Diversion Operation
Deep in a mountain thick with undergrowth stood a hideout carved into the rock.
A black-clad figure in a face mask shoved aside the branches covering the entrance and stepped out of the cave, a long, heavy wolf-tooth mace resting across his shoulder.
"Hmm."
Beyond the ridge, he looked down in silence on a road wide enough for a caravan of wagons. His head tilted, as if he had caught some strange sign in the air.
"Something feels off."
According to the Second Prince's people, the merchant wagons would pass this way soon. Yet the closer that caravan drew, the stranger the sensation prickling through his body became.
Irritated, he pulled off the mask. The handsome jade face hidden beneath the black cloth seemed to brighten the air around him. A beautiful young man with eyes that shone high and clear, as if they held starlight.
"…It's itching."
He looked down at his lower abdomen, where his dantian sat. It wasn't a physical itch. His inner energy was vibrating in answer to something—an extremely rare phenomenon.
Not long ago he had heard that the Eunseong Merchant Group had recruited a master. The odds were low, but this itch might be that unknown expert's influence. Or perhaps more than one person in this age had received the Star's Grace.
"What a strange fate. I thought the Central Plains were vast, and here they feel this small."
If he was right, the opponent would not be easy. Fortunately, the Second Prince's side had already prepared countermeasures against that master. The quality of those "countermeasures," however, was so foul that they sat poorly with the young man.
"Once this job is done, I never get involved with them again."
Circumstances forced him to obey for now, but he truly despised their kind. Ready to destroy an innocent merchant group simply because it was tied to a rival imperial faction—ruthless creatures who would do anything for power.
He huffed a dry laugh. Of course, he was their hireling himself, so he had no right to talk. With a self-mocking smile he pulled the mask back on.
It was time to begin.
A road snaked through the mountain range. Thick brush on both sides choked the view while a long procession of people pressed on with their escort mission, unease thick in the air.
"Keep your eyes open!"
"Anything weird, blow the whistle!"
Vagabonds and escorts swept every direction with razor-edged caution. Chief Escort Na Maengdal, who had already tasted bitter defeat twice, kept roaring at them not to let their guard down.
"Why's he suddenly like that?"
At my puzzled voice, Ilhong answered while fiddling with her self-defense throwing weapons.
"Boss, we're almost at that stretch."
"What stretch?"
"The stretch where the freak with the wolf-tooth mace jumps out and smashes the cargo."
"Ah."
So we had entered what they called the killing field. With ravines on both sides and trees thick enough to hide an army, it was perfect terrain for an ambush.
Rustle. Rustle.
Sure enough, busy sounds of brush came from the forest. At that ominous noise everyone went stiff, certain it was the wolf-tooth freak, and drew their blades.
Shashashak!
What burst from the undergrowth and startled everyone, however, was a pack of plump wild boars. Moving as a herd, they spotted the mass of people, panicked, and fled in every direction.
"What, just mountain beasts?"
"Damn it, nearly gave me a heart attack."
People who had rushed forward muttered with deflated faces. Not even the occasional bandit—just wild pigs playing games with their nerves.
While everyone tried to settle their startled hearts—
Crash!
A thunderous smash came from the rear of the column. Under a heavy blunt strike, wooden fragments that had once been a wagon flew in every direction. Costly cargo slammed into the dirt and shattered to pieces.
Watching it, Chief Escort Na Maengdal let out a cry as if his insides were collapsing.
"Aaaah! No! The cargo…!"
It happened in an instant. When another wagon at the very rear exploded as if a thunderbolt had landed, people finally recognized the culprit and shouted.
"…It's him!"
"The wolf-tooth freak! That crazy bastard's back!"
"Battle formation, everyone! Protect the cargo!"
Two failed escort runs. Every time that freak appeared, the escorts had been swept away like autumn leaves. But there was no fear left in their voices now.
This time, the Divine Wind Daoist—the mysterious master who could raise three full lengths of blade force—was with them.
"Heh heh. A fellow leaking a strange aura."
Taat—
Hwang Geolgae kicked off the ground and slid away in a blur. At that ghostly, bewitching footwork the people roared with delight.
"Ooooh!"
"Look at that elusive body art, like a single streak of wind!"
"Wolf-tooth bastard! You're finished!"
"Follow the Divine Wind Daoist—!"
The unknown black-clad man who had hounded the escort agency so relentlessly he nearly destroyed their livelihood. The escorts who had been beaten one-sidedly until now charged out with battle cries, certain they could finally settle the score.
"Boss, we should go too."
Unlike those whose morale was soaring, I couldn't quite take a step. From earlier, the dantian refined by the Seongun Simbeop had been itching. I hadn't accumulated any particular good deeds—so why?
"Boss, hurry!"
But feelings aside, I was a hired vagabond. I had a job to do.
"Yeah. Let's go."
I followed Ilhong as she tugged me by the hand, running toward where the freak had appeared.
Once, the people of the martial world had called him the Beggar King.
An old man who, despite being a martial artist, dared to style himself a king, and who had commanded near-absolute power among the hundred thousand beggars of Kaifeng. A man of enormous presence even within the orthodox Murim—until one day he cast everything aside and simply left, like a monk cutting worldly ties and renouncing the dust of the world.
All of it had come after he hungered for a higher realm, suffered heart demons, and was saved by the mysterious Daoist Ilwol.
The stars of the night sky. Immortal fixtures of the celestial sphere, signposts that point the way for humankind. The teachings of that mysterious Daoist, who walked freely through the principles of all creation, had shattered the old man's narrow understanding to pieces.
So everything had turned hollow. He set down the title of Beggar King and threw himself back into the world under the name Hwang Geolgae once more.
And today, someone who carried an aura similar to that mysterious Daoist's—yet subtly different—had appeared before his eyes, wrapped head to toe in black and gripping a wolf-tooth mace.
Clang!
Hwang Geolgae traded blows with the fellow while feeling the strange sensation of sparring against the mysterious Daoist himself. More precisely, the clash of a sword stolen from the chief escort and a heavy wolf-tooth mace.
Chachachang!
The blade, thick with inner energy, angled the incoming mace and knocked it aside. Yellow sparks flew as metal met metal again and again. The tremendous rebound through his grip drew a short grunt from the black-clad man.
Stronger than expected. So the source of that itch had been this one.
"The more I look, the stranger the energy you carry. What are you?"
"……"
The black-clad man answered by coating his wolf-tooth mace in a ghastly gleam. Every nail driven into the iron shaft began to radiate murderous edge.
"A taciturn sort. Then I'll just have to peel that mask off and see who you are."
Hwang Geolgae poured inner energy into his blade, grinned, and charged. His form wavered, then closed the distance in a single ghostlike rush.
The black-clad man's eyes flew wide beneath the mask.
"Whirlwind Steps…!"
"Ho. So you recognize it."
Whoosh!
Hwang Geolgae's blade drew a blue arc—an impossible angle that came to cut the black-clad man down. The force felt like an axe crashing down; the black-clad man had no choice but to swing his mace wildly in defense.
Chaechaechaeng—!
Weapons sheathed in dense inner energy. Sword and mace collided, and formless shockwaves tore through the surroundings. Dust billowed up in a pale cloud. Even with his vision limited, the black-clad man tracked Hwang Geolgae by sheer sense and kept swinging. But with that swaying Seonpungbo, the old man slipped to his flank every time, and every ambitious strike only carved empty air.
Realizing the losses, the black-clad man stamped a true-step charged with inner energy and blew the dust away.
"Why! Why would the Dragon Head Sect Leader be guarding some escort caravan…!"
If he had known from the start that the opponent was the Beggar King, he would have found any way to avoid this.
"Heh. And is there some reason I shouldn't?"
Swish!
A lightning-fast strike lightly scored the black-clad man's front ribs. A thin red line opened in the air. The wound was shallow, but the blade had grazed a rib; the black-clad man's balance wavered. He stamped the ground hard and retreated four or five paces—only for the blade force condensed along the edge to stretch out after him, reaching for his throat.
Slash!
"Hup!"
He flung himself into a desperate rolling fall like a donkey thrashing in filth and barely saved his neck. Beneath the mask, the beautiful young man's face went pale.
To fire blade force at such density and still keep every shred of cutting power perfectly aligned?
"…Blade Force!"
Blue haze was rolling along Hwang Geolgae's blade like a living wave.
The Beggar King's reputation had always been more a string of unbelievable exploits than pure martial might. Even with the Star's Grace, turning the tables against a master of this level was nearly impossible.
"Damn it."
Understanding that, the black-clad man twisted his face into pure defeat beneath the mask.
Sharp metallic rings kept echoing between the mountains. While many people watched with sweat-slick palms, the old man and the black-clad figure had already exchanged more than fifty exchanges of weapons.
"Boss, it's closer than I expected. Shouldn't we, as his disciples, jump in?"
Ilhong, who had been watching the masters' duel in silence, spoke with a touch of anxiety, as if she felt we ought to do something.
"Nah. Leave him. He's enjoying himself."
I answered while chewing high-grade jerky I'd picked up from among the smashed wagons. They say the two best shows in the world are a fire and someone else's fight. People even hold tournaments and pay money to watch them—that's how good it is.
"…Boss, why aren't you tense at all?"
"Because neither of them has killing intent."
Words cloud reason and deceive people, but a cut never lies. And in neither man's bladework was there the will to kill the other. To the eyes of a Heavenly Killing Star like me, that was crystal clear.
"Though he sure is good at wrecking cargo."
A master who only tossed charging escorts and vagabonds aside without badly injuring them, and carefully picked out only the cargo wagons to smash. Maybe that was why they called him a freak rather than a villain or demon. If he had just stolen gold and jewels, it would have made sense.
"Of course, I know why he's doing it now."
Hired by someone in the imperial house, no doubt—to cut the Eunseong Merchant Group's throat before it became Princess Dohwa's purse. Getting tangled in the silkworm matter had accidentally shown me the backstory. Politics and dirty power struggles, no matter where you go.
"Hey. Don't you have any master-disciple loyalty? Your teacher's fighting like that and you're just chewing jerky?"
A sharp voice from beside me. Dang Yeohye had somehow drifted closer, stolen my jerky, and started nagging while she ate it. She had been watching just as hard—so why pick a fight now?
"What good would kids who can't even raise sword qi do jumping in? How about you run over and lend a hand yourself?"
I pointed at the fight with a look that said, well?
"Forget it. One look and you can tell Senior Beggar King is about to win. He's already going easy on him."
So that old man's youthful title had been Beggar King. King of the beggars—somehow both impressive and pathetic at the same time.
Slash—!
Then the blue haze rippling along Hwang Geolgae's blade condensed further, suddenly flared, and split the space in a long cut. The ground cracked open for roughly a jang, and the stones and weeds caught in between were sliced cleanly in half—as if a blade charged with force had simply grown longer.
The sword cut empty air, yet everything in front of it split. I stared blankly. Beside me, Ilhong slapped her knee.
"That's… Sword Qi Forming Force!"
I had never seen it, but I had heard the term often enough. Martial novels said you needed at least Transcendental Peak Realm to handle it, and the Transcendent Realm if you wanted to fire it freely.
"Just how high is that old man's realm?"
My meager knowledge couldn't measure it. For a son of the Moyong Clan, I had barely ever seen a true master. My life had been thoroughly sealed off from martial arts and martial artists. The closest I had come was watching my sister Moyong Cheonghye's Heaven and Earth Wave Flash Sword. I still remembered her performing that dazzling technique to cheer me up when I, a martial family's child who couldn't even learn a single sword form, had been crushed with shame. Later, of course, she had come to stab me with it.
"Kh—damn it!"
"You brat! Stand still! I still have questions for you!"
And once Hwang Geolgae started pouring Blade Force from the borrowed sword without pause, the wolf-tooth freak decided there was no answer left and bolted. Taat—! Hwang Geolgae raced after him, shouting that he still had things to ask.
Just like that, the two masters vanished into the forest in a flash.
"Ooooh!"
"The Divine Wind Daoist has driven off the wolf-tooth freak!"
"Hah, we finally shook that lunatic!"
"That's satisfying—so satisfying!"
Escorts, vagabonds, and laborers who had been getting one-sidedly beaten roared with cheers at the sight of the freak's retreat. They had clearly stored up a lot of resentment; they poured curses after the fleeing figure.
"Ended more quietly than I expected."
I swallowed the jerky I had been chewing and muttered. Hearing that the imperial house was targeting us, I had expected a stickier terror campaign. This had resolved too easily. Even the imperial family must not have expected a master of Hwang Geolgae's level to be attached.
Thinking there would be no more attacks, I was about to rest my eyes until Hwang Geolgae returned—
Crash-crash-crash—!
Another wagon smashed to pieces, and the escorts' screams began to rise.