The White-Haired Ghost of the Black Merchant Sect in Henan (1)
I had always been fond of the universe.
Aliens. Alien civilizations. Other intelligent beings. Things like that.
It went beyond mere science fiction.
The question of whether humanity was truly the only intelligent life in this vast cosmos was one that had puzzled countless people throughout history.
That was why the Fermi Paradox existed.
This immense universe. Billions upon billions of stars. Environments similar to Earth. Near-infinite possibilities.
So why had we never encountered alien life or civilizations? That was the question.
There were countless hypotheses.
That we were already being observed. That humanity itself was an improbable miracle born from vanishingly small odds. That the distances were simply too vast for us to ever meet. And so on.
For my part, I believed it came down to distance. Not in space, but in time.
The universe was measured in hundreds of millions of years.
Somewhere in that expanse, intelligent life had surely existed. But it had already perished long ago.
A number like “hundreds of millions of years” carried that kind of weight.
The first beings that could even be called human had only appeared on Earth a mere 3.5 million years ago.
3.5 million years. Hundreds of millions of years.
The gap was staggering. Even if Earth rewound by just a hundred million years, the most intelligent creatures on the planet would have been little more than dinosaurs.
And no one called dinosaurs intelligent beings. Organisms, perhaps, but not truly sentient.
One alternative to the Fermi Paradox was the Dark Forest Hypothesis.
It proposed that civilizations in the universe deliberately avoided contact because any encounter would inevitably lead to the destruction of one side. They feared discovery above all else.
Even if a helpless baby bird cried out noisily in the dark forest, the predators stalking it would not carelessly reveal themselves.
To show yourself was to expose your position and a wealth of other information.
So they remained hidden. They simply waited and watched in silence to see what might emerge.
That was the Dark Forest Hypothesis.
And I liked it quite a bit.
It aligned with my own way of doing things. If it were me, that’s exactly how I would act.
It also mirrored my current situation, having been dropped into this martial world.
Were there others like me in this murim?
I didn’t know. It wasn’t certain. There were a few suspicious clues, but no solid proof.
That was why I had to be careful. There was no need to reveal my position. No reason to announce my existence.
Why would I?
I was confident in my own strength, but no one could say for certain how powerful a potential opponent might be—if such a person even existed.
It was a rather dry, academic line of thought, but to summarize, that was the heart of it.
I was simply exercising caution.
I had no desire to stand out and broadcast my presence to the world. That was simply my nature.
The reason was straightforward: to preserve my choices.
If someone like me existed, I had no way of knowing whether they were good or evil.
They might be stronger than me, or weaker. No one could say.
So I remained careful.
Because if I found them first, I could decide what to do.
That was why I stood atop a building in the Black Merchant Sect, watching Outer Hall Master Jeong Gwang.
A man who possessed strength nearing the Transformation Realm yet disguised himself at the first-rate level, living each day in a blur of activity.
I had no idea whether he was connected to another person like myself who had come to this world.
But if someone was hiding his true identity within the Black Merchant Sect—a faction that was quietly expanding its power in the shadows of other sects—then there had to be something more to him. That was why I had continued observing him until now.
Yet nothing was ever set in stone. This was a situation beyond my control. My current dilemma.
Just how should I handle him?
Kidnapping? Simple. Torture? Not difficult. The problem was that I didn’t want to resort to either.
I wanted to know everything he was hiding.
If I could have bought him an expensive bottle of liquor, sat down for a friendly drink, and drawn the information out of him, I would have done it already.
But that was impossible. If a man like him sensed danger and vanished, there would be no way to find him again across the vast central plains.
So I needed to approach with care. The question was how.
There was no immediate rush, so I pondered the matter further. I had already resolved the situation at Qing Mountain, which meant it was time to settle things here as well.
I couldn’t keep lingering like this forever. It was too cumbersome.
I considered various approaches, but there was simply no existing connection between that man and myself.
Part of me wondered if I should have tried to befriend him instead of hiding and watching from afar. But that wouldn’t work either.
It would mean revealing myself, and I had no desire to do so.
I would remain hidden in the dark forest, silently observing. Watching the baby bird known as Outer Hall Master Jeong Gwang.
My concerns hadn’t changed, and no good solution had come to mind.
With the thought that this would be my final attempt, I camped out at the Black Merchant Sect for days on end, keeping watch over Outer Hall Master Jeong Gwang.
Please. Do something. Anything suspicious.
At the very least, send a secret carrier pigeon somewhere. I could follow it if nothing else.
I had even secured lodging, coming and going while I waited and pondered. This was the sixth day.
That was when I discovered a suspicious figure who was not Outer Hall Master Jeong Gwang.
No. Not suspicious. I definitely knew this person.
The White-Haired Ghost. The last survivor of the white-haired Mount Hua Sect.
There was no doubt. Her infiltration was flawless. Even I had barely sensed her presence.
White hair slipping slightly from beneath her mask. A clearly feminine figure. And a sword engraved with plum blossom patterns.
This was an unexpected bounty, and a smile rose to my lips without thinking.
The White-Haired Ghost. I had wanted to meet her at least once. To think we would encounter each other like this.
The White-Haired Ghost was watching the Black Merchant Sect.
More precisely, she was watching its leader, Sa Gyeong-won.
That’s right. The Black Merchant Sect had been one of the White-Haired Ghost’s targets.
So was this her next objective? Or was she simply scouting multiple locations in search of her prey?
Either way, I was delighted. A solution to my current problem had presented itself.
So now I watched the White-Haired Ghost.
I couldn’t cause a disturbance yet, so I would have to wait until the woman left the Black Merchant Sect.
The White-Haired Ghost wasn’t only watching Sa Gyeong-won.
She meticulously studied the sect’s layout, the placement of its forces, and how many skilled individuals it possessed.
The eyes of a hunter assessing its prey.
That was the impression I received.
Even though the woman was tightly suppressing her energy, her malice still seeped out like a slow fog.
Deep night descended on the Black Merchant Sect, and lights began to go out across the grounds.
Everyone except Sa Gyeong-won and a few others had retired for the night.
After a long while, the White-Haired Ghost finally left the sect, and I followed after her.
We moved along a deserted mountain path far from the Black Merchant Sect.
Once we reached a sufficiently isolated stretch, I overtook her in a single bound and stood in her path.
When I appeared so suddenly, the woman startled visibly and drew her sword in a flash.
Killing intent surged toward me.
It was so ferocious that a Peak Realm martial artist would likely have lost consciousness from the pressure alone.
How vicious. Her grudge must run incredibly deep.
This wasn’t the gaze of a hunter stalking prey. It was more like a wild beast.
First, her realm was confirmed as Transformation Realm. In that case… shall I test her skill?
I was genuinely curious how capable she was. This was probably nothing more than pure personal interest.
The curiosity of one martial artist toward another.
Or perhaps an audition for the lead role in the play I intended to direct.
I drew my Dark Shadow Sword and slowly released my energy.
Enough to prevent the White-Haired Ghost from fleeing. Enough to make her think it was worth fighting and charge in.
Then I released my own killing intent, just as she had done moments before.
A clear provocation. A declaration that she should come at me.
The White-Haired Ghost immediately leaped forward and swung her sword.
Her blade danced brilliantly beneath the moonlight. Changes that bewitched the eye. Countless sword strikes poured down like an illusion.
I see. So this is the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
The White-Haired Ghost’s sword was fast. Its variations were equally impressive.
We exchanged roughly twenty moves in the blink of an eye, and I deflected every strike without bothering to distinguish between real and feint.
Then her stance shifted again. A new technique.
Still brutally flashy and swift.
I finally understood why Mount Hua’s swordsmanship symbolized plum blossoms.
The tiny flower buds blooming at the tip of the blade.
It referred to the endlessly trembling point of the sword.
The blade produced countless blossoms that swirled toward me.
A spring day. Plum blossoms in glorious full bloom. Petals scattering so beautifully in the wind that they would draw gasps of admiration.
The woman’s sword truly resembled that image.
But sadly, these were not plum blossoms. They were blood blossoms.
This should have been a sword that danced with plum petals.
Instead, nothing but murderous intent and the metallic stench of blood emanated from the tip of her blade.
The barrage continued. I kept deflecting every strike.
In an instant the exchange surpassed dozens of moves, and the White-Haired Ghost’s sword form had changed several times.
Doubt gradually crept into her eyes.
Bewilderment. Worry. Fear. Terror.
The growing anxiety that not a single one of her strikes had touched my body.
Her momentum surged. The energy within her sword grew heavier and faster.
It seemed she was finally drawing out the full extent of her hidden power.
The sword of a vengeful ghost. A merciless killing blade.
And as I watched the White-Haired Ghost’s sword, I understood exactly how to stop her. How to make her release her blade.
Let’s see. It went something like this, right?
I swung the Dark Shadow Sword and struck her blade with tremendous force.
The White-Haired Ghost hastily gripped her sword with both hands to block me.
She staggered back three or four steps even as she tried to create distance.
I pointed my sword finger toward her and assumed a starting stance.
The White-Haired Ghost’s eyes widened.
It was only natural. The stance I had taken belonged to the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
I didn’t know every form.
But it didn’t matter. What I needed to show her now was only one stance.
My sword thrust forward. Its tip trembled with precise control.
And the Dark Shadow Sword bloomed with lush plum blossoms across the moonlit mountain.
The White-Haired Ghost flinched and swung her sword in panic.
But my blade moved with equally splendid changes, slipping past her defense.
She hurriedly shifted her footwork to evade, unable to hide her confusion.
Even so, she managed to block my sword.
She wasn’t blocking because she understood the technique. Her body was simply reacting on instinct.
Perhaps it was muscle memory engraved from those long-ago days of sparring with her senior brothers and sisters.
Plum blossoms bloomed. Dozens, then hundreds of flowers rushed toward the White-Haired Ghost.
Despite her dizzying state of mind, she blocked them all.
But everything has its limit.
On a path of fluttering, brilliant petals.
The Dark Shadow Sword came to a perfect stop just before the White-Haired Ghost’s throat.
Had she caught it? The faint plum blossom fragrance spreading from the tip of my sword?
“What is the name of this stance?”
“Twenty-second form… Plum Blossoms Fill the Sky…”
The White-Haired Ghost answered obediently. Had she accepted defeat? From my sword?
Probably. Her killing momentum had softened considerably.
“Was it you who placed the plum blossom branch in the vase at the Golden Heaven Palace?”
At my words, the White-Haired Ghost’s eyes widened slightly. And just like that, her killing intent vanished as if washed away.
Good. She finally seemed ready to talk.
Fortunately, she hadn’t become a complete bloodthirsty monster blinded by revenge.