The Shame of the Sambong Branch

It had been roughly four hours since I arrived at the Sambong Branch. I was waiting for the two branch members, yet far from showing themselves, not even a word of notice had come.

I rose from my seat. The thought of going to find them crossed my mind, but there was somewhere I wanted to stop at first — the Un Manor of Sambong-hyeon.

No matter how I turned it over, this affair — an entire branch nearly wiped out — was riddled with things that didn't add up.

I had met Cheonri Sintu before. I had even spoken with him. And once, he had said this:

There was no doubt that the branch he spoke of was the Sambong Branch.

Of course, Cheonri Sintu might have been lying. Perhaps he really had stolen the elixir and fled — but the odds of that were vanishingly slim.

Think about it. A thief who had retired some four years before this very moment suddenly develops an itch for theft and makes off with the Asura Elixir? And the time I had met Cheonri Sintu was roughly seventeen years from now — after the Asura Sword Sect had been destroyed and the Righteous-Demonic War had ended. There would have been no reason to lie at such a time.

I needed to see it for myself.

The massacre at the Sambong Branch had, admittedly, nothing to do with me. But at its root, this was a question of the Asura Sword Sect's authority. If the sect could not even protect its own people, what influence could it possibly wield here in Sambong-hyeon? The branch would become an empty shell, and rather than clasp hands with the Asura Sword Sect, more and more would choose to hold hands with the Pacheon Fist Sect instead.

Seen on a grander scale, it could poison the morale of every martial artist sworn to the sect itself. Who in their right mind would trust and follow an organization like that?

Now that I had entered the Asura Sword Sect, such a thing could not be allowed to happen.

I lifted my head. A hall came into view, a plaque above its entrance reading Un Manor. But the building was in sorry shape — listing slightly to one side, its surfaces caked with grime from years of neglect.

I pushed the door open without a word. It swung wide with a lazy creak. No gatekeeper stood watch. The place was wide open.

I crossed the broad courtyard before a passing servant finally noticed me.

"Wh-who goes there?"

"Is the Clan Head inside?"

The servant flinched violently at my words. "The Clan Head? Right now... that might be... a little difficult..."

"Why?"

"...He's had rather a lot to drink. He still hasn't woken."

"And the Young Clan Head?"

"He's in training at the moment."

"Is that so."

I considered for a moment. Hmm. "Where is the Clan Head's chamber?"

"...And who might you be, that you come looking for both our Clan Head and Young Clan Head?"

"I've come from the Asura Sword Sect."

The servant's eyes went wide. It was surprise, yes — but beneath it, I glimpsed a flicker of hostility.

"...Now that I think of it, our Clan Head and Young Clan Head are not in at the moment."

The corners of my mouth twitched. "You said just now that they were."

"...I must have misspoken. They are not here."

I studied the servant for a moment, and the picture assembled itself. Roughly speaking, I could guess why he was acting this way.

I walked forward slowly and stopped in front of him; he stumbled back a step. "You clearly hold no love for the Asura Sword Sect, judging by that look. Am I right?"

"...Do you truly need to ask?"

I laughed. I have always liked people with loyalty in them. Enemy or ally, it makes no difference.

"I've just been appointed to the Sambong Branch, and there's a great deal I don't know. Will you tell me?"

"..."

"But first, take me to the Clan Head's chamber. You can explain on the way."

I fixed the servant with both eyes. "What are you doing? Lead the way."

"...Very well. Follow me."

And so I entered the Clan Head's chamber of the Un Manor together with the servant. There lay the head of the Un Clan, sprawled dead drunk across his bed, snoring to the rafters. The stale reek of wine hung thick in the room, and tear stains were dried upon his cheeks.

I dropped heavily into a chair inside the chamber and gestured to the servant still standing. Sit. Across from me.

The servant sat.

"Speak."

"...About what...?"

"Why the Un Manor is so desolate. And why it shows such enmity toward the Asura Sword Sect."

"..."

"No harm will come to you for telling me. I swear it on my name."

At those words, the seated servant began to weep. Tears long held back, by the look of them.

I waited.

Slowly, the servant began to speak.

The story was a simple one.

Un Mi-rang, the previous Branch Master of the Sambong Branch, had been the eldest daughter of this very Un Manor. Gifted with rare talent for the martial arts, she had entered the Asura Sword Sect, served as a branch member of the Jiangnan Branch in the Jiangnan Commandery of Jeok Country's north, and as her talent blossomed, earned the epithet Jiangnan Sword Phoenix before being appointed Branch Master here in Sambong-hyeon.

She had been scrupulously fair. Even though the Un Manor was her own family's house, she showed it no favoritism, treating every clan in the county alike. That was a matter of her own reputation, true — but the Un Manor itself had also begged her, please, to grant them no special treatment.

That is what family ought to be. Not barring each other's roads forward, but walking side by side by whatever means each could manage. If some clans do nothing but fight and claw at one another, then there are bound to be others — like the Un Manor — that strive to cooperate and never become an obstacle in each other's path.

And then Un Mi-rang died.

Not a clean death, either. She had been violated and murdered — by fifteen grown men.

And in the wake of it, what did the Asura Sword Sect do? A Branch Master who had sworn loyalty to the sect and handled every duty entrusted to her without fail had been slaughtered in the most horrific way imaginable — and not a single soul came forward to speak of vengeance.

It was reason enough for the Un Manor to turn on its heels entirely.

Un Seok-mun, the Clan Head, had drowned himself in wine ever since that day, weeping through every night. Un Do-hyeon, the second child and Young Clan Head, trained without pause, day after day — to grow strong enough to take that vengeance himself.

Had it ended there, I might have let it be understood.

But there was something worse.

The Un Manor was wealthy. Its fortunes had declined, true — but as the saying goes, it takes three generations for a rich family to go broke, and the estate remained substantial.

The two branch members who had served under Un Mi-rang now ran wild through Sambong-hyeon like rabid dogs — borrowing the Un Manor's money, using the Un Clan's head as their guarantor, and drinking themselves blind on his credit. Not once or twice. Fifteen times in the past month alone, at minimum.

A family already drowning, plundered from above instead of comforted, its wealth scraped away bit by bit — was this any way for men to behave?

It was more than enough reason for even a servant of the Un Manor to hate the Asura Sword Sect.

When the tale was finished, Yi Do sent the servant out with a word not to worry. Then he sat alone in silence, waiting.

What needed to be done from here? It was already all but decided. He had to take Sambong-hyeon firmly in hand. Sweeping out the vermin would simply be part of that work.

About two hours had passed when the door burst open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and a man of hard, stern features stormed in, his face twisted with fury.

"...What do you think you're doing!"

Yi Do regarded him calmly. The description matched what the servant had told him. "Un Do-hyeon. Young Clan Head of the Un Manor?"

"...Yes. That's me. But what shame does the Asura Sword Sect have left, to come here? And this is the Clan Head's chamber. How dare you—"

A smile curled at the corner of Yi Do's mouth. Rage is the single most important ingredient in making a man strong.

"Try to block it."

"...What?"

He did not say it twice. Yi Do snapped his finger — a technique of condensing qi and firing it out, commonly called the Finger-Bolt Divine Shot, or simply a finger-bolt.

Un Do-hyeon's eyes went wide. In a flash he drew the sword at his hip and cut downward.

Shrrk—

The flying finger-bolt split clean in two.

"Not bad."

"...What is this..."

"Your realm is the Five Dragons Ascension, is it?"

"...It is, but..."

"Good. You pass."

"Excuse me?"

He couldn't make heads or tails of it. "Come to the Asura Sword Sect. I will take you in as a branch member."

"...Me? Into the Asura Sword Sect? No. I'd rather die."

Yi Do understood the feeling perfectly. "Don't judge in haste. Watch with your own two eyes what is about to unfold — then decide."

Yi Do rose from his seat. "You're awake, I see. Get up already."

It was clear to whom the words were spoken. His gaze went to the bed.

Un Seok-mun stirred, his face still blank with sleep. "I heard the gist of it. You seem to know where those branch members are. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You'll guide me there."

"Y... yes..."

Even through his drunken haze, Un Seok-mun could make out the emblem emblazoned across Yi Do's back — a great chariot wreathed in flames burning to the east, west, south, and north. The mark of the Asura Sword Sect. And that mark spoke of rank.

An all-white chariot meant an ordinary disciple. A white chariot with crimson flames meant a Branch Master. And across Yi Do's back, the white chariot's four flames burned vivid, unmistakable red.

Yi Do, the Cruel Fiend Demon — the newest Branch Master of the Asura Sword Sect.

The drunkenness evaporated in an instant. Un Seok-mun's mind snapped into focus and he shot to his feet.

"Do you need time to prepare?"

At Yi Do's question, Un Seok-mun shook his head. "Good. By the way — what is that?"

Yi Do's gaze had gone to the long rod standing beside the chamber wall.

"...A hidden weapon. When the grip is pressed, blades spring out along its length... It is the weapon I use."

"Bring it. Follow me."

"...Yes. Understood."

"Go on ahead. I'll be out shortly."

Yi Do strode from the room, leaving father and son alone. The two men of the Un Manor looked at each other.

"...Let's follow him for now, Father."

"Yes... let's go."

They couldn't fathom what was happening, but follow they must. The two men roughly straightened their clothes and stepped outside.

"I'll say it again — I'm looking for the two branch members of the Asura Sword Sect. Do you know where they are?"

Un Seok-mun nodded.

How could he not know? Only yesterday he had been drinking with them, paying for their wine out of his own purse. He knew exactly where they lodged and where they liked to drown their sorrows.

"Lead the way."

"...Yes."

Before Yi Do became Branch Master, the Sambong Branch had consisted of exactly two members. Their names were Wang Mu-tan and Jin Geon. Their realms were the Five Dragons Ascension and the Twin Radiance Manifestation respectively — hardly towering heights of cultivation, but hardly trivial either.

And yet these two now reigned over Sambong-hyeon like kings. It could hardly be otherwise. However far the Asura Sword Sect's influence might stretch from its heartland, a sect was still a sect. So long as these two wore its name, the ordinary schools and clans of the region could not afford to slight them.

It was much the same logic behind Yi Do killing Won Hu at the estate of the Three Great Jang Clans. Jang Tae-san, the retired patriarch of the Jang Clan, had banked on the Imperial Sword Sect's name. Because Won Hu was a first-generation disciple — and more than that, a man whose backing ran deep — Jang Tae-san had assumed Yi Do would back down. He had not.

It was the same thing. Yi Do had simply done something outside the bounds of anyone's imagination, and the people here had bent accordingly.

"But Brother ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Wang, this new Branch Master they're talking about — what manner of man is he?"

"Let's see... from Jangryeong Commandery, wasn't it? They say he's a devil who wrought a massacre out in that backwater."

"A devil? Hah... and they make a man like that a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Branch Master?"

"The Great Elder went in person to bring him back, or so I heard."

"Ah... well then... I suppose there's nothing to be done."

No one in the murim was ignorant of Myo Man-li's fearsome name. Wang Mu-tan smirked darkly, kneading the courtesan nestled in his arm. "Anyway, he set out quite a while ago, but it'll take him time yet to arrive. Let's enjoy ourselves just until tomorrow, then go out to meet him."

"Sounds fine to me."

Hehehehe.

The laughter never stopped. Music swelled, and the wine laid across the table vanished cup after cup without pause. Egging them on sat two men — men of the Cheonggang Sword Gate, one of the One Faction, One Sect, and Three Clans that dominated Sambong-hyeon, present for the sole purpose of footing the two branch members' drinking bills.

They had to stay in the Asura Sword Sect's good graces. Such was life. Curses churned endlessly in their stomachs, but what could they do? They were forcing their smiles and reaching to refill the emptied cups when—

"Tsk. What sort of man pours wine? Oi, you there. You — come pour."

Just as a courtesan who had been sitting quietly rose to fill their cups, Wang Mu-tan seized her and yanked her toward him. The cup tipped, spilling wine down his robes. A meaningful smile spread across his face. "Hehehehe. How dare a bitch like you spill wine on my body?"

"I'm terribly—"

"Ah-ah. Clean it at once."

The courtesan hurriedly reached for a cloth lying in a corner of the room — and froze at Wang Mu-tan's next words. "Did anyone tell you to use that? No hands, no cloth. Clean it with your mouth."

He was telling her to lick it off.

The courtesan clenched her teeth. It was humiliation itself — but what choice did she have? It was work she took money for, and these men belonged to the Asura Sword Sect.

She had no choice. She parted her lips and leaned in—

— and the door opened.

Three men. Aside from the one standing between them, the other two were faces everyone in the room knew all too well. Was it not the Clan Head and Young Clan Head of the Un Manor?

The man in the middle regarded Wang Mu-tan and Jin Geon with eyes cold as winter water. The two men's brows knitted.

"You son of a bitch! Who the hell do you think you're looking down on!"

The man gazed at the shouting Wang Mu-tan, then extended a hand toward the Un Clan's head beside him. Quick to read the room, Un Seok-mun laid the thick staff he carried into the man's palm.

KRA-KOOM. The man's hand closed around the staff like a vice.

What followed left everyone in the room struck speechless.

The man — without a word, without warning — simply swung the staff and smashed Wang Mu-tan's skull.

CRACK—!!

Wang Mu-tan burst through the wall in a spray of blood and flew out into the night. Jin Geon stared after him, mind blank, only belatedly lurching up from his seat—

— and a shadow fell across his face.

CRUNCH—!!

The staff ground his face into pulp.