Sichuan Outing - Part 2
“Hmm! Your drawing stance is perfectly balanced! That’s not a posture you can achieve with just a day or two of training!”
“Your physical development is excellent as well! Truly remarkable!”
“Martial talent! To think such talent existed! Why has it only appeared now!”
A sudden, relentless barrage of praise!
“You look to be in your early twenties, yet at this level you could grow into a martial artist representing all of Sichuan!”
“That bamboo hat hides your face, but from the air about you it’s clear you’re handsome as well!”
“The sort of face that will be popular with the ladies!”
So this is… a sect recruitment pitch, right? But why are all these recruiters swarming me alone? There’s a pair of ultra-premium prospects standing right over there—Heukmyo and Hyeok Gi-rin.
“Truly incredible!”
“Anyway, we want you!”
“So we desire you!”
“W-wait! Hold on!”
I raised a hand to stop them, but the recruiters from each sect paid no attention whatsoever. They simply kept firing off mindless compliments while dumping out every line they had prepared.
“Would you people just calm down for a second?!”
“Won’t you join us at Cheongun Hall? We’re a storied martial hall that earned a silver-rank evaluation in the bandit suppression campaign!”
“Sangil Gate is a gold-rimmed sect! With your skill you’d more than qualify as our disciple! Join now and lodging is provided free of charge!”
“Dodong Sect is currently recruiting external experts with great enthusiasm! Lodging, of course, plus a settlement support fund!”
This is hopeless. It felt exactly like those insurance cold-calls that keep talking without taking a breath so you never get the chance to refuse. And then came the endless requests for handshakes… no, for paper!
“Here, here! Give them to me!”
One man stepped forward and began collecting the sheets. The top page bore the words [Sangseo Gate Recruitment Proposal].
“Heh heh, I’ve only been setting up this recruitment stall on the street for a short while, yet I’ve never seen so many proposals pile up! I’ll have something to brag about over drinks later.”
“…Ah. Thank you.”
I had no intention of joining any Sichuan sect, but I was still curious about what the proposals actually said. Reading them over wouldn’t hurt.
“Don’t forget Dodong Sect!”
“Sangil Gate’s terms can be raised as high as you like—please visit our main hall!”
Once I accepted the stack of proposals, the recruiters each left a parting line and withdrew cleanly.
Honestly, I had braced myself for an armed clash… but thinking about it, that assumption was ridiculous.
These people wanted to recruit me into their own sects. When you need to make the best possible impression, why would you resort to force?
For seven years, every time I ran into a Sichuan martial artist I had drawn steel and fought. The moment warriors approached, my spine had almost reflexively pulled a weapon.
An occupational hazard of sorts, I supposed.
The three of us quickly left the recruitment zone behind.
“Whew, what a racket that was.”
“I’m glad it ended without any real conflict.”
“Something big must be changing in Sichuan. It’s rare for the orthodox factions to recruit outside martial artists this aggressively.”
“True enough.”
I folded the proposals in half, tucked them into my robes, and bought some skewers from a street vendor while asking questions. Anyone running a stall right in front of the monument would be well-versed in local gossip.
“What’s all this fuss about? Can you tell me what’s going on in Sichuan these days?”
The stall owner, who had watched the entire earlier commotion, laughed heartily.
“You’re asking about the recruitment officers?”
“That’s right.”
“Ever since the bandit suppression, the Sichuan martial world has been in an uproar! Does the wandering warrior know about the sect ranking plaques?”
“I do. I’ve also heard there will be a martial arts tournament later for the platinum plaques. What I want to know is why so many sect recruiters are standing right in front of the suppression monument.”
“Haha, that’s because outside martial artists have been pouring into Sichuan after hearing the recent rumors.”
“…Hmm?”
“What’s happening in Sichuan right now is no ordinary affair. The martial artists of Sichuan uniting as one to wipe out the bandits. The revenge drama and righteous retribution of the Red Bamboo Hero Yeo Il-ye, set against the backdrop of Sichuan itself! The downfall of the Jamhong Gate and the Golden Family!”
He cut himself off there and rubbed his fingers together. I bought extra skewers.
This old man knows how to work the tip system.
“All of it is news enough to set any martial artist’s blood racing. Outsiders are flocking here in droves, hoping to expand their ambitions and absorb the vital energy of Sichuan’s heroes.”
“Hmm.”
I hadn’t expected that, but looking back it makes perfect sense.
Was there any giant stone monument dedicated to martial artists in this Murim world? There wasn’t. In fact, almost nothing was ever built to honor martial artists at all.
“I see… that makes sense. A martial artist’s life usually drifts away as rumor and then vanishes without a trace.”
Hyeok Gi-rin nodded in agreement. She was right. Previous-generation masters? Masters from the generation before that? Once they died or simply dropped out of contact for long enough, they faded naturally from people’s minds. Only figures like Bodhidharma of Shaolin or Zhang Sanfeng of Wudang left their names forever.
99.99 percent of martial artists were mentioned by people for a brief stretch of their lives and then left nothing behind when they disappeared.
Perhaps that was a big reason martial artists obsessed over passing on their arts and raising disciples. Wanting to leave something behind was human nature.
“…I understand.”
Even transmitting one’s martial arts and raising disciples required a certain level of standing. After all, only a handful of people under heaven possessed arts worth teaching in the first place.
So martial artists were flooding in with the vague hope that staying in Sichuan might give them a chance to leave their names behind.
And when those martial artists arrived, where would they go first?
Straight to the monument, of course.
“That’s why so many sect recruitment officers were gathered in front of the monument.”
Sichuan had become an environment more than capable of drawing martial artists. The Hero’s Sashes might have become the exclusive property of the suppressors, but for showy martial artists even a ranked belt was plenty attractive.
On top of that came the recruitment war among the sects sharpening their blades and expanding their forces in hopes of leaping up to platinum rank.
“And Sichuan isn’t completely locked down by the Hwangbo Clan or the Nine Great Sects and One Alliance, is it? After this incident, public opinion of the Hwangbo Clan, Emei Sect, Qingcheng Sect, and Zhongnan Sect—who had all cooperated with the Golden Family—has soured. That alone makes the province look like a land of opportunity to many martial artists.”
The Jeomchang Sect had openly clashed with the Merchant Alliance—more precisely with Hwanggeum-seon—so they had escaped suspicion of being in league with the Golden Family. The other great factions, however, now carried the stigma of having been played by the Golden Family or of having cooperated with them, and their reputations had taken a solid hit.
To those who had long been blocked by the ceiling of the Five Great Clans and Nine Great Sects, Sichuan might have started to look like a free land.
“Hmm. I’ve heard enough. Thank you.”
“Aye, and may the warrior enjoy his sightseeing!”
Hyeok Gi-rin stroked her chin thoughtfully.
“Sichuan is going to develop quite significantly from here on. The foundation was already solid, but the quality of its martial artists had been lacking… If outside experts keep pouring in, five or ten years from now no one will be able to dismiss a Sichuan martial artist lightly.”
“Now that they’ve tasted the benefits of recruiting external experts, some sects will start actively headhunting them. Things should get rather interesting.”
As Sichuan’s ecosystem grew more unique and developed its own distinctive color, more and more experts would feel drawn to that flavor and move their nests here.
“The martial arts tournament held under the platinum plaques should be quite the spectacle.”
“Heh heh, indeed. Coming back to watch it wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“Ah, so we’ll come back then?”
“Yes. Unless something special comes up, I’d like to watch the tournament myself.”
“Senior, remember that well. If you try to skip out later under the excuse of training, I won’t let it slide!”
“Ah, fine, fine, I got it.”
We came out for a casual outing and somehow ended up making another outing appointment. Heukmyo was already excited, grabbing Hyeok Gi-rin’s arm and pulling her ahead.
“Slowly, slowly, please!”
“Ah, look over there—a rice-cracker stall I’ve never seen before!”
Hyeok Gi-rin was being dragged this way and that by the runaway Heukmyo. She looked a little troubled, yet the crease between her brows that had been present back at Sama Yeom’s residence was completely gone.
Well… both of them are enjoying themselves, so that’s good enough.
“Senior, hurry up!”
“Ah, yeah, I’m coming.”
Call me ‘warrior,’ not ‘senior.’
I grumbled inwardly and quickened my steps.
When the Emperor’s summons arrived, Hyeok Gi-rin’s first thought was worry for Ho Cheon-an.
An eccentric.
That was how Hyeok Gi-rin evaluated Ho Cheon-an—an eccentric through and through. A man of many talents who, instead of chasing power or wealth with those talents, simply lived according to whatever interested him.
In her eyes, Ho Cheon-an was free, a man with no interest whatsoever in fame or authority.
Yeo Il-ye was one of the Ten Successors of the Jeomchang Sect. The value of the Favor-and-Grudge Token she carried needed no explanation. Yet he had casually tossed it away just to stop Yeo Il-ye, and afterward never once brought up the compensation that token represented.
It had been the same when he received rewards from Sama Yeom. Given his achievements he could have demanded a fortune in gold and still come up short, yet he only took what he personally needed.
Even when Elder Un-jong attained enlightenment, Ho Cheon-an could have extracted far more yet showed no great greed.
A man who liked children and sincerely worked to close the distance between the elders and the young disciples.
As a result, Jeomchang had developed in a better direction—and was still developing.
In many ways, Ho Cheon-an was someone Hyeok Gi-rin felt deeply grateful toward.
And now, because of her, he was being forced to go to the Imperial Palace.
Ho Cheon-an had acted pleased, saying the Emperor’s summons would bring him good rewards, but Hyeok Gi-rin could not take that reaction at face value.
She had forced him to abandon a stable environment right when his martial arts were advancing and set out on the road. For a man who cared little for wealth, this could only be an unwelcome development.
He was probably only putting on a positive face because it was an imperial command.
If only nothing happens once we reach the palace…
Many years had passed since Hyeok Gi-rin last appeared at any official state function. Enough time for those who had once sought to use her for power to lose their strength—yet losing strength was not the same as being completely uprooted.
What on earth is Elder Brother thinking…
Even if their influence had waned, they still sat at the core of power. The moment she set foot in the capital they would move to revive their factions.
To them it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that would never come again.
Unrest was inevitable… and the chance that Ho Cheon-an would get swept up in it was high. No—what Hyeok Gi-rin truly feared was not that he would be swept up.
It was that he would start stirring things himself.
If that happened and he caught the Emperor’s eye, if he were suddenly handed an official post, Ho Cheon-an’s free life would be over.
That cannot be allowed!
Repaying kindness with enmity was unthinkable. Even if only for the sake of coming back to watch the martial arts tournament, she had to prevent that outcome.
“Warrior Ho.”
“Yes?”
“In the Imperial Palace, you need only trust me.”
Looking at Ho Cheon-an’s bewildered expression, Hyeok Gi-rin hardened her resolve. There was a saying: an awl in a bag will eventually poke through the leather. If you did not want the awl to be noticed, you had to put it inside an iron box.
“You understand, yes? Just trust me and stay still! Do nothing! Simply remain where you are!”
“…Ah. Yes.”
Watching Ho Cheon-an answer with a dubious look, Hyeok Gi-rin let out a snort of determination.
Trust only me. I will get you out of the imperial household safely and ensure you can continue your free life!
That was the vow Hyeok Gi-rin made.