Chapter 24: Blood Debt (1)
Chapter 24: Blood Debt (1)
Once upon a time, the Assassination Pavilion was considered an Orthodox martial sect.
Before you burst into laughter at that sentence, you must consider the phrase "once upon a time."
By the standards of medieval China, when that phrase is attached to something, it often refers to an incredibly distant past.
In the ancient past, "assassin" was often used as a synonym for "heroic knight."
The Warring States period. That harsh era when Confucius and Mencius were saying, "Shouldn't we start living virtuously now?" and Han Feizi was responding, "What on earth are you talking about, Confucius?"
Sima Qian evaluated the assassins of that era as follows:
Their purpose was clear, and their will did not waver. How could it be called a delusion for their names to be passed down to future generations? (《Records of the Grand Historian: Biographies of Assassins》)
In other words, from the days when "assassin" referred to manly men who pierced the hearts of the establishment with the spirit of a wild beast, to the Yuan Dynasty when the establishment wasn't even a Han Chinese government—there was a glorious time when these fellows were treated as an Orthodox faction.
Then came the founding of the Ming Dynasty. This was an era where all Orthodox sects in the Central Plains respected the Imperial Court and conformed to the administrative rule of the government. Consequently, a sect that specialized only in the study of how to efficiently stab those in power found it increasingly difficult to remain "Orthodox."
Around the time the Black Path Demonic Alliance was reorganized around the Hebei Peng Family, the Thousand Autumns Assassination Pavilion, which had been "going long" on the Orthodox faction, finally "went short" and attempted a miraculous change in position.
To stab someone secretly at night while remaining "fair and square" required many restrictions.
However, they surprisingly realized that if they stabbed someone secretly and despicably, they were free from all constraints.
Now, the Assassination Pavilion shed the name "Thousand Autumns."
There was no longer a need to maintain the symbolism of an organization that pursued grudges to enact justice.
And so, two hundred years passed, leading to the present.
Having cast off all worldly constraints and shackles, a part of the Assassination Pavilion—the "good night friends" of the powerful and the elite—suddenly had a thought: Why don't we cast off the shackle known as the Hebei Dragon Slaying Alliance as well?
"The Crown Prince joined hands with the White Lotus Cult?"
"The Peng Family is going to war with the White Lotus Cult?"
By the time they reached the thought that perhaps now was the perfect time to take a "long position" again...
The Beijing Branch of the Assassination Pavilion.
"Young Master, what do we do now?"
"If we succeed, we can have the Imperial Court at our backs. Don't worry. I will take responsibility for everything!"
It all began when a somewhat immature assassin, desperate for an "achievement," slaughtered five Peng Family warriors who had noticed him.
He believed that if he succeeded, he could regain the prestige of the distant past and return to being a legitimate Orthodox sect. He thought that if he achieved such a feat, his name would be the next on the list for the position of Pavilion Master.
However, he failed to realize what it truly meant to "do away with" warriors of the Peng Family.
He failed to consider what had happened in the past history of the Martial World whenever someone provoked the Peng Family head-on.
*
From the moment I left the academy until the sun began to set, I walked all over Beijing.
It was partly to organize my thoughts and partly to find a suitable location for my bait operation.
A bit of both.
As a result, I learned one thing for certain.
There isn't a single alley in Beijing without a beggar.
"I'm sure I saw that uncle earlier."
Even in this era, Beijing was one of the most populous cities in the world.
While I couldn't pinpoint the exact number, it was at least over 400,000. For reference, I recalled that Hanyang during this period had around 50,000 people.
What are the odds of meeting the same beggar twice in different areas of such a massive city?
The answer is zero. I was a liberal arts major, so I couldn't do that kind of math...
But as I've said repeatedly, if God had any sense, He shouldn't have tripped a liberal arts student into a medieval isekai...
Anyway.
"No, I mean, is it even possible to just stand here looking delicious all by myself?"
How am I supposed to do anything when the Beggars' Sect is following me with their eyes wide open?
Would the Assassination Pavilion be crazy enough to try and take me out in this situation?
The moment they witnessed such a thing, the Beggars' Sect would surely run straight to my grandfather. It would be the perfect chance to incite internal strife among the Black Path sects of the Hebei region.
Those guys are pranksters who try to drive wedges between Black Path factions even when there's no reason to.
"Um, are you listening by any chance?"
I stopped walking and spoke toward a corner of the alley.
I tried to talk to the mysterious Hao Clan expert who was likely guarding me while hiding somewhere I couldn't detect.
The Hao Clan might not know the details of the conversation held within the academy, but they should at least know that my "bait operation" requires a space shielded from outside eyes.
It was getting to the point where I wondered if this Hao Clan guard was even actually following me.
I mean, if someone from the Assassination Pavilion just pops up and says "Hello," I'll literally just die on the spot.
As I was walking with those thoughts, I saw a group from the Beggars' Sect rushing toward me from a distance.
'What is it?'
I expected them to approach me, but the beggars just swarmed around, glanced at me, and started whispering among themselves.
As I began to rest my fingers on the hilt of my blade, the murmuring beggars vanished from the street as if they had been wiped clean.
"....?"
I looked around, and the beggars were gone.
The beggars who had been lying in every alley just a moment ago, stealing glances at me, were all leaving at once as if it were suddenly dinner time.
They slunk away with expressions that looked somewhat frightened.
"Did the senior over there do this, perhaps?"
I spoke toward an empty wall.
However, no answer came back.
It seemed certain the Hao Clan had done it, but I couldn't fathom what they could have done to make the beggars leave.
The beggars of the Beggars' Sect are fellows who never move unless physical force (murder) is involved.
Since the information they gather is their livelihood, they wouldn't have wanted to miss the intel that the youngest young master of the Hebei Peng Family was wandering around alone.
'Is the Beijing Hao Clan really that powerful?'
An organization that strong shouldn't exist within the Shuntian Prefecture region of Beijing.
Excluding the Hebei Peng Family, there shouldn't be any force with enough martial power to drive away those leech-like beggars of the Beggars' Sect by force.
"Tsk, what is it then?"
I grumbled as if I had no idea who it was and kept walking.
I felt a bit of cold sweat pooling under my hand resting on the hilt.
'Who did you attach to me, Hao Clan?'
I knew of cases where the Beggars' Sect acted like this.
My grandfather.
I had heard that when one of the Fifteen Armies of the World, one of the Three Venerables, stepped out personally, the beggars would flee in droves.
This meant that a master powerful enough to scare even the Beijing beggars—who would cling to and beg from a Prince of the Blood—was currently around me.
They probably aren't a master on my grandfather's level, but...
'It's better if it's someone the Hao Clan sent.'
Because if it were an expert from the Eastern Depot, the Assassination Pavilion, or the White Lotus Cult, I'd be a dead man regardless of who the Hao Clan sent.
I gripped the hilt tightly and kept walking.
Whatever the case, after the beggars hid themselves, the Beijing streets, now darkened, became increasingly deserted.
*
'That brat!'
The Hao Clan Leader, Wiji Cheon-yeong, sat on the roof of a pavilion and looked down at the streets of Beijing.
Specifically, at the back of Peng Hyeon-hwi, who was walking in the middle of the street.
A ten-year-old boy. Walking briskly with his hand on his hilt, dressed in high-quality Peng Family martial robes, he almost looked leisurely.
But he couldn't deceive the eyes of a master who had stepped into the Harmony Realm.
The hand gripping the hilt was trembling slightly.
'Fear? Is he nervous?'
Wiji Cheon-yeong immediately dismissed that thought.
No. If that were the case, he should have been intimidated from the moment he first entered Beijing alone.
The boy's level was far too low to deceive her eyes.
No matter how much he pretended to be bold, she couldn't have failed to notice.
Up until the moment he left the academy, he had clearly been walking with confidence.
As if he didn't have a single worry. And she could tell what kind of thinking that confidence stemmed from.
He was at ease because an expert from the Hao Clan was protecting him.
He was clever. He trusted the Hao Clan's information network and believed that, based on that information, they would have assigned the optimal person to guard him.
It meant he knew that, considering his value, the Hao Clan would never let him die.
It was surely a silent threat that he could expose Cheon U-rin's identity at any time.
And it meant he knew the Hao Clan would realize that threat even if he didn't voice it.
He believed that despite making such a threat, he possessed enough "future value" that they would protect him instead of eliminating him.
This was not the mental state a ten-year-old boy should have.
To fully trust his own reasoning in this precarious situation where numerous sects were intertwined, and while bearing the massive burden of high treason...
That made it even stranger.
Why was he suddenly terrified now? It was completely different from the behavior he had shown so far...
'Wait.'
Wiji Cheon-yeong's eyes fell on the beggars fleeing through the alleys.
They were the ones she had subtly pressured when they began to gather while she was tailing Peng Hyeon-hwi.
A pressure that said: The Hao Clan Leader is here, so get lost if you don't want to die.
Fortunately, the Beijing Branch Master of the Beggars' Sect, Geum Hyang-gae, was by no means a fool. As soon as he realized Wiji Cheon-yeong had appeared, he pulled his men back.
As that thought occurred to her, her eyes fixed on Peng Hyeon-hwi's back again.
"Ha..."
Just by seeing the beggars retreat.
Since he knew he had a Hao Clan guard...
He deduced that the guard was a master powerful enough to drive away the entire Beggars' Sect.
He assumed that such a master might be someone on the level of his own grandfather.
And since the only Harmony Realm master in the Hao Clan was one of the Fifteen Armies—the Hao Clan Leader herself...
"I really... want him."
Wiji Cheon-yeong unconsciously licked her slightly parted lips as she looked down at Peng Hyeon-hwi.
At that age, he was already a fair youth so exquisite that he wouldn't look out of place in a brothel.
On top of that, it was said that three years ago, at the age of seven, he had annihilated a Black Path sect with a single blade. He must be a talent the Peng Family Head had raised with extreme care.
And every word he spoke, every step of his thought process, was a level of cunning unimaginable for his age.
Any master of any sect would covet a kid like that.
At that thought, Wiji Cheon-yeong's sleeve fluttered slightly.
Chime. The ornate ornaments near her wrist collided, making a clear sound.
She had never failed to possess what she wanted.
It starts now.
*
Should I call it a hunch? I don't want to call it a warrior's instinct.
What I've learned isn't impressive enough for me to call myself a warrior yet.
But I can clearly feel it.
The disappearance of any presence around me, the strangely silent street, and the houses with their lights out despite it not being that late.
The outskirts of Beijing, Shuntian Prefecture, Gwang-an Gate, West Grand Street. On this street that has now become all too familiar to me.
It felt almost ridiculous to be feeling this sensation in the very spot where Hwa-yeong was kidnapped.
Thump. My heart beats.
The mysterious Hao Clan expert.
The Eastern Depot, which must be using me to set a trap.
The Western Depot and the Assassination Pavilion, which must be targeting me from somewhere.
Everything is in the realm of deduction.
I no longer know how many groups are involved, whom to trust, or how far to trust them.
The Pure Stream Faction, the Hao Clan, the Eastern Depot—all three of them. If they decided to discard me like a worn-out shoe, they could do so at any time.
The moment I drew the attention of the Western Depot or the Assassination Pavilion, more than half of my utility would be diluted.
What remains is the image of myself I've shown so far.
I had to win over a corner of the Ten Great Sects of the Black Dao and a government organization using only the "future value" they could infer from that.
Standing on the edge of a precipice—everything is proven here.
Like a gambler's turning point, staking his life on one side and fiddling with the tiles while waiting for a higher number to come up.
That's why my heart is racing.
Conversely, the trembling in my hands subsides.
The cold sweat that had pooled dries quickly, and the dark street where the stalls have been cleared looks as bright as broad daylight.
Because the surroundings are dark, the stars shine even brighter.
To the point where it feels like the heavens are looking down on me.
My head was strangely clear.
And.
"I don't know if I should call this a relief."
Looking at the shadow standing at the other end of the street, a laugh escaped me, despite the situation.
"Or if I should think I've been cursed with damn rotten luck."
"Peng Hyeon-hwi."
It was a young body, not much different in height from mine.
A lithe and slender frame, wearing clothes so oversized that his sleeves were hidden, making him look almost comical.
An ordinary face you could see anywhere, with pale skin belonging to a frail boy who had never done a day's work outside.
And a presence so faint that I hadn't even noticed him until he suddenly appeared before my eyes.
"Won-ho."
Seong Won-ho. The eldest son of the Man-hong Merchant Group's leader.
The kid who was bullied within the academy.
The one no one paid attention to.
The one who always moved so strangely quietly that even I occasionally lost track of his presence.
Thinking back, he was always somewhere near me.
Whether it was the academy or the Martial Uncle's place—literally everywhere.
Click.
I tightened my grip on the hilt.
Since it was in a realm impossible to deduce, I wasn't angry about being deceived.
He probably hadn't enrolled with me as his target in the first place.
He was already at the academy before I even registered at the Yeon-gyeong Academy.
Then why was an assassin from the Assassination Pavilion at the academy?
At the academy, there was Cheon U-rin, the core of the Pure Stream Faction's restoration plan.
Had the Assassination Pavilion figured out Cheon U-rin's identity? No, that wasn't it.
If they had known her identity, the government troops would have moved, not the Assassination Pavilion.
So it wasn't Cheon U-rin.
The most suitable target for the Assassination Pavilion—having entered the service of the Noble Consort and founded a new organization—to show as their first move.
A position that could warn the Pure Stream Faction, pressure the Eastern Depot, and leave a huge impression on the Beijing nobles—
"Joo Hoe-seong?"
"Correct."
Joo Hoe-seong. The legitimate eldest son of a Prince of the Blood, who couldn't even be reappointed to office but was building ties with young nobles to create a network.
Killing that kid within the academy would have been a move to shatter the relationship between the Pure Stream Faction and the nobles.
And by bad luck, I enrolled; by even worse luck, my guards were always staying at the academy.
And by incredibly, horribly bad luck, he became friends with me and drew the attention of my guards.
When they tried to execute the plan on the day of the Winter Solstice Poetry Meet—which would have the greatest effect on "building an impression" with the nobles—they were discovered by my guards...
"Haha."
"What's so funny?"
"The White Lotus Cult wasn't targeting us after all. It had nothing to do with them from the start. You killed the Peng Family warriors, so you had to erase the traces. Since we happened to be at war with the White Lotus Cult at the time, no one would have suspected a thing if you pinned it on them..."
I'd like to put it this way.
We both had damn rotten luck.
Shring.
I drew my blade and rested it diagonally over my right shoulder.
My left hand was already wearing a gauntlet, so I reached it forward slightly and leaned my body to complete the stance.
"Let me ask one thing."
"Go ahead."
"How did you do it?"
"Huh?"
"It should have been impossible for you to kill five of our guards silently with your skills. Let's hear how you actually did it. We thought the White Lotus Cult had brought in some Peak Realm master."
With the Hebei Peng Family scouring all of Hebei like they were hunting rats, the White Lotus Cult couldn't have possibly smuggled an asset on the level of a Peak Realm master into the Peng Family's front yard. I had wondered how on earth they did it.
It was an impossible task from the start.
The White Lotus Cult currently has no influence left in Beijing.
They're busy enough just avoiding the Peng Family's eyes, let alone the Hao Clan's surveillance.
It was truly a spectacular piece of shadowboxing.
At my question, he gave a smirk and shrugged.
"Didn't it occur to you that I might be that skilled?"
"No, it didn't. Your stance, your attitude, your behavior. Even if you've learned stealth or lightness arts well, they're absolutely not at a level that could work against our family's retainers."
A Peng Family warrior is treated as being one stage above their actual realm.
Third-rate is treated as second-rate, second-rate as first-rate, and first-rate... to the point where they can exchange blows head-on with a Peak Realm master.
The five dead warriors were all first-rate martial artists.
Even with a surprise attack, it's something that would only be possible for someone at least at the Peak Realm.
At that moment, something came to mind.
The drug used by the Western Depot.
The drug that was said to turn a second-rate into a Peak Realm master in just one month.
"It's the drug."
"Oh, where did you hear that? That was quite a secret even on our side."
"Does that drug have a time limit or something? Because right now, you definitely don't look like you're at that level."
I slowly moved my feet and approached him.
At that momentum, he tucked his hands into his wide sleeves.
Stopping at a distance where a blade could reach within a couple of steps, I slowly scanned him.
"Take it."
"What?"
"I'm telling you to eat that damn thing right now, unless you want to die like this."
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Hao Clan Leader!!"
I ignored his question and shouted harshly.
It was half a gamble. There was no guarantee that the martial artist the Hao Clan had attached to me was the Clan Leader herself.
It didn't matter. As long as the message was conveyed—
And being half a gamble also meant I was half certain.
"Do not interfere!!"
"Hao Clan Leader...?!"
While he scanned the surroundings with a look of shock, I took a step forward.
Slash!!
Clang!
Sparks flew between him and me.
A short dagger collided with my blade, and they bounced off each other.
Tracing that trajectory with my eyes, I gauged the length of the dagger he held and said, "I told you to eat that drug right now. This is your last warning."
"Make me."
"Fine."
Before his faint smile could even vanish, I bent my waist and lunged into his embrace.
I tracked the fluttering of his wide sleeves with my eyes, struck down the flying daggers emerging from within with my gauntlet, and calculated the distance between us.
One step. I blocked two daggers with my left hand: Heart-Protecting Fist.
Two steps. I twisted my waist into a bow shape and drew thunder from my dantian.
His gaze turned toward my gauntlet, which was pulled back.
An inch gathered into a foot. Drawing that distance in an instant: one punch.
Iron-Breaking Hammer.
Boom!!
The gauntlet was blocked. Both of his hands clamped down in front of my gauntlet.
Thinking he had succeeded in defending, the corners of his mouth twisted upward.
He looked strangely relaxed.
How dare he.
Whoosh!!
The blade resting on my shoulder twitched.
Rising straight toward the sky, a flash of lightning plunged down like a mountain lord aiming for the exposed neck of its prey.
Hunyuan Blade.
Clang!!
Third-rate. No, maybe second-rate? Since he's a couple of years older than me and an assassin carefully raised by the Assassination Pavilion and the Western Depot, he might be at that level.
His reaction speed and strength in the clash of blades already exceeded those of his age group.
He was hesitant in delivering internal energy.
I could see a shimmering haze of light on the dagger he was using to block my blade.
Sword Qi Formation. Right, so you're around second-rate.
Strictly speaking, a martial artist who has entered the path and can deliver internal energy while learning the forms and techniques of martial arts is considered third-rate.
Therefore, my realm could be considered third-rate as well.
However, a warrior of the Peng Family can always exchange blows head-on with a martial artist one level above them.
"Kh... ugh!"
Screeeech!!
My blade bit into the edge of his dagger, the sound of twisting metal ringing out.
At a distance blocked by a single blade, I looked into his face and spoke.
"Eat that drug right now."
And then, I said the words that all Peng Family warriors—all those who had fought only for the family in its 200-year history, those who had entered the Martial World vowing revenge for their kin—had said, and absolutely had to say.
"I've come to collect the blood debt."