For Whom the Hammer Tolls
Who does the hammer toll for? The two gate guards usually stood one on each side, so the remaining man bellowed, “What the hell are you doing! Even if you—”
“Want to fly too? Or should I send you running on your own two feet to deliver the message? Hand over Old Man Ban’s son.”
Cheong cut the guard off. Jegal Ihyeon added to her words.
“It’s his grandson, Sister.”
“Damn it, why does ‘son’ keep coming out of my mouth? Anyway, you can tell I’m stronger than you, right? Want to die gloriously by acting tough?”
“Kuh… You won’t die a pretty death, you bi— Gurk.”
The Namyunpa martial artist had tried to spit out a curse out of pride, but the moment something touched his throat after the distance closed in an instant, he shut his mouth tight.
“Planning to say something nasty? You should show respect to the strong.”
The moment fighting spirit showed, she switched to no-talk mode. At times like this, words came straight from Cheong’s spine, bypassing her brain entirely. Still, the strong could say anything, and the weak would obey.
“N-No, I must have lost my mind for a moment.”
“Good. Go tell them to bring Old Man Ban’s grandson from the Iron Forge. While you’re at it, take your friend who failed at flying through the sky too.”
“Th-Then, could you move this aside first?”
Cheong obediently withdrew the Boksinjeok. The Namyunpa martial artist glanced around nervously before slowly gathering his comrade and fleeing inside the main gate. After putting some distance between them, he suddenly shouted.
“You crazy bitch! You think you can touch the great Namyunpa and still live? Just how ugly must you be to hide your face like that—”
“Nan-a. Isn’t it a bit noisy?”
“……I’ll tear your crotch apart and kill you! Right this instant, ack!”
The Namyunpa martial artist suddenly screamed the slogan of a certain specialized landing unit and grabbed at his own crotch. Ow. Cheong frowned and looked at Dang Nan-a. Even if his mouth was filthy, wasn’t that going too far? Her gaze carried that reproach.
For reference, the soldiers of the Chengdu Thousand Households Office in Sichuan had given Cheong a nickname: the Absolute Witch, the Witch Who Ends Bloodlines.
“He was saying filthy things, so I stopped him.”
This was why one had to watch their words. He tried to tear someone else’s crotch and ended up tearing his own.
“What’s going on! What happened! We’re under attack! Ring the bell!”
The courtyard beyond the main gate was common sense across both East and West. Seeing their comrade become a eunuch right in the middle of that courtyard, the panicked martial artists scrambled for weapons and ran about. Ding-ding-ding-ding! The clanging of metal created utter chaos. After all, signals announcing enemy attacks were designed to grate on the nerves until they became unbearable.
“Nan-a, because of you we’re going to have to fight. If you’d just let me deliver the message quietly, we could’ve taken Old Man Ban’s grandson and left without a fuss.”
“Huh? I just… he was insulting you, so…”
“Alright. Get ready. Jegal and Uimae, prepare to knock down anyone rushing out the gate so we can escape anytime. Nan-a, stay behind me—wait, if you stick that close, how am I supposed to fight?”
“Ah. Sorry.”
It was a cute mistake born from lack of real combat experience. Cheong blocked the main gate and drew Wolgwang-geom No. 8 instead of the Boksinjeok. A large chunk was missing from the middle of the blade, but since the core wasn’t damaged, it didn’t matter.
The sight of Cheong facing the enemies pouring out like a flood reminded her of Zhang Fei standing against the forces at Changban—well, that’s what Cheong thought. Hmm, was it Changban? Changban? Was that the name? Wasn’t it a bridge he blocked? Changban Bridge? Half-Bridge? The Namyunpa martial artists rushed out in a frenzy, looking like an anthill that had been flooded with water.
They formed a semicircle around the main gate. A middle-aged man with an imposing presence stepped forward from their ranks and shouted.
“Who are you people to act so rudely here!”
“Your evil deeds end today! Return the grandson of Iron Forge’s Master Ban, whom you kidnapped!!”
Cheong glanced behind her. The clanging of pots had caused such a ruckus that spectators had already gathered outside the Namyunpa grounds as well. The middle-aged man seemed to have grasped the situation beyond the gate from that sight.
“Ahem. Do you really intend to pin such an outrageous crime on the great Namyunpa? Though we belong to the Sadoryeon, we are righteous martial artists who uphold the law of the land.”
Cheong grinned. This guy didn’t even know the basics of a propaganda war. You had to emphasize the important words so everyone could hear them clearly.
“So now you’re lying too!! Clearly, Old Man Ban of the Iron Forge knelt!! and wept!! while pleading that you people kidnapped his grandson!! and threatened him!! to make weapons!!”
The middle-aged man smiled thinly.
“How strange. But there are so many who slander our sect that even if you shout like that, everyone’s used to it. Wouldn’t it be better not to strain your voice and speak nicely instead?”
After all, the spectators already knew the whole story. His mocking tone implied that even if she tried to incite them, they wouldn’t come rushing in with broomsticks or anything.
A vein twitched at Cheong’s temple. That shameless bastard was pulling the “so what?” card? Her brain, which only worked when screwing people over, began spinning rapidly. Should she go with Operation Cooking King Biryong? Reveal that she was a special disciple and use her master’s name, mention that the Jegal Clan, Sichuan Tang Clan, and Demonic Cult were involved in a group project, and watch them immediately change their attitude and grovel? But that would be no fun at all.
Besides, for a local unorthodox sect, their evil deeds were unusually high, which made them suspicious. Cheong called out to Dang Nan-a in a low voice.
“Hey. Nan-a.”
“Yeah?”
“Those poison pellets, are they strong? Can’t I throw them now?”
“Huh? These are really toxic, though……”
“If they’re the bastards who kidnapped a child and tried to starve an old man to death, it’s fine if they die from poison.”
“Really? Let’s see, wind direction…… It’s fine! So which one should I throw?”
Dang Nan-a sounded oddly excited. Cheong could understand the feeling completely. No matter how many practice blue grenades you threw, nothing compared to the thrill of throwing the real thing.
“Weren’t there only one?”
“I brought two just in case. One’s a choking smoke bomb, the other’s extremely poisonous……”
“Good. I’ll take the extremely poisonous one. Keep the smoke one for when we escape later.”
“Hehe. You’re actually throwing these. The seniors said to only use them when you think you’re about to become a public enemy of the Murim and die.”
And then a round object flew through the air.
“It’s a Thunderbolt Pellet!”
“Dodge!”
At someone’s shout, they all leaped away and scrambled on the ground in complete chaos. Thanks to that, the poison pellet fell to the ground undisturbed, rolled around, and stopped. The Namyunpa martial artists who had been crawling on the ground blinked in bewilderment.
Cheong asked in a lowered voice, “What? Did it fail?”
“Uh, I heard it’s supposed to be like this? They said the really scary poisons are invisible……”
Even as she spoke, Dang Nan-a’s voice lacked conviction. Just then, the middle-aged man stood up. He had been in the center, yet somehow he had already jumped all the way over there and lain flat on the ground—his reflexes were truly remarkable.
“You brats whose blood hasn’t even dried on your heads yet, how dare you mock your elders!”
Having panicked and thrown himself to the ground over a single metal ball was humiliating enough. His shout was filled with rage, vowing to find whoever had yelled “Thunderbolt Pellet” and make them pay dearly once this was over.
“Hmm. Is being old something to brag about? There’s an order to these things too, so when you see a Thunderbolt Pellet, the thought of covering it with your body to protect your subordinates doesn’t even occur to you?”
Since he asked if she was mocking him, she mocked him for real. The effect was tremendous!
“Y-You! You’re willfully ignoring the drinking rules and taking the penalty drink!”
“Penalty drink, my ass!! That’s the number one thing old bastards always say!! Why the hell are old men so desperate to make people drink!! It’s a mystery!! I’m looking for someone to drink the penalty shot instead!! Black Flag—no, Black Warrior, I need you!!!”
Snickering could be heard from behind. Even among the Namyunpa, some couldn’t hold it in and let out a snort before hurriedly covering their mouths.
“Y-You! What are you all doing! Cut off that bitch’s limbs and drag her before me on her knees!”
That was when it happened. Thud. One Namyunpa martial artist collapsed on the spot. Then he began convulsing, pounding the ground with his entire body. The expression “throwing a fit” originally came from “epileptic fit,” describing someone foaming at the mouth and convulsing. This was literally that—pure, unfiltered thrashing.
And the fit proved contagious. One after another, they collapsed, eyes rolling back. Blood tears flowed from their eyes, nosebleeds from their noses, earbleeds from their ears, and bloody saliva from their mouths. In technical terms, it was called vomiting blood from the seven orifices. Two eye sockets, two nostrils, two ear holes, and one mouth—seven holes total, hence seven orifices.
“P-Poison! It’s poison!”
An even greater pandemonium unfolded than before. Like insects fleeing from under a rock, they scattered in all directions in blind panic. Some, unable to tell front from back, even headed outside the main gate.
Cheong’s left arm hung limply while still gripping the Wolgwang-geom. The Namgung Clan’s sword was the Emperor’s Sword. An emperor sat upon the jade throne at the top of the heavenly stairs, looking down upon the world. With a single finger, he could move a million troops. There was no place in the world his most powerful sword could not reach.
Space split diagonally before Cheong. The enemy’s sword that crossed that trajectory was pushed outward by the tremendous force. With the weapon meant to protect his body now gone along with the enemy’s blade, there was nothing left to guard his torso. His lower body collapsed to its knees while his upper body flew up and rolled across the ground.
Cheong swung her sword with precise movements. With a wet sound, a long trail of blood was carved into the ground. Lowering her sword once more, she smiled. Ever since the sword form had entered her head, she had felt strangely fond of it. It was a sword art that responded to the enemy’s attack by drawing the straightest possible line that minimized the angle at which the weapons met. A technique that pushed away and cut down the opponent’s weapon—defense itself became the attack.
Easy to say, but responding to an enemy’s attack meant always yielding half a move and falling into a disadvantage. She could understand why Sword Friend had stubbornly insisted on using only swords. The world was divided into eight directions, those eight into sixty-four, and those sixty-four into a hundred—creating six thousand four hundred possible straight lines. One had to find the correct answer among them. There was no time to be distracted by other weapons.
Still, hmm, Sword Friend. Sorry for stealing the Emperor’s Sword Form. But it wasn’t me who chose it, you know? If you want to blame someone, blame our master, not me.
“Alright. Next.”
Cheong spoke while lowering her sword again. Standing tall and blocking the main gate as she said it—she truly looked like a hero, her coolness exploding in that moment.
“P-Poison! It’s poison!”
“Get the detoxification powder—no, a physician—no, detoxification first!”
“Little brother, get ahold of yourself, get ahold of yourself!”
“You idiot, stay away! You’ll get poisoned too!”
Unfortunately, the Namyunpa martial artists who had been hit by the colorless, odorless extreme poison showed no appreciation for that coolness whatsoever.
Dang Nan-a wins.