Chapter 67
Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers.
Originally, the phrase meant wandering aimlessly without a fixed destination.
But in the murim, it referred to the Wanderers' Market in Guizhou, where martial artists sold their skills for money.
It didn't matter where you came from or which sect you belonged to. As long as you had skill, you could enter the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers and take on jobs. If you wished, you could even become one of their affiliated wanderers.
"The Martial Arts Tournament hosted by the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers will soon begin."
"The Martial Arts Tournament... You mean a martial arts competition?"
"Well, yes. But for them, hosting the tournament is more of a publicity stunt—a way to gather outstanding wanderers and secure contracts from various factions."
At Dan Cheong's words, Baek Yeon paled in shock.
"Deputy Pavilion Master. The Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers is no place for this child to go."
"Why not?"
"The Wanderers' Market has been flourishing day by day. Not only do orthodox and unorthodox factions participate in the tournament, but even the Martial Alliance sends its masters."
"Well, isn't the life of a martial artist inherently dangerous?"
Dismissing Baek Yeon's concerns with a light tone, Dan Cheong continued.
"It may not be the best place to make a name for oneself, but it's an unparalleled opportunity to gain experience. Especially this time—the prize is so extraordinary that an enormous number of masters are gathering for it."
"What is it?"
"The Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword."
"The Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword."
Bu Eun-seol repeated the sword's name, his eyes gleaming.
'With the characters for "divine sword" in its name, it shouldn't break easily.'
He had never cared much for weapons before.
But his newly created sword technique had a habit of shattering blades with alarming frequency—so he needed a good sword.
"I will go to the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers."
"Bu Eun-seol."
Baek Yeon couldn't hide his dismay.
"The decision you make now will determine your standing for the next ten years. Choose carefully."
"Thank you, Commander."
Bu Eun-seol bowed deeply.
"I appreciate your kindness and your concern for me. But I am a disciple of Langya Pavilion."
"Of course, the highest ideal of the Main Pavilion is the pursuit of the Martial Way. But you must become a great figure who will one day lead Langya Pavilion."
"I know. That's why I've decided to venture into the martial world."
Realizing Bu Eun-seol's unwavering resolve, Baek Yeon let out a deep sigh.
"Very well. If that's how you feel, then there's nothing more to be done."
His face creased with deep wrinkles as he shook his head.
"Do as you wish."
"Thank you. Then, may I depart immediately?"
At Bu Eun-seol's question, Dan Cheong nodded.
"Of course. But before you go, stop by Master Cheol and at least take a weapon with you."
"Understood. Thank you."
Clasping his hands together once more, Bu Eun-seol bowed deeply again.
"Then I shall see you in a year."
Without hesitation, he turned and left.
Swift and decisive—that was Bu Eun-seol's nature. Once he made up his mind, he acted without hesitation.
"Hmm..."
Like a grandfather watching his reckless grandson wander into the marketplace, Baek Yeon exhaled a sigh heavy enough to sink the earth.
"Deputy Pavilion Master. This is something we really should have stopped."
"Who could possibly dissuade that stubborn brat?"
"Still, we should have tried. Aren't you and I the only ones who can properly guide that child?"
Baek Yeon wore an uncharacteristically gloomy expression.
"With his talent, he could elevate the Main Pavilion to the top ranks of the Demonic Path Ten Gates. He might even contend for the position of successor in one of the Demon Hall's three power blocs. If he starts building strong ties with the successors of the Demonic Path Ten Gates now, it's entirely possible..."
He rambled on for a while, unable to hide his frustration.
To soar to the top, martial arts alone weren't enough.
Bu Eun-seol was a prodigy unlike any other. If he could consolidate his influence, he could stand tall in the Demonic Path...
Yet like a man obsessed, he pursued only the Martial Way, blind to everything else.
"If only that child had a little more ambition, he could rise to the pinnacle of the Demonic Path Murim."
"He will rise. It's just that where he wants to stand is a little different."
Dan Cheong spoke in a low voice.
"That's why he'll walk even a path of thorns—or a road of blazing hellfire. Because that's how... he'll grow stronger, even if just a little faster."
"Why is he in such a hurry to grow stronger?"
"Hah, didn't you realize? The heart of that child?"
When Baek Yeon gave him a puzzled look, Dan Cheong gazed back with a faint smile.
"That child wishes to lose to no one."
"Lose to no one...?"
Baek Yeon couldn't continue.
Bu Eun-seol dreamed of invincibility —something even the Absolute Grandmasters dared not hope for.
He aspired to become a peerless master, unrivaled under heaven.
The Wandering Drifters was located in the barren wasteland of Guizhou.
Originally, it had been just one of many insignificant mercenary bands that took money in exchange for odd jobs.
But twenty years ago, after the leadership of the Wandering Drifters changed hands, it began to flourish at an astonishing rate.
The new Wolf Lord, hidden behind a veil, established a command structure within the chaotic Wandering Drifters and operated an intelligence network.
With proper jobs, accurate information, and prompt payment, skilled drifters began flocking to them. Gradually, they built up their organization until, before anyone knew it, they had grown into a massive mercenary alliance.
Murmur, murmur.
The village where the Wandering Drifters was based, usually not particularly crowded, was now teeming with people.
The Martial Refinement Tournament.
It didn't matter where one hailed from—whether orthodox, demonic, or unorthodox. As long as they were part of the martial world, they could participate and claim the grand prize.
Even the victor wasn't obligated to join the Wandering Drifters.
The reason for hosting such an unconventional tournament was simple: outstanding drifters and martial artists from all over would gather here to compete.
The drifters would settle in, the martial artists would hand out jobs, and word of the Wandering Drifters' prestige would spread.
That alone brought the Wandering Drifters immense profit.
Slurp.
Bu Eun-seol was seated in a high-class guest inn not far from the tournament grounds, quietly eating his meal.
Cheap inns attracted a predictable crowd.
But high-class inns drew not only martial artists but also merchants and other varied clientele.
Since they each had their own sources of information, one could sometimes pick up useful tidbits just by sitting and listening.
As expected. There are a lot of people.
Having served in the Slaughter-Seeking Squad, Bu Eun-seol had developed an eye for detail that rivaled even seasoned veterans of the martial world.
Those who caught his attention were older martial artists traveling in groups.
They weren't here to participate in the tournament—they had clearly come from their sects with some special purpose in mind.
Indeed. This could truly be called a Lesser Murim.
Not just orthodox and unorthodox factions, but even those who appeared to belong to the Murim Alliance or the Demon Hall were present.
A Lesser Murim. This place was, in every sense, a miniature version of the martial world.
"Ah, honorable warrior. Pardon my intrusion."
Just then, a waiter cautiously approached where Bu Eun-seol was sitting.
"If it wouldn't trouble you, would you mind sharing your table? The inn is completely full, you see."
Even in high-class guest inns, sharing tables wasn't unheard of.
In fact, it was actively encouraged, as it sometimes led to unexpected connections.
Bu Eun-seol gave a slight nod, and the waiter bowed gratefully.
"Thank you, honorable warrior! Please, right this way."
Following the waiter's lead, a young man dressed in lavish silk robes approached with a boisterous laugh.
"Hahaha! It seems the chivalry of the martial world hasn't dried up yet."
He wore expensive ornaments on his ears and neck, and his cincture was studded with jewels.
At a glance, he looked like the scion of a wealthy family. Staring directly at Bu Eun-seol, he clasped his hands together in greeting.
"Well met?"
Bu Eun-seol gave a light nod in return, and the young man took his seat before addressing the waiter.
"Do you have any good liquor here?"
"Of course! We have baijiu made from high-quality sorghum."
"Hmm. Then bring three jugs of baijiu and one fried fish. But make sure the fish is properly scaled and gutted from the gills."
"Understood."
"And when frying it, pour the oil over the back so the inner flesh cooks thoroughly and the skin crisps up nicely."
True to his affluent upbringing, the young man seemed meticulous even about how his food was prepared.
"Haha! We're all just trying to get by, aren't we? If you're going to eat, you might as well eat well."
The young man beamed at Bu Eun-seol with a bright smile.
But Bu Eun-seol paid him no attention, quietly continuing his meal.
"Huh? That's not how you eat lotus root and spare rib soup—hey!"
The young man hastily called the waiter back.
"Bring a plate of minced greens. Quickly."
The bewildered waiter scrambled to bring out the greens.
Without hesitation, the young man dumped them straight into Bu Eun-seol's soup.
"Here, here, try it with these greens. The flavor will be much richer."
Under normal circumstances, Bu Eun-seol wouldn't have tolerated such behavior.
But for some reason, he ignored the young man's rudeness and indifferently scooped up a spoonful of soup.
"...!"
The moment the soup touched his lips, a strange light flickered in Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
It was just a few chopped vegetables added to the mix, yet the flavor of the stew improved dramatically when chewed together with the meat.
"How is it?"
Instead of answering, Bu Eun-seol gave a slight nod. The young man beamed brightly in response.
"Hahaha! Glad to hear it!"
Just then, the fried fish and liquor the young man had ordered arrived.
After downing several cups in quick succession, the young man exhaled deeply and turned to Bu Eun-seol.
"It's better liquor than I expected. Care for a drink?"
Bu Eun-seol silently shook his head.
"Shame. I take it you don't enjoy liquor?"
The young man spoke to Bu Eun-seol with an easy familiarity, as if they were fellow disciples from the same sect.
"When drinking good liquor like this, it's best to down three cups in a row without any side dishes. Because when your stomach is empty, you can truly savor the liquor's flavor. Hahaha."
Bu Eun-seol continued chewing his food without a word.
Most people would have stopped talking after such a lack of response. But the young man paid no mind and kept chattering away.
"Are you here for the Martial Refinement Tournament as well?"
Glancing at the longsword hanging from Bu Eun-seol's waist, he rambled on.
"With the Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword as the grand prize, even masters from past generations have flocked to this tournament. Then again, martial artists are the type who can't resist a good blade..."
Just as the young man's chatter showed no sign of stopping—
Crash!
A loud noise erupted from the corner of the inn.
Turning their heads, they saw two young martial artists surrounding a middle-aged man with moon ring blades strapped to his back.
"Everlasting Mountain Ghost! How dare you strut around in broad daylight!"
Everlasting Mountain Ghost—Yi Gok.
He was a notorious Great Thief and Murder Fiend who operated in the Hebei region. But since he wandered the martial world alone and possessed an elusive movement technique, no one had ever managed to capture him.
"Disciples of the Northern Sword Gate, I see."
Yi Gok smirked as he eyed the swords at their waists.
"Even your sect leader couldn't last thirty moves against me before losing his head. And yet, you brats dare to pick a fight?"
Slowly rising from his seat, Yi Gok licked his lips.
"I'll carve out your skulls and turn them into drinking cups."
The Northern Sword Gate disciples paled.
The inn was filled not only with demonic practitioners but also masters from the Righteous Faction.
They had assumed that if they took action, others would step in to help deal with Yi Gok.
Yet, to their shock, the onlookers merely watched without reacting.
"Tsk. Those Northern Sword Gate disciples miscalculated."
The young man sharing Bu Eun-seol's table sighed.
"They must not know the unwritten rules of the Wandering Drifters."
The Wandering Drifters was a Wanderers' Market where masters gathered regardless of faction.
Here, no one interfered in others' affairs—whether they belonged to the orthodox or unorthodox factions. That was the unspoken rule.
"You ready for this?"
Yi Gok bared his yellowed teeth in a bloodthirsty grin. He was a Murder Fiend who never spared those who provoked him.
When Yi Gok drew the moon ring blades from his back, the Northern Sword Gate disciples' faces twisted in fear.
Swish.
At that moment, Bu Eun-seol wiped his mouth and stood up. The young man blinked in surprise.
"Huh? You're stepping in?"
He tilted his head curiously.
Bu Eun-seol had striking features but a lean frame, and his Supreme Yang Acupoint was unremarkable. Though he carried a sword, he looked every bit like a newcomer to the martial world.
"Brother, this is the Wandering Drifters. Even if you intervene, no one's going to applaud you for—"
Step. Step.
Bu Eun-seol ignored him and walked forward.
As he approached the stairs, Yi Gok's gaze naturally shifted toward him.
"And who the hell are you?"
Yi Gok scowled as Bu Eun-seol drew closer.
"Another stray mutt from the Northern Sword Gate?"
"Move."
"What did you say?"
Bu Eun-seol silently pointed to the passage behind Yi Gok.
The gesture clearly meant, "I need to pass, so get out of the way."
"Heh heh heh..."
Yi Gok rubbed his forehead as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing, then burst into mocking laughter.
"Seems today's the day for little bloodbags to put on a show."
A crimson killing intent flickered in Yi Gok's eyes. He assumed Bu Eun-seol was deliberately provoking him.
"Guess I'll start by filleting you fir—"
Yi Gok's words cut off abruptly.
A sudden sting pierced his neck.
"Eh...?"
When he touched his throat, his hand came away drenched in bright red blood.
"Why is there... blood...?"
Only then did Yi Gok notice the sword in Bu Eun-seol's hand.
In the blink of an eye, a lightning-fast slash had severed his carotid artery.
"You—!"
Yi Gok's mouth fell open in shock.
And those were the last words he would ever speak in the mortal realm.