Heaven and Earth Reversed
The Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families, who had played such decisive roles in the Song Dynasty’s unification, fell strangely silent once the war was over.
The pines of the Wudang Sect, green through every season, lost their vitality day by day.
At Shaolin Temple, silence filled the halls in place of sutras.
That winter, no plum blossoms opened on Huashan.
Even the Milky Way that once lit the night sky above Zhongnan Mountain lost its light.
Only a blood-red moon rose after dark, staining the world as if it meant to swallow every star.
People whispered among themselves.
“Heaven and earth have been turned upside down.”
“Heaven has sent down its punishment for the bloodbath the martial world unleashed.”
Under the weight of the common people’s united censure, the martial world chose to seal its gates.
Yet even so, the pranks of ghosts and monsters and the strange phenomena springing up on every side did not cease.
Hubei Province, Wudang Mountain.
Breaking a long silence, a group of Taoists came down along a steep mountain ridge.
As if unwilling to have their identities known, they had all disguised themselves in ordinary clothes rather than Wudang robes.
Every one of them wore a bamboo hat pulled low over the face.
The Taoist at the head of the party glanced back and spoke to the disciple following him.
A long scar ran from the corner of his eye down across his right cheek.
“Hagun. Is the intelligence certain that this sorcerer is staying at Cheongwelru?”
“It is certain, Elder Hyeonsong.”
The first-generation disciple Hagun continued.
“Though they say he is not a sorcerer, but a mudang who came from Goryeo.”
“A mudang, you say. A curious name.”
“They claim he is remarkably gifted. The moment that boy opens his mouth, calamity is sure to break out within seven days and nights…”
“So that is why Cheongwelru treats him with such extreme courtesy.”
The man called Elder sprang lightly onto a branch and leapt, as soft as a cloud drifting past.
The disciples behind him gasped for breath, throwing everything they had into matching Hyeonsong’s pace.
“Amitabha… For what purpose has Heaven visited such a calamity upon Wudang…”
At Hyeonsong’s lament, the disciples bowed their heads without a word.
Even Hagun, who until then had answered every remark, let his words trail away.
“When the archive burned, the secret manual of the Taegeukhyekeom was lost.”
“We have no other choice left to us.”
“And what is more, the Sect Leader and the other elders are no longer in their right minds.”
Hagun quickened his steps so the others would not overhear, and whispered softly to Elder Hyeonsong.
“Yet Elder… this may also be an opportunity.”
The first-generation disciple leaned closer.
“If only the Taegeukhyekeom can be restored, then Elder Hyeonsong might take the seat of Sect Leader—”
“Enough!”
The instant he heard those words, anger flushed across Hyeonsong’s face.
“Have I not told you time and again?”
The scar beside his cheek twisted into something ugly.
“I am nothing more than Wudang’s shadow—neither more nor less.”
“Elder Hyeonsong!”
“Do not open your mouth again.”
By the time the conversation ended, they had already reached Wuan County, the provincial capital of Hubei.
It was well past midnight. The markets along the streets had all shut their doors; the place was deserted.
Only the brothels of the red-light district at the eastern edge still drew people in with their soft, glowing crimson light, bright as a city that never slept.
That was Cheongwelru—home to the foremost brothel in all of Hubei Province.
Drunks flushed with high spirits flocked toward Cheongwelru like moths lured by the light.
“Ah, let’s go to Cheongwelru today—I’m buying!”
“My friend, we can’t even get in the door at Cheongwelru!”
“With this much money, what are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you heard the rumor that Cheongwelru chooses its guests?”
“Those lowly courtesans, of all people…”
“Watch your tongue. Plenty of men have raised a ruckus in front of Cheongwelru the way you are and ended up half-crippled.”
“Honestly, this filthy world! Isn’t everything in chaos because of those damned martial artists—or is it Wudang people—?”
The men, who looked like caravan overseers, never noticed the figures approaching from behind.
“Make way.”
“Do you even know who we are?”
When they turned, they saw a scabbard embossed with a pine tree.
“Eeeek!”
“Wudang…”
They collapsed on the spot, the liquor gone from their veins in an instant.
Hagun, unable to contain his anger, drew his sword from its pine-patterned scabbard.
“Barely three years have passed since our sect sealed its gates, yet have you already forgotten that Wudang still stands in Hubei Province?”
His blade moved in a graceful arc, about to trace a curve toward the drunkards’ throats—
When Elder Hyeonsong’s sword, already drawn, swept out in a circle and wound around Hagun’s blade.
Hagun’s sword sprang into the air and slid cleanly back into its scabbard.
“Elder Hyeonsong!”
“Your hand is too heavy.”
The disciples behind them could only click their tongues in awe at the Elder’s skill.
Hyeonsong helped the fallen drunks to their feet.
“You gentlemen do not yet seem to know Hubei Province well.”
“Forgive us—only spare our lives…”
“Always mind your tongues. The mouth is the door through which disaster enters.”
“Yes, Taoist master!”
“We will remember!”
“Where is Cheongwelru?”
“That way, sir!”
Where the tips of their fingers pointed, the most lavish and imposing pavilion among all the brothels of the red-light district rose into view.
Elder Hyeonsong sheathed his sword and spoke.
“Let us go.”
Hagun bit his lip, the anger still not fully cooled, and glared at the drunks.
“Count yourselves fortunate.”
The men bowed their heads again and again.
A blood-red moon wrapped itself around the splendid crimson pavilion.
Cheongwelru was quiet—far too quiet for a house that held the title of Hubei’s finest brothel.
Only the mournful notes of a zither and the beat of a drum drifted down from the uppermost floor.
The moment Elder Hyeonsong stopped before Cheongwelru, the great doors of the massive house opened of their own accord.
“The Taoists of Wudang have arrived.”
Women dressed not like ordinary courtesans but in neat, refined court attire came forward to receive the Wudang disciples.
“How did you know—?”
Elder Hyeonsong could not finish the sentence, so strange was the situation.
“Young Master Yeong-hwa gave us advance word that honored guests from Wudang would visit today.”
The courtesan smiled sweetly and went on.
“He added that you would come because of the calamity that has befallen Wudang.”
A murmur of astonishment ran through the Wudang disciples.
Hyeonsong gathered his scattered thoughts and turned to Hagun.
“Did you send word ahead?”
“I did not, Elder Hyeonsong. Because of the sect’s honor, we agreed this matter would be handled in secret—”
The courtesan cut across Hagun’s explanation.
“What no one else knows, the young master sees as clearly as the palm of his hand.”
The women smiled shyly and guided the disciples inside.
“We have already cleared the first floor for you.”
The leading courtesan took Elder Hyeonsong and Hagun lightly by the sleeves.
“Young Master Yeong-hwa wishes to receive only the two of you.”
Tea and dishes for the Taoists were already laid out on the first floor of Cheongwelru.
Feeling as though he had stepped into a plan already set in motion, Hyeonsong hesitated. The courtesan covered her mouth and gave a bashful laugh.
“There is no one in Cheongwelru who has forgotten the dignity of Wudang.”
She added carefully,
“Still less the Cloud Darkness Sword, who alone, at the rear of the final line in the Great Demon-Slaying War, cut down a thousand sworn death-troops of the Blood Cult…”
At the sound of that title, the gentle aura around Elder Hyeonsong changed in an instant.
A killing intent like the stench of blood flooded the space around them.
Hyeonsong touched the corner of his eye with his right hand, as if the scar on his face still burned.
“I have no wish to hear more.”
He was smiling, yet the smile at the corners of his mouth was sharp as a blade’s edge.
“No matter how much one may know, there are lines that must not be crossed.”
The courtesan’s lips trembled.
Under the crushing killing intent, her face turned pale.
“Lead the way. I will meet this young master—or young lord—at once.”
The moment he finished speaking, Hyeonsong drew back the surging aura.
“Ghk… Y-yes…”
White-faced, the girl hurried to guide Elder Hyeonsong toward the stairs that led to the uppermost floor of Cheongwelru.
Then Hagun, who had been leading the disciples, came to the Elder’s side and spoke.
“Elder Hyeonsong, I will go with you.”
Hyeonsong whispered quietly to him.
“I do not know who this person is, but it may be a trap. Look after the second-generation disciples for me.”
In answer, Hagun simply raised his fists in salute.
Hyeonsong followed the frightened courtesan and climbed the stairs of Cheongwelru at an unhurried pace.
On the fifth floor the stairs ended, and a long corridor stretched ahead.
From the room at the far end, the drumbeat rolled without pause.
Treading the costly red carpet, Hyeonsong rested a hand on his sword hilt—
ready for any ambush that might come.
Beyond the red bead curtain that screened the room, a child’s chanting rose in time with the drum.
A mature-looking woman approached the trembling young courtesan.
“Forgive the late greeting. I am Uncahae, mistress of Cheongwelru.”
“Enough. Where is this sorcerer they call a mudang?”
At Hyeonsong’s sharp words, Uncahae answered not with speech but with a clap of her hands.
At her signal, attendants hurried up from the floor below.
As if prepared in advance, they set a plain table and chair before the room.
A moment later a single bottle of wine and one cup were placed upon the table.
“The young master said that when the honored guest first arrived, his heart would already be unsettled, and he would have no mind to pay a consultation fee…”
With an elegant gesture Uncahae tilted the bottle over the cup.
“He asked that you take as your companion the wine you favored on the battlefield, watch the matter unfold, and then judge for yourself.”
A deep, fierce fragrance of liquor teased Elder Hyeonsong’s nose.
It was Yaozi Xuequ—the famous white spirit of Sichuan Province, a drink even common folk enjoyed.
It had also been the only companion that soothed his heart and those of his comrades on the field of war.
Elder Hyeonsong gave a short, hollow laugh.
“He is skilled, I’ll grant him that.”
He lifted the cup and held it out to Uncahae.
“You drink first.”
Uncahae showed no surprise at the demand. She drained the cup in a single swallow.
Hyeonsong waited a full mark of time. When nothing happened to her, he filled the cup himself from the bottle.
He wet his lips slowly with the wine and began to focus on the rite unfolding inside the room.
Boom— boom— boom— boom— boom— boom— boom—
A boy in plain white mourning clothes danced to the drum, silver bells in his hands.
Around him sat the highest officials and greatest merchants of Hubei Province.
Prostrate before the boy were Seok Bu-gang, master of the Manjeok Merchant Guild—the foremost trading company in Hubei—and his two sons.
“Young Master Yeong-hwa, I beg you—save my eldest son!”
Jingle— jingle— jingle— jingle—
The boy who had been shaking the silver bells like a madman snapped open a fan.
With the fan—painted with every kind of guardian deity—held before his face, the young boy’s voice rang out.
“Why ask that of me?”
“What? What do you mean by that?”
The boy giggled as if amused and went on.
“You know far better than I why your eldest son is ill, do you not?”
Seok Bu-gang’s voice shrank.
“That is…”
The fan snapped shut, and the drum that had followed it fell silent as well.
The boy’s fan pointed sharply at Seok Bu-gang.
“Is it not only natural that the ancestral gods should rage over a pledge you failed to keep?”
At those words Seok Bu-gang looked up at Young Master Yeong-hwa with a face full of injustice.
“What are you saying? Our house has always offered ancestral rites with the utmost devotion every year—”
Young Master Yeong-hwa rapped Seok Bu-gang on the head with the closed fan, looking thoroughly exasperated.
“There was another house with which your ancestors made a pledge in return for a favor, was there not?”
Yeong-hwa fixed Seok Bu-gang with a piercing stare.
“Why leave that part out when you speak?”
Seok Bu-gang’s complexion twisted.
“That… that is…”
Yeong-hwa pointed the fan at the drum.
An old man whose eyes were covered by a white blindfold began to beat the drum with wild abandon.
In answer the silver bells cried out, sorrowful and sharp.
“So you thought your father’s pledge was none of your concern, and cast it aside so lightly?”
Yeong-hwa glared at Seok Bu-gang with a look of open contempt.
“Now that they have fallen into ruin, you break the price of the grace your ancestors received!”
Anger filled Yeong-hwa’s voice.
“Did you truly believe the other family’s ancestral god would simply stand by?”
Seok Bu-gang’s whole body shook under Yeong-hwa’s words.
“If you used connections at court to win your family’s wealth, then you too must repay the favor!”
The slender boy’s roar cut clean through the rolling thunder of the drum.
“You beat the father who came to demand that the pledge be kept, heaped humiliation on him until he hanged himself!”
Yeong-hwa’s voice, as if seized by a spirit, was as raw and piercing as a funeral wail.
“And the daughter promised in a prenatal betrothal now lies at death’s door from the shame…”
He snapped the fan open once more and fixed Seok Bu-gang with a merciless glare.
“And still you hope your eldest son will remain unharmed?”
In that instant Yeong-hwa’s eyes rolled back and whitened.
Seok Bu-gang lifted his head, his face a mask of disbelief.
“You… you’re dead…”
Bloody tears spilled from Young Master Yeong-hwa’s eyes.
Seok Bu-gang was already scrambling backward.
“No. This is a dream.”
Hearing Yeong-hwa’s channeling of the grudge, the high officials and wealthy men of Hubei began to whisper among themselves.
“So the master of the Manjeok Merchant Guild is not a man one can trust.”
“Trade must rest on good faith—and he repays even a pledge between houses with betrayal…”
Cold sweat ran down Seok Bu-gang’s spine at the murmuring around him.
If this continued, the reputation of the Manjeok Merchant Guild would crash into the dirt.
The boy before him prattled on as if Seok Bu-gang’s state of mind meant nothing at all.
“Tell me—why does the money of the Manjeok Merchant Guild reek so thickly of blood?”
Yeong-hwa cackled and scattered the consultation fee Seok Bu-gang had laid before him into the air.
“Just like those merchant-house murders that took place across Hubei—”
Before Yeong-hwa could finish, Seok Bu-gang shot to his feet and roared.
“What are you doing? Silence that mouth at once!”
At his frantic order the two “sons” who had been prostrate drew daggers from their robes.
They lunged at Yeong-hwa like streaks of light.
They were not sons at all, but unorthodox free-lancers Seok Bu-gang had disguised as his children just in case.
In that moment Yeong-hwa’s eyes cleared again and turned toward the red bead curtain where Hyeonsong stood.
Yeong-hwa murmured, low and soft.
“Is the consultation fee prepared?”