The Nine Killing Stars Kneel
“Ha… uhahah!”
Cha Ryu-ja threw his head back and roared with thick, guttural laughter. The iron mask that left his jaw exposed rattled and clattered against the bridge of his nose. He laughed for a long while. Behind me, sparks from the burning millhouse climbed into the sky like dying fireflies.
I spoke.
“I don’t know what’s so funny, but you look like you’re having a wonderful time.”
“Funny? Of course it’s funny. Hilarious.”
Cha Ryu-ja twisted his chain-sickle in his grip.
“Some bastard born of a mistress, a brat who crawled out of who-knows-where after nearly dying a dozen times, suddenly pops up in this backwater hole and starts running his mouth like he belongs here. That’s what’s funny.”
His eyes narrowed. He seemed to be tasting the storm of internal energy pouring off me.
“…Fine. I’ll give you that much. That level of energy isn’t mere heat haze—it even pulls the air itself. Faint as it is, most martial artists would lose the will to fight the moment they felt it.”
“….”
The White Lotus Demon Sect artifact in my hand—Myeolseom—used internal energy as a medium to make its serrated blades vibrate. Its cutting power was unmatched, but simply holding energy inside the weapon itself demanded a monstrous amount of qi. I hadn’t even fully revealed the true aura of the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap, and whatever energy remained after the artifact drank its fill, Cha Ryu-ja seemed to take as the entirety of what I could release.
I clicked my tongue.
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Judging by that look, you must’ve stumbled on some miracle elixir, or maybe you picked up a high-level art while you were briefly playing at Cheonsubaekryeonsa and now you’re riding high on it. Brat.”
He leveled the weighted end of his chain at me.
“A true clash between martial artists isn’t decided by internal energy alone. You stupid little fool.”
“Then what else is needed?”
Beneath the iron mask, the corner of his exposed mouth curled into a full sneer.
“Trash like you, born third-rate, wouldn’t understand even if I told you. But as a parting gift before you become feed for this chain-sickle, shall I tell you on your way to the underworld?”
I asked calmly.
“What is it? I’m genuinely curious.”
“Keh-keh.”
Cha Ryu-ja lowered his voice.
“For a martial artist, the most important thing isn’t martial arts or internal energy. It’s the sensation—the instinct—built drop by drop through life-and-death battles.”
“….”
He spoke with swelling pride.
“And that is something a soft flower raised in a sunny garden like Cheonsubaekryeonsa, protected and pampered its whole life, could never even dream of acquiring. Only the rough world forges it.”
Wind stirred.
“….”
I kept silent. Mumyeong kept silent as well.
“A flower in a garden, is it.”
I looked up. The autumn sky was a clean, endless blue. Not a single cloud. Here in the northernmost reach of the Central Plains, so close to the borderlands, the seasons raced far faster than in the heartlands. Every tree at the edge of sight had already turned, leaves falling, bare branches already clawing at the sky. Above those skeletal limbs the blue stretched like an open sea.
Crack.
It was the same sky as the first memory of my life—the winter sky—so for a moment the two overlapped. The air felt cold and bone-dry. Every breath scraped my throat. When I exhaled deeply, white mist rose and scattered.
I looked at the sky. I looked at the ground. Right. Left. Then I looked down at my own hands—hands hammered against granite until they had become like a bear’s paws—and opened my mouth.
“I don’t have a family who can say things like, ‘Tell me everything that happened today. What was hard? You did well even though it was hard. What will you do tomorrow? Good work today….’ So of course something like blood kin doesn’t exist for me in this world.”
“…Huh?”
“What you just said.”
I raised my head and faced him squarely.
“If there were someone who had watched every single day I’ve lived until now… they would have laughed at those words.”
“….”
The corner of Cha Ryu-ja’s mouth stiffened. He growled.
“You little shit… spouting nonsense no one can understand—”
“I hate pointless detours more than anything. But this… this feels like a denial of every day I’ve walked, so I can’t let it slide.”
Clank.
I slid Myeolseom back into the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap. The black-clad martial artists surrounding Cha Ryu-ja murmured among themselves.
“He’s putting the weapon away?”
I raised my right hand—the one wrapped in black bandages—and flicked my fingers at him.
“That sensation you talked about. The one forged through life-and-death fights in the rough world.”
I crooked a bare finger at Cha Ryu-ja.
“Show me. Let’s have a look.”
“…!”
Fire blazed in Cha Ryu-ja’s eyes. He ripped the iron mask from his face and flung it aside.
“Lord Cha Ryu-ja…? The mask—!”
“No one interferes.”
His brow was furrowed tight. Veins stood out from his neck all the way to his forehead.
“I’m grinding that bastard into paste and drinking him today. That’s my vow.”
I slowly widened my stance.
Flutter.
I hiked up the whipping hem of my martial robes and clasped one hand behind my back. I set my body in a straight line facing him, raised my right hand into position, and spoke quietly.
“Come.”
“You insolent pup—!”
Cha Ryu-ja’s roar tore the air.
“To dare provoke me without even drawing a weapon! That arrogance!”
Shrrraaak!
The chain bound to his arm thrashed like a snake gone mad after being struck by an axe.
“Pay for it with your life!”
The fist-sized steel weight at the end of the chain danced upward and was hurled in a single breath.
Whoooom!
The rusted steel weight flew in a dead-straight line for my skull. My face stayed calm. I did not move. I did not even blink. I simply watched the weight come. I made none of the instinctive flinches a normal person would have made. The broad, rusted face of the weight filled my pupils. Still I did not move. It came to the tip of my nose. Still I did not move. The weight pressed against the end of my nose as if it would crush it, power building to smash straight through my skull.
One of the watching martial artists shouted.
“Puh—look at him! Frozen solid, can’t even—”
Crrrunch.
My molars clenched hard enough to crack. In the same instant my body spun like lightning.
Flutter!
My sleeve cracked like a whip. Both arms crossed; an elbow loaded with my entire weight smashed down onto the steel mass right in front of my face.
KWAANG!!
Shattered metal sprayed past my cheek. Skin split; blood ran. Cha Ryu-ja’s mouth fell open. Every mouth around us fell open.
“…He… stopped a steel weight… with his bare body?”
“You seem to be under a misunderstanding. I’m not the only one who’s going to be unarmed.”
Through the torn cheek and the blood, I stared at him with bloodshot eyes.
“You’re going to be bare-handed too.”
“…W-what?!”
“If you’re a man who’s walked through life-and-death battles, we should get properly close. You’ve heard of them, right? The three forms of death that every martial artist would rather avoid—the three great humiliations.”
I brushed metal dust from my elbow.
“Dying by hanging. Dying with every meridian severed. And finally—”
My body shot forward like a black arrow.
Papapat!
My toes kicked the earth, then the undergrowth. My frame dropped until it was nearly parallel with the ground.
“Th-that speed—!”
In a blink I was right in front of Cha Ryu-ja’s face. I shoved my own face into his.
“Dying to bare hands that aren’t even weapons.”
“You bastard—!”
One of his hands frantically hauled the chain back. The sickle swept. I leaned my head aside. The blade tore a blue line through the air.
Shrrraak!
The recovered heavy chain became a single whip and lashed toward me.
Pabat, pat!
I stepped half a pace back and slipped the sickle that would have taken my throat.
Rip!
My collar tore. The chain licked for my shin. I hopped lightly over it; it left a mark on the greave. In an instant eight attacks shredded the air around my body.
“You rat bastard!”
Cha Ryu-ja attacked like a madman, shouting.
“You’re good at dodging, I’ll give you that!”
“Dodging?”
The sickle stabbed for my forehead. My hand vanished. I slapped the flat of the blade with my palm, then drove my thumb hard into the inside of his wrist.
“Keuk!”
Cha Ryu-ja scowled and retreated.
“Ha! Felt like a little girl pinching me.”
“What you thought was an ordinary blood vessel on the inner wrist is actually the tendon that lets you close your fingers.”
“…!”
Clatter.
The sickle slipped from his violently trembling hand.
“I just paralyzed the act of gripping in your right hand. From this moment on, that hand will never close again.”
“Th-this—!”
He tried to pick the sickle up again, but his fingers refused to curl.
Pabat!
My black shadow occupied the space in front of him like lightning. Tempered fingers seized the protruding collarbone at the front of his shoulder and twisted until it snapped.
“Aaaagh!”
“With this, your left arm will never move again.”
Thud.
As if every bit of strength had left it, his left arm flopped uselessly. Panicking, Cha Ryu-ja tried to stumble backward.
Gulng.
My body swayed like a dancing shadow and slid to his side. My palm cupped over his right ear like a lid. Over it I swung my fist like a hammer.
Puhng!
Beeeee…
Cha Ryu-ja staggered. I spoke coldly.
“Balance sense—paralyzed.”
Thud-thud-thud!
He toppled bonelessly onto his back.
“You…! I-I’ll kill you!”
He rolled, trying to rise in a broken crouch. I followed and formed a hand-blade.
Seok!
The outside of his right knee—bent to push off the ground—was carved open in a spray of blood.
“Kraaagh!”
“Your right leg will no longer support the force of a push-off.”
Cha Ryu-ja rolled to the right like a child, body caked in dirt.
“Impossible….”
The martial artists who had watched it all muttered.
“Lord Cha Ryu-ja….”
“The fight barely started and he’s being treated like a little kid.”
“He can’t even control his own body….”
Cha Ryu-ja’s face flushed purple with rage, yet of his entire body only the left leg still answered him. He writhed like a worm.
“Y-you… y-you—!”
My shadow fell across his face.
“Th-this isn’t fair! It’s a sneak attack! A sneak attack, you cowardly bastard!”
He crawled, desperately trying to put distance between us.
“I haven’t even shown half my real skill! This doesn’t count!”
He screamed.
“My skill doesn’t end this emptily!”
“I know. You haven’t shown your real skill.”
“…What?”
Cha Ryu-ja froze and looked up at me. I looked down at him.
“If you’ve lived in the rough world you should already know. The biggest difference between a life-and-death fight and a spar is that the other side doesn’t wait for you.”
“Ah… aaaah!”
“Do you know who I am?”
He swung the only limb that still moved—his left leg—at me. My body gave a wet, fluid shift; a ghastly shadow danced.
“W-what kind of grotesque movement is—!”
I seized his left leg.
“Today, and only today, I am the greatest physician in the Central Plains, here to wish every joint of your limbs a peaceful farewell.”
I twisted. From ankle to thigh, every joint burst and snapped like bamboo exploding under torsion.
“Uwaaaaaagh!!”
Terror finally swam in those eyes that had always been so cold. He looked toward his subordinates.
“W-what are you doing?! Th-this freak—!”
My movement stopped. Cha Ryu-ja howled.
“Everyone attack! Kill this bastard right now!”
“…!”
The martial artists stirred. One of them hesitated, flustered.
“B-but… Lord Cha Ryu-ja clearly said not to interfere. And this is a one-on-one between martial artists—”
“Shut up!”
Cha Ryu-ja bellowed.
“I remember your face! Anyone who disobeys my order is disobeying Lord Moyong Jinryong! You want to watch me die?!”
They faltered, then one by one drew their swords and began to encircle me. Murderous intent pressed the air flat. I let out a short sigh.
“I didn’t expect much, but even on the road to death you’re still this pathetic. You, and all of them.”
Cha Ryu-ja glared at me with eyes full of venom.
“You may have some clever hands, but let’s see how long you last against this many!”
His blood-flecked voice rang across the clearing.
“This one is no orthodox man! Every single thing he does reeks of the unorthodox—no, of the Demon Sect! Demon Sect filth isn’t even human! Kill him! Kill him!!”
That was when it happened.
“That vermin may be worthless in every other way, but his eyes, at least, are sharp.”
I raised my head. The voice was rough and, at the same time, utterly calm.
“All of you—drop your weapons. Unless you want to die.”
On the hill above, black silhouettes rose one by one. They appeared in a loose circle, as if enclosing us.
“…Wh-what? Who the hell are these—?!”
Cha Ryu-ja and every martial artist with him stared upward in shock.
“I didn’t sense a single presence…!”
“Wait… this energy….”
A choking, drought-dry aura settled over the earth and sealed every mouth. Five shadows. They spoke one after another.
“In our lives, being the ones who give a warning first is a new experience.”
“Normally we skip the questions and just take the head.”
“If he weren’t of the same house as Him—”
Crimson eyes flickered from every direction. Eyes that looked almost exactly like mine—kin-red. I blinked.
“You lot….”
“It has been a long time.”
The one at the very front ignored the Moyong Family martial artists completely and dropped to one knee before me with perfect formality.
“I, Ilho, representing the Nine Killing Stars, offer greetings to the one we shall serve as our lord.”