Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Espionage Squad (3)
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Cheonwi crossed the Xi'an bridge and headed toward the outskirts of Taiyuan city's urban district.
He made no effort to hide himself.
His upper garment was missing its right sleeve entirely, with the stump wrapped in plain white cloth fully visible. His pace wasn't particularly fast.
Noon was already approaching.
The market street was in chaos.
It was hardly surprising. All of Taiyuan had been noisy throughout the night.
Even in the city center, several people had died, and the number of injured was far greater.
Cheonwi cut straight through the middle of the bustling market in his disheveled state. Countless eyes fixed upon him.
Before long, he entered a shop.
It was a general store dealing in fairly decent handicrafts, small furniture, boxes, and the like.
"I'm here to look at a sword case."
The shopkeeper's face had gone pale the moment Cheonwi stepped inside. Taiyuan was a place where clashes between martial artists were common enough, but having a blood-soaked warrior walk into one's cramped shop as a customer was an entirely different matter from watching a fight from afar.
While the shopkeeper trembled, Cheonwi quickly scanned the wares.
Plenty of people would be looking for him. He didn't have much time.
On a shelf stacked with wooden crates, he spotted a long sword case. It looked wide and long enough.
He reached out with his left hand, hooking his fingers on the edge of the shelf.
"Ah! You can't pull that out like that!"
The shopkeeper startled and hurried over to help.
But Cheonwi effortlessly pulled out the three-foot-long case with one hand and held it aloft using just his fingers.
"Uh, uh.... Um...."
The case was nearly a foot high and even wider.
Even a grown man would need to spread his arms somewhat to support it properly. Long enough to hold three longswords, or even larger weapons like a greatsword or monk's spade, it was no lightweight.
"This one will do."
"But... how is your wrist that strong...."
"First time seeing a martial artist?"
Cheonwi shifted the case to the table in front of the shopkeeper's spot without a wobble, using one hand. The shopkeeper shook his head vigorously.
"No, I mean... this isn't a light item...."
"How much?"
"Pardon?"
"Don't we need to settle up?"
"Y-You're going to pay?"
Martial artists were terrifying.
Ordinary folk could only submit even to outright robbery. At the word "pay," the shopkeeper's face lit up.
"Let's tally it quickly. I'm in a hurry."
"Th-This is made of elmwood, and it has carved decorations, so the price is a bit...."
"Will you store items too?"
"St-Store? We do storage...."
"Will you?"
In Cheonwi's outstretched hand sat three hefty silver ingots.
Seeing them, the shopkeeper answered promptly.
"Y-Yes, we will."
Cheonwi handed over the ingots and flung open the case lid.
The space inside was ample.
He placed the cloth bundle he had been carrying slung over his shoulder like a satchel into the case. The shopkeeper scurried back to his spot and began weighing the silver on his scale.
Cheonwi unwrapped the cloth. Inside, naturally, was his right arm. With his left hand, he drew the Golden Dao a fraction and nicked his finger.
Drops of blood fell, soaking into the severed end of the arm. A faint red glow briefly infused the purplish flesh. The fingers even twitched.
A sudden sharp pain stabbed at the stump on his shoulder.
It was an utterly bizarre sensation.
It felt as if the sensations from the arm inside the case were transmitting to his detached body. Similar to what he'd felt in the cave, yet slightly different.
Though it was unmistakably his own flesh, it seemed like an independent living being.
The thought was fleeting, but it carried profound insight. If he could make good use of this, he might accomplish things ordinary warriors couldn't even imagine.
Cheonwi rewrapped the arm in the cloth.
He had no idea how long a severed body part could last without further blood supply. This was a chance to test its limits.
If it necrotized beyond reattachment, so be it.
Out in the jianghu, meeting a strong foe and losing an arm was commonplace. There was no rule saying it couldn't happen to him.
He unbelted the Golden Dao and placed it inside the case. Feeling it press against the arm, he slid the sword to the bottom and laid the arm on top.
He closed the lid and glanced up.
His eyes met the shopkeeper's. Having verified the ingots' weight, the man's mouth was stretched in a grin from ear to ear.
"I didn't see a thing."
The shopkeeper spoke first.
Either he was quick on the uptake and pretending despite seeing something, or he truly hadn't seen.
Cheonwi judged the latter.
If he knew Cheonwi's right arm was in that case, he couldn't be smiling like that. To Cheonwi's superhuman senses, the man's grin was utterly genuine.
"Keep not seeing."
Cheonwi said.
At that moment, he didn't yet realize a strange resonance laced his voice.
The shopkeeper replied with a dazed expression, his smile frozen midway.
"Yes, indeed."
Cheonwi only sensed that the response was excessively compliant.
He left the shop immediately.
The contents of that case held value beyond any treasure. Not just his own body part, but the Golden Dao, his clan's treasured blade. Leaving them in the shop of a total stranger was far from ideal.
But what choice was there?
He couldn't contact the Espionage Squad right now. The main house's support personnel had likely withdrawn from the city, and the resident Taiyuan forces were out on covert operations cleaning up last night's mess. He had no desire to expose the Espionage Squad under the bright sun.
Passing a few more street stalls, he entered a clothier's.
He'd walked the streets in this state to draw attention quickly, but this was excessive. He'd already garnered plenty of notice from fellow jianghu folk.
"This one will do."
He bought a black silk robe. The sleeves were narrow-cut. Dangling empty, they'd clearly show a missing arm. Perfect. A vivid red floral embroidery adorned one side of the chest—exactly his taste.
Changing into it made a world of difference. Just swapping one garment turned a blood-drenched killer into a gambling den dandy.
Cheonwi scanned the shop and picked out a red hero's sash. He called the shopkeeper over.
"Tie this around this arm for me, would you?"
The clothier, who had trembled at first, now felt calmer seeing Cheonwi transformed in his own shop's silk. He hurried over and knotted the red sash securely around Cheonwi's left upper arm.
"Thanks. Not used to it yet—lost the arm recently."
The shopkeeper's face drained of color again.
Casually saying such a thing was frightening in itself.
"N-No need to thank me, sir! It's the least I could do. Of course, absolutely."
The shopkeeper bowed and scraped like he'd committed some offense, even stammering.
"Ring these up too."
Cheonwi grabbed a plain black martial robe from one side and a neatly folded bundle of white hemp cloth beside it.
The shopkeeper took them and, catching on, packed them into a satchel.
Cheonwi pulled two silver ingots from his bosom.
The shopkeeper refused the payment.
"Oh, no, sir. I can't take money."
He shook his head and waved his hands emphatically.
Cheonwi took a step forward. The shopkeeper flinched back. Cheonwi's brows furrowed slightly. He set the ingots on the shopkeeper's table.
"Do business like that, and you'll go bankrupt. Always charge martial artists."
Cheonwi turned and left.
Behind him, the shopkeeper's voice sank low.
"That's not the world we live in, sir."
The quiet words resonated far more than his voice. The shopkeeper continued.
"And those clothes are worth far less than the silver you gave. Take one ingot back, and I'll return the rest as change."
It wasn't just the shopkeeper's honesty.
No matter how generous he seemed, a martial artist was a martial artist.
Overcharge once for clothes, and who knew what retribution might come later. He feared repercussions.
"Call it settling all the times you didn't charge."
Cheonwi stepped out the door.
Shopkeepers varied in temperament and experience.
This clothier couldn't smile even after pocketing the money. As he slotted the ingots into his money chest, his face filled only with unease.
* * *
"You must have much to tell me."
Danmun asked Yeom Seoksan in a voice soft as if he'd become a different person.
Yeom Seoksan wasn't surprised by the change.
In the world he'd come from, such people abounded. The human mind naturally held multiple layers. Even "madmen" weren't called "mad bastards."
To Yeom Seoksan, Danmun was a bit unusual but closer to normal than pathologically fractured personalities.
"What do you most want to know?"
"Who are they?"
"The masked ones?"
"Yes."
"Members of the Demon Mask Union."
"Never heard of them."
"You wouldn't have. That's normal."
Yeom Seoksan paused briefly.
They had arrived at the Peng family safe house in Jinyuan District, southern Taiyuan. Jung-gwang had mobilized two from Heaven-Destroying Squad and sixteen from Guardian Squad, relentlessly searching without rest to secure the scattered Espionage Squad members.
Cheonwi and the Five Tigers were missing.
Danmun wasn't one to hole up in a safe house under normal circumstances, but now he had no choice. He was the only central figure left for the Espionage Squad. Fundamentally a counterintelligence unit rather than combat troops, they could fight alongside in crises, but once stabilized, they needed a commander at base to lead agents, gather, and process intelligence.
"The Demon Mask Union is ancient. Tracing to its origins takes us back not just to the Tang-Song era, but even to the Han Empire—far earlier. Setting aside how ancient descent rituals differed vastly from today, it's no recently formed group. Even considering its modern form, we speak in centuries, not decades."
Danmun scratched his red wig.
Yeom Seoksan could tell this calm recounting was a jianghu secret, top-priority intelligence even for the Espionage Squad's records.