Chapter 26 - Wu Wei
Dozens of years ago.
Muheo, an elder of the Wudang Sect, was not only the leader of the Wudang Seven Swords of his generation but also one of the finest young experts in the orthodox Murim.
Though short in stature and unimpressive in appearance, his understanding of the sword and the depth of his inner energy were more than a match for the seasoned masters of the jianghu.
"The next Heavenly First Sword will emerge from Wudang."
The martial artists of the world believed without doubt that he would be the next Heavenly First Sword.
Perhaps by the time Muheo ascended to the position of Wudang sect leader.
Expectations ran high that he might dismantle the Four Emperors, burn the Demonic Cult to the ground, and lay the world at the feet of orthodox Murim.
But did the ways of the world ever unfold as planned?
Muheo, at the height of his fame, lost his heart to the young palace lord of Okhwa Palace at the Dragon Phoenix Assembly.
And he was rejected coldly, in front of countless onlookers.
"Young palace lord! Just tell me why you hate me! Me! I am Muheo! The future sect leader of Wudang and Heavenly First Sword of the world—that man is me!"
Muheo, who had never known defeat in his life, was so shocked by the young palace lord's refusal that he made a fool of himself before the entire jianghu.
Naturally, the young palace lord—one of the Five Peaks—drew a firm line with icy eyes.
"Why! Tell me the reason you find me so repulsive!"
"You're too ugly."
"······!"
And so Muheo strayed from the path of the Heavenly First Sword,
becoming one of the Four Freaks.
The Dao Destroyer.
Shiiiiek!!
Fast.
A figure that had looked like a mere dot amid the cloud of dust rising like a storm appeared in the plaza in an instant.
Jin Muhon drew his sword.
Kaaaaang!
Sword met sword.
A fierce shock traveled up his arm.
Jin Muhon yielded two steps back, letting the force flow away.
Deep footprints etched into the ground amid the dust.
"Well, well? You blocked it?"
The man who had appeared with astonishing lightness skill spun in midair as Jin Muhon parried his strike.
His tattered Daoist robes fluttered like a top, kicking up a swirling vortex of dust in a perfect circle.
Thud.
Landing lightly, the man first checked on the fallen Cheongpung.
"Hey, you brat. You dead? Dying so young already?"
A voice wizened yet brimming with childlike mischief.
As the dust settled, the newcomer's form came into view.
A small stature, slightly hunched back.
An old man who seemed awkward to call a "man."
"Huh? What is it? Some geezer?"
"Shh! Didn't you see that lightness skill? He's a master! Shut your mouth!"
The martial artists on both sides whispered, eyeing the newcomer.
"Elder!"
"Tch."
Ha Cheolgun, lord of the Iron Blood Society, greeted him gladly.
The old man clicked his tongue and ignored him.
His snow-white hair was tied carelessly, strands sticking out like a ruffian's; his nose tip flushed, as if he'd just come from drinking.
Were it not for the lightness skill just displayed and the sword in his hand, he'd pass for any shabby old drunk from the marketplace.
The elder of Wudang, the Dao Destroyer Muheo.
"Let me see."
Muheo slipped off his shoe and pressed his dusty toes to Cheongpung's nose.
Even unconscious, Cheongpung grimaced and squirmed.
"Ughhh···."
"Ho! Still alive, eh."
Muheo nodded nonchalantly and slipped his shoe back on.
Then, scratching his rear with the sword hilt, he slowly turned.
"Right. Which son of a bitch did this to my grand-disciple···hu···?"
Muheo's words trailed off.
His beady eyes widened round, his gaping mouth slack enough for flies to buzz in and out.
Whoooosh!!
Suddenly, a fierce gust erupted outward from Muheo at the center.
The wind exploded in all directions, kicking up a cloud of dirt like a blooming storm.
"Whoa! What's this wind?!"
"Careful, my lord!"
The plaza's martial artists staggered in the whirlwind, shielding their faces.
It was hard to keep their eyes open. Dust battered eyes and mouths.
Forgotten were their resolves to see blood; they clung to one another just to avoid being blown away.
"Let go, let go! You bastard!"
"Hold tight!"
Moments later.
The wind died, and the dust cloud settled.
Cough cough—coughs erupted here and there.
Few remained standing in place.
"Whew. That wind was filthy strong. You alright, my lord?"
Bang Cheolsan, who had braced against the wind holding Chukang's waist, blinked. Tears streamed from dust-filled eyes.
"Put me down! Bang Cheolsan!"
"Got it."
Bang Cheolsan set Chukang down, rubbed his eyes, and scanned the battlefield.
"Huh? Where'd everyone go?"
The spot where Jin Muhon and the old Daoist had faced off moments ago.
Only faint dust swirled; no one was there.
"That damned demon bastard! Thought he was dead!"
Muheo flew with mad lightness skill, Cheongpung slung at his waist.
Swallow-like swiftness, riding the wind.
It was Yeoncheong Eighteen Flights, a Wudang lightness skill renowned for speed but rarely mastered due to its heavy inner energy drain.
Shrieeek!!
Body light as a swallow, inner energy one with the wind.
Inner energy surged endlessly from his dantian; dense trees blurred past.
Yet even so, he couldn't fully shake Jin Muhon.
"Whoa! That persistent fucker!"
Glancing back and startling, Muheo reached the Yangtze bank and leaped toward the river.
Whoosh! Thud! Whoosh! Thud! Whoosh! Thud!
"Eek!"
"Wh-what?!"
Muheo bounded across fishing boats floating on the Yangtze.
Each landing rocked the boats.
Fishermen's screams burst from everywhere.
'That boat's a bit big.'
About thirty feet ahead. A larger vessel at last.
Big enough for ten men; two fishermen were hauling nets.
"Heave-ho! Lend us your boat a sec, brothers!"
Muheo soared toward the fishing boat.
The two fishermen gawked at the approaching Muheo, mouths agape.
Then—
Shrieeek!
A menacing whoosh, sharp energy bullet aimed at Cheongpung.
"Damn!"
Muheo hurled Cheongpung toward the boat midair.
Cheongpung arced through the air.
"Amitabha!"
Muheo stomped his left instep with his right heel, spinning in midair.
His Daoist robes snapped as he whirled.
Splash!
Cheongpung, wingless, plummeted into a pile of fish on the boat.
Fish burst with a squelch, fishy stench spreading.
"Aigoo! What manner of thunderbolt is this!"
"All the fish are smashed!"
"Hey! Wake up! What're you gonna do about this!"
The fishermen shook the unconscious Cheongpung.
He didn't stir.
Thud.
Muheo landed on the boat like a single swallow.
Soon, Jin Muhon appeared at the stern.
"Mm···."
If Muheo was a swallow, Jin Muhon was a hawk.
His lofty poise, as if he'd been there from the start, made Muheo frown as he sized him up.
'They said he lost his inner energy··· The Demonic Cult bastards must've played tricks again.'
Despite sprinting full tilt over a great distance, Jin Muhon's breathing was undisturbed.
His fathomless eyes were as indifferent as ever; the pitch-black sword from hilt to sheath in his grip only amplified the menace.
"········."
"········."
Their gazes locked in the air.
A heavy tension crushed the boat.
The grumbling fishermen clamped their mouths shut under the pressure, retreating to a corner to watch warily.
"W-we're not gonna die, right?"
"Shh! Quiet!"
The two fishermen huddled in the corner.
'Did that bastard··· target me from the start···?'
Even Muheo, who mocked the world and lived by his whims, couldn't relax before the Sword Demon.
Cold sweat trickled down his wrinkled back for the first time in ages.
His shriveled fingers tensed.
Watching Muheo a moment, Jin Muhon finally spoke.
"Long time no see, old man."
"···Hahaha! Who'd have thought we'd meet here. Good to see you, Sword Demon."
Muheo chuckled, subtly shifting his left foot forward.
He glanced at Cheongpung.
'What trick did he use···.'
His breathing and pulse were steady, no doubt.
Yet Cheongpung, beaten by Jin Muhon, remained out.
'Sword Demon.'
Meeting those inscrutable eyes, Muheo recalled that day seven years ago.
Eyes that hadn't lost reason even devoured by the demonic sword.
That relentless scent of death.
Had the Sword Demon not slowed his blade at the last, Muheo and Cheongpung would've died then.
Even borrowing the demonic sword's power, a win was a win.
Wudang's top swordsman had lost to the Sword Demon.
'Come to reclaim the lives you spared.'
Muheo closed then opened his eyes.
For some reason, his body felt languid and heavy today.
A life without regrets anyway.
If the Sword Demon wanted it back, he'd give it gladly.
But unlike his worthless self, Cheongpung had a bright future ahead. He had to save the boy, come what may.
Muheo inched another step toward Cheongpung.
"········."
Jin Muhon's pitch-black pupils followed.
"Hahaha! Sword Demon! Since fate brought us together, how about docking for a bowl of rice wine? I know a tavern run by a fine widow. Lost her husband, poor thing!"
Muheo narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his sword.
Ready to unleash sword energy at the first opening.
But,
'Openings··· why so many?'
Too many gaps made attacking tricky.
Unaware or not of Muheo's intent, Jin Muhon leaped from the stern, closing the distance.
Muheo startled back a step.
Eying Muheo's rusting, neglected blade, Jin Muhon drawled.
"Don't call me Sword Demon, old man."
"Why?"
"I left the cult."
"········!"
Muheo's eyes bulged.
Clash swords in a life-or-death bout, and you'd know the opponent.
The Sword Demon wouldn't lie with a blade to his throat.
"The rumors were true?"
"Yes."
"You really! Got kicked out of the Demonic Cult?"
Jin Muhon's brow twitched faintly.
"I walked out."
"Then your inner energy! They said you lost that too!"
The corner of Jin Muhon's mouth curved up subtly.
His opponent was a Wudang elder.
Considering potential clashes with orthodox sects later, best to clarify his position.
No need to spill every detail, though.
"As you see."
"Mm···jianghu rumors can't be trusted··· But getting booted from the cult? That's real!"
"I walked out, I said."
"Right! Yeah! Hahaha!"
Muheo threw his head back, guffawing.
Jin Muhon watched silently.
Sloppy as he seemed, this was a Wudang elder.
Seven years ago.
One who forced out the demonic sword's power.
Even so, Jin Muhon figured Muheo wouldn't buy it.
How could anyone believe the Demonic Cult's vice leader got exiled? Inner energy intact, no less.
'His energy feels stronger. Won't be easy.'
Longtime foes: righteous and demonic.
Truth or not, words alone wouldn't convince.
To claim what he wanted, he'd have to take it by force.
Jin Muhon drew inner energy from his upper dantian, hand on hilt.
Thud!
"········?"
But then.
Muheo sheathed his sword without hesitation.
His ugly face split into a broad grin.
"Hahaha! So we're on the same side now? Ha! Allies with the Sword Demon. Solid!"
"···You believe me?"
"Huh? You trying to fool me?"
Muheo blinked his small eyes.
Jin Muhon shook his head slightly.
'Definitely not right in the head.'
His eyes told the truth.
Muheo genuinely trusted him.
Alone—no, with his supposed grand-disciple—storming the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains, he'd pegged him as a mad old coot.
Still, half-mad beat the stuck-up orthodox types.
Jin Muhon dropped his hand from the hilt.
"Why'd you beat that kid black and blue? He's weak compared to you."
"It just happened."
"Right. Yeah, it did."
Muheo nodded, doubts cleared.
Jin Muhon found it absurd instead.
"Life's like that—things just happen. That's wu wei. Seven years ago, we just happened to meet; that thread led here, chatting like this. Hahaha! Say, ever thought of joining Wudang?"
"Pass."
"Shame. With a couple hundred years' training, you might make Sword Immortal. A Sword Immortal is—"
"········."
Once started, Muheo spouted nonsense endlessly.
His earnestness even drew the cornered fishermen's dazed attention.
"—that's the Dao itself."
"········."
"Whoa! Look at me rambling. Getting old—sleep less, talk more."
Muheo grinned.
His wrinkled face creased deeper.
"That stone face of yours hasn't changed. Now that you've left the demonic path, practice smiling."
"········."
Jin Muhon stared silently.
"Ahem! Hm!"
Embarrassed at last, Muheo coughed, then broached carefully.
"By any chance··· do you want something from me?"
Only then did Jin Muhon nod faintly and speak.
"Sword arts. Elixirs."
"Sword arts··· elixirs?"
Muheo's small eyes blinked rapidly.
"You want Wudang sword arts? You, the Sword Demon?"
"Yes."
"········."
As Muheo's mouth gaped in shock—
"Ughhhh···."
Cheongpung stirred amid the fish pile.