Phantom Spearman Gwak Jeong
Honestly, I hadn't expected much.
I'd assumed it would go the way it always did — split someone's head open with a blade, or threaten them, or else lay out some constructive vision of the future. I had intended to steer all of it myself, because that was how I'd done things up until now.
Which was exactly why the situation unfolding before me felt so refreshingly strange.
For one thing, we had come to the Nokrim bandits' mountain fortress — and we were not the only ones here. Across the way stood roughly thirty martial artists, and the man at their head had his long hair tied back and a towering frame that must have stood nearly seven chi tall. His build wasn't brutish so much as surprisingly lean, and the six-chi spear slung across his back was, at a single glance, no ordinary weapon. His face was considerably younger than the one in my memory.
How should I put it — it had been a long time since I'd seen him.
If the Jeok Kingdom had its Five Great Sects, then the Kingdom of Yan had its own Five Great Sects: the Ice Heaven Divine Palace, the Golden Emperor Fist Sect, the Crimson-Dyed Sword Sect, the White Lotus Sect, and the Changryong Clan. People rarely called a noble clan a "sect," but though the Changryong Clan was bound together by blood, it was an organization that prized the cultivation of the spear above all else — hence its place among the Five Great Sects.
The man standing over there was the Young Patriarch of that Changryong Clan — the clan whose future head, Gwak Jong-cheon, the Jincheon Spear Venerable, would one day rank among the Ten Great Masters of the world.
Phantom Spearman, Gwak Jeong.
Our eyes met. To my surprise, he smiled faintly and dipped his head — a light greeting. I returned it in kind. Then, as if by prior arrangement, Gwak Jeong and I both looked toward the same spot.
There, among nearly two hundred Nokrim bandits, sat the only man occupying a chair — a tiger pelt slung over his shoulders and a bottle of liquor in one hand.
He spoke.
"Hehehehe, what a bountiful day for the Nokrim fortress. As if it weren't enough that the Young Patriarch of the great Changryong Clan himself has come to visit, now even the rising star of the Asura Sword Sect — the one setting the whole Murim abuzz — walks through our gates. What in the world is this?"
His booming laughter rolled across the fortress.
"Hey, you. The Cruel Demon who walks the Demonic Path — or a Demonic Path paved over with the Hegemon's Path, whichever it is — just what brings you here?"
I stared at him in silence.
"No answer, hm? So you didn't foresee this situation either. That makes it a coincidence, then... hehe. Good. Very good. Since I've already heard the Changryong Clan's business, and you've come all this way, feel free to make your case to me as well."
This was the part I found so novel. I had always been the one driving the situation. I had almost never stood there receiving orders and judgments from some complete nobody — not since the Yi Clan, I think. And so, paradoxically, it felt fresh.
A chuckle escaped me.
"Hehe, laughing, are we? Confidence is fine, but don't tell me you don't know who I am?"
"Should I?"
"Hooh... my, what an overflowing confidence you have. I am the right hand of the Green Forest King himself — Great Light Mountain Peak, Cho Ryong-pung."
What a grandiose title.
Now that I looked properly, that man had not been the fortress lord of Chilhyeon Mountain. The real fortress lord was, without question, the man crouching at Cho Ryong-pung's side. An awkward situation indeed — we had come to meet the fortress lord, only to find someone of even higher standing seated in his hall.
Before long, Cho Ryong-pung continued in his booming voice.
"Repeating myself makes my mouth ache, but a new guest has arrived, so I'll indulge. Listen well. This place, Chilhyeon Mountain, has become the most valuable of all our Nokrim strongholds. You know the reason well enough. That Cruel Demon over there dragged the Jeok royal family into it and made Jang'am Commandery Jeok territory. And what does that mean? It means that from now on, Jang'am Commandery sits on the border with the Kingdom of Yan, and with the strategic chokepoint of Bibong Mountain in hand, it has become one of the most important regions around."
The Young Patriarch of the Changryong Clan, silent until now, finally opened his mouth.
"Which is exactly what I proposed. Keep the toll fees exactly as they have been."
"And didn't I just tell you I refuse? The place is worth more now — how could the amount we collect stay the same? More to the point, even that Cruel Demon over there has come sniffing around. Do you think the same terms would satisfy him? Hmm?"
"..."
"Here is the position of our Nokrim fortress. From now on, we will collect double the tolls we've taken until now. We will hold this line. If you find that proposal disagreeable, we will turn away every merchant caravan attempting to enter Chilhyeon Mountain. And then you, the Changryong Clan — the martial clan closest to this border — and that Cruel Demon's Jang'am Commandery would suffer a catastrophic loss, wouldn't you? Why? Us bandits are used to taking abuse, but you two are in rather a different position, aren't you?"
He wasn't wrong. With Chilhyeon Mountain sitting astride the route and a great number of caravans passing through it, rerouting elsewhere would mean extra time and cascading additional costs.
And who would the merchants blame, then?
The Nokrim would certainly bear the brunt of the curses — but next in line would be the Asura Sword Sect of Jang'am Commandery and the Changryong Clan. The Asura Sword Sect was one thing, but why the Changryong Clan? Because the other side of Chilhyeon Mountain opened onto Geumdang Commandery in the Kingdom of Yan — and Geumdang Commandery was Changryong territory.
When the Pacheon Fist Sect had once claimed Jang'am Commandery as its domain, the Changryong Clan had tacitly allowed it. From what I'd heard in passing, the sect leader and the clan patriarch had met privately and struck some deal, and the Fist Sect had withdrawn from Jang'am entirely — so naturally, the Changryong Clan stepping to the fore now made perfect sense.
These people were no mere bandits. They were an organization rivaling the great martial clans. Cho Ryong-pung had laid out a board designed to squeeze the maximum profit out of the Nokrim's position — whether on his own initiative or under orders from the Nokrim's Grand Fortress Lord, I couldn't say, and I didn't care.
It was simply reasonable. If I had been Cho Ryong-pung, I would have done the same. That was the whole of it.
But I was not Cho Ryong-pung. Nor was I the Nokrim's Grand Fortress Lord.
"I was prepared to offer a compromise — a toll kept within reasonable bounds — but that appears to be pointless."
It truly was.
"What can you do when a parasite doesn't know satisfaction? There's nothing left but to kill you."
There was no reason left to talk. I had watched out of sheer novelty, and watching any longer would serve nothing.
I drew the Unryun Sword with my left hand.
Cho Ryong-pung snorted.
"Hey, Cruel Demon. I'll grant you've got talent, but do you not know what realm I stand in?"
How could I not.
"Ogi-jowon, isn't it?"
"That's right — Ogi-jowon. I've lived twenty years at this very realm."
I laughed outright.
"You strut around boasting that you've squirmed and thrashed for twenty years without managing to cross into the Realm of Harmony? Un Dohyeon — what do you think, looking at that thing?"
Un Dohyeon beside me answered in a quiet voice.
"I find him pathetic."
Myeong Hyeon chimed in.
"Pathetic doesn't cover it — he's an idiot. I've never seen a man boast about floundering for twenty years without rising a single step."
"That's right. An idiot, and pathetic. You two would do well to take him as a cautionary tale."
The smile vanished from Cho Ryong-pung's face in an instant. He glared at me — and I glared right back, and said, plainly:
"Listen."
"Yes, my lord."
"That one is mine. Kill every last one of the rest."
The two of them smiled.
"At once."
Cho Ryong-pung rose from his seat.
"You insolent little bastard. Fine. You dare declare war on the Nokrim — who am I to refuse..."
I didn't hear the rest. I had already closed the distance and slammed the Unryun Sword down with full force.
KWAAAAARURURUNG—!!
With a rolling crash of thunder, Cho Ryong-pung's eyes flew wide open.
The man swung his elbow.
KWAAAANG—!
Astonishingly, he beat aside the flat of the Unryun Sword. Riding the recoil, I twisted my body and immediately drove my foot down. He recoiled backward in alarm.
KWAAAAAANG—!
The ground burst apart, shards spraying in every direction, and the bandits nearby were swept off their feet by the shockwave. Amid the chaos of shrieking men and flying debris, Cho Ryong-pung drew his qi up to its peak. He looked, by now, absolutely furious.
"...Your left hand? Your arrogance pierces the very heavens."
I shrugged. Han Beom-seong had crushed my arm; my body's recovery was remarkable, but until it was fully healed, I had no intention of pushing it needlessly. And against a man of his caliber, my left hand was more than enough.
Just then, my body twisted sideways. A man shot past me — his tied hair streaming behind him — and the spear in his grip lanced out at the speed of light. Cho Ryong-pung, badly startled, swung his fist. Blazing sword-qi coiled around his knuckles, thick enough to span five chi.
KWAAAAAANG—!
The spear was knocked away. Still, twenty years at Ogi-jowon hadn't been spent sucking his thumb — the sight of him turning aside the Jincheon Three Absolutes Spear Art, one of the Changryong Clan's signature arts, was honestly impressive.
Gwak Jeong's spear whirled. His two eyes flashed. His legs drove forward, his balance shifting — and he thrust with everything he had. He had thrust only once, yet five distinct afterimages traced themselves through the empty air.
It had been a very long time since I'd seen it.
The Phantom Spear Art.
The martial art created and perfected by a tragic genius who, for a brief moment in the future, had eyed the very seats of the Ten Great Masters. In the past, Gwak Jeong had conjured over twenty phantoms from a single flourish of his spear.
Cho Ryong-pung responded this time as well. He stamped forward, threading his spinning body between the five trajectories, his fist driving straight ahead, his leg sweeping wide — and then, whirling like a top, he swung his fist with tremendous force.
All five phantom spears shattered at once.
Gwak Jeong fell back, his face stricken.
"...You...!"
His voice was shaking violently. It made sense. Honestly, I had been startled too.
No — precisely speaking, I was dumbfounded. A sigh threatened to escape me of its own accord.
"So these days any dog or cat wields demonic arts. Truly the twilight of the age."
Demonic Spirit Divine Fist.
It was that very art — a signature technique of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the cult I had annihilated in my past life.
"What? You bastards, only now feeling fear? Too late. You've laid eyes on this art, so every last one of you dies today. I can't let you live — with your two deaths, the war between the Asura Sword Sect and the Changryong Clan begins!"
I ignored him. The hallmark of the Demonic Spirit Divine Fist was its monstrous destructive power. One might call it similar to the Pacheon Divine Fist, a signature art of the Pacheon Fist Sect — but it was a different beast entirely, because its destructive force was better than double that of the Pacheon Divine Fist.
It had just shredded Gwak Jeong's spear art outright — proof enough. There was a reason this, among demonic arts, was called a signature technique.
Gwak Jeong sidled up beside me.
"We've only just met, but — how would you feel about joining hands?"
I stared at him for a long moment. Among the six of the Ten Great Masters who had come to kill me in my past life had been Gwak Jeong's father, the Jincheon Spear Venerable. He had not come for the Asura Heaven-Breaking Five Secrets, nor to kill me out of righteousness in the Murim.
The Jincheon Spear Venerable had come to kill me because he had mistakenly believed that I had killed the man standing before me now.
I glanced back. The Changryong Clan's warriors and the two from the Jang'am detachment were, as if by prior arrangement, slaughtering the Nokrim bandits in perfect accord.
"I don't intend to drag this out. I'll end it within two moves. Care to guess which one?"
Gwak Jeong laughed, as if delighted.
"I will. Let me try — the first."
Good enough. The moment I turned my head, Cho Ryong-pung's fist was already hurtling at my face. I slipped it with the Heavenly Steed Divine Steps and immediately extended the Unryun Sword.
Supreme Clarity Dragon Form Sword.
A dragon wrought of pure sword-qi lunged in a straight line. Cho Ryong-pung laughed, kicked his leg high into the sky, and slammed it down.
Demonic Spirit Heaven-Dominating Kick.
The dragon crumbled to nothing. It didn't matter. In that gap, Gwak Jeong's spear drove toward Cho Ryong-pung, who whipped his head around in alarm.
I read him. His intent — his thoughts, the exact manner in which he meant to move next — all of it painted itself across my vision.
I gripped the Unryun Sword tight and swung — not upward, but down. Cho Ryong-pung faltered for an instant, certain I was aiming for his neck; his intent had failed to read my strike at all.
Shhk—!
His leg came off cleanly at the thigh, bone laid bare. The moment the wincing Cho Ryong-pung tried to thrust out his fist, Gwak Jeong's spear came flying. Cho Ryong-pung twisted his head aside — and at once, his eyes blew wide open.
He had no choice. I was standing exactly where he had turned.
I reached out my right hand, seized his throat, and shoved him sideways.
Thuk—!
The spearhead punched clean through Cho Ryong-pung's skull.
I let go. His corpse slumped to the earth with a heavy thud.
It really was the twilight of the age. Now even common Nokrim bandits wielded demonic arts — and not just any demonic arts, but ones at the very apex of them. Who had given it to him, through what channel he'd obtained it — it interested me, but no further than that. I would be fighting the demonic faithful until the boredom set in regardless. Learning it now meant nothing.
A quick look around confirmed the rest of the bandits had already been dealt with. Not a single casualty among the Changryong Clan — nor, for that matter, the Jang'am detachment.
Truly worthy of one of the Five Great Sects.
I turned my head. There stood Gwak Jeong, smiling.
The tragic genius. A man gentle by nature, yet possessed of a steely decisiveness — the moment there was something that had to be done, he acted without a flicker of hesitation.
He was only twenty-four this year. His realm, Ogi-jowon.
The finest young masters in all the Murim were called the Four Dragons and One Phoenix — and of those, two men vied for the very summit: the Young Palace Master of the Ten Thousand Year Snow Palace, and the Young Patriarch of the Changryong Clan. Both the same age, both at Ogi-jowon.
Gwak Jeong's defining trait was his love of befriending his fellow prodigies.
He was a man who understood reason. And in my past life, he had been one of the warriors who learned the truth of the Murim Alliance and the Imperial Sword Sect and raged against it — one who went further still, moving to kill them for it, and died at the hands of the "Heavenly Emperor."
His corpse had been covered in traces of Kunlun.
He came toward me.
Phantom Spearman, Gwak Jeong.
He was the second son of the Changryong Clan. By custom, the eldest son assumes the position of Young Patriarch — but Gwak Jeong possessed talent enough to shatter that custom outright.
The future. A man with the makings of one of the Ten Great Masters of the world — so the world judged Gwak Jeong. Handsome, extraordinarily gifted in the martial arts, sociable, blessed with many friends.
But what man has only virtues? His single flaw was his temperament. As I said, when there was something that had to be done, he was more resolute than anyone — but until that moment arrived, he was altogether too gentle. He would take blows without retaliation, bow his head until people called him a fool. Yet the moment his own line was crossed, he became more unyielding than any man alive. Not even his own father, the Jincheon Spear Venerable, could stop him then.
That was the kind of man he was.
He looked at Yi Do with curious eyes. So this was the famous Cruel Demon, right before him. Rumor said he was a demon of demons walking the Demonic Path — but rumor, it seemed, was only rumor. He laughed to himself.
"Your handiwork is remarkably swift, my lord."
"Yours wasn't so slow either."
"Haha... what can I say? When the moment comes to act, one must be decisive — that is how we protect the people around us, is it not?"
It was not a wrong statement, and Yi Do nodded in agreement. Then Gwak Jeong posed an utterly unexpected question.
"What is your reason for seeking strength?"
"Are you proposing a battle of questions and answers?"
"I am. It's a habit of mine — whenever I meet someone exceptional, I always ask. Would you grant me an answer?"
It was not a difficult one.
"To protect."
"Yourself? Or..."
"To protect everything."
"Everything, you say..."
"I am a greedy man. I do not pursue strength merely to keep my own skin whole. Not only strength — my people, everything I possess, the dreams of my people. I pursue strength to protect all of it."
"How profound."
"And you?"
Gwak Jeong smiled faintly.
"The same. I too pursue strength to protect everything."
It felt uncanny. He had not felt this way since meeting the Young Palace Master of the Snow Palace. Truly, not once since then.
"It feels as though destiny itself is pulling me toward you."
Gwak Jeong extended his hand.
"Will you be my friend?"