129. Great Fortune is Followed by Great Misfortune...
The brass box contained exactly what he'd expected: a single book. The fairly thick volume's cover bore the words Bi Sword Sect Runs Rampant Through the World.
Won Seung picked up the book and flipped it open. It was a sword manual illustrated with diagrams.
Bi Sword Sect? No way... Does this mean I've really hit the jackpot?
It was like falling asleep with his mouth open and waking up with a rice cake in it. What were the odds of buying a house and finding a supreme manual from one of the Four Great Sword Sects in its well?
Back at the training camp, Won Seung had heard about the great clans, the Four Great Sword Sects, and the Three Great Dao Sects.
Among the Four Great Sword Sects, Bi Sword Sect was considered the most enigmatic. The last time one of its experts had appeared in the world was fifty years ago.
The Flying Sword Saint.
Thanks to that man, who astonished the world with a single sword, Bi Sword Sect had earned its place among the Four Great Sword Sects. As he roamed the jianghu, crushing countless masters, the Flying Sword Saint had one day ascended Hyeong Mountain's Three Virtue Peak, hurled his sword into the void, and bellowed a mad proclamation that became legend.
"With no worthy opponents left under heaven, I bury my sword on Hyeong Mountain!"
After flinging his sword from Hyeong Mountain, the Flying Sword Saint vanished from the world.
Countless people scoured every inch of the mountain in search of it, but the sword was nowhere to be found. Over the years, the legend grew exaggerated—some even claimed that whoever obtained the Flying Sword could ride it through the skies.
Half a century had passed, and the myths of Bi Sword Sect were fading into obscurity. For such a manual to fall into his hands now!
Won Seung suddenly scanned his surroundings in alarm. His maternal grandfather's warning echoed in his mind.
Great fortune is followed by great misfortune...
The entire Fang Kyung-pyo family, who had owned this manual, had been slaughtered in this very house.
This was a supreme art that could make its wielder the best in the world. Would their killers really give up and leave after murdering for it? A chill ran down Won Seung's spine. He wouldn't have. He'd have torn the place apart brick by brick.
Won Seung pried up a floorboard in the main room and hid the brass box and book. Then he grabbed his sword and headed to the rear garden as usual, practicing the Spectrum Sword Art, Heavenly Middle Sword Art, and Tae-eul Sword Art in sequence.
He'd only skimmed the manual briefly, but his eyes had already sharpened. The Spectrum Sword Art, Heavenly Middle Sword Art, and Tae-eul Sword Art were decent techniques in the jianghu, but now they seemed utterly crude.
After a solid session of sword practice, Won Seung returned, threw open the paper window, circulated his Clear Mind Heart Technique, and then connected the next pair of yin-yang corresponding acupoints using the quintessence of Yong Jo-un's Musanggyeol. Linking the yin-yang corresponding acupoints had become excruciatingly difficult after the twentieth pair. It had taken over ten days of training to connect the twenty-first, and now, nearly a month later, there was still no resonance.
On a day like today, when his mind was buzzing with excitement, he'd figured resonance would be even harder to achieve.
Huh?
The Lingtai acupoint on his back and the Qihuang acupoint in his middle dantian suddenly opened toward each other, as if gazing in unison. Won Seung focused on the sensation and finally linked another pair of resonance acupoints.
That's twenty-two pairs now!
Won Seung activated the energy from all twenty-two pairs of yin-yang acupoints. Internal energy equivalent to twelve years blazed along the linked channels like fire. He expanded and contracted the energy in the paired acupoints, bit by bit.
His fight with the chief instructor and Sa Gyo-du had taught him that properly circulating energy was more important than raw internal strength. Since then, he'd been practicing ways to adjust and control his internal energy level by combining the power from his Clear Mind Heart Technique with the yin-yang paired acupoint energy.
So much to do. No wonder I can barely get a decent night's sleep.
Only in the dead of night did he release his meditation stance, his legs numb and tingling. Won Seung hobbled awkwardly to his bed and crawled in.
Mansung Pavilion.
"Welcome!"
The errand boy recognized Won Seung and greeted him with a grin. The silver he'd left last time was still paying dividends.
"I'm here to pick up the tabloids I left for storage. Can you add two more years' worth to the one year's batch from before?"
"Pardon?"
"Meaning a total of three years, from the Thirteen Provinces editions."
The boy let out an "ah" and chuckled. Man, you're totally hooked. Once you got addicted to tabloids, there was no cure.
"I'll have to check with the steward."
The boy led Won Seung to a private room and went to fetch the steward. Moments later, Go Yeongju appeared.
"We only keep a few copies of tabloids from before last year for our own records. If you want them, we can make copies."
"Do it."
"As you know, copies aren't cheap."
Won Seung fixed Go Yeongju with a steady gaze.
"Don't test a loyal reader."
"But if you subscribe regularly, we could offer a discount."
"Regular subscription?"
"Didn't you mention it last time? Pay a year's fee in advance, and you'll get each monthly issue on the fifteenth—before other customers."
"Sure."
Won Seung needed them anyway, but reading tabloids was fun too. Take the Sangyang Three-Way Duel issue—he knew the inside story, yet it still gripped him.
The Sangyang bloodbath had started as a squabble between mid-tier martial sects, but Kwon-wang's involvement turned it into a jianghu sensation. The tabloids milked it for months. And since Won Seung's alias, Pung Un-saeng, popped up now and then, he couldn't help but enjoy them.
After concluding the deal, Won Seung returned home with his bundle of newly purchased tabloids.
He unrolled one from Zhejiang Province. As expected, it didn't yield much. Still, it gave him indirect insights into the province's customs and martial trends.
Zhejiang bustled with overseas trade to foreign tribes across the sea, and pirates frequently raided its eastern coast. Stories of righteous martial artists battling them often featured prominently. Won Seung lost himself in those tales.
The accounts of the Sea-Pacifying Sword were especially riveting. The hero boarded pirate ships single-handedly with one sword, decapitating hordes of pirates and distributing their loot to the poor. Won Seung couldn't help but marvel. The Sea-Pacifying Sword was the hope of Zhejiang's people.
Hmm. About the same age as Yong Daehyeop. No wonder he can't quit playing the great hero. The whole world adores him.
Won Seung finished the last Zhejiang tabloid with a sigh. He'd hoped for a lead on Bi Sword Sect or the brass box, but found nothing.
The Flying Sword Saint hurled his sword from Hyeong Mountain. It's not far from Zhejiang. A good place to discard it and vanish.
Bi Sword Sect was known only in name—its reality as nebulous as a dragon in the clouds.
For now, I'll memorize it.
Who knew what calamity it might bring later? But he wasn't about to kick away fortune that rolled right to him.
Won Seung pulled out the Bi Sword Sect Runs Rampant Through the World manual and began reading. It was devilishly complex. The diagrams were instantly comprehensible, and the energy circulation methods straightforward. But the sword intent annotations, like footnotes, were baffling no matter how many times he read them.
Over three days, Won Seung pored over it repeatedly, imprinting every detail in his mind. On the fourth night, around the third watch, he had it fully memorized.
After one final check, he returned the manual to the brass box and sealed it. With a sharp click, it locked as securely as before.
Where to stash this now?
Back in the well? No—someone else might stumble on it on a moonlit night, like he had.
Won Seung entered the inner chamber and opened the secret door leading to the medicine cellar—a basement room about three zhang square.
He started digging in one corner of the cellar floor. Then came a strange sound.
"Sob! Sob!"
Won Seung's hair stood on end; he froze. It was clearly a little girl's crying. He looked around, but no girl was in sight.
Did I study too hard? Hallucinating now?
He resumed digging, burying the brass box and tamping the earth. Then the sobs came again—sob, sob. Unmistakable this time.
Won Seung held his breath and heightened his hearing.
The cries came from the wall.
A ghost?
Chilled, Won Seung rapped the wall.
"I didn't kill you. Go back to the afterlife!"
The crying stopped.
Startled, Won Seung hurried back to the main room.
A real ghost? No, impossible. I must've misheard.
He returned to the cellar and pressed his ear to the wall.
Nothing.
Of course. I was just on edge.
Then—a faint rustle. The subtlest sound, undetectable without sixty years of internal energy focused on his ears.
Something was there. Beyond this wall!
Won Seung's eyes widened.
When he'd bought the house, he'd inspected every inch of its structure. A hidden space was the last thing he'd imagined.
He left the cellar and headed to the corresponding spot: a deep inner chamber, small and cluttered with odds and ends.
He examined the floor, walls, even the ceiling—no entrance to a basement.
After a moment's thought, Won Seung grabbed his sword, flying dagger, and pickaxe, then descended to the cellar.
He pocketed the corrosive powder and drunken dream potion from the shelf, hefted the pickaxe, and faced the wall.
Thud!
He smashed the wall.
Couldn't find the door? Make one.
With sixty years of power behind each swing, he could split rock. The earthen wall crumbled inward.
After digging about a zhang, a pop—a fist-sized hole. Dim light leaked through.
Won Seung leaned in to peer—then jerked back.
A sword thrust out!
"Knew it! A person after all!"
Won Seung yelled, flinging corrosive powder through the hole.
"Gah! Cough!"
Coughing fits from inside—a girl's voice.
Won Seung slammed the pickaxe harder.
Rumble. The hole widened as dirt and stone collapsed, big enough for a person to crawl through.
Through the gap: a dimly lit stone chamber. As Won Seung peered closer, the light snuffed out.
Pitch black.
"Hmph! Play tricks, and I won't hold back. I'll pour in boiling oil and torch the place! Light a fire now!"
Using his internal energy, Won Seung had already sensed only one girl in the chamber.
Probably Fang Kyung-pyo's missing daughter.
The family massacre was half a year ago. Surviving in that chamber until now was astonishing.
"Light it before I lose patience. I don't mean you harm. Just curious."
"……."
Silence, but he sensed her panic.
"That's corrosive powder you inhaled. Not lethal—it'll wear off in a day. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm trying to rescue you."
"How can I trust that?"
The girl's voice echoed.
"Fool. What choice do you have? You're trapped. No other options."
"……."
Suddenly, Won Seung sensed unusual movement inside.