Let's Sweep Them All

"The operation is simple."

So Yeomgyo took the teacup I handed her and tapped the wall with a stick.

"Your hair looks different."

She had pulled up the hair she always let hang to her waist and bound it into a high ponytail. Beneath the single fall of black hair, the pale nape of her neck was bare.

"Focus on the wall, Biryu."

"So I'm completely Biryu now? I still have my original name, Moyong Bi—"

—Thwack.

The stick cracked against my head.

"I could have blocked that," I said. "I just chose not to."

"You know that saying it out loud just makes it more pathetic, right?"

"No — I was worried you'd actually think that if I didn't say anything."

She lifted the teacup, took a soft sip, and tapped the wall with the stick again.

"Alright, our dear Biryu who deliberately took the hit even though he could have blocked it? Now how about focusing on the wall?"

"...Fine."

I drank my tea, having failed to break even, and grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. Behind me, the room was immaculately tidy, bedding folded with knife-edge precision. She was incredibly quick with her hands. In the brief time I'd gone to return the dishes and wash up, she had completely cleaned the previously messy room.

On one wall she had drawn, large as a gate, a systematic map of assault plans for four of Unwol Jiju's branches — something she must have organized in her head while bathing.

No way she did that in that short time.

Not even a day had passed since I'd handed her the map from Jegal Sea. In that span she had not only perfectly committed the entire map to memory, but had extrapolated hypothetical routes through simulated scenarios and rendered them as drawings.

So the title of Munju of the Blood Death Sect, the strongest assassin organization in the martial world, wasn't a lie.

I looked at her with open admiration as she pointed at the wall, holding the same cup as me and blowing on her tea.

"Biryu, besides the map you gave me, I did some digging of my own into Unwol Jiju's five branches."

She stuck a sheet of paper covered in her bold, sweeping calligraphy to one side of the wall.

"Unwol Jiju took its present form more than a decade ago, when five black-path martial artists famous under the name Cheongma Oryun came down from their wandering and seized control. To keep from spilling each other's blood, they divided the established businesses that make up this pleasure district into five categories."

The paper listed the domains of Unwol Jiju's five branches along with each branch head's name.

So Yeomgyo drew a heavy black line through the topmost entry — Yukrim, 1st Branch.

"And the very first of them, Yukrim's 1st Branch, has already been completely dismantled by your rampage. I put in a request with the Lower Gate — abbreviated form, but I double-checked. Confirmed."

"When did you commission that?"

I could ask because I had been with her the entire time. I had never seen her make contact with the Lower Gate separately, and there had been no spare moment for it either.

"The Lower Gate and the Blood Death Sect are tightly linked for survival, not just for trade. Most places have some method of getting messages through to each other. One-time channels, destroyed after a single use. This time, for example, when we finished drinking and stood up, I left a short note about the Unwol Jiju commission on the table. A Lower Gate agent planted as a waiter or customer would have taken it the moment we left our seats. Of course, that particular contact method is now permanently burned."

"And how did you get the result?"

She winked one eye.

"That one's still a live method. Classified."

"...Impressive."

To my eyes she had looked like nothing more than a drunk woman throwing a tantrum, nodding off with drool on her chin. Even then, she had been moving pieces forward.

So Yeomgyo's explanation continued.

"Anyway, the Seven-Night Sacrifice of a Hundred and Eight is a forbidden blood-cult art that offers one hundred and eight children as sacrifices to artificially create a Guardian's gem. As you know, a Guardian's gem doesn't just mean the birth of an eleventh Guardian — it's a destructive spark that could collapse the entire balance of power in the martial world at a stroke. Seven days is not a short time for the two of us to act. But for persuading outsiders and bringing them in? It's absurdly short."

Her face set hard as she pointed the stick at the map of Unwol Jiju's branches.

"In the end, we have to stop it. There's no one else. To be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠precise—"

She pointed at me, then at herself.

"You, Biryu, and me. Which brings me to this."

A faint crease of irritation appeared between her brows.

"Where the hell has that silver-haired Guardian been wandering off to? Of course, there's no guarantee the Seven-Night Sacrifice of a Hundred and Eight is only happening here, so she's not entirely wrong to be elsewhere..."

"...She said she still had to unseal her shackles. She's probably out somewhere far from here, working hard."

"Well. That's a relief in its own way."

"Hm?"

So Yeomgyo smiled sweetly.

"If she'd shown her face in front of me, I honestly don't know what I might have done. Hohoho."

"...Why?"

Still smiling, she slapped the stick into her palm with sharp little cracks.

"While I was being roasted alive by approvals for every report some fourth-rate errand-boy brat was flinging ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around after running ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠jobs all over the place, plus every customer complaint and every ridiculous tantrum, drying up in real time — some man was off holding hands with that silver-haired Guardian, so pretty and pure and delicate, laughing haha hoho and wandering around. Just thinking about it, something hot starts rising from under my heart. Ah, and this is not jealousy, or any other low, childish feeling. Of course not. Who do you think I am? Munju of the Blood Death Sect. This emotion is, in other words—"

—Crack.

The stick in her grip was wrung out like a dry rag under her strength.

"Murderous rage."

"...R-right. Got it."

I swallowed.

So Yeomgyo sighed and tossed the shattered stick aside. She picked up the folding fan from the table instead and tapped her forehead with the tip.

"And I still don't know why an assassin who came here to rest has to do this... Having to play righteous orthodox just for the balance of the martial world. When a forest burns, predators and herbivores die the same, so there isn't much choice — but somehow this feels like the Mount Emei business all over again..."

Her eyes flashed as she pinned me with a look.

"Come to think of it, every time I meet this man I end up doing this kind of hard labor. What are you, really?"

"That's how the conversation turns?"

She rubbed her temples with both fingers in small circles and shook her head, as if it ached.

"Haa. Why is it that among people with red eyes, not a single one is normal? That other one out in the martial world, and now you..."

"Your eyes turn red when you use power too."

She slammed the table and flared up.

"That is not the same! Mine is Flame! Yours is Crimson!!"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard all year."

"..."

A faint flush colored her face. She snapped open the folding fan and fluttered it, clearing her throat.

"Anyway, focus on the operation. Unless you want to die, Sir Biryu."

"Yes."

Her expression hardened again as she pointed the fan at the wall.

"As I said, Unwol Jiju's 1st Branch is gone. What's left are the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th."

"What about the 5th?"

She shook her head at my question.

"The 5th Branch has the heaviest security, so it would eat the most time, and as a venue for a mass human sacrifice of a hundred and eight children, it's the least likely. I ruled it out first. We may have seven days left, but we have to allow for the possibility that investigation stretches because of unknown variables. Hitting the highest-probability branches first is rational."

"What's the basis for calling it low probability?"

My eyes cooled as I locked onto the content. So Yeomgyo smiled, clearly pleased by the change in my face.

"As far as I know, the Seven-Night Sacrifice of a Hundred and Eight is one of the Blood Cult's classic forbidden arts — it requires the absence of sunlight, so it has to be performed underground. We don't know what's under the other four branches, but everyone in this world knows what's under the 5th: a fighting arena."

"A fighting arena?"

I tilted my head at the unfamiliar term. She kept going.

"Of course it could be hidden under the arena, or there could be another level where they hold the rite. Even so, it's more rational to investigate under the assumption that the ritual is happening at one of the other branches first. So from now on, we check the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th. There's also a chance of passages connecting the outer edges of their territories and the surface to other underground spaces. We'll split up and sweep the underground and the surface at the same time."

So Yeomgyo caught the cloth at her throat and pulled it up over the bridge of her nose. A dark red mask. With that single motion, her eyes turned at once into the cold, bloodless eyes of an assassin. She had often told me to count myself lucky whenever she wasn't wearing it. For her, the mask was as good as a declaration of war — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the line that decided how she would face what came next.

"I'll take the surface and the entire perimeter. I can comb every faint current of air, every trace, every hidden entrance without missing a thing."

"And me?"

"Biryu takes the underground entrances down. Follow the one-way passages, check everything, and smash whatever you find. Remember: the goal is to hit the outside and the inside in the same window so they never get a gap to respond."

—Thwang!

The throwing knife she cast punched through the sketch of Unwol Jiju's five branches and buried itself in the wall.

"We start with the 2nd Branch and run straight through to the 4th without stopping. Once we begin, we don't rest for even a moment. The 1st Branch has already collapsed, but they still don't know our intent. They can't tell whether the target was only the 1st, or the whole thing."

Her long black lashes flickered.

"If the 2nd goes down on top of that, they'll realize this won't end with one or two branches and start fortifying. So we begin with the 2nd and overturn them all in a chain."

I followed her lead, pulling the mask up from my neck to cover my nose.

"And if it's still not there?"

"We'll think about that when we get there. Thinking a lot is good, but if you think too much, a person freezes without taking a single step and sinks under the weight of the problem."

Her brief words could have been brushed off as nothing, but I could feel it. Every line was an answer she had distilled from countless experiences of life and death. In a way, it told me more than a single moldy line from some legendary martial manual.

"...You're right."

I nodded.

"Sometimes deliberately stopping your thoughts and just moving your feet is the answer. Someone I know used to say that."

"That master of yours? Or the remnant of the Heavenly Demon inside you...?"

She pointed at my dantian. At those words I felt it again: So Yeomgyo, along with Eun Seollyeong, was one of the very few people in this martial world who knew everything about me. And suddenly I understood — how good it felt to face someone as I was, without having to hide anything.

I smiled, a little uncertainly.

"Who knows."

So Yeomgyo studied me over the mask for a moment, then said,

"...Sometimes when I look at you, you don't seem like a martial artist at all. For the record, that's a compliment. Don't twist it."

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

I asked blankly. The corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smile.

"Who knows."

She mimicked my tone and walked forward, throwing the window open.

"Good. Then let's begin. Keep up close. This will be on a different level from Mount Emei. It'll be a nightmare for our enemies."

"Seven days. Can we stop all of this in that time?"

As if the question itself were absurd, So Yeomgyo set one leg on the windowsill and looked back at me.

"The Munju of the Blood Death Sect and the Heavenly Demon are moving. What in this martial world couldn't we resolve?"

She looked at me and laughed softly under her breath. I felt my face heat. A faint regret for having told her everything that had happened rose as I muttered,

"Shouldn't have said anything. This damn mouth of mine."

"Haha. So — ready?"

Far off, the sun was going down. Crimson twilight painted both our faces. I drew a deep breath.

—Kkagagak.

Steel grated on steel as the Seven Sects Black Pearl Gauntlet meshed and growled. Watching the dusk that announced the beginning of the seventh night, I nodded.

"Alright. Let's sweep them all clean."