Traces of the Past
Two men halted before the entrance to a vast grand hall. The enormous structure, once undoubtedly majestic, was the only thing left standing amid the devastation. A half-rotten plaque dangled precariously, creaking in the wind. "With Will Supreme Under Heaven."
"Hah." All he could offer in response to those words was a cold sneer.
Dang So-young trailed behind at a leisurely pace, piecing together her own guesses. Judging by his reaction, he didn't hold the Weiji Clan in high regard. Not that they deserved it—they weren't exactly an upstanding family. Originally salt merchants who had risen to establish their own clan, they were desperate and greedy to a fault. They ignored the bare minimum of public sentiment. What clearer proof was there than these abandoned ruins?
"Here for revenge against the Weiji Clan...? But it'd be no fun if it ended this anticlimactically. Hey, wait up!"
Before she could finish, the man slipped inside the hall. Dang So-young hurried after him. She had a cartload of questions: his name, age, martial arts, and that intriguing backstory screaming for attention!
"You know who Dongdo of the Four Seas is, right? I'm kinda a big deal—need any help?"
"......"
"You're not some evil demonic cultist, are you? 'Cause I could really throw my weight behind you then."
"......"
"That thing about the Blood Heaven Claw Method being fake earlier? I was just messing with you. Embarrassed?"
"That's not a trace of the Blood Heaven Claw Method."
"Huh? He's actually answering me now?"
In the meantime, the man seemed to have found a lead. Confidence filled his steps as he rummaged through crates and planks in the corner. It was odd—anything of value would have been looted long ago by caretakers or beggars. What could possibly be left?
But something astonishing happened. When he tapped a pillar near the bed a few times, a small click echoed. Clunk, clunk... The sound of an old, rusty mechanism. And with it, a narrow space at the base of the pillar slid open.
The man's gaze fixed dimly on the book inside. Dang So-young rushed to peer over his shoulder, but she couldn't make out the title—it had already vanished into his robes. She only caught a faint mutter.
"......Even after three hundred years, the rotten ones never change."
Three hundred years? Must've misheard. Dang So-young stood awkwardly behind him, a bewildered look on her face. A hidden book from the Weiji Clan—martial arts manual? Were the Weiji Clan's techniques even famous? Not really. Hmm, so what was his story, then?
The man paused before a wall after tucking the book away. He drew a shallow breath, then lightly pressed his palm against it.
Whoosh—crack!
"Wh-whoa?"
The entire wall crumbled. Even for a dilapidated building on the verge of collapse, displaying that kind of power wasn't easy. And he'd done it with just a touch. Infiltrating qi to shatter it from within—a masterful technique.
Dang So-young moved to ask about that too, but this time she couldn't. The sharp glint in his eyes as he whipped around forbade it. Before her mind could react, her body froze solid.
He spoke lowly.
"The secrets of the jianghu are not for meddlers. Especially not personal matters. You're young, so I'll let it slide this once."
"Uh, uh......"
"Don't follow me anymore."
With a flick, he vanished beyond the wall. Without a trace, melting into the darkness. His lightness skill was so swift it was hard to track with the eye.
Dang So-young's body thawed only after the faint warmth he'd left behind faded. By then, only the winter night's chill remained at the girl's side.
*
Two days later, Dang So-young was back home—at the Dang Family estate, naturally. Luckily, her little runaway hadn't been discovered, and classes continued without a hitch, but she had no interest in any of it.
"When the family head orders you to gather the branch leader and his wife, along with the eunuch's niece, what is the proper order for serving tea?"
"Today's lesson is Qu Yuan's poem on integrity. Recite it thirty times to grasp its importance."
She truly, truly had no interest.
"Harbor no vain romantic notions. Understood? As pure poison true blood, you must support this family in the future. Don't act so unruly."
The same routine day after day. Meaningless lectures she'd heard hundreds of times. The Sacheon Dang Clan was a nest of heroes, gateway to the realm of heroes—or so they said. Everyone but her.
Today too, the girl sat at a window table overlooking winter flowers, copying the Four Books and Three Classics with her brush. Then, bored, she stretched and balanced the brush on her upper lip.
"Hmm."
"Hmmm......"
Way more fun like this. It was harder than it looked—holding a ink-soaked brush steady on her philtrum. Sure, she could claim it was training focus or whatever, but really, it was just to keep her mind wandering. Which it was, filled with that mysterious man from two days ago.
The man who'd taken some book from the Weiji ruins. Handsome for no reason, with that odd footwork, and seeming to carry some deep, tragic tale...
"Ugh! Oh? It fell."
The brush finally dropped. Staring at the ink stain on her clothes, Dang So-young grumbled.
"Can't take it anymore!"
She'd get an earful, no doubt. Might as well vent this itch elsewhere. Conveniently, she had just the thing in her pocket—a wooden chunk she'd swiped yesterday. The trace of the Blood Heaven Claw Method embedded in a Weiji pillar, carved out and pocketed by the girl herself. Being the youngest direct-line daughter had its perks. Especially with the elders who doted on her.
*
"Right you are—what's got our little Young-ah in a snit today?"
"Grandpa!"
Dang Ta-ui, the Dang Family's Grand Elder, was a grizzled jianghu veteran nearing eighty. Once called the Iron-Blooded Poison Lord of the martial world, he was a Transformation Realm master whose killing intent could blacken and scorch nature within ten zhang. Pointing a finger alone could melt a man with his vicious poisons.
But now, retired, he was just a doting grandfather crazy for his granddaughter.
"Grandpa, I've got a question! Saw something fun on the street last time and bought it."
"Oh? Show this old man, then."
From a large silk pouch came the charred wooden piece. Eerie nail marks were stark upon it: three long gouges and one short.
Dang So-young spun her tale without batting an eye.
"They were hawking it as wood marked by demonic cult arts, y'know? From a tree found on a wild mountain where a Blood Heaven Claw expert fought Plum Blossom Sword Sage."
"Let this old man see."
He held little expectation. She couldn't be wrong. Dang So-young had eagle eyes since childhood, rivaling adults in discerning martial arts. Showing Grandpa was just to confirm the obvious.
But.
"This is intriguing. Come closer, Young-ah. These things happen in the martial world now and then—let Grandpa explain."
"Huh? Why?"
Her grandfather smiled warmly.
"It's a trace made to look like Blood Heaven Claw Method—exquisitely faked. Real demonic arts don't leave marks like this."
"......What?"
Her eyes widened in shock.
Unaware or uncaring, the old master dove into his explanation.
"Listen well. Blood Heaven Claw is a demonic cult art, right? An ancient one, centuries old. It carries that brutal, savage style inevitably—ripping flesh savagely. But look at these clean cuts. No demonic art could leave marks like that with nails. Nearly fooled even this old man!"
"Not Blood Heaven Claw?"
"No. Only someone with exceptional skill and insight could spot it. Great deduction just guessing Blood Heaven Claw, Young-ah. Hmm, wait—who sold you this?"
"Th-that's......"
Dang So-young stammered. Where? How? Her mind blanked.
The Weiji Clan massacre by the demonic cult was already settled. Confirmed by the Murim Alliance's investigators. And the prime evidence? This trace in her hand.
Faked?
As rigid Dang So-young and the wood-fondling Dang Ta-ui sat, a newcomer arrived. Someone bearing news to the quiet pavilion.
"Is the Supreme Elder present?"
"What is it?"
"The Alliance requests dispatch. Word is the family head will convene a meeting, so I've come to inform you."
"Not three months since I told those filthy schemers I want no part."
"No, it's different."
The messenger hesitated, glanced at Dang So-young, then spoke. As direct kin, she qualified to hear.
"Last night, the Murim Alliance Seongdo Branch was raided. No casualties, but something was stolen."
"What?"
Dang Ta-ui blinked in confusion. Beside him, Dang So-young clenched her fist in secret. She couldn't let on her shock.
"All documents on recent martial world incidents—gone. The Alliance suspects the demonic cult."
"What exactly... was written in them?"
"Detailed records from the incidents and investigators' names, probably. Why do you ask, miss?"
No. The culprit probably wasn't the cult.
The girl already knew who it was. No proof, but certain.
"Don't follow me anymore."
It was that man.