A Rain of Iron
Master. If on a summer day when a downpour of martial artists falls, the heavens and earth suddenly flip and every single raindrop turns into black iron pellets, it would look exactly like this. The entire floor had unleashed tens of thousands of iron rounds toward the center of the pit. Flashes of light were followed by rising heat and flying iron pellets, throwing the surroundings into chaos, yet the sound itself remained perfectly still and quiet. The pellets moved faster than sound, so even the most profound martial arts could not counter them. They pierced iron plates with ease, rendering even the sturdiest armor and tightest formations nothing but harbingers of death. This was the greatest reason why no one in the martial world—whether orthodox, bandits, or barbarians—dared to defy the Heavenly Dynasty’s order. There was no separate trap. From the moment this place was built, the floor had been filled with gunpowder and iron rounds instead of soil and stones, turning the entire bottom of the pit into a cannon aimed at the altar. There was no special mechanism, which explained why the floor had no empty spaces. How the primers had been triggered remained a mystery, but that was not the immediate problem.
I had thrown my entire body to escape the concentrated fire at the center, but since the shots were scattered, even a desperate leap left me inside the dense barrage. No matter what tricks I used, I could not avoid at least a dozen hits. Death had crept right up to my nose.
I myself did not feel much regret. Had I not already tried to pretend I did not exist in this world? I was someone who feared even stepping into the world because nothing felt certain, yet could not bear the irreversible decision to disappear, so I had only hidden away. If fate pushed me from behind and told me it was time to end, what reason was there to resist?
Still, even if I could accept it after living a long, if unremarkable, life, what about Cho Yak, whom I held in my arms? The immature Baek kept flashing through my mind as well. Master Ju and Master Cheon would feel regret yet continue on their paths, but Master Hwang and Master Gu, who pretended otherwise while being tender-hearted, would grieve for a long time. Since I had not gone to the Henan Academy, I had yet to keep my promise to Gyeon Yo. Thinking back, the promise with that bastard Cho was also unfinished, and a half-written treatise still lay in my room at Jipmudang. Those were the things I regretted.
“How utterly foolish.”
The sound of leather shoes stepping across the floor reached me. He was tall, with strides wider than his height suggested, and the rustle of his wide cloak was loud. This was probably Guiseon.
“Your skill exceeded expectations, but I never imagined you would be this stupid.”
The footsteps stopped, and a slightly irritated voice continued.
“You should have thrown her away. If you had dropped her immediately and run, you would not have been hit even half as much. I had high hopes since you are also an immortal, yet this is disappointingly dull. How have you survived until now with such a spineless attitude?”
He took another step forward and stood before me, with Cho Yak lying at his feet.
“You lost today because you are naive and foolish. Well then, farewell.”
As he raised one hand, I lifted my head at the same time. I saw refined features and eyes widened like lanterns. My throat felt numb as I forced out a voice, but my mouth was heavy and the words came out slurred.
“What did you say?”
At the same moment Guiseon spoke, he thrust his hand forward with tremendous speed that even my intact meridians would have struggled to follow. Yet it was also an obvious move, one not worth following. I retreated four steps in an instant. He looked at me.
“It is surprising that you can still move.”
A shallow blood line had been carved across his side, but it closed instantly without leaving a trace. It was truly remarkable, yet nothing to be shocked by. If one wished to be called an immortal, that much should be expected.
When I spat out the iron pellet that had been in my mouth, fragments of broken teeth and a little blood came with it. Tasting the metallic tang, I opened my mouth again.
“The pellets are rather thin.”
“...”
I slowly planted my legs and stood up. Several iron rounds that had been half-buried in my body fell to the floor and rolled away.
“If you had used slightly thicker ones, I would have died without a chance.”
“Is that so.”
It was no exaggeration. The desperate protective qi I had deployed might not be usable again, and blocking bullets with it had been impossible from the start. Bruises and tears covered my body, and in some places the pellets had sunk nearly half an inch deep. If the number of rounds had been halved and each made twice as heavy, my body would now have several new holes.
“A pity it turned out this way, is it not? Since things have come to this, you should make a better trap next time.”
“No need for that.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Guiseon spread one hand, curled his fingers like hooks, and kicked off the ground. The force was so violent that the stone fragments and dirt covering the floor rippled like water and sprayed in all directions. The power contained in the strike was like a great cannon shattering a castle wall—impossible to withstand head-on—yet it was obvious he could not easily adjust his trajectory, so simply stepping aside would suffice.
But I could not. Cho Yak lay before me. Whether I picked her up and dodged or blocked the attack here, after going through a rain of iron pellets to save her, would I simply hand her over again?
My sword and Guiseon’s fingers collided. It felt as though a mountain were sliding along the blade. Like crossing a storm in a small boat, I employed every technique—sometimes riding the force, sometimes deflecting it, sometimes letting it pass. An instant that felt like an age passed, and I caught the trembling tip of my sword. When I spat out the blood pooled in my mouth, the sword somehow felt light. Looking down, I saw that the upper third of the blade had vanished. I had taken special care to avoid putting weight on it, yet the aftershock alone had torn it apart.
“...Your strength is certainly impressive.”
“Jealous?”
“Who knows. In the end, it is all just the price of human life, is it not?”
“It is.”
Indeed, great strength was a good thing. The universe was endlessly vast while humans were endlessly small; no matter how much one’s capabilities increased, there would always be things beyond reach. Yet that was only true when the power was obtained without cost. I shook my head.
“Where would you find someone who envies a debtor for having many debts?”
Guiseon chuckled.
“Debts, you say. I wonder if that fellow thought the same.”
“Who are you referring to?”
“The one lying there.”
Following Guiseon’s gesture, I looked down at my feet. Cho Yak lay there.
“It seems he consumed several people in order to take revenge on me. What do you think?”
“What is there to think? It is not something I can comment on.”
At my immediate reply, Guiseon’s expression twisted strangely.
“So it is not?”
“Of course not. I do not know the exact circumstances, but if that is what happened, then it was also Cho Yak’s choice. If he had devoured innocent people without purpose like you, that would be different, but consuming a few to punish someone who brings nothing but great harm to the world—upon hearing the reason, it might even sound reasonable, would it not?”
Guiseon’s brow furrowed even deeper. I could guess his misunderstanding. He had believed I was a good person. But I was the person farthest from goodness. Human strength and wisdom were far too feeble, and good and evil, right and wrong, were even more superficial. Killing a person was clearly wrong, yet how many people killed simply for the sake of killing? The world was filled with cases of killing one to save dozens, making unavoidable sacrifices for a better world for all, or making people pay the price for their wrongs. Amid that chaos, deciding what was right and wrong within one’s own reach and taking responsibility was entirely that person’s burden—but I had never been able to summon the courage for such a decision. When choices had come to me, what I chose was escape. Terrified of bearing the responsibility for my choices, I had fled into the mountains and hidden away, pretending I had never existed from the beginning.
A good person was someone who did not fear this dark world and advanced, firmly believing in and upholding a moral code they had established or chosen, while also earning wide recognition from others for the goodness of that goodness. I was not a good person. Rather, in the sense that I possessed no subjective standard of good, I belonged to the same category as the Guiseon before me. I was merely an idiot lacking the wisdom to decide and a coward who feared responsibility.
“Revenge, you say. Is that not merely an excuse?”
“Most things in this world are like that. There is always an excuse attached. And it has long been my habit not to deny another’s excuse as long as there is even a drop’s worth of sense in it.”
Only then did Guiseon seem to roughly understand, and he clicked his tongue.
“My, living must be exhausting just listening to you.”
“Is there any need to say more? Fortunately, even in such a harsh life, rain sometimes falls.”
“Rain?”
“I am referring to you. Do you perhaps intend to make excuses?”
At those words, Guiseon’s lips curled into a long smile.
“Of course not. I am proud. Everything was simply for my own pleasure and comfort.”
“Thank you. This will be a rare fight where my heart feels at ease.”
I smiled back and raised my sword. It would not be an easy fight. My limbs and meridians were torn, and I had lost a fair amount of blood; it was already miraculous that my body could move at all, and I could not expect proper force behind either sword techniques or footwork. Moreover, Cho Yak lay on the floor, and her life was just as important as mine, so I had only one body to use while having twice as many places to be hit. My leg was injured and I carried a burden, giving the opponent the advantage in mobility. That did not mean I held any advantage in a direct clash either; on the contrary, his strength greatly overwhelmed mine.
Military strategy said that a famous general fought at the time and place of his choosing. Judging by how this battlefield had been prepared, Guiseon could be called a famous general, while I was the most incompetent commander in the world. However, there was one thing Guiseon had failed to consider: he was a Ghost Immortal, and I was a Sword Immortal.