The Emperor Sword Sect
The mood inside the Jang Clan estate was heavy with grief.
How could it not be? The news that the second son, Jang Un-ryong, and the clan head, Jang Mak-su, were both dead had just reached them.
How, in the name of all that was holy, had things come to this? Nothing about it made sense. Yi Do's strength was simply beyond what anyone had imagined. A man who had barely reached the Peak Sovereign Realm had slaughtered fully fifty members of the Dali Squad, the finest warriors of the Jang Clan, alone. It defied all reason. If killing could come that easily, then the realms of martial cultivation would be meaningless, and there would be no reason for a clan to spend fortunes recruiting strong warriors in the first place. It was that absurd.
Worse still, after butchering fifty men of the Dali Squad, that same Yi Do had gone on to kill the second son, Jang Un-ryong, and the clan head, Jang Mak-su—both of whom had stood at the Peak Sovereign Realm themselves. How was anyone supposed to wrap their head around that?
But what was done was done. All they could do now was prepare. There were two options on the table. The first was to run. Take the remaining servants and clan members and flee far from Jangryeong Commandery—perhaps they could survive that way. That was the option they had considered at first.
Then a second option had appeared.
Jang Tae-san, father of the clan head Jang Mak-su, had handed the position over to his son while still in his fifties—a young age for retirement—and had lived out his days in leisure ever since. Now the second son was gone, and so was the clan head. With the young heir, the eldest son, away at the Emperor Sword Sect, Jang Tae-san had no choice but to step forward and act as head of the Jang Clan once more.
At this very moment, staring at the man who stood before him, he let out a long breath of relief.
"Thank you... truly, thank you."
Was it coincidence, or fate? Either way, it felt like sheer good luck. Won Hu, first-generation disciple of the Emperor Sword Sect, had visited the Jang Clan estate barely two hours ago.
Jang Un-yeon was a man of extraordinary promise, even within the Emperor Sword Sect. He had already entered the Five Dragons Ascent stage and stood on the threshold of the Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak. Word had it he had begun unifying his upper and lower dantians into one—the kind of talent that could not help but draw attention. Some even called him the single most likely candidate to become one of the Ten Great Masters of the world.
And that wasn't all. Everything above was merely what was said outside the sect's walls. Within the Emperor Sword Sect itself, he was already being spoken of as the next Sect Leader. His character? There was no need to even ask. Look no further than why Won Hu was here right now. Jang Un-yeon, busy as he was with his training, had asked Won Hu to deliver a message. The destination hadn't even been Jangryeong Commandery, but on the way he had stopped by to pass along the news that his younger brother was doing well at the sect, along with a single request: if any trouble should arise, resolve it. Won Hu had agreed without a moment's hesitation.
And as fate would have it, this very incident had erupted. The head of the Jang Clan was dead. Jang Un-yeon's younger brother was dead. The clan's fighting force had been all but annihilated. The family stood on the brink of total destruction.
It had to be stopped. The dead could not be brought back, but the extermination could be prevented.
The retired patriarch clutched Won Hu's hand tightly in both of his own.
"Do not worry. I am a man of the Emperor Sword Sect, and Jang Un-yeon is a man of the Emperor Sword Sect as well. I will not allow this family to be destroyed. We stand with the Jang Clan."
"Even just hearing those words is a comfort, sir..."
Movement stirred outside. The door burst open, and a servant of the Jang Clan shrieked, his face drained white.
"The Y-Yi Clan warriors—they're coming!"
Won Hu's expression hardened into resolve. He gripped the sword at his waist and turned. Once he resolved this crisis, the trust of Jang Un-yeon—the most likely candidate for the next Sect Leader—would be his. All that remained was to soar.
He strode out with his head held high.
At the head of the column, Yi Do walked slowly forward.
"Retired Patriarch Jang Tae-san. I didn't expect you to still be in Jangryeong Commandery."
"...You... enough. Withdraw your warriors. Now."
"What are you talking about? The murim has its laws and its order. How could I simply turn back now?"
"So that's it, then. We settle this to the end? Do you truly believe you'll walk away unscathed from this?!"
"I most certainly do."
"Heh. Have you ever seen such a madman in your life? The authorities will dispatch officials. You've turned all of Jangryeong Commandery upside down—you can't possibly expect to escape punishment."
Yi Do let out a dismissive laugh, as if the very notion were beneath him.
"The Jang Clan started this. Why should the blame fall on us? They tried to swallow the entire Yi Clan alive. We had no choice."
"No. You did have a choice. Withdraw here and now, and we will not press the matter..."
"It isn't that simple."
"...Not that simple?"
"No, sir. You see—though you wouldn't know this—Jang Mak-su, head of the Jang Clan, murdered the lord of our Yi Clan. A lord honored and beloved by every warrior and every servant under our roof."
The words landed like a bolt from a clear sky.
"What—what nonsense is this?! Yi Se-geuk died in your own family's internal squabble, did he not!"
"What a preposterous thing to say. It's true that our clan's eldest son and Lady Sang poisoned him. But that poison was, in truth, nothing more than Sangongdu—the Power-Scattering Poison."
"...What?"
"An ordinary poison, nothing more, that merely disrupts one's internal energy. Our lord was devastated by the betrayal of the eldest son and Lady Sang, whom he had trusted with his whole heart, and collapsed into illness from the shock. And yet he was a man of such boundless mercy that he forgave them both—Lady Sang and the eldest son. It was my brother and I he refused to forgive. So we hunted those two vermin down and killed them. Then, the moment word came that the Sang Cloud Merchant Group was raising soldiers against us, we marched to crush them at once. And while the Yi Clan estate stood empty, the Jang Clan attacked it—and Jang Mak-su drove a blade through our lord's heart."
"...You... you'd twist the situation like that? Do you take the officials for fools? Do you honestly believe they'd swallow such a flimsy tale?!"
"Pardon me, Retired Patriarch."
"..."
"I understand it strains belief, but this is the truth. And I should have led with this—my apologies for being late. Jang Mak-su gifted me the entire Jang Clan, you see. And a man cannot come to collect a gift empty-handed, can he? So I've prepared a gift of my own. Yeom Gil-seong."
Yeom Gil-seong was a servant of the Yi Clan—the man assigned to clean Yi Do's quarters and bring him word of various happenings around the estate, one of the few servants Yi Do remembered from his past.
The man hurried forward from behind.
"Yes, young master."
"Set down what we prepared earlier. Right here."
"Yes, sir."
Yeom Gil-seong brought two sacks from the rear and dropped them on the ground. It was a familiar ritual by now. They had done the very same thing when the war with the Sang Cloud Merchant Group began. Perhaps they hadn't been tied properly, because the moment the sacks touched the ground, the cords came loose and their contents spilled out for all to see.
Rolling across the ground were the heads of Jang Mak-su and Jang Un-ryong.
"Ah... AAAAHH!!"
Jang Tae-san collapsed where he stood.
"It seems the gift pleases you. I had no idea it would move you to such wailing."
The reason Yi Do could afford such leisure was simple. Just as the Yi Clan estate had stood empty, the Jang Clan estate was nearly empty now as well. A handful of warriors remained in view, but their level was low. He was certain killing every last one of them would take less than half a moment.
Yi Do was about to begin when—
"Heh... how can a man of the martial world be this depraved?"
It was a man with long hair, dressed in white training robes. Mid-twenties, perhaps. Yi Do's gaze slid to him. When his eyes asked who are you, the man answered.
"Won Hu, first-generation disciple of the Emperor Sword Sect."
"And?"
"..."
"If you have no business with the Jang Clan, then get lost. Don't waste my time."
"...It was discourteous of me to interrupt your conversation, so I shall overlook that remark. Your name is Yi Do, I believe? Correct?"
"It is."
"And you... are the young head of the Yi Clan?"
Yi Do snorted with laughter.
"Why does a man who isn't even the young head speak as though he speaks for them? The young master standing right beside you—does he not exist? Why is he so quiet, hm?"
Yi Won said nothing. He had been devoured by Yi Do long ago. He had no thought of denying it, no thought of defying it. So he simply ignored the question.
And it seemed Yi Do found that attitude of his rather pleasing. He stepped forward with a smile.
"Skip the preamble. Get to the point."
"Very well. The Jang Clan has lost a great deal today. So let it end here."
"Why should it?"
"Did I not just say it? They have lost much. If you were truly a martial artist who understood righteousness and chivalry, you would stop here. Above all, the Emperor Sword Sect and the Jang Clan are closely bound—leaving this be would serve your interests as well."
Yi Do glanced back over his shoulder. It was quiet, but most of the eyes behind him were wavering. The Emperor Sword Sect. One of the Eight Great Sects of the murim—that name alone was enough to shake them.
He turned his gaze back to Won Hu.
"By your own reckoning, the Yi Clan has lost far more. And you ask us to simply withdraw? I never imagined the Emperor Sword Sect had fallen to such depths."
"...I beg your pardon?"
"The Jang Clan butchered the head of the Yi Clan. They seized our empty estate and killed our servants and warriors. And you want us to walk away? Would the Emperor Sword Sect walk away, were the situations reversed?"
"I'm afraid the Yi Clan is not the Emperor Sword Sect. How dare you compare yourself to one of the Eight Great Sects? Do you still not understand? Touch the Jang Clan, and you incur the wrath of the Emperor Sword Sect. And who is the young head of the Jang Clan? Jang Un-yeon—the most likely candidate for the next Sect Leader. He and his master, the Geum-cheon Shin-geom, the Golden Heaven Divine Sword, will come in person to bring your clan down. Can you bear that weight? Can you bear that wrath?"
"Bear it, you say... So if we withdraw now, does the Emperor Sword Sect's grudge simply vanish?"
Won Hu faltered, words caught in his throat.
Yi Do burst out laughing.
"Of course not. Whatever happens here, the debt between us—the gratitude and the grievance alike—will remain exactly as it is. And a debt like that is not the kind of thing to be settled by the empty words of a nobody like you. Besides."
Yi Do walked forward, step by measured step, until he stood right before Won Hu, looking down at him.
"If we couldn't bear the weight of a few insignificant vermin, we would never have started this at all."
"...Choose your words carefully. I could end your life right here, right now."
Won Hu's hand was already resting on the hilt at his waist. The Emperor Sword Sect was peerless with the blade. Their draw? Superb. Their cutting? What was there to say. Every first-generation disciple learned one of the sect's ultimate techniques: the Changgung Geukkwai Geombeop—the Vault of Heaven Swift-Extreme Sword Art. A technique of supreme speed, drawing and killing in a single instant.
Won Hu was confident that if he drew here, his blade would take Yi Do's head.
But Yi Do was thinking the very same thing.
"One warning, first and last. Get lost—if you don't want to watch the Emperor Sword Sect crumble along with them."
"...You truly are a shameless wretch. Very well. Killing you here and now would put my mind at ea—"
"You said that if we destroy the Jang Clan, Jang Un-yeon and the Golden Heaven Divine Sword will come. Then if I kill you, who comes next?"
The words caught in his throat.
"The Sword Emperor. Does that old man come himself?"
"...I warned you to watch your tongue. You have squandered every chance you were given."
Won Hu had already made up his mind. He drew his blade. To take Yi Do's head, he unleashed the Changgung Geukkwai Geombeop, one of the Emperor Sword Sect's ultimate techniques—
Or rather, he tried to.
CRACK—!
The onlookers couldn't even comprehend what had happened. But Won Hu knew. In the instant he had drawn and swung his blade, Yi Do's fist had moved. That fist had struck him square in the throat. His breath cut off with a choke. Even as he gagged, Yi Do's other hand closed around the wrist that held the drawn sword.
"By the way—does that old man still go around defiling young maidens these days?"
"Wh... khh... what are you—"
"That's enough."
Yi Do's lower dantian stirred. The pure qi that rose surged along his qi rings and poured into his middle dantian. In a heartbeat. Near-explosive energy flooded down into his fist. He drew his arm back—and thrust it forward.
KWAAAAAANG—!!
Won Hu's head exploded. Yi Do tossed the headless corpse aside like garbage, and every soul watching froze in horror.
Yi Do spoke.
"What are you all standing around for?"
The warriors of the Yi Clan came to their senses. Yi Do looked toward Jang Tae-san and gave the order.
"Kill every last one of them. Anyone who bears the Jang name—all of them."
The warriors of the Yi Clan charged at once. A fist right in front of you is always more terrifying than a blade far away. The threat of the Emperor Sword Sect? They didn't know it, didn't care.
Right now, Yi Do was the more fearsome thing.