These Are the Martial Gods?
Jin Seongun stared at the man before him, deeply unimpressed.
Guild Leader Oh Jeongsan of the Jingzhou Merchant Guild. The eldest son of the Oh Family, he had learned the sword at Wudang in his youth, and when he came of age to inherit the family estate, he had remained there as a secular disciple. Even in his Wudang days he had been called a prodigy, and years of roaming the Jianghu and rubbing shoulders with merchants of every stripe had left him unmoved by nearly anything the world could throw at him.
And yet it was this same Oh Jeongsan who, wearing the grimmest expression imaginable as he surveyed the wreckage of the Prosperity Association, finally spoke.
"Yes, I'll make sure you get your fifty and change. But then again..."
In an instant, Oh Jeongsan's aura shifted.
Jin Seongun regarded him steadily.
Why was this man directing killing intent at *him*?
"What seems to be the problem?"
"Never mind your absurd martial prowess. Aren't your methods a touch too cruel?"
"Is there a difference between killing someone gently and killing them brutally? I struck in a single instant, so the pain they felt was surely no different."
"That isn't the point."
To Oh Jeongsan, an unequivocal orthodox sect man, the scene looked like nothing less than a blade-laden hurricane tearing through corpses — and it was truly a gruesome sight.
Jeomso-i watched him with admiration, and with greed as well.
The Merchant Guild and the Oh Family were always in need of talent.
Men who possessed both martial and commercial gifts were rare. Men whose talents in *both* fields were refined enough to satisfy Oh Jeongsan were rarer still.
But no matter how gifted a man might be, if his principles were twisted beyond the pale, he could not be accepted.
The man was, after all, a secular disciple of Wudang.
He could hardly afford to harbor a demon.
"Where did you learn your martial arts?"
"From my masters."
"Your masters, hm. Did you belong to a sect?"
"No."
Oh Jeongsan's eyes narrowed further.
"Then give me their names, or at least their titles."
Jin Seongun simply shrugged.
Since that meant *I can't tell you*, Oh Jeongsan let his sword gather menace as he spoke.
"I'll be honest with you. Your talent frightens me. If you wield this kind of power in the prime of youth, I cannot even fathom how great a martial artist you might one day become. If someone like you were ever to walk the path of the demonic..."
"Are there demonic ones among my masters, you mean?"
"..."
Jin Seongun and Oh Jeongsan locked eyes.
Oh Jeongsan prided himself on considerable forbearance, but he could not read a single thought behind that man's gaze.
Which only made the silence more ominous.
"The people who taught me martial arts are from long ago."
"Past-era masters, you mean?"
"Yes, well..."
It wasn't a lie.
When Jin Seongun nodded, something flickered through Oh Jeongsan's eyes.
Come to think of it, this man's sword didn't carry the feel of anything formally taught by a sect or family of the present age.
"You must have your reasons. I won't press you. But that doesn't mean I can simply leave this unverified."
With that, Oh Jeongsan leveled his blade at Jin Seongun. He was a seasoned Jianghu man himself — a few exchanges of sword against sword would tell him what he needed to know.
"You brought down the Prosperity Association alone, so I won't underestimate you."
"You weren't going to anyway."
"No, that would be poor manners."
"Hm."
Whether or not it was needed, Oh Jeongsan fixed Jin Seongun with a truly earnest glare — and then surged forward.
Hyeoncheonbo, the Dark Heaven Steps. Among Wudang's lightness arts, it belonged to the discreet and swift category.
Oh Jeongsan closed the distance in a blink and thrust out his sword.
Taegi Swordsmanship, the Supreme Ultimate Sword Art. It was the only sword technique permitted to secular disciples, but the profundity contained within was anything but shallow. It bore the name of the Taiji that symbolized Wudang itself — it could hardly have been otherwise.
In the space of an instant.
Jin Seongun weighed his options.
There were plenty of ways to answer that incoming blade. He could evade with the Shadowless Steps, or pour the internal energy of the Yeowol Mind Art into a light burst of palm force.
As for the Blood-Sapping Hand Art...
Yeah, that one was a bad idea.
After a moment's deliberation, Jin Seongun swung his sword.
No deep reason behind it — the Black Bone Sword just happened to be the weapon in his hand.
Hwaryong Dungeom, the Fire Dragon Escape Sword.
Of course, no crimson, raging flames erupted the way they had when he cut down the Blood Merchant Unit Leader.
The lightly swung blade met Oh Jeongsan's Taiji sword.
CLANG—!
Sword force scattered in every direction.
Feeling the resistance press against his wrist, Oh Jeongsan shifted his stance. One revolution of his footwork, and the Taiji sword was once again squared against Jin Seongun.
The whole sequence flowed like running water. The Wudang sword was steeped in softness.
"...!"
Oh Jeongsan's eyes went wide with astonishment.
Jin Seongun's movements had matched his own *exactly*.
After trading another exchange, Oh Jeongsan hastily retreated a step.
"You've learned the sword of Wudang!"
"I don't know if it's Wudang's sword or not. I simply learned whatever my masters chose to teach me."
Oh Jeongsan stared hard at him.
It was certainly... too refined to be called Wudang's swordsmanship outright. He could feel a similar current running through it, but no sword in the whole of Wudang matched it precisely.
"Hm. The one who taught you the sword — was he a man who had once walked among Wudang, or perhaps another Taoist sect?"
"Probably."
The Sword Immortal.
In any case, the man's title had *Immortal* appended to it. Besides, when he'd heard that the guild leader was a Wudang man, Sangwang had said there'd be no problem — after all, Jin Seongun had learned his sword from the Sword Immortal.
So he came from Wudang.
Jin Seongun mused on the Sword Immortal for a moment, then nodded.
Oh Jeongsan, his wariness eased by a degree, asked, "Masters of the Taoist and Buddhist sects tend to be free-spirited men who wander where they will. Might I ask what words the one who taught you your sword left with you?"
"He wasn't much of a talker, but..."
Jin Seongun paused, then continued.
The notoriously terse Sword Immortal had one saying he repeated constantly.
"Subdue the demonic with the good."
"Ohh!"
In that instant, a swell of emotion crossed Oh Jeongsan's eyes.
Was that not the very words his own master — Sect Leader Unsang, the living head of Wudang — was forever saying?
Naturally, the Sect Leader himself could not have taught this boy the sword. The boy's blade resembled Wudang's closely enough to startle, yet was unmistakably distinct.
But he had without question learned it from someone gazing upon the same summit as the Sect Leader — a fellow traveler of the Dao.
"In a sense, you might even be called a fellow student of the same school."
"I don't think it works like that."
"No, it does. The Dao of Wudang and that of Mount Hua are plainly different. Different from Zhongnan's, different from Qingcheng's as well. But it is certain that all of them advance with their eyes fixed on the same place. And so you and I, too, are companions on the Dao."
*Is that how it works?*
Jin Seongun scratched his head.
It had certainly been the right call not to unleash the Blood-Sapping Hand Art.
"Jeomso-i. No — Seongun-ah."
"...Yes."
Being called by name out of nowhere felt oddly ticklish.
But the face of Guild Leader Oh Jeongsan had never been more serious.
"Who else knows you possess this kind of power?"
"The dead martial artists of the Prosperity Association, I suppose?"
"Then keep it a secret from now on. I won't breathe a word to my subordinates either. From what I can see, you wish to go on living as Jeomso-i. Am I wrong?"
"That's true enough."
"Then it must stay hidden. If word spread that an inn waiter had this kind of power, how could your guests ever eat in comfort? And how would the world ever leave you in peace?"
Jin Seongun nodded.
He himself had no intention of flaunting his arts — not unless the Martial Gods asked, or unless it got in the way of business.
"The head of the Prosperity Association was a fool who picked a quarrel with an old demon passing through Yichang. The demon slaughtered the Prosperity Association single-handedly. But even a demon overreaches when he fights alone. Exhausted, he ran into me, and..."
Oh Jeongsan drew his own sword across his forearm.
He smeared the welling blood over his neck and face.
"We fought to a standstill, and in the end he wrung out the last of his strength and fled. Understood?"
"Understood. Then I shouldn't linger here."
Oh Jeongsan broke into a grin.
This was exactly why he loved merchants. Quick to read the room, and crystal clear on what they had to do.
"Then let's each get moving."
Jin Seongun nodded, unfurled the Shadowless Steps, and vanished. Oh Jeongsan watched him go with deep satisfaction — then a moment later gathered his internal energy and roared.
"You damned demon!! Where do you think you're fleeing to! Taeseok! The demon is running!"
At his cry, several guild martial artists, including the vice guild leader, came sprinting in alarm.
Oh Jeongsan pointed toward a single direction and addressed his newly arrived men.
"The demon butchered the Prosperity Association and fled. He's spent, but he's a strong one — pursue him at a distance! If you can't find him within half a shichen, he may have recovered and be lying in wait, so you'll return then."
"Yes, sir!"
The martial artists rushed off in the direction Oh Jeongsan had indicated. Naturally, the exact *opposite* of where Jin Seongun had disappeared.
He did feel a twinge of guilt toward his men.
But these were fellows who had come looking for a scrap with the Prosperity Association in the first place. Consider it training. Win-win.
True to his merchant blood, Oh Jeongsan rationalized it all in the space of a breath and nodded along in good spirits.
---
Seongun Inn.
As always, Jin Seongun wiped down dust that barely existed to begin with and set the tableware in perfect order.
Not a single guest had come today either. The infamy of the Yichang Prosperity Association was fairly well known, so skilled travelers saw no reason to seek the place out.
"Well, the market's shifting. Things will pick up soon enough."
In truth, ever since the Prosperity Association had vanished, the Jingzhou Merchant Guild had stepped seamlessly into its place.
For reasons of his own, Constable Hwang had also disappeared.
Jin Seongun could only assume that Guild Leader Oh Jeongsan had pulled his connections and exposed every last one of the constable's abuses, running him out of town.
The market the guild had taken over had a completely changed atmosphere.
For one, the protection tribute had become a membership fee.
Compared to the old tribute, it was a drop in the bucket.
Moreover, the guild disclosed the purpose and spending of those fees to the merchants with total transparency.
Every last coin went, quite literally, toward developing Yichang's commerce. The guild profited only modestly, taking a small cut as the price of bringing liquor and other goods into the town.
Small, if you were thinking of a single shop's trade — but multiplied across the dozens of shops in Yichang, it added up to real money.
Since that was the guild's own revenue, there was no obligation to disclose it, and a tenth of it, as agreed, found its way into Jin Seongun's pocket.
Most important of all: with a Wudang-trained guild leader standing firm in their midst, the unorthodox martial artists no longer came and went as they pleased.
"Say there, Seongun! Did you hear the news?"
Noh Sangwon came scrambling breathlessly into the inn.
Funny. Before, the man wouldn't set foot in the place for fear of ghosts.
"What news would that be?"
"The Merchant Guild is bringing in Juyeopcheong liquor! It's a drink you can't get anywhere in Yichang — hardly anyone's ever tasted it. Isn't that wonderful news?"
"Oh, is that so."
"*Is that so?* Get over to the guild right away and secure your share of the Juyeopcheong! That's a tidy profit waiting for you!"
"Thank you for telling me."
When Jin Seongun bowed his head, Noh Sangwon beamed with satisfaction.
That was how middle-aged men were. Give someone a hand, get a thank-you for it, and you felt like you'd accomplished something.
Of course, Jin Seongun had already secured his Juyeopcheong. The Merchant Guild had come to *him* first with the news.
"Still, we do need guests to start coming."
"That's just Yichang's reputation working against it. But don't you worry — thanks to the guild, things will turn around soon. Honestly, how on earth did you talk them into it?"
Noh Sangwon asked with studied casualness.
He'd never imagined the guild could truly be drawn into Yichang.
People were simply grateful to the Merchant Guild for delivering them from the Prosperity Association — but Noh Sangwon, who knew the truth of it, was grateful to Jin Seongun.
Since Jin Seongun hated making a fuss, he never said so aloud.
"I just asked, and they said yes."
"Well. You do have a way with words. Why, I fell head over heels for you the moment we met — told you all the inn's secrets, and when the Prosperity Association was threatening you, didn't I hop the fence and come rescue you myself? I was rather dashing that day, if I say so."
"Yes, well..."
Jin Seongun gave a noncommittal nod.
Oblivious, Noh Sangwon chuckled heartily at whatever pleased him so and shuffled off.
Jin Seongun gazed outside for a moment, then locked the inn's front door.
Until guests returned, he meant to put his back into training.
"That was fun."
The fight at the Prosperity Association.
It had been only a handful of days, yet to Jin Seongun it felt like something from a single shichen ago.
He was beginning to understand why martial artists threw their whole lives at the pursuit of martial power.
For a man whose entire life's pleasure had come from a spotless inn and the satisfied faces of his guests, Jin Seongun had, for the first time, found a different kind of fun.
He stepped out into the backyard and opened the door to the warehouse.
Ever since he had unbound his martial arts in earnest, the Martial Gods somehow felt different.
To leave a name across the ages was, quite literally, to be a person of greatness. Looking back on them now, he thought he could sense a certain *majesty* about the Martial Gods.
It was time to treat them with proper courtesy, and with a heart somewhat changed.
Or so he was thinking when the door swung wide, and the domain of the Martial Gods spread out before him...
"Oh."
Shintu and Sangwang were locked together by the collar.
The two strained against each other for a moment — then went tumbling head over heels across the floor.
It was a sorry sight, beneath even a brawl between third-rate black-dao thugs in some back alley.
"You thieving rat! If it wasn't you who nicked it, who else here could it have been!"
"Why is it that every time something goes missing, *I'm* the first suspect? It could've been the Sword Immortal! It could've been the Blood Demon!"
"Make sense when you speak, damn you!"
Jin Seongun blinked.
Come to think of it, merchants and thieves were bound together by a truly curious relationship.
But even so...
These are the Martial Gods?
The irreverent thought drifted through his mind — briefly, very briefly — before he shook his head hard and drove it out.
The two men spotted him a moment later and sprang up in alarm.
Ahem, ahem. They cleared their throats, straightened their rumpled clothes, and suddenly spoke in the gravest of tones.
"Yes, well, Seongun-ah. Did you achieve what you set out to do?"
"Thanks to the teachings of this Shintu, you came away without a single scratch. I could not be prouder."
Watching the two of them, Jin Seongun clicked his tongue.