Empty Manor, White Sword
Hwangbo Cheongeuk, captain of the Hwangbo Clan's Iron Guard, could not believe the situation before him.
He had been leading the Iron Guard back from settling friction with the Green Forest Bandits. Their methods had been extreme enough that an entire Green Forest mountain stronghold had been wiped from the map.
Within Shandong Province, all shall obey the laws of the Hwangbo Clan.
They had been on the road after making that meaning unmistakably clear.
The Iron Guard were the Hwangbo Clan's elite warriors, and having once tasted blood, they were still in a state of high excitement. So when ordered to dispatch a hundred-man company, they had even been privately pleased.
They had hurried toward a distant destination when, two days short of the assembly point, they met an unwelcome guest.
The young man in his late teens who blocked their path was wearing — unbelievably — the sacred relic of the Hwangbo Clan's lord.
Even so, they thought him reckless. No matter how threatening the Bihwang-gwon-gap was to fist fighters, it only worked on direct contact.
Just dodge and subdue him.
He had believed they could execute that simple plan. They could not.
Would we have won if not for the Bihwang-gwon-gap?
Only after every last member of the Iron Guard had fallen did that thought occur to him.
Unbelievably strong.
Hwangbo Cheongeuk thought it through.
A genius — or someone who has returned to youth.
He did not look like a rejuvenated elder, so he had to be a genius. And now that genius was pressing him hard.
Boom! Boom!
With every step the youth who had given his name as Ja Gangcheon took, a heavy vibration rolled through the ground.
Profound inner energy.
An astonishing achievement for his age. Moreover, it was purer than any energy Hwangbo Cheongeuk had ever encountered. It was the same sensation as when he had crossed palms with a Shaolin Arhat monk in a sparring match years ago.
This was not something mere spiritual pills or fortuitous encounters could produce. The Hwangbo Clan distributed such elixirs to its direct descendants; Hwangbo Cheongeuk knew their effects well.
"Kh!"
As he marveled at Ja Gangcheon's skill, the Bihwang-gwon-gap was already waiting before the fist he had thrown on reflex. He yanked his hand back and escaped the crisis, but cold sweat ran down his back.
This is a disaster.
He wore gauntlets of his own — iron fist-guards designed so that a man could catch even a decent blade bare-handed. Yet even those could not clash with the Bihwang-gwon-gap. The signature feature of the Bihwang-gwon-gap, the Sea Dragon Thorns, were so thin that when they reacted to inner energy they hardened like needles and punched straight through thin iron plating.
That was why the Bihwang-gwon-gap was the supreme weapon of a fist fighter.
I have to open the distance first.
But he had been thinking that from the start.
His footwork and movement arts are miraculous.
Truly phantom-like body techniques. Heavy when advancing, light as a feather when retreating or dodging. He swayed as he closed in, withdrew like a shadow, and crashed in like thunder.
And those eyes.
What shocked Hwangbo Cheongeuk most of all was Ja Gangcheon's emotion — or rather the lack of it. Even a man seasoned in the jianghu felt fear, terror, hesitation, and foreboding. Those were natural human feelings, and shaking them off in combat was a lifelong assignment for any martial artist. Whether one could bring out a hundred percent of one's skill hinged entirely on excluding those emotions.
Cold and composed.
A youth in his teens was doing exactly that. And in the moment he admitted it, the shadow of misfortune fell over him.
Crash!
At last Ja Gangcheon's fist slammed into his solar plexus. His right hand had smashed down the crossed arms, and his left had driven through — the result of an advance that had until now come in heavy and honest suddenly accelerating.
Even that was calculated?
The straightforward attacks he had first admired had all been setup for the final blow.
"Guh."
In the end, the captain of the Hwangbo Clan's Iron Guard met his end along with five of his men.
"Hoo."
Unlike before, Ja Gangcheon did not leave at once; he paused to catch his breath.
"That makes thirty, doesn't it?"
Over the past three days he had ambushed the hundred-man companies traveling separately six times, and as a result had disposed of thirty men.
"I might have pushed myself a bit hard."
The fights had been overwhelming. Occasionally someone used a weapon rather than fist arts, but that had not been a major problem. The real problem was the long travel distance. Because he had to predict their routes and strike, he had been forced to push his lightfoot arts hard.
"Shall we move to the next stage?"
Having made his decision, Ja Gangcheon went to a large tree in a nearby forest.
"Mister. It's done."
When he finished speaking, a slight man in his thirties dropped down from the tree.
"You took care of the Iron Guard captain?"
"Yes. Please find me one more place close to the assembly point."
"Isn't that too dangerous? By now the Hwangbo Clan will have realized the ambushes. Not only will their vigilance be high, they'll have formed pursuit parties to catch you, my lord."
"That's why I'm going."
The man wanted a fuller explanation, but he could not ask for one.
"Well, I've received my orders, so I have no choice but to follow."
"Please be sure to thank Sister Yeonhui for me."
The man belonged to Haomun. He was the fourth Haomun agent Ja Gangcheon had met while carrying out the ambushes. They monitored the Hwangbo Clan's movements in each region and, when Ja Gangcheon requested it, provided predicted routes.
"You do understand this is not an official operation of Haomun?"
"Yes. I know."
"You must succeed. Branch Leader Yeonhui's life is on the line as well."
Haomun almost never took a one-sided stance in this kind of fight. Even if they had grounds that the Hwangbo Clan had disregarded Haomun as a mediator, providing intelligence for ambushes in an all-out war carried a different weight. Ordinarily, Haomun's way would have been to sit in the middle and profit; Branch Leader Yeonhui had chosen to throw her full support behind Deungmyeong Manor. It was proceeding, however, not as Haomun's official action but through her personal network.
"If we win, it becomes Haomun's official position. If we lose, it becomes Sister Yeonhui's personal overstep."
"That's correct."
One could not help but think of them as a thoroughly pragmatic — and cruel — organization.
"Don't worry. We're going to win."
"I believe so as well. The fact that every ambush has succeeded so far is already outside all calculation. I've decided not to try to judge."
When Ja Gangcheon smiled faintly, the man gave him a location.
"South of the assembly point at Jeseong there is a small village called Miga Village. Seek out a man named Wang Dongmyeong there. He lives in a house with old medicinal herbs laid out on the roof, so he should not be hard to find."
Informing him of yet another contact was the man's role.
"Then I pray for your safety."
"Yours as well, mister."
Having received the next piece of intelligence, Ja Gangcheon left the forest.
Jeseong was a village a day's travel along the official road from Gyounam. It was a place where merchant caravans and escort agencies heading inland from the coast briefly rested, and it was not large.
Yet today, figures of unusually distinguished presence had gathered in Jeseong. They were the hundred-man company formed by the Hwangbo Clan. And when evening came and the Hwangbo Clan's new clan head arrived, the atmosphere reached its peak.
The atmosphere in question, however, was so ominous that the village residents hid inside their homes in fear.
"How many have arrived?"
"Sixty in all. We confirmed the last ambush nearby and formed a pursuit party, but failed to catch them."
"Forty men taken down? What the hell were you doing while that was happening!"
When Hwangbo Taejin first received the report, it had been ten men. In a mere three days it had become forty. Most absurd of all was that the final ambush had taken place a mere two shichen from the assembly point.
"The Gangho Unit that had been dispatched to the north was ambushed while coming to the assembly point. The elite warriors of the Shandong Merchant Guild who had been on watch joined the pursuit late — and they were taken down as well."
In the end, even the pursuit party had fallen, and ten more had died.
Crack!
The armrest of the chair Hwangbo Taejin had been gripping crumbled to powder. He had put too much force into it, unable to contain his fury.
This is my first official move as clan head.
Before the work had even begun, he had lost forty percent of his force. That was absurd enough — and they had not even found the ambusher.
"Not a single survivor."
Forty men sacrificed, and not one scrap of information gained. They could only assume those who had not arrived had been hit.
"Clan Head. You need not think so complicatedly. First consider the greater cause; the losses can be cleaned up later."
At the elder's counsel, Hwangbo Taejin cooled his excitement.
"The reason they are pushing themselves to ambush us is because they have judged they have no chance in an all-out war. There is no need to be shaken by their intent."
"Indeed. Deungmyeong Manor will still be right where it is."
Hwangbo Taejin decided not to overthink it.
"Recall all pursuit parties. At dawn tomorrow we go to Deungmyeong Manor."
In the end, he would see the mastermind of the ambushes when he reached Deungmyeong Manor. With cold reason, Hwangbo Taejin believed he had made the wisest choice.
It was early dawn.
Dozens of silhouettes approached Deungmyeong Manor. Perhaps because they had lost forty percent of their comrades, those who arrived before Deungmyeong Manor made no attempt to hide their rage.
"Attack. Leave not a single one alive."
At the long-awaited order of the clan head, the martial artists vaulted the walls as one. Beneath the faint light of dawn, sixty shadows swept over Deungmyeong Manor.
To vent their extreme fury, they began rapidly searching for people. Yet Deungmyeong Manor was strangely still.
Could they have abandoned the manor?
It was hard to accept by common sense.
If so, those who followed them will be in danger.
All of Gyounam lay under Deungmyeong Manor's influence. Among them, everyone knew what the East Sea Merchant Guild meant. If Deungmyeong Manor simply vanished like this, who the next target would be was obvious.
Just as hollow frustration was turning back into rage—
"Clan Head. There is someone."
He had not known those words could sound so welcome. The other party made no attempt to hide; he appeared from behind a pavilion. Watching him walk forward with open confidence, every person of the Hwangbo Clan wore a peculiar expression.
A blue Daoist robe imbued with a pure, clear aura, cloud-pattern embroidery on the sleeves.
"Jinmyeong of the Wudang Sect greets his seniors of the Hwangbo Clan."
The man who even offered a formal clasped-fist salute was Jinmyeong, the White Clothes Sword of Wudang. When one spoke of Rising Stars, his name was always the first to be mentioned — a talent called the future sect leader of Wudang.
"What brings the White Clothes Sword here?"
The encounter was as baffling as finding Deungmyeong Manor empty.
"Might I first ask you to identify yourselves?"
"I am Hwangbo Taejin, who has assumed the temporary headship of the Hwangbo Clan."
"Ah! So you are the new clan head. I recently heard of the conflict between Deungmyeong Manor and the Hwangbo Clan and have come to mediate. I am aware of the misunderstandings between you. Would it not be best to withdraw at this point?"
"Have you heard what became of my father?"
"I am aware of that process as well."
He did not spell it out, but the implication was clear: It was the Hwangbo Clan's fault, so do not use it as justification.
"No matter how I look at it, this is not a matter for Wudang to intervene in."
"I have a deep friendship with Ja Gangcheon, lord of Deungmyeong Manor."
"What manner of relationship is that?"
"He is as a younger brother to me."
This was none other than Wudang's foremost Rising Star. He had barely passed twenty, yet he was not a man one could treat lightly. Even so, too much was at stake to simply withdraw. This was his first move as clan head, and having begun under the banner of vengeance, he absolutely could not stop. Moreover, fully forty men had been sacrificed just getting here. Even Wudang or no, this was not a situation a single green youth could block.
"Am I to take the White Clothes Sword's words as the official position of the Wudang Sect?"
"This is a personal matter of mine. The elders of Wudang know nothing of it."
"Are you toying with me right now?"
Not the position of Wudang as a whole — a mere disciple standing in the way of the Hwangbo Clan head's vengeance. It was so absurd he was at a loss for words.