Chapter 66: The Mountain Called Qingcheng (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 66: The Mountain Called Qingcheng (1)
“So, here you all are.”
A tall man was descending to the first floor.
Unlike yesterday, he looked remarkably presentable. His face had been scrubbed clean, and his tattered rags were replaced with proper attire, transforming his entire aura.
“You’ve come, Martial Uncle,” Seok Myeong greeted him with a bright expression.
The man’s face contorted into a grimace the moment he saw Seok Myeong. “Was it you who scrubbed me down like this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought you looked much better this way.”
“A waste of effort,” the man grumbled. “I’ll only be filthy again by tomorrow.”
“As long as you are with me, you will always carry yourself with dignity.”
“Hahaha!” The man let out a short, dry laugh, seemingly not entirely displeased by Seok Myeong’s stubbornness. Taking a seat, he gestured to the table. “Let’s eat first.”
Clatter, clatter.
As if on cue, dishes began to arrive in a steady stream. Seok Myeong had clearly ordered in advance, timing the service for his arrival.
The man began to eat without further word. Of course, he didn’t forget his basin-sized jug of liquor.
“Um, Martial Uncle…”
When Seok Myeong tried to start a conversation, the man paused.
“Right, right. Where did we leave off yesterday?” He continued shoving food into his mouth without a care in the world, subtly prompting Seok Myeong to continue.
But before Seok Myeong could speak, Cheol So-yeon cut in. She was faster than his question.
“How did you block my dagger?”
“Oh, that? With my shoulder.”
“Your shoulder? How could you block it with just your shoulder? It was so fast you shouldn’t have had time to circulate your internal energy.”
“It wasn’t internal energy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I used External Styles.”
“...!”
At those words, Seok Myeong’s head snapped toward him.
The very subject he was currently obsessed with—External Styles—had been brought up by the man in a completely unexpected context.
“Martial Uncle? Are you saying you truly used External Styles?”
“Indeed.”
“How? How did you use them?”
“Well, you see… urgh.” The man leaned back in his chair. Most of the food had already vanished. Everyone leaned in, hanging on his next words.
“I only answer one question per meal.”
After dropping that deflating remark, he stood up. The group was left staring at him with blank expressions.
*
“You still have to tell me why you abandoned the sword.”
Seok Myeong followed Song Yeo-guk as he stepped out of the inn. The rest of the group followed close behind.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I do.”
“Then buy me lunch.”
“Pardon?”
“Buy me lunch, and I’ll tell you.”
“Then will you also tell me why you’re wandering around like this?”
“To hear that, you’ll have to buy me dinner.”
“...”
Seok Myeong stopped in his tracks, looking at him, dumbfounded. However, Song Yeo-guk continued walking with an utterly shameless expression.
Perhaps his agreement to the duel was simply a ploy to get free drinks, Seok Myeong thought as he hurried to catch up.
Come to think of it, within a sect, one does not usually duel someone of a different generation. Yet, as a fellow disciple of Qingcheng, he had accepted. Seok Myeong wondered if the man’s goal wasn’t the duel itself, but rather the perks that came with it.
His suspicion was rapidly turning into a conviction.
Lost in these thoughts, they wandered through the marketplace.
“Ah!”
It happened just as they turned a corner into an alleyway. A woman collided with Song Yeo-guk, who was leading the way, and tumbled to the ground.
“I am so sorry!” The woman, who appeared to be a common housewife, apologized immediately.
Song Yeo-guk stood up without a word. In that moment, the woman froze as if she had seen a ghost. Standing in the middle of the path, she stared at Song Yeo-guk with a look of utter bewilderment.
“E-Estate Owner?”
It was a voice filled with a sob—a sound of deep, agonizing yearning.
“Who are you?” Song Yeo-guk asked awkwardly. He seemed flustered by the woman’s reaction.
“E-Estate Owner? It is you, isn't it? You are Estate Owner Song, right?” The woman asked over and over, her hands trembling with uncontrollable emotion. “Estate Owner Song Yeo-guk! It really is you, sir!”
“Who are you…” Song Yeo-guk could only repeat the question, at a total loss.
“Sir… hic … Sir!”
Suddenly, the woman began to wail. She sobbed so violently that the gazes of everyone passing by were drawn to them.
Then, Song Yeo-guk’s eyebrows twitched. As if a buried memory had suddenly surfaced, he spoke urgently. “A-Aunt Yeon?”
“Yes, it’s me, Estate Owner. It’s me!”
“Aunt Yeon? Why… why are you here? Why are you crying like this?”
He finally recognized her. He grabbed the weeping woman’s shoulders, his voice tight.
She slowly managed to choke out the words. “The people of the estate… everyone…”
“What happened to them?”
“Sob… Estate Owner Song…”
“Tell me quickly! What happened to the people of the estate!” Song Yeo-guk’s face flushed red as he began to shout. The playfulness and lazy gestures were gone in an instant.
“They were all taken away.”
*
Martial artists of the Jianghu always tried to categorize the legends known as the Hundred Great Masters by their specific traits. Titles like ‘Star,’ ‘King,’ or ‘Freak’ were born from this desire to label—representing whether a master was flashy, magnificent, or bizarre.
However, in taverns and tea houses, there was a title spoken of more often than Star, King, or Freak: the Twelve Guests.
They were the wanderers who traveled aimlessly and alone, performing deeds more brilliant and bold than anyone else. They were the ones discussed immediately after the Ten Great Masters whenever people gathered for drinks.
The most recent addition to the Twelve Guests was the Swordsman of Swift Wind.
The heroic tale of how he, consumed by rage, wiped out an entire allied force was enough to provide a thrill beyond mere satisfaction. The story went like this: a man who had trained for twenty years descended from the mountain and returned home, only to find his entire family slaughtered. In his grief, he tracked down and annihilated everyone responsible.
The group that killed his family was the Black Snake Union, and the man who took that revenge was the Song Yeo-guk standing before them now.
“The Black Snake Union suddenly raided us. They killed the men indiscriminately and took all the women and children. Fortunately, I was the only one who managed to escape, and I’ve been searching for you ever since! Ugh, waaaah!”
The woman wept even more sorrowfully as the horrific memories returned. Her desperate tears brought those watching to the verge of crying themselves.
Song Yeo-guk stared at the woman with hollow eyes. These were the people he had left behind. After wiping out the Black Snake Union for killing his family, he had given all his remaining wealth to the surviving servants and retainers.
“Is it truly them? You mean the people from the Black Snake Union!”
As if the echoes of the past were resurfacing, Song Yeo-guk finally lost control. Since he believed he had wiped them all out, the fact that the woman recognized them was of grave importance.
“I don’t remember the others well, but I saw him clearly.”
“Who was it?”
“He had long hair and a sword scar near his eye… and he used a Great Sword…”
“Hong Geom-baek!”
In that instant, Song Yeo-guk let out a guttural roar, his body convulsing. His eyes looked as if they might burst from the sheer pressure of his boiling rage.
The man who killed his wife and child. When Song Yeo-guk had struck him down, the man had identified himself by that name.
“How can that man still be alive!”
He had definitely killed him. His sword had pierced through the man’s heart. How could he have returned from the dead?
“Is that a name you know?” Seok Myeong asked Cheol So-jin cautiously, wondering if she recognized him since he was from the Unorthodox Faction.
“It’s impossible not to know him,” Cheol So-jin replied grimly. “He’s called the ‘Dancing Blade of the Moonlit Ocean.’ He’s a renowned master in Shaanxi.”
Just as Cheol So-jin finished her explanation, the woman began to wail again, pounding on Song Yeo-guk’s chest.
“What have you been doing, Estate Owner? What on earth have you been doing all this time that made you so hard to find? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wandering for the past month?”
“...”
“What do we do now? What will become of us? What are we to do…”
Song Yeo-guk took the woman’s hands. He didn’t say he was sorry, but his eyes said everything. “I will take care of everything.”
“...”
“I will handle this without fail! So do not worry any longer!”
“Estate Owner…” The woman gripped his hands, tears falling once more. It was enough. Now that she had found him, it was enough.
*
“To think that man was truly the Swordsman of Swift Wind…”
Cheol So-jin, who had been watching, shook her head as if she still couldn’t believe it. In the past, a figure had appeared who was like a natural enemy to the Unorthodox Faction. He was so famous that her grandfather, Cheol Mu-jin, had personally warned her about him.
“If you ever encounter the Swordsman of Swift Wind, avoid him at all costs.”
And now, she had met him in this broken state. She had never seen the phrase ‘the vanity of life’ apply so perfectly.
Whoosh!
After helping the woman up, Song Yeo-guk suddenly vanished. He had completely disappeared from their sight using an incredible Body Lightness Law.
Seok Myeong, Hyeok-jin, and Cheol So-jin were stunned. They were shocked to see that Song Yeo-guk truly possessed such martial prowess.
However, their shock lasted only a moment.
“Huh?”
“Cough, cough…”
The group, who had hurriedly followed, found him collapsed under a nearby roof.
Dumbfounded, Cheol So-jin clicked her tongue. He had vanished like a gale, but he only made it a few dozen feet?
“Truly… he is something else.”
“We must move him first!”
Sensing that something was wrong with his body, Seok Myeong quickly hoisted him onto his shoulders and headed straight for a nearby inn.