There's No Peaceful Merchant Journey (3)
“The Eighteen Light Division Swords is the secret sword art of the extinct Diancang Sect! It may pale compared to the Four Seasons Sword Art, hailed as the greatest rising martial art... but it's still an incredible technique!”
“Thanks, Hye-ryeong Wiki.”
Ah, slip of the tongue.
“Huh? What did you just say?”
“Nothing.”
So the Diancang Sect really had a sword art like that. But why was Merchant Myeong carrying it, and what grudge did he have with that middle-aged man wielding the greatsword that made him block the road? From the way they were talking, it sounded like Merchant Myeong had pulled some kind of betrayal...
For now, I should stop worrying about it. I pushed the thoughts aside and observed the martial artists descending from the trees one by one.
They didn't seem like assassins—just ordinary martial artists. Judging by the sabers they carried, they were probably saber users.
I'd never faced Central Plains saber techniques before, so I wasn't sure what to expect. They didn't look as threatening as the Mamluks, though...
I decided to play defensively for now. It would be better to gauge their saber techniques first before going on the offensive.
“Planning to spill blood?”
“That bastard stole the manual that rightfully belongs to us! And he left my sworn brother to die!”
Their cries were filled with grief and thick with killing intent. The same murderous glares came from the martial artists surrounding us. They stared at Merchant Myeong as if they wanted to tear him apart right then and there.
I couldn't see Merchant Myeong's expression from my position, but he was probably terrified. No one could face death without fear.
“Hand him over! This matter has nothing to do with you!”
Getting tangled in someone else's grudge was the last thing I wanted. The wisest approach would be to talk things out, determine right from wrong, and then act—but would that even be possible?
They already saw Merchant Myeong as their mortal enemy.
I glanced at Elder Baek and Ha Jin. Both wore troubled expressions. In the martial world, personal grudges were a domain outsiders found difficult to interfere with. A third party meddling recklessly would only make things look ugly. If I got involved and ended up creating new enmities, it would be a real headache.
The most reliable response in this situation was...
“Hero. I understand your grudge runs deep, but we have a duty to protect Merchant Myeong as his friends. However, we have no desire to fight you or your subordinates. Why not settle this with words first? If your claims are reasonable, we won't interfere.”
“Hero Lim?”
From afar came Merchant Myeong's bewildered shout. In the Central Plains, where connections ruled everything, most people would blindly side with him. But Ha Jin showed no intention of abandoning chivalry.
With our strength, dealing with that man and his martial artists wouldn't be difficult. But that would be the same as treating them as obstacles to be eliminated without question—the kind of thing demonic practitioners would do. It wasn't a choice the Haenam Sword Sect could make. If word got out, their sect's honor would be dragged through the mud.
Fortunately, the greatsword-wielding man seemed to find Ha Jin's argument reasonable.
“Why should I listen to you?”
“We are martial artists of the Haenam Sword Sect. I swear on my sect's honor that we will judge this matter fairly and impartially. Will that not suffice?”
He was coming on strong.
“From what I know, that despicable traitor has dealings with the Haenam Sword Sect! Can you truly set aside personal ties and judge right from wrong?”
“That is...”
Ha Jin hesitated at the man's counterattack. Blood is thicker than water, and the greatsword-wielding martial artist was pointing out the favoritism rampant in the Central Plains martial world. How could someone connected to Merchant Myeong judge the matter fairly? Before logic even came into play, convincing these killing-intent-filled martial artists would be difficult.
So it was my turn to step in.
“Hey.”
“And who the hell are you... a barbarian?”
“If you can't trust the Haenam Sword Sect, then I'll judge right from wrong for you.”
I stepped forward with my longsword still sheathed. Naturally, everyone's eyes turned to me—expressions mixed with bewilderment, surprise, and curiosity.
I stopped about ten paces from the man with the greatsword resting on his shoulder. He couldn't hide his confusion as I approached.
“A barbarian? A barbarian who speaks the Central Plains tongue?”
“I'm not affiliated with the Haenam Sword Sect, and I'm only traveling with this merchant because our paths happen to align. That makes me the most suitable person to act as judge here, doesn't it?”
Technically I was close to being part of the Haenam Sword Sect, but there was no need to reveal that now. It would only complicate things further.
“Hah...”
“You know it too. Even with a grudge involved, do you really think you stand a chance? These people are Haenam Sword Sect martial artists, and while I don't know about you, the others don't seem particularly skilled.”
“Martial prowess doesn't always decide life and death.”
“But it can help predict the odds of victory.”
Our eyes met. Noticing the confusion in his gaze at my unexpected presence, I clasped my hands in greeting before he could speak.
“I am William Marshall, a wanderer who crossed the western regions to reach the Central Plains. I happened to join this merchant caravan on my way to Hubei.”
“...I am Cheol Mu-ryeong, sect leader of the Falling Sun Sect, an affiliate of the Diancang Sect.”
He returned the greeting, apparently feeling he couldn't refuse after my introduction. The Falling Sun Sect, an affiliate of Diancang. Pride in his sect was evident in his voice. Even though the Diancang Sect had been wiped out, its affiliate sects had carried on the lineage.
“The Falling Sun Sect, I've heard of it. Famous for inheriting the Falling Sun Saber Art among the Diancang techniques. Could you demonstrate the Sun-Brewing Qi?”
Without a word, Cheol Mu-ryeong released his internal energy. A yellow glow flowed from his body—warm, like sunlight. There was none of the usual sinister feeling.
“It really is them...”
Fortunately, it matched the sect Elder Baek knew. That confirmed his identity to some extent. Time to hear the story.
“What happened between you and Merchant Myeong?”
At my question, he finally began explaining the events between them.
“We've been searching for the lost martial arts of the Diancang Sect for a long time. As descendants of the extinct sect, our goal was to rebuild our school. That shameless bastard approached us. He told us about the hidden chamber containing the Eighteen Light Division Swords and proposed a deal—let's raid it together.”
Raiding it together... Since he couldn't do it alone, he'd used the Eighteen Light Division Swords as bait to lure in the Falling Sun Sect. At least he'd chosen his target well. Though things had gone wrong.
“We managed to break through the traps in the hidden chamber and secure the manual. But the moment we gathered the manual and the treasures... the chamber began to collapse. We moved quickly to escape. My younger brother Mun-yeong carried the Eighteen Light Division Swords in his robes while supporting that man as they ran.”
“But ironically, the chamber's traps separated us from him. We were trapped on the inner side. Then we heard Mun-yeong's screams... It seemed he'd been caught in a trap. We don't know what happened after that. But when we luckily found an escape route from the collapsed chamber... there was no one left. I spent several days digging through the ruins and found Mun-yeong's body...”
“...It was in a horrific state.”
He began breathing heavily, as if recalling his brother's gruesome appearance. His eyes were bloodshot and glistening with moisture, looking as if he might fall into demonic possession—or qi deviation—at any moment.
“...So that's what happened. Merchant Myeong, can you explain yourself?”
“It was an unfortunate accident! He saved me and got crushed under a boulder... Half his body was pinned, there was nothing I could do! So I had no choice but to take only the manual!”
“Then! You should have handed over the manual to us! My brother sacrificed himself to save you! Even knowing we'd returned, you pretended not to notice and secretly took it to sell to another sect! Did you think we wouldn't find out!”
“It was a misunderstanding! I didn't know you had returned alive! If I had known, I would have given you the manual!”
I glanced at Merchant Myeong. He was drenched in cold sweat, staring at Cheol Mu-ryeong with a panicked expression. He'd been hit where it hurt. His reaction suggested that even if the details weren't clear, he'd definitely betrayed them. Otherwise, he wouldn't be this flustered.
Well, as a merchant, he couldn't help but covet the Eighteen Light Division Swords. Auctioning it off would fetch an enormous sum.
“Lies from a forked tongue! We even went to your house! But you lied and said you couldn't recover the manual! Then how do you explain why the manual that should have been with my brother disappeared!”
Was it time for the final judgment? I looked at Merchant Myeong and spoke.
“If what he says is true, then you have an obligation to hand over the Eighteen Light Division Swords to Hero Cheol.”
“Hero Wi! Are you really going to believe that man's words!”
“Then do you have a way to prove your innocence?”
“That is...”
Just as the situation was reaching its conclusion—
“Elder! Sir! There are other martial artists appearing behind us!”
What?
How had things come to this? I found myself staring at Merchant Myeong. So were the others.
“No! I didn't call them!”
“Then...”
Had one of Merchant Myeong's subordinates been a spy for another faction? Information was leaking like a sieve.
I shifted slightly to the side and observed the newly arrived group. One, two, three, four... nearly fifty of them. Far too many.
“The Eighteen Light Division Swords will be taken by our Golden Shadow Sect!”
Who the hell were these guys now? I turned to Cheol Mu-ryeong with a suggestion.
“Let's deal with them first, then continue our conversation.”
We needed to handle these intruders before we could determine the truth. The sound of swords being drawn echoed from all directions.
“Agreed.”
What a mess. What an absolute mess. I drew my sword from its scabbard.