On the Cliff Path (1)
Seo Baek and Wang Yi Sam had already traversed a cliff path once before.
While carrying out a commission for the Sichuan Tang Clan on their way to Shu Dao Pass, their carriage had exploded midway, obliterating the road. They’d been forced to backtrack along the cliff path that Yu So Un had taken.
That cliff path had been wide enough for a single carriage to pass.
A sheer thousand-foot drop yawned right beside it, but as long as one didn’t miss a step, there was no danger of falling.
However, the new cliff path that Shaolin had reportedly constructed was on another level entirely.
The path before them had been carved diagonally into the face of a sheer rock wall, with stone steps hewn into it.
The stairs stretched endlessly upward, following the wall that pierced the heavens like a dagger.
Reaching the end would truly be like walking above the clouds!
Even martial artists with exceptional lightness skills found narrow cliff paths challenging.
But this one demanded something even more essential than lightness skill.
Courage.
Anyone lacking it would succumb to vertigo before even setting foot on the path, collapsing or wetting themselves in terror.
Wang Yi Sam had blanched at the mere mention of a cliff path.
Staring at the absurd stairs clinging to the thousand-foot abyss, he spat on the ground in disbelief and growled.
“Damn it, fine! A real man dies once—why fear it twice?”
Once resolved, Wang Yi Sam bellowed with newfound bravado.
“No time to waste. Let’s climb!”
Seo Baek smiled faintly at the sight.
“He’s the type who schemes endlessly in everyday matters but charges headlong into danger without a second thought when the moment comes.”
“You’ve got him pegged.”
Seo Baek nodded in agreement with Song Hyeon’s assessment.
“A man’s true nature reveals itself at death’s door. Even the righteous sects falter, unable to unleash their full potential under fear’s grip. In these times, a brave heart is worth more than any martial art.”
“Senior Wang’s faced death countless times from Sichuan to here without flinching.”
“Indeed.”
If Wang Yi Sam had overheard, he’d have puffed up with pride. But his low internal energy kept the words from reaching him.
The search party began the ascent.
The steps were barely wide enough for one person, so they proceeded single file.
The roughly hewn stairs proved surprisingly grippy.
Overcoming the terror of the abyss mere inches away made it perfectly walkable.
The real issue lay at the rock wall’s edge.
Where the wall face ended, so did the stairs.
Instead, new steps led upward in the opposite direction from those they’d climbed.
The path zigzagged like the character for “zhi”, bending left and right as it ascended.
Above each terminating section, a metal rod was embedded in the wall—a foothold to reach the next set of stairs.
The party crossed one by one, stepping onto the rods.
Should one give way, it meant certain death into the abyss.
When Wang Yi Sam’s turn came, he swallowed hard.
“Tch, staking my life on that puny rod?”
But with Joo Eun-ri watching haughtily from behind, he grumbled and climbed up.
The path twisted directions several more times.
After the time it took to eat a meal, the stairs finally ended, and the search party reached the rock wall’s summit.
“It’s a straight ridge from here.”
As Gil Sang-baek said, the top flattened into a long, spine-like ridge stretching straight ahead, like the backbone of some massive beast.
The party resumed along the ridge.
Compared to the spine-chilling stairs, it felt like strolling on flat ground.
But relaxation was impossible. Thick fog shrouded their feet like clouds, visibility limited to a mere zhang ahead.
Straying left or right meant plummeting into the abyss, stairs or ridge alike.
Another meal’s worth of time passed on the ridge.
Suddenly, Seo Baek halted.
“What’s wrong, junior?”
“Shh.”
Seo Baek ignored Wang Yi Sam’s question, tilting his head toward the foggy abyss and listening intently.
His pause drew Gil Sang-baek from the lead, who turned back.
“What is it?”
“I hear voices. People.”
“People? Not a revenant horde?”
Gil Sang-baek frowned.
“Fall from this ridge, and the ground below swarms with revenants. It’s probably their howls echoing off the walls.”
But Seo Baek shook his head.
“No, not revenants—living people. Could be the Shaolin monks our search party’s after.”
“……”
The Underground Hall warriors’ faces twisted at a mere boy—not even thirty—contradicting their leader.
Seo Baek drew a deep breath, then addressed the fog beyond.
“Who’s there?”
His voice was calm, like a whisper in the ear, yet it pierced the mist, echoing across the entire ridge.
An internal energy level unbelievable for such a youth. The Underground Hall men, already wary of him, exchanged startled glances.
A voice soon replied from the fog.
“……This humble monk is Jin-mun of Shaolin. Is that the Underground Hall over there?”
The warriors jolted again. Just as Seo Baek had claimed, a living person lurked in the mist.
And not just anyone—the very Shaolin monk they sought…….
Had Seo Baek not pointed it out, they’d have passed by oblivious.
Stung by the embarrassment, the warriors fell silent, listening as Seo Baek conversed with the Shaolin monk.
“This is the Underground Hall search party. Why have you stopped?”
“……We have injured refugees here. And the rope bridge to the opposite ridge is severed—we’re stranded.”
The brief explanation painted the picture clearly.
Seo Baek turned to Gil Sang-baek.
“Is there a rope bridge nearby?”
“At the ridge’s end, one spans to the facing cliff wall. Sturdy ropes—hard to believe they snapped.”
Gil Sang-baek now eyed Gang Pyo.
“How long to repair it?”
“Not easy. To reconnect, we’d descend the cliff path to the ground, circle around……”
“Hmm……”
Gil Sang-baek crossed his arms, deep in thought.
Without peak-level lightness skill like Lingkong Xudao, leaping the gap was impossible. Hence the bridge.
But repairing it meant descending to the revenant-infested ground below.
It would take considerable time—and any losses to the horde would be devastating.
Seo Baek pointed into the fog.
“Isn’t there a cliff wall over there?”
He indicated not toward Jin-mun’s voice, but a diagonal direction.
“Indeed. How did you know?”
“From the echoes.”
Echoes. Sound rebounding off obstacles.
Seo Baek had gauged another cliff hidden in the fog from how his own voice reverberated—beyond Jin-mun’s position.
He proposed next.
“Do you have rope to make a new bridge?”
“Of course. But anchoring pillars into the cliffs and spanning it……impossible right now.”
“I’ll connect the rope across.”
“How?”
“Climb the nearby wall to the Shaolin side.”
“……”
Gil Sang-baek’s doubt lingered, but he ordered his men to hand over the rope. Even the clan head and warriors looked baffled.
Wang Yi Sam scratched his head.
“I trust you, junior, but……no clear path, huh?”
“Why not trust fully once you’ve started?”
“Urk.”
Wang Yi Sam shut his mouth at Joo Eun-ri’s firm words.
Only Song Hyeon grasped Seo Baek’s intent.
He crouched, picking up two small pebbles, then called into the fog.
“I am Song Hyeon, formerly of Qingwei Escort Agency.”
“Amitabha. I’ve heard of you.”
Jin-mun replied. Song Hyeon pinched a pebble between thumb and middle finger, then flicked it toward the voice.
Peeing.
The pebble shot straight, piercing the fog.
One Underground Hall warrior muttered.
“That’s……Tanzhi Shentong?”
Tanzhi Shentong—Shaolin’s famed finger-flick technique hurling hidden weapons or force.
Song Hyeon shook his head.
“I’ve long admired Shaolin arts, but never set foot in their halls.”
Just a casual flick—not the true technique.
Yet that made it more astonishing.
A random pebble, flung without form, flew straight as an arrow—no arc.
Proof of unfathomable internal energy.
As Seo Baek and Song Hyeon exceeded expectations, Gil Sang-baek and his men’s gazes turned icy.
Rare masters……
Murim folk couldn’t help feeling awe—and distance—upon encountering true experts. Like a fox who fancied itself king of the woods meeting a tiger.
Soon, the pebble hit its mark. Song Hyeon told Seo Baek.
“Quite the distance. Direct leap to the monk’s side is impossible.”
“Figured as much.”
Song Hyeon flicked the second pebble—not toward Jin-mun, but the diagonal direction Seo Baek had indicated.
Peeing. Thud.
Closer this time—the impact against the cliff echoed.
“Wall’s slick with night dew or moss.”
“Bear hide, untanned, under my soles.”
The warriors instinctively glanced at Seo Baek’s feet. Rough, crude leather boots—grippy, slip-resistant.
Seo Baek coiled rope around his waist, handing the other end to the Underground Hall men, slinging the spare coil over his shoulder.
“I’m counting on you.”
“……Got it.”
The four warriors gulped, nodding. Only now realizing Seo Baek meant to scale the wall across.
Gil Sang-baek caught on too.
“That greatsword’s heavy for wall-climbing. Leave it?”
“No—I’ll use it as a brace.”
“……”
Gil Sang-baek didn’t comprehend and stepped back.
Wang Yi Sam did, recalling the past.
When the carriage exploded en route to Shu Dao Pass, collapsing the path—Seo Baek had saved him from falling that way.
“Junior, you’re not planning to use that method again?”
“Of course.”
“Too risky, isn’t it?”
“Come on, senior—what’s with the doubt? You know my skills.”
“True, but……”
“I’ll be back soon.”
Seo Baek flashed a grin at Wang Yi Sam, then turned. His expression hardened instantly.
Whoosh. Seo Baek launched into the fog.