The Embroidered Uniform Guard
The way it coiled snugly into my palm felt like reclaiming something I had forgotten for a long, long time.
"...You. What is your name?"
I answered the Blood-Blood Asura's question briefly.
"Does that matter?"
"I suppose not. Still, there are times when things can be settled peaceably, with words."
I shook my head.
"From the moment you pointed your sword at me, your death was already sealed. There is only one way to change that."
"One way?"
"Fall to your knees and beg for your life. Do that, and I might stop at taking only one of your arms."
"...Allow me just one word, then."
He meant to leave his dying wish, and courtesy demanded I hear him out.
"Judging by your face, your life from childhood onward cannot have been an easy one. Your mastery of the martial arts looks to be at the Five Dragons and Phoenix realm at least — a pity to waste such a life in a place like this. I want nothing else from you. Only the Cloud Dragon Sword. Put it in my hands, and I will walk away as though nothing ever happened, and you may go on your way as well. True, it was mine to begin with, but I hold two hundred gold taels at present. I will give those to you as well."
Now that he had gone that far, my curiosity was piqued.
"Why is this sword yours? It's a Kunlun sword, isn't it?"
"Because I am a descendant of Kunlun."
I paused for a moment.
"A descendant of Kunlun?"
"Jeok Mu-je, the Founding Ancestor of the Kunlun Sect, had five disciples in all. One of them was my ancestor, Kang Jeok-shin. As the bearer of his bloodline, I carry on the Kunlun lineage."
Slowly, he lowered his sword.
"That sword belongs to me, the one who carries the Kunlun line. It has been passed down through my family for generations, and those wretched vermin of Cheonrim stole it. I alone am fit to be its master."
I regarded the Blood-Blood Asura in silence.
Kunlun.
Anywhere else, I might have turned a blind eye — but that sect, I could not. The great majority of the martial arts I used were arts of Kunlun.
The footwork and the grapple. Even the sword arts and the spear arts, though I had never once used them since my regression.
The five martial arts I had 'directly learned' from my Master — that count was correct.
But those five did not include the secret manuals my Master had simply handed over, telling me to work through them on my own.
And every one of those manuals had been an art of Kunlun.
So it was true.
My Master was a descendant of Kunlun.
Not merely some elder's bloodline, either — he was of the direct bloodline of Jeok Mu-je, the Founding Ancestor who had built the sect itself.
I asked quietly.
"How much do you know?"
"What do you mean?"
"How much do you know of Kunlun's martial arts?"
"...I'd rather not say. Hand over the sword."
"'Only I, who carry the Kunlun line, can be this sword's master'? That claim of yours is wrong."
"What did you say?"
I did not answer with words.
I kicked off the ground. In an instant my body closed the distance to the Blood-Blood Asura. He swung his sword in a slash.
Heavenly Steed Divine Steps.
I drove my foot into the earth, slipped past his blade, and seized his blind side. His eyes flew wide open.
I brought the Cloud Dragon Sword down from above.
Like petals falling — the graceful, uncanny motion of the blade sent him scrambling backward, swinging his sword in a panicked flurry.
"You... you—!"
It was the Falling Flower Sword, one of Kunlun's sword arts. His voice shook violently as he recognized it, but I paid it no mind.
I surged forward, blade cutting the air.
Cloud Dragon Thirteen Swords.
Like a dragon stretching itself across the heavens, the strike fell upon thirteen guards at once — and once more he retreated in a rush.
I changed the sword's angle and swept it wide, a great horizontal arc.
Supreme Clarity Dragon Form Sword.
All the years I had lived, and the countless battlefields I had survived — a technique meant to pour every last piece of that into the form of a dragon springing forth. Naturally, it demanded an enormous reserve of internal energy to do so.
What I could channel at this moment was limited.
Not a dragon — a shape far too faint, more a lizard sketched in mist. But even that much was a formidable threat. The Blood-Blood Asura's desperately raised guard was knocked clean away, so hard he nearly lost his grip on the blade entirely.
I drew back the Cloud Dragon Sword. Strength gathered in my hand. My eyes sharpened.
Light began to frost along the blade. Mere sword qi, but light was light.
Those streaks of light split apart as they came down.
Light-Splitting Sword.
The Blood-Blood Asura, his face gone white with shock, retreated a long distance backward.
"W-wait a moment—!"
He looked like he had plenty left to say, but I saw no need to ask. Strength coiled in my legs.
The moment I stepped into the Heavenly Steed Divine Steps, I shoved hard against the ground.
Flying Dragon Chasing Lightning.
Closing the distance in a flash of light, I stretched out my left hand and seized him by the chest, dead center.
Cloud Dragon Grapple.
It flowed as naturally as breathing.
The Blood-Blood Asura spun once through the empty air and came down head-first, striking the earth.
Before he even landed, the Cloud Dragon Sword — which I had reversed my grip on somewhere in the motion — was resting against his throat.
The Blood-Blood Asura said nothing at all.
He simply lay there blankly, as though he could not process the situation itself.
His violently trembling eyes turned toward me.
"You... no. Who are you...? Are you a descendant of Kunlun...?"
"I am not a descendant."
"...How could you not be, knowing that much of Kunlun's martial arts?"
"Does it matter?"
I pressed down on the blade in silence. And then the Blood-Blood Asura's reaction startled me.
Thick, heavy tears came streaming down from his eyes.
"...Kunlun... Kunlun lives... it still lives..."
Haah.
"...I am a demonic head. A mere demonic head has no right to call himself an heir of Kunlun... so kill me. If you do not end me now, Kunlun's name will be tarnished... Come, kill me."
And even as he said it, the Blood-Blood Asura wore a smile that looked almost satisfied.
It wasn't anything new, but the murim truly was full of people.
Yet among them, those who called themselves martial artists were, in the end, all mad about something, one way or another.
Some were mad for the martial arts. Some were mad for women. Some were drunk on power.
The Blood-Blood Asura was clearly much the same.
The tension drained out of me.
I sheathed the sword where it was.
The Blood-Blood Asura stared at me as if he could not understand, then blurted out,
"Why will you not kill me?"
"The mood has passed. Go."
I had been surprised many times today.
But watching this man seize my sleeve with both hands as I turned to leave — this, I simply could not help.
"No! You must kill me before you go!"
What is wrong with this guy.
"I am known as a demonic head. No — as a demon. If the world learned that this man bearing the title of Blood-Blood Asura was in truth an heir of Kunlun, then Kunlun's name would be stained forever! So take my life here, and carry away the glory of having killed me! I beg you!"
I'd been around the murim a fair while myself, but I had never met anyone like this.
I stared at the man pleading so desperately to be put to death, then let out a long sigh. He took it the wrong way entirely.
Scrambling back on his knees, he tore open the front of his own chest with both hands.
With that bizarre face — blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he grinned — he spoke.
"Kill me. I will take it as an honor."
I was dumbfounded.
"Blood-Blood Asura."
"Yes!"
"What is your name?"
"Kang So-eo!"
"Kang So-eo. Fine, I understand how you feel — but demon or demon head, does any of that actually matter?"
"...How could it not matter? The great Kunlun was the sect above all sects, a power that once ruled the world under heaven, revered by every martial artist alive. If its heir comes to be known as a demon, then the glory of that age will fade as well — that much is certain."
I shook my head.
"And why is it your place to decide that?"
"...Excuse me?"
"You don't want Kunlun's glory to fade? Then the answer is simple — grow strong yourself."
"..."
"Become a master who commands the world, and cut down every last one of the people who made you into a demon. That alone will raise Kunlun's name higher than it has ever been."
"...Surely that cannot be so easily—"
"It's not all that difficult, either."
"..."
"I haven't asked the most important question yet. Do you consider yourself a demon?"
"Absolutely not. I have never practiced demonic arts. I have learned only the martial arts of Kunlun, and nothing else."
"Then why did the world come to call you one?"
"...The Cho family of Yangdeok Commandery once came to me for aid. It was a factional struggle tangled up with several neighboring families — but Jo Yun-hyang, a daughter of the Cho household, laid a trap and annihilated three families of Yangdeok outright."
"Go on."
"Yes. I was named as the hand behind it. So I went straight to the Cho family, the ones who had pinned it on me, and demanded answers. Why had they done it. But the answer I wanted never came, and their warriors came at me to kill me instead. And so—"
"You annihilated them."
"...Yes."
"So in the end, four families were wiped out."
"...I destroyed only one, but that is how it turned out, yes."
That much would have been enough to earn the name of demon, or demonic head. That was simply what the murim was. An outsider with no allegiance to their families, stirring up trouble and wandering the world alone? He was either enemy or ally — nothing else. That was how this world turned. And later, if he happened to become an ally, the whole affair would be smoothed over with 'it was all a misunderstanding from the start,' and the false charge of demonic head would fall away. That was the sort of place it was.
Of course I didn't believe every word he said — but it was at least plausible.
I slowly tapped the planes of my face.
The muscles and bone twisted and shifted, and before long I could return to my true face.
"...Light seems to shine from your countenance."
I asked quietly.
"This face — I hear it's become rather well known in the murim lately. You don't happen to know who it belongs to?"
"...Could you be the Handsome Scholar?"
"The Handsome Scholar?"
"Among the late-blooming talents of the Murim Society in the kingdom of Yeon, there is said to be a man bearing the title of Handsome Scholar. They say his looks are as if he had descended from the heavens... and the man before me now is just as they describe."
I looked down at Kang So-eo and said it plainly.
"My name is Yi Do."
"...Even your name shines with l— huh...? Yi... Yi Do?"
"So you do know it."
"...The man who struck the Killing Curtain... who turned Jangryeong Commandery into a scorched field... that Yi Do...?"
"Yes."
"...They say you even killed the Governor. But surely that was a false charge, yes?"
"It was no false charge."
Kang So-eo's mouth fell open.
"Two Hundred-Household Posts were dispatched, though... surely you were framed—"
"I was not framed."
I squatted down where I was.
"They raised a hand against me. So I killed them. I killed my own brothers, killed my own father, killed the Governor, and annihilated the three Jang clans and the Hyuk clan."
"...I am certain you had reasons for all of it..."
There is no grave without an excuse, and every action has its reasons — but I had no desire to make the world accept any of them.
If an affair began as a misunderstanding and someone else, refusing to look into it properly, went on to create a fresh problem — then the fault was not mine, but theirs. And if, in that case, they pointed a sword at me, killing them was my freedom.
"Listen carefully. In this murim, the 'line' — the boundary of what is right — is not drawn by others. It is drawn by oneself."
"..."
"Let them say you crossed it. If you yourself know you did not, then why drive yourself to the brink like this?"
"But—"
"Carrying the Kunlun line does not oblige you to keep some absolute 'line' set down by the world. You may not know this, but not a single one of the people ruling the murim today has clean hands. Did they, then, hold their own lives as cheaply as you hold yours? No. They cling to existence with everything they have. The moment someone walks a different path, they brand him a demonic head, bury him under false charges, strip him of anywhere to stand in the murim — and then hunt him down. That is the murim."
"..."
"Forge your own destiny. Whether it revives the Kunlun line or not — don't go throwing your life away on such things. That is what I'm telling you."
"...You have no intention of reviving Kunlun yourself, then?"
I answered without a flicker of hesitation.
"None."
"..."
"Now, if there's nothing more you need of me — good. I spared a life today; see that it's worth something."
I turned to leave.
But I could not take a single step before I was forced to a stop.
Just as before, Kang So-eo had seized my right leg with both arms. I turned my head, my face creased with irritation.
Kang So-eo
spoke to me.
"Let me serve you."
"No."
"Then give me some task — any task at all. You spared my life; as an heir of Kunlun, must I not repay the debt?"
Hm.
I studied the man for a moment.
"You said earlier — two Hundred-Household Posts?"
"Yes. Two hundred imperial guards are hunting you even now."
The military system of the Kingdom of Jeok was simple.
It was organized into units called Guards and Posts. A Hundred-Household Post held one hundred men; ten of those formed a Thousand-Household Post; and five Thousand-Household Posts made up a single Guard.
By current count, the Kingdom of Jeok commanded five hundred thousand soldiers in all.
In other words, one hundred Guards existed.
And of those, twenty were the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the protectors of the royal house.
"Do you know who's in command?"
"Shin Gong-baek, a Probationary Hundred-Household Chief — a master of the Three Flowers Plucking the Summit realm, promoted from Chief Banner not long ago, or so I hear."
Not every guard called Embroidered Uniform Guard was truly one.
Among them, there was an elite core.
The men holding the posts of Chief Banner, Probationary Hundred-Household Chief, Thousand-Household Chief, and Pacification Commissioner — those were the real Embroidered Uniform Guard.
And yet they hadn't dispatched even a Thousand-Household Chief or a Pacification Commissioner. Just one Probationary Hundred-Household Chief, and two hundred common soldiers wearing nothing but an Embroidered Uniform Guard name-plaque?
It soured my mood, frankly.
"...Are you quite all right?"
"I'm fine. More to the point — you know a great deal, more than I expected."
"I've kept my ears open, in my way... You're quite famous in the murim, you know. Famous enough that it would be stranger if I didn't."
Well, I hadn't known. A great deal had been happening, after all.
"You said you wanted me to give you a task?"
"Yes."
"Fine. As it happens, something's just come up that only you can do."
I had absolutely no intention of carrying a hanger-on around with me.
Embroidered Uniform Guard or whatever else they called themselves.
Leaving the men who had come to kill me untouched was a contradiction in terms.
I laid out several instructions for Kang So-eo.
When he had heard all of it, Kang So-eo went pale with shock.
"...You intend... to kill every last one of the imperial guards?"
It was such an obvious question that it hardly deserved a spoken answer.
I gave Kang So-eo's shoulder a pat with my hand.
"What I'm asking of you is very important. Can you do it?"
"...Of course. I will carry it out without fail."
"Good."