Amyeong - 3: The Bamboo-Hatted Man at the Sima Clan
The man wearing a bamboo hat arrived at the Sima Clan when nearly three in the morning had passed.
As he passed through the main gate, he grumbled.
"Can't you ease up a bit? Why's the inspection suddenly so damn strict?"
He knew the clan head personally. He'd planned to slip in as usual, casually, but they held him for almost half a shichen. Once he learned that the Three Elders had been slain by a ferocious beast, it made some sense.
"Alright then."
"......The scene has been preserved. As per your instructions, the bodies... haven't been recovered yet."
"Yeah, yeah. You've all worked hard."
Reeking of liquor, he descended toward the warehouse. The entrance was so collapsed that even getting in was a struggle, forcing him to use void-grasping technique. But that was for the best. His opponent had supposedly cut down three Transformation Realm experts in a single stroke. Guessing from sloppy traces wouldn't yield much anyway.
As he slowly levitated debris to descend, a gruesome sight emerged.
"Whew."
A shattered altar. The obsidian altar, mined only from the deepest veins of Mount Pa, had been utterly demolished. Judging by the sword marks, it took just two strikes. One horizontal, one vertical. The vertical thrust had even scarred the ground.
The bamboo-hatted man tapped the sword mark with his foot.
"Thin, huh? Why so thin?"
Sword intent follows the shape of the weapon. A wide slash spreads diagonally; a thrust flies straight. Stroking his chin, the man briefly assumed a stance. How would he have done it?
"Standing about here, seeing something... and getting pissed enough to lose it."
He positioned himself before the altar. Swinging in a proper stance, he realized the angle didn't match. He had to stand diagonally, swing at an odd tilt. It was an emotional strike.
The man drew a very short wakizashi from his bosom. A rare weapon from peak experts, called a small tanto.
"Then like this."
He mimicked it. Swish, slash. Matching the sword form. It felt a bit off somehow. Maybe add some light-footwork power? Shrieeek!
"Whoa, whoa! Hold on!"
Boom! The instinctive full-power slash produced a similar result. Along with the minor issue of turning the already ruined site into total chaos.
......And, as a bonus, slicing Sima Hogyung's corpse into four pieces.
The man scratched his head awkwardly.
"Ah! You bastard Sangcheon! How dare you manipulate me with Transcendent Wheel Realm power!"
If the one called Sangcheon heard that, he'd feel deeply wronged. He'd never done such a thing.
Just then, voices from above—the Sima Clan members.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing! Nothing at all. Just part of the investigation!"
He tried futilely to restore the debris, then gave up. Brain-teasing work like this was for others. Comparing fragments, he let out a strange noise.
"Huh?"
His own accidental mark. And the beast's mark. The depths differed starkly. Same altar, and his own realm wasn't far off from the opponent's. This bruised his pride.
The man raised his blade again, eyeing it roughly.
"Deeper than expected? No. Even that wouldn't cut this deep."
Not frontal, but diagonal stance. A single explosive slash. To bury the sword this deep in that situation...
His expression grew serious. He infused qi into the wakizashi. Veins bulged on his well-developed arms, pale white light cloaking his flesh.
Still. Still not enough.
"More distance. I'm too close right now."
Sword intent weakens over distance. Back to the original spot. To match the power from the same range, only one answer.
The man ruptured his meridians, unleashing the slash.
"......For something this trivial?"
Irked by the vexing conclusion, he nudged Sima Hogyung's head with his foot. Suddenly, the man's sword strike visualized before his eyes. If he stood on that altar.
A single line slicing diagonally, filling the vision. Power unleashed with meridians ruptured. Impossible to stop or block. Instant death.
First sight, certain death.
"......"
Sweat trickled down his back. Unknowingly, faint light gleamed on his feet. Could a divine artifact's power evade it? White light spread from the tattoo on his left arm.
Calculations aligned.
"Whew."
The man adjusted his bamboo hat. Then quietly exited the clan grounds.
A Sima Clan elder, face etched with worry, asked.
"Did you uncover the beast's identity...?"
"Mm, yeah. Even I had a tough time."
"You worked hard. Baekgwang Juju. Then, that..."
"Ah. No beating around the bush, don't worry. The beast is none other than—"
The man said gravely.
"The Black-White Sword Ghost, without a doubt!"
With that, he vanished using sky-treading technique.
The Sima Clan elder stood frozen, then quietly raised a fist toward where Amyeong's Baekgwang Juju had disappeared, cursing under his breath.
Who doesn't know that?
*
Baekgwang Juju left the Sima Clan, wiping sweat from his brow. Tougher than expected. He'd thought rumors of one-shotting three Transformation Realm experts were exaggerated, but no.
Anyway, back to the inn for more drinks. Tracking the Black-White Sword Ghost could wait till tomorrow.
As he thought that, he noticed the fog thicker than usual today.
"Oh ho."
No. Not thicker fog. Something mingling in it, clinging damply.
He pulled a flask from his waist, downed half, then hurled it down the alley.
Whish, thud. The sound muffled. Not hitting ground.
The opponent was watching too. Pinpricks of killing intent stung his skin. At this realm, everyone knew. Visible in gait, gaze, physique. Peak First-Rate and Transformation Realm were worlds apart.
The lurker hadn't needed much effort to recognize him.
Baekgwang Juju spoke.
"How many shichen have you waited, Black-White Sword Ghost?"
"......"
The pale fog gave no answer. Just intensified killing intent.
Then abruptly, faint presence faded. The Black-White Sword Ghost retreating. Fleeing?
He adjusted his hat. Unlikely. No encounter if fleeing. The foe had clearly waited for him.
Baekgwang Juju stepped forward. Once, twice. Couldn't wreck Seongdo further anyway. Dang Clan would get annoying. Might as well shift venue as desired.
Shrieeek!Boom!
Foot hit ground—or blurred into sound. A roar echoed through midnight Seongdo. Spiderweb cracks spread where he stepped.
Again. Booom! Second shockwave through void.
Free movement treating air as foothold: sky-treading. Those transcending humanity imposed their qi interpretation on the world. Anything possible. Void platforms, world-shattering force, will-transmitting conduits.
"Good, good! Faster!"
Baekgwang Juju accelerated. They left the city. Seongdo had endured too much strife. If willing, might rest easy expelling mortal realm monsters.
Leaping city walls in one bound, crossing vast fields. Beyond: Mount Pa's wastes. Rugged mountains, empty dirt paths.
Only at a riverbank did the man finally glimpse his quarry.
Demon mask for distant fabrics. Black martial robes scarred every which way. Matched the organization's intel.
And more. As an organization member, he knew.
"You... already entered Outer Heaven? You consumed the Void Soul, huh?"
Ominous, eerie aura leaking from the target. All divine artifacts bore such. Not of this earth.
The Void Soul stolen from Sima Clan surely on him. And considering he slew the Void Divine Prison's owner, next Flame Seat Master candidate...
The secret behind that unusually potent sword strike unraveled.
"......."
After long silence, the Black-White Sword Ghost spoke.
"You're from Amyeong."
"That's right, but?"
"State your rank and title in Amyeong."
Flat tone. Heavy, oppressive presence. Naturally intimidating demeanor. Thick scent of blood. Not literal smell. Martial arts mimic life's path. His road: unerring Asura's trail.
Sometimes one glimpse outdid hundreds of reports. Baekgwang Juju surmised: this one had slain countless.
One-shotting three Transformation Realm? No exaggeration.
But he wasn't different.
He grinned.
"Baekgwang Juju, Myeong Yeon. Pleased to meet you? Title's, well. In my prime, Sword Emperor?"
"You."
Myeong Yeon smoothly drew his small tanto. Enemy's reaction? Stronger? Weaker? Long-lost thrill of life-or-death seeped into him.
"How strong are you in your organization?"
"Secret?"
"Not Transformation Realm."
"Can't send Transformation Realm when we ground 'em to dust. And can I ask something?"
"......"
"How much of the divine artifact's power have you used? Wielding it without proper offerings?"
The Black-White Sword Ghost fell silent. Myeong Yeon noted: this one didn't grasp divine artifact usage.
Psychological edge?
"Then what offering is that artifact craving now?"
"Don't know."
It landed. Myeong Yeon smiled, probing movements. Tanto quivered in grip. Tense standoff. World held breath.
Briefly.
"Then die."
Jang Cheon drew half his sword with emotionless voice.