The Puppeteer's Bargain
I brushed off the lingering dissonance from the world's familiar yet ever-shifting lore and quickened my pace. Soon, a lavish office rivaling the annex where Dokgo Hwaryeon and I stayed came into view. Spotting me approach the door, a maid stationed at the entrance swiftly spoke up.
"From Vice Military Officer."
"Hm? Let him in."
A man's voice from inside responded to the maid's demure request, granting entry. Before our eyes could even meet, she opened the door and bowed deeply.
"Enough tormenting her. Come in, Vice Military Officer."
"Torment? I was just looking."
A cheerful male voice rang out from the room. I stopped glaring down at the maid and stepped inside. Scrolls soaked in ink and stacks of books filled my vision. It wasn't my first time here, but the scholarly setup still clashed hilariously with the kindly smiling old man facing me, twisting my lips into a weird smirk.
"So, what brings you to this old man's den?"
"Truth be told, I came to ask another favor."
"Ho ho. Sounds like another fine deal in the making."
Whenever I visited, I always brought suitable tribute, no matter the reason. A satisfied smile crept across the old man's face as teacups materialized from nowhere, floating lazily through the air before setting themselves on the table.
"By the way, how've you been using the posthumous disciples I gave you?"
"Of course I've put them to good use. A warrior's body is exactly what this old bag of bones needs most. Heh heh."
"Haha. Glad to hear it—makes me feel good."
We exchanged pleasantries in a warm, jovial atmosphere, but the content of our words was downright chilling.
"Alright, what favor brings you to this old man today?"
"Hm... Since it's you, Elder Sima, I figured I'd ask: do you know anything about Silk Sword?"
"Silk Sword?"
Sima had let his guard down, assuming it was about the sorcery I'd requested before. His head tilted in confusion.
"Yes, Silk Sword. You know, the threads used for controlling puppets or during torture."
"Silk Sword, eh..."
He stroked his beard, eyes closing. With the principal's throat under constant scrutiny, I swallowed hard without realizing, tension gripping me.
If even Sima doesn't know much, this'll take forever to track down... Might have to jump to a new world.
I hid my impatience, waiting as he slowly caressed his beard. Finally, something clicked, and he spoke.
"I do recall something. Thirty years ago, I crossed swords with a Mosan Sect punk who wielded both Silk Sword arts and jiangshi."
"Oh!"
If it stuck in Sima's memory, that guy's Silk Sword technique must've been no joke.
"So, you've come to this old bag of bones to learn Silk Sword arts?"
"You can probably guess why, so no beating around the bush. The Orthodox-Demonic Grand Tournament's coming up soon, and I thought I'd throw my hat in with a new technique. Doesn't look right for the Divine Cult's Vice Military Officer to use orthodox arts even there, does it?"
"Hm... At your level, you could probably learn the Lord's personal arts. Why chase some unorthodox path?"
"I've considered it, but who knows what trouble it'd stir? Can't just gobble it up blindly."
I grinned slyly, and Sima chuckled, understanding my concerns.
"Fair point. Handing the Lord's arts to any talented mutt or cur would tarnish the Cult's dignity."
That was why I avoided the Cheonma Divine Art. Even the subordinate Sima fretted over prestige and justification, despite the Lord once offering it directly via transmission. It was undoubtedly the pinnacle technique, but piecing together my current situation, it might as well be pie in the sky.
Only after Hwaryeon-unnie becomes the Cheonma or we unify Murim will I even sniff it.
Old-school hierarchy ruled even modern reality—what chance did I, an ex-orthodox punk, have learning the top dog's art in this ancient China-inspired wuxia world? Bullshit had its limits. Plus, the points I'd sunk into maxing Sipdan-geum to Superb realm were insane; tackling something equal or greater like the Cheonma Divine Art was flat-out impossible from the start.
Adding a main art now would just stall my growth.
What I needed was versatility—abilities to create variables in any scenario. That's why Silk Sword arts fit my situation perfectly.
The alien sensation in my fidgeting hands made me rub my forearms without thinking. My fingertips felt bare skin alongside a strange texture.
My precious.
Strapped invisibly to my hands was the Joro Spider Gauntlet. From the moment the instructor handed it over until entering the wuxia world—verified via his contact—the gauntlet's prime abilities numbered three: high-rank gear staples like self-repair and invisibility, plus the "Joro Spider" moniker befitting its ability to extrude spider silk.
Plain compared to famous gear, but gates dropped rewards amplifying monster traits, so it made sense.
High-rank gear's material is part of its power, honestly.
The second I confirmed its powers en route here, watching silk spool from the claw tips had me losing my shit.
Master Silk Sword arts, and aerial combat's a breeze. Heh heh.
Given all that, my eagerness shone through in our deal—no hiding my impatience.
"So, Vice Military Officer, you're in a spot where you need Silk Sword arts?"
"Yes, Elder. Name your desired posthumous disciples. You know I deal straight—no haggling."
"Heh heh heh. True. Unlike that simpering Gwang-ma, I quite like you, Vice Military Officer."
"Haha. Gotta help each other out to survive, right?"
Our banter flowed, smiles gracing our lips. From my experience since joining the Cult, Sima was the one I clicked with most. Handling jiangshi and sorcery made him sharper than other elders—and the Cult's cruelest, fittingly. Fantasy black magic territory, after all.
Case in point: when I proposed kidnapping posthumous disciples and returning to the Demonic Cult, Sima was among the most fervent supporters. No need to belabor his rational cruelty.
"So, Elder, what do you want from me? How many bodies to put Silk Sword knowledge on the table?"
"Hm. With you humbling yourself like this, I can't demand too much for your sake. Heh heh."
To me, hostages who just ate and shat were worthless anyway. I straight-up voiced my lust for Silk Sword arts, ignoring their "value," and he laughed, spouting insincere platitudes.
"Good, good. If you're this urgent—uncharacteristic for you—there must be good reason."
"Yes, well..."
"Then I'll match your directness. What I want is Namgung Hyo's corpse."
"Namgung Hyo?"
Stunned—he wanted the body of Namgung Hyo, whom Seol Hwarin had offed.
Something salvageable there?
I'd stashed the corpse in my Inventory for potential eventualities. Was Sima onto some key card I'd missed? He laughed and waved it off at my puzzled look.
"Heh heh heh. What do you think is most crucial for making jiangshi?"
His sudden riddle furrowed my brows, but I answered casually.
"The body, obviously? Jiangshi are mindless rampaging monsters, right?"
"Right—that's the common, well-known trait. Now, what's most vital in sorcery?"
"Hm... Something like the mind or willpower, I suppose."
"Ho ho!"
He exclaimed in admiration at my unflinching response.
"Looks like your talents extend far beyond what shows."
A gloomy glint flashed in Sima's eyes—had I exposed myself unwittingly? I rushed to clarify.
"N-not talent, just what I learned from my master, Hyun-chung Jin-in."
"Ah! Right, you were a Taoist disciple. Heh... Your exploits made me forget for a moment. Heh heh."
Sima's gaze normalized. Sweat beaded down my back—this house was a goddamn minefield.
Fuck, can't say shit around here.