Awakening in the Cage

Rattle, rattle.

It felt as though I had been jostled for a long while. A violent cough surged up from deep inside me.

"How many times are you going to cough up blood?"

Someone's voice reached me. My entire body felt as if it were shattering. Agony. It was like drowning. I spat out the metallic water filling my mouth.

"Cough! Cough!"

I turned my head and vomited a stream of dark, clotted blood.

"A regular human waterfall, aren't you."

"Think he's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠got internal injuries? He's been spitting blood the whole way."

I opened my eyes. Vibration traveled up through the soles of my feet. The place I occupied was a wooden-fenced pen drawn by horses. That was why it had rattled so regularly over the uneven ground.

Right. A pen…

Locked in a pen…

What?

"Why am I—?"

"Finally awake, our damn young master."

Confusion flooded me. I looked around. A line of martial artists walked alongside, keeping watch over me. Why martial artists? As I studied them carefully, a thunderbolt of shock struck me.

It can't be.

The warriors wore blue martial robes marked with black stripes—the very uniform of the Moyong Family that remained vivid even in my childhood memories. Something was terribly wrong. I sprang up and clung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the bars of the pen.

"W-wait. There's some kind of mistake here!"

"So you've come to your senses. Well then."

A broad-shouldered man with a black headband—the escort captain—scratched his head.

"Young Master Moyong Bi?"

"I-I'm not Moyong Bi!"

The warriors laughed as if they could not believe their ears.

"You really take us for fools. Then what's this? It was lying by your feet."

The warrior opened his hand to reveal a golden dragon broken cleanly in half.

"Unless my eyes are failing me, this is the Family Head's sacred token. Strange, isn't it, finding something like this rolling around in some remote brothel."

My breath froze. I fumbled at my chest. Nothing remained inside my robes.

"And that's not all. Through the Lower Gate we've already confirmed every detail of your movements and features—right down to the three moles on the nape of your neck. We have more than ten pieces of evidence that prove you are Moyong Bi."

I could say nothing.

"Besides, assassins had already come for you before we arrived. Those types never strike unless they're certain of the target—not even a one-in-ten doubt."

A forgotten memory surfaced: the blade that had plunged into my chest like a flash of blue light.

"Ah!"

I clapped a hand to my chest in panic.

"…?"

It was fine. I checked my arms and legs. They were whole, neither broken nor severed. My clothes were rags, yet the skin beneath showed not a single wound.

"Th-this can't be."

The escort captain took my words another way.

"From the looks of it they were third-rate assassins of little skill. The moment they sensed our approach they must have fled."

Third-rate assassins? They had bolted simply because Moyong Family warriors were coming?

No.

Absolutely not. They had known the Moyong Family was coming. Even when they took heads, not a single breath of theirs had wavered. I could make no sense of any of it.

"Where are you taking me?"

"We serve the Eighth Elder of the Moyong Family. He is the one who sent us, so of course we are taking you to him."

My head felt ready to burst.

"Why would he? There's no reason to look for me."

"Are you going to keep pretending you know nothing?"

The captain regarded me with pitying eyes.

"You can't possibly be ignorant of the rumors flooding the jianghu. A new Family Head is being chosen this time, is he not?"

For a moment my mind went blank.

"What are you talking about? The Moyong Family Head vanished a full ten years ago. They would have chosen a new one right after he disappeared. And now they're choosing another already?"

"We never chose a new one after that."

"What?!"

The revelation was enough to turn heaven and earth upside down for me.

"This one really doesn't know a thing."

The captain sighed.

"The previous Family Head vanished so suddenly. Everyone believed he would return, so no new head was selected; the elders ran things on a temporary basis. Only recently did they finally resolve to elect a new Family Head."

"This can't be."

"In a powder-keg situation this chaotic, a stray spark wandering free cannot be ignored."

I heard every word with my ears, yet I could not accept them. Only after a long while did I part my bone-dry lips.

"Then… what were Mother and I living for all that time…"

We had spent more than ten years holding our breath in hiding. And now they told me every bit of it had been meaningless. Still gripping the bars, I slumped against them.

"It's a lie."

The Family Head of the Moyong Family had vanished one day without warning. With the seat empty, everything had begun. The previous head had possessed real ability as a leader and a free-spirited, open-handed nature that everyone liked—yet he was also famous as a man of wind and cloud. His private life had been dissolute; he was known for an extremely free soul. Three women had claimed the title of principal wife, and each of them had a son who could inherit. Once the head disappeared, anyone could have guessed that a bloody power struggle for the next succession would erupt. My mother, a mere concubine, had fled with me in terror of becoming a sacrifice in that struggle. More than ten years had passed since then. My thinking had been shortsighted. I had assumed that with the head gone they would quickly choose a successor and forget an insignificant bastard like me. And all of it had been for nothing.

The ox-cart stopped. The door of the pen opened. The escort captain spoke to me as I sat dazed.

"The Elder will decide your disposition himself tomorrow morning."

They dragged me out like a dog. Without even a single act of resistance I was hauled into a half-basement storeroom and locked away.

Clank.

A massive padlock sealed the thick wooden door. Escape was impossible.

Tomorrow I meet the Eighth Elder.

My mouth went dry. I put myself in his place. There was no advantage for the Eighth Elder in letting me live. Would he spare me at the cost of making enemies of the three women who claimed to be principal wives and their heir sons? Impossible.

I can't just sit here. If I stay still, I die.

I slapped my cheeks with chilled hands. In my urgency I rose on tiptoe, clung to the iron bars, and peered outside.

"Aah, I'm exhausted. Dang Sowi, let's go already."

The Moyong Family warriors who had escorted me stood talking in the courtyard.

"You all go ahead. I'll practice a little before I turn in."

A man with long hair and clear skin—Dang Sowi—answered.

"The mission's over and you're still going to train instead of rest?"

"Yes."

The escorts clicked their tongues.

"Truly, those from the Huashan Sect are different."

I doubted my ears.

Huashan Sect?

It had declined now, yet there had been a time when people named the Huashan Sect first among the Nine Great Sects. A martial artist from one of those legendary great sects stood right before my eyes. He looked younger than I. While I, who had never even managed to join a minor sect, had only dreamed of such a world, someone far younger had already entered it.

"I'm sure you'll be careful, but still—don't go peeping at someone else's martial practice. We'll be going. Don't overdo it and come in soon."

"I appreciate the consideration."

"Let's go."

They left Dang Sowi alone. Silence returned. The solitary figure muttered as he drew something from his robes.

"Haa… Master's constant nagging that even non-mainstream arts shouldn't be neglected…"

It was a single throwing dagger. Beneath the blue moonlight Dang Sowi took his stance with the blade. Though it was not the mainstream sword arts, it was still a martial technique of the great Huashan Sect. Something hot surged in my chest—half awe that swelled the heart, half relative deprivation.

I…

Under the moonlight Dang Sowi's breathing and footwork began.

Ah.

I wanted to see the martial arts of the Huashan Sect. Desire dyed my heart. The days after Mother's death when I had tried countless times to join any sect that would teach me martial arts flashed past like a lantern show. I had been trampled like a beggar. Beaten by servants and driven out. An opportunity I had wanted so desperately yet could never obtain. And this was no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠minor sect—it was one of the Nine Great Sects of the murim, the Huashan Sect. A thin thread of conscience pricked me—that one should not steal another's martial arts—but desire burned stronger. Because it was the world above the heavens that I had longed to see yet never could. Before I knew it I was watching his technique as if entranced.

"……"

I forgot my own plight. I forgot what tomorrow might bring. Holding even my breath, I rose on tiptoe and clung to the cobwebbed half-basement window.

Ssshk.

Dang Sowi's arm moved. His toes brushed the ground as if dragging left and right. The way he covered the center of the short blade with his palm before the throw was distinctive. He paused his breath for a moment, then hurled the dagger with the speed of lightning. And that was all.

"…Huh?"

I thought that was the entire thing. Was the martial art of the great Huashan Sect really only this? Just gripping the blade and throwing. The foot-drag was a little unusual, but that was everything. Just as the sheer simplicity began to deflate me—

Crack!

A dagger smaller than a palm split a tree trunk as thick as a man's waist cleanly in two.

"Crazy."

I understood. What I had judged a simple action was not simple at all. My own level of observation had been too low. When you possess only an ant's viewpoint, even something vast is seen only through an ant's eyes. The difference in level struck me as a physical sensation. Despair approached without end.

So that's a real martial artist of the murim.

My whole body went limp with emptiness.

What in the world have I been doing all this time?

Even with that terrifying destructive power, Dang Sowi tilted his head as if something still displeased him. Soon he repeated the stance with empty hands. I was so dull and backward in achievement that I could not even grasp the meaning of a single movement—like an illiterate staring blankly at a sheet of paper when a Tang poem is waved before his eyes. The frustration made me open my eyes wide. It was a kind of desperate struggle. What mysterious principle was hidden in that simple action? What of the breathing? The stride? The center of gravity? I did not blink. Even when bloodshot eyes filled with tears that ran down my chin and fell to the ground, I did not blink once.

I don't understand.

No. Just a little longer.

Still I don't understand.

Am I truly a hopeless case?

If only I could receive even a single lesson in this wretched life. If that were possible I would gladly die. Even if the price were something worse than death, I would not care.

"…!"

At the sudden voice I nearly leapt out of my skin.

"Who's there?"

A chill ran down my spine. It was a voice that rang in one corner of my mind—endlessly damp and cold, as if crawling closer. It muttered without cease.

That damp thing was less like human speech than the meaningless rambling of a ghost wandering the nine heavens.

Whoosh.

A pain as if my two pupils were being seared by flame struck me. My eyes began to dance as though fire had clung to them. The color of my irises changed. Hot. My black pupils turned into blazing crimson orbs of lotus fire.

Flash.

Red light was branded into my eyes as if engraved. Blood vessels turned scarlet as though the eyes would burst. My eyes burned a vivid red. At the same time a vast, gloomy voice I had forgotten rang through my mind like a great bell.

"Aaaagh! Gyaaaaah!"

My vision was slammed toward Dang Sowi as if my limbs were those of a puppet twisting of their own accord. I could not tear my gaze away.

Ssssshk. Ssshk!

My pupils moved at a speed of ten-millionths of an instant.

My eyes moved madly, chasing every motion of Dang Sowi.

Crrrk-crrrk-crrrk.

I could not even scream. I could not stop.

My crimson pupils slowly returned to black, like a heated poker cooling. My entire body was soaked in cold sweat. Sparks seemed to fly along every nerve. I could not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠understand what had just happened. With trembling hands I wiped my face. In that instant my mind filled with a single flowing vision.

"Th-this can't be."

Every trajectory of every form rose clearly before my eyes. Even with my eyes closed, every movement floated vivid and I pierced the flow completely. The meaning was unmistakable.

"Did I just memorize the forms?"

The Heavenly Demon copies martial arts.