The White Cloud Sword
The White Cloud Sword.
Oh Jeongsan, leader of the merchant guild, was hurrying along at a brisk pace.
The Southern Black League's movements had been anything but ordinary. He had been deep in a meeting with his subordinates when Seongun Inn suddenly came to mind.
Jin Seongun was a remarkable man in his own right, and the Cook Seo who had appeared out of nowhere was hardly an ordinary person either. Though he had no way of knowing either man's past, one thing was certain: compared to himself, neither of their martial attainments was the least bit lacking.
"The problem is that the ones we're dealing with are the Southern Black League."
He would have to watch his step for a while.
The trouble was that both of those men seemed utterly oblivious to such concerns, and that worried him.
"If only they'd be careful for just a little while."
Before setting out, he had sent a letter to the Wudang Sect. If the Black Sabre Unit had been dispatched, it meant the Southern Black League had no intention of letting this matter slide either.
Well, after all—they had killed his son.
Ever since his meeting with the Black Sabre Unit Leader, Oh Jeongsan's heart had grown only more anxious. He had crossed paths with the man ten years ago, and compared to then, he had grown terrifyingly strong.
In truth, it wasn't just him. Nearly every martial artist Oh Jeongsan knew had done the same.
The real problem was that he alone remained standing in place.
"...How pathetic."
People commonly said that the highest realm one could reach through effort alone, without talent, was First-Rate. He had surpassed that First-Rate and arrived at the very threshold of the Peak Realm.
Until then, he had believed in his own talent.
But that was where it ended. Since then, there had been no enlightenment, no growth whatsoever. All he could do was watch the friends who had once walked beside him pull further and further ahead into the distance.
At any rate, he was now the man in charge of Yichang, and the knowledge that Black Dao martial artists stronger than himself had entered this town gnawed at him with discomfort and unease.
Oh Jeongsan's steps quickened.
All at once, Seongun Inn came into view in the distance. Its lights blazed brightly.
"They should have closed up shop by now..."
As he drew closer, a thick scent of blood drifted toward him on the wind. A deep anxiety settled into Oh Jeongsan's chest.
It must be pig's blood.
No—fish blood, maybe? He walked on, forcing his heart to calm with such thoughts. But the closer he came to the inn, the more his unease hardened into certainty. It was unmistakably the smell of human blood.
The inn was silent. The fight seemed already to be over.
Oh Jeongsan's face grew a little pale. If Jin Seongun or Cook Seo was dead, how was he ever to answer for it?
...It would all be my failure.
Oh Jeongsan opened the door with a tense expression.
His eyes met Jin Seongun's—and Seo Yugyeom's. Around the two men, blood and corpses lay strewn everywhere.
Thud!
Oh Jeongsan shut the door again.
"Am I dreaming?"
He slapped his own cheek.
Smack.
The sting snapped his mind wide awake. Not a dream. The surreal scene inside was all real, too.
The Black Sabre Unit Leader was dead. His subordinates were all dead as well. Jeomsoi and the cook were sighing heavily as they wiped up blood with cloths.
Oh Jeongsan steeled his eyes and opened the door once more. The scene was unchanged, save that a little more of the blood had been wiped away in the meantime.
Oh Jeongsan worked his mouth for a long moment before finally speaking.
"...What in the world is this?"
The question carried a great many others within it. Why were these men dead? How had a fight broken out? How strong were you two, and what in heaven's name were you?
The answer came straight back.
Seo Yugyeom flung a corpse out into the backyard and said, "They tried to run a tab. Absolutely out of their minds."
Jin Seongun nodded silently in agreement.
Oh Jeongsan scrubbed a hand down his dry face. Right. Of course—a tab was out of the question. Black Dao types, especially, never had any intention of properly paying what they owed.
Oh Jeongsan knew this well, being both a martial artist and a merchant himself.
"Being Black Dao men, they must have eaten and drunk a great deal. It must have come to quite a sum."
"Yes, sir. They ate more in one watch than everything we sold all day."
Jin Seongun answered flatly. Oh Jeongsan nodded with an effort.
"Losing that would indeed be a heavy blow. Did you try telling them tab wasn't an option?"
"We did."
Of course. To the Black Sabre Unit Leader, they would have been nothing more than a powerless cook and a serving girl. If anything, being refused a tab would only have enraged him further and set him snarling.
Oh Jeongsan tried as hard as he could to make sense of the situation. At the end of that effort, he let out a faint sigh and said, "Well. You're screwed."
Oh Jeongsan put himself in the Southern Black Lotus Lord's shoes for a moment. To the Southern Black League, seated at the far western edge of Hubei, Yichang was a vital region. To the north lay the Wudang Sect and the Zhuge Clan; to the east, the Murim Alliance Headquarters.
In other words, Yichang was very nearly the last border separating the Southern Black League from the Orthodox world. And there in Yichang, his son had died. Then a merchant guild with Wudang roots had taken root in the town. He had sent a favored subordinate to investigate—and that man, too, had been killed the very day he arrived.
The Southern Black Lotus Lord would be thinking something like this:
"These sons of bitches are trying to cross the line."
"Hey—where did that cursing come from all of a sudden...?"
When Seo Yugyeom glared at him, Oh Jeongsan hurriedly waved his hands.
"No, no, I only meant that the Southern Black Lotus Lord must be under tremendous pressure right now. Perhaps..."
The Southern Black Lotus Lord might well conclude that the Orthodox world had him in its sights. And what a man who felt that way might do, even Oh Jeongsan could not begin to predict.
"...What will you do now?"
Oh Jeongsan asked Jin Seongun. Leave Yichang? Or actively seek help from the Murim Alliance or Wudang? Perhaps even borrow the power of the imperial authorities.
He asked with all of those meanings folded in—and out of nowhere came this reply:
"First we'll finish cleaning, then repair the broken tables and chairs as soon as the sun comes up, and after that..."
Oh Jeongsan blinked. Is that really the problem right now?
Then Seo Yugyeom, standing beside him, flared up as well. "Hey, that's not how it works."
Oh Jeongsan looked at Seo Yugyeom in surprise. He had suspected the man wasn't entirely sane either.
Seo Yugyeom continued without pause. "How are we supposed to repair all this? Just buy new ones. You're loaded anyway."
"..."
Oh Jeongsan pressed a hand to his forehead. Apparently these young men had livers of a tiger.
"Look here, you two. I don't think you quite grasp how serious this situation is..."
At his grave expression, Seo Yugyeom stepped over and pressed a rag into his hand. Oh Jeongsan accepted it in a daze.
"Talk while you wipe. We're short on time."
Oh Jeongsan's brow furrowed. Is now really the time for me to be cleaning? He wanted to say it—but Seo Yugyeom wasn't wrong. The sun would rise soon, and if the townsfolk saw this mess, things would spiral beyond all control.
Oh Jeongsan began to clean.
Jin Seongun glanced at the sight and gave a small, satisfied nod. With three of them working, the cleaning went all the faster.
"Do you know what kind of place the Southern Black League is?"
Oh Jeongsan asked as he wiped down a chair. Jin Seongun answered, naturally, that he had no idea, and Seo Yugyeom replied while clearing away the wreckage of a broken table.
"The tyrants of Hubei's Black Dao, aren't they?"
"That's right. The Southern Black Lotus Lord is famous for a cruelty that knows no restraint. It's because he built a great Black Dao power with no backing to speak of—he never stops warning everyone just how terrifying a man he is. This chair's beyond saving, I'm afraid."
"Seems like it could be fixed with a bit of work, though."
When Jin Seongun said this, Oh Jeongsan shook his head. A skilled carpenter might patch it up decently enough, but even so, buying new would be better.
"..."
Jin Seongun and Oh Jeongsan's eyes met for a moment. Oh Jeongsan found the whole situation utterly absurd.
A martial artist on the level of the Black Sabre Unit Leader was dead. There was no telling when the Southern Black Lotus Lord might come charging into this town. If he arrived before Wudang's help did, they would all die where they stood.
And here they were, cleaning.
Strangest of all, though, was the fact that his own heart had somehow grown calm.
"Why is that?"
"Why is what, sir?"
Looking at Jin Seongun, who asked the question back, Oh Jeongsan understood. Ah—this was why. That characteristic flat voice and expression, that unruffled manner—they had a way of putting even the people standing nearby at ease.
"Seongun, my boy. Aren't you afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"You've only just opened for business. You could move to another town whenever you liked. Your instincts for the trade are far from poor, and Cook Seo's skills are excellent—you could set down roots anywhere."
Oh Jeongsan meant every word of it.
He himself had no way out of this situation. The Southern Black League had eyes and ears everywhere; they would already know he had come to Yichang. So he would stay here and shoulder the responsibility. That was the Orthodox way Oh Jeongsan had learned at Wudang.
But Jin Seongun and Seo Yugyeom were under no such obligation. No one could blame the two of them for running. True, it had been Jin Seongun who wiped out the Prosperity Association—but that happened only because the Prosperity Association Leader's depredations had crossed every line. The fault was not Jin Seongun's.
"I was going to say it might be better to leave."
"I'm going to do business here."
Jin Seongun said it firmly. Whether or not the Southern Black League frightened him, and because the Martial Gods were here, too.
Oh Jeongsan studied Jin Seongun's eyes for a moment. The voice, the expression, the bearing—and those utterly unwavering eyes on top of it all. They put a man's heart at ease, just as he'd thought.
Oh Jeongsan let out a sigh. If that young man could be so calm, then carrying on in a flap would solve nothing.
"I understand how you feel. Wudang will be sending people before long. We'll have to watch the Southern Black League's moves, but if it comes to it, we can call on the Murim Alliance or the Zhuge Clan as well."
"I see."
"Yes, so don't worry yourself too much. Yichang is merchant guild territory now, after all. I'll take responsibility and see this through somehow."
Oh Jeongsan thought he had cut quite the figure of a dependable elder just then. True, his martial growth had stalled ten years ago—but this, at least, was spiritual growth.
At that very moment, Seo Yugyeom's needle-sharp remark came flying in. "Don't sneak in breaks while you're leaning on that mop, now."
"..."
And so the three of them worked in silence for a while. Thanks to that, they finished cleaning before sunrise—which was, all things considered, a good thing.
It was decided the inn would stay closed for a few days. New chairs and tables had to be procured, and the smell of blood soaked into the building had not yet fully faded.
The inn was quiet with no customers to serve. Jin Seongun, Seo Yugyeom, Oh Jeongsan, and one old man sat around a single table.
The old man stroked his neatly trimmed beard as he studied the faces of Jin Seongun and Seo Yugyeom. In the somewhat awkward atmosphere, Seo Yugyeom reached for the food, and Jin Seongun gently checked him with a nudge of his elbow to the ribs.
"...Can't even eat in peace."
As Seo Yugyeom set down his chopsticks and grumbled, the old man spoke with a peculiar expression.
"So these young ones are the ones who killed the Southern Black Lotus Lord's second son and the Black Sabre Unit Leader. And Jeongsan—you've been handling the aftermath."
"Ahem—not the aftermath, Master. It was a matter we carried out together, in full communication."
Whether he heard it or not, the old man was regarding Jin Seongun and Seo Yugyeom with a dubious face.
"A curious thing indeed. For men said to have trained in Daoist-lineage arts, I sense none of that characteristic air—not the slightest trace."
Hyun Woon, Oh Jeongsan's master and an elder of the Wudang Sect. He had heard the full account of everything that had happened—though before that, Oh Jeongsan had first secured Jin Seongun and Seo Yugyeom's consent.
"And yet the sword Seongun wields was unmistakably of the Daoist lineage."
"But you cannot say which sect you belong to?"
"...No, Elder."
"The cook is steeped in killing intent, the girl betrays nothing at all—truly a strange inn, this."
Hyun Woon stroked his beard, his face growing stiffer. His disciple had vouched this far; to doubt further would be nothing short of smearing his disciple's name.
Hyun Woon's gaze shifted to Seo Yugyeom. Where Jin Seongun's eyes held at least a baseline of respect, Seo Yugyeom's were provocatively, endlessly so.
Hyun Woon pointed his index finger at Seo Yugyeom's insolent face.
"You don't mean to tell me this one is a Daoist as well?"
Even as he said it, he observed the man. The moment Hyun Woon extended his finger, the muscles of Seo Yugyeom's neck had hardened almost imperceptibly—preparing, perhaps, in case a finger-sword strike came flying.
A young one, yet seasoned to a remarkable degree.
At Hyun Woon's question, Oh Jeongsan scratched his head. In truth, he didn't know where Seo Yugyeom had come from or what he had done, either.
Hyun Woon pressed on.
"Look as I might, he is either an assassin or a vagrant of the Unorthodox path."
"He's a cook."
Seo Yugyeom answered flatly. The corner of Hyun Woon's mouth lifted slightly.
"Thin out the killing karma packed into those eyes of yours first, then we'll talk."
"That's karma a cook has to shoulder. It's a trade where you split animal bones and flesh all day and chop off fish heads."
Hyun Woon clicked his tongue. No amount of looking made this the eyes of a man who had gained them by killing a few fish. They were closer to the gaze of a butcher who had slaughtered thousands of animals—or of a demonic practitioner who had killed too many men to count.
Hyun Woon rose from his seat.
"You begged me so earnestly that I came all this way, but this is not a matter I can decide easily. First, the Southern Black League is no easy foe. Beyond that, I cannot even be certain of these young ones' identities."
"Master..."
"However—with me here, that Southern Black Lotus Lord whelp will not dare run wild as he pleases."
Saying this, Hyun Woon glared at the stir-fried bok choy on the table for a moment, then picked some up and ate it. His eyebrows twitched instantly.
Seo Yugyeom did not miss it. He puffed out his chest and put on a look of pure triumph.
"It's good. I suppose I can't very well mooch off a disciple I've just reunited with. But I came in such a hurry that I neglected to bring traveling money, so for now, let's call it a tab—"
"N-no, Elder! It is only right that this disciple host you!"
Oh Jeongsan cried out in alarm. In this inn's backyard were men buried who had died trying to open just such a tab.
Hyun Woon looked at his strange disciple as though he were an oddity, then soon vanished.
Oh Jeongsan breathed a sigh of relief and said, "However he talks, he's not a man who would let Black Dao scum run wild. So don't worry. I'll speak well of you to him."
With that, Oh Jeongsan hurriedly settled the bill and followed his master out.
Watching the two receding figures, Seo Yugyeom snorted a laugh.
"Man, meeting the White Cloud Sword himself."
"You know of him?"
"Of course I do. That man's one of the top ten masters in the whole Wudang Sect. If you wanted to assassinate him, you'd need at least ten Salsu of the highest grade."
"Oh..."
Seo Yugyeom rated people by his own bizarre standards, and Jin Seongun had somehow grown used to it.
After seeing Hyun Woon and Oh Jeongsan off, Seo Yugyeom climbed onto a great tree, declaring he was due a nap, and Jin Seongun went straight to the Martial Gods.
As always, Sangwang and Shintu were locked in a collar-grabbing scuffle, while Sword Immortal and Daji played baduk. One thing was different: Blood Demon was nowhere to be seen.
"Where has Blood Demon gone?"
"He will return shortly."
Sword Immortal answered. Jin Seongun wasn't especially curious either, so he merely nodded and moved on.
Jin Seongun recounted the events of the past few days—the appearance and death of the Black Sabre Unit Leader, and even the suspicions of Hyun Woon, Oh Jeongsan's master.
Sangwang flew into a great rage at the part about the Black Sabre Unit Leader trying to run a tab.
"Honestly, it's the guild leader I'm worried about. He seems to have asked his master for help on my account, and with the old man suspicious of me and Cook Seo, he's caught awkwardly in the middle."
Daji laid a soft hand on Jin Seongun's shoulder with a gentle smile.
"Seongun, a Daoist of Wudang will come to see before long that you are no wicked man. You needn't worry."
Daji's eyes as she looked at him were endlessly benevolent—but the advice was of little help.
Then Shintu chimed in. "Always with the dreary talk. The best way to win a man's favor is to do him a kindness. How about this: first you steal something precious of his, then pretend you found it and return it?"
Sangwang clicked his tongue and cut in. "And how would that work? Ignore the words of this stupid, immoral, ugly, lowly thief."
"..."
Shintu sulked. Whether or not, Sangwang continued.
"Seongun. Sponsor the Wudang Sect. You've racked up quite a hoard from all your business, haven't you? The time to make money with money is drawing near."
Just as Jin Seongun was starting to find this persuasive, Blood Demon—returned from somewhere—shook the blood from his hand and murmured, almost to himself.
"Simple answer. Kill them all. The Southern Black League, Wudang, the Murim Alliance, the Demonic Cult, the Emperor—all of them."
Everyone turned to look at Blood Demon.
A brief silence. Then, as if by prior agreement, they all resumed the conversation with Blood Demon excluded—as though not one of them had heard a word.
At that moment—
"Haha. How strange that not one soul here offers advice of any actual use to Seongun."
Everyone turned unpleasant eyes on Sword Immortal. Sword Immortal, springing up from his seat, savored those glares for a moment before speaking with grave dignity.
"You spoke of an elder of the Wudang Sect."
"Yes, a man called the White Cloud Sword. Do you happen to know him?"
"Speak sense, boy."
It had been a joke.
Jin Seongun sank into a bit of a sulk. Whether or not, Sword Immortal continued.
"In any case. If you follow the counsel I am about to give, that man will not merely withdraw his suspicion of you—he will extend you favor truly without limit. Are you ready to listen?"
"...I will listen carefully."
With eyes half hope and half doubt, Jin Seongun waited for Sword Immortal's next words.