Smashing the Black Dragon Gate
'Tonight, I tear the Black Dragon Sect apart.'
It was a method Yun Cheon would never have chosen back when he wore the robes of Kunlun.
A wry, self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
'A night raid in the dead of darkness.'
It was the kind of act reserved for demonic cultists and the scum of the unorthodox path. A formal letter of challenge, courtesy and proper procedure — the Yun Cheon of the past would have believed, without a shred of doubt, that such things were the way of the righteous path.
'But I've grown sick to death of hypocrisy that's only skin deep.'
He remembered the Murim Alliance, stalling every decision behind procedure and lofty justifications. Yun Cheon had seen, with his own eyes, the true face hidden beneath that respectable veneer.
'I will no longer be bound by any of it.'
As Yun Cheon gazed up at the high walls of the Black Dragon Sect, his eyes had sunk colder than the chill night air itself.
The Black Dragon Sect was neither a den of grand evil nor a band of bloodthirsty killers. It merely collected challenger fees, extorted lodging costs from its guests, and propped up its ranking by using its underlings as shields. Its conduct was plenty crooked — but it was far removed from anything worthy of the strong.
'Calling them villains would be too generous. They're nothing but money-grubbing street rabble.'
Paying money at a ticket booth built by such vermin, queuing up politely, and waiting for dawn to break? That would be the truly idiotic move.
'When dealing with street rabble, there's no reason to cling to an orthodox sect's methods.'
Because there was a way that was faster, more efficient, and utterly certain.
The law of Survival of the Fittest that the demonic cult itself championed. Yun Cheon had decided to return that logic to the Black Dragon Sect — with a weight they could never hope to bear.
Before the massive main gate of the Black Dragon Sect, sealed fast against the night.
Wuuwoong—
The cold qi swirling in Yun Cheon's dantian converged at his fist's edge, condensing into a frigid jade light.
'No need to wait for the door to open. Smashing it works just as well.'
His right arm drew back, then shot forward like a lightning bolt.
KWAAANG—!
The thunderclap that ripped the silence of the night apart was as if a siege ram had struck a fortress gate. The massive main gate, a full span thick, crumpled like paper and burst apart. Wooden shards sprayed in every direction, and a cloud of choking dust rose like a storm.
Through the flying splinters and swirling dust, Yun Cheon walked in with unhurried ease.
"Wh-what the—!"
"What in the world is going on?!"
The warriors of the Black Dragon Sect, in the middle of a boisterous drinking party in the middle of their courtyard, were thrown into utter panic. Tables overturned, bottles shattered, and the sharp bite of liquor mingled with the smell of dust.
"An... an ambush!"
"What the hell is happening?!"
They scrambled about in utter confusion, unable even to grasp the situation. Then, piercing the thick cloud of dust, a lone figure strode calmly inside.
Black martial robes draped in darkness deeper than the night itself. And on his limbs, crude, enormous iron rings like those meant for a convict — the Black Steel Cold Iron.
Yun Cheon.
Clank... clank...
With every step he took, the heavy groan of iron echoed through the courtyard, chilling to the bone.
"Who... who the hell are you?!"
"Smashing the Black Dragon Sect's main gate — are you insane enough to want to die?!"
The branch hall masters of the Black Dragon Sect, their faces flushed red with drink, roared at him. But a few of the sharper-eyed among them glanced back and forth between the wreckage of the shattered gate and the lone figure of Yun Cheon, wariness plain on their faces.
"That thick door, shattered in one strike...?"
"Did he detonate a fire bomb?"
"Don't lower your guard! There might be more fire bombs!"
Watching them mutter among themselves, Yun Cheon let out a dry, derisive breath.
"Fire bombs, was it..."
As if the words weren't even worth answering, he gave the Black Steel Cold Iron on his wrist a light shake.
"I carry nothing so crude as that."
At those words, the Vice Sect Leader broke into a knowing smile and gripped his axe tight.
"He has no more fire bombs!"
As the Vice Sect Leader bellowed and whipped himself into a frenzy, the other hall masters took it as their signal and began to bristle with killing intent, all at once.
The bloodlust of dozens of warriors boiling over. Yet Yun Cheon's eyes only sank colder.
"Is the Sect Leader here? His name was... So Ryong, if I recall."
"You dare... you dare speak the Young Sect Leader's name with that insolent mouth?!"
Unable to hold back, the Vice Sect Leader hoisted his axe and charged.
"Your gall has spilled clean out of your belly!"
BOOM—!
The massive axe blade came crashing down, aiming for the crown of Yun Cheon's head. Power enough to split boulders in two.
But Yun Cheon didn't dodge.
No — he didn't consider the blow worth dodging at all. He simply flicked up his left arm, sheathed in Black Steel Cold Iron, the way one might wave off an annoying gnat.
CRANG—!
The axe blade met the black iron with a deafening explosion of sound.
Krak-kra-kak—
The heavy axe head shattered into fragments and scattered in every direction. The shards raked across the Vice Sect Leader's face.
"Wh— huhk?"
Into the vision of the Vice Sect Leader, frozen in disbelief, Yun Cheon's elbow bored in like a cannonball.
"Move."
The next instant, Yun Cheon's arm swung like some colossal weapon.
WHAM!
With a sickeningly dull impact, the Vice Sect Leader's chest caved in. His body shot backward like a shell. Flying with his sternum crushed inward, he plowed down three or four hall masters before finally slamming into the ground.
"V-Vice Sect Leader!"
It had all happened in the blink of an eye. Yun Cheon didn't spare the fallen man so much as a glance, merely loosening his wrist with a light motion.
Thud—
"I didn't kill him. I have no time to waste on small fry. Bring me your Sect Leader."
A simple strike — nothing more than a swing of his arm. But its power lay far, far beyond anything the Black Dragon Sect's warriors could comprehend.
"...!"
Silence fell over the courtyard in an instant. But perhaps it was the liquor talking.
"The bastard's alone!"
One of them shouted, and at that cry, the hall masters of the Black Dragon Sect — fear and stubborn pride tangled together — let out a frenzied roar.
"You... you son of a bitch!"
"Get him, all together!"
Clutching their weapons, the Black Dragon Sect's men charged from every direction.
'What a nuisance.'
Yun Cheon's gaze was indifferent, as though watching a swarm of irritating flies. He lowered his stance and coiled rotational force through his lower body.
Whirlwind Leg.
A martial art devised in his duel against Jeok Mu-gwang, then refined ever further riding on the load of the Black Steel Cold Iron.
Wuuwoong—!
A heavy wave of displaced air struck their eardrums first. His leg, centrifugal force heaped atop the crushing weight of the black iron, swept around like a whip.
SHRAAK—
Crash! Crunch!
"GYAAAAH!"
"My leg!"
"AAAGH, my arm!"
Swords that met the kick exploded; arms that blocked it snapped. With every single rotation Yun Cheon made, three or four grown warriors were reduced to rags and flung across the courtyard.
A catastrophe born of overwhelming mass and rotational force. It was not a duel. It was one-sided housecleaning.
The charging hall masters went flying, and the space around Yun Cheon was swept clean.
"A... a master!"
Only then did primal terror begin to frost over the eyes of the Black Dragon Sect's warriors. They understood now. This young man was nothing like the challengers who had come before. He was a beast among a flock of sheep, parting them with each stride. No matter how many swarmed him, they could never stand against him.
Yun Cheon stepped over the warriors groaning and crawling on the ground, and spoke low in the direction of the inner hall at the back of the training yard.
"Not planning to come out? Then I'll come in myself."
Just then, the doors of the inner hall burst open and a roar exploded out.
"What miscreant raises hell in another man's sect in the dead of night!"
A hulking man strode out. A face flushed with drink — but beneath it, muscles swollen hard as rock and skin darkened by the sun.
Sect Leader of the Black Dragon Sect, ranked 100th on the Wind Cloud Board. So Ryong.
"S-Sect Leader! Some lunatic showed up out of nowhere and is wrecking the place!"
"How dare they, of all the— hm?"
So Ryong's mouth, opened to bellow through his half-drunken haze, hung agape.
The shattered main gate. Dozens of hall masters sprawled and moaning. And at the very center of that chaos, Yun Cheon, standing with not a single speck of dust on his clothes.
'...!'
The sight of him sobered So Ryong up instantly.
'That man — his clothes are spotless...!'
Goosebumps crawled up So Ryong's spine. He had wrought all this devastation, and the man hadn't so much as quickened his breathing. What that meant was simple. He was on an entirely different level.
'...I've stepped in it. Badly.'
The 'instinct' that had kept him guarding the 100th seat, whittling down countless challengers, was screaming at him: fight him and you die. This wasn't a losing proposition — it was a trade that would cost him his life.
Above all, those eyes. They didn't regard So Ryong as an opponent at all — only as an irritating obstacle that needed clearing away. That very indifference was more terrifying than any bloodlust.
'...This... this has gone very wrong for me, I think.'
To survive, So Ryong rolled his eyes furiously.
"...May I ask who this honored hero might be, to come raising... ah, no. What... what business brings you here at this hour?"
So Ryong affected a show of dignity and asked in a trembling voice.
"I am Yun Cheon. Ranked 100th on the Wind Cloud Board. You would be So Ryong?"
"...Th-that's correct, but Lord Yun Cheon, there seems to be some misunderstanding — let us first speak of this calmly—"
So Ryong, sweating cold, forced a servile smile at the corners of his mouth — then rounded on his hall masters instead. This was no time for pride, not with the Black Dragon Sect's finest swept away like autumn leaves.
"You fools! Can't you see with your own eyes?! Clear those weapons away this instant and attend to our guest!"
"Yes? Y-yes, sir...!"
"My lord, if these fools have given any offense, I shall apologize in their stead! And offer proper compensation as well!"
But Yun Cheon shook his head with cold eyes.
"What I need is not money."
"Then... what is it you want?"
Yun Cheon's finger pointed straight at the space between So Ryong's brows.
"Your seat."
"...!"
So Ryong's pupils wavered.
Rank 100 on the board. It was no hollow honor. It was a goose that laid golden eggs — the money vein of the Black Dragon Sect, the very source of the wealth and glory So Ryong had savored over such a short span.
'I... I always knew a day like this might come...'
So Ryong was no fool. A man who had schemed to profit from the rankings in the first place had hardly failed to consider their dangers. But the man before him looked like a titan who would take the goose whole — after cutting the owner's throat.
'Fight him and I die...'
His instinct shrieked. So Ryong threw himself flat on the ground without a moment's hesitation.
"I—I concede! I accept my defeat and acknowledge your victory! Only spare my life, I beg you—!"
His lightning-fast reversal even drew a click of the tongue from Yun Cheon. But Yun Cheon did not soften his pressure.
"For the Wind Cloud Board's rankings to be updated, someone must witness the duel, no? If the two of us merely whisper among ourselves in the dead of night, come tomorrow people may well tell the story differently."
"N-no, sir! I would never dare...!"
So Ryong racked his brain desperately. If he was simply defeated and cast out like this, he would go down as nothing more than 'the fool who got raided in the night and lost his seat.' His honor, his money, his very life — all in peril. But wasn't crisis just another word for opportunity?
So Ryong's eyes gleamed like a merchant's.
'If the seat's going to be taken anyway... then let it be by that thing I've been saving, just in case!'
So Ryong cautiously raised his head.
"I... I have a proposal, my lord! How would this sound?"
"Speak."
"If the seat must be taken regardless, then I shall arrange it publicly, tomorrow."
So Ryong swallowed hard.
"Tomorrow morning, before a crowd of countless spectators, you will strike me down. In one stroke, you'll win renown throughout the realm — and I..."
He went on, hiding his cunning behind a servile smile.
"I remain the defeated man who reluctantly yielded his seat to the rising star of the martial world. I will lay the entire stage perfectly for you."
Yun Cheon's goal was to seize fame swiftly through the Wind Cloud Board. And for spreading word, a public duel was far more effective than a clandestine brawl in the night.
'A ploy to buy time, is it?'
The proposal was transparent to the bone. Still, it wasn't bad.
"Grant me just this one night's grace! By then, everything will be ready, I swear it!"
"Very well. But if you harbor any treachery—"
Yun Cheon gave a faint smile and tapped So Ryong lightly on the chest.
Ssshhk.
In that instant, a thread of frigid cold flowed from Yun Cheon's fingertip like a serpent, traveling down So Ryong's meridians and boring toward his heart.
"Huurk?! The cold— something's in my chest—!"
So Ryong clutched at his chest and turned deathly pale. Dead center in his breast was a jolting, alien sensation, like a shard of ice driven deep.
"Insurance. If the stage is set as promised tomorrow morning, I'll draw it out. But if you flee in the night, or entertain any treachery—"
Yun Cheon tightened the fist he held half-closed.
"—that cold will freeze your heart and burst it."
"...!"
It was no empty threat. His lifeline truly was gripped in this man's hand.
"Only I can undo the seal, so abandon any futile hopes."
"I—I will bear it in mind! Treachery? The very thought is absurd!"
So Ryong beat his forehead against the ground, trembling all over.
"I'm staying at the Black Dragon Inn. When the preparations are done, come there."
As Yun Cheon vanished into the darkness, So Ryong finally slumped where he stood, gasping for breath. His back was soaked through with cold sweat.
"Haa... haa... that shaved ten years off my life."
The icy, dead-heavy sensation lodged in his chest made the reality sink in. There was no hole to crawl out of. He couldn't win by fighting. That left only one road.
So Ryong staggered upright and dashed into the inner hall. He opened his secret vault and pulled out every coin of the fortune he'd been hoarding.
"I can't just sit here and take this lying down..."
Once his mind was made up, So Ryong's actions were lightning-quick.
"Hey! Get the messenger pigeons airborne, now!"
"Yes...? You mean the pigeons, at this hour of the night?"
"That's what I said! There's no time! Summon every hall master in the sect and erect a duel arena in the front courtyard! We're holding a public match!"
"Yes... yes?! This suddenly?"
"Move, move! And spread it far and wide — the Sect Leader himself is stepping into the arena, wagering his Wind Cloud Board ranking in open combat!"
"U... understood!"
That night, dozens of messenger pigeons rose from the Black Dragon Sect's loft and scattered into the night sky.
Back at the inn, Yun Cheon stood by the window, watching the Black Dragon Sect bustle below, and smiled faintly.
'The fellow might actually prove useful.'
Return of the Cloud Dragon
Author | Chu Sang (Autumn Frost)
Publisher | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Managing Editor | Editorial Department
Published by | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. — Dream Books
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