Chapter 34: First Mission (3)
Chapter 34: First Mission (3)
The distance from Anhyeon to Pyeongseong, where the Divine Spear Yang Family was located, was a two-day journey by horse.
Since the journey required stopping at inns along the way, the path the Flying Tiger Pavilion martial artists would take was predictable. If I followed the main road, I could catch up to them.
I patted the neck of my overheating horse and scanned the surroundings.
There are too many Beggars’ Sect members.
Even on the outskirts of Anhyeon, too many eyes were fixed on us. They merely watched from a distance as we departed along the main road, but then—
Flutter, flutter.
I saw about half a dozen pigeons take flight into the sky. Narrowing my eyes and focusing my vision, I spotted small slips of paper tied to their legs. Carrier pigeons.
They’re heading toward Pyeongseong. They’re tracking our position.
I toyed with the dagger in my shirt before stopping. It might have been possible when they first took off, but with them already that far away, I’d be lucky to hit even one.
I recalled the wuxia novels I used to read leisurely back in 21st-century Korea. They often mentioned a siege tactic called the "Inescapable Net." Was this what it felt like?
I couldn't just slaughter the Beggars’ Sect members. Unless they attacked first, I had no justification, and even if I did, it would be meaningless. There were simply too many of them to wipe out. Even a "no-knot beggar" who hadn't learned a lick of martial arts could send a message as long as they had eyes, ears, and hands. And those people were currently crawling all over the path we intended to take.
Thanks to the damn administrative reach of medieval China, the roadsides were overflowing with beggars and refugees. There was no way to distinguish between a no-knot beggar, a commoner, and a genuine beggar living hand-to-mouth. The Beggars’ Sect had survived that way since the Song Dynasty.
Like parasites.
The first village on the way from Anhyeon to Pyeongseong came into view. Even before we arrived, beggars were swarming the village outskirts, and as we entered the gates, pigeons took to the sky once more.
As we passed through the village and returned to the main road, I turned to Chwi-san.
"We need to split up. We can't keep going like this."
"What?"
"Even if we both go to the Flying Tiger Pavilion martial artists, what we have to say is already decided, and there's no point in me going alone. I doubt they’d even listen to me, and even if they did, there’s no way to recall the reinforcements already sent to the main house. You go, Senior."
"And you?"
"You take control of the Flying Tiger Pavilion unit heading straight for Pyeongseong. Slow them down as much as possible, and if you can, pull them back. I’ll take the mountain paths and race to Pyeongseong. I’ll wait at the entrance and block the combat units from entering."
"What about your horse if you aren't stopping at inns?"
"I’ll have to run. What, did I accumulate internal energy just to make soup with it?"
At my words, Seong Chwi-san furrowed his brows, lost in thought. In the distance, a small stream—a tributary of the Yellow River—was visible. As we spurred our horses toward the bridge over it, Chwi-san spoke.
"In terms of accumulated internal energy, it’s better if I go. To bypass the Flying Tiger Pavilion on the main road by foot, you’ll have to run without rest."
"Fortunately, I’m quite confident in my stamina."
"Do you have a specific lightness art you’ve learned?"
"You’ll keep it a secret from the family, right?"
"The Hao Clan, I assume. Fine then. Do you know the way?"
"Elder Peng Ik-cheon practically hammered the geography of Hebei into my head. Once I cross the river, I’ll immediately—"
Before I could finish, Seong Chwi-san violently yanked the reins of his galloping horse. The horse reared up, nearly having a fit. Under the strength of his arm, infused with powerful internal energy, neither horse could resist and both came to a halt.
A martial artist stood in the narrow pass of the road leading onto the bridge. He held a spear wrapped in cloth diagonally across his body, smiling leisurely.
"Are you the ruffians from the Peng Family’s Sanyue Hall?"
"The Yang Family is using rather aggressive tactics."
"The Strategist told us to eliminate any variables, so what choice do I have? He said the positions of the Flying Tiger Pavilion brats and the small fry coming out of your Peng Family are clear, but your sudden, hurried movement seemed suspicious."
"You talk too much. That’s a good attitude."
"I’ve been itching for a fight after waiting here all afternoon. And besides..."
The martial artist spun his spear half a turn and gripped it. It was a remarkably smooth motion. The spearhead flexed elastically, gleaming under the midday sun.
"You’re all going to die anyway, so what does it matter?"
"Hwi."
"Yes, Senior."
"Even on foot, you’ll have to break through a perimeter. There’s only this one guy in this direction, but the people who planned this wouldn't be so careless with their surveillance."
"I see."
"If you’re afraid, it’s better we move together. It’ll just take some time to kill this fellow and move on."
"You take both horses, Senior."
"Heh."
As I hopped down from my horse, Seong Chwi-san grinned and leapt down as well. He drew his blade and rested it on his shoulder, stepping forward, while I tied my reins to a nearby tree and loosened my muscles.
"The Six Harmonies Pear Blossom Spear of the Divine Spear Yang Family is a martial art with history and tradition. It’s a spear technique focused on continuous strikes, making it tricky to deal with. Its length makes it hard to approach, and the moment you start to retreat, the offensive becomes even more dense."
"Well, isn't what we have to do the same regardless?"
"True. If there’s no path to life other than moving forward, we do what we always do."
The Peng Family’s martial arts do not teach movement or footwork for retreat. Even their lightness arts are mediocre at best. The disciples of the Hebei Peng Family spend the time others use for such trifles on mastering only one thing: advancing.
Doing as they always did—charging into the jaws of death to find a path to life.
If they fail to find that path and die, the family seeks revenge. But if they can find even a single thread of life within that fierce death zone where the enemy's arts are laid out, they will surely kill.
That is the spirit of the Peng Family. It is the sole martial logic of their arts.
Every principle was developed to kill the opponent. Because their martial foundation does not harbor "righteousness," they are called the Unorthodox Faction. Because the purpose of their martial study is focused on killing, they are called the Black Path.
The Peng Family warrior walked toward the spearman. With his blade resting diagonally on one shoulder and his gauntleted fist hanging loosely, he strode forward like a bandit out to collect a debt.
Sauntering like a loafer, he spoke with a smirk.
"Seong Chwi-san of the Hebei Peng Family, Sanyue Hall."
"A piece of trash who couldn't even inherit the Peng name."
"The foundation of the Peng Family isn't some measly name, you idiot."
Seong Chwi-san grinned and gripped his blade tight.
"Every martial artist who walks solely for the sake of the family is the Great Hebei Peng Family."
The aura of a Peak Realm master scattered the dust on the road. A cloud of white soil swirled between the two warriors. The spearman had also reached the Peak Realm.
Thump, thump, thump. The atmosphere vibrated with an aura that mimicked a heartbeat. The massive internal energy pulsing from their Middle Dantians was manifesting physically. Their hair drifted upward on its own, and their sleeves fluttered even where there was no wind.
At the very moment each grain of dust shattered the sunlight—
—Pshhhht!—
The spearhead, thrust in an instant, aimed for Seong Chwi-san’s heart.
Clang!
The gauntlet struck the spear shaft as he continued his stride.
I watched Seong Chwi-san’s back for a moment before taking a deep breath. It was a day and a half’s journey to Pyeongseong by horse. How long would it take on foot?
I braced myself, circulating True Qi into both legs. Instead of the familiar Mountain King Steps, I bounced my body a few times, stepping on the dirt according to the footwork I had practiced in my spare time.
Seven Shadow Immortal Step.
A footwork specialized for escape. Recalling the mnemonics of the technique the Hao Clan Leader had given me, saying it would be useful for staying alive, I pushed my internal energy into my legs.
Boom!!
The gravel on the road shattered as my figure blurred past the riverbank in an instant.
I thought as I ran.
The Orthodox Martial Alliance was trying to use the Divine Spear Yang Family as a sacrifice to weaken the Hebei Peng Family. This much wasn't hard to accept.
But there was something else I truly couldn't understand. The martial artist who provided the first spark—the Squad Leader of the Flying Tiger Pavilion’s 4th Squad, Peng Jeong-gyeon, a master at the beginning of the Peak Realm. Why on earth did he join hands with the Divine Spear Yang Family?
Whether the Martial Alliance’s plan succeeded or failed, he was in a position where he had no choice but to die. He might not even be alive anymore. He had served his purpose, and the trouble of keeping him alive would outweigh any benefit.
Seong Chwi-san had spoken of warriors who betray the Peng Family.
Connections, grudges, martial arts.
I wondered what kind of price had to be paid for such a thing to be possible. What kind of condition could entice a master who had trained deeply enough in the family’s arts to awaken his Middle Dantian?
"Here he is! The Peng Family’s... Guhk!!"
A martial artist lying in ambush near the bushes with a sword lost his throat and fell. However, his dying scream echoed long across the mountains in the deep night. Soon, torches flared up here and there across the terrain.
They’ve gathered quite a lot.
Individually, they were insignificant third-rate martial artists. They weren't ronin meant to stop Peng Family warriors who deviated from the planned route, but rather tools meant to scream out a location even as they died.
For a group claiming to be an Orthodox sect, their scheme was sinister. They had unleashed these ronin knowing full well they would die. How many Great Clans were involved in this?
If that was the case, well, perhaps they had been promised some peerless Divine Art. I didn't know what a "Divine Art" felt like in this pseudo-medieval Chinese Murim, having never encountered one, but for now...
"F-Found him! Everyone, over here!!"
Slash!
A ronin collapsed before he could finish his sentence. Where the blade passed, brush and flesh were severed simultaneously. The diagonal mark left by the blade ran deep.
I had never wished for a peerless Divine Art, and it was hard to even imagine one. But at the very least, the martial arts I had learned were no less than that.
"Whew—."
The Hebei Peng Family blood flowing through my veins felt as potent as any divine elixir. Or so it felt.
The time I spent on 21st-century Earth felt like a distant memory. It felt alien how I had no hesitation in cutting and killing people.
It felt like my blood was boiling. I had to struggle to steady my breathing to keep from screaming. It was as if I were addicted to this gamble of life and death held with a piece of cold iron. Not to the killing itself, but to the results created by moving my body through martial arts.
This is why the Peng Family became a Black Path Unorthodox sect.
I chuckled and started running again. It would be troublesome to be swept away by this feeling. I wasn't some hot-blooded adolescent boy. I was a scholar who had read books, a person from a 21st-century world of civilization, intellect, and rationality. At the very least, I shouldn't be on the same level as these sword-wielding serial killers.
Tap!
During the time I spent sprinting while utilizing the power of the Seven Shadow Immortal Step, I had plenty of time to think while watching the night sky and gauging the geography. Since sleep was out of the question anyway, I ran with the mindset of going on a hike.
A Murim hike. One where I had to dodge the blades of the "crew" running alongside me. A bit intense.
*
No matter how much the Han people enjoyed banquets, and no matter how high the status of a 70th birthday celebration was in their culture, this was crossing the line. The festivities had been going on for nine days already.
Dissatisfaction was beginning to spread even among the invited guests. Each of them was a person of considerable influence in the Shanxi Murim, and their absence from their respective sects could not be ignored.
However, the influence of the Divine Spear Yang Family in Shanxi was no less than that of the Five Great Clans. It was a family with prestige, fame, and history enough to be called the leader of the Shanxi Murim.
Because of that, while the martial artists of small and medium sects were quietly swallowing their complaints, Murong Cheong was walking through the outer garden with a bored expression.
"It’s hot, humid, and vulgar."
Liaoning, where the Murong Family was located, was a cold and barren region. No matter how hot the season, a gallop across the vast plains on horseback was enough to make one forget the midsummer heat in that dry land.
To her, the Central Plains were too hot. Even the Shanxi region, which was relatively northern, was the same. She wasn't used to land with such a high population or pavilions packed so tightly they felt suffocating.
She walked through the outer garden, looking around at the ancient walls of Pyeongseong. Since she had come all this way, she figured she might as well see the sights to her heart's content.
While doing so, she spotted a group of beggars running in a hurry.
"The Beggars’ Sect...?"
It was a group that included two-knot beggars. It seemed like there might be something more interesting than the tedious banquet. She moved lightly, leaping over the roofs of the pavilions as she ran through the streets of Pyeongseong.
Very few people looked up at the roofs late at night, and the Murong Family’s Single Leaf Fall was one of the top lightness arts in the Central Plains; she didn't make even a tiny sound as she stepped on the tiles of the old pavilions.
She dove into the night streets as silently as a shadow. And soon, her footsteps stopped.
"The smell of blood. In Pyeongseong, where the Divine Spear Yang Family is holding a banquet...?"
The thick scent of blood stimulated her sense of smell. She quickly lay flat on a roof and moved toward the scent. Although there was no land under heaven without Black Path sects, this was strange. Wasn't this a situation where a Great Clan like the Divine Spear Yang Family had invited famous figures of the Orthodox Faction from all over Shanxi?
Rather than causing a disturbance at a time like this, wouldn't it be better to just strap on a sword and jump into the Forbidden City in Beijing?
Soon, a darkened manor came into her view. It was a fairly grand courtyard house built on a large plot of land, but it was a desolate place without a single light. The smell of blood was seeping out from within.
Beggars swarmed into the manor, and a moment later—
Crash!!
The door of the main building was violently smashed open, and a figure flew out. Several beggars who had gone inside quickly surrounded him as they rushed out.
The Beggars’ Sect is an Orthodox sect, so are they trying to capture some public enemy of the Murim?
Due to the dark night and the considerable distance, she couldn't clearly see the person's features—except for the fact that he held a blade glistening with blood.
Then, the clouds cleared. As the moonlight shone down, the interior of the manor became visible. And Murong Cheong froze solid.
"The martial robes of the Hebei Peng Family...!!"
The Peng Family robes, the dark ink-colored gauntlets, and the characteristically broad Peng Family blade. A warrior of the Hebei Peng Family was fighting against the Beggars’ Sect.
Murong Cheong quickly drew her sword and threw herself forward.
"How dare the Peng Family commit such an atrocious act in Shanxi!"
"....!!"
At Murong Cheong’s appearance, not only the Peng Family warrior but even the Beggars’ Sect members were shocked. They actually increased their distance from Murong Cheong as she attacked the Peng Family warrior, glancing at each other for a moment.
The Peng Family warrior, who had fended off Murong Cheong in a single breath, also looked visibly flustered. He furrowed his brows, scanning Murong Cheong and the Beggars’ Sect members repeatedly.
"A foreigner...? No, the Murong Family. Ha, so this is how it turned out. You people dare...!!"
As the Peng Family warrior growled, the Beggars’ Sect members exchanged looks before approaching Murong Cheong. They carefully kept their distance and spoke to her.
"How did the Young Lady of Murong end up here... Did the Strategist inform the Murong Family of the plan as well...?"
"What do you mean? I am taking a walk. I took. I take... Ugh..."
Murong Cheong stammered in the Han language before giving up. It was no use jumping in without her uncle. It didn't seem like any of them knew how to speak the northern dialect.
She counted on her fingers, wondering if she should try writing. As she did, the Beggars’ Sect members began whispering among themselves.
"It looks like she just got caught up in this. What do we do?"
"It’ll be trouble if we touch the Murong Family. The Strategist said not to inform them yet..."
"Hmm."
One beggar muttered while looking back and forth between the Peng Family warrior and Murong Cheong.
"What if we take care of both of them now and say that guy killed the Young Lady?"
"Tsk, I guess we have no choice."
The atmosphere of the Beggars’ Sect members changed abruptly. They each hid their weapons behind their backs and approached Murong Cheong with smiles.
"Um, Young Lady? It’s dangerous over there, so please come this way. Hehe."
"My Han language is poor. But I know. Listening."
"Pardon?"
"I can do 'clear'."
Swish!!
Murong Cheong quickly gripped her hilt and swung. By the time the lead beggar hurriedly blocked the blade and retreated, Murong Cheong was already atop the manor’s outer wall.
"Dammit, catch her!!"
"What about that guy?"
"I’ll handle him! Catch that girl!! If we lose her, we’re all dead!!"
As the Beggars’ Sect members scattered and lunged, Murong Cheong had already sprinted into the night streets. She bit her lip and grumbled.
"This is why I hate the Han people. Scheming, untrustworthy bastards. Whether they’re Orthodox or Unorthodox, they all act up the moment they pick up a sword."
It seemed she had been caught up in some sort of wicked scheme typical of the Han people. She was poor at the language, but she wasn't stupid. She leaped over the outer wall of the Divine Spear Yang Family’s estate and ran toward the guest house.
When she burst into the VIP room of the guest house—the quarters provided for the Murong Family—she saw her uncle talking to someone.
"Where have you been? Hmm...? The scent of blood. Are you hurt?"
"It’s not my blood... and who is this gentleman?"
"I am called Zhuge Un, Young Lady. It seems the fame of the 'Flower of the Murim' was not in vain. It is an honor to meet you."
"You know the northern dialect...?"
"It is not such a difficult language."
The middle-aged man, who had the air of a scholar, smiled gently at her. Murong Cheong unbuckled her scabbard from her waist and entered the room. However, Murong Jeon, who had been waiting for her, stood up and put an arm around her shoulder.
"We must return now."
"Pardon? Uncle, but..."
"If we stay longer, there will be much unpleasantness. Strategist, I must decline your proposal."
"Haha, Great Hero Murong. This is an opportunity to uproot the Black Path of Hebei. Isn't your choice a bit hasty?"
"We do not work that way. No matter how much we desire Yan, we do not do at night what cannot be done during the day."
"The Jinzhou Eon Family has agreed. If the plan proceeds as intended, Hebei will be taken by the Jinzhou Eon Family and the Huangfu Family."
"If they wish to do so, let them."
Murong Jeon walked while holding his niece’s shoulder protectively. No one tried to stop them until they left the outer garden. Murong Cheong whispered to her uncle in a low voice.
"I saw a Peng Family warrior fighting the Beggars’ Sect. Inside this city. The beggars even tried to silence me. You know what’s going on, don't you, Uncle?"
"The Martial Alliance intends to burn the Divine Spear Yang Family to the ground. We’ve been caught up in a pointless affair."
"I’m sorry... I don't quite understand..."
"It’s not for you to understand or know. We have no need to associate with such conspiracies. Remember the family rule. What do we not do at night?"
"Do not commit at night what cannot be done during the day. Yes, Uncle."
The uncle and niece of the Murong Family passed through the gates of the Divine Spear Yang Family. And Zhuge Un, watching them from a distance, shook his head.
"Strategist. What shall we do?"
"Dispose of them. If those two die in Hebei, what can the Murong Family do? In fact, this works out better."
At his words, a man in black bowed and withdrew. In the now-quiet guest house, Zhuge Un slowly scanned the surroundings before leaving.
*
"Whew... huff..."
I had arrived in the vicinity of Pyeongseong. I had covered a distance that would take two days by horse in a single day by crossing the mountains. The greatness of a straight line. I felt like Hannibal.
"To think I’d be doing... huff... a mountain march again."
One night-time mountain march in the army was enough. Damn medieval China.
I walked while pressing down on my screaming limbs to loosen them. This was enough. No matter how things turned out, if I could turn back the Peng Family combat unit coming up this road, my job was done.
Thinking that, I flopped down beside the main road. I would have liked to perform some meditative breathing, but if I tried to accumulate energy here, I’d be asking to die. This was enemy territory.
I was taking a cloth from my bag and carefully wiping the clotted blood off my blade when—
Clang—!!
Boom!!
"Goddammit."
The sound of a sword fight broke out in the distance, forcing me to stand up again. Even Somalia would be a warmer neighborhood with fewer gunshots than this.
They say a scholar should renew himself every day, and this place was certainly living up to its reputation as the birthplace of Confucianism. The public security of this pseudo-medieval Chinese Murim was a new experience every single day.
I moved toward a group of martial artists who were frantically swinging swords at each other under the moonlight. I’d just check what was happening and then bail; it might be a part of the Peng Family combat unit that had arrived early.
In the place I walked to, I came face-to-face with a woman holding a sword and a middle-aged man.
I came across a group of men in black, swords spinning as they surrounded the pair.
"Hmm."
They didn't look like warriors from the Hebei Peng Family, and they certainly didn't look like those "friendly" faces from the Orthodox Faction.
Ah, just another night of traditional Chinese street culture, I thought.
"Don't mind me, gentlemen. Please, carry on. I'll just be on my way."
I gave a polite nod and tried to back away.
"Damn it! Get him!"
"Goddammit."
I gripped my hilt as I watched one of the men in black lunge toward me.