The Heir of Kunlun
In truth, I hadn't held out much hope.
As far as I knew, the time I met my master was still roughly two months away. I had wandered the mountains and stumbled upon him by chance, and that chance meeting was where our bond began.
According to what I knew, my master had left exactly eight safehouses scattered across the Murim. If he wasn't here, the odds were high that he was at another.
"How disorienting."
I lifted my head at Cheon Yeo-bi's words.
"To think he would take on a disciple."
I stayed silent for a moment.
"...I would love to speak with you further, but alas, time does not permit it."
"You're off to maintain the safehouses?"
Cheon Yeo-bi blinked. Then he burst into an awkward laugh.
"...Your mastery of his martial arts was enough to put my doubts to rest — though I confess they were not entirely put to rest. But if you know of even 'that'... then there is no further point in doubting. Yes, you are right. I am off to see to the safehouses."
There were not many in the Murim who had earned my master's trust. Including the man before me, perhaps four at most.
"By the way, your appearance is quite... distinctive."
I had completely forgotten that I was still wearing the face I'd altered with the art of Transmuted Features.
"Should you ever require my aid, simply give my name at the Heaven Pavilion and file a Heaven-tier request. I will bear the full cost, so have no worry on that account."
I shook my head. Slowly, I ran my fingers over my face, and the altered features melted back into my own. Cheon Yeo-bi, who had been staring at me in silence, recoiled in shock.
"........I have seen that face before. In a portrait of your features."
"Do you know what I did as well?"
"...Of course I do. Are you not the man behind the Jangryeong Commandery massacre that has had the entire Murim in an uproar of late? I hear you made an enemy of the Imperial Court... The pursuit squads I can deal with on my own authority. As for the Golden Heaven Divine Sword — he is certainly still hunting you. If you only say the word, I will dig a trap and bury him in it."
His loyalty was staggering. The offer was tempting, but I let it pass.
Cheon Yeo-bi was not my man. He was my master's. How could I presume to wield my master's people without ever having met my master myself?
That would be a discourtesy unbecoming of a disciple. Better to have pressed a random passing martial artist into service than to do such a thing.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but it ends here. This is a debt I incurred myself, a matter that began because of me. The ending must belong to me alone."
"...Truly... you are his disciple."
"In any case, there is something else I would ask of you."
"Ask anything you wish."
"If you happen to meet my master, could you deliver a message for me?"
"Of course. What shall I tell him?"
"Tell him this: 'The bond has begun anew, running backward through time. I will come to see you soon.'"
"Understood. It will be done exactly as you say."
Cheon Yeo-bi assumed a fist-and-palm salute and turned to go. I called after him, just once.
"Cheon Yeo-bi."
"Yes?"
"If you ever find yourself entangled with the Yin-Yang Divine Gate, avoid it. The odds are high that it is a trap."
"...The Yin-Yang Divine Gate... you say?"
"Believe me or don't — that is entirely your freedom. But do not go. You will regret it."
"...Thank you. Then I will keep my distance from the Yin-Yang Divine Gate."
"Good."
"I will take my leave."
And so Cheon Yeo-bi descended the mountain.
I let out a long breath. They say every matter has its proper season — a saying I had repeated to myself countless times, and this was no exception.
Apparently, the time to meet my master had not yet come.
I assumed a moment of breathing cultivation, then made my way down the mountain.
I had come to Wi County for two reasons. One was to find my master. The other was to spend money. The first had not come to pass — but the second was another matter entirely.
Once off the mountain, I headed straight for the port.
As I scanned the harbor, my gaze snagged on one spot.
An old man sitting behind a peddler's mat. At a glance he looked like any commoner, but his posture — and indeed the very air about him — was impeccably refined. Not a martial artist of some earth-shattering height, but certainly one who had reached around the peak of the Perfected Realm.
I approached him. The old man raised his head and studied me.
"If you're buying, buy. If not, move along."
I looked over the mat. A sword and an axe that looked like half-finished work from some nearby smithy, an armor breastplate riddled with holes, a spear snapped clean in half.
Anyone who paid money for that junk was a lunatic.
"I'd like to buy something proper."
"There's nothing proper here. Nothing proper at all."
"Not this trash — the good merchandise. The smuggled goods."
The old man's eyes sharpened.
"The day the Forest of Heaven was due to send its man is tomorrow, no?"
"I'm not from the Forest of Heaven."
"...What? You were a real customer? Well, I'll be. Where did you hear about it?"
"A good place."
"..."
"I'll pay handsomely."
"...Well, I'll need to see it with my own eyes first."
Without a word, I drew a pouch from my coat. Hundreds of taels of gold glinted brilliantly. The old man broke into a broad grin.
"Hahaha. So you were a genuine customer after all. Very well. Follow me."
I followed the old man in silence.
The Forest of Heaven, as the old man and I had each mentioned, was the name of an organization built from a web of informants and covert cells.
And what did they do, exactly? They ran black markets.
There were more than a few dozen black markets operating across the entire Murim at present, and of those, roughly ten were run by this Forest of Heaven.
I didn't know this faction in great detail myself. But I did know that for a black market to function, there naturally had to be somewhere supplying its goods.
I had come here to intercept the merchandise bound for a black market the Forest of Heaven was about to open.
"Well, now... you may not have been sent by the Forest of Heaven directly, but knowing my identity makes you something of a benefactor, I suppose. Hey there. You with the ugly face."
At first I didn't realize who he was addressing.
"Yes, you. Why are you pretending not to hear me?"
Oh. It was me.
"First, understand this. I already drew up and sent ahead the list of goods I was supposed to hand over to the Forest of Heaven. If several items go missing from it, they will hardly sit still and do nothing. So—"
"You've got a proposition — pay you more?"
"Precisely. I won't pry into who you are or anything of the sort. All you need to do is pay me a proper share. Nothing complicated about it. That suits you, doesn't it?"
"Fine."
With that, the old man handed me a single sheet of paper. Written upon it was the list of goods from this shipment that were due to pass into the Forest of Heaven's hands.
I read it from top to bottom. And then—
I stopped at one entry. There was nothing to deliberate over.
"This one."
"...The Five-Hundred-Year Ginseng? Of all things, you pick the most expensive one. Can you see the price written there?"
"I can."
"Two thousand taels of gold. Convert that to silver and you're looking at roughly forty thousand. And as I said before, that two thousand is the sum the Forest of Heaven agreed to pay. I'd have to charge you more than that... Are you sure you haven't picked something far beyond your means? From the look of that pouch, you had maybe two hundred gold at best."
I spoke without ceremony.
"If you stand at the northern entrance to Wi County and face northeast, you'll find five trees. Dig beneath the one bearing a sword gash in its trunk. There's money inside."
"...If that's a lie, things could get rather ugly."
"Then send men to check."
"...Fine."
The old man beckoned toward the rear, and three men came forward — all bone-forging cultivators of the early Qi Condensation Realms. For a Perfected Realm old man, that was a formidable set of subordinates, but they listened to his orders in full, paid their respects politely, and departed.
"It won't take long. Wait a moment."
I nodded.
Roughly the time it takes to burn an incense stick passed before the three men returned carrying an enormous chest. The old man peered inside and went pale with shock.
"....What in the... Did you rob the Imperial Palace?"
The remark was only fair.
The chest held silver alone worth roughly sixty thousand taels, and around four hundred in gold. Convert it all and you had some thirty-four hundred taels of gold.
An astronomical sum.
I had emptied out what remained of the Yi Clan's treasury along with the funds of the Hyuk-li Clan. From the very start, I had intended to come here, to Wi County. No matter how many carriages I used, a load that heavy could not be carried far.
I had needed somewhere close.
I said flatly,
"That should more than cover the Five-Hundred-Year Ginseng. May I take it now?"
The flustered old man said,
"...Look here. No matter how large a premium you offer, handing over this much for a single root of ginseng? Either you have no greed at all, or your pockets run deeper than the sea."
"Both."
"...Honestly, I'm a merchant, but this won't do. Gains this large invite calamity — that's simply how the world works."
"So?"
"So? What do you mean, so? Then I'll just have to throw in more, won't I."
The old man began rummaging through the corner of the warehouse. Then he shot me a sidelong glance.
"What weapon do you favor? Sword? Spear? Axe? Blade? Bare fists?"
"I don't particularly discriminate, but I use fists and sword."
"...Fists and sword, hm. Hmm."
The old man muttered to himself for a moment, then headed to the warehouse across the way and returned to hurl at me a long object wrapped in cloth. I caught it out of the air and looked inside.
For the first time in a long while—
I was genuinely astonished.
...What is this doing here?
From hilt to tip, it measured roughly five feet. The hilt was unremarkable, but the blade was anything but. On one face, a dragon soared into the heavens; on the other, a dragon plunged down into the earth.
I knew this sword's name.
"The Cloud Dragon Sword."
The old man's eyes went wide once more.
"...You have remarkably discerning eyes. Correct. That is the very sword said to have been wielded by the Grand Elder of the Great Kunlun Sect, back before it fell."
Could coincidence truly pile upon coincidence like this?
At this point, one had to call it fate.
As I remembered it, this Cloud Dragon Sword was the blade used by Bang Ju-hon, the Eight Immortals Sword, an elder of the Emperor Sword Sect. I'd heard he wrested it from a demon by killing the man outright... apparently, all of that had yet to unfold. The events leading to it simply hadn't happened yet.
By accident, it seemed I was about to steal it out from under him.
I had no intention of declining.
The Cloud Dragon Sword was a famed blade.
"That should more or less square the price. What do you say?"
"I never dreamed I'd see this sword in a place like this, but — very well."
The old man handed me another bundle. I checked inside. A root glowing with a faint crimson light came into view.
The Five-Hundred-Year Ginseng, without question.
"And with that, our business is concluded."
I nodded and turned away. As I opened the warehouse door and stepped out, the old man called after me.
"Safe travels, you ugly fellow."
I snorted a laugh — and in that instant, I froze in place.
Behind me, the old man froze as well.
He had every reason to.
Before me, at a distance of some ten paces, stood a masked man.
Like me, he wore a black gat upon his head, but his clothing was stranger still — a black robe slashed and torn everywhere, stained here and there with crimson blood.
Dried blood, and blood not yet dry.
He had unmistakably butchered more than ten men, killing them in at least two separate waves.
His two eyes fixed upon the Cloud Dragon Sword gripped in my hand.
"...Hand it over. That sword."
I didn't bother to answer. Behind me, the old man muttered under his breath.
"...The Blood-Blood Asura... that cursed wretch... he followed it all the way here?"
Only then did the memory surface.
The Blood-Blood Asura. The demon-headed swordsman whom Bang Ju-hon, the Eight Immortals Sword of the Emperor Sword Sect, had hunted down and eventually beheaded.
The picture assembled itself.
The Blood-Blood Asura had originally raided Wi County and stolen the Cloud Dragon Sword, then wandered the Murim until Bang Ju-hon ran him to ground and took the blade from him.
So that explained it.
No wonder the rewards — far more than I had ever expected — kept landing in my hands.
I spoke to the old man.
"Didn't you say that gains too great invite calamity?"
"...I did, but—"
"Well, your words hold true. You've been spared your calamity today."
"...?"
"Just remember it that way."
I raised the Cloud Dragon Sword and showed it to the Asura.
"Do you covet it?"
"Covet? It is mine. Bring it here."
There were many people around.
Hm.
"Very well. Come and take it, then."
The instant the words left my mouth, I kicked off the ground.
Not forward — backward.
"You son of a—!"
The Blood-Blood Asura came pounding after me.
I ran on and on. It was when we had plunged deep into a stretch of forest, far from any human presence, that I finally stopped.
I looked around. No people. Not even beasts.
I drew the Cloud Dragon Sword and swept it back over my shoulder. The Asura, alarmed, drew his own blade and swung to meet it.
BOOOM—!!!
Scraping backward, I was driven a single step; the Asura, who had caught my blade, was driven two. Wincing, he flexed and curled his stinging fingers, then leveled his gaze straight at my face.
He spoke.
"...My, my. You're ugly as sin, aren't you."