The Yongmun Assembly (4)
The first day of the Yongmun Assembly unfolded with fierce matches in both the men's and women's divisions. With the competitors divided into eight groups named after the Heavenly Phenomena, Earthly Changes, Winds and Clouds, and Dragon-Tiger Investigators, there weren't many lopsided bouts between the skilled and the unskilled—preventing any one-sided massacres. It was a miraculous balance, really. With so many duels happening simultaneously, it was a shame one could only watch one at a time.
Baek Su-gyeong watched the martial artists ascending the stage, double-checking notes in his ledger.
"Yunmae Sword… A martial artist from Huashan. Worth watching alongside the Cheongseong Sect's Cheongryu Sword. A-hwi gongja, do you know what the eldest young master's nickname is?"
"I'm not sure. After my older brother went to Huashan, I stopped paying attention altogether…."
"I see. Got it."
Baek Su-gyeong nodded at Yi Jeon-hwi's honest reply. It wasn't hard to understand. With the eldest young master and third young lady's talents so outstanding, Yi Jeon-hwi had been overshadowed. Constantly compared to them, he had no need to track their activities, nicknames, or the martial arts they cultivated.
Yi Jeon-hwi spoke up. "This Yongmun Assembly stands out for the heavy participation from the Nine Great Sects. The ratio is noticeably higher than in previous years."
"I heard even the Eight Great Families sent a large contingent of skilled fighters."
"Are you referring to Yeomdokhwa Dang So-ye from the Wind-Tiger Group or Haeeohwa Jegal young lady from the Earth-Dragon Group, Master?"
Baek Su-gyeong nodded. The Tang family's traits were on full display here too: experts in poison, hidden weapons, and whips. Their unique position as the only orthodox sect wielding poison remained unchallenged. The Jegal family, which prized strategy, was a bit of an outlier among martial-focused clans.
Haeeohwa was said to be the first all-rounded literary-martial talent from the Jegal family since Jegal Yu. That was Namgung Som-in's assessment, at least.
"Come to think of it, I heard rumors that after this Yongmun Assembly, they're handing hosting rights over to the Eight Great Families entirely—maybe even renaming it the Yongbong Assembly?"
"Father apparently held secret meetings with the family heads. In exchange for the hosting rights, they've secured firm control over the Luoyang region."
"The Eight Great Families will become the Nine Great Families, then."
"Haha… Who knows. Our family has close ties only to the imperial palace and merchants—we don't wield much influence in the murim world."
Baek Su-gyeong chuckled wryly at Yi Jeon-hwi's words.
"Still, the Yongmun Assembly is an event the imperial palace takes interest in."
"I hear you've smoothed things over with the princess. Our family may lack murim sway, but we do have considerable pull at court."
"That's a relief, then…."
Honestly, with kings and lords openly bearing those titles in the murim world, one had to wonder what the imperial palace was thinking, letting them be. But the answer was already clear: mutual non-aggression. Just as rivers don't overflow wells, the murim wouldn't directly rebel against the court, so it turned a blind eye. There was a balance that kept things from collapsing entirely. The palace's Gold Guards, Embroidered Uniform Guards, and hidden experts in the Imperial Guard weren't pushovers by any means. Ju Geum-ye had demonstrated as much with her lightness skill right before vanishing from his sight.
"What do you think, A-hwi gongja?"
"It's intense. Even with random groupings, there are hardly any one-sided fights. A few standouts are emerging, of course…."
"Hmm."
"By the way, since the Hwangbo family came complaining to you, Master, it seems some participants aren't here just for the assembly."
Baek Su-gyeong gave a bitter smile at Yi Jeon-hwi's observation.
"First the Namgung family, now the Hwangbo…."
"They must be bothered by the Hwangbo family's antics in volume 7. Wudang Sword Hero's prestige is just too high now…."
"Could be."
In volume 7, the Hwangbo family embodied the typical tiger clan's behavior: plundering talent and exploiting the populace for luxury, something even the palace couldn't ignore. That was the world of Wudang Sword Hero. Hypocritical orthodox sects preached justice and righteousness on the surface while rotting from within. The Hwangbo family was one such clan.
The Hwangbo martial artist was surely harboring resentment toward Baek Su-gyeong for that depiction. Even the Namgung family hadn't escaped criticism. If the Hwangbo thought they'd fare better, they were sorely mistaken.
"That said, I only have one thing to say to them."
"What's that?"
"No matter how much Wudang Sword Hero is revered as a martial scripture among fighters, at its core, it's just fiction."
Baek Su-gyeong's words were cold.
"Finding truths in it is the murim world's prerogative. But if they're going to overimmerse, projecting fiction onto reality and then blame me for it…."
Yi Jeon-hwi saw it: the icy smile spreading across Baek Su-gyeong's lips.
"There's a limit to inverting guest and host. If they'd accumulated good karma, they'd be free of such slander. It's just karmic retribution in the end."
"M-Master."
"It's just my opinion."
Baek Su-gyeong had chosen to feature real clans and sects in his near-fictional novel, so they had a point. From their perspective, their family or sect had been insulted, giving them plenty to argue about.
The cold smile softened into a bitter one.
"But I'm in no position to judge them. I can't just chase away the complainers. I'll have to make time to meet them."
"Then…."
"In the end, my thinking was shortsighted. I should have nailed it down from the start: pure fiction, utter make-believe."
Even then, reactions might have been similar. Baek Su-gyeong pulled out his ledger and turned his gaze back to the dueling platform. An intense match was underway.
"Haomen rats have slunk into Luoyang…."
"My apologies."
The warrior in blood-red robes narrowed his eyes at the subordinate bowing his head. The war the orthodox sects called the Great Demonic Cult Clash—a humiliating defeat. Afterward, the jianghu forgot them. The sun and moon lost their light, the stars abandoned them. The Ilwol Divine Cult, which worshipped sun, moon, and stars, had fallen.
Even in collapse, they hadn't given up, but the hardship proved too much. The Ilwol Church split in two: one becoming the Blood Cult that served the Blood God, the other carrying on the orthodox Ilwol Divine Cult's lineage.
Over two hundred years had passed since the schism.
"Haomen vermin hiding in orthodox territory… Do they think they'll survive?"
"It seems so."
"We should have slaughtered them all right there."
Killing intent laced the man's voice. When the orthodox scum mocked them as "demons," they should have erased them from the jianghu entirely. Killing the Haomen was merely a foundation. Already, one sub-division of the Mad Blood Corps—five hundred strong—had infiltrated Luoyang.
Perfect timing, with the orthodox juniors gathered, forgetting the seasons to frolic in a duel tournament.
"If not for that freak from Tianshan, we wouldn't be delayed like this…."
The subordinate kept his head bowed, unable to lift it. Tianshan was vast. Any path from Oromokje to the Central Plains passed through its broad mountains. But after the old murim's history was severed by the Great Demonic Cult Clash and the new murim arose, Tianshan had no master.
That was true—until that freak appeared before the man.
'That bastard….'
He wielded bizarre martial arts never seen before. Had he inherited the long-extinct Tianshan Sect's techniques? The three great Tianshan martial veins: Tianshan Flying Bird Palace, Tianshan Ice Palace, and Tianshan Sword Sect. After the old murim's history ended, the Tianshan Sect was never rebuilt.
It should have been that way. Shaking off those thoughts, the man turned to his subordinate.
"Where's that worthless scribbler's book?"
"Here it is."
The subordinate offered up volume 8 of Wudang Sword Hero from his bosom. The man took it, a cold smile curling his lips.
"The orthodox fools treat this like a sacred relic, eh?"
"Yes."
"I didn't understand why they valued it so much until I read it. But if it contains even the subtleties of military strategy, it's no mere scribble. A divine scripture, indeed."
It detailed martial arts lineages and the arts of commanding soldiers. No mere scribble. And it delved into stratagems too—could this truly be called a novel?
"The author was just some lowly scholar, right?"
"Yes."
"He revived Wudang's forgotten sword. The old murim's Wudang was purged long ago, its insights buried in the abyss and burned away."
The man's eyes gleamed with a mystical blood-red light, wild with fervor.
"Orthodox scum, Haomen trash, and even that arrogant imperial princess all gathered in one place—perfect tribute for the Lord."
"Shall we take them alive?"
"The imperial Nakbong Gunju is here. A fine opportunity. Time to remind the jianghu the Church endures."
The man laughed, clutching Wudang Sword Hero. Haomen was the first step, but merely the opening gambit in conquering the Central Plains. Haomen was the foundation for him and the Mad Blood Corps' entry—and an excuse.
They were the Asura Blood Cult, worshippers of the Blood God Asura. The imperial rebel princess Nakbong Gunju's blood would surely please Lord Asura.
"And keep that scholar alive, no matter what."
"To bolster the Church's forces?"
"Of course."
Proficient in martial arts lore and even military subtleties. The Jegal family, self-proclaimed heirs to Zhuge Liang who once dominated before the imperial rise, were all thick-headed, yet oddly, a mere scholar seemed to inherit it.
The man licked his lips.
"Send word to the Demon Wolf Corps too. Exterminate every orthodox participant in this duel tournament. All of them. Understood?"
"Your command!"