Chapter 92: Wuchang Martial Alliance Gathering (2)
Chapter 92: Wuchang Martial Alliance Gathering (2)
East Lake is a massive freshwater body that occupies nearly half of Wuchang’s sprawling territory. While it serves as an inland port due to the tributaries of the Yangtze River flowing through it, no ships sailed during this season, as the waters were frozen solid.
Instead, the lake was dotted with crowds enjoying ice fishing and leisurely Huazu folk admiring the frozen scenery. From the pavilions lining the water, the savory scent of roasting meat and the sharp aroma of alcohol wafted through the air even in the middle of the day.
The refinement of enjoying such a view from above the vast lake must be extraordinary. Among those walking between the structures, half of them carried blades at their waists, as if desperate to signal to everyone that they were martial artists.
“Now, now, don’t be so tense. You’re stiff as a board.”
“I think you’re more nervous than I am. Why? Want me to shout that Peng Hyeon-hwi is here?”
“Are you—are you insane? You have a tendency to treat your life far too lightly! There’s more than one or two people holding a grudge against you after that business in Shanxi!”
“Like who?”
“The Zhuge Family and the Beggars’ Sect definitely have a bone to pick with you. The Huangfu Family hated your house to begin with, and the Shaolin Temple goes without saying, doesn't it?”
Hmm. Shaolin.
Actually, they were the biggest problem. Those baldies and my family are practically sworn enemies.
It all goes back to what our founding patriarch did. That man personally climbed Mount Song, burned down the Sutra Library, and made off with the Five Tiger Single-Door Blade. In the process, Shaolin’s 72 Ultimate Techniques were supposedly reduced from their original 108.
To make matters worse, our family’s direct lineage secret technique is still the Five Tiger Single-Door Blade. This means that despite stealing it, we didn't even bother to change the name. It’s the ultimate form of teebagging.
From Shaolin’s perspective, it’s enough to make them grind their teeth to dust. There’s a reason we didn't expand toward Henan Province during the Righteous-Demonic War. If we had crossed that border, the war would have reached its "End of Service" the moment it started.
The second we stepped into Henan, the Shaolin monks would have greeted us with a "Welcome!" before smashing our heads in. And by "heads," I mean the literal skulls of our third-generation ancestors.
You might ask, Couldn't you have won? Aren't you being too cowardly?
Don't be ridiculous. Among the Three Venerables of the World, the Divine Monk was already called the Divine Monk back then. He was a master of the same generation as our third-generation patriarch, and even in those days, he was widely considered to be a level above him.
“What do you want to do first? Since this is your first time in this city, you should feel honored that a precious daughter of the Murong clan is personally guiding you!”
“What are you talking about? Do you think we’re here on vacation?”
“What?”
I glanced at the departing group from the Cheon Merchant Guild and whispered softly.
“Cheon Hwa-ryeong of the Jiangnan Heavenly Merchant Guild—is she someone you know?”
“...Why do you ask?”
Murong Cheong’s gaze became exceedingly suspicious.
“Are you perhaps interested in Lady Cheon?”
“I’ve never seen her before, but she seemed to recognize us. I just had a bad feeling about it.”
“Aha. Well... you are a direct descendant of the Peng Family who’s become quite famous in the Orthodox Faction lately. And my family has always had ties with the great merchants of Jiangnan. Perhaps that’s why?”
“I hope that’s all it is.”
At my words, Murong Cheong’s expression brightened slightly, and she gave me a hard thwack on the back.
“It’s usually a delusion to think that every daughter of a noble family is paying attention to you. You’re not that special.”
“Hey, who are you calling a delusional patient?”
What is she, a middle schooler going through puberty?
As I grumbled, Murong Cheong giggled and led the way.
“Hurry up and follow me. Wuchang is very, very large with plenty to see. Personally, I prefer the tea houses over the taverns. Drinking tea while overlooking East Lake is quite poetic.”
“Sure, sure.”
I followed behind the chattering Murong Cheong, scanning our surroundings.
More than half of the crowd here were martial artists, and most of them belonged to the Orthodox Faction. Wearing the Peng Family’s martial robes in the middle of this felt a bit chilling.
Fortunately, they were somewhat soiled from our recent travels, and since few could imagine a Peng warrior appearing here in the first place, no one paid us any mind.
If you set aside prejudice, the Peng martial robes actually look like a common type of black attire. Especially if the signature red collar is stained and dirty.
Yes, I could relax a little.
By now, Brother Murong Jeon should have arrived at the Martial Alliance headquarters with Hyeong-shin’s head. The situation with the Jinju Eon Family would begin to be discussed by the Murong Family, and since it involved the Four Righteous Envoys, it would be treated with significant weight.
There were two main things I needed to do in this city.
First, if there was any hitch in designating the Jinju Eon Family as public enemies of the martial world, I had to denounce them from the Dragon Slaying Alliance’s position.
Second, when the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering began, I had to deliver an overwhelming performance under the name of the Hebei Peng Family.
I wasn't worried about the latter. Among those my age, the number of martial artists who had reached the Peak Realm in the entire Central Plains could be counted on one hand. At that level, everyone is more or less similar—and if everyone is similar, the Peng warrior is always the strongest.
I was lost in these thoughts while following Murong Cheong toward a tea house when it happened.
“Hey, kid.”
A raspy, aged voice seemed to tickle the back of my neck.
It was the sensation of hearing the low growl of a predator crouched in the tall grass.
“Is your name Peng Hyeon-hwi?”
“Who might you be...?”
Turning toward the voice, I saw an old man plopped down in a corner of an alley, looking up at me. He was clutching a worn staff and wearing a grimy red tunic.
An old man with a chipped bowl placed carelessly on the ground and a curly white beard tied loosely—he looked exactly like a beggar.
Oh, shit.
I had to reflexively suppress my hand from gripping my sword hilt. This was the heart of the Orthodox martial world, and it wasn't difficult to deduce this old man’s identity.
It wasn't because I recognized his face. It was much simpler than that.
It was because there were nine knots tied around the beggar’s waist.
No one else in the Central Plains would dare to maintain such a provocative fashion statement. Especially not here, in Wuchang.
“Look at those eyes darting around. You’re an interesting fellow.”
One of the Fifteen Lords of the World and one of the Four Righteous Envoys.
The Sect Leader of the Beggars’ Sect, the Beggar Immortal Chwiun-jang, Gwak Jin.
A peerless master who roamed the four seas, whose exact location was known to no one except a tiny handful of Beggars’ Sect elders.
That legendary figure gave a crooked smile, untied the knotted sash from his waist, and wrapped it around his staff.
“Well, I wore it to be seen, so there’s no harm in you seeing it.”
“To what do I owe the honor of meeting the Beggar Immortal...?”
“I have something to ask. Can you spare a moment of your time?”
“Time is the one thing this Peng has in abundance. Please, speak.”
I spoke while standing tall, yet offering a polite bow. Even if I was vastly outranked in the martial hierarchy, I was superior in the social hierarchy of scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants, so I decided to only bow halfway.
Chuckling at my attitude, the Beggar Immortal spoke as if tossing out a casual remark.
“The rumors about you are quite intriguing. Some say you are surprisingly friendly toward the Orthodox sects for someone raised under the Hebei Peng Family. Others say that because of you, the Peng Family has begun to cooperate in earnest with the government. And then... there are those who say you are a lawless and cruel villain, a true direct descendant of the Pengs.”
“Which story do you believe, Elder?”
“You misunderstand the Beggars’ Sect. We are not those who ‘believe’ stories.”
The Beggar Immortal let out a soft laugh and looked me straight in the eye.
In an instant, the surroundings seemed to darken. Even though it was midday, the saturation of the world noticeably dropped. It was a pressure that made time feel as if it had stopped—a sharp, focused pressure directed solely at me.
I almost instinctively struck out with my middle dantian. Facing such a powerful opponent, the instinct sleeping within the Peng bloodline was screaming for a fight.
I’ll die if I do that. Calm down, heart.
“We are the ones who ‘create’ the rumors. Every rumor, every hearsay, and every kind of strange tale in the world flows from the mouths of a million beggars. We don't believe. we choose the stories we want our fellow martial artists to believe, and we are the ones who spread them.”
“Oh.”
So they’re a public opinion manipulation team.
“In that case, which of the rumors about this Peng do you intend to spread, Elder?”
“Good. You’re a clever one.”
The corners of the Beggar Immortal’s eyes crinkled softly.
The Beggars’ Sect and the Peng Family... or at least, I and the sect had been linked by several ill-fated encounters. It was true in Beijing, and in Shanxi, the beggars had even conspired to incite tension between the Divine Spear Yang Family and the Hebei Peng Family.
The beggars of Hebei called me the "Beheading Blood Wolf." They had worked hard to instill the image of a ruthless and despicable Unorthodox villain, even spreading rumors that I ate human flesh and enjoyed decapitating people.
Naturally, to me, the members of the Beggars’ Sect were nothing more than annoying pests. However, the words I just offered the Beggar Immortal were different.
I was suggesting we bury the past and instead focus on the future.
What kind of relationship did he want to have with me?
What kind of rumors would he create? How did he intend to introduce the name Peng Hyeon-hwi to the Orthodox martial world? This was no different from a very loose proposal for a truce.
Even for the Beggar Immortal, Hebei was not exactly safe ground. No Orthodox martial artist could be truly "safe" in the territory of the Dragon Slaying Alliance. However, Hebei was the most populous land in the Central Plains, and consequently, it had no shortage of beggars.
From the perspective of the Beggar Immortal, who had to ensure the safety of all those beggars, he must have decided that winning over a direct descendant of the Peng Family was the best course of action.
“You certainly have guts. I suppose I can watch a bit longer to see which rumors fit you best. The Beggars’ Sect will not publicly denounce you here in Wuchang.”
“I thank the great senior for his generosity.”
“It must have been difficult for such a temperament to emerge from Peng Ik-jin’s bloodline. Haha.”
Just what kind of public image does my grandfather have?
As I thought that, the pressure dissipated. Murong Cheong, who had approached at some point, was looking at me with a bewildered expression.
“What are you doing here? Why aren't you coming in? Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to go in and start talking to myself?”
“I was just talking to the Beggar Immortal here for a second... Huh?”
Where I pointed, at the corner of the alley, there was nothing but an empty, chipped bowl rolling on the ground.
“The Beggar Immortal? What nonsense are you talking about?”
“Never mind. I must have seen wrong.”
“How on earth do you mistake someone for the Beggar Immortal? Do you even know what he looks like?”
“Yeah, I do now.”
I bickered with Murong Cheong as we entered the tea house.
*
“Isn't that Lady Murong?”
“The Pure and Clear Maiden?”
“Yes, brother.”
In the VIP room on the top floor of a massive tavern located in the center of East Lake, a group of young men were sipping wine as if the biting winter wind meant nothing to them.
This was a common sight in Wuchang with the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering approaching. It was a place where the rising stars of the prestigious Orthodox sects gathered. They all possessed enough martial prowess to be indifferent to heat and cold, and more importantly, they considered it a matter of pride never to show that they were affected by such things.
Instead, they enjoyed flaunting their refined appearances. They constantly circulated their internal energy to ensure not even a snowflake touched their expensive silk robes, showing off their clear complexions in the freezing wind as they enjoyed the festivities.
Just then, one young man turned his gaze toward the alley below the tavern.
“Indeed. It is the Pure and Clear Maiden. Hey, Jeong-yeong. Isn't your fiancée down there?”
“...How long has it been since that marriage talk was called off? Stop talking nonsense.”
“Well, it looks like Lady Murong has found a new suitor.”
“What?”
“Look. I’ve never seen that man before. Does anyone here recognize him?”
At his words, all the men at the table stood up and headed to the balcony. They saw the backs of two people entering a tea house: Murong Cheong with her light-colored hair, and beside her, a young man clad in shabby black martial robes.
He had a fairly imposing build, but with his rough, unkempt hair and worn clothes devoid of a single ornament, he looked like a warrior from a third-rate family.
And yet, the distance between them was far too intimate for them to be mere acquaintances. It was plain to see.
Crrrk.
Zhuge Jeong-yeong, the eldest son of the Zhuge Family, looked down at the scene, unconsciously crushing the wine glass in his hand into powder.