Now Under One Head - 1
The elders' all-out prostration protest didn't end after just one day. They seemed determined not to rise until they heard the answer they wanted from the sect leader, staying flat on the ground in front of the building even after a day turned into two. It was an insane level of obsession, but a utterly peaceful demonstration.
I'd braced myself for them mobilizing forces to shake Jeom-cheongpa even more, or for the Dan or Go families to step in.
"Their respect for you runs deeper than I expected."
"They handle most of the practical affairs, but even for the smallest matters, they seek my permission in the end. They say if the elders ignore the sect leader, who would follow the hierarchy?"
The sect leader replied to my words with a faint smile. As leaders of the factions within the sect, they were affirming their submission to the hierarchy with him at the top. At least they weren't the type to treat superiors like fools while being harsh on subordinates—personality wrecks.
Unexpected.
I'd figured the sect leader was the linchpin holding Jeom-cheongpa together. But I'd thought it was barely maintained through his tearful efforts and the leash of the Sai Sword Technique. I hadn't imagined the two elders prostrating themselves before him daily, solidifying such a firm position.
I had no idea how he'd built that standing, but one thing was clear: those two elders might play politics, but they wouldn't cross the line.
Worst case averted.
Sipping my tea, I glanced toward where the elders were. Even if their rivalry reached a boiling point, the fallout wouldn't harm the officials or the people. At worst, it'd end with Jeom-cheongpa splitting into two, with them snarling, "Let's never meet again, you bastard."
The only civilian casualty might be the sect leader himself, left jobless by the schism. They'd probably fight over who gets to take him in, pestering him endlessly—like the women in Solomon's tale claiming to be the child's true mother.
"Sect Leader."
"Yes, my lord. Please speak."
"Do you plan to keep the Sai Sword Technique secret forever?"
His smile turned slightly bitter at that.
"It's an encounter far beyond my deserving, but thanks to that undeserved fortune, a mere Daoist like me could swing a sword for the people. I have no desire to hoard it alone—I'd rather spread it far and wide."
I was satisfied seeing him calmly voice his hope to disseminate the Sai Sword Technique widely, raising martial artists devoted to the people. Wasn't that the attitude every murim fighter in this world should have?
"However, the elders acknowledge my authority because only through me can they receive the full Sai Sword Technique. I'm worried they might go berserk once I've fulfilled my role."
I nodded at his follow-up. A perfectly valid concern. Right now, those two were groveling before him, but people change—like before and after using the bathroom. Once they learned the full technique, they might start ignoring him. That would be a problem.
My assumption that Jeom-cheongpa's split wouldn't harm officials or people hinged on the sect leader's solid position.
But over-control has its own issues.
People's hearts shift before and after the bathroom, sure. But prolonged restraint breeds backlash—that's human nature too. For now, the elders held back for the Sai Sword Technique, but what if their unrequited love for it twisted them into dark elders? The thought alone made my head spin.
Besides, people are soothed more by carrots than whips. You need gains to sustain respect in a hierarchy.
"How much of the Sai Sword Technique have you passed on?"
"Exactly half to the elders—six out of the twelve forms."
Six out of twelve. Not bad at all.
"Pass on up to the eighth form to them, and hint that you'll teach the rest when the time comes. Of course, this is just personal advice—you don't have to follow it."
"My lord, if—"
"Don't worry. A martial artist skilled in the Sai Sword Technique devoting himself to the people benefits the court too. But if Jeom-cheongpa uses that power for personal glory and greed instead of the realm and its people, I'm fully prepared to rein it in."
I leaned toward the sect leader as I said that.
"I'll ensure only officially recognized Jeom-cheongpa disciples can use the Sai Sword Technique."
"Pardon?"
He blinked blankly at the word "officially recognized." As leader of a new sect, he still had much to learn.
The court controlled and checked murim. And naturally, that control targeted sects and clans as organizations. Directly managing individual martial artists would be administrative suicide with our already strained resources.
Thus, the court granted certain sects and clans the means to control their own members.
Martial Artist Certification System.
In exchange for managing and taking responsibility for their members' misdeeds, they gained legal authority to smash or expel violators of the organization's rules or will. That's the certification system.
Truth be told, it didn't need the grandiose term "certification system." Sects and clans had punished disobedient scum even in the untouchable murim days. But this was an official system—not murim custom, but court law.
Defy the organization, and the court brands you.
A lone martial artist rebelling against a murim force under court control? That meant defying the court's greater will, disrupting order, harming the realm and people. Any expelled disciple triggered immediate court intervention: scrutiny of their ideology, recent actions, suspicious contacts, etc. They weren't just ousted—they were socially obliterated. And they couldn't use their former sect's arts anymore.
If an expelled Huashan disciple used Plum Blossom Swordsmanship, the court—not Huashan—would crush them. How dare a rootless parakho wield an art from the emperor's treasure vault?
A wandering swordsman with no prior affiliation might get a pass, but one kicked out was as good as crippled.
Just make Jeom-cheongpa the same.
Elders go berserk after learning the Sai Sword Technique? Expel them on the spot. They resist and rampage? Then they face not just the sect leader, but Yun'nan's officials—and the court's. Go ahead if they want to die.
"...Is there such a law?"
"It's strictly for murim. Natural you wouldn't know, coming from civilian life until recently."
Not every sect or clan had this authority either. Only merit clans, giants, or promising ones. Handing immense power to shaky mid-tier or minor groups risked corporate-style abuse. We granted authority for control, not bullying.
"Granting it to a new sect is highly unusual, but Jeom-cheongpa's situation is unusual too. If the elders show any funny business, don't hesitate—swing the sword."
He nodded gravely, as if resolving something at my advice.
My sincerity finally reached the sect leader.
"Soon, I'll teach you both the seventh and eighth forms of the Sai Sword Technique."
After days of prostration, he personally raised me and that Go bastard, speaking the words we'd desperately hoped for.
"You two are Jeom-cheongpa's pillars and the shield protecting Yun'nan's people. If your achievements shine, I intend to pass everything to you—no need to torment yourselves like this."
The sect leader's firm promise to teach us the full Sai Sword Technique.
I felt like I was flying. Sure, it came with the condition of outstanding achievement, but it beat endless waiting. And the sect leader wasn't one to renege.
If he deemed my progress truly lacking, that'd be my own failing. I'd have to humbly accept it.
"The latter half, from the seventh form on, is kept in a separate place. Let's go together tomorrow."
All the more reason to strive harder. To seize the opportunity he'd granted.
To grasp this hard-won fortune.
—Or so I thought.
"Sect Leader! What the hell is this?!"
"Think of it as a light trial."
"Light, my ass... damn it!"
I let out a hollow chuckle at Go bastard's scream laced with despair. Normally, I'd mock his ugly state, but not now.
We were both equally pathetic.
Is this a dream?
My wretched form crawling on the floor. Arrows and spears raining down endlessly overhead. Flames spewing inexplicably from the ground, no matter the principle.
This was madness. I couldn't fathom why I was here.
Why keep the latter half in a place like this?
Tears welled up. The injustice burned.
Following the sect leader eagerly had been fine at first. Learning the Sai Sword Technique's latter half was kept at the fateful discovery site? Touching, even—a symbol of trust in sharing it with us.
But the site of that fateful encounter, where the latter half lay, was hell.
How did he even get through this?
Mind-boggling. I'd heard he was an ordinary Daoist—how did one pierce such obstacles? Unbelievable. Had he mastered shrinking-earth techniques or something?
"Left Elder. Rolling stone coming."
At the sect leader's leisurely voice, I hurriedly rolled aside. At this rate, I'd learn the Sai Sword Technique in the afterlife.