The World's Laziest Sword
The latter half of the saying—if your mother went to the island shade to slit throats, it was at the level of a simple “swish”—was forcibly omitted.
Gyeon Po-hui’s palm strike slammed into the solar plexus. The warrior’s chest caved inward as he flew back, yet he lurched to a halt after traveling barely an inch. The hand that had seized his collar the instant after the blow was responsible. One might wonder what sort of trick it was to pin a man like that only to gently lay him on the ground, but the truth was simpler. She had cleanly snapped the ribs while leaving the sternum intact, then laid him down so the fragments would not pierce his organs—a mercy that ensured he would not die quickly but would instead suffer for a very long time.
With the viciousness of a Qingdao killer, Cheong had already reached the realm of a true slaughtering demon and would have noticed it at once. But right now her mind was occupied with cooling the icy rage boiling in her chest.
Bang! The main gate shuddered as if it would shatter and flew open. Two women stepped inside. By then Cheong was already clutching the Gwangju Seonbang’s signboard in a white-knuckled grip.
“Who the—urk!”
Unfortunately for the warrior standing near the gate, he was startled into grabbing his saber hilt. He was one step too slow. The corner of the vertically held signboard was already hurtling toward the crown of his head.
With a wet crunch like a watermelon splitting, the signboard—seasoned by sea wind, salt, and grease—buried itself in the disciple’s skull. Red and white matter splattered across the Gwangju Seonbang lettering.
Cheong’s gaze as she watched him collapse was as indifferent as if she were looking at a pebble on the roadside. She simply thought that when she had caught and beaten one in the marketplace earlier, several had sneakily slipped away. How little must they think of people to remain so complacent, without the slightest preparation, after witnessing that?
Well, it was because the Gwangju Seonbang was a bang—an association. A coalition of Gwangju’s ship owners, shipbuilders, and fishing village heads. The ones who had fled had scurried off to their respective faction’s big brothers, scattering to report to the executives at their mansions. As a result, the news had never reached the main estate of the Gwangju Seonbang itself.
But what did Cheong care? She simply closed her eyes for a moment. Hearing the collective “Hup!” and battle cries, she assumed they must be diligently doing their morning training in peace.
Signboard in one hand and hammer in the other, Cheong walked toward the sound.
In the training ground behind the main building, paved with blue stone, the Gwangju Seonbang warriors were—surprisingly—engaged in a serious training session with their tops off.
“One! Tidal Wave Emergence!”
“Tidal Wave Emergence!”
“Two! Mutual Aid from Above!”
“Mutual Aid from Above!”
“Three! Break free—urk!”
The instructor calling out the forms gasped in horror and swung his greatsword.
Clang! The blade that collided with the hammer head shattered into fragments that rained down on the instructor. That was not all. As he was sent flying backward, the sword shards that grazed him carved long bloody lines across his face.
“Who goes there!”
Instead of an answer, only a wretched scream flew back.
One disciple whose forearm had vanished was shrieking at the top of his lungs, “I’m dying, I’m dying!” as if trying to claw his own throat raw. The screams proved contagious. The cry of a disciple whose knee had bent the wrong way and collapsed. The desperate plea of another clutching his spilling intestines, begging to be saved.
Every time the weapons swung with a heavy thud, screams rose without fail. The Gwangju Seonbang signboard became covered in layer after layer of bloodstains, until red droplets fell steadily, clumping the sand of the training ground.
“Stop!”
The instructor shouted again. It only made things worse. At the command to stop, the disciples flinched and tried to retreat, but Cheong and Gyeon Po-hui silently charged in, tearing, smashing, and piercing whoever they caught before moving on to the next, and the next, and the next.
Finally the instructor himself charged. Snatching a greatsword from the weapon rack on one side of the training ground, his expression was impressively solemn.
“I’ll handle this.”
Hui-mae spoke and stepped in front of Cheong. Cheong gave a slight nod beneath her face veil in reply and swung the signboard at the next warrior.
The Gwangju Seonbang signboard, originally red letters on a yellow background, was now in no state to be legible—red letters on a red background.
Screams and groans filled the training ground. Which also meant there were no dead. The dead do not make noise, after all. Cheong’s attacks were deliberately avoiding fatal vital points.
“Uaaaah! Die!”
One warrior charged in, venting his fury. Whether it was a classmate, senior, or junior who had been struck, his rage was sky-high.
Cheong observed him from behind her veil. The feet revealed stride length and distance. The arms showed when he would extend his weapon. The eyes told her exactly where he intended to cut.
Once you knew the distance, timing, and position, countering was hardly difficult. To an outside observer it looked like random swinging, but at the exact instant the warrior planted his foot to execute his stance, the signboard curved in at a perfect angle and struck below the thigh, buckling the knee.
It was the moment the essence of the world’s laziest sword, the Emperor’s Sword Form, was unfolded using none other than the signboard of a hostile faction.
Crack! The sensation of bones shattering. The warrior’s path bent sharply to Cheong’s right, and he brought his greatsword down hard on an innocent comrade’s shoulder.
Whether he did or not. The indifferent lines continued to split the air. Without exception the warriors rolled across the floor. They were not dead, but they were in states where they would soon die or be left permanently crippled.
After all, what great skill could disciples training together since morning possibly possess? Moreover, before long Gyeon Po-hui returned and covered Cheong’s back.
Thus, what filled the training ground was blood and tears.
“Enough! Stop this at once!”
Someone shouted again. It was a deep, resonant voice carrying considerable internal energy. Yet why did these Sadoryeon bastards always bark the same things?
Cheong tilted her head crookedly and turned her gaze toward the newly arrived expert. She would listen to what he had to say.
With talismans covering her sides and back and only her front veiled, the expert—thinking their eyes had met—respectfully cupped his fist.
“I do not know what esteemed senior you may be, but please calm your anger—”
“So you want to talk it out? With a perfectly good blade right here?”
At the crooked voice, head instructor Bi Seongnak broke into a cold sweat.
The training ground had already become a scene from hell. Everyone was rolling on the ground, groaning and crying in pain, yet surprisingly few were actually dead. Killing was easy, but crippling someone to neutralize them without killing them was at least that much harder. And now he stood before two experts who had beaten them all down without so much as a hitch in their breathing.
Bi Seongnak carefully chose his words. But how many things could an Evil Path bastard possibly have to say? Unfortunately, a common threat slipped out.
“Our faction is under the protection of the Sadoryeon.”
Cheong snorted.
“So? Will that great Sadoryeon protect you? You might as well call for your ancestors. Where is the Sadoryeon right now?”
The Sadoryeon was far away, and Cheong was close. Realizing the Sadoryeon’s authority held no power here, Bi Seongnak quickly changed his approach.
“That’s not what I meant. Perhaps… have we committed some discourtesy toward you?”
“You don’t know who I am? I’m the Tomok Seonnyeo. Today several workers, including carpenters, died. You still don’t know what discourtesy you’ve committed?”
“What does that have to do with—”
“I already know everything, so don’t waste my time with pointless lies.”
Bi Seongnak’s heart sank. There was a leader, but he was closer to a representative among them; there should not be multiple heads giving orders. One of them must have schemed.
Bi Seongnak explained the situation, his voice nearly pleading.
“Therefore, we will identify the executive who plotted this and hand him over. Please quell your anger.”
“A mosquito bit me.”
Cheong said something completely out of context. While Bi Seongnak wore a puzzled expression, she continued calmly.
“Should I track down and kill only the mosquito that bit me? Or should I swat every single one I see?”
Bi Seongnak’s face hardened. Cheong gestured leisurely.
“Here. I’ll give you three moves. You’d better use every ounce of your strength.”
At that, Bi Seongnak quietly drew his saber. A low hum rose from the blade wrapped in sword qi. As expected of a Transcendent expert, a heavy, serious spirit flowed from his stance.
Since Cheong had already made her intention clear, only the clash of martial arts remained.
Bi Seongnak reflected on the martial arts he had built over a lifetime, reviewing his forms. Perhaps because it was a life-or-death challenge, the shape of the sword that had only ever appeared vaguely in outline until now stood vividly in his mind today.
Bi Seongnak’s heart pounded. After overcoming today’s crisis, he felt a strange certainty that he would leap over an entire stage.
Thus, Bi Seongnak grasped the sword form that had risen in his mind. Soon—bang!—the stomp carrying all his power roughly trampled the ground—
And Cheong threw a dagger.
Bi Seongnak flew through the air as if celebrating a victory and slid across the floor. The slide was so powerful that his fingertips nearly reached Cheong’s feet. She quickly lifted her foot as if kicking away filth.
Immediately after, the black demonic energy of the Heavenly Demon’s Dominion Step rose from the Yongcheon point at the center of her sole. Thud. She stepped down and crushed Bi Seongnak’s elbow.
“Argh! Aaaargh!”
The scream rang out twice. Because Gyeon Po-hui, standing beside him, had stomped on Bi Seongnak’s remaining arm.
“Ugh, y-you coward. You said you’d give three moves.”
“I don’t converse with bugs.”
Cheong’s foot filled Bi Seongnak’s entire field of vision.
Exterminating a bug nest was more anticlimactic than expected. Perhaps because of that, her insides were still boiling. Even though she had beaten, smashed, broken, and torn to her heart’s content for the first time in a while, she felt no joy at all.
Why had she put off such an easy task and allowed so many innocent people to die?
By now a large crowd of spectators had already gathered in front of the Gwangju Seonbang’s gate. Screams kept echoing from beyond the wall, and more than a few Gwangju Seonbang warriors had fled pale-faced through the crowd. Too scared to cross the gate, they simply clustered in front of it.
So when Cheong kicked down the creaking gate and appeared, cheers of “Ohhh!” rose from among the spectators.
But perhaps they feared Gyeon Po-hui, who stood close to Cheong. Their expressions were bright, yet they did not approach. That was because Gyeon Po-hui was firmly gripping a man’s hair.
The man—Bi Seongnak—hung limply like a dead octopus, limbs mangled.
Though they could not approach, they seemed glad to see her. Someone called out to ask after her well-being.
“Fairy! You’re safe!”
At that, Cheong let out a soft “pfft,” and for the first time that day a smile spread across her face.
However, contrary to her expression, she scolded in an annoyed voice.
“What, you think this is some spectacle?”
As she spoke, Cheong casually tossed the signboard. The blood-soaked four characters of Gwangju Seonbang clattered onto the wooden planks of the central dock.
“Burn it or throw it away, do as you please. There isn’t a single intact bastard inside, so if there’s anything worth money, take it or leave it.”
At those words the crowd excitedly rushed into the Gwangju Seonbang one after another. For now they were thinking of grabbing a share, but after all, wasn’t what the Evil Path bastards did nothing more than selling grudges to make money? Seeing the trash crawling on the floor, they would think they might as well return the favor as much as they had suffered.
Cheong stared blankly at the scene for a moment, then turned her gaze to Bi Seongnak.
“Aren’t you resentful that only you became a cripple? There’s a separate bastard who ordered it, so what sin does a servant who was merely used have to suffer as a cripple for the rest of his life? Ah, how pitiful is the hunting dog that met the wrong owner.”
Cheong giggled and continued.
“So I have to go crush the ones who ordered it. Ah. Right. If you still have any loyalty left to protect them, you can keep your mouth shut. Guiding the way isn’t that hard, so why would I keep alive someone who wants to die? So. What’s your answer? Where should I go? If possible, tell me somewhere close without wasting my route, will you?”
Bi Seongnak’s expression twisted horribly. Yet separate from that, an obedient answer came.
“To the west from here, there is a great ship faction called the Haegung Daeseon.”
At that, Cheong reached out to Bi Seongnak and spread her palm wide. Gyeon Po-hui adjusted the hair she was holding into an easy position to tap. Cheong contentedly patted his cheek with a few light thumps.
“Good thinking. Even if your limbs are crippled, a living person should live, shouldn’t they?”