Voyage to An-hwi, Sword Holy Land
Seol Ha-yeon's goal for this trip? Obviously, a useful and powerful martial arts manual steeped in this world's unique flavor. Not some fist-fighting or pseudo-magic crap, but something about swordsmanship. So she asked.
"Slave."
"Yes."
"How do I get my hands on some good martial arts?"
"Looks like Yeonga Geombeop isn't cutting it for you."
"Duh. Hey, I'm not asking for the moon here—just one sword manual on the level of Taeguk Hyegeom and I'd be set."
Isn't that more than enough already? That was what Yongcheong thought, but he kept it to himself. The lump on his head from the recent knuckle-rap from Ha-yeon hadn't fully gone down yet. No point inviting more punishment when she wouldn't listen anyway.
"Kids. You got anything?"
"Huh?"
"Nah, just asking."
Ha-yeon's group included two little kids besides the adults, which made walking everywhere awkward, so they'd rented a carriage.
"An-hwi's supposed to be a big deal, huh."
"Yes. If we keep heading up a bit more and take a boat on the Jang-gang, we'll reach An-hwi Castle. That's where the famous Nangong Sega is based."
When people think murim, one faction you can't skip is Nangong Sega. Countless segas dotted the land, and folks loved ranking the standout ones—Seven Great Segas, Ten Great Segas, Five Great Segas, whatever. People just adored making lists and comparisons.
"At the very least, when it comes to sword enlightenment and study, they're top three in murim... if not the world."
But Nangong Sega's name stood out even more. Hwangbo Sega? Honest murim folk might not have heard of 'em. Moyong Sega? Yeah, vaguely familiar, but meh. Habuk Paengga? Sounds hearty enough. Still feels like they'd show up in some "Three Great Wanderers" list, not quite Three Great Experts material. Excluding the uniquely polarizing Salsung Dangga that drove fans and haters wild alike, Nangong reigned supreme among segas outside the Nine Great Gates and One Hall.
(For the record, Jegal Sega didn't even make anyone's "strongest sega" shortlist, but their prestige was sky-high. They aimed for supremacy over raw power anyway, and with all their imperial ties, they weren't a pure murim sega.)
Anyway, stripping away the trivia left one truth.
"Cheoncheon Nangong. I can't agree it's unbeatable, but its fame drew countless experts to An-hwi back in the day. That's why the region's packed with sword sects and swordsmen."
Not quite a sword holy land, but definitely on every swordman's must-visit list. Especially An-hwi Castle! That's where they were headed.
Of course, they ran into some bandits on the way, but they dealt with them quick. No need to bore with the gritty details— it'd just sound pretentious.
"Then we'll take our leave here. We wish you two great heroes smooth travels."
"Good work."
"Muryangsubul. Thank you."
With that, they headed to the docks to board a ship for An-hwi Castle.
"Hmm."
"What's up?"
"This Jang-gang's pretty damn big, huh."
At her words, not just the slave but the two sisters clutching her hands on either side gave her weird looks—like she had a headache or was a bit slow. Super disrespectful.
"What? Kids, why're you staring like that?"
"Um... Yuk-ryeong still likes Big Sis!"
"It's okay, it's okay, sis."
Everyone in China knew the Yangtze was massive and long. Hell, the name literally meant "Long River"—like saying "it snows in winter." Obvious as hell.
"C'mon, anyone could say that."
"No, milady. Ignorance isn't a sin—better late than never, right?"
"Just shut up."
"Yes."
Bickering like that, they scanned for a decent ship. With Master Ping's name and connections—plus Muadang's Cheongryong, Yongcheong—it was easier counting ships they couldn't board. And they had cash to burn. So why not pick something big and flashy for her, the kids, and the tagalong slave? Power was best hidden, but money? Hiding it just made life harder.
"The big ones have prices jacked up."
"Ships with pavilions on deck are called nu-seon. Food quality and cleanliness are decent for river travel, milady."
"Fancy places always guarantee a baseline, even if not full value."
No such thing as pricey without reason—or cheap without a catch.
They picked the biggest, flashiest one.
"That one."
"Yes."
A nu-seon with a four-story building on deck. They shelled out generously but didn't snag a VIP fourth-floor room—still, the spacious third-floor cabin felt just right.
"Heh. Been a while since I rode a boat."
"You've been on a boat before? Then how come you..."
"River, no. Ocean, yes. Hated the salty stink, though—haven't gone near the sea since."
They exchanged glances again. With the sea ban lifted ages ago, was she spouting nonsense or just wildly adventurous? Either way, prying wouldn't yield anything sane.
"Whatever. Can we get some drinks up here?"
"Haven't shipped out yet, but sure."
"Do it. Something sweet for the kids too—or fruit if not."
"Yes, milady."
The gentle rocking was oddly soothing—not seasick-inducing at all. Big ship, third deck—perfect view overlooking below. Ha-yeon could leap sky-high if she wanted, but there was something irreplaceable about boat vibes.
"Whoa! Wow!"
"...Scary."
Keeping the kids from the railing, she soaked in the scenery. Any aquatic monsters around? Her old knowledge hinted at yokai or whatever... but this ship's size screamed precautions. Come to think of it, no goblins or monsters since arriving here. Murim folk with swords probably wiped 'em out—or extinct?
Musing like that with booze in hand, a voice drifted from above.
"Haha. Why's a flower sipping dew all alone? No need to quench your thirst with low-quality dew in the shadows—care to come up top?"
Dew meant booze, shadows her third deck. Fancy invite to better drinks and sun. High-class flirt, and the speaker patted himself on the back for the clever wordplay.
"..."
Ha-yeon didn't get it. No clue it was aimed at her, or the subtle poetry. Voice from the fourth-deck railing? She just shrugged internally.
"Sis... someone's calling from up there."
"Me?"
"Yeah."
Pitying the awkwardly leaning boy, O-ryeong spoke up. Ha-yeon shaded her eyes from the glare and looked up. Yup, for her. She pointed at herself to confirm.
"Me?"
"Yes. Seeing you drink dew alone without proper snacks pained me, so I took the liberty."
Huh. Me it is. Slave was fetching snacks anyway—she could drink without 'em. Dropping her hand, her full face emerged.
"..."
The flirty guy shut up. Pretty from below, but only scalp, figure, maybe chin before. Back view hinted at beauty, but face-to-face? Heart-squeezing peril. One wrong glance and she'd ruin houses. Instinct nearly won before reason warned— he reined it in.
"Ahem. My apologies. So, what do you say?"
Ignoring his tongue-tied self-rebuke, Ha-yeon eyed the upper railing. His bold flirt drew a crowd—now everyone gawked at her deck like zoo monkeys, pointing and gaping.
Hmm. Squash 'em?
Hand drifted to her waist. But not kid-friendly, and she wasn't unhinged enough to swing over a mood dip. Plus, check those belts: swords, sabers, everyone armed. Intriguing. And what fancy grub awaited topside? Slave could track her qi anyway.
She clasped hands in a rough gonggi salute—standard greeting, right? Free booze from strangers? Always righteous.
"Mind if I intrude?"
"Haha! Smart choice, miss. Come on up!"
......
Up she went. Fourth deck screamed exclusivity—facilities a cut above. Booze spread, ornate furniture: like a high-society soiree on a galleon. She'd crashed a few; remembered the opulence, flashy rituals, skimpy outfits. Booze, meat, music, fun. Sex. Raw desires amid peak civilization—still vivid.
But these folks were dressed normally—no debauchery with passengers below. Decent crowd.
The young master approached right away, like he'd been waiting.
"Pleased to meet you, miss. I'm Moyong-dan of Moyong Sega. You seem murim folk—mind sharing your sect and name?"
Ha-yeon pondered. Free drinks earned politeness, but this felt like a full dossier. Next it'd be her panties' color.
"Ha-yeon. No sect. Uh, one-man lineage? That."
"Il-in jeonseung! Your aura screamed extraordinary from afar— a bearer of profound secrets!"
Moyong-dan's eyes flashed. Hesitant to name a sect? Probably fake—or real, but shady. True one-man lineages were inefficient weak sauce unless the arts were god-tier. Easy to die out, all cons no pros. Maintaining one screamed backstory: cursed techniques or criminal ancestors. Easy prey either way.
Guys who'd been eyeing from afar swarmed for intros.
"Paeng Jin-seung of Habuk Paengga."
"Hwangbo Jung of Hwangbo Sega."
Uh. Hi? Not thrilled, but manners called for nods.
"Hmm, nice to meet ya. Hwang Ik-jo of Hwangbo Sega, Hwangbo Hye—fellow no-names."
"Whoa, first one-man lineage I've seen... mind sharing the name? Rare enough in murim."
This one's fun. Sassy tone, but cute girl. Pretty and adorable turned whining into charm.
"Heh heh heh. Nice to meet you ladies too."
Ha-yeon grinned, sidling up. For handshakes, she covered their palms with her other hand.
Hwangbo Hye, the bold Hwang Ik-jo, flinched.
"Ahaha... nice to meet you. Caught my eye from below—your sect's got skin secrets, huh, Ha-yeon?"
Meanwhile, the ship's female martial artists seethed in unison. We flashed status and she doesn't bow? Acts equal? Steals our guys' eyes with her looks—turning this into her show? Bitch, time to pay.
Thus began the glare exchanges. All for one free drink.