Spring Scenery (3)
Spring Scenery (3)
I walked for a long time.
After being stuck lying down in the dungeon all day, the sensation of moving my body was incredibly refreshing.
It was quite miserable while I was locked underground.
They only brought me pale, watery porridge, the water had a strange fishy taste, and whenever someone visited, they were too busy spewing curses at me.
Why are those so-called martial artists so long-winded?
At this point in time, I knew I had some talent, but I never imagined I'd become strong enough to wipe out an entire sect just by learning a bit of Demonic Arts.
After all, in 'Hyeop-un', my role was to borrow the power of the Demonic Cult, bring a bunch of underlings, and exterminate the Diancang Sect.
And that was long after I had converted to the Demonic Cult.
The Diancang Sect is usually that kind of role anyway.
Should I say they're the easiest to hit first when the Demonic Cult starts stretching its limbs?
Compared to the Emei Sect, where only women gather, or the Tang Clan, which is full of human stink bugs (surprisingly, they actually spray it) that seem like they'd spray poison the moment you touch them, the Diancang Sect is definitely easier to handle.
There's also the fact that they're relatively close to the Tianshan Mountains.
However, even that easy-to-handle Diancang Sect... could easily wipe out the Changun Sect, which was full of nobodies except for me and my Master.
A first-rate martial artist can easily handle five second-rate ones, but most of the Changun Sect disciples were second or third-rate.
Well, that's why we lived being called bandits.
Come to think of it, I don't think the Changun Sect was actually exterminated.
I'm still here.
Originally, half of the Changun Sect's fighting power was Master, and the other half was me.
And in the first place, Master was planning to pass the Changun Sect down to me.
Since I was at the Academy, they only had to deal with Master, so it must have been even easier for them.
"I knew this would happen, though."
But things in the world don't usually go that easily.
The Diancang Sect probably never thought that after dealing with the Sect Leader, his disciple would come and destroy half their sect.
It's the same with martial arts.
Martial artists often have this fantasy that the Demonic Cult is strong because of those damn Demonic Arts.
But the reason Demonic Arts are called Demonic Arts is simpler than you'd think.
It's because they're full of defects.
Unless you learn them the proper way, or you have incredible talent like me, they might give you power that transcends your realm for a very short while, but... eventually, you lose your sanity and your Dantian melts away.
Anything gained by cramming, whether it's knowledge or power, is bound to be lost unless you're exceptionally smart.
Anyway, maybe because Shinnyeo-nim's secret technique is also from the Demonic Cult, it seems to be full of defects too.
When I returned, if everyone in the Changun Sect had been dead for a long time, even someone as gentle as me would have to consider going to the Diancang Sect again to vent some anger.
Besides, I even regressed, and the key figures remember me.
There must be more than a few people who want to chop off my limbs ing-cha-ing-cha right now and then roast me alive while I'm still fresh.
I wandered around the empty Changun Sect for a long time.
The Diancang Sect people, claiming to be a righteous sect, didn't kill the orphans taken in by the Changun Sect.
Since the kids had to eat, they went back down to the city to beg or live as pickpockets, so there wasn't a single child left, but I'm just grateful they at least built graves for them.
However, Master's body isn't here.
Because those Diancang Sect bastards took it and buried it somewhere on their own mountain.
In the past, I was too busy killing them before even getting an answer, so I don't know the exact location... and now I'm too scared to even go look for it.
My body might be young, but my mind is already that of an old, weak man, so I've developed a sense of caution.
Not just So-ha, but other people might be waiting for me there.
When you live as an idol, the thing you have to be most careful about is stalkers.
You can tell just by looking at my case, where I worked as the idol of the Murim world that everyone paid attention to for several years, only to be captured by malicious fans in the end.
While I was worrying about where the safest place would be... I thought the Academy would be the safest.
It's a place like a social club where there's nothing to learn, and talented rising stars occasionally hold duels and engage in power struggles like the noble ladies in romance fantasies... but that's exactly why it's safe.
When martial artists are engaging in power struggles, it means they're in a situation where they can't kill each other.
No matter how much you gild them with words like martial artist, Jianghu person, the precious child of some sect or family, or rising star, in the end, they're just swordsmen who hack people to pieces.
And when they're pissed off, the first thing swordsmen do is draw their swords.
Ah, I don't count spears and fists.
Spears are weapons used by underlings who don't know what style is, and the guys who use fists are all either idiots trying to turn their bodies into metal or crazy bastards who beat people up while claiming to be monks.
I sat by the grave next to the sect, stared blankly at the pine tree, and then stood up.
Because nothing changes just by being sentimental.
If you attend the Academy, they give you a three-week break once a year.
Most people visit their own sects, but So-ha said she was sick of her home and stayed with the Namgung Clan near the Academy.
It seems she's quite close with the young lady there, so she got tangled up with me in a bad way too.
So if I head to the Academy right now... I might be lucky enough not to run into her.
I slung a bundle with a few pieces of clothing stuffed inside over my shoulder and slowly started to descend the mountain.
The wind blew, carrying the green scent of pine trees.
By the time I came down the mountain and reached the dirt road, I saw a wagon slowly rolling from afar.
On top of the old wagon loaded with rice straw, an old man wearing a straw hat pulled low was dozing off while holding the whip.
I lightly waved my hand to call the wagon.
"Old man, are you on your way to Nanjing?"
"I am, but you look like a martial artist, young man..."
"I won't charge you a toll, so let me ride along."
"...It's been a fortnight since the Changun Sect was destroyed, and you're talking about a toll?"
"Why would it be destroyed when the Sect Leader is standing right in front of you? And a toll? Please use a more pleasant word if you can."
"You just said 'toll' yourself."
"Ah."
The old man looked displeased but nodded as if telling me to get on.
If I had some bandit sensibility, I would rob everything here, take all the purses from the passengers on the wagon, and then take the wagon for myself, but I am the Sect Leader of the Changun Sect, the most righteous of the righteous sects.
Since I didn't steal the wagon and am even sharing it with other people, isn't this setting a good example as a Sect Leader?
Whether I'm a member of the Changun Sect or not, if you have a sword at your waist, conversation and negotiation become this easy.
Actually, there's no need to ride a wagon like this.
Martial artists can just walk.
They don't get tired, and when it comes to walking, they're sometimes faster than horses.
If I get hungry on the way, I can just get some 'cooperation' from passersby or an inn.
Anyway, it wouldn't be a problem to walk... but it would be troublesome if I ran into someone I knew.
Since I wouldn't lose, I would definitely kill the opponent, and if they remember me, they must be a child raised preciously in some family.
I don't want to become a public enemy of the Murim world as soon as I return and be chased from place to place, so avoiding them was the best policy.
On the wagon, dry straw was piled up carelessly.
When I lay down on it, the smell of old dust strangely pricked my nose.
The sunlight was moderately stinging, and the sky was clear without a single cloud.
Like that, I spent a month riding the wagon and leisurely following the road.
Sometimes it rained, but most of the days were clear, bright, and sunny.
And on days like this... maybe because the weather is exceptionally good, even the bandit bastards tend to come down from the mountains and go out for outings on the road.
Deol-keong, deol-keong.
The wagon's wheels rolled and then stopped.
Blocking the road were three large men.
The bearded man standing in the front swung a sharp, blue-bladed broadsword in the air and shouted in a rough voice.
"Do you know where this is, daring to push your wagon through here! Hand over all the cargo on the wagon and strip off all your clothes!"
The people on the wagon got off, taking their outer garments and purses as if they were used to this.
Originally, even if bandits talk like that, they are friends who aim for sustainable plundering, so they don't take everything.
Very, truly ve-ry occasionally, there are bastards who aren't satisfied with taking what you have and even take your life, but they don't last long.
Because those vicious bastards are bound to be hunted down by someone, whether it's the protagonist or someone else.
But... seeing as they're actually stripping people's clothes off when I thought they were just talking, it seems they are those rare bandits you only meet very occasionally.
Nanjing must be getting close.
There are some occasionally.
The kind of people who try to make a quick buck around big cities and then run.
They could be called a slightly different breed from the good-natured bandits who want sustainable plundering.
A moment later, one of the bandits came sauntering toward the back of the wagon.
The bandit spotted me, glared, and shouted.
While doing so, he pointed the ridiculously large broadsword he was holding at me.
"What the hell, didn't I tell you to come out and hand everything over!? Just lying there like a lazy..."
It was before his shouting could even finish.
I lightly flicked the hilt, drew my sword, and just slightly sliced his throat.
The man stopped his raised arm, fumbled at his neck, and collapsed.
Did he have some sense of camaraderie?
The bearded man came running toward the fallen man, but after seeing me holding the sword,
"You bastard!"
he screamed and charged right at me.
I put strength into my feet planted on the ground, twisted my posture, and thrust my sword out long.
At the same time, the bearded man's face was pierced as if it were bursting open.
Then the remaining one turned his back and started to run away.
I was not a Protector of the Demonic Cult, but the good-natured Sect Leader of the Changun Sect, so I didn't feel the need to chase him down and kill him.
I slowly pulled the blade out and swung it once at the ground to shake off the blood.
"What are you doing, old man? It's not your first time seeing this, let's get going."
"...Ah, right."
Half a day must have passed.
The wagon arrived in Nanjing, where the Academy is located.
Luckily, without running into a single person.
Ah, bandits aren't people anyway.