The Wind Blowing in Anhui (5)
“Did you summon me?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Namgung Gijin slowly stepped into Namgung Myeong's chambers. It felt a bit awkward that Namgung Myeong, a mature warrior in his fifties, called the rejuvenated Namgung Gijin—now looking like a man in his mid-twenties—his uncle.
The middle-aged nephew offered tea to his youthful uncle.
“Please, have some.”
“Just tell me why you called me here. I don't have time with all my training. Aigoo.”
“...Uncle, have you heard the news?”
“Why beat around the bush? What news?”
“The children of the Cheongan Twelve Swords have all achieved enlightenment. Every one of them. Those who were at the first-rate realm have all reached the peak.”
“Hmm. Is that so? That's worth celebrating. But tell them not to get arrogant and to train even harder. Well, I'll be off then.”
As Namgung Gijin offered perfunctory congratulations and rose to leave, Namgung Myeong urgently grabbed his sleeve.
“Aigoo, why do you keep trying to leave like that? Isn't this all because of that child Yeon you brought here?”
“Hmm.”
“What in the world happened? Gaining martial enlightenment through Go, of all things? And all at once like that. Did you know the child had this kind of ability? Then... uh...?”
As Namgung Myeong rattled off questions to himself, a look of sudden realization dawned on his face.
He stammered, “N-No way. Don't tell me... your own ascension to a higher realm was because of that child too...?”
Namgung Gijin replied indifferently, “Keep it a secret that not only I, but the young ones' breakthroughs, are thanks to Yeon. I was just about to go make sure their mouths are sealed.”
“...What.”
Stunned, Namgung Myeong froze awkwardly in place. He'd asked just in case, but to think that girl had granted enlightenment not just to the young sword prodigies, but even to the Glorious Sword Lord himself. What kind of absurd nonsense was this? If word got out, others would lose their minds—
“Ah.”
Realizing how far that thought led, Namgung Myeong clamped his mouth shut. Namgung Gijin nodded slowly at the sight.
“You understand. If you don't want to fight the entire martial world, it must remain a secret. I'll do the same. I'll meet with the Cheongan Twelve Swords and give them a stern warning myself.”
“Yes...”
Even a single spirit pill could spark bloodshed among warriors. The emergence of a child who could forcibly elevate realms? That would mean battling the entire martial world—no exaggeration. On the flip side, keeping Yeon under the Namgung roof would soon elevate the Cheongan Namgung Family to prominence across the Central Plains.
Namgung Myeong found himself admiring Namgung Gijin anew.
How remarkable must this man be? No wonder he turned the Damuk Family upside down and left the Baek Family head half-crippled.
When he'd first heard about Gijin wreaking havoc on those two clans, he'd torn his hair out, inwardly wailing about cleaning up an old man's mess. But now, it made perfect sense. To bring a child like that into the Namgung fold, he'd have done the same.
As the shocked Namgung Myeong trembled, oblivious to his thoughts, Namgung Gijin nodded to himself.
“Hmm. I should warn Yeon too. She can't just grant enlightenment to anyone anymore. Well, I'll be going now.”
Namgung Myeong's face went blank for a moment. Can't grant enlightenment to just anyone anymore? True enough, but did he have to cut it off there?
“W-Wait a second, Uncle!”
“Hm?”
Resolved to reprimand the young swordsmen not just for secrecy but also for daring to doubt an elder's words, Namgung Gijin turned to leave—only for Namgung Myeong's desperate voice to stop him.
“Just one last thing... what about me?”
“......”
“...I'm afraid the young ones will catch up. As family head, I need to maintain some dignity...”
As moisture gathered in Namgung Myeong's eyes, Namgung Gijin reluctantly nodded.
“Fine. I'll put in a word for you.”
“Th-Thank you!”
Beaming, Namgung Myeong expressed his gratitude repeatedly. After that secretive conversation, it was only natural that Yeon received unwavering support from the Namgung family head and all the young Namgung warriors.
Martial artists call themselves xia—righteous wanderers. They claim to aid the weak, stand against the strong, and wield their swords for justice. They say there's righteousness in the rivers and lakes, a proper way in the martial world. Their ideals do shine brightly, to be sure.
But Yeon knew well that their words didn't match their deeds. The Beggar Clan disciples bullying even weaker beggars, Damuk Jeong, Damuk Hun—they were all the same. And though she hadn't witnessed them herself, she'd heard and seen dozens of atrocities by martial artists. She wondered if there truly existed any who upheld this so-called xia as true warriors.
Her previous world had them too. Small-time thugs were called gangsters or punks; larger ones, Triads, Mafia, Yakuza, depending on the country. To Yeon, there was no difference between martial artists and those groups. The reason these martial artists could rampage more freely in this world was simple: the gap in power.
In an era without modern weapons, the strength from their self-divided realms—first-rate, peak, and so on—was near-absolute authority. Realizing lives could shatter on their whims, Yeon resolved to devote her life here to protecting the powerless. Her first step was right beside her now: recruiting the Cheongan Twelve Swords.
“Big brother?”
“Hm? What is it?”
As Yeon glanced at him, Namgung Shinyeop—still harboring guilt toward her—replied softly.
“Are you a righteous wanderer, big brother?”
“What? Haha, why ask so suddenly?”
“Please answer.”
“I'm lacking, but I strive to live that way.”
“What is xia then?”
“...Hmm.”
Catching his little sister off-guard with a question about righteousness, Namgung Shinyeop pondered briefly. He could give a cursory answer, but as her big brother—and the Namgung young lord—he wanted to appear more impressive. His longstanding beliefs as heir made the deliberation short.
“It's when the strong stand with the weak. Not ignoring injustice. Sometimes bearing personal loss to do what's right. That is xia.”
Yeon nodded slowly at Namgung Shinyeop's proud declaration, then turned to the other Cheongan Twelve Swords, who had been listening intently.
“I see. Do the rest of you big brothers think the same?”
“The young lord's will is our will, and his words ring true.”
“Of course we do.”
As the Cheongan Twelve Swords answered confidently, Yeon tossed out an unexpected question.
“I see. Then, big brothers, what do you think of the unorthodox sects? I've only heard stories, never met them.”
“...Curious why you'd ask, but they're scum not worth associating with.”
“They're the ones committing human trafficking, robbery, murder without a second thought.”
“Yeon, never get involved with the unorthodox. We'll protect you, of course.”
Amid their unanimous, colorful condemnation regardless of reason, Yeon tilted her head.
“Then... if an orthodox warrior bullies the powerless, but an unorthodox one stops it, who's right?”
“......”
Silence fell at the innocent question from their young sister. As they struggled for words, Namgung Shinyeop slowly spoke.
“We'd need context. The weak might have committed a grave wrong or colluded with the unorthodox.”
“What if they're truly innocent commoners, no ties at all?”
“...Then the orthodox warrior is wrong. Based solely on your hypothetical, that is.”
Smiling at Namgung Shinyeop, who wouldn't admit an unorthodox warrior could be right even on pain of death, Yeon said, “Just as I thought. Come with me somewhere, big brothers.”
“...?”
Leaving the uneasy young Cheongan Twelve Swords behind, Yeon stepped forward with her small feet.
Boom—
With a thunderous crash, the main gate shattered, and a group whirled around in alarm.
“Wh-What the—?!”
“Which mad bastards dare attack Jeong Manor—gasp!”
“Mad bastards, you say?”
“......”
They couldn't utter a single complaint despite their manor's gate being wrecked because of the four characters emblazoned on the intruders' right shoulders.
Cheongan Namgung.
Under Anhui's skies, who could call bearers of those words madmen?
Jeong Seop, lord of Jeong Manor and head of the minor sect, stepped forward.
“Masters of Namgung, to what do we owe this visit...?”
Then, the Namgung warriors smoothly parted, and a single girl walked calmly through the gap.
“Jeong Manor Lord, Jeong Seop. That's you, right?”
“...Yes, it is.”
Unable to use casual speech, Jeong Seop replied politely, his eyes filled with questions. It was the Namgung warriors' demeanor. Standing silently at her sides, they looked like escorts for some high noble. Yet he'd never heard of a girl of her stature in the Namgung Family.
As Jeong Seop racked his brain, the mysterious girl continued.
“The Jeong Seop who forcibly lent money to surrounding farmers at absurd interest rates during famine, then seized their land when they couldn't repay, turning them into tenant farmers. That's you, right?”
“......”
“And the same Jeong Seop who, among those tenants' wives, would forgive some interest in exchange for taking the beautiful ones. That's you, manor lord, right?”
Yeon spoke matter-of-factly, but sensing the Namgung elites' faces darkening, Jeong Seop hurriedly defended himself.
“This is outrageous! Forcibly lend money? They begged to borrow it, and now they complain—”
“If they didn't borrow, you'd send your underlings to sabotage hiring workers during harvest, block their water—how could they refuse?”
“......”
Jeong Seop's tone grew curt as Yeon laid out facts she clearly knew in full. So that's why they'd come—for something so trivial? Maybe one of those wretches had ties to Namgung.
Impossible. Lowly peasants scraping by on a few plots—how could they reach Namgung? If so, they'd have come sooner.
“...So what do you want? Everyone does it. To maintain a sect, sometimes—”
Yeon coldly cut off Jeong Seop's grumbling implication that they should share the profits.
Her sudden casual speech felt perfectly natural.
“I hate thug bastards who wield swords. Trash who call themselves warriors.”
“......”
Stunned by the insults from what looked like a ten-or-so-year-old girl, Jeong Seop glanced at the Namgung warriors. How could they not rage—or at least frown—at such degrading terms for warriors, uttered before Namgung no less?
But their calm, as if deaf, shocked him deeply. Whether the girl casually damning all rivers-and-lakes folk to the gutters or the warriors unmoved by it—none were normal.
Ignoring his thoughts, the girl continued slowly.
“So I'll make an example of you. Thugs who bully the weak just because they have a bit more money or strength.”
“......”
“You won't have any complaints if someone with a bit more money and strength crushes you.”