Chapter 27 - Peach Garden Oath
“Ughhhh...”
Cheongpung slowly rose to his feet.
But it wasn’t a normal movement.
It was grotesque, as if he’d been yanked upright by invisible strings dangling from the air.
His face was deathly blue, and his eyes were bloodshot red, as though blood might drip from them at any moment.
“Huh? What’s wrong with that guy?”
Muheo blinked as he stared at Cheongpung.
Cheongpung’s head slowly turned.
The creaking of bones drilled into their ears.
Whoooosh!
A wind blew in from the Yangtze River just then.
The stench of fish and thick blood assaulted their noses.
And then,
Cheongpung’s crimson pupils fixed on Jin Muhon.
[Sword... Demon...]
His voice was low and trembling, like something crawling up from the underworld.
The mere sound sent chills down their spines; the two fishermen huddled together, shivering uncontrollably.
“U-U-Uh, mister!”
“Shh! Quiet! Shh!”
[Sword... Demon...!]
Thud!
Cheongpung took a step forward.
The boat rocked violently as a foul murderous intent rippled outward in concentric waves. The calm waters churned wildly, and the ducks floating on the river flapped away in a frenzy.
‘Qi deviation... No. Possession?’
Jin Muhon watched Cheongpung’s condition with interest.
Whatever it was, the solution was simple.
Shing.
Jin Muhon drew the Sword of the Four Emperors halfway.
As expected, without blood mist, no wails echoed.
But then.
“Aigoo! You little punk!”
Whoosh! Smack!
Muheo had somehow closed in on Cheongpung and slapped him hard across the face.
Cheongpung’s body tilted and he crashed back into the pile of fish.
Splat!
Fish flew everywhere, thickening the fishy stench.
“You damn Taoist! Getting possessed in broad daylight! What the hell!”
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Bam!
Muheo mercilessly stomped the fallen Cheongpung.
His qi-infused feet hammered into Cheongpung’s stomach, back, buttocks, and shoulders without mercy.
Yet Cheongpung flailed his arms, trying to rise again.
“Ughhhh!”
“Prime Celestial Venerable!”
Muheo focused his Taoist power and delivered a finishing blow.
Bam!
Cheongpung’s head snapped back, red blood spraying into the air.
The two fishermen’s gaping stares followed the blood upward.
The droplets sparkled like jewels in the sunlight.
Splat!
And so Cheongpung lost consciousness again, sprawling spread-eagled on the fishing boat.
Bubble. Bubble. Bubble. Bubble.
Boiling tea. A soothing sound that calmed the mind.
‘Mm...’
Slightly regaining his senses, Cheongpung extended them outward.
A bitter herbal scent hit his nose first.
‘I was fighting the Sword Demon...’
For seven years, he’d trained the Wind Thunder Sword to defeat him.
He’d abandoned elegance for pure speed to pierce the demonic sword’s defenses.
But seven years of effort had been for naught; the Wind Thunder Sword hadn’t fazed the Sword Demon.
And the Sword Demon hadn’t even gone all out.
‘But why... am I lying down now?’
Cheongpung slowly opened his eyes.
An unfamiliar ceiling greeted him, along with excruciating pain surging through his body.
“Kuhk!”
“Oh! You’re awake?”
A woman’s voice came from beside him.
Cheongpung shot up and reached for his sword.
But it was gone.
“Th-this!”
He frantically scanned the room.
Han Sowol, who’d been heating the medicine, paused and blinked her large eyes.
“......”
“......?”
Her neat attire and refined beauty.
For a moment, Cheongpung forgot his situation and locked eyes with her.
Han Sowol smiled brightly and pointed to the corner.
“Looking for your sword? It’s over there.”
Cheongpung’s head turned slowly.
His mind raced.
“This is... a clinic?”
“Yes. The Jin family head brought you in after you lost consciousness.”
“Jin... family head? Who’s that?”
He tilted his head at the unfamiliar name.
“Oh! You don’t know? He must’ve rescued you from some trouble. So compassionate...”
“...Pardon? Besides this Jin family head... was there no one else?”
Han Sowol snapped out of her reverie and clapped her hands.
“Right! Your grandmaster was with him too!”
“Ah! Really? Where’s my grandmaster now?”
Cheongpung’s face lit up.
He didn’t know who this Jin family head was, but if he’d been with his grandmaster, it had to be the head of a righteous clan.
‘Did they... kill him?’
The thought of the Sword Demon dead left a strange unease in his chest.
But Han Sowol’s words dispelled it instantly.
“He went out drinking, I think.”
“...Pardon?”
“Drinking.”
“......”
Cheongpung was speechless.
That night, at the Ghost Soul Sect.
The Ghost Soul Sect and Iron Blood Society, who’d been ready to settle things with a duel, were suddenly throwing a feast thanks to Muheo’s mediation.
“Hey! Stop scowling and have a drink!”
“Get lost.”
“Heh heh! You lost the duel, so no hard feelings later. It’s a farewell drink—bottoms up!”
“What! You evil sect bastard!”
“What? You son of a bitch? This punk’s mouthing off outta nowhere?”
A full moon hung over the rooftops.
The courtyard, laid with drinking tables, was a mess of roasting meat smoke and warriors’ shouts.
Ghost Soul Sect members snored face-down on the ground, Iron Blood Society men scowled, some grabbed collars and shook each other, while servant girls bustled about delivering food.
They’d emptied the stored liquor barrels and were hauling in more from nearby taverns.
“Hm. It’s noisy outside.”
“Indeed.”
When burly men gathered to drink, fights were inevitable.
Especially two factions who’d just spilled blood together—trouble could erupt any moment.
In the family head residence, Chukang and Iron Blood Society Leader Ha Cheolgun sat across from each other at a table, tense and uneasy.
Drip drip drip drip.
Muheo, his nose already red, eyed them slyly.
“Huh? Why the funeral faces? Society Leader, you don’t like booze?”
His words reeked of alcohol.
“N-no, Elder.”
“Here. Drink.”
“Yes. Ack! Cough! Cough!”
Muheo grabbed Ha Cheolgun’s head and forced the liquor down his throat.
“Guh! I-I’ll drink it myself!”
“Yeah?”
Ha Cheolgun’s long beard was soaked in seconds.
Watching from right in front, Chukang struggled not to laugh.
‘Acting all dignified alone. Serves you right.’
Then his eyes met Muheo’s.
“Burp! Chukang, was it?”
“Ah! Yes! Elder!”
Having heard Muheo’s identity, Chukang knelt and bowed his head.
Jin Muhon was scary, but this was a Wudang elder.
A ragged old man like him—a mere evil sect nobody—shouldn’t even tread in his shadow.
“You’re young, why aren’t you drinking?”
“I... was drinking fine?”
“Oh? Then drink more.”
“Pardon? Wait! Glurk!”
Whoosh— Muheo vaulted over the table and poured Ha Cheolgun’s leftovers straight into Chukang’s mouth.
Chukang choked and gulped it down.
Clink!
Muheo set down his cup triumphantly.
“There! You two shared booze now—get along from here on!”
“Yes! Cough!”
“......”
Chukang bowed with a drained look.
Ha Cheolgun’s face darkened.
“What? Don’t like my words?”
“Elder, it’s not that, but...”
“Tch! Be grateful you’re still alive. Did you really think you could take Yichang?”
“......?”
Ha Cheolgun stared at Muheo in confusion.
Muheo, dropping the playfulness, pointed seriously at Jin Muhon at the table’s end.
“You don’t know who that friend is, do you? Aigoo, can’t even say it. Anyway, when his eyes flip, even I can’t stop him. Hell, the Murim Alliance Leader couldn’t either!”
“Pardon? Who on earth is he...”
“Who else! He’s the Swor—!”
Jin Muhon’s eyes flashed.
Sharp killing intent pierced Muheo’s throat.
Muheo, caught up in the moment about to reveal it, somehow swallowed and shut up.
Ha Cheolgun leaned forward, waiting.
“What was that? Swor...?”
“Swor...”
“Swor...?”
Ha Cheolgun’s mind raced.
If a Wudang elder spoke of him that way... no way!
“Sword—!”
“Sword Pavilion’s secret master!”
Muheo quickly covered it.
Ha Cheolgun’s eyes widened.
“Sword Pavilion...?”
“Yeah! Sword Pavilion! They don’t go out much, so not well-known, but you’ve heard of it, right, Society Leader?”
“Ah, yes. Famous for its Pavilion Master the Sword Comet...”
“You know it! That’s the one—a master from Sword Pavilion! Unknown to most of the jianghu, but famous among us experts!”
“I... see.”
“I’m telling you! Don’t you trust me?”
Ha Cheolgun wasn’t fully convinced, but with a Wudang elder vouching so hard, he couldn’t press.
He rose and clasped his hands toward the silently seated Jin Muhon.
“Pleased to meet you. Ha Cheolgun.”
“Likewise. Jin Muhon.”
Jin Muhon returned a light clasp.
Muheo’s eyes bulged in surprise.
“Well, well? You’re doing fist salutes? You really are from there!”
“Shut up already.”
“A-alright.”
Muheo clamped his mouth at Jin Muhon’s heavy words.
Ha Cheolgun couldn’t hide his shock.
‘Not an ordinary man after all.’
Hard to buy the Sword Pavilion story wholesale.
But if Muheo treated him that way, he was no pushover.
With such a backer for Ghost Soul Sect, his dream of taking Yichang was dead.
“Hey, hey. Why’s the mood suddenly like this? Am I the weird one?”
Silence fell; Muheo lifted his head and started babbling again.
“So, you two will get along, right?”
“Of course!”
“Yes, Elder.”
Muheo shook his head at their firm answers.
“Nah. You’ll pretend and fight again. Fine! Since we’re at it—swear brotherhood!”
“Pardon?!”
“...What?!”
Chukang and Ha Cheolgun jumped at Muheo’s madness.
Even Jin Muhon gaped in disbelief.
“Elder... Chukang and I have a big age gap. We’ll get along without needing to be sworn brothers—”
“No! You need the Peach Garden Oath to trust each other!”
“P-Peach... Garden Oath?”
“Yeah!”
Muheo sprang up and drew his sword with a shing.
The drunken mad old man with a blade made Chukang and Ha Cheolgun scramble back.
Jin Muhon’s hand went to his sword hilt on the floor.
“What’s age between true friends! No peach tree, but my red face is peach-like—perfect for Peach Garden Oath! Let’s mingle blood!”
“W-wait!”
“Ugh!”
Slash! Slaaash!
Muheo lightly nicked their cheeks.
The sword was so fast they couldn’t even dodge.
He collected the drops in a cup, poured liquor in.
Red blood swirled in the white liquor.
“Drink! Ha Cheolgun! Chukang! You’re older, Cheolgun—cherish your younger brother Chukang! Chukang, honor your elder brother! Help kin in peril with your life, die the same day even if born apart! If one dies first, peach tree me will kill the other! Drink! What’re you waiting for!”
In the end, Chukang and Ha Cheolgun teared up and downed the blood-mixed cup.
Thus, the blood enemies Ghost Soul Sect and Iron Blood Society became blood brothers.
“Hahaha! This is the golden mean!”
Muheo guffawed, then abruptly stopped.
He eyed Jin Muhon meaningfully.
“Will you share blood with me?”
“Scram.”
“...Hohoho! If you say scram, the peach blossoms must fall! Of course! Hehehe!”
Jin Muhon furrowed his brow slightly.
Dao Destroyer Muheo.
After seven years, he seemed even madder.
Whoosh!
Muheo body-flickered beside Jin Muhon.
Dishes and bottles on the table crashed to the floor.
“Whoa!”
“Careful, brother!”
“You too, little brother.”
Chukang and Ha Cheolgun were already “brother” and “little brother,” cleaning up.
Ignoring them, Muheo leaned close to Jin Muhon’s face.
Despite the booze stench, Jin Muhon stared down impassively.
Muheo grinned and whispered.
“There’s something better than swordsmanship... Interested?”
Muheo’s small eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky.