Third-Class Martial Artist
Jang Il, a third-class martial artist, stood there with his mouth hanging open at the spectacle before him.
On the crowded street, shops of every shape and size stood shoulder to shoulder, crammed tight with wares and goods of every kind.
"Wow! So this is Henan, where the Murim Alliance and the Shaolin Sect are!"
It was a sight he never could have imagined back in the deep mountain valleys of his hometown in Hunan.
All along the main road, the clatter of cart wheels and the beat of hoofbeats never ceased.
"Excuse me, handsome warrior! You look like it’s your first time here. Do you need a place to stay?"
A little shop boy looked up at him with bright, gleaming eyes.
The sight made Jang Il feel oddly pleased with himself.
Handsome warrior, huh? Henan really does have a way with its sales pitch.
"Go on, then, show me the way! A man like me can’t just wander about with nowhere to stay while I’m here to fight those Demonic Cult bastards."
"I knew it! You’ve come to apply to the Murim Alliance, haven’t you?"
"That’s right, more or less. Haha!"
The boy broke into a beaming smile and led him into the inn.
Unlike the noisy street outside, the inn was quiet, with only the soft clink of chopsticks and bowls ringing through the air.
Jang Il had been about to take a seat by himself at an empty table, but then he changed his mind. In the corner, he had spotted a young lady with long hair.
He slid into the seat across from her and ordered food with an easy grin.
"Say, miss. Don’t you get lonely eating alone?"
"...Miss?"
At his words, the person seated opposite him set down their chopsticks and looked at him in silence.
Only then did Jang Il get a proper view of the face hidden behind that long hair.
The features were softly shaped and androgynous, but the person’s height and build made their sex plain enough.
Most of all, the voice was unmistakably male.
"Oh dear, I’ve made a terrible mistake. My name is Jang Il. Let me buy you a meal as an apology."
His original purpose had gone right out the window, but Jang Il was still hungry for conversation.
"So, what’s your name, brother?"
"...Socheon. Just call me that."
"Socheon! Now that’s a name that makes me curious."
"..."
"So where are you from? I’m from Hunan, and Hunan, you see, is just one of those places where—"
Whatever he said, Jang Il chatted on and on, while the other man listened in silence.
He talked about his past, then wandered from one story to the next, until at last he reached the part where he had left Hunan.
That was because the shop boy had brought out a mouthwatering spread.
By the time the smell had begun to whet his appetite, Jang Il had closed his trap and focused on eating.
At that point, he decided to show off a little in front of this man called Socheon. He wanted to draw some admiration out of that expressionless face.
"Tell me, Socheon. Do you know why I left my hometown and came all the way to Henan?"
"..."
"Since you seem not to know, I suppose I’ll have to tell you! Though I’m only third-class, I still have a dream. It’s a dream I’ve carried since I was a child, ever since I heard the stories of the Demonic Cult’s invasion of Central Plains."
Socheon’s brows twitched ever so slightly. Jang Il caught that tiny movement instantly.
"Ah, so at last I’ve piqued your interest. Listen carefully. If you want to understand my dream, then you must first understand my painful past..."
He kept talking until the rice in his bowl had gone hard and cold. By then, he had long since forgotten that he’d meant to boast about himself.
"...And that’s why I came to Henan!"
It had been one hell of a long story, but the whole point was simply that he had come to apply to the Murim Alliance so he could fight the Demonic Cult.
"Pretty moving, wasn’t it?"
The moment he finished, Jang Il tried to close his mouth on the food again, but before he could manage it, he had already opened it once more.
"Munch, munch. These dumplings are really something. So, what brought you to Henan, brother?"
Without even waiting for an answer, Jang Il had already decided the other man was from out of town. Not because he had any real basis for it, just because he thought it would be more fun that way.
At last, the Socheon who had been listening without a word opened his mouth.
"The same as you."
It was only a single line, but it was enough to melt Jang Il’s heart.
"What? I never thought I’d find a fellow soul like this in a place like this! Say, Socheon, why don’t we apply together later on?"
"..."
He was a little on the taciturn side, but Jang Il, delighted to have met someone who shared his aims in a strange land, shot to his feet.
"Shop boy! I’ll pay for this friend’s meal! Socheon, you’re my brother now!"
The promise to buy him food as an apology had long since vanished from Jang Il’s memory.
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
While waiting in the long line outside the registration desk, Jang Il, bored out of his mind, spoke up again.
"Say, Socheon, why do you want to fight the Demonic Cult?"
"..."
When no answer came, Jang Il cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Well, I asked because, for me, it’s an old dream and all, but you look like you’ve got another reason. If it’s personal, then that’s that."
"There’s someone I want to save..."
"Hm?"
"There’s someone I have to save."
Jang Il stared at him for a moment, looking faintly dazed.
So this man, who seemed utterly indifferent to the world, had such a purpose in his heart?
"To save someone... That’s a wonderful reason. To go to battle for one person—does that mean that person means that much to you?"
His imagination immediately began to run wild.
Socheon leaving home with tears in his eyes to protect his wife and children.
The figure of him, gazing at the people he loved and swearing that he would save them no matter what.
Jang Il found himself liking this taciturn friend more and more.
And then, just as Jang Il had worked himself up into high spirits and talked at length, the line that had slowly shortened finally reached its end.
The one who met him and Socheon at the registration desk was a young woman worn down by exhaustion.
Just as Jang Il was about to say something, the man standing behind her spoke.
"Third-class. Two."
It was perfectly correct, and yet Jang Il still felt insulted, as though he were being appraised like livestock.
"Though we may be nothing more than third-class, our determination to fight the Demonic Cult is no different from that of any peerless master!"
The shout was enough to make even the listener’s face heat up.
The registration desk fell silent in an instant.
After a brief pause, the woman, now looking even more drained, broke the silence.
"...Please write your names here."
A sheet of paper with Cheongpungdae written across it in large characters.
Beneath it, countless names had already been written.
Blue wind, huh.
At that name, which sent his heart racing, Jang Il forgot everything that had come before.
·
·
·
Once they stepped out of the registration area, a clear sky stretched overhead.
Jang Il took one look at the blue above him, liked it more than usual, and burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! Socheon, we’re Cheongpungdae members now! My goodness, even at this age, it still gets my heart racing!"
Even though he was almost thirty, he felt as though he had somehow returned to childhood.
"By the way, there are still seven days left until Cheongpungdae assembles. What are you planning to do in the meantime?"
"I’m thinking of resting at an inn."
"What? You came all the way to Henan and you’re going to lock yourself in an inn?"
"..."
"Ha! The look on your face means you really are serious. As your brother, Jang Il simply can’t let this slide."
He swore to show this dull friend a whole new world.
"Come with me! There’s somewhere I want to take you. You’re bound to like it."
As he dragged Socheon along toward who-knew-where, Jang Il spoke up again.
"Have you ever heard of Binghwa Seonlang?"
"..."
"What? You haven’t? Then what about Plum Blossom Sword Maiden or the Boundless Sword? You don’t know them either?"
Jang Il had now reached the point where he could hold a conversation with Socheon without even needing an answer.
"Hmm... Then you probably don’t even know where we’re going, do you? Listen carefully, Socheon. We’re on our way to see the future of the Huashan Sect, the number one beauty of Shaanxi, Plum Blossom Sword Maiden, and the equally beautiful successor to the Mount Emei Sect, Binghwa Seonlang."
"Mount Emei Sect...?"
At Socheon’s questioning tone, Jang Il couldn’t help but be startled.
A first-time expression had flashed across the man’s face.
"Haha. Socheon, so you’re a man after all! You can look forward to this. I’ve heard she’s so beautiful it’s like a fairy has descended from heaven."
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
Jang Il didn’t stop until he had led them deep into the Murim Alliance compound.
A tall pavilion stood before them.
The characters for Cheokma adorned the entrance.
"Finding this place was a real pain. All right, let’s sit here and wait."
He sank down onto the dirt and leaned comfortably against the wall, looking as though the Murim Alliance were his own front room.
"Why are you staring at me like that? Sit down too."
When Jang Il patted the spot beside him and urged him on, Socheon reluctantly sat as well.
"What place is this?"
"This is where the Cheokmadan are based. Do you know how much trouble I went through to find it?"
"Cheokmadan?"
"The unit those people I mentioned earlier belong to. Just wait a little, and you’ll get to see them."
As Jang Il wondered what else he might babble about, Socheon spoke again.
"Do you know anything about the person who’s supposed to be the next leader of the Mount Emei Sect?"
"You’ve got very definite tastes, don’t you? Right, Binghwa Seonlang..."
Jang Il paused to dig through his memories.
"Well, first of all, I’ve heard she’s truly beautiful. I believe she’s about our age, and they say her beauty only grows brighter with each passing year. But she’s so cold she’s called Binghwa, the Ice-Flame. Supposedly, all the men who tried to court her ran off in tears."
While he caught his breath for a moment, Socheon was listening with sharper focus than ever before.
Seeing that look of complete absorption on a man who was usually so reserved, Jang Il sat up straighter with excitement.
"Hahaha! It’s been ages since I’ve had such a willing audience! Let’s see, setting aside her looks, there’s also her martial prowess. Binghwa Seonlang was a talent who’d been called the future of the righteous sects since childhood. She became Mount Emei’s successor before she’d even come of age, so there’s hardly any need to say more than that. But she had her share of crisis too."
"A crisis?"
"Eight years ago, she vanished all at once. Some people even said Binghwa Seonlang had fallen to inner corruption. But in the end, she proved herself at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering. She marched all the way to the finals with ease and earned the title Bingbong. Though, of course, that’s a name she’s already passed on to her juniors. After that, while traveling the martial world with the Dragon-Phoenix talents, she reportedly achieved enlightenment and reached Transcendence. That must have been last year, I think. Now she’s settled into the Murim Alliance, and though she belongs to Mount Emei, she plays a major role in the Alliance as well. Quite impressive for someone so young."
Jang Il glanced up at the sky for a moment.
"Binghwa Seonlang was probably chosen by heaven. Meanwhile, here I am, still third-class at this age."
"Anything else? I don’t care what it is, I just want to hear more."
"Haha, you really are serious about this, aren’t you? Let me think. Other than her looks and martial arts, what else is there to talk about..."
Resting his chin in his hand, Jang Il thought it over, then suddenly slapped the ground.
"Right, I nearly forgot this part! Binghwa Seonlang absolutely despises demonic men."
"Demonic men..."
Socheon trailed off in a darkened voice.
Jang Il found his expression odd, but he brushed it off almost immediately.
"On top of that, I hear she’s desperately searching for someone. This is really valuable information, so I’m only telling you. If you want to know about the person Binghwa Seonlang is looking for, you have to go back to something that happened at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering eight years ago..."
Just then, the pavilion door opened, and voices drifted out.
"Socheon! Get up, quickly—right now!"
Jang Il hid himself against the wall and poked only his head out.
But the plan to spy in secret was shattered almost immediately.
Socheon had risen to his feet, making full use of his great height.
He didn’t even make the effort to bend his knees.
Jang Il had wanted to say something to Socheon, but he couldn’t get a word out.
It wasn’t just Jang Il; anyone would have lost the ability to speak at the sight of that anguished expression.
Looking back and forth between Binghwa Seonlang and Socheon, who was staring at her in a daze, Jang Il felt, for one fleeting instant, that their eyes had met.
---