The Fisherman's Offer
Under the pitch-black sky, only starlight gently rippled across the water's surface. The soft murmur of a stream flowing toward the embankment blended with the occasional rustle of wind through the reeds. The sound of carriage wheels faded into the distance, and moments later, the celestial chart reflected on the water twisted violently as an arm burst forth.
"Hah..." A man hauled himself onto the riverbank, gasping for breath as he clutched at the rocks. His waterlogged silk robes had long since been discarded; now he wore only cotton garments and trousers. Of course, he was not the sort to mourn the loss of a single gold-threaded silk coat. Even the cotton robe he wore was woven from the rarest cotton produced only a few bolts each year in the distant Milseori region—more expensive than silk, if anything. And beneath it, hidden from view, lay the Cheonjam Bo-ui, the Heavenly Silkworm Treasure Robe. Though many garments bore that name, this one—woven strand by strand from the webs of hundreds of golden female spiders from the Southern Sea Islands, each thread meticulously cleaned and spun—was among the finest. Being fundamentally a thin silk garment, it offered no true protection against blades or impacts, falling short of true invulnerability, yet its very subtlety made it invaluable when one needed to feign death after being struck by a poisoned blade.
The cost had been burdensome even for him, but what was money compared to one's life? Besides, wearing such a legendary artifact straight out of a martial tale brought its own quiet pleasure. All in all, a fine bargain, thought Jo Jae-ui, the Yeopgeum of the Gold Tripod Merchant Alliance.
"Now what..." He had long known that Chief Manager Gong had ties to the clan's inner factions. Yet he had never imagined the man would act so abruptly. From the circumstances, the murder would not be discovered immediately, but Jo Jae-ui was a man of tight schedules. His prolonged disappearance could not be concealed forever, and with the other Yeopgeum already reaching their own decisions, there was no chance of victory. This was why the truly thoughtless were far more terrifying than the merely clever, he lamented.
Because he had survived, their goal remained unfulfilled—and even if it had succeeded, it would have been nothing more than slow suicide in the long run. Still, the damage this reckless act had inflicted upon him was immense. He would now have to walk a great distance to the nearest city, wasting precious time, and seeking aid from the other Yeopgeum would weaken his own influence. Moreover, to send a proper warning, he would have to repay the debt incurred by this incident. All of it was profoundly troublesome, and above all, it wounded his pride. But what use was regretting sunk costs? A wise man would focus on ensuring such a thing never happened again. The next time he met Chief Manager Gong, he would demand to know why the man had done this before sending him off. With that resolve, Jo Jae-ui wrung out his soaked cotton robe—when he sensed movement behind him.
Without turning, Jo Jae-ui asked calmly while twisting the fabric, "Who is there?"
"Pay me no mind and finish what you're doing. I'm merely a fisherman with little patience."
Despite his words, the old man continued to approach. Watching his steps closely, Jo Jae-ui suddenly twisted his body and planted his foot. A whirlwind erupted from that pivot, carving a spiral in the air as his inner-force-laden palm shot straight toward the old man's heart.
"Interesting. A martial art I've never seen before. Did you learn it at Jipmudang?"
"I did learn it there, but I created the technique myself. This is my first time using it in real combat, and it seems it didn't work as well as I'd hoped."
"For someone whose true profession isn't that of a martial artist, this level is quite impressive."
"And what is your true profession, Elder?"
"This isn't martial arts. It's a mystical art."
The old man spoke with one eye closed. In the remaining eye, golden Dharma wheels spun layer upon layer. As he switched eyes and clenched his right fist, a fierce gust of wind blew forth. The reeds flattened by the wind instantly transformed into thin golden cords that stretched outward. When the wind ceased, they bound Jo Jae-ui from all directions, forcing him to his knees.
Wrapped tightly in the golden cords, Jo Jae-ui spoke with admiration. "...I should have learned mystical arts instead."
"Don't. This path is no easier."
"Still, I feel my talents lie more in using my head than my body. So, who might you be, Elder?"
"I told you. I'm a fisherman."
"And the fish?"
At that, the old man smiled. "Sharp. No wonder he took notice of you."
"Thank you. But you seem acquainted with the Alliance Head?"
"Of course. Ilbi Cheosa is none other than myself."
"Ah..." Jo Jae-ui's eyes widened. Ilbi Cheosa was the largest investor since the founding of the Gold Tripod Merchant Alliance. His name was unknown to the outside world, and even the Yeopgeum had never seen his face—only the Alliance Head occasionally met him. Naturally, Jo Jae-ui and the others had assumed it was merely an alias the Alliance Head used when he wished to conceal the source of funds.
"I thought it was just the Alliance Head's slush fund alias."
"Understandable, but no."
"Then what business does the esteemed Ilbi Cheosa have with me?"
"It seems you've decided you're willing to talk. Good."
As the old man snapped his fingers, the golden cords binding Jo Jae-ui unraveled and shrank back into reeds. The large rock beneath the tree transformed into an ornately decorated carriage. Taking the old man's offered hand, Jo Jae-ui rose and asked, "Was that also a mystical art?"
"A bit of formation technique as well. If you wish, I could teach you some."
"That does sound intriguing."
"Only if you accept my proposal, of course."
"I'll accept."
The old man frowned. "Isn't that rather hasty?"
Jo Jae-ui replied calmly while donning the windproof robe that flew from the carriage at the old man's gesture. "What choice do I have in this situation? Refusing would only lead to death."
"Unexpected, but your comprehension is truly excellent. Very well. Then allow me to explain what you must do from now on."
"Before that."
"Hm?" The old man, who had been opening the carriage door, turned back.
Jo Jae-ui naturally climbed into the carriage first and answered, "What should I call you? I can't keep saying 'Elder' forever."
"Ah, that's true. Well, just call me Master Ju."
"So, is this fellow the one you were waiting for?"
"Yes. Ah, this is Master Hwang. It would be good to get acquainted—you might even receive a free tonic from him someday."
With those final words, the carriage door closed, and the silent vehicle sped away through the reed fields.
* * *
"You expect me to believe that?"
"However, there was no sign of falsehood in his words."
Geomseon let out yet another sigh. The blind youth who had just departed was far too courteous to be believed as a disciple of the Wugeuk Castle. The very fact that he had come all the way from Wugeuk Castle to apologize was astonishing enough, but when the sect's warriors openly provoked him and he merely laughed it off, one could hardly tell whether he was a warrior of Wugeuk Castle or a Shaolin monk. Geomseon, who always preached against factionalism and urged people to see individuals for who they were, knew that consistency demanded he treat the youth warmly. Yet he found it difficult. The news the youth had brought was simply too preposterous.
Geomseon muttered, "They call me Geomseon because I somehow earned that empty title."
"Is there anyone in the martial world who does not know of your renown, Elder?"
"But if that story is true, I would be too ashamed to ever meet anyone again."
"Pardon?"
Namgung Ho, deputy commander of the Namgung Clan's Great Derivation Corps, reflexively questioned the remark before swallowing his words. Who was this elder? After losing his arm to the Heavenly Demon, he had single-handedly ended the dark age of the Central Plains martial world and laid the foundation for the martial world of today—a living legend. Though ungrateful ruffians openly claimed he had grown senile, using his seclusion and age as excuses, to Namgung Ho the giant before him remained an object of reverence and worship as a swordsman. Yet Geomseon seemed unconcerned by the discourtesy.
Geomseon asked, "Mind Sword is a difficult technique with few practical uses. Are you familiar with Sound Arts?"
"Is it not the signature art of the Life-Stealing Zither?"
"Do you know how he earned that title?"
"I understand he earned it by taking a hundred lives with a single performance at Taeyeong Pavilion."
It was a famous tale. Among the One Hundred Great Masters, the Ten relied on martial arts they had revealed by chance despite not being martial artists, and their anecdotes were all equally extraordinary. Among them, the story of Jeung Je-gyeong of the Life-Stealing Zither was so renowned that few did not know it. When his friend was dragged away by a heterodox group for failing to repay a loan, Jeung Je-gyeong, working as a musician in Hangzhou, played the Life-Stealing Melody at a lively brothel gathering, causing the entire heterodox group, along with the guests and servants present, to die with blood spraying from their seven orifices—a total of one hundred people.
Geomseon nodded and asked, "Among them, how strong do you think the one with the deepest inner force was?"
Namgung Ho answered cautiously, "First-class, perhaps?"
"It may have been Peak. In any case, there were no One Hundred Great Masters among them."
Geomseon lifted the teacup before him, took a sip, and set it down again. Staring into the cup for a moment, he eventually continued. "In essence, Mind Sword and Sound Arts are not so different. Both disturb the opponent's mind through the senses, causing them to collapse from within. I too could achieve something similar to Jeung Je-gyeong by performing a sword dance. Yet he claimed that eccentric felled the Martial Emperor with a single strike into qi deviation."
"Then are you saying that Gwian Maengmu was lying?"
"...Yet I sensed no falsehood from him whatsoever."
Geomseon sighed once more. "That is precisely the problem."
* * *
"The weather is lovely—smile a little. You're young, aren't you? Doesn't the whole world look rose-colored to you? I think it did for me at that age."
The Heavenly Demon spoke while lightly tapping Jegal Ji's shoulder. Jegal Ji replied in a cracked voice, "My apologies. I am not usually the smiling type."
"Oh?" The Heavenly Demon tilted their head slightly and scanned Jegal Ji's face from below before poking their side with an index finger. "Why the sudden change? You were doing fine just moments ago."
"You have no intention of killing me anyway, do you?"
"..."
"You need me as a hostage. That is why you brought me here."
"Quick on the uptake. How dull."
The Heavenly Demon leaned back and yawned. Staring blankly at the ceiling, they suddenly asked as if remembering something. "Don't you have any poison or the like? People usually commit suicide in situations like this."
"We do, but would you allow me to die?"
"Of course not."
The Heavenly Demon smirked. Clinging desperately to her fading consciousness, Jegal Ji spoke. "If I were going to do it, I would have done so before my nails were pulled out. I do not understand why you bother asking pointless questions and tormenting me when simply knocking me unconscious would suffice."
Hearing this, the Heavenly Demon narrowed their eyes. "Hey, when you say it like that, I sound like the villain. Be honest—did you have bad thoughts the moment Master Yu left?"
"...I did."
"Right. You? Orthodox faction. And me?" The Heavenly Demon poked Jegal Ji's chest with their index finger before pressing firmly against their own. "Demonic Cult. With this, the agreement is already made. Whether you try to kill me or I pull out your nails for no reason, we simply accept it as is. The one who isn't prepared is the real problem."
Jegal Ji replied, "That is also correct."
"So why haven't you even attempted to die?"
"Because I want to live."
"Hm?" The Heavenly Demon's eyes twitched.
"You want to live? Even if it burdens your clan?"
"Of course."
"...Don't tell me you were actually abused by your clan, or that there's something you must accomplish by surviving, or that you have a mother only you can take care of, or some other tear-jerking story?" The Heavenly Demon asked while waving one hand with half-closed eyes. Jegal Ji spoke in a small but firm voice. "There is nothing of the sort."
Before she realized it, the Heavenly Demon had risen and leaned in close to Jegal Ji's face, whispering, "Then why?"
"Does wanting to live require a reason? I simply want to live."
Jegal Ji barely managed to lift her head and meet the Heavenly Demon's gaze. The Heavenly Demon's eyes gleamed. "Hey, you've got potential. Want to join the Demonic Cult?"