Cheongryeon Mountain Phalanx
In the pitch-black room. My body sinks into the light of the same color as the chamber, just as always.
Battlefield intel replays in my mind. First, the numbers. Wave 65. The highest wave summoned so far was Nakan's Wave 57. Back then—or even Garkan before it—the monsters weren't impossible to fell.
Of course, difficulty varies by battlefield, and Nakan had that off-spec outlier, Kiara, to boot. Still, no room for complacency. The half-crumbling walls and shattered front lines could be waiting to greet me...
"Welcome."
The familiar floating sensation ends, and before I even open my eyes, a heavy baritone rumbles in my ears. At least I wasn't dropped into the thick of combat.
My vision clears, and the first thing I see is a white-haired elder. His snow-like locks are neatly tied up, matched by a flowing beard of the exact same shade. He fits that cavernous voice to perfection.
Behind him loom a few Chinese-style pavilions. Farther back stretches a mountain of jagged rocks, like massive boulders hammered into place. Cheongryeon Mountain Phalanx.
And Jin Hwi. Even her name screams wuxia.
I vaguely recall a wuxia-esque stage in Fortress of the End—super rare, the kind old-timer players shelled out premium for accounts to experience...
"Greetings... Ber... Berg... Ahem. Bae Daehyeop."
From behind the elder emerges a girl with dark green hair in a ponytail, clad in loose martial robes. She fumbles my name, opting for "Bae Daehyeop" instead.
...This really is a wuxia world straight out of a painting.
"You're the commander?" I ask the elder.
"This one is."
His expression blank, he nods toward the girl to his left.
"It's me!"
Cheongryeon's commander eyes me primly. Figures. An elder commander out of nowhere would've been too abrupt. I half-expected it after the greeting.
"Ahem! I am Jin Hwi, leading the Cheongryeon Mountain Phalanx. Or rather... in a symbolic position, you might say. Something like that."
She clasps her hands in a formal fist salute, introducing herself properly. Then tacks on unasked details.
I get the picture. Wuxia's rigid hierarchies. Picked as commander by chance, but tangled in senior brothers, sects, and convoluted lineages—puppet leader vibes. Like a regent?
Why are all these commanders women, anyway? Rosalyn was one too, but it doesn't seem merit-based.
...I'm smart.
Yeah, sure you are.
"This may feel unfamiliar to you. Allow me to explain."
The white-haired elder speaks up, noting my bemused look.
According to him, this world is dotted with clans and sects that form alliances to purge the jianghu's villains... Tedious exposition follows.
A nightmare worldbuilding for outsiders unfamiliar with the genre. But for me, a wuxia novel vet? Pure cliché, no sweat.
"Too arcane?"
"...Not really. I get it. All of it. The wave intel."
"Haha! A true sword-wielding ronin must! Explain it to him, Hwi-ya."
The elder booms with laughter, his face transforming from blade-sharp to jovial.
Ronin...? Mercenaries, I suppose.
"Yes, Master!"
The green-ponytailed girl meets my gaze confidently.
"The enemy forces are dragoons, Daehyeop. Nothing our Cheongryeon martial artists can't handle... but the real issue lies elsewhere. An elite beast with a title has appeared."
Title. Familiar term for elite monsters by now.
"...It's called the Thunder Dragon Mugyeok."
Hwi hesitates, glancing sideways as she continues.
"The gall of it... calling itself Mugyeok before me... you worm-ridden wretch..."
Ah.
I catch the mutter right in front of me. A peek shows veins bulging on the elder's forehead. She's minding him, clearly.
Whatever sets off the old coot.
For now: the wave. Specifically, the dragon.
"No need to call me for a flying monster."
Aerial types scream for mages or ranged...
"Gal!"
The muttering elder suddenly bellows at me. Still fuming?
...Gal?
"Time granted to man is scarce even to pursue the sword to the heavens... and yet you cling to left-path side-doors? I'm disappointed!"
...Left-path side-doors? My mind reels.
What nonsense is this? Just a wuxia-skinned Karnat...?
Suddenly, I miss Moroz's snowy fields and cold logic.
Anyway.
How does this geezer know me to be "disappointed"?
"Ah... haha, well... Master dislikes guns? Magic? That sort of thing... Don't worry. Mugyeok's probably just a big, strong dragoon. No mythical dragon from legends."
"...Right."
Hwi whispers, calming her master.
I don't buy it, kid. That's how it always goes in my experience—say that, and the opposite pops out.
Plus, a walking tank named Thunder Dragon? No way.
Here's hoping.
Sky Step gets me airborne anyway. Moroz grind paid off with Aero Step too.
Dragon, bat—ground unit to me either way.
You call me?
...Answering to bat talk?
...Didn't call then...
Sigh. Grumpy squad leader here, idiot there. Merc life stays eventful.
Anyway.
"When does the wave start?"
"One shichen remains, Daehyeop."
Shichen...?
"Can you... give times in hours?"
"Pardon...?"
"Never mind."
"Heh heh! Hwi-ya, get used to it. They use 'hours' in the world beyond the heavens. Half a shichen. Berga, two hours till wave start. Need anything?"
The elder strokes Hwi's hair fondly.
World beyond the heavens? He explains casually, like he's in the know.
"...A dagger, if you would."
Questions aside, claim what's due.
Past armor buys, I planned local weapons. Feels like plans'll go sideways—stock spares. Wuxia means newbie gear rules.
The elder eyes my waist sourly.
"Tch. Already wearing a prized blade and still unsatisfied... Now I see: proper pretty-boy flower prince. Bane of maidens... Hwi-ya, beware such men always."
"Pardon, Master...?"
...Senile?
I start to protest his ravings, but—
"Perfect. Fetch Mukya."
"Pardon...? Mukya?"
His words stop me cold.
Mukya? Cheongryeon's treasure?
"Assassins in Cheongryeon? Who uses a knife barely five cun long? Weapons under heaven are much alike—curb your greed, Hwi-ya."
Scolding her, he glances at me again.
"Even twenty Mukya couldn't outshine that thing at his waist."
That good, huh? Never cared beyond familiar grip, good edge, no blood stick.
Still.
His "under heaven" phrasing rings... off.
"Here it is."
A man in blue martial robes hands me a black-lacquered case.
Inside: a stunning dagger with an obsidian blade, box-like sheath.
"Mukya. Fine for a sidearm."
More nonsense... I ignore the elder's prattle, gripping Mukya.
Lighter than my usual, but sticks nicely to the hand.
"Thanks. I'll put it to good use."
"One of Cheongryeon's treasures. May it aid in slaying Mugyeok."
The blue-robed man bows with a fist salute.
"Not Mugyeok! You fool! Thunder Dragon!"
Senile coot blows up over Mugyeok again.
"...Time. Let's go."
"Tch. Understood. Hwi-ya, I'll stick with him. You command Cheongryeon's martial artists."
"Yes, Master!"
How a little girl wrangles these burly guys? Doubtful. But she's commander.
Purpose of summoning me: probably Mugyeok.
The elder and I pass a few pavilions to the mountain gate.
Towering gatehouse, high walls. Not quite battlements, but close.
Silent, the elder leaps into the air, landing atop the tiled roof in one bound.
That vibe.
A short run-up, and I'm beside him effortlessly. No sound, no shake.
"Light on your feet. Assassin, eh?"
"Assassin... something like that."
He tilts his head at my words, then frowns deeply.
"But how old are you to speak so curtly? Short blades' fault? Or assassin training? I've heard: assassins orphaned young, locked in darkness for brutal regimens..."
"My apologies, elder."
"Good."
His forehead wrinkles ease from four to two.
"Called to slay the Thunder Dragon, but no time for play. Contributions matter to me too."
Contributions...?
I doubt my ears. Why would a Cheongryeon local mention that... Unless.
His Mugyeok rage, "disappointment" at me.
World beyond the heavens. Weapons under heaven.
"You're a merc? No—Mugyeok Geomcheon?"
"Curt again, boy. Never speak that shameful tag before Hwi. That square window let me pick any title, so..."
As I open my mouth—
The Thunder Dragon Mugyeok pokes its massive head from the portal.
...It's flying.
Knew it.