The Sword Ghost's Fortuitous Encounter
In the world of wuxia novels, it's all about fortuitous encounters, and fortuitous encounters mean wuxia. If myths revolve around gods and folktales are passed down through the ages, then it's no exaggeration to say wuxia tales are stories of those fateful opportunities. The protagonist might even be a mere tool to bring them about.
As a literary device, a fortuitous encounter is like a deus ex machina. This term, meaning "god from the machine," originates from ancient Greek theater. In simple terms, it refers to an element that resolves events or wraps up the plot regardless of the story's flow. These days, it's evolved a bit to describe sudden powerful characters popping up out of nowhere or events happening without foreshadowing.
From that perspective, the fortuitous encounters that propel a wuxia protagonist's growth are prime examples of excellent deus ex machina. In ordinary novels, growth comes from the protagonist enduring failures, setbacks, and insights to take that one step forward through various trials. Stories centered on this process even get their own genre: coming-of-age tales.
But wuxia authors don't need intricate plots for their heroes' development thanks to these fortuitous encounters. They just stage some crisis—falling off a cliff, collapsing on the brink of death, fleeing from assassins—and then "dope" him up with stuff like "a hidden treasure from a hermit 300 years ago," "an inner core in a cave at the cliff base," or "a long-lost manual found by chance in a warehouse." It's like L'Hôpital's rule for lazy wuxia writers.
Of course, that's too harsh on wuxia authors—there are plenty who captivate readers with meticulous plotting. Abuse those ridiculous encounters too much, and you'll get branded a hack writer like me. Even when I wrote wuxia erotica, I tossed in some utterly idiotic ones. For reference, mine involved the protagonist slipping in front of the heroine and accidentally shoving his dick into her pussy. Pro term: lucky sukebe.
These days, fortuitous encounters in wuxia aren't just convenient plot crutches anymore—they're essential elements in their own right. I bet a wuxia without them would feel boring. Like watching soccer without a goalkeeper.
The protagonist of Extreme Sword Heavenly Immortal, Gong Useon, gets his share of fortuitous encounters like any wuxia hero. As befits a wuxia lead, he racks up so many you couldn't count them on your fingers. The most crucial one? Meeting his master.
Considering how rare it is these days to feature a brilliant mentor as a fortuitous encounter, Extreme Sword Heavenly Immortal's take feels refreshingly classic. Modern wuxia strives for originality—sometimes so wildly that it makes your brain want to escape your skull.
Jangbaeksan is a sacred mountain brimming with spiritual energy. From its peak, Tianzi, you can faintly glimpse the will of heaven; its ley lines teem with elixirs and spirit beasts; and nearly a cartload of hermits live out leisurely retirements here.
If you had to name the strongest person on Jangbaeksan, it'd hands-down be True SwordHan Kangwoo. Back in his youth, this swordmaster from remote Jangbaeksan—unknown even by name in the Central Plains—traveled the land under the moniker Sword Ghost, felling countless experts with his 1.5-meter longsword.
Kneeling before his blade were the heads of Shaolin, Wudang, and Huashan sects; the patriarchs of Nangong and Murong families; the Peng Clan of Hebei; and even the Alliance of the Wicked's leader. In short, he smashed every pot worth a damn in the Central Plains.
More than qualified to play the protagonist's master.
The Central Plains martial world buried their shame deep. After all, their proud sect elders got wrecked by some outsider swordsman. So the Sword Ghost's name faded into a bygone terror known only to dusty old-timers.
Han Kangwoo never craved fame anyway. His wanderings were solely to hone his swordsmanship, so he slipped into obscurity. But the previous generation's martial artists who witnessed his audacious feats never forgot. To inherit the arts that cleaved the jianghu in two, they send their disciples to his Jangbaeksan retreat.
Of course, Han Kangwoo turns them all away.
In the original novel, protagonist Gong Useon stumbles upon Han Kangwoo on Jangbaeksan by chance and becomes his first disciple.
"Watch your step here. The path's steep, and there are tons of exposed tree roots—easy to trip and tumble."
I looked down at the man's warning. Just as he said, a rugged, precipitous trail stretched ahead. He navigated this martial artist-proof hellpath like it was his own backyard. With that sack on his back, he could've passed for a seasoned herb gatherer. Wonder if he forages as a side gig?
"Oh, and see that cave over there? Never go in. Sometimes eerie screams echo from it. Poke your head in out of curiosity, and you'll be off to meet King Yama that same day."
"A fierce beast in there?"
"If it were just a beast, I wouldn't bother warning you. Never seen it myself, but big bro says a venomous spirit beast lurks inside."
Jangbaeksan crawls with spirit beasts. Most are barely worthy of the name—small fry. The ones martial artists hunt desperately for inner cores? Rare even here. Relatively speaking, though, it's way more than your average mountain—probably outnumbers those on Wudangshan in raw count.
If Han Kangwoo's warning about it, must be a formidable one... What could it be?
I racked my brain recalling the original novel. Spirit beasts do appear, but mostly from the Central Plains. There was one native to Jangbaeksan, I think? Can't quite remember. Not important right now anyway—I shoved the thought aside.
"Oh ho. Look at those flowers in full bloom. Like a ripe barley field bursting with grain."
I pointed to the field of golden plum blossoms unfurling their brilliant hue, their fragrance divine. Brewed into tea, it'd make something special.
"That's big bro's flower patch. Seeing it means we're almost there."
Sure enough, our destination was close.
"Right there."
We'd arrived. The man pointed to the cliff edge ahead. Atop a sheer wall impossible to scale without climbing gear perched a stylish hermitage in vibrant blues and reds. It was like a ink wash painting brushed by Buddha himself—the cliff and the majestic structure atop it stole my gaze completely.
Perfectly harmonious with nature, yet radiating tremendous presence. The elegant hermitage blended seamlessly with the cliff, just as described in the novel. No—better.
And the air around the cliff was thick with a tickling sweet scent: those golden plum blossoms from earlier.
I stared in admiration. Seeing my expression, the man crossed his arms and nodded.
"Everyone makes that face seeing big bro's handiwork. Plenty of carpenters want to be his disciple for it. But a picky one-handed carpenter like him? Probably one of a kind in the whole land."
True Sword Han Kangwoo: swordsman and one-handed carpenter.
"This is as far as I guide you."
"No path up from here?"
"Only way I know is scaling this cliff. Martial artists who've come this far climb it with confidence. 'Course, only half make it."
He pointed to the sky opposite the cliff. A few eagles circled in lazy donuts, their golden beaks marking them as no ordinary birds—radiating an otherworldly aura.
"Big bro's pets. They attack anyone climbing indiscriminately. Not your average eagles—watch out. Oh, and I've cleaned up plenty of corpses from here."
With a casual wave, he turned. "Good luck."
"Thanks."
I bowed to him. Got here easier than expected. Saved way more time than planned.
This is Han Kangwoo's first test. Should be straightforward.
*-*-*
Clouds snagged on the mountaintop. Dense green trees filled the eyes like a packed forest. A soothing sight for weary eyes. Cool breezes sweeping the grand veranda perfected the scene.
No amount of gold could buy this view. A paradise rivaling Peach Blossom Land stretched before him, with a sturdy roof overhead against the rain. The pinewood floor beneath released a fresh, invigorating scent. A nap here promised sweet dreams.
He sprawled eagle-spread on the veranda. One wrong roll, and it'd be a plunge into the abyss dozens of zhang below—but such worries were trivial to him. Even if he fell, he wasn't some fragile mortal who'd die from it.
"Hm?"
As he settled in for a nature-embraced snooze like some scholar, a familiar energy brushed his senses—one known, one stranger.
"Geumbo's brought a guest."
The hermitage's master, Han Kangwoo, sat up. First visitor this month? He was used to them—every month, a few trekked from distant Central Plains to seek him out. His name should've been erased from the jianghu, yet they always found him. Astonishing.
The Central Plains folk's obsession with power is terrifying. They never give up.
For power, they'd sell parents and siblings without batting an eye. Traversing the Central Plains in his youth taught Han Kangwoo that brutal truth. Sure, kin-slaying for power happened here too—not uniquely their greed.
Still, mingling with those ravenous demons was anathema to him. After his youthful travels, Central Plains visits were rare.
Han Kangwoo walked to the veranda's edge. From this panoramic vantage, he took in the visitor's face. Geumbo had returned to his duties, as always.
Young one.
Lately, few youths came. This one felt refreshing. All Central Plains seekers craved his arts, yet none succeeded.
Not because he refused to teach. Quite the opposite. He didn't want his sword's ultimate techniques to die with him.
But he refused to let them corrupt in mediocre hands. When passing knowledge to a disciple, its purity must be preserved—or it's not transmission, but reinvention.
To inherit his enlightenment, they had to prove worthy themselves. That was Han Kangwoo's condition.
And the test of proof began now.
First trial: scaling this cliff. Most fail here.
Han Kangwoo sat with legs dangling over the edge. Channeling inner energy into his eyes sharpened his vision to the youth's pores far below.
Surprisingly confident expression on the young man's face.