The Day of the Torrential Rain
The rain began to fall.
Not a drizzle — a torrential downpour.
"Ahh... this weather... tsk."
Nobody liked the rain, and the men who led merchant caravans liked it least of all.
Traveling a mountain trail in the rain changed everything, from the very feel of the ground under one's feet. It was enough to wear on anyone's patience.
There was nothing to be done about it.
Yu Su-myeong, Chief Steward of the Jong Clan's merchant caravan, ordered his servants to rest before moving on. To the warriors, he spoke with courtesy: let us pause here a while.
No one objected.
They were just settling in to rest when it happened.
Thud. Thud.
Cutting through the drum of the rain, the sound of footsteps reached every ear.
Everyone turned at once.
A man was walking toward them through the rain.
In his right hand he carried a sword that gleamed brilliantly — an unusual blade, a dragon coiling upward on one face, and on the other, a dragon plunging down.
He was strikingly handsome. A body nearing six cheok in height, his clothes drenched and clinging to reveal every line of hard-earned muscle.
Anyone could see he was a warrior. A supremely conditioned one, at that.
Before a single soul could ask who he was,
the crest on the hem of his robe burned itself into every gaze.
A white cart.
And four crimson flames.
"...The Asura... Sword Sect?"
Lightning struck through their minds.
Only recently, a new Branch Master had been appointed to Sambong-hyeon.
He was a man infamous for his merciless hands, and even his epithet was anything but ordinary. The Cruel Demon Blade.
His name was Yi Do.
The man swept his hair back.
"Am I speaking with Yu Su-myeong, Chief Steward of the Jong Clan?"
"...I am. But for the new Branch Master of the Asura Sword Sect to push through a downpour like this... what brings you here?"
Yu Su-myeong's face had frozen, yet his tone was brazenly combative. He had little choice.
However formidable Yi Do might be, he had come alone.
The men gathered here were the Jong Clan's finest warriors — twenty from the Oryongbongseong realm, ten from the Yanggwangihyeon realm. And then there was—
"They say a mere horse-groom has become the Asura Sword Sect's Branch Master. What a spectacle."
The one who said this was a colossus of a man, a master of the Samhwa Chwijeong.
No one could fight this many alone. And above all—
That man over there, sheltering beneath the tree at the edge of the clearing, was the Branch Instructor of the Jangan branch of the Heaven Cleaving Fist Sect. His realm was Oryongbongseong.
What lunatic would dare lay a hand on the Heaven Cleaving Fist Sect?
Yu Su-myeong was confident. He quietly took a step back.
Yi Do walked closer, unhurried.
"Yesterday, one of Sambong-hyeon's merchant caravans was slaughtered to the last soul."
Killing intent gathered slowly along Yi Do's blade, until its clear light burned through the rain and etched itself into every eye watching.
"You did that. Did you truly believe nothing would come of it?"
Seo Hong, a warrior of the Samhwa Chwijeong, scoffed.
"That has nothing to do with us."
"Do you really think so?"
Seo Hong flinched. Yi Do's two eyes... there was something profoundly wrong with them.
They were, unmistakably, a human's eyes — so how could killing intent gleam off them like that?
"I turned it over and over in my mind, but the information Cheon Jeong-mun handed me left no room for doubt. He laid out the bare facts without ornament, and from those facts alone, I understood the whole of it."
Yi Do's steps did not stop. Neither did his mouth.
"You've pulled this trick many times before. Sambong-hyeon is a comparatively small district next to Jangan Commandery. When a caravan is wiped out the way one was yesterday, the clans of Sambong-hyeon cower and halt their trade for a while at least. And in that window, your caravans from Jangan Commandery monopolize the routes through Bibong Mountain and reap enormous profit. It is, admittedly, not a bad strategy. It clearly worked. But—"
A soft smile bloomed at the corner of Yi Do's mouth.
"Now it's your turn."
Seo Hong's brow creased, and he cast a glance at the warriors around him. Kill the bastard here and now.
The signals were exchanged, and they kicked off the ground as one. The distance between them and Yi Do collapsed in an instant.
And then—
Seo Hong saw a single dragon.
A mass of refined inner force, perfectly shaped — glinting with murderous intent, yet impossibly serene.
There was no time to gather his own energy, no time for anything at all.
KRAKOOOOM—!!
It happened far too quickly — Seo Hong's head had already burst apart.
The thing that grazed past where he had stood was the Cloud Dragon Sword.
Everyone stood dumbstruck. They could not comprehend what had just occurred. Even the Branch Instructor of the Heaven Cleaving Fist Sect, who had been lounging beneath his tree watching the show, peeled his back off the bark.
Yi Do did not stop. He recovered his blade and surged forward, bringing it down on the warrior directly before him.
KA-GARARANG—!
With a sound like striking lightning, the warrior's body split in two.
Tap. Tap. The sound echoed. In the next breath, Yi Do vanished from his spot. Water sprayed as another warrior's head soared skyward. Before anyone could draw breath, another followed it.
One man's heart was pierced. Another's body split in half. Another's skull ran through.
All of it happened before he could count to four.
The Branch Instructor of the Heaven Cleaving Fist Sect was just turning to flee when—
he jerked his head back in sheer terror. His skull cracked against the tree behind him, but that saved him.
Shhk—!
He stared at the sword sweeping past before his eyes, and understood. A man of rugged, formidable bearing — and on the long robe he wore was embroidered the crest of the Asura Sword Sect. White from collar to hem; without question, a Branch Instructor. His brows knotted.
"Your name. What is it?"
"You have no need of it."
Un Dohyeon swung his sword. The Branch Instructor of the Heaven Cleaving Fist Sect thrust out a fist, but it was far too late. WHAM — his punch was batted away. Un Dohyeon instantly kicked off the ground and drove his shoulder into the man's chest. The Branch Instructor hurtled backward and slammed into the tree. He tried to gather himself, but once again, he was too slow.
Shk—!
Un Dohyeon's sword ran through his throat. He spoke.
"Go on ahead. Before long, I'll send every one of your Branch Instructors to follow you."
The massacre of the Sambong branch — the one his younger sister had belonged to.
The Heaven Cleaving Fist Sect had been entangled in that atrocity as well. Un Dohyeon's vengeance was not yet finished.
His vengeance—
was the kind that could only end when all of Jangan Commandery ran red.
And Un Dohyeon believed, without a shred of doubt, that it would be fulfilled before long.
He twisted the blade.
Chuk—!
He swept the corpse aside and turned his head.
Through a downpour so immense it seemed the heavens themselves had been torn open—
Yi Do stood with his sword leveled at a man's throat.
No warrior remained alive. The corpses lined up behind Yi Do were proof enough.
Throats severed, hearts pierced, bodies cloven in two.
Unbidden, a soft smile rose to Un Dohyeon's lips — a smile utterly out of place in that scene.
It resembled Yi Do's own.
He was a man worth following.
A man worth serving.
Un Dohyeon gestured toward the rear.
At once, the warriors of the Hong Clan who had hidden themselves in the brush returned — the same men who had gone off to hunt down and slaughter the fleeing porters.
All of them were staring at Yi Do.
Before long, Yi Do swung his sword.
Shhk—!
The head of Yu Su-myeong, Chief Steward of the Jong Clan's caravan, soared into the sky.
Yi Do raised his head.
The first to kneel was Un Dohyeon.
The warriors of the Hong Clan behind him knelt as well.
"Take everything. We return to the county."
"As you command—!"
Standing in the rain, I let my thoughts wander for a time.
Watching the Hong Clan warriors gather the cargo, I beckoned to Un Dohyeon. He hurried over at once.
"Un Dohyeon."
"Yes, my lord."
"Lead these men back."
"...You are not coming with us, my lord?"
"There is somewhere I need to stop."
"..."
"When you return, deliver one-tenth of that cargo to Cheon Jeong-mun, three-tenths to the Hong Clan, and store the rest in the branch cellar."
No answer came.
"Are you not going to answer?"
"...I want to go with you."
Desire burned in Un Dohyeon's eyes. I understood it well enough. I gripped his shoulder.
"Not yet."
"...My lord..."
"As you are now, you fall short of my standard."
Cold words, but the truth. Un Dohyeon's eyes trembled violently — and then a smile spread across his lips. I liked men of this temperament.
"In the changing room beneath the branch, look inside the fifth compartment. You'll find two secret manuals there. Study them. Understood?"
"...Yes."
"No strength in that voice. Is that the voice of a man who claims to serve under me?"
Un Dohyeon dropped to one knee.
"As you command—!"
I smiled, satisfied, gave his shoulder a pat, and turned away.
If it hadn't been raining—
if a downpour like this hadn't been hammering down, I would have returned straight to the county with the rest.
But that wasn't the case, was it?
Rain like this was an opportunity, plain and simple.
They dared—
to lay hands on the clans of a territory under my governance.
They would pay the price.
My path led to Jangan Commandery.
I moved through the mountains. The downpour raged on. I couldn't recall the last time rain had fallen like this — a deluge of such staggering scale was rare, even for me.
Entering Jangan Commandery was easy. In rain like this, the senses of every man and beast dull by nature.
Muffling my presence beneath the roar of the rain took no effort at all.
A downpour this heavy already dulled their senses — and on top of that, I erased my own?
There was no catching me.
Had someone of genuinely high realm been watching, the story might have been different, but it hardly mattered. One opponent, whatever his realm, was a problem I could solve one way or another.
From the rooftop of what I took to be an inn, I gazed quietly at the compound ahead. That was the Jong Clan's estate.
Figures moved this way and that within its walls.
The layout of the compound. The positions of the warriors.
I committed all of it to memory. I held my breath. I killed even my presence.
Quietly—
the way one dissolves into the world itself, I sank into stillness.
Jangan Commandery was undeniably vast.
More than double the size of Sambong-hyeon, at the very least. The clans were numerous, and so were their warriors.
I waited, patient and silent.
The comings and goings thinned.
The estate grew quiet.
The Hour of the Boar passed, and still time flowed on. Those who would sleep had slept; those who would wake had risen.
I waited longer still.
The Hour of the Rat arrived, and the night deepened.
The only ones still moving were the warriors on patrol.
That was enough.
I awakened my senses and kicked off the ground, light as a bird taking flight.
I slipped into the Jong Clan estate with almost insulting ease.
The building I had marked earlier.
I made for it — the one guarded even more heavily than I'd expected.
I drew my sword.
A guard at the entrance spotted me. Before his mouth could even open—
Shhk—!
his head left his shoulders. As the warrior beside him drew his blade and began to shout—
I spun, sweeping the Cloud Dragon Sword in a great horizontal arc.
Shhk—!
His head struck the ground.
One left.
"Wh... who—?!"
He never finished the sentence.
Shhk—!
The blade punched through his skull and I wrenched it free at once. His corpse crumpled to the floor. I eased the door open.
Inside, a warrior patrolled the halls. His realm: the Jucheon stage.
I hurled the Cloud Dragon Sword as it was.
Shk—!
It buried itself in his head. He toppled backward. I kicked off the ground instantly and caught his collar before he could hit the floor, drawing the sword free as I lowered the body down without a sound.
I moved on.
Two warriors came into view. I killed them both.
Beyond them, one more. His realm: Yanggwangihyeon.
I closed the distance in a heartbeat, smashed his throat, and tore his head from his neck. I laid the body gently on the floor and walked on. And then I arrived.
A man lay sprawled in languid slumber, snoring. A thick, wild beard was his most striking feature.
I approached him.
At the sound of me, the sleeping man's eyes opened.
According to the records, this man's martial realm was Oryongbongseong.
The moment I saw him begin to rise, I hurled the Cloud Dragon Sword.
Thk.
It buried itself in his dantian. I closed the distance at once and clamped my left hand over his mouth.
Hkk. Hkk.
Who are you? What do you want? — his eyes demanded.
So I asked him instead.
"Are you Jong Nam-pyeong, Patriarch of the Jong Clan?"
His eyes flew wide open.
A smile curled at the corner of my mouth.
"Then that settles it."
I seized him by the crown of his head with my right hand—
and twisted, without mercy.
Crack—!