Chapter 59. One Fist Mountain Splitter
Thinking about it, Hyeol Hwa was in a desperately precarious situation right now, one where her life hung in the balance.
She had failed in her assassination attempt on Yong Jo-un, tarnishing the prestigious name of Haeyeonmun's elite assassin.
According to what Jong Bi had told him, Jeokhyeolsan subjected failed assassins to brutal interrogations. Unless it was due to unavoidable external factors, any personal mistake meant swift and merciless punishment.
Haeyeonmun probably wasn't much different.
And now she was in custody. Yong Jo-un was watching her every move.
To him, Hyeol Hwa was just a bargaining chip he could use to negotiate with either Gwangeonbang or Cheongsu Gate.
If Gwangeonbang found out she'd been captured, they might even kill her to silence the evidence.
In short, Hyeol Hwa was backed into a dead end.
Given her dire straits, she would scrutinize and analyze every word exchanged, every footstep, every breath.
If she couldn't even do that much... she never would have become an elite assassin in the first place.
Won Seung let out a sigh and came clean.
"Yeah, you're right. I do know martial arts. But honestly, I have no idea what level I'm at. That's why I've been hiding it—I don't wanna get cocky and end up dead."
"......"
Won Seung fetched some paper and a brush, then sketched the middle-aged man's face again.
He showed it to Hyeol Hwa.
"I ran into this guy on my way here today and nearly got killed."
"?"
Hyeol Hwa showed some interest.
"I barely escaped... but is the world always crawling with experts like this? Everyone I've met lately is some kind of master. Are peak experts really that common?"
"No way."
Hyeol Hwa let out a snort of laughter.
Oh, she spoke.
Won Seung seized the opening and pressed on.
"Well, the Hundred Great Experts of the Central Plains are all at least peak-level, right?"
"Do you even know who's on that list?"
Hyeol Hwa gave him a pitiful look.
"Nope. Why would I memorize all that?"
"Exactly. No need to. The Hundred Great Experts list varies by region and whoever's compiling the martial records."
"Huh?"
"The higher the expert, the more they hide their skills. True masters don't chase fame like that. It's the minor sects propping up their reps by claiming Hundred Great status."
"Why does it differ by region?"
"Obviously 'cause people think their own backyard's the best. Ask folks in Sichuan, and half the list'll be locals."
"Unbelievable. It's that unreliable?"
"Depends on who's publishing the records too. The Je Gal Clan emphasizes true realm attainment. But I hear Man Bulja's lists focus on real combat prowess. Orthodox sects favor their own, while unorthodox and black path ones push theirs."
"Got it."
Why didn't those Jeokhyeolsan bastards teach me any of this?
This practical knowledge is way more useful than sewing or embroidery.
Dok Sabu had already been out of the loop for ages when he met Won Seung, so he couldn't share these minor jianghu trends.
Hyeol Hwa's words soaked right into Won Seung's ears.
As he listened intently—probably the first real company she'd had after being cooped up—she even delved into the reality of experts.
"Real experts never flaunt their power. That's why so many turn out to be duds up close. The unknown ones are the real threats."
"So Hwa Cheon-gang and Cheon Il-hae might be duds too?"
"Eight or nine times out of ten... yeah, pretty likely."
Hyeol Hwa nodded. Won Seung's ears perked up.
"Why's that?"
"They're just names cashing in on Hundred Great fame to control the Sang River. Most of those types are frauds."
"I've met both, and their auras were no joke."
Hyeol Hwa eyed him steadily.
"What, again?"
"By your standards, sure, they're experts. But the 'duds' I mean are about whether they're truly peak-level."
"Ah..."
Hyeol Hwa glanced at the sketch again and asked Won Seung.
"Remember the techniques he used?"
Won Seung rolled his eyes upward, recalling.
"Came at me like a leopard, ran up the wall to leap over... looked like he was gonna punch straight, but grabbed my wrist with his other hand."
Hyeol Hwa nodded, as if it rang a bell.
"Fist and leg arts instead of weapons, huh. Probably... One Fist Mountain Splitter?"
"One Fist Mountain Splitter?"
"You know the Oeak Mutu Tournament, held every ten years?"
"Heard of it."
"Eight years ago at Mount Tai, there was a buzz when Kwon-wang's disciple got crippled. I saw it from afar—this guy snapped Kwon-wang's disciple's fist and earned the nickname One Fist Mountain Splitter."
"Hmm... eight years ago?"
Eight years ago, he'd been eight, climbing mountains in despair...
A wave of deep emotion washed over him, and Won Seung glanced at Hyeol Hwa.
Her face looked early twenties at most, mid-twenties tops.
This had always bugged him. When did she even join the elite assassin ranks?
Her fame started young—maybe early teens?—but that seemed unlikely.
Anyway, eight years ago, she'd probably been in assassin training... so Haeyeonmun included tournament tours in their curriculum?
No wonder they're a cut above Jeokhyeolsan. Different training from the start.
He was curious, but now wasn't the time.
She'd just started opening up; prying might make her clam up again.
"The nickname means he shattered Kwon-wang's Mountain Shattering Fist. Kwon-wang flew into a rage and came down the mountain, but the guy vanished. Never heard of him surfacing since... guess he was hiding in Sangyang."
"Kwon-wang's petty too, huh? Holding a grudge over a sparring injury. What kinda 'kings' are these?"
Won Seung grumbled, thinking of his own bad blood with Cheondaemun's head—similar to Dok Wang.
"One Fist Mountain Splitter's fist and leg style is praised as an ultimate art for its speed and variations. You held your own pretty well. Stronger than you look, eh?"
"Got lucky with poison. If we'd really fought, I'd be dead in three exchanges."
Won Seung rubbed his nearly broken neck, and Hyeol Hwa gave him a knowing look.
"No need to downplay it like that. I know you've opened your conception and governor vessels."
"Gasp! Who told you about me? Song Teacher?"
"Nah. Observation."
"What? Observation?"
Won Seung scowled deeply.
Of course. Hyeol Hwa had figured out a ton just by watching.
Fitting for an elite assassin.
"Song Teacher's decent for his age—first-rate soon enough. But you're beyond him. And your solar plexus isn't bulging either. So... either you've built a full cycle of internal energy to suppress return demons, or you've opened your vessels and settled it."
"No way. At my age..."
"Happens in great clans sometimes. They pick talented juniors, stuff 'em with elixirs, force the vessels open."
"I'm not from a great clan..."
"You're faking it."
So she hadn't guessed his full identity.
Won Seung feigned shock.
"That easy to figure out?"
"Try lying under a bed for days."
"Ah!"
She must've ground her teeth plotting how to kill whoever trapped her there. And studied me while at it...
Won Seung asked with a pale face.
"I saved your life... you wouldn't silence me, right?"
"Spill your identity then."
"......"
"...You're from the Dang Clan, aren't you?"
Ah, her reasoning went there. Good.
Won Seung shook his head firmly.
"Let's take it slow, get to know each other. I only know you're Haeyeonmun's Hyeol Hwa. When we trust each other enough to share, then we'll talk."
"Hmph! Like that'll ever happen?"
Hyeol Hwa snorted.
Won Seung stood.
Now that he knew the middle-aged man's identity, he needed to prepare. The guy might be watching even now.
Crossing the courtyard, Won Seung glanced at the tree where Yong Jo-un had hidden. The foliage was thickening; soon it'd be impossible to spot someone there.
'Gonna need to prune it.'
He muttered and headed inside.
In fact, up until moments before Won Seung looked, One Fist Mountain Splitter Cheon Seok-san had been hiding in that tree.
He burned to smash the brat who'd fooled him, but with Yong Jo-un inside, he couldn't.
Waiting in the branches, he spotted Song Myeong heading somewhere.
Cheon Seok-san tailed him, thinking to grab him for a deal. But the guy went straight to Gwangeonbang.
"?"
Cheon Seok-san tilted his head and hid far off to wait.
About half a shichen later, Song Myeong exited the main gate and headed down the main road to Baekhwa Pavilion.
Cheon Seok-san watched his back, then walked toward Gwangeonbang.
On the tenth day as promised, Jong Bi came and took the signed tripartite duel agreement.
Cheon Il-hae clicked his tongue.
"So it came to this. You lost."
The bet: Hwa Cheon-gang would accept Yong Jo-un's challenge within ten days.
If he did, Cheon Il-hae got paintings worth 200,000 nyang. If not, Gu Ja-ang would propose the tripartite duel. He'd been sure Gu Ja-ang would win... but lost.
Won Seung hadn't even shown; he'd sent a servant to sign.
'Arrogant punk...'
Gu Ja-ang's beard quivered with rage. Cheon Il-hae twisted the knife.
"Getting backstabbed by a kid. Guess you're past your prime."
"My apologies. I didn't expect him to team up with Yong Jo-un."
Gu Ja-ang hid his discomfort and bowed low.
"What if you lose the main bet too? If Hwa Cheon-gang accepts the duel... you'll have to hand over those Northern Wharf Labor Syndicate shares, no escape."
Gu Ja-ang still believed Hwa Cheon-gang wouldn't accept.
But asserting that now would backfire if he did—another humiliation.
"Seems that kid's up to something. I'll handle it."
"Handle it how? He's from Seongwangbu, isn't he?"
Cheon Il-hae barked in fury.
He regretted blowing 200,000 nyang in a drunken haze that day.
Won Seung's antics played a part, but Gu Ja-ang's egging was bigger.
20-30,000 nyang would've sufficed to butter up the taesu...
The painting did get him the meeting. But the taesu just gave perfunctory words on river management.
When Yong Jo-un and Cheongsu Gate came up, he drew the line: murim matters for murim to handle.
Cheon Il-hae knew officials avoided meddling in jianghu affairs—no retort there.
Back-to-back blunders soured his view of Gu Ja-ang.
'Wasted a 200,000-nyang painting for that chit-chat?'