Blood for Blood
“You sure you actually got stabbed?”
I was admitted to the clinic at Cheonsubaekryeonsa.
The physician in charge—a man whose goat beard left a lasting impression—had made quite a fuss when they first hauled me in covered in blood. But as soon as he saw that my body had almost no wounds to match the sprayed gore, he tilted his head and looked utterly baffled.
Using the waxing and waning of the full moon as the measure, a full emergency musculoskeletal restoration like this is possible only once. Plenty of restrictions, and temporary at that.
I pressed a hand to my stomach. The cold kiss of the kitchen knife punching through my belly was still vivid.
I had no idea what Moyong Taese had written on the letter of recommendation, but word came that the entrance paperwork had gone through without a hitch even while I was lying in the clinic. There had been no major external injuries, yet mild anemia and a slight difficulty walking earned me an extra week of recovery.
The sheer scale of Cheonsubaekryeonsa, glimpsed from the clinic windows, was beyond anything I had imagined.
So the nickname “a martial world within the martial world” wasn’t an exaggeration after all.
Countless training grounds and practice halls stretched on and on; the endless walls alone made it feel as if I had stepped into another realm. People came and went in throngs. There were even inns, lodgings, and every sort of facility reserved solely for those of Cheonsubaekryeonsa.
The clinic itself was quiet.
“The induction ceremony hasn’t even started yet. This is the only real rest period we get. Once the trials and promotion exams begin at the four gates and the wounded start pouring in—ah, don’t even get me started. Hell. Pure hell.”
The physician on duty introduced himself as Physician Haseo. Cheerful and apparently bored, he kept chatting with me the whole time. Through him I picked up all kinds of information until the day of the induction ceremony, when I was finally discharged.
“Wow. That body of yours is pure natural talent. Bend your arm for me?”
On the morning of the induction, while preparing for discharge, I followed his instructions and went through various motions. Moving my arms, stretching my body through its full range, I asked carefully:
“Has that person come by again since then?”
“Who?”
I searched my memory.
“Someone on the shorter side, with striking silver eyes.”
“If you mean Executioner Eun Seollyeong—” Haseo slapped a fist into his palm. “She’s already forgotten she even dumped you here. I’d bet on it.”
“…What’s an executioner?”
“There’s such a thing. Lowly disciples like you don’t need to know. Anyway, cases like yours aren’t special to her. She dumps wounded people off and vanishes all the time.”
It stung in a strange way.
“There are many cases like mine?”
“Plenty of idiots who mouth off to her and get turned into tired corpses. Ah, right—there was something I wanted to ask you.”
Haseo’s manner grew serious.
“Of course it can’t be true, but… Moyong Bi, you don’t get along well with the rest of the brothers in your family, do you?”
“That’s… true enough? Why suddenly ask?”
Haseo sighed, his expression complicated.
“Well, the Cheonsubaekryeonsa cohort that used to open every six years is opening after a full ten this time, so we expected some of it, but… ha. Honestly… that is…”
He couldn’t quite continue. Only after I pressed him several times did he open his mouth again.
“There’s a rumor that all three brothers of the Moyong Family are trying to enroll in this cohort of Cheonsubaekryeonsa. Other young masters from the Five Great Families of age do enroll, of course, but three brothers from a single house entering all at once? That’s never happened.”
My mind went blank white.
Even with my shallow knowledge of the jianghu, I understood at once. It was far too deliberate. It made no sense.
I had entrusted myself to this place because I believed it was a windless zone. Moyong Taese himself had actively recommended Cheonsubaekryeonsa precisely because no one’s influence reached here.
“First you’ve heard of it, I take it.”
Seeing my face, Haseo looked worried. I gave no detailed explanation, but since he already knew I was the Moyong Family’s illegitimate son, he seemed to have pieced most of it together.
“Don’t worry yourself too much. People come to Cheonsubaekryeonsa for martial arts, yes, but just as often for connections with the Nine Sects and One Gang and other powerful houses. I doubt they enrolled to harm you specifically—more likely some competition among themselves. Of course, the Moyong Family shoulders the largest share of the operating funds, so their influence will still be the heaviest.”
A heavy pressure settled in my chest. Haseo started to say something, then closed his mouth again.
“If it gets hard, come find me. I’ll at least keep you company.”
That was probably the best comfort he could offer. I smiled, bowed with genuine gratitude, then turned and walked toward the training ground where the induction would be held.
“All the Moyong young masters enrolling…”
I agree with the physician. Host is certainly a thorn in their side, but to claim the three brothers are racing into Cheonsubaekryeonsa simply to eliminate you is excessive conjecture. Right.
I turned right into an alley.
“Word is the three of them already hate each other like sworn enemies… so guessing some rivalry drove them is more reasonable.”
In my personal judgment, each is securing personal martial achievement and a network of support. Left.
I turned left again.
“This place, where every young talent in the jianghu gathers, is the perfect place to build connections, after all?”
And if they can casually take each other’s heads while they’re at it, everything’s perfect—accidental death or otherwise. Stop.
I halted.
One jang and a half ahead. Right-hand wall. Blue martial robes.
“I still wanted to believe it was coincidence.”
I stared hard at the mouth of the alley as I spoke.
Our paths have overlapped three times. No coincidence.
Around us the streets thronged with new enrollees heading for the training ground, noisy and crowded. In the middle of that press I clearly saw him: a man beneath the wall, tucking a dagger into his chest and vanishing as if he had never been there.
Likely none of the three entered alone. They disguised members of their own factions as fellow disciples and brought them in.
“…Of course. They’re not fools.”
I remembered Gam Seoin’s warning. Even the second brother—famous for being dull, frivolous, and fond of women—stood on a powerful base of support and could not be ignored. The first and third must never be underestimated.
If they’re keeping this tight a watch even on an illegitimate like Host, I can’t begin to imagine what they’re doing to one another among the pure-bloods.
I clenched the strap of the pack digging into my shoulder.
“Mumyeong. You know what I thought when they stuck that knife in my gut right at the gate?”
What did you think?
I ground my teeth until they creaked.
“I’ll let everything else slide. But anyone—anyone—who points a blade at me even once, man or woman, young or old, gets no mercy. I don’t want the Moyong Family headship or any of that shit. But…!”
I carved each word into my bones.
“Blood for blood. If surviving means becoming the head of the Moyong Family, then I’ll be that bastard of a family head. If it’s kill or be killed, I’ll slaughter every last dog that comes after me.”
Mumyeong was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, he murmured through my mind.
All well and good, but try not to swear. Or if you must, do it properly. Don’t half-ass it.
“…Fucking bastard.”
Don’t curse inside your head either. Strong wishes sometimes leak through.
My temples throbbed. So this was what it felt like to have a mother-in-law living in your skull.
Before I could sink any deeper into thought, a clear, ringing voice cut through the air.
“Everyone, attention!”
Young men and women my age crowded toward the sound, packing the square. The throng wore martial robes of every different sect.
“Don’t block the way. Move.”
I rubbed my shoved shoulder and looked back. A group in black robes, each a full head taller than me.
“What sect are you? Go to your own side.”
They waved me off as if a loner like me didn’t even register and strode past.
“That’s our spot. Clear out.”
“We claimed this place. Find somewhere else.”
The atmosphere began to overheat. Everyone wanted the front row, where the platform would notice them most easily. What started as simple jostling for position slowly turned into a contest of pride between sects.
“This place belongs to the Diancang Sect. Leave while we’re still being polite—unless you want to see blood on your first day.”
“Bullshit. Our Kunlun Sect’s junior has been standing here since morning. How dare you talk so shamelessly?”
“What was that?”
Already several groups were radiating murderous intent at one another. Of course, one corner sat completely free of friction despite holding a prime spot.
“Ugh, the stench!”
Along one side of the assembly stood the disciples of the Beggars’ Sect, every one of them in ragged, torn clothes, scratching their heads.
“What’s the problem? We washed, more or less.”
“See? Prejudice is a scary thing!”
Pushed all the way to the back, I stood with my mouth open watching them.
“…Amazing.”
Close your mouth, Host. Composure.
This was the world I had once longed to join. In reality I had never even managed entry into a minor sect, let alone the Nine Sects and One Gang. And now I stood in the same space as the disciples of those renowned houses. Once again I felt it: Cheonsubaekryeonsa was no place just anyone could enter. Only the promising successors of local powers and famous sects gathered here to train.
“All of you, attention. No further disturbance will be tolerated.”
The noise died at once. Onto the platform stepped a man of thick, knotted muscle, black hair combed neatly back. His mere appearance sent a vast pressure rolling across the square.
“Welcome to Cheonsubaekryeonsa. My name is Gang Buryong. I hold overall responsibility here. Drop the honorifics. You have not yet been granted formal status as enrollees.”
A ripple went through the crowd. To a martial artist, honor and pride were innate. Ignore them and the reaction was never good.
“And I see you’re already wasting time on petty faction squabbles. Don’t be ridiculous, you green chicks. You’re still far too wet behind the ears to represent the names of the sects you belong to.”
I thought the provocation excessive. The man was deliberately speaking in a harsh register. That kind of contempt invited exactly the response that came next.
“That insult to our sect cannot be allowed!”
A short-haired man in teal martial robes, hair bound with a cord, shouted. Gang Buryong’s mouth twisted in a cold smile.
“Let’s clear up any misunderstanding. When did I insult a sect? Just now I insulted you and your skill, you idiot.”
“W-what did you say?!”
The man in teal flushed crimson and roared.
“A-anyway! This is an insult to a martial artist! I am Ryu Baeksan, third-generation disciple of the Diancang Sect! I am confident in my skill. You’re the one who’s a frog in a well, stuck in these mountains and ignorant of the true powerhouses of the wide world…!”
A blur—and Gang Buryong stood directly in front of Ryu Baeksan.
“Frog?”
A wet, heavy impact. Gang Buryong’s fist slammed into Ryu Baeksan’s cheek. The big man’s body flipped as if his neck had broken and crashed face-first into the dirt.
“…!”
Silence swallowed the assembly. Gang Buryong dusted off his fist.
“Every cohort, when new disciples arrive, there’s always at least one like you. But your mouth is especially foul. Didn’t your seniors warn you? At Cheonsubaekryeonsa you can mess around with anyone else, but never act out in front of Pahwanggun or Gang Buryong.”
“Urgh…!!”
He planted a boot on Ryu Baeksan’s head and spoke coldly.
“And I am that Gang Buryong. If you have a complaint, get permission from your sect leader and challenge me to a life-and-death duel. I’ll accept anytime. I should pay a separate visit to the Diancang Sect Leader soon. Last cohort they sent fine disciples worthy of Diancang’s reputation. Now some thunderstruck cub who can’t even gauge an opponent’s strength runs around dirtying the sect’s name by throwing it around.”
Under that overwhelming pressure, not a single person spoke. A simple demonstration of absolute martial power—and the most effective one. Among the people filling the vast training ground, there was hardly anyone who wasn’t some young master of note. To bind together so many strong-willed individuals, each with their own sharp colors, a process like this was indispensable.
Certainly.
Not everyone in the crowd was reckless. Some watched the situation in perfect stillness, never making a single rash move despite the earlier noise.
…
A few pairs of eyes met mine with particular force. A few people rose to their feet. Anxiety crawled up through my chest like mold.
“No. Not here. Surely not.”