Deep Fire 1: Hearsay That Parts Life from Death
In the murim world, hearsay can sometimes divide life from death. Whether you know who the person you first meet is or not. What their martial arts and personality are like, their weaknesses and hobbies, their past and scars. A single word can turn a battle into nothing. You can negotiate your way out of a day that would end in loss. Even in a crisis where death seems inevitable, a small stratagem can save your skin. That's what hearsay means in the jianghu.
Thus, everyone strives to broaden their knowledge. How much more so for the Sacheon Dang Family, always named among the Five Great Families of the world?
Dang So-young recalled the books she had memorized until she was sick of them. Record of Famous People in Jianghu, Hundred Great Figures of Murim......
"I think I've read about him in a book. Um... There was this young guy who gave off a dangerous vibe. They said he carried a weird spear split into three prongs on his back, right?"
There was a peculiar wanderer in Hobuk. A man who wielded the exotic weapon known as the Three-Pronged Spear. At just over thirty, he had crushed the Whirlwind Sword Ghost to make his debut in murim, then slain the infamous black path broker, Flying Sword Ghost. His spear, forged from White Lotus Pure Steel, was sharp and deadly. And above all, with a single technique, he shattered his enemy's weapon to pieces.
Three-Pronged Coin Ghost Yi Pil-do. A peerless master discussed as super first-rate despite his youth. His most famous exploit—the one where money could buy anything—was the extermination of the elusive thief, Dark Moon Flower. For that, he pursued her relentlessly for over a year.
"Well, that guy's from Hobuk, but this is Sacheon."
"No. It's the man you suspect."
The enemy was desperate. Dark deeds couldn't be exposed. The families lived lives apart from the immortals of the orthodox Nine Great Sects floating above the clouds or the rough-and-tumble guests of fighting schools. They cloaked everything in justification and righteousness. Those who commanded wealth, land, and private soldiers had many eyes to watch. So the truth his disciple held couldn't spread outside. Absolutely not. They would guard against their enemies too.
"So, I helped, right?"
As quiet hostility simmered, cheerful air cut in. Turning his head, he saw a tiny face a full handspan shorter. Why did she remind him of a fox? Not sly or clever, just an innocent fox kit.
"Quick, I helped, didn't I?"
"......"
He knew something was waiting, but Jang Cheon wasn't one to insist black was white. So he nodded.
Dang So-young extended her hand.
"What is it."
"It's a Western custom. They say clasping hands like this is good. It stimulates your meridians and helps your health too."
Jang Cheon reluctantly offered his hand. Then Dang So-young went further.
"Buy me a gift later too."
But.
"Go home."
"Already?"
Jang Cheon spoke. Not entirely to shake off this brazen girl. He continued softly.
"Nothing good will come of watching. And it's not something you need to see. You already suspect as much."
"St-still, I'm prepared..."
"Can you take responsibility for that preparation?"
Both knew without saying. One was a runaway girl. She yearned for freedom and left home, but the chains on her heart didn't vanish. The other was a warrior pursuing his foe. The righteous path and chivalry weren't filled with flowers and justice. If it was mere longing, if she just wanted a short taste of adventure, it was best to end it here. Jang Cheon knew that. What was about to unfold wasn't the heroic tales from books and folk stories.
"You have a home."
"You keep saying that..."
"Having a home means you can't bear the responsibility alone. So go. Prepare only what you can answer for."
"Don't say it like that."
"......"
Dang So-young bowed her head. The girl knew it too. It wasn't wrong. Still, her drifting heart—the first taste of true freedom, the thrill of aiding a true wanderer—drowned in sorrow. For the first time since birth, she understood.
"Still..."
"Don't belittle your own efforts."
That comfort came from the man's voice too.
"Chivalry has no great or small. Helping another has no great or small. Today, you helped me, and I won't forget it. That's the proper responsibility, the natural way. You, Dang So-young, aided me with chivalry and righteousness, and I will surely repay that spirit."
The sob rising in her throat halted. The girl's head lifted. Staring at that resolute face, Dang So-young realized something. He was so tall. She'd have to stand on tiptoe to meet his eyes. For the first time.
"Yes."
"That's enough."
".......Yes."
Two affirmations. Jang Cheon noticed the second, but the first? Probably not. But for now, it was fine. A girl's heart doesn't always need to be fully conveyed to matter. He'd learned that from this man too. Because she couldn't follow him right now. She watched his receding steps from afar, unable to chase. And in a few days, she'd have to return to the Dang family compound. The runaway girl hated to admit it, but she knew.
"I'm such a weakling."
Her steps were heavy. But Jang Cheon had already taken deep root in Dang So-young's heart.
"I want to get stronger......"
Like him. She wanted to become an adult. A strong, steadfast adult...... She'd become one. She would. And somehow, she'd help more. The girl vowed deeply.
*
Seongdo's streets, Jinhua Road. Turn off from the north gate and walk a good ways. A place busier in winter than elsewhere. Small, shabby houses twisted like a maze, paths cluttered with shacks and beggars. Yet at the end of all that chaos lay Seongdo's most dazzling boulevard.
Jinhua Avenue was a fortress without night. A street lit till dawn. Laughter, shouts, screams, and moans never ceased. Amid thick smoke, it sold pleasure—the great road of sin.
These past few months, a young man making quite a name here. He threw around money from who-knows-where, staggering drunk every night, switching brothels daily in wild revelry. With his thick Hobuk accent, he never revealed his name. So he was simply Young Master Yi.
"So you came looking for me?"
Young Master Yi was at Taepyeong House today. A modest brothel on the edge of Jinhua Avenue, no place to host a noble like him. But he switched spots daily, so he ended up here sometimes.
"Yes."
And strangely, he never refused company. Especially with unknown women—he always invited them to join. Yet he never followed through to bedding them, making him quite the eccentric.
"Fine. There's a decent room on this floor. Drink with me?"
"......"
The man in black martial robes looked suspicious from every angle. Young Master Yi didn't care. Half-drunk, he staggered up, tossing a fat money pouch to the madam without forgetting. No visitors today.
"Well, this is pretty comfy, eh? Spacious, clean, nice. Rare for a place like this."
"I hear you frequent brothels."
"Yeah. Been playing flower prince on luck I never had for half a year now. Pick up all sorts of knowledge."
He plopped down first with a thud. Actually, he'd reserved this room today. His personal items were scattered: a small bundle, a long pole against the wall, the table piled with unidentified bamboo slips and books.
Young Master Yi didn't miss the man's gaze flicking over them. Glug glug—the glasses filled. Fine liquor. Seongdo gathered all Sichuan's wealth; even precious Shaoxing huangjiu was common here. The sharp aroma thickened.
"What brings you."
Young Master Yi gulped down a mouthful. Weak to booze? His face flushed quick. The man just stared at his own glass. Then broke the silence.
"They say you're after money."
"Money! Best thing ever. The more, the better. You got some?"
"No."
"Too bad."
Young Master Yi grinned.
"A hundred gold nyang, and I'd let you walk out alive today."
The man glanced at the pole against the wall.
"Room's cramped. That okay there?"
"Hm, good point. But can't toss out an old friend over tight space. Made some preparations."
"Like poison in the wine."
"Of course."
The man seemed to see through him, but Young Master Yi wasn't surprised. His flush had another cause.
"Gas poison from incense. I took the antidote already. And I heard fun news from my friends. Killed someone recently? Brutally too. Don't know where you're from, expert or not......"
"......"
"Your techniques are all outdated. Stuff from old books, long past prime."
Young Master Yi had gotten that report. From his hired scouts. Ridiculous archaic martial arts, immense inner power. Likely some unknown prisoner from the Cheon Family Manor's underground. It happened sometimes. Martial arts didn't evolve evenly across jianghu. While prestigious families taught refined, cutting-edge secrets, others studied century-old theories even with genius. Easy to counter.
"Oh dear. Shocked? Me too. Just found out who today."
"Won't be."
"Wanna see a show then?"
Slowly, Young Master Yi took up the pole. Unwrapping the end revealed a ferocious spearhead. He wasn't stupid. He'd heard of scouts poking around. But he'd let them lead here—because he wanted it.
"I trained special arts honing my nose. Can distinguish scents a hundred li away, old from deep. Chased this smell half a year."
He pulled a small cloth from his bosom. Only then did he see the man's eyes waver. The cloth was crusted thick with bloodstains. Once soaked through, clearly. And embroidered with a peculiar pattern.
Fragments of memory flooded the man's mind.
Camellia. A childish, crooked camellia stitched in clumsy hands.
"Same scent on you. Reason for that?"
"......"
The man closed his eyes. Young Master Yi's smile deepened.
"Tell me everything you know about Cheon Sohyang. No pain that way."
Clearly, advantage shown. Yi Pil-do had done all he could. The man offered no resistance. Deadly poison unbearable even ten paces, his familiar turf, countered arts, even his exotic weapon. Ideal conditions.
Time dragged, suffocating. As boredom settled in Yi Pil-do's gaze, Jang Cheon finally shattered the long silence.
"My tongue's not as long as yours, so one thing only."
"Hm? Fine. What first? I like where Cheon Sohyang is now."
The young wanderer had strengths aplenty. Brilliant martial arts, vast knowledge, tenacious pursuit. Patience too. Unyielding obsession ranked highest. But he'd never learned the deadliest lesson. What did carelessness mean in the jianghu?
"Arrogance beyond measure is reason for death."
The time Jang Cheon should have died poisoned had long passed.