The Emperor's Virtue and the Approaching Storm
They told me to take my time and enjoy myself, but this is ridiculous.
The military strategists had predicted that a southeast wind might blow when the troops set the fires. While they cast as wide a net as possible to avoid taking responsibility, weather forecasting is ultimately a science that relies on statistics from the past, present, and future. The feng shui masters’ opinions were likewise based on a wealth of historical records showing that southeast winds tended to blow around this time of year in the region.
Even that legendary figure from the past, Zhuge Liang, had acted like a shaman, confidently declaring, “The wind will come,” in a situation where everyone would die if the wind didn’t arrive. Later analysis revealed that the Red Cliffs area naturally experienced strong northwest winds followed by a high probability of southeast winds. He must have observed various weather signs—rain clouds from the distant south, insects flying low, fish unusually leaping from the water—and gained confidence from them.
So if Zhuge Gongming had been in that spot instead of a feng shui master, he would have proudly declared, “Set the fires without worry. Tomorrow, I shall summon rain clouds and bring down the rain.”
For that very reason, Cheong was jolted awake at an ungodly hour by the sound of thunderous cheers. It was the kind of roar you’d hear if the national team had scored a goal. (Which would never happen, of course.)
Curious, she opened the window and looked outside, only to find thick raindrops pouring down in the early winter chill.
Scientifically speaking, it was perfectly natural. The summer had been brutally hot. As a result, even though it was winter, the South Sea hadn’t cooled down enough, causing massive rain clouds to form. Those clouds had ridden the southeast wind, only to run straight into the pitch-black smoke and ash-filled hot fumes spewing from the inferno. The acrid sting immediately brought tears streaming from their eyes.
But Cheong didn’t know any of that. The primitive savages of the Central Plains had no way of understanding such natural principles. So they simply cheered wildly and offered thanks for the great rain that would quench the flames.
“Thank you, Buddha!”
“Thank you, Jade Emperor!”
“And since Heaven has blocked the disaster that struck the earth, it must be because His Majesty the Emperor possesses such great virtue!”
From the crack of dawn, people stood in the rain shouting “Manse!”
“Long live the Emperor! Manse! Manse! Manse! Manse! Ten thousand years!”
“May His Majesty live forever! O Heavenly Son! May you enjoy eternal life and boundless health!”
In this land, anything good was automatically attributed to the Emperor’s virtue and grace. On the other hand, if something bad happened, it was always the people’s fault. And if the people needed placating, they could just blame it on the evil woman in the imperial family. Woman’s fault, as usual.
Cheong snorted at the noise. “Manse my ass. The one who ordered the fires in the first place was that very same guy.”
Still, what kind of person was he, really?
It was a question she had deliberately avoided thinking about. If the Empress was right, he would technically be her biological father. But from everything Cheong had seen, heard, and experienced in the gangho, he was clearly not a decent human being. The way the Empress ground her teeth when speaking of him was filled with a woman’s deep-seated resentment, and it seemed he had treated the previous Princess Yeonsul extremely harshly as well.
Never mind that—the state of the country was a complete mess. At the very least, she could tell that the people were treated worse than dogs or pigs. After all, even dogs and pigs were livestock that people raised and only slaughtered when necessary. If they were killing people under the pretense of silencing them, acting like bandits, setting fires, and so on…
But then again… what did that have to do with her?
In the first place, Cheong was Cheong. She had no reason to raise the banner of rebellion to punish the immoral Emperor, nor did she feel the need to write “The foundation of the nation is the people!” in blood and declare, “Our lives exist solely for revolution. Sign here, comrades. The red ideology is but a specter,” while solemnly circulating a blood oath.
There was no reason for the martial artist Seomun Cheong of the gangho to get involved in how the high and mighty governed the country.
Prince Jayu also opened his window and looked outside. He saw the pitiful people dancing with joy even as they were drenched in the winter rain, repeatedly thrusting their arms into the air and shouting “Manse!”
Did they know that Heaven had sent down the flames?
But even if they knew, would it change anything? To them, the Emperor was Heaven itself. A person might resent Heaven, but in the end they cannot escape it. When driven to the edge of a cliff, they can only turn to Heaven and beg.
That was why all the sages discussed the proper way a ruler should conduct himself. A cruel Heaven would simply strike with lightning and burn the world, leaving only tears and lamentation overflowing upon the earth.
So must those poor souls, faced with a savage Heaven, simply beg for mercy and struggle to survive?
‘Well, in the end, isn’t he doing a decent job?’
Suddenly Cheong’s words came to mind.
He had never once considered ascending the dragon throne himself. Though he had shown benevolence in Sichuan, it had only been a desperate attempt to avoid drawing attention. He had never set his heart on improving their lives.
But those people—those foolish, pitiful souls who were thanking the very Heaven that had tried to kill them—
In that instant, lightning flashed across the sky in all directions.
Rumble……!
The thunder followed a beat later, shaking the world. But Jayu’s face had already fallen back into shadow.
Gyerim Sword Sect, Namnyeong-hyeon, Guangxi Province.
In truth, if anyone heard the name “Gyerim Sword Sect” in Namnyeong-hyeon, they would probably burst into laughter. After all, there was already a perfectly respectable city called Gyerim in Guangxi Province.
Gyerim, with its dense osmanthus trees, was considered one of the greatest scenic wonders of the world and the most beautiful city in the Central Plains. It was also the oldest city in the southern part of the Central Plains.
In ancient times, primitive people had been unable to conquer the barren mountains, swamps, and dense jungles, so the only livable place in all of Guangxi had been Gyerim. However, once people built roads for carts and launched boats along the waterways to transport goods, they were able to reach the fertile Onggang Plains hidden within the surrounding high mountains. Thus, Namnyeong-hyeon, the capital of Guangxi Province, was born.
As its name suggested, the Gyerim Sword Sect had originally been based in Gyerim. There were no records of why they had abandoned Gyerim and moved to Namnyeong-hyeon. But one didn’t need ancient records to figure it out. Obviously, settling in Namnyeong—a much larger and more developed city than Gyerim—was far more advantageous in terms of both income and reputation.
After all, if you want to succeed, you have to swim in bigger waters.
And they had succeeded. As the representative righteous sect of Guangxi, their name had shaken the world. When people heard “Gyerim Sword Sect,” everyone in the realm at least recognized the name. Their fame was that great.
Of course, it was still just Guangxi. To the people of the Central Plains, the three provinces of Guangxi, Guizhou, and Yunnan were nothing more than remote borderlands—practically foreign territory. So even if you called them the greatest sect in Guangxi, the only response you’d get was, “Wait, people actually live there? What are those barbarians like?” followed by a chuckle.
Still, they were the representative sect of an entire province. The Gyerim Sword Sect stood tall as the pinnacle of Guangxi’s righteous murim, protecting justice in the province to this day… or so one would like to say.
Unfortunately, everything in the world has its rise and fall, just as the moon waxes and wanes. They say no flower blooms for more than ten days. So even the Gyerim Sword Sect, which had once seemed like it would shine forever, had reached the moment of its decline.
And that moment was right before their eyes.
“Has there still been no word from the Heavenly Flower Sword? When exactly is she supposed to arrive? I know the Murim Alliance is slow, but this is too much!”
The hulking man with arms like tree trunks exploded in frustration. He was Do Dal-jeon, the first disciple of the Gyerim Sword Sect.
“She’ll be here soon.”
The middle-aged man who answered without hiding his grim expression was Kang Su-yang, the sect leader of the Gyerim Sword Sect.
“Soon? When is that?! The Lunar New Year is just around the corner! If the sect’s plaque comes down and she arrives after that, are we supposed to send word back to the Murim Alliance that the Gyerim Sword Sect has been destroyed?!”
“We still don’t know what will happen.”
“Ha! And what can she even do if she arrives now?! Everyone in the world knows this is the work of those Sadoryeon bastards! Do you think they’d be afraid to attack just because there’s one Heavenly Flower Sword?! Or are you saying that adding a single Transcendent will somehow overcome the overwhelming disadvantage?!”
The whole mess had begun two months earlier when a quarrel broke out with a disciple of the Yo Family Salt House. The Yo Family Salt House was merely a minor faction that made its living refining salt, yet they had dared to pick a fight. Then, suddenly, their numbers had exploded, and now they had become the greatest murim faction in Namnyeong.
Even an idiot could tell that the Sadoryeon and those Sadopa bastards were behind it. The moment the Yo Family Salt House, which belonged to the borderline righteous-unorthodox faction, raised the banner of the Sado Alliance, two elite combat units had arrived, along with a flood of high-level Sadopa experts transferring into their sect.
Everyone had sensed that a major incident was coming and had kept their heads down. But five days ago, when one of their female disciples was nearly molested, they could no longer hold back and drew their swords—handing their enemies the perfect justification.
Thus came the final ultimatum. If they did not take down their plaque and vacate their grounds before the end of the year, the matter would be settled in the way of the murim.
“If the Heavenly Flower Sword had arrived before this, things would never have gotten this bad! No matter how crazy those Sadopa bastards are, they wouldn’t dare draw their blades against a divine dragon of the righteous path!”
Do Dal-jeon’s words were not without reason. If the Heavenly Flower Sword had been staying at the Gyerim Sword Sect, the Yo Family Salt House would have paused their provocations and waited. Then they could have asked her to stay a little longer and requested reinforcements from the Alliance. It would have been a solvable problem.
But Cheong was late. Now that the ultimatum had already been issued, if they delayed the final confrontation just because the Heavenly Flower Sword had arrived, it would mean the entire Sadoryeon had backed down out of fear of the Murim Alliance.
If the face of the righteous path was that of a gentleman, the face of the unorthodox path was the savage ferocity of a beast that knew no fear. So the Sadoryeon had also reached a point where they could not retreat.
“Ahem.”
Sect Leader Kang Su-yang let out a low groan. Although it looked like the first disciple Do Dal-jeon was daring to raise his voice at the sect leader, that wasn’t actually the case. He was simply venting the anger on behalf of his master. Since a sect leader could not freely express his rage, it was only natural for the first disciple to read his heart and explode in his stead.
It was then that a voice called from outside the door.
“Sect Leader! That bastard is here again!”
At the report, both the sect leader and first disciple’s faces crumpled at the same time.
Bang!Creak. Thud.
The door, which had been hastily nailed back together, tilted and collapsed to the floor.
“Tsk tsk. Is the door this weak? Here. Use this to fix it or something.”
The scoundrel who had just kicked down someone else’s gate reached into his pouch, grabbed a handful of coins, and scattered them. They were not gold or silver, but mere copper coins.
Like a beehive that had been poked, the disciples of the Gyerim Sword Sect poured out in droves. From among them, the second-generation senior disciple U Na-ram drew her flexible sword and shouted.
“You bastard! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
“Bastard? Ha! How dare a lowly wench from the Zhang tribe point her finger and call someone a bastard? Everyone, look at this! See how this lowly barbarian bitch dares to point a blade at a person!”
The scoundrel had brought a whole crowd of spectators with him. While they couldn’t exactly cheer him on in front of an armed barbarian, quite a few nodded their heads in agreement. Of course, one in every four people in Guangxi belonged to the very Zhang tribe they were mocking, so just as many people glared with fury.
“I have nothing to say to a monkey! Bring out your master!”
U Na-ram bit her lip. It was then that a heavy voice rang out.
“Why are you causing a disturbance in someone else’s grounds?”
First disciple Do Dal-jeon appeared, his massive, muscular frame thudding heavily against the ground as he pushed through the disciples.
The scoundrel flinched for a moment, but quickly erased the fear from his face and sneered.
“Someone else’s grounds? I’m just entering my own house to take a look around. Is there a problem? In two days this will be my house anyway. What’s wrong with taking a look in advance?”
“Watch your mouth.”
Do Dal-jeon’s face burned red, but since he could not draw his sword, he answered as calmly as he could.
“You clearly sent an ultimatum telling us to vacate the grounds before the end of the year. Yet I don’t see a single person packing. There are only two days left until the Lunar New Year. If you leave quietly, you might at least keep your lives. Must you really spill blood before you’re satisfied?”
“That son of a bitch!”
Second-generation senior disciple U Na-ram raised her flexible sword. Do Dal-jeon stopped her with his arm while grinding his teeth so hard they nearly shattered.
The arrogant bastard was Yo Min, the third son of the Yo Family Salt House’s leader. He wanted nothing more than to cut down the insolent whelp right then and there, but he knew that was exactly what the leader of the Yo Family Salt House wanted. The boy was a child who had been thrown away as a sacrificial pawn.
Of course, since his own father had abandoned him, his incompetence was unsurprising. Even as the disciples of the Gyerim Sword Sect saw red, their hands trembled with rage, and their hearts pounded violently, there was nothing they could do but grit their teeth.
Meanwhile, Yo Min—the idiot who didn’t even realize he had been pushed into a trap to die—swelled with arrogance, his shoulders rising proudly toward the sky.
It was then that the disciples of the Gyerim Sword Sect suddenly looked past Yo Min, distracted by something behind him.
“Miss, could you move aside? Why are there so many people? Is there a festival or something? Oh, a festival? Wow, are they having a pre-Lunar New Year feast? Perfect timing.”
“Don’t push, I said don’t push!”
“Whoa, I’m being pushed… what kind of strength is this…!”
The crowd began to murmur. Then, as if parting reeds, a person lightly swept the men aside left and right—
“Definitely not a feast! Braised pork! Steamed pork! Dongpo pork!”
A beautiful voice rang out, full of excitement, as a woman appeared shouting loudly.