Chapter 55: The Way to Borrow a Sword (3)
“A secret? Madam Yang, what on earth do you mean?”
In response to U Myeong-hwan's question, Yang Do-hwa replied.
“There are secrets of the Murim that even you, the sect leader, don't know.”
Her face was a mess—mascara streaked with tears, blush smeared across her cheeks. It made her words sound all the more absurd.
“Madam Yang, no matter how you put it, I have no intention of killing Jang Cheon.”
At that, Yang Do-hwa uttered something utterly unexpected.
“Why do you think my husband wiped out the Jang Sword Clan in the first place?”
“What are you trying to say?”
The heads of Korea's two great sects had no idea why the Lord of Gwang-sa-mun had massacred the Jang Sword Clan.
It had happened just days before Gwang-sa-mun itself was annihilated. They'd tried to investigate afterward, but turned up nothing.
In truth, the Lord of Gwang-sa-mun had always been hot-tempered and prideful, so the massacre hadn't seemed all that shocking.
They'd simply assumed he'd been provoked somehow.
“I only learned the truth after he was dead.”
Yang Do-hwa rose from her seat, leaving words laced with certainty in her wake.
“Kill Jang Cheon. I guarantee you'll regret letting this secret slip away.”
U Myeong-hwan let out a soft sigh as he watched her retreating figure slip through the door.
Once she was gone, he called out toward the hall.
“Cheong-ah, come in.”
Seo Mal-cheong, U Myeong-hwan's disciple who had been waiting outside, entered the room.
“You called for me?”
“Send surveillance experts to monitor Madam Yang's every move.”
“Understood.”
As Seo Mal-cheong turned to leave after receiving the order, he paused and asked,
“But what do you think the secret she mentioned is?”
Unless specifically instructed otherwise, Seo Mal-cheong listened in on all conversations in his master's chambers. U Myeong-hwan trusted him that much.
“A secret of the Murim? As if such a thing exists.”
Besides, it had been fourteen years—no, fifteen now that the year had turned—since the clan's annihilation. The idea of a secret surfacing now was ridiculous.
“When people are cornered, they'll say anything. Go on.”
“Yes.”
After Seo Mal-cheong left, U Myeong-hwan gazed out the window.
Spring was coming.
But the wind blowing in wasn't a gentle spring breeze—it was a choking, pitch-black dust storm that blotted out the sky.
S stared at his computer screen.
It was information on Gwang-sa-mun, classified as top secret—beyond his clearance level.
He left the room immediately, took the elevator in the hallway down to the basement.
Jeong Yeong-gi was at the underground shooting range.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
S waited by the side until Jeong Yeong-gi finished his round of shooting.
Jeong Yeong-gi removed his noise-canceling earplugs and noticed S standing there.
“Director.”
“Judging by your face, I should say this first—I'm holding a gun right now.”
But S pressed on regardless, speaking loudly.
“About Gwang-sa-mun...”
Jeong Yeong-gi raised a hand to silence him, then pressed the mic button nearby.
“Give us the room for a bit. I'll grab a coffee and be back.”
“Yes, sir.”
The range attendant stepped out.
S bowed his head.
“Sorry.”
“I know you're not that sorry. Go on with what you were saying.”
“Please grant me access to the Gwang-sa-mun files.”
“Why?”
“I just want to see them.”
“Suddenly?”
S let out a light sigh.
“James Hwang is missing. Did you know?”
“Yeah, I saw it on the news.”
“Swept away by a typhoon, right? That's the story?”
For a world-class master like James Hwang to vanish without a trace was absurd. S was certain it had something to do with Jang Cheon.
“Please let me see the Gwang-sa-mun files. I'm begging you.”
If he couldn't learn about what happened after Jang Cheon left the country, he'd dig into the past instead.
“Sorry, but even I can't access those.”
“What?”
S was stunned.
“There's material even you can't see, Director?”
“There is.”
“Then how high up do you have to go?”
“Very high.”
Fine. Bureaucratic red tape he could understand—so Gwang-sa-mun info was off-limits. But James Hwang's disappearance made no sense.
“Up to now, Jang Cheon has only killed villains. If James Hwang fell to him, does that mean he was a villain too?”
The world bi-mu champion, a Murim star who starred in movies and commercials, a supposed supreme master—calling him a villain was impossible to believe.
His disappearance was even harder to swallow.
“Like I said, I don't know.”
Of course, Jeong Yeong-gi didn't know. S had always covered for him. Jeong Yeong-gi hadn't contacted Jang Cheon since their last meeting.
Still, S figured he might know something.
“Director!”
“But if it really was a typhoon... then yeah, he must've been a villain.”
The words carried unshakeable faith in Jang Cheon.
“Alright, let's say you're right. Unless James Hwang was about to assault a high school girl right in front of Jang Cheon, he must've belonged to some organization.”
“Likely.”
“If there's an organization that could count a powerhouse like James Hwang among its ranks, shouldn't we take them down?”
“On what charges? Do we even know who they are?”
“We should form a special task force. Digging would turn up something.”
“What if one of the task force agents is a member of the suspect's fan cafe?”
S fell silent. He knew it wasn't a reprimand. It was a warning about the organization's vast reach—and its unpredictability.
“This organization, the two great sects, the assassin cartel... and Jang Cheon right in the middle.”
“You heard what Typhoon said to me too, right? Take a long vacation, go travel far away. Honestly, when I heard that, I was tempted.
I thought the favor I'd done long ago had come back as an even greater one. Might even save my life.
Yeah, let's take this chance to rest. But do you know why I didn't leave?”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because someone needs to wrap things up. After Typhoon sweeps through, somebody has to clear the debris, right? Oh, don't misunderstand.
I'm not saying I'll side with Jang Cheon no matter what. Just like fifteen years ago, I'll follow my conscience.”
S said,
“To me, that sounds like you're siding with Jang Cheon unconditionally. Why do you trust him so much? Wasn't it just a brief encounter back then?
Fine, say he was a good guy then. What about now? You don't even know what kind of person he is anymore.”
“True, I don't.”
“Then why trust him?”
Jeong Yeong-gi gave a wry smile.
“How many decisions in life do we make with full knowledge? We just go by feel.”
“Sigh.”
“Wanna take vacation together? Couples trip.”
S finally chuckled despite himself.
“Did I get married without realizing it?”
S was still single.
Jeong Yeong-gi smiled and put his earplugs back in.
“Join a different fan cafe.”
“Love doesn't change that easily.”
“But you said love is about moving forward?”
“Whoa, ancient meme.”
As Jeong Yeong-gi aimed at the target, S put on his earplugs too.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Jang Cheon walked down a corridor long enough for a 100-meter dash.
The walls, floor, and ceiling were all painted stark white, pockmarked with countless holes of varying sizes. Anyone with claustrophobia couldn't have passed through.
They were launch ports for trap mechanisms. Short swords, arrows, bullets—even poison needles or gas—could fire from them.
From every surface. So many that even a master couldn't dodge them all.
At the end of that eerie hallway stood a single door.
Etched on it were ancient characters, indecipherable. At a glance, they resembled geometric patterns.
Jang Cheon approached slowly and stopped before the door.
Up close, he saw the ancient script wasn't carved into the door—it was a puzzle affixed to it, pieces that could be rearranged to solve.
He sensed it instinctively. Solve it right, and the door would open. Wrong, and those holes would unleash a barrage of deadly projectiles.
Jang Cheon reached slowly for the puzzle.
Click!
The moment the first piece shifted, Jang Cheon's eyes snapped open. He'd dozed off while leaning back in bed, listening to Geum Sa-cheon's recording.
He turned off the MP3 player, sat cross-legged on the floor, and cultivated Sohyeon Ilgi-gong.
As his internal energy completed a full circuit, an exclamation escaped Jang Cheon's lips.
“Ah!”
The movement of his internal energy and the dantian's response felt entirely different. Sohyeon Ilgi-gong had advanced to the 3rd Stage.
Since first deciphering Geum Sa-cheon's oral formula, he'd cultivated without fail every single day.
If he'd devoted all his original cultivation time to it, he'd have reached the 4th Stage by now—but that wasn't feasible.
Even so, training once or twice daily without fail stemmed from Jang Cheon's innate genius, an instinct that this art was not to be abandoned.
“Hahaha.”
Jang Cheon laughed heartily.
Advancing in martial prowess was always a joy. He savored the moment fully.
This was a privilege earned through effort. Knowing how to relish it made future labors less burdensome.
Breaking past the 2nd Stage had taken considerable time. Without some epiphany or fortuitous encounter, the 3rd would be the same.
All that remained was diligent, daily practice.
Fortunately, Jang Cheon wasn't one to tire easily of cultivation.
Genius often came with a flaw: an inability to endure repetition compared to ordinary folk.
Jang Cheon lacked that weakness. He was a genius with the tenacity of an ox.
As he sipped liquor, basking in his joy, a call came from Bishop.
He reviewed the data Bishop had sent.
Surface-level size, numbers of direct and outer disciples, publicly known martial prowess and forces, scale and count of businesses under direct or indirect control.
What caught Jang Cheon's eye was the relationship between Dae Jeong San Jang and Gangnam-il-mun.
That single line brimmed with confidence. Bishop's mood lifted instantly.
Bishop asked cautiously,
Since leaving Korea, Jang Cheon had encountered every manner of evil across the world. In that time, he'd gained insights. This was one of them.
When darkness gathers, wait.
Forcing light upon it only unites the shadows to devour it. Wait instead—until they turn on each other.