The Gods in the Storage Shed
"By all means, go ahead."
Drawn by some strange force, Jin Seongun had stepped into the storage shed.
"……"
Jin Seongun, a man who was rarely flustered by anything, stood there blinking blankly. It had, without question, been a small storage shed. Yet the space within had opened into a black void with no discernible end, vast as the night sky itself.
And arrayed before him, staring him down, were four men and one woman. Each differed in bearing, in dress, in age — and every one of them wore something suspiciously like an expression of amusement.
A brief silence followed. Jin Seongun cast about for something to say, and at length opened his mouth.
"……Hmm. And what exactly are you all doing in someone else's inn?"
He had defaulted to honorifics because the beard and hair of the man standing at the front were bone-white. The sturdy old man rested a hand lightly on the scabbard at his waist and burst into laughter.
"Hahaha, someone else's inn! I have dwelt in this space for the better part of several hundred years. Can you truly still call it yours?"
"……"
Jin Seongun simply stared at him. Whatever else might be true, the old man had clearly lost his marbles.
"Sir, where do you live? I'll escort you home. Just don't carry on like this in another man's inn."
The old man's attire was, admittedly, quite formal. Even a layman like Jin Seongun could tell at a glance that the sword at his waist was no ordinary weapon. But the moment he reached out to carefully take the old man by the wrist—
Whoong—!
His hand never touched the old man's body. More precisely, it passed straight through him, as though he had grasped at smoke. Jin Seongun frowned. Was he dreaming? He slapped his own cheek a couple of times. The sting was vivid — so no, evidently not a dream.
"You asked who we are, did you?"
Somehow, the old man's voice had grown stern and dignified. Jin Seongun kept staring at him.
"……Yes. Who are you?"
"I am Yeo Am. That is my name. Some, however, call me the Sword Immortal."
A breath of disbelief escaped Jin Seongun's lips.
The world had no shortage of grand epithets, but the title of Sword Immortal was one granted to a single sect alone: the Wudang Sect. A member of the Nine Great Sects and, alongside Shaolin, one of the two paramount schools under heaven — a true gate of the Dao. And within even that Wudang, only its very greatest master could lay claim to the name of Sword Immortal.
So why on earth was a man of that caliber breaking into an inn's storeroom and pulling a stunt like this?
"If you're the Sword Immortal, old man, then I'm the Heavenly Demon."
"The Heavenly Demon? That wretch is still alive?!"
Of all things, an aged roar exploded from somewhere off to the side. Jin Seongun turned his head. A man draped in a crimson robe was glaring at him as though he wanted him dead on the spot. The murderous light in those eyes was enough to send a chill crawling up even Jin Seongun's famously steady spine.
At which point the self-proclaimed Sword Immortal waved a hand through empty air and interceded.
"Now, now. He means the ones who came after, not the Heavenly Demon who died by your hand."
Clicking his tongue as he calmed the red-robed man, the Sword Immortal turned back to Jin Seongun.
"Forgive him. Blood Demon is a man who gnashes his teeth at the very mention of the Heavenly Demon."
First a Sword Immortal, now a Blood Demon. Jin Seongun shifted his gaze to the other three.
There was a man wearing a conical bamboo hat — looked to be around thirty, and the eyes visible beneath the brim were brimming with mischief. Then a middle-aged man with a scar cutting across his face from philtrum to chin, a broad sabre slung at his waist. Judging by the look of him, would he call himself the Deer King, or perhaps the Vagrant King? And last, a woman who was watching the self-proclaimed Blood Demon with a distinctly irritated expression. She wore thin, gauzy robes that fluttered like something out of a fairy tale, and her face was so mysterious and beautiful that anywhere but this storeroom, she would have drawn the stares of every man in sight.
"Well now. The child has a discerning eye."
The woman said it with a soft, curling smile — as though she had read his every thought. And at that very moment, the hatted man spoke up.
"What does it matter, names and titles? What matters is that you and we have crossed paths as though fate itself willed it, and that we may each prove of use to the other."
"I'm hardly the sort of person who's of use to anyone."
He had been born an orphan and had scraped by his whole life as an inn waiter. That was the one and only thing Jin Seongun knew how to do.
At that, the Sword Immortal spoke as though he already knew everything.
"Jin Seongun. A truly fine name."
"……How do you know my name?"
Ah — they can read minds, so of course they can. Jin Seongun more or less accepted it, and the Sword Immortal, for his part, didn't bother to deny it as he continued.
"To us, who left our regrets behind in this world, you have come — one bearing the Heavenly Martial Body. How could this be anything but fate? We shall give you our martial arts, and you, who walk the living world, shall set right what we left undone."
Jin Seongun gave a slow nod.
"First, I am not the Heavenly Martial Body. Second, I can barely look after my own hide, so I'm in no position to help anyone else. And third — so what, exactly, are you all doing in someone else's inn?"
Jin Seongun figured he had humored them quite enough by now. Everything out of their mouths sounded either senile or like grabbing fistfuls of clouds. At the very least, that was how it sounded to a man whose entire livelihood hung on his next meal.
The Sword Immortal let out a soft chuckle.
"That ill-tempered Blood Demon, that sinister Divine Thief, the level-headed Merchant King and the noble Daji — and even I, the Sword Immortal — have all acknowledged you as the Heavenly Martial Body. Who in the world would dare deny it?"
"……"
This is madness.
That was Jin Seongun's honest assessment.
"The Heavenly Martial Body is the mark of one born under the Heavenly Martial Star — a being for whom all of heaven itself conspires to fill his body with the martial. Have you heard of the Heavenly Killing Star?"
"……Yes, more or less."
It was a rather famous star, wasn't it? Those born under the Heavenly Killing Star went mad if they didn't see blood, so they tended to become infamous demon masters.
"The Heavenly Killing Star reveals itself once in a hundred years. One born under the Heavenly Martial Star appears far more rarely still — perhaps once in a thousand years. That is why most people know of the Heavenly Killing Star but have never heard of the Heavenly Martial Star."
"……I see. Understood. But I'm a man very far removed from any of that."
Once, in his desire to learn martial arts on his own, he had actually bought a copy of the Three Calamities Sword Art off a street vendor. He had never managed to properly master a single form. There had even been a Black Dao martial artist who, rating Jin Seongun's considerable nerve, tried to teach him — only to click his tongue in dismay once he grasped the sheer hopelessness of the man's talent.
"Naturally. Whether it be a common street sword art or the most profound of supreme techniques, their essence is one and the same: they were made for humans to learn. To one with the Heavenly Martial Body, they are nothing more than ill-fitting clothes."
Sreung—!
The Sword Immortal suddenly drew the blade from his waist. The Taiji ornament dangling from the hilt swayed, stealing Jin Seongun's gaze. The gentle, benevolent air about the old man transformed the instant the sword left its sheath — in its place flowed an aura and resolve that seemed capable of cleaving Mount Tai itself.
"How could one pour a lake into a thimble? Our teachings, vast as rivers and seas, are more than fit to embrace you."
With those words, the Sword Immortal swept his blade through a single arc. Black-and-white sword qi erupted from its edge and surged forward as though to split heaven and earth in two — so powerfully that the entire vast, night-sky space itself trembled.
What would happen to a person who took that hit? Only now did the thought truly occur to Jin Seongun. Maybe — just maybe — this old man really is the Sword Immortal.
While the Sword Immortal wore a thoroughly self-satisfied expression, the woman drew near and spoke.
"Your head will burn hot when you sleep. It wakes you often, doesn't it?"
"……Yes. It does."
"And you bathe even in the dead of winter without warming the water."
"……That's right."
The corners of her mouth lifted. It was a dangerous smile — one that made even Jin Seongun, who had been too busy simply surviving to ever spare a thought for women, flinch.
"It only ever piles up. How could it not come to a boil inside and spread?"
With that, the woman pressed down gently on his shoulders. The motion was impossibly soft, and yet Jin Seongun found himself unable to resist, sinking down where he stood.
"Cross your legs into the lotus position."
Her voice carried a force that could not be defied — and yet what he felt was less discomfort than a strange warmth, like being swaddled.
"Close your eyes and observe what lies within your body."
And how exactly do I do that?
Whether he managed it or not, her words flowed on.
"Begin at the Baihui point. Gather the qi that flows through heaven and earth to that place, and……"
From there, one incomprehensible term after another came pouring out — jargon he had genuinely never heard once in his life. All he could intuit was that these were the things martial artists learned. And yet one thing struck him as deeply strange: though he understood not a word of it, his body was following her instructions all the same.
When the explanation finally ended, the woman gently lifted her hands from his shoulders.
"What I have just taught you is the Yeowol Mind Art. It was, in truth, a mind art made for women…… but you're prettier than most women anyway, so I suppose it will do?"
Jin Seongun flinched, eyes still closed. What is wrong with this lunatic of a woman?
But the woman only laughed, as though thoroughly entertained.
"Hoho, merely a jest. I simply judged that one born with the Heavenly Martial Body could surely digest it."
She was right. Jin Seongun could feel the qi of heaven and earth converging on him — and, if he indulged in a little exaggeration, something like the sensation of standing at the very center of the world.
The Sword Immortal's voice followed.
"Among us, Daji's mind art is beyond question the finest, so do not learn it carelessly. You must devote your every nerve to it."
But how on earth did I end up taking martial arts lessons?
As though swept away by a raging current, he had come to his senses and found himself in this exact situation. What if, as payment, they ask me to do something grueling — or downright immoral?
The moment that worry took shape—
"Sword Immortal. Do you truly believe that one whose very title bears the word immortal would demand such things of you?"
Except the other one is the Blood Demon. And among them, no less, stood Shin Tu — a literal thief.
At that, the thief himself threw back his head and laughed.
"Hahaha! Fear not — I won't be asking you to steal anything. And the mind art is merely a gift to commemorate our fated meeting. The transaction proper can be discussed later."
Oh. In that case, there was nothing to worry about after all.
Jin Seongun turned his focus back to the mind art. And while he did, the Martial Gods' conversation carried on around him.
"Sword Immortal elder. It shames me to say it, but our dear girl's mind art runs rather deep. It will take considerable time."
"I'm well aware. Time holds little meaning for the likes of us — what is there to fret over?"
"A dull talent would need a full year merely to form a dantian through this mind art. An ordinary talent would take some four months, and a brilliant one would finish before even a month had passed."
That would be no ordinary dantian, of course. The inner power cultivated through the Yeowol Mind Art was bound to soar far beyond anything common martial common sense could account for.
Jin Seongun, who was pretending not to eavesdrop on the conversation, felt his brow twitch. That long would be a genuine problem. He had already put out word that he was hiring a cook. What if a truly skilled one came by, found the position closed, and moved on?
The instant that thought crossed his mind—
"Oh my."
Jin Seongun opened his eyes. The Martial Gods all stared back at him, utterly bewildered.
"What — already?"
Jin Seongun scratched the bridge of his nose with his index finger.
That dantian business. I think it's… done?
Barely the time it takes to finish a meal had elapsed. The expressions of the Martial Gods turned grave. One after another, they drew close and laid their hands upon different parts of his body — and five currents of qi, each a different color, surged into him. Then, without exception, they each let out a groan.
"Hooh… how in the world……"
"Even granting the Heavenly Martial Body, this is……"
It was beyond comprehension. Past brilliance, past genius, into the Heavenly Martial Body itself — they had assumed it would take perhaps a fortnight, at best seven days. And that was because, the Sword Immortal aside, none of them had ever actually laid eyes on a Heavenly Martial Body before.
Then, for the first time, the man who had not breathed a single word the entire while opened his mouth: Sangwang. With that broad sabre on his back, Jin Seongun had taken him for a ronin or a bandit — but Merchant King? Of all titles, an unexpected one.
"Sword Immortal. I am opposed to teaching this child martial arts. A being every bit as dangerous as the Blood Demon could come to hang over the world once more."
"What about me?"
At that, the eyes of every Martial God — and Jin Seongun's — swung toward the Blood Demon in perfect unison. Unnerved by the sudden convergence of stares, the Blood Demon let out an uncomfortable cough.
Into the awkward silence that followed, Jin Seongun spoke up.
"There's no need for everyone to worry quite so much. I haven't actually made up my mind about any of this yet."
Every gaze swung back to him. Shin Tu, the hatted man, spoke as though he couldn't believe his ears.
"You haven't decided? You've mastered Daji's mind art and you feel nothing?"
"Hmm. It feels light?"
Jin Seongun reported what he felt with disarming honesty. And in truth, his body did feel lighter. Considerably so. As though he had spent his entire life toting a massive boulder and had only just set it down.
"You'd want to learn more, surely? Have you forgotten the sword qi the Sword Immortal showed you earlier?"
"No, that was genuinely impressive. Of course I'd like to learn. But two things give me pause."
"……Which are?"
Shin Tu asked, brow furrowed. For any ordinary martial artist, the mere chance to become the disciple of even one of these five would be worth staking their life on. And yet, with all five offering to teach, this brat was stonewalling them?
"First, I have no idea what you'd demand of me, or how much, in exchange for the martial arts. The only reason I want to learn is to live well. Naturally, if it means staking my life on your requests, the whole thing defeats its own purpose."
"Hah. Honestly."
Shin Tu let out a hollow laugh — the particular kind a man makes when he's annoyed and can't find a single thing to say in rebuttal.
At which point the Sword Immortal beside him spoke.
"We shall ask nothing impossible of you. Nor will you need to humor our requests without end. Only once. Grant each of us a single request, one apiece, and that will be enough."
Jin Seongun gave a small nod. That was, all things considered, a fairly decent set of terms.
Which left the second problem. Jin Seongun stated it flatly.
"I bought an inn yesterday. A tremendous feat, achieved through a lifetime of work as a waiter."
"……And?"
"From what I understand, learning martial arts means devoting every waking hour to training. And honestly? I rather like being an inn waiter. What's more, I'm now an innkeeper, and with that comes responsibility."
"You've lost your mind."
This time Shin Tu had his grounds for rebuttal, and he laid into him without mercy — how a mere inn could make the man hesitate over their teachings, and the like. Then Jin Seongun felt the back of his neck grow hot. The Sword Immortal and Sangwang were glaring daggers at him.
"Have you no shame, Shin Tu? No labor under heaven is high or low — how dare you belittle a man's entire life with a dismissive 'mere inn'? And you, of all people……"
The rest went unsaid, but everyone understood. A thief, sneering at an inn waiter? The Sword Immortal's rebuke struck like a dagger and left Shin Tu flinching, while Sangwang's eyes grew all the more wary.
"Ah — Sangwang. You were a waiter yourself, weren't you. Poor choice of words. My apologies."
Something unfamiliar flickered through Jin Seongun's eyes. Sangwang looked different to him now.
And then, quite suddenly, a single question crossed his mind.
"Sangwang, elder."
"What is it?"
"Do you happen to know Mangeum Manor?"
Mangeum Manor. The largest merchant guild and the greatest merchant family under heaven. The legend of the man who founded it remained vivid even now, centuries after his passing — and his deeds had, in fact, left a deep mark on Jin Seongun's own life.
Born an inn waiter, he had opened an inn of his own. Then he had raised that inn into a trading house, and that trading house into a merchant guild — the wealthiest and grandest under heaven. And they said the man's own martial arts had been every bit as tremendous.
Jin Seongun stared steadily at the sabre at Sangwang's waist. Before long, the scar cutting across the man's mouth twitched, pulling itself into a wry chuckle.
"Yes. I am the true master of Mangeum Manor."
"Proceed, then."
"Hm?"
"The deal — or the fate, whichever it is. Let's do it."
Ever since opening the inn, Jin Seongun had carried more than a few private worries. Having lived as a waiter, he knew the trade better than most — but actually running an inn himself was another matter entirely. And then, out of nowhere, the man reputed to be the very best in that field had simply appeared: the very Sangwang who had voiced mild opposition to teaching him martial arts, calling it dangerous.
And yet, as the mood shifted in some strange, unaccountable direction, a smile had at last settled onto Sangwang's lips.
The other four Martial Gods, for their part, were quietly nursing a peculiar sense of defeat.