The Road to the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering
The Dragon and Phoenix Gathering. A special event and time-honored annual festival for every fresh-faced young genius in the Murim world. Every martial faction and even the imperial family kept a sharp eye on it, so it clearly carried political weight. Still, that wasn't enough to cool the hot blood boiling inside the participants. At its core, the Yongbong-jihoe was a place for the young talents of the entire Murim to gather, forge connections, and test their skills.
It was the largest-scale tournament held at the Murim Alliance headquarters, and it was also the season when the Alliance distributed elixirs, weapons, and secret manuals. The children of prestigious families came to raise the name of their clan and sect. Warriors with weak backing came for an opportunity they might never see again. Others simply wanted to test the limits of their own power. People flocked there with their own goals—a festival of desire drenched in blood and torn flesh.
Since martial artists made their living through slaughter, it wasn't an exaggeration to call the Yongbong-jihoe a bloody slaughterhouse that ranked Murim's most capable killers.
"No, my lord. Your explanation seems rather strange."
"Where is it wrong?"
"...."
"Slave, escaping reality isn't healthy. The heads of families who live by the sword are serial killers, and the children who inherit the business are apprentice murderers."
"Sister. Are you saying that for me to hear?!"
"Namgung Ryeon is pretty, so it's fine."
"...What the hell."
And here was a group likewise drawn by desire and purpose, heading for Gamsuk. They were attending the Yongbong-jihoe held at the Murim Alliance headquarters. They had also come to greet the high elders of the Murim who had arrived early, guided by Wudang's Cheongun-jinin and the sect leader Taecheong-jinin at the largest inn in a nearby city.
After all, someone of Yong Cheong's caliber was scheduled to represent Wudang as both its face and champion at this Yongbong-jihoe. He needed to greet the adults around him, connect with his peers, and handle a long list of obligations. At the very least, he had to bring his body to peak condition before the tournament—the Yongbong-jihoe's main event—began, so Wudang's name wouldn't be looked down on. Adult supervision and guidance were essential.
He was surprisingly busy for someone I usually worked like a slave.
"I understand what you're saying. However, following your logic..."
"It means the soldiers who protect the country are no different? It's a leap in logic, sure."
"Correct. Moreover, Wudang is a Taoist temple unlike the great families, so I cannot agree with that statement."
"That's why the line matters when you swing a sword. Not the 'good' kind of line, but the boundary of how far and in what way you'll go. A sword doesn't have a conscience, after all."
On the road to the Murim Alliance headquarters where the Yongbong-jihoe would be held. While waiting for Taecheong-jinin who would arrive soon, a man and women sat amicably around a round table laden with food, sharing a meal. Among them, the group's only male rested his chin on his hand and closed his eyes.
"The line of the mind. How can something like that be drawn so rigidly? A person's heart is meant to change."
"The heart may change, but the standard you set in the past doesn't disappear. Whether you maintain it or revise it is up to the person themselves."
"It's difficult."
"If it were easy, would it be human?"
As if savoring the meaning behind those words, Yong Cheong muttered gravely, unaware that the noodles held between his chopsticks were going cold. I glanced at him, shook my head, and fed Oh-ryeong a bite, muttering that a guy who thought too much should pick up a brush instead of a sword.
"Indeed. The important thing is for what purpose one swings the sword, sister."
"Yeah. Don't take it too seriously. The 'line' I mentioned is ultimately just a defense mechanism for people who feel guilty about killing."
"That's true. Father always said a sword is simply swung."
"Exactly. So if you're holding a sword, Namgung Ryeon, don't entertain weird thoughts. Weaklings like you who waste energy worrying about others will just get stabbed and drop dead."
"...What exactly do you see me as?"
"A female cat."
"Sister!!"
It was a harmonious scene. Two adorable girls, two lovely and beautiful women, and one man who made onlookers burn with envy.
If the old masters of the Murim saw it, they would sigh that youth really was the best time. If people from the Demonic Path saw it, they would exclaim what a feast for the eyes it would be if only that interloping bastard would disappear. If orthodox faction members saw it, they would wonder why the Sword Phoenix and Blue Dragon were acting like that and who the fairy-like beauty beside them belonged to.
"Slave."
"Yes."
"Can I order some alcohol?"
"Drinking so early in the day is bad for the body, my lord."
"I know."
My hand, which had been picking up food, twitched for a moment. Then I reached out with my chopsticks and began scraping an empty bowl. Yong Cheong and Namgung Ryeon looked over, wondering what bizarre thing I was doing this time, and froze when they saw it. On the greasy surface of the bowl, the word DANGER had been scratched in crooked strokes.
I wasn't the type to play pranks like this, no matter how eccentric I was.
"Hmm."
Tap. Tap. The smile slowly faded from my face as I tapped the bowl. I couldn't tell whether the killing intent I had felt for the briefest moment was accidental or from an assassin who simply couldn't hide it. People's hearts were complicated, after all. Sometimes killing intent leaked out without them realizing it. The world was a place where random blade attacks happened more often than one might think, and it was human reason that suppressed those feelings.
Was it really worth throwing the first punch just because the other party had briefly harbored and then suppressed killing intent? Even if a few drops of urine leaked out while desperately holding in a massive urge to shit, it was hard to call that a sin. If they held it in, they held it in.
The metaphor was pretty disgusting, but anyway.
"If you're all done eating, let's get up."
I still couldn't drink alcohol. Everyone rose one by one after filling their stomachs. I was naturally leading the way out of the inn when someone blocked our path.
"Hehe. Hello?"
A figure wearing white hemp clothes and a black bamboo hat pressed low over their face. Only their lower face was visible. From the thin voice and build, it was probably a woman. But there was something not even the hat and clothes could conceal.
It was the hostility openly displayed on that face. The enmity was too direct to be mere curiosity or a desire to ask a question. It was clearly radiating groundless killing intent toward us. Though only her manner of speech and lower face were visible because of the bamboo hat, she couldn't hide it.
"Who are you?" Yong Cheong stepped forward first. His expression suggested that mere hostility on someone's face wasn't reason enough to treat them as an enemy.
But the slave had picked the wrong person.
"Me? The Little Witch."
There were many people in the world whose emotions overrode reason. A white, slender hand lashed out. The slave belatedly reached for his sword, but the woman was a little faster.
Of course, there was someone even faster than her. That was me.
"Yah!"
I kicked a chair and sent it flying. It scraped across the floor and slammed into the woman's body. Fingernails brushed past the bridge of Yong Cheong's nose.
"...Don't interfere!"
The woman's target changed. The hostility that had been aimed at the slave instantly flipped toward me. What? I thought she had some deep grudge since she ignored the person in front and went straight for the slave, but now she's targeting me? Looks like the grudge wasn't that deep after all. Or maybe she just really liked fighting. Either way, it didn't matter.
I reached out, grabbed her wrist, twisted it, and slammed her down in a clean throw. Thud! The woman in the bamboo hat and hemp clothes planted a deep kiss on the floor, sending a cloud of dust flying up.
"Stay down for a moment, friend."
I stepped on her back. Her internal energy and realm were surprisingly impressive, which was why I had stepped in personally instead of leaving it to the slave, but her actual skill was unbelievably trash. She had spirit but no substance. Or more precisely, she had learned the proper fighting paths but wasn't using them? She seemed so consumed by rage that she couldn't even follow the movements ingrained in her body.
Well... not my problem.
I pressed down harder on the woman's twitching back.
"Ugh!"
"Bear with the pain a little. Slave."
"Yes, my lord."
"Isn't this the one you know? Looks like you earned some grudge."
"I have no idea who she is. She appears to be a first-rate master, yet why would she—"
"Wrong."
"Pardon?"
"She's peak first-rate."
A brief silence fell. The one who spoke next was Namgung Ryeon.
"Um... sister?"
"Yeah."
"I know your detection ability is incredible, but you're saying this is peak first-rate?"
"Yeah."
"This thing?"
The peak first-rate master who had suddenly been reduced to "this thing." She seemed unable to believe it. Honestly, I found it hard to believe too. Her skill was so low it would be embarrassing to compare her to the leader of the Black Sword Sect. The disharmony between her accumulated qi, her realm, and her actual ability was extreme. There was usually a reason for such imbalance.
I suddenly grew curious about her face. Her voice was pretty, after all.
"Shall we take a look at our friend's face?"
Her clothes and bamboo hat had come loose from being slammed into the floor, but they hadn't fallen off. How badly did she not want to show her face that she had wrapped herself so tightly the impact hadn't dislodged them? I reached out like someone unwrapping a present.
"My companion has made a mistake."
"Aha."
"Please be understanding. She must have gained much enlightenment from this incident."
An old man who had been sitting in the corner of the inn stepped forward. Behind him, a stunning woman with an hourglass figure covered her mouth with a fan, eyes twinkling with interest. The moment my gaze met the old man's as he approached with the help of a thin cane, his steps halted. It was as if an invisible line had been drawn between us.
His narrowed pupils gauged my aura, then a deep smile formed on his lips.
"Your aura is sharp. You have the appearance of a fairy, yet you nurture an asura inside. Girl, why is an asura like you standing between the hypocritical dragon and phoenix?"
"Nurture? I didn't get pregnant."
"Heh heh..."
The old man froze. He had stepped forward trying to look profound and intimidating, but the other party was even worse, leaving him speechless. Especially since the girl who had countered with that absurd pregnancy remark had the face she did.
The red-haired beauty behind him burst into laughter and rose gracefully.
"Hohoho! To think I would live to see the old man flustered like this."
"...On the contrary, it's good. Isn't this more familiar to us?"
"That is true. By the way, pretty one, won't you return what's under your foot to its owner?"
"Was that your girl? You should have said so."
I kicked the twitching figure at my feet and sent her flying. The voluptuous beauty caught her, draped her over the old man's shoulder like laundry, and let out a pleased laugh, her characteristic bewitching yet dangerous eyes narrowing happily.
"Ahaha! Old man, this girl seems like quite the find. I like her so much—can't I take her with me?"
"Don't even think about it. Can't you see the Blue Dragon and Sword Phoenix beside her? No need to stir up unnecessary trouble."
"Hmph... what a shame..."
"You can take her separately once this is over."
What the hell. Who were this old man and pretty girl to talk about taking people like that? But those thoughts vanished the moment the red-haired beauty in the revealing dress approached and bowed before me. The bold cut of her clothes naturally displayed their true worth, and every sway of her hair carried a strangely pleasant scent. The full, soft curves revealed by her bow needed no description.
"Whoa."
"Our pretty one has a face like a fairy yet speaks like an old man."
"Now now. Call me oppa and try it."
"...Our pretty one isn't actually a man, is she? The kind with an interest in cross-dressing."
"That would be nice."
The beauty's mind reeled. What was this? Had her face and personality been swapped at birth? What kind of girl was this vulgar? From the Central Plains perspective, she had far surpassed the level of being called bold or eccentric. A proper young lady or wise woman of the Central Plains should be careful with every toe movement, every word, and every gesture, yet...
It wasn't for her to say, but this was far too open. If there was a stream in front of her, she seemed like the type to casually take off her shoes and splash around in front of strange men. Of course, even a deranged madwoman knew to keep her precious bare feet carefully covered with shoes.
'To be born with such heavenly qualities yet show no trace of feminine grace!'
Though she was like this herself, the beauty—having found a girl she genuinely liked for the first time in a while—felt her stomach twist at the thought that such a fairy-like face and figure might have her marriage prospects completely blocked. It was a kind of occupational disease, and it felt like looking at her past self.
Yo-nyeong, the Soul-Bewildering Demonic Queen, stuck her tongue out cutely at Taeheo-rang, the Sword Demon, as if asking for understanding, then winked and closed one eye. The Sword Demon's wrinkles twisted like an evil spirit. He clearly thought the lascivious woman was acting out again despite her age.
"Our child, your skin is so white?"
"Hehe, not as much as yours, sister."
"...Very. Hmm, how bold. Who is your master? Where are you from?"
"This body. After being birthed by my mother, I haven't lived in anyone's arms."
"...A wanderer, then? Is that it?"
"You could say that, sister."
"...Then would you like big sister to do something nice for you?"
I flinched for a moment. Given the context of the sentence, I probably should have screamed "No!" "I don't want to!" or "Help!" But... did I really need to?
It was extremely suspicious and there was no telling what would happen if I followed her, but she was pretty. Her aura was that of a Hwagyeong master comparable to Master Geum, though not as strong as the old man. She was carrying around a suspicious, trash-tier peak first-rate master who had attacked the slave with clear hatred, but she was still pretty.
My thoughts wavered ever so slightly on whether to follow or not.
"Vile temptress, who are you trying to bewitch?"
"Oh my."
A clear, mint-like scent drifted from afar. It was richer and fresher than the energy the slave occasionally gave off. At its source stood an old man with a beard that evoked thoughts of an immortal, wearing Taoist robes decorated with a black-and-white taegeuk symbol. Behind him stood young men and women in similar clothing.
The beauty's eyes widened as if she hadn't expected to see them here.
"Taecheong-jinin! So big blue true human!"
Ah, so that was Taecheong-jinin. Was Cheongun-jinin, the slave's master, not here? Looking closer, I spotted him beside the man. The slave had tugged my sleeve and whispered that the person next to Taecheong-jinin was his master, so please at least preserve a minimum of face.
"Hmm."
So can someone explain what the current situation is? I was definitely just eating a moment ago?