The Shadow of the Ghost Gate
In Hebei Province’s Northern Zhili region lay Muan County. Tucked tight against the Taihang Mountains where they bordered Shanxi Province, the town had fallen into pure pandemonium, swallowed whole by terror.
“They say a Ghost Gate has opened on the northern mountain slope. We need to run—now!”
“But Beijing is practically next door, and His Majesty is there. Surely the Murim Supervisory Office or the Jinyiwei will move?”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Weren’t they all thrown into the closure battle for the Ghost Gate that opened on Mount Xiao Tai?”
At some point, the common people had gained one more thing to fear. Plenty of things already threatened their lives, yet this new horror moved on an entirely different plane from the rest.
It was more frightening than the Murim warriors who seemed like immortals floating above the clouds—beings it was hard to believe belonged to the same species. Taxes that darkened the prospect of tomorrow’s meals? During spring famines or droughts, at least relief grain arrived as partial compensation. Murim fighters who might kill you if things went wrong? Being human, many would offer genuine help if you appealed to their hearts. Even the Sapa crowd, though few in number, could become the most reliable allies once you formed a personal bond.
But the new terror was different. It did not speak human language, so there was no begging for mercy. It was a pure concentration of violence that ordinary folk could never hope to oppose. And because it felt no greed for their possessions, there was no final line of “at least spare our lives.”
The number of times these creatures killed officials, Murim practitioners, or civilians was small—fewer than deaths from tiger attacks or plague, most likely. Sapa warriors might be fierce and willful, yet even they could not ignore the government’s gaze. A shrinking population meant shrinking profits, so even when they killed, they kept it to a minimum. Those who practiced bizarre arts and slaughtered as easily as eating were not even granted the name Sapa; both the righteous and evil factions of Murim would brand them public enemies of the jianghu and cooperate with the imperial court to exterminate them.
Thus, no matter how bloody and blade-filled the rivers and lakes of Murim might be, the common people viewed that world as something half a step removed, like a distant realm. Their threshold for fear was low, so the mere rumor that a Ghost Gate had opened was enough to plunge all of Muan County into utter panic.
“The atmosphere here is complete chaos.”
It was around that time that Namgung Woo and the men from the Yo-pyeong Express agency stepped into Muan County.
“The refugee columns we saw on the way weren’t that large. It feels less like they’re prepared and more like they simply don’t know what to do.”
“This has always been the way of Hebei. With the capital Beijing right here, people assume they’re safe.”
Namgung Woo thought of the term “safety blindness” at those words. It seemed ill-suited to this era, yet Pyeong Cho-yul’s explanation fit perfectly.
“The imperial family won’t sit idle, either. They would never want chaos to erupt in Hebei—in Northern Zhili, of all places. The army stationed here appears to have been sent to Mount Xiao Tai, so at the very least they’ll dispatch the Jinyiwei.”
The Jinyiwei were the emperor’s personal guard. In this world where martial arts were real, it was simplest to think of them as an elite special forces unit of the imperial house in which every member practiced martial arts.
“Still, the distance from here to Beijing is considerable, isn’t it?”
“Roughly a thousand li. Even changing horses at relay stations, it would take seven days. No one knows what might happen in the meantime, so the people are fleeing.”
As expected of someone who worked for an express agency, his distance calculations were swift.
“Seven days… that should be enough time to hold out against the monsters coming from the Ghost Gate, shouldn’t it?”
“It depends. Every Ghost Gate spits out different monsters. Some release creatures that ordinary people without martial training can withstand. Others can annihilate even the elite forces of the Nine Great Schools. Sorcerers can usually gauge the threat… but as you know, those sorcerers are far fewer in number than Murim warriors.”
I wouldn’t know. Namgung Woo once again realized how little he still understood about this world.
Pyeong Cho-yul continued. “The real problem is the state of Hebei’s Murim community.”
“Its state?”
“Hebei is one of the weakest regions in the entire Murim world.”
“Ah… of course.”
From the imperial family’s viewpoint, it was only natural to loathe the existence of powerful Murim factions in Hebei—right in their own front yard. They must have applied hidden pressure on the local Murim powers. As a result, Hebei’s Murim had grown weak and Northern Zhili had fallen completely under imperial influence.
“They’ll probably try to make up for it by urgently gathering ronin. Will you be joining them?”
It seemed Pyeong Cho-yul had already guessed that Namgung Woo intended to involve himself in the crisis.
“Yes, that’s my plan.”
“I’m sorry, but…”
When Pyeong Cho-yul spoke carefully, Namgung Woo nodded with genuine understanding. This time he truly grasped the man’s position.
“I understand. An express agency’s first duty is to transport its cargo safely. That must remain the priority.”
“Still… it doesn’t sit well with me, sending the benefactor of Lady Chae-ji into danger.”
Pyeong Cho-yul sounded sincerely apologetic. Namgung Woo, however, paid it little mind. The others treated him as an honored guest because of his connection to Song Chae-ji, but he felt he had been the one receiving help.
“On the contrary, I’m the one who feels ashamed for only taking and never giving back. Which is why…”
At Namgung Woo’s words, Pyeong Cho-yul let out a hearty laugh.
“Then I’ll look forward to it. I hope to hear your name echo through Beijing.”
There were only three Murim factions in Muan County—an absurdly small number compared to other counties. Even those had been created half out of obligation by the white and black paths to maintain balance. The only group truly willing to roll up their sleeves for Muan County was the Lee family, the local gentry clan.
Claiming the ancient Muan Lord Lee Mok—who was said to have received the county as his fief—as their ancestor, they had resolved to defend the town until reinforcements arrived, even if every last one of them died. Naturally, the Lee family was also the one gathering the ronin.
Namgung Woo stored his luggage at the inn Pyeong Cho-yul had arranged and headed straight for the Lee residence.
Quite a crowd.
There appeared to be at least thirty people. It seemed they had caught wind of the Ghost Gate’s signs. Like Namgung Woo’s own group, who had learned of it from bandits while crossing the Taihang Mountains, these warriors had rushed here after hearing separate rumors.
They say the ghost relics you can obtain by killing yokai are quite valuable.
Namgung Woo had received a rapid education on the essentials from Pyeong Cho-yul. In his estimation, more than half the ronin gathered here had likely come hoping to strike it rich from those byproducts—like treasure hunters of a sort.
Of course, fewer than half of them were proper martial artists.
Still, a few of them are rather…
Namgung Woo’s eyes turned a clear blue as he swiftly scanned the crowd. Here and there he spotted warriors whose level matched Song Chae-ji’s.
No Peak Realm experts, though.
Perhaps Hwang Mu-tak’s realm had been higher than expected; among the thirty-plus ronin, not one reached his level. The same held true for the representatives of the local sects—the Yugeon Sect and the Jegam Bang.
There was exactly one exception.
The Lee family head, was it?
A middle-aged man in his later years stood at the front, personally directing the gathering. He seemed comparable to Hwang Mu-tak.
About even. If anything, Hwang Mu-tak might be slightly stronger.
While Namgung Woo observed and assessed the crowd, the line shortened until it was his turn.
“If you have an identification plaque, please present it.”
“Ah, instead of a plaque I carry the escort certificate from the Yo-pyeong Express agency.”
“Yo-pyeong Express? The one from Shanxi Province?”
“Yes.”
“Support from the Yo-pyeong Express agency?”
The clerk recording the names shot to his feet and offered a fist salute.
“This one is Lee Woo-nyeong of the Lee family. We are grateful for the Yo-pyeong Express agency’s assistance. Are you here as their representative? In that case, we should inform the family head—”
It seemed the man had mistaken Namgung Woo for an official envoy representing the entire agency. Feeling a touch awkward, Namgung Woo clarified.
“The agency is only sending me. Please register me as an individual.”
“Ah… forgive me. We’re so desperate for even a single extra hand that I was rude.”
“It’s quite all right.”
True to his background as a member of a righteous martial family, Lee Woo-nyeong showed almost no sign of disappointment and readily admitted his mistake. It was rather impressive.
“My name is Nam Woo. As for my age…”
What should I say? Come to think of it, Namgung Woo had never actually stated his age since arriving in this world. Back at the Yo-pyeong Express agency everyone had simply looked at his face and assumed he was around twenty.
By my original age I’d be twenty-six, but saying that here would only invite suspicion. I should lower it a little.
Since he was already using an alias, what harm was there in shaving a few years? It wasn’t as if he gained anything by lying about his age.
I look about twenty on the outside, so let’s settle on twenty-three.
Having decided, Namgung Woo opened his mouth.
“Twenty—”
Before he could finish, a commotion erupted at the wide-open main gate of the Lee residence. A warrior wearing the family’s uniform came sprinting in, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Though Hebei’s Murim had weakened, its foundation had not completely vanished. The world still knew them as one of the Seven Great Families—the Hebei Paeng Family.