The Silver Scale Stockade
In a thicket along the riverbank, some fifty li south of Danpung County, Jegal Mun-Hyeon and Mujin peered through the branches at a cluster of huts set a short distance back from the water.
The place was packed with men.
Half-naked louts with their collars flung open, weapons resting within easy reach—river pirates, no question about it.
The Black Cat Faction’s scouts had done their job properly.
According to the marks on their map, this was the Silver Scale Stockade.
Mun-Hyeon had never heard of it. He’d been dead sixty years; pirate dens changed names the way men changed shirts. Every time a new overlord of the Yangtze took the throne, or some fresh cutthroat seized a stockade, the place got rechristened. Still, the intel looked solid. Wooden cages stood crammed with captives.
“Whew. Lucky they haven’t sold them yet.”
“Sold them? You mean these men traffic in people?”
“That’s right.”
“How can anyone commit such an atrocity that makes both heaven and earth rage…?”
Mujin hissed the words under his breath, seething.
Heaven and earth rage? The boy had clearly grown up looking at the world through rose-colored glass.
Human trafficking was one of the most common ways the unorthodox made their coin across the Central Plains. Mun-Hyeon himself had been snatched as a child and sold to the Demonic Cult. Every year more children arrived at the training grounds by the same routes. The moment he became Cult Leader, that was the first thing he put a stop to.
Those bastards, deciding other people’s lives for them? How many kids die in those drills?
But it wasn’t only the Demonic Cult’s sin. Every clan with any reputation kept slaves—where did people think they all came from? Treason could land you in official servitude, true enough, but most of the people living as slaves had an ancestor somewhere who had been kidnapped and sold, then put down roots. The unorthodox side was worse. Women went to brothels, men to mines or back-breaking labor, children to shops as errand boys, and the old…
Damn it. If they decide someone’s useless, they just kill them.
Unsold captives were nothing but dead weight. Men who saw people only as money never wasted mercy on them.
Mun-Hyeon scanned the cages with a sharp eye. He couldn’t check every face, but he spotted a few of the elderly. The one he needed had better be among them. If not…
I’ll grind the lot of them into powder and drink them.
Childhood memories alone were enough to make him hate slavers and traffickers, but failing to achieve his goal was even less acceptable.
Teeth grinding, he first sized up the pirates stationed around the stockade. The scale of the place suggested it wasn’t one of the famous Eighteen Stockades of the Yangtze—more of a mid-tier den.
And around those wooden cages…
His nature screamed at him to charge in and smash every face he met, but charging blind would be stupid. If the pirates started butchering the captives out of spite, the whole trip would be wasted.
“Young Master, shouldn’t we report this soon?”
“Report what?”
“The Black Cat Faction business, and now raiding a stockade… Doing all this just between the two of us seems like it could cause problems. We’ve confirmed the location—why not link up with the branch martial artists first and then—”
Ridiculous. If some exhausted old man died of exhaustion while they waited for reinforcements, who would take the blame?
Mun-Hyeon shot Mujin a sideways look, then grinned.
“What, scared?”
“Scared? Of course not. That’s not what I—”
“We move now. They’ve been locked up a long time. I don’t know how much longer their strength will hold.”
He meant the old man, of course. Mujin, knowing none of the real reason, immediately felt ashamed.
This man… all he ever thinks about is the common folk.
“Be careful. River pirates aren’t like ordinary unorthodox martial artists. These bastards are already branded criminals—they’ve got nothing to lose. Doesn’t matter how strong you are; they just charge.”
“You know a lot about river pirates too?”
“Well…”
He’d fought them before. Those water-ghost sons of bitches. They could hold their breath so long he’d once created a technique just for fishing them out of the depths—the Water-Bottom Needle. No need to dive after them one by one. Just lace the water with hundreds of dense qi needles and everything—fish and men alike—would float up full of holes.
“Mujin.”
“Yes.”
“You attack first.”
“What?”
“Jump out and draw every eye. While they’re looking at you, I’ll free the people.”
“Understood.”
“All right. Go.”
“…Right now?”
“Do you need to prepare?”
“Not exactly, but I thought you’d at least give me a plan—where to approach from, which way to go…”
“Mujin.”
“Yes.”
“Today, you are the plan.”
“Hah!”
Mun-Hyeon clamped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and looked him full in the eyes, radiating absolute trust. Mujin’s jaw set; fire kindled in his gaze.
Trust. It mattered. A gentleman dies for the one who understands him—show a man you believe in him and he will walk into hell for you. The same light of fierce resolve now burned in Mujin’s eyes.
One more line would do it.
“Show them no mercy. They’re filthy river pirates who snatch people and sell them.”
“Understood.”
“Go. Shout it loud. Tell them I’m here! Tell them we’ve come to thrash every last pirate!”
“Yes, Young Master!”
Bolstered, Mujin strode out of the brush with renewed courage and bellowed:
“You scum! How dare you kidnap innocent people? I will not forgive your evil!”
The pirates lounging about, killing time with odd jobs, turned their heads. Not one of them looked startled. That was the kind of men they were.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I am Mujin, first-generation disciple of Wudang!”
Mujin announced himself clearly.
It changed nothing.
“A Wudang brat, all the way out here? You come alone?”
Even the name of Wudang left them unimpressed. They eyed him the way a man looks at a stray dog that wandered into the village.
“Boys, this one’s from Wudang.”
“What? Wudang?”
“Yeah. Says he came alone.”
“Hmm. Think a Taoist would sell?”
“Might be a novelty.”
“True, never sold a Taoist before.”
“Heh. He’s young—should fetch a decent price.”
Interest kindled; pirates began drifting toward Mujin one by one.
Now.
Every eye in the stockade was on him.
Mun-Hyeon kept low in the undergrowth and ghosted toward the wooden cages. Free the people first. Confirm whether a ninety-year-old man was among them.
Then a voice barked from the pirate ranks.
“What are you standing around for? A fresh-faced little Wudang Taoist came all this way to play with us. Entertain him.”
“Yes, sir!”
At the order of a man who looked to hold some rank, grinning pirates charged.
The name Wudang had bought him nothing; for a heartbeat Mujin looked rattled. Then he drew his sword.
“I will correct your wickedness and bring peace to the world!”
“Bullshit, you snot-nosed monk!”
One pirate kicked off the sandy ground and leapt high, crude great-saber whistling down with enough force to split a man in two. Mujin glanced up, then simply slid his feet. Long ago the Wudang masters, yearning for the immortals who tread the clouds, had created the Ladder Cloud Step. The saber slammed into empty earth.
“Huh?”
The pirate spun in surprise—and a streak of light carved him open from crown to crotch.
Blood sprayed like rain, soaking Mujin’s robes. The crimson light he had been suppressing flooded his eyes. Murderous intent boiled up; he vaulted forward and tore into the packed pirates. One sword stroke blossomed into a dozen variations; severed limbs and torsos flew in every direction.
“You little bastard!”
Yet the pirates did not flee. Poison-eyed, they hurled themselves at him. The fight turned into a pure free-for-all—no formations, no coordinated assault. The entire stockade rushed Mujin at once.
And in that chaos—
Shhk!
Mun-Hyeon reached the cages and quietly cut down the two guards. The captives, who had been staring at the sudden battle, flinched at the sudden spray of blood and turned to him.
“Shh.”
He pressed a finger to his lips, smiled, and scanned the faces inside. Old man… older man… the most wizened one of the lot…
Damn it. I should have at least asked for a name. I left with nothing but ‘ninety years old.’
“You’re the people kidnapped from Danpung County, correct?”
“Y-yes.”
“Who among you is ninety?”
“That would be me…”
A deeply wrinkled elder raised a cautious hand, watching Mun-Hyeon’s face for any sign of threat.
“Were you once of the Beggars’ Sect?”
“I was. How did you know…?”
“Ah…”
Tears nearly sprang to Mun-Hyeon’s eyes. Relief so sharp it almost hurt. After all the fretting, the old man was alive. Good. That was enough. Talk could wait.
“You can rest easy now, Elder—everyone here can. I’ll get you out.”
“Y-you’ll save us?”
“Yes.”
“Then… you have reinforcements coming?”
“….”
Reinforcements?
Mun-Hyeon blinked at them. The captives blinked back. So many pirates, and only two of them—one fighting, one freeing cages…
“Just the two of you?”
“Yes.”
“Ah…”
Hope drained from every face in the cage. Mun-Hyeon scowled.
These people… I understand the feeling, but is that any way to look at the men who came to rescue you?
At that moment—
KRAAANG!
A thunderous impact hurled Mujin backward out of the melee.
“What a racket… All this fuss over one little brat?”
A hulking man stepped through the pirates, a massive great-moon axe resting on his shoulder, face twisted with irritation.
“Well, well. Look at that—one of them’s over by the cages. Trying to free the goods, are you? You boys been out in the midsummer sun too long?”
Mujin, still skidding back, grimaced.
“Young Master Mun-Hyeon… I believe those are the stockade’s leaders. Their skill is no joke. Alone, I—”
Whatever faint hope remained on the captives’ faces guttered out completely.
Mun-Hyeon eyed the axe-man. Anyone who could send Mujin flying was no ordinary fighter, and the smirking men flanking him looked equally dangerous. Still—they were only river pirates. And Mujin was hiding something truly terrifying.
“Hmm. Mujin.”
“Yes?”
“Who said you had to do it alone?”
“I… well…”
“I told you, didn’t I? To see the stars, you have to walk through the dark.”
“But—”
Mujin looked helpless. Mun-Hyeon grinned and strolled up beside him.
“Now’s the time to walk through the dark.”
“What?”
“Keep your eyes forward. Don’t look back.”
“What do you m—”
A sudden searing jolt ran down Mujin’s spine. He froze.
The third seal… just opened?
“W-wait a momen—!”
Mujin’s eyes flew wide. He had no time to brace. The demonic qi sealed inside him erupted like a flood; he was swallowed before he could choke it down. Crimson light flooded his pupils until they blazed pure scarlet. Demonic energy poured from every pore and billowed outward.
The pirates recoiled at the sudden, murderous transformation. Mun-Hyeon only smiled wider, lips stretching ear to ear.
“Mujin. Sic ’em.”
And Mujin answered.
Grrrrrrrr!
Mind gone, howling like a beast—he looked utterly reliable.