sitting on Lee Seong-Hwi's opposite side. Or, more correctly, his hand.
Lee Seong-Hwi could only see four fingers. A spot where a person's pinkie should be... was empty. Just clean air. And that was what made him uncomfortable.
He already knew the Japanese loved to do bizarre things before coming here. He also heard that one of the ways the Japanese warriors took responsibility for their blunders was to cut off one of their fingers.
'What a bunch of idiots.'
It wasn't as if Lee Seong-Hwi held Yubitsume, the finger-severing ritual, in contempt. The Korean patriotic martyrs also cut their fingers off to prove their will and commitment in the past, after all.
However, what differentiated the Koreans from the Japanese was that... The Koreans didn't cut people's fingers off as punishment for simple mistakes!
To call it a cultural difference... Lee Seong-Hwi found it way too barbaric for his liking. Besides, no modern Japanese in the surface world adhered to this so-called culture, anyway. Only the Yakuza or other trash of society still exercised this tradition in this day and age.
So, Lee Seong-Hwi was uncomfortable with the fact that such a barbaric tradition was still alive and kicking in this place of martial artists.
'Besides, that man is...'
...Nakata Yuji!
He was the head of the Yamakawa-kai. In other words, a big fish in Japan.
Being the head of a sect or a clan didn't automatically mean you were a big fish. However, there was no doubt that Nakata Yuji was one. The influence he wielded on the Japanese martial arts society was undeniable.
Yet, someone like that was missing a finger.
Gulp.
Lee Seong-Hwi unwittingly swallowed his saliva. Didn't it mean the individual behind the screen was a much bigger fish? Someone scary enough to order Nakata Yuji to cut his finger off?
A slight chuckle almost leaked out of Lee Seong-Hwi unconsciously.
'Hah. Did I get nervous just now?'
What an idiot he was. What did it matter to him if the man behind the screen was a big fish in Japan?
Lee Seong-Hwi suddenly found several things in this situation rather funny.
He found it funny that he'd change his attitude depending on who he was talking to... Even though he was supposed to be a desperate man who swore to throw his life away in order to destroy Kang Jin-Ho.
It was also funny that he berated the Japanese as barbaric idiots for cutting their fingers off, then thinking about the Korean martyrs who risked their lives for the independence of their mother nation. Funny, because he thought of all these things with his corrupted mind!
What would those martyrs think of Lee Seong-Hwi? They would definitely spit on him. Curse at him. In that case, what qualifications did Lee Seong-Hwi have to insult the Japanese or anyone else, for that matter? He should be insulting himself first instead!
While Lee Seong-Hwi was stewing in self-hatred...
"Mm..." Kim Seok-Il raised his voice and broke this weighty silence. "First of all, please accept my apologies for showing you such an unsightly scene. Also, I apologize for not offering you a proper greeting."
"No, no need," said the figure behind the screen in an aged voice.
Lee Seong-Hwi didn't speak Japanese, so he could only roughly guess the contents.
"So... Have you come to us with a message from the Crimson King's faction?"
Kim Seok-Il slowly nodded. "Yes, I am."
"The Crimson King's faction, is it...?"
A weighty silence descended in this antiquated room. No one dared to break it for a while.
Eventually, the man behind the screen raised his voice first. "The Chinese shouldn't have a reason to aid us, so why?"
Kim Seok-Il replied, "Isn't it because the enemy of my enemy is a friend?"
"What a cliched thing to say. An enemy of my enemy is still an enemy. No such thing as friends exists in our world."
"Mm... Wise words, indeed. However, even if being friends is a stretch, we can still form alliances. As long as our goals align, joining hands temporarily should seriously be considered," said Kim Seok-Il without a moment's hesitation.
The figure behind the screen shifted his attention. "Nakata Yuji!"
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