Black Spider
Black Spider.
Seomun Ak wanted desperately to deny it, but the movements of the heterodox crowd were plain as day to him.
Perhaps it was because he frequented taverns and wine houses in his old days, rubbing shoulders with the darker side of the martial world. Or maybe Seomun Ak's temperament itself had always been better suited to the shadows than to the light.
Jin Seongun looked at the wine house Seomun Ak had pointed out. Even at a glance, it was clearly the largest, flashiest, and most expensive establishment in all of Dangyang.
"Why do you think it's that one?"
"Think about it. What would ordinary martial artists be doing at this hour?"
Jin Seongun glanced up at the sky.
The sun blazed high overhead. Midday.
"Training, I'd imagine."
Baek Sang and Baek Seol, after all, slipped out to the back courtyard to train whenever the inn had few customers.
By nature, a martial artist spent every hour outside of eating, sleeping, and fighting on cultivation.
At his answer, Seomun Ak smiled a knowing grin, as if the man were hopeless.
"Wrong. That's for ordinary martial artists. The heterodox crowd is different. Any of them who actually trained in earnest would already have joined a decent-sized dark sect and be throwing their weight around somewhere. The ones who kidnap children and sell them off don't train. And since they've learned a bit of martial arts, their vanity runs deep — they would never, ever drink at a cheap wine house."
"Oho."
Jin Seongun even raised a thumb, genuinely impressed. Truly, Seomun Ak was a man better suited to the dark path than the orthodox one.
Seomun Ak's mood turned oddly complicated at the compliment, and he hurried his steps as he spoke.
"Let me say this again. I am a martial artist of the orthodox path."
"Of course. A pity, though."
"What? What's that supposed to—"
But Jin Seongun was already gone.
Turning his head, he spotted him far in the distance, cutting a line across the open sky. That insane lightness skill brought the image of Jin Seongun fighting Sikmugaek back to mind.
"...If he says jump, I suppose I jump."
He realized, anew, that neither in martial arts, nor in justification, nor in authority could anyone stand against Jin Seongun.
Seomun Ak let out a long sigh, then quickly kicked off into lightness skill himself, chasing the direction Jin Seongun had vanished.
Jin Seongun and Seomun Ak stood before the wine house.
Its name was the Dangyangru. Hanging the name of the region itself over the door meant one thing: this was the establishment that represented Dangyang.
It also meant the strongest dark sect in the area was backing it. Otherwise, the signboard would have long since been smashed and its owner dragged off into some back alley.
"It's enormous."
He had to crane his neck to look at the top of the building, the back of it pulling a little at the strain. At the sight, Seomun Ak burst into a snort of laughter.
Who would ever guess? This country bumpkin of a man was the master who had unleashed a staggering sword art against Sikmugaek.
Seomun Ak, having spent years upon years in wine houses and taverns, felt no awe whatsoever at the likes of Dangyangru.
"What if we built Seongun Inn up like this? We get plenty of customers, so it should be fine."
"Hmm."
At the suggestion, Jin Seongun stared at Dangyangru for a long moment. Before long, a vision formed in his mind — Seongun Inn rebuilt as a massive four-story hall.
Jin Seongun's breathing grew slightly ragged.
Hoo. Hot air puffed out through his nose.
"Good. I'll just have to save up a bit more money."
"No, no. If it were me, here's what I'd do. First, visit the Seok Clan estate. Demand exactly what you think your son's life was worth — make them pay it."
"..."
"Collect from the Seok Clan first, then head over to my family, the Seomun Clan. Make them pay for their worthless son's life too. My father abandoned me, but he's a proud man — he'll put up a fair sum. He'd give at least a good deal more than the Seok Clan. Now, where do we go next?"
"The Sichuan Tang Clan?"
"Nope. We go to the Wulin Alliance. Demand they pay out the bounty on Sikmugaek's head. Hilarious, aren't they? They post the bounty, and we're the ones who have to walk up to their door to collect it. And then, finally, we head for the Sichuan Tang Clan."
Seomun Ak kept going, chuckling to himself as if the mere imagining of it delighted him.
"'So this is what the Seok Clan and the Seomun Clan paid. Honestly, I'm disappointed. To think the sons of clans called great orthodox families were worth only this much.'"
Seomun Ak briefly pictured the Poison King's face.
That signature sneer would spread across it. The Tang Clan didn't recognize the Seok Clan or the Seomun Clan as great families in the first place.
"'I saved your clan's one and only precious jewel. What will you offer me in return?' — What do you think the Tang Clan would say to that?"
"I imagine they'd pay a large sum."
"Wrong. They'd hand over Tang Soyeon. You'd become the Tang Clan's son-in-law. After that, some measly four-story inn would hardly be a problem, would it?"
"?"
Jin Seongun stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. There was a dangerous glint in Seomun Ak's eyes.
Jin Seongun smacked the back of his head.
"Ow!"
Seomun Ak rubbed his head and turned to him. Jin Seongun answered flatly.
"It looked like you were slipping into Qi Deviation."
Seomun Ak clicked his tongue.
Tch. Can't even joke around with this guy.
Then, suddenly, his mind snapped sharp. He'd been so glum and listless lately — but somewhere along the way, hanging around this man, the weight on his heart had loosened without him noticing.
"...Let's go."
And so the two of them stepped into the wine house.
A waiter came out to greet them. Neither Jin Seongun nor Seomun Ak looked remotely ordinary, so the waiter led them to one of the better seats in the house.
Seomun Ak ordered wine and food with practiced ease.
Meanwhile, Jin Seongun spread out his qi sense.
How on earth does one wine house hold this many martial artists? Just as Seomun Ak had said, every last one of them was from the heterodox side.
Their realms were mostly Third-Rate or Second-Rate, with a handful of First-Rate masters mixed in.
I can see why you said Dangyang is crawling with heterodox martial artists. You'd hardly see a single one back in Uichang.
At Jin Seongun's voice transmission, Seomun Ak nodded.
Seomun Ak was clumsy with voice transmission, so he simply lowered his voice to a whisper as he replied.
"The Prosperity Association got wiped out, they say. The Wudang Sect's lay disciples moved in to fill the gap — what fool with a death wish would muscle in on that?"
"I see."
When the wine and food arrived, Jin Seongun was startled. It was far too much for two people.
Worse, unlike the dishes served at Seongun Inn, everything was piled high with elaborate garnish. One look told him the bill would be steep.
Seomun Ak regarded the food calmly, then pressed a silver ingot into the waiter's hand. He didn't forget to announce it loudly, as if making sure the whole room heard.
"Here, take it."
"Thank you, Great Hero!"
The waiter's face bloomed into a wide smile.
Seomun Ak didn't stop there. He drew out his money pouch and dropped it right onto the table.
"I'll have to stop by a bank soon and get this changed into drafts. It's getting far too heavy to carry."
The eyes of the heterodox crowd converged on them.
Feeling those gazes, Seomun Ak spoke.
"If only we had a porter."
No more words were needed. As they sat eating for a short while longer, the heterodox men began whispering among themselves, and one of them shot to his feet and came over.
Seomun Ak deliberately flinched in fright and looked up at the man. Several blade scars crisscrossed his face, making his expression rather menacing.
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but did I hear you need a porter?"
"We do, but..."
Seomun Ak let his voice tremble on purpose.
The man grinned in what seemed to be an attempt to prove he was no threat.
"I was a waiter myself back in the day, see. If you'd like, I could carry your load for you. Where's the road taking you?"
"Ah, no, that's quite all right. We don't hire our elders as porters. It'd cost us more in meals as well..."
"Heh, what kind of worry is that? I'll buy my own food. Just tell me the destination."
The man's tone shifted, turning a shade more forceful.
So Seomun Ak, as if left with no choice, dropped his voice so only the man could hear.
"Xinjiang."
"Wh-what!"
The man flinched hard and stumbled back a step.
Xinjiang — the very land where the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult held sway.
Seomun Ak raised a finger to his lips.
"We're on our way to settle some business with the merchants there. And this stuck-up bodyguard of ours absolutely refuses to carry a thing."
With that, Seomun Ak pointed at Jin Seongun across the table. The man's gaze followed, landing on Jin Seongun.
Jin Seongun considered what to do, then simply rested a hand lightly on the hilt of his black greatsword and said:
"What are you looking at?"
The man jerked back violently.
Xinjiang is the Demonic Cult's domain. A bodyguard hired for a journey there would have to be a true master.
The man hastily averted his eyes. Xinjiang was far too distant to follow them anyway. And with a guard like that standing watch, there'd be no sneaking off with their coin along the way, either.
The man churned his thoughts for a moment, then spoke.
"I know a place where you can find porters."
He was clearly angling to scrape together whatever pocket change he could.
Jin Seongun and Seomun Ak exchanged a glance.
Then Seomun Ak said to the man:
"Oho, and where might that be?"
"Follow me. It's a discreet place."
"Let's at least finish our meal first."
At Seomun Ak's words, the man nodded and returned to his seat.
After the meal, the two of them walked along in the man's wake.
Seomun Ak suddenly asked the man walking ahead of them:
"What's your name, anyway?"
"Black Sword."
"Black Spider?"
"Black. Sword."
The man scowled and repeated himself with emphasis.
Seomun Ak fought down a laugh. Black Sword, of all things. It had to be one of those self-styled nicknames men like him took to puff themselves up.
They walked for quite a while before Black Sword stopped in front of a building sitting at the mouth of an alley.
"Here it is. Go in and say you've come looking for porters. Tell them I sent you, slip them a few coins, and they'll let you in. Ah — and no need to mention the Xinjiang part."
Black Sword gestured for the two of them to enter. Seomun Ak looked him dead in the eye for a long moment, then said:
"Come in with us. You expect two strangers to walk into an unfamiliar place like this alone? We'd be terrified."
"You carry a bodyguard like that around and you're scared of what, exactly?"
"We're going together."
Seomun Ak pressed once more. Then Jin Seongun, standing beside him, fixed Black Sword with a steady stare.
The moment their eyes met, the man shuddered.
"...Fine, fine, let's go. Unbelievable."
Black Sword pushed open the door and stepped inside, the two of them following behind.
Down a long corridor there was another door, and before it stood a rough-looking gatekeeper.
But Black Sword apparently had ties to the place, because they were let through without any procedure at all.
Two doors past, and still the corridor stretched on. The layout alone told them these people were up to things they couldn't afford to have seen.
At the end of the long corridor, yet another door appeared.
This time there was no gatekeeper — instead, one wall was lined, curiously enough, with masks of all different shapes.
"For guests who'd rather not reveal their identities. Well, if you're headed to Xinjiang, I suppose you won't really need one."
"Still, it looks fun. I'll try one anyway."
Seomun Ak picked up a plain white mask.
Jin Seongun browsed the masks for a moment, then reached for a golden one.
The two of them put on their masks and stepped inside.
The interior proved far larger than its exterior had let on.
Seated in chairs spaced sparsely across the floor, masked figures all faced a raised platform at the front of the hall.
"Take any seat you like."
Black Sword said, and Jin Seongun and Seomun Ak settled into a corner with a clear view of the whole room.
Items were carried up onto the platform one after another. Antiques, blades, paintings, elixir pellets and the like.
Seomun Ak said to Jin Seongun:
"A black market."
A black market — a place run chiefly by the heterodox crowd, where goods that could not be sold openly changed hands.
Most of it was stolen merchandise, though every now and then items of uncertain authenticity went up cheap as well.
As they watched for a while, Black Sword — who had slipped off somewhere — returned and tapped Seomun Ak on the shoulder.
"The porters will be brought up soon."
"Is that so."
Seomun Ak's voice had gone noticeably cold.
Black Sword was inwardly rattled, but rich men were fickle as reeds by nature, so he let it pass.
Before long, a child was led up onto the platform.
It was a face both Jin Seongun and Seomun Ak knew well.