The White Tiger God Is Dead
“We’ve arrived!”
At the coachman’s cry, Yeong-hwa, Hyeonsong, and Hagun stepped down from the carriage.
Hyeonsong offered the man a light, formal salute with clasped fists.
“My thanks.”
The coachman, briefly flustered by the courtesy of such a high Taoist, quickly bowed in return.
“Then I’ll be on my way to the Namgung Clan.”
Hagun likewise saluted him.
“Safe travels, Daoist friend!”
The carriage rolled away, leaving them before a sprawling compound of luxurious halls roofed in black tiles. Upon the massive main gate were painted a white tiger and a black tiger. All along the high walls, countless martial artists stood on guard.
Hyeonsong climbed the stone steps without hurry.
“We come from the Wudang Sect.”
“Please wait a moment.”
One of the gate guards vanished inside. When he returned, he bowed with utmost respect.
“I greet the Sect Leader of Wudang.”
With a long, grinding creak, the great gates swung open and the guard led them in.
“I will escort you to the Grand Elder’s hall.”
Hagun and Yeong-hwa followed Hyeonsong deeper into the compound. A strange current in the air made Yeong-hwa’s brow furrow. Hagun leaned close to his ear.
“Do you sense something?”
“An energy I’ve never felt in my life.”
“Could the White Tiger God be angry…?”
Yeong-hwa shook his head.
“It isn’t a curse, yet it feels this ominous…”
He muttered under his breath as he scanned their surroundings.
“Even if the White Tiger God were enraged, it shouldn’t be this severe…”
Their conversation broke off. The doors of the Grand Elder’s hall opened and a white-haired man strode out. The current clan head, Paeng Il-mok, was nowhere to be seen—apparently receiving other guests.
“Cloud Darkness Sword!”
A giant of a man with a tiger pelt draped over his shoulders swept Hyeonsong into a hearty embrace. This was Paeng Un-ro, Grand Elder of the Hebei Paeng Clan.
“Senior Cheonhopaedo!”
Hyeonsong’s face lit with a broad smile. Paeng Un-ro immediately began to scold him.
“Cold-hearted man! All these years and not a single letter?”
Hyeonsong clasped his fists in apology.
“There was trouble within our sect.”
“At Wudang?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Come inside, then.”
Paeng Un-ro’s gaze flicked over the two young men trailing behind.
“Not bad.”
“Pardon?”
“Your disciples, I take it?”
“They are, Senior.”
Paeng Un-ro threw back his head and laughed.
“Looks like our clan will have to stay sharp.”
“You are far too modest.”
Paeng Un-ro took the seat of honor. Yeong-hwa’s brow creased at the great tiger skin spread across the floor. Moments later, servants brought tea and refreshments. Hyeonsong personally poured for the Grand Elder.
“What urgent matter made you summon us so suddenly?”
Paeng Un-ro lifted the scalding cup as though it were nothing.
“I’ll be blunt. Our martial artists are dying one after another.”
“Plague?”
Paeng Un-ro shook his head.
“I summoned every renowned physician in Hebei. All of them said it was no illness.”
Hyeonsong fell into thought.
“A strange affair indeed.”
“Stranger still that it happens only within our clan.”
“Only the Paeng Clan?”
Paeng Un-ro nodded.
“Once a week, one of them suddenly screams, coughs blood, and dies on the spot.”
Yeong-hwa, who had been steadily working through the refreshments, let out a soft snort of laughter.
“Of course they do.”
Paeng Un-ro’s mouth curved upward.
“So you’re the famous Daoist Yeong-hwa I’ve heard about?”
Yeong-hwa chewed, then spoke around a mouthful.
“From the moment I stepped through the gate, I saw the entire Paeng Clan drowning in deadly misfortune.”
“Pfft—!”
Hagun, startled by the boy’s brazen bluntness, sprayed tea across the table. Paeng Un-ro leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest.
A deep, grinding roar filled the hall as the Grand Elder’s residence began to shake. Hyeonsong shot to his feet and drew his sword.
“Senior!”
Crimson lightning crackled over Paeng Un-ro’s entire body.
“I have no acquaintance with you, boy, yet you seem remarkably lacking in manners.”
Even under the crushing weight of that thunderous energy, Yeong-hwa’s face remained perfectly calm.
“Not bad.”
Cracks spider-webbed across the floorboards. Hyeonsong tried to reach Yeong-hwa but found himself pinned by the old man’s vast internal force. Hagun had drawn his own blade and was barely holding a sword barrier against the red lightning.
“Very well. From this moment, every word you speak will decide your fate…”
Paeng Un-ro smiled, cold and thin.
“Go on. Talk.”
A killing wind howled through the hall. The crimson lightning that had been focused solely on Yeong-hwa rebounded as though it had struck an invisible wall. Black spirit-armor plates shimmered into existence around the boy. Paeng Un-ro’s smile widened.
“What dark art is this?”
“Not dark art. Divine power.”
Yeong-hwa sighed and locked eyes with the Grand Elder.
“The thick scent of blood rolling off you tells me you’ve stained your hands quite thoroughly, Grand Elder.”
“Any martial artist of the jianghu does the same.”
Yeong-hwa recoiled in open disgust.
“It is the stench of blood thick with resentment.”
“For the sake of the clan, one does what one must.”
Paeng Un-ro’s lightning surged harder, yet the black spirit-armor around Yeong-hwa never so much as trembled.
“On the way in I saw men in white martial robes.”
“The White Tiger Legion, you mean.”
“They’re the only ones dying, aren’t they?”
In a single breath the red lightning that filled the hall was sucked back into Paeng Un-ro’s body.
“How could you know that…?”
“It isn’t sudden death.”
Yeong-hwa gave a quiet snort and reached for another sweet.
“For seven days and nights they thrash like madmen and cannot sleep properly. That is why you suspected plague.”
Paeng Un-ro fell silent under the boy’s sharp diagnosis.
“And before they die, they all say the same thing, don’t they?”
The Grand Elder bit his lip. Yeong-hwa watched him, then spoke with deliberate calm.
“‘The White Tiger God is dying.’”
Paeng Un-ro’s fist smashed down. The table blackened as if struck by lightning and exploded into splinters.
“Who told you that?”
Yeong-hwa simply pointed out the window. The howling wind flung every casement open. Paeng Un-ro’s brow furrowed as he followed the boy’s finger.
“The Ancestral Shrine…”
“The White Tiger God no longer protects the Hebei Paeng Clan.”
Paeng Un-ro threw back his head and laughed wildly.
“My apologies.”
Yeong-hwa looked unbothered.
“I knew from the start this was a test, Grand Elder.”
Paeng Un-ro rose and personally helped the still-gasping Hagun to his feet.
“I’ve been burned by too many charlatans. I thought I’d play a little game.”
Hyeonsong’s face darkened with anger.
“Senior! Even so, this is—”
At that moment Paeng Un-ro bowed deeply toward Yeong-hwa.
“Please… help our clan.”
Hyeonsong and Hagun both stared, speechless. Yeong-hwa walked slowly to the old man. His expression was infinitely sorrowful as he raised Paeng Un-ro upright.
“Someone will have to… to soothe the White Tiger God’s wrath…”
He let the words trail off. Paeng Un-ro laughed boomingly.
“Someone must be sacrificed, you mean?”
He spoke as though it were nothing.
“I do not care.”
A bitter shadow crossed his face.
“Even if that someone is me.”
Yeong-hwa considered for a moment.
“Grand Elder, for now that is all I have managed to learn.”
“You need time, then.”
“Yes.”
Paeng Un-ro slung an arm around Hyeonsong’s shoulders.
“Does this matter require the Sect Leader as well?”
“It does not.”
“Then I’ll take Hyeonsong with me.”
“Is there nothing for me, then?”
With a flourish Paeng Un-ro tore the tiger pelt from his own shoulders and settled it around Yeong-hwa with almost fatherly care.
“Wear this, and no one in the entire clan will dare block your path.”
Yeong-hwa looked thoroughly dazed.
“Come, Hyeonsong!”
Paeng Un-ro dragged the Wudang Sect Leader out of the hall.
“That senior of yours—”
“Don’t try to wriggle free. Do you know how long I’ve missed you?”
“Solving it at the Paeng Clan instead of a pleasure house is—”
“Could I possibly host such honored guests properly here? Hah!”
Paeng Un-ro’s laughter rolled out.
“Let’s find an inn. I know just the place.”
Hyeonsong’s stern expression finally softened.
“You haven’t changed in the slightest.”
“At my age, if a man changes, he dies!”
Paeng Un-ro thumped his chest with a fist, thoroughly amused.
“Do you still drink that cheap white liquor… what was it, Joyful Snow Valley?”
“What kind of Daoist would I be if I were picky?”
Paeng Un-ro’s mouth curved into a crescent moon.
“Tonight will be a long one.”
As they stepped outside he called back over his shoulder.
“I’m counting on you, Daoist Yeong-hwa!”
Yeong-hwa answered only with a formal bow. In the next breath the two old masters vanished on light-foot techniques.
Hagun watched them go, then sighed and approached Yeong-hwa.
“The Paeng Clan is no easy place…”
Seeing the boy’s desolate face, he asked gently,
“What’s wrong?”
“A god never punishes lightly.”
Yeong-hwa’s voice was soft with sorrow.
“And to those who do not fear death, the punishment is harsher still.”
Hagun scratched his head at the cryptic words.
“I don’t really understand.”
Yeong-hwa looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the tiger pelt dragging on the floor.
“Hup!”
He stripped it off and held it out to Hagun.
“This suits Senior Brother far better than me.”
“Ahem… even so…”
Despite the protest, Hagun’s eyes never left the magnificent pelt.
“Senior Brother, opportunities like this come only a few times in a lifetime!”
At that, Hagun squeezed his eyes shut and settled the tiger skin over his own shoulders. His face immediately brightened.
“It’s warm!”
Watching him, Yeong-hwa suddenly staggered.
“And… Senior Brother, could you carry me for a while?”
A thin thread of blood trickled from Yeong-hwa’s nose.
“Yeong-hwa!”
Hagun’s cry of alarm was the last thing the boy heard before darkness took him.
“Are you awake?”
Yeong-hwa answered with a jaw-cracking yawn and a long stretch.
“Hwaaaaaah…”
At the thunderous sound, Hagun exhaled in open relief.
Yeong-hwa looked around blearily.
“Where are we?”
“The Paeng Clan’s guest hall.”
With Hagun’s help he sat up on the bed.
“I think I’m going to need Senior Brother’s help today.”
“It’s fine. Climb on.”
Yeong-hwa smiled brightly and settled onto Hagun’s back. As they moved through the guest hall—elegantly furnished in white silk—his expression grew puzzled.
“Senior Brother, is the internal energy of other sects and clans different from ours?”
“Explain more carefully.”
Yeong-hwa thought for a moment.
“It’s gloomy… damp, somehow.”
“Damp…”
“Clammy might be the better word.”
“Does it smell of blood, like blood energy?”
“Definitely not blood energy. Completely different from the incident we had at our own sect.”
“Does it feel like several energies mixed together?”
“No. Dark, clammy energy, yet strangely pure.”
Hagun’s voice trembled.
“It couldn’t be…”
“Do you have an idea?”
“I think… it’s demonic energy.”