The Fall of the Hwangbo Clan
Jinan, Shandong Province.
"Whoa."
Ja Gangcheon could not stop marveling as he stepped into the greatest city in all of Shandong. Of every town and village he had ever seen, this was the largest and most intricate. The marketplace thronged so densely that simply pushing through was a struggle.
As a major inland market, it offered goods never seen in Gyounam. He longed to wander and look his fill, but unfortunately there was no time for that.
"I'll come back another day," he murmured, and steered clear of the crowded bazaar, following the broad avenue where carriages and carts rolled past.
"That should be the Hanmyeong Inn up ahead. We're almost there."
The carriages on the main road grew finer, the travelers' clothing more luxurious. Unlike the chaotic market, grand halls and pavilions began to appear one after another.
Among them stood government offices. Unlike Gyounam, the main gates stood wide open, guarded by two armed sentries. The sight struck him as rather impressive, and he lingered a moment—until a familiar voice reached him.
"Officials and the martial world do not interfere with one another. That means the Manor Lord need never get tangled up with them."
"Auntie!"
The one who had drawn near was none other than the Poisonous Loving Mother, Song Jain.
"You found your way well."
"Don't tell me you were worried about me?"
"Not worried. Waiting. I simply missed you."
"How can you be so tenderhearted?"
"Traveling alone is too hard and lonely."
Ja Gangcheon's grumble was entirely sincere. He had been moving through so many new places that the constant vigilance had worn on him.
"I'm here now, so you can rest easy."
They walked on, chatting in low, easy tones. To any passerby they looked like nothing more than a fond aunt and her nephew out for a stroll.
No one would have been on guard—had they not stopped before the most dangerous place in all of Jinan.
"Is this the Hwangbo Clan?"
"Yes. They are called the Fist King Clan, and Shandong's foremost family."
"That reputation ends today."
Ja Gangcheon gazed up at a vast complex of halls that dwarfed even the government buildings.
"Auntie. Don't get hurt."
"You neither, Manor Lord."
Ja Gangcheon strode boldly toward the Hwangbo Clan's gates.
The two sentries blocking the entrance stepped into his path, their auras bristling with menace.
"State your identity!"
"We're not exactly on those kinds of terms."
"You know me?"
Boom!
Instead of answering, Ja Gangcheon drove his fist into the first sentry's solar plexus. The man flew backward, smashing through the gate itself, and tumbled across the ground amid shattered timber.
"You bastard!"
Boom!
Another impact rang out before the second sentry's roar had even finished. He rolled to a stop beside his fallen comrade and did not move again.
"Who goes there!"
"We're under attack!"
The instant the two gate guards breathed their last, men who had heard the explosions poured into the front courtyard.
"You mean to assault the Hwangbo Clan with only two people?"
A weathered martial artist of the clan stared at Ja Gangcheon in open disbelief.
Song Jain answered for him.
Chuk-chuk-chuk.
She kicked off the ground and shot forward, palm thrusting toward the old fighter. The veteran poured every scrap of his internal energy into a fist technique to meet her palm strike.
Boom!
Internal energies collided in a thunderous blast—and immediately afterward a thick, acrid reek of poison flooded the air. It was the foul, metallic stench of smoke rising from a burning corpse.
"Guh!"
By the time the old master recognized the smell, he was already vomiting blood and collapsing backward from Song Jain's fist.
"P-poison arts!"
In the same breath they understood exactly who had come for them.
"The Poisonous Loving Mother!"
At last recognized, Song Jain addressed the warriors of the Hwangbo Clan.
"All of this is a fight you yourselves began. You are merely paying the price—so do not feel wronged."
Her expression and tone as she spoke were oppressive and merciless, like a judge pronouncing a death sentence. But this was the Hwangbo Clan; no one here would simply accept that verdict.
"You've come looking for your own grave!"
"I will see for myself just how strong the Poisonous Loving Mother really is!"
Even those who had never reached the ranks of the Hundred Elites were still formidable masters in their own right. The assault looked suicidal—yet the two attackers remained utterly composed.
"Anyone who has not learned martial arts, leave now. If they die needlessly, the fault will not be mine but yours for treating this situation so lightly."
Having delivered her clear warning, Song Jain swept the courtyard with her eyes.
In the blink of an eye more than fifty warriors had gathered in the front yard. The number was swelling by the second.
At least two hundred.
Even as she gauged their strength, the clan's fighters were quietly closing a circle around her.
Yet they had overlooked one crucial fact: so fixed were they upon the Poisonous Loving Mother that they paid no heed to Ja Gangcheon standing several paces behind her.
Just then the sole remaining elder of the clan vaulted over a pavilion roof and landed in the front courtyard.
"What reckless uninvited guests."
"Sit in the back rooms clutching go stones all day and of course you lose touch with how the world turns."
"What did you say?"
"An elder is supposed to correct his descendants' mistakes and teach them properly. Yet you stand idle while they drag the clan's name through the mud like common alley thugs. All you have left to boast of is your age."
"You little witch! Just because you have a mouth doesn't mean you can wag it however you please!"
"Every man who ever called me that is already visiting King Yama. Looks like one more will join them today."
The elder could bear no more and was about to step forward—when a strange, whispering sound made him snap his head around.
There, closing the distance at an unbelievable speed, was Ja Gangcheon.
Shring!
The sight of the ink-dark blade in the youth's hand sent a chill of pure dread through the elder's chest.
It was the Ink-Dyed Blade that Ja Gangcheon had drawn.
Could a shadow so dense exist beneath the bright noon sun? The path of the blade as it swept sideways looked like a brush dipped in ink drawing a single line through the air itself.
"Kh!"
Unable to face that ominous feeling, the elder recoiled—and in that instant:
Chuk-chuk-chut!
Internal energy that retained the exact shape of the swinging blade raced after him. Condensed force commonly called sword-qi—blade-qi, in this case—slammed into the elder's chest.
"Guh!"
He crossed both arms and raised a protective barrier of internal energy, yet the power of the Ink-Dyed Blade detonated against his body.
"Kraaagh!"
At the moment of impact the blade's energy shattered into hundreds of razor-edged fragments that shredded everything in the vicinity. Dozens of crimson lines scored the elder's body as he stood trapped in that space.
For a heartbeat time itself seemed to freeze. Then, with a monstrous howl, he charged Ja Gangcheon.
Covered in blood and looking more demon than man, the elder lunged. Ja Gangcheon simply took one calm step backward, his face expressionless.
Whoosh!
The elder's fist whistled past Ja Gangcheon's chin and began to withdraw—when:
Tuk.
As though a string connected him to the retracting fist, Ja Gangcheon closed the distance at the exact same speed.
The most dangerous moment when a weapon is being pulled back. Capturing that split second with perfect precision, Ja Gangcheon watched the elder desperately thrust out his other hand, aiming for the youth's side.
But Ja Gangcheon slipped sideways as if gliding on ice and drew the Ink-Dyed Blade in a diagonal slash.
In that instant blood sprayed from the elder's thigh—the very place his upper body had been guarding so carefully. The flesh where the Ink-Dyed Blade had passed looked as though a great beast's claws had torn it open.
Strength drained from the elder in a flash; his balance collapsed. Ja Gangcheon did not miss the opening. He severed the man's neck.
Tuk.
The elder's head rolling across the ground was a grim prophecy of everything that would unfold at the Hwangbo Clan that day.
"Today I can finally cut loose as much as I want."
Ja Gangcheon decided to release the power of the Ink-Dyed Blade he had been holding tightly in check.
Ja Gangcheon had chosen the Ink-Dyed Blade over the Rain Phoenix Gauntlet.
Because so many in the clan wielded weapons? Because he did not yet want the outside world to know he possessed the Rain Phoenix Gauntlet?
The reason he had drawn the Ink-Dyed Blade instead was simple.
The time has come.
He had trained enough. His internal energy had ripened, and he was confident he would not lose his mind to the blade.
I want to see.
Above all, that desire burned brightest.
How far can you show me?
And the Hwangbo Clan made an excellent opponent for finding that answer.
Chwaaaaat!
A saw-toothed wave of force shot from the vertical slash of the Ink-Dyed Blade and split both men and earth at once.
"Guhh…"
"Khak!"
As if tearing two bodies apart had not been enough, the Ink-Dyed Blade gave a faint vibration—and at the same time began greedily drinking Ja Gangcheon's internal energy.
If you refuse to obey me, you'll never see the light of day again.
Ja Gangcheon fed it a measured stream of energy and tightened his grip on the hilt.
Pang!
For the first time he circulated his internal energy in earnest and called the mnemonic formulas to mind.
Heaven's Will Severs the Sea
The signature blade art of the Northern Heavenly Castle, transmitted only through the direct bloodline of the North's overlord, now unfolded from Ja Gangcheon's hand.
It began with the unity of mind and body. Then the energies of Ja Gangcheon and the Ink-Dyed Blade found perfect balance.
Wooooong.
With a powerful vibration, condensed force gathered at the blade's core.
Now.
As the radiating waves of energy began to warp the air around him, Ja Gangcheon's Ink-Dyed Blade skimmed the earth and traced a vast horizontal circle.
Chwarararat!
An ominous force never seen in the original North Heaven Blade Art crashed over the clan's warriors.
"Block it!"
The pure fist fighters dared not meet it head-on; those with weapons stepped forward instead—and received that loathsome wave.
"Kraaaagh!"
"Guh!"
The men who had encircled Ja Gangcheon screamed.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
In the wake of the single sweeping tide, dull impacts sounded one after another as warriors toppled. Fully twenty of them.
Some had been cut clean through the waist so that torso and legs fell in opposite directions. Others had their breastbones sheared away, leaving the heart exposed. A man who had raised a spear lost both shaft and hand together—and still a crimson line was drawn across his solar plexus for good measure.
It was nothing short of a catastrophe.
"How…?"
The surviving warriors stared at Ja Gangcheon with faces drained of color. Even after displaying such unbelievable might he remained utterly expressionless, and true terror finally began to take root in their hearts.
Who could have imagined such a thing happening in the very heart of the Hwangbo Clan?
Yet their despair did not end there.
"Stop her!"
A short distance from the front courtyard lay the training grounds—the place where the clan's warriors spent the most time. There, too, a nightmare was unfolding.
The poisonous fragrance riding the wind grew thicker by the moment; now the reek of blood had begun to mingle with it. Song Jain was proving, with raw ability, exactly why Poison Valley had once been a byword for terror.
Her purple-stained poison palms were no different from the Rain Phoenix Gauntlet Ja Gangcheon sometimes used. Death and screams filled the space around her, and before long every man was stumbling backward.
The tiger of Shandong.
The main estate of the Hwangbo Clan was collapsing under the assault of just two people.
Screeech!
A harsh, scraping metallic cry seemed determined to put the finishing touch on the slaughter. When Ja Gangcheon poured internal energy into the Ink-Dyed Blade as though testing it, the weapon answered with an unpleasant sound.
"You started this fight saying we'd kill each other. Then you shouldn't be backing away now."
Ja Gangcheon looked at the twenty warriors who could no longer approach and were instead retreating. More than a hundred of their comrades already lay dead around them.
They had survived only because they had hung farther back and attacked half-heartedly. The courageous were already dead; those who had stepped to the front for their brothers had not lived either.
If they had simply fled he might have understood—but even paralyzed by fear they still held their ground.
Tuk.
With every step Ja Gangcheon took, corpses of the fallen snagged against his feet. Watching their comrades' bodies shoved aside like so much luggage, the remaining warriors could not bring themselves to charge.
"Let's finish this quickly."
Ja Gangcheon did not waste time.
Tat!
He began to run, stepping on the dead, and started butchering the flinching warriors. No especially powerful forms or fighting spirit were required. It was far easier than the beginning; he felt almost no real sense of danger.
"P-please…"
He cut down the one who begged for his life, then split open the back of the man who had turned to run. After slicing through the waist of a man frozen stiff and trembling, Ja Gangcheon surveyed the surroundings with indifferent eyes.
Mutilated corpses sprawled every which way. Bloodstains, vivid under the sunlight, soaked the entire front courtyard.
It was a living hellscape.
Could there be a more cruel scene than this within the reach of human imagination? Even Ja Gangcheon's hardened heart felt a strange emotion well up.
"Still not enjoyable, after all."
His stomach churned with nausea and revulsion. His heart grew heavy, as though he had draped himself in karmic debt and guilt. Yet there was far too much at stake to drown in those feelings.
This is a place where if you don't kill, you die.
Even his father had said as much.
In the jianghu, the worst bastard is the one who dies. Because the ones who survive make it that way.
His mother's words struck him with renewed force. Had he met his end at Deungmyeong Manor, the Hwangbo Clan would have rewritten every record to their own advantage.
This is a fight to stay alive. I cannot hesitate.
Steeling his heart once more, Ja Gangcheon drew a fire-starter from his robes.
At the same moment, elsewhere—
"Guhh…"
The last to resist were the Protection Unit, known as the final defense line of the Hwangbo Clan. The ten warriors of that unit fought to the bitter end.
Was the Poisonous Loving Mother always this strong?
They had dismissed the ranking of the Ten Great Masters as mere rumor.
This is a level we cannot handle. There is no one left in our clan who can stand against her.
In the end the Protection Unit's captain made his final choice.
Even if I go to the underworld, I'll take at least one of her arms with me.
Resolved to die together, he no longer tried to block the palm strike aimed at his chest; instead he threw his own body forward. Gathering every scrap of internal energy into his right hand, he lunged for Song Jain's left shoulder.
But Song Jain had no intention of yielding even a single thing.
Whoosh!
She halted her attack and twisted her body. The instant the captain's fist carved empty air, her poison palm closed around his throat.
Having poured everything into that last blow, the captain could not recover his crumbling center of gravity.
"Guhhhh."
Poison seeping through her hand and into his skin dyed the captain's face a deep purple. His tongue lolled out as he breathed his last.
Tuk.
Just as Song Jain finished the final man—
Hwarrrrr!
Flames erupted from a nearby pavilion not far away.