Outbreak of War (2)
The Sect Leader of the Zhongnan Sect, the Zhongnan Sword Star Okwon Jinin.
The Sect Leader of the Mount Hua Sect, the Mount Hua Sword Severance Hwanghyeon Jinin.
The Master of the Hao Sect, Thousand Faces, the Hao Sect Master.
Three great sects that would not ordinarily stir had gathered in one place. The reason was movement in the northern reaches of Shaanxi Province. Well-versed in such intelligence, the Hao Sect Master spoke first.
"The bloody struggle among the unorthodox factions in northern Shaanxi has settled to a degree."
"I distinctly recall hearing last time that three coalitions of great-sect caliber had formed. Was that not the case?"
At Okwon Jinin's words, the Hao Sect Master nodded.
"Yes. After the various forces tore into one another, they coalesced into three sects around Yan'an and Yulin. They then united and challenged Paegeommun."
"And the result?"
"Paegeommun was victorious. They absorbed the coalition in turn."
At that, Hwanghyeon Jinin cocked his head.
"Those bastards of Paegeommun may be skilled with a blade, but they shouldn't be strong enough to defeat three great-sect level forces."
Having clashed with Paegeommun on a large scale some seven years prior, the Mount Hua Sect knew this well. Paegeommun possessed the power and influence to be counted among the Six Tyrant Coalition—or rather the Five Tyrant Coalition now—yet not enough to topple a coalition of great-sect strength. Had they held such power, they would never have been forced back after their confrontation with Mount Hua.
"We found it strange as well and investigated. It seems Paegeommun has actively embraced demonic arts."
"So it has come to that after all."
"Tch. Those sword-mad fools finally swallowed the poison."
Sighs escaped Okwon Jinin and Hwanghyeon Jinin at the Hao Sect Master's report.
"If Paegeommun has absorbed a coalition of great sects, their next move is all but decided."
"Indeed. It is what every unorthodox sect does once its scale grows."
Both men had spent long years in the jianghu; Paegeommun's next steps rose unbidden in their minds.
"Expansion."
"Culling."
Okwon Jinin and Hwanghyeon Jinin spoke at the same time. The two words were not different in essence. When an unorthodox sect grows large, it moves to expand its influence. In the process the weak chaff is swept away and only the promising remain. Long ago, Paegeommun had repeated that cycle countless times in northern Shaanxi until it became a great sect. This time would be no different.
"I knew it would come, yet it has erupted far too soon. I had hoped at least for the elites who left for the Southern Man to return first."
"What can one do? War, by its nature, waits for no man."
They had read the current of the times and prepared. They had cleared out the unorthodox rabble rampaging through southern Shaanxi, securing their rear. In the process they had given the still-inexperienced third-generation disciples a taste of real combat. They had not forgotten to ready weapons and stockpile provisions either. Even so, the preparations felt insufficient—an inevitability before sudden war.
"For a while, a blood wind will blow across Shaanxi."
The martial world had always been a forest of blades, corpses piled beneath and rivers of blood flowing ahead. A war between great sects would raise mountains of the dead and great rivers of blood. The two sect leaders could only nod with heavy hearts.
A vast war-cloud began to gather over the whole of Shaanxi Province.
At Paegeommun's headquarters in Yulin, northern Shaanxi, the Paegeommunju looked down with an indifferent face upon the man before him.
"It went as you claimed."
"We merely offered counsel. It was possible only because of the Sect Leader's discerning eye in accepting it."
Even the praise left the Paegeommunju's expression unchanged. The man before him had appeared one day bearing information—a messenger of the mysterious power that had lately set the entire Central Plains martial world abuzz.
The Heavenly Demon Cult, was it?
An arrogant name, yet they lived up to it after a fashion.
"Certainly, the intelligence you provided let us deal with those scavenging jackals at little cost."
"I am unworthy of such praise."
"But I cannot believe the claim that you desire nothing in return."
Pressure settled into the gaze looking down upon him. The messenger had not even drawn upon internal energy, yet the sheer presence alone made breathing difficult. When a Peerless Expert who ruled Paegeommun fixed him with that stare, it felt as though a keen blade hung at his throat. The messenger swallowed dryly and spoke.
"What the Paegeommunju desires is precisely what we desire."
"You wish to kill with a borrowed knife, then."
"……"
At the Paegeommunju's question the messenger closed his mouth. He knew by instinct that the moment he lied and denied it, his head would leave his shoulders. Kill with a borrowed knife—literally, the stratagem of using another's hand to slay one's enemy. The Paegeommunju was asking whether their aim was to topple the orthodox forces of Shaanxi through Paegeommun. The messenger kept his head bowed and answered.
"Yes. That is what we desire—and what the Sect Leader desires as well."
"……"
The Paegeommunju stared at the messenger in silence, then withdrew his presence.
"Very well. I shall dance to that three-inch tongue of yours. I was going to measure strength against the orthodox path sooner or later anyway."
"……"
"But do not forget. The sole reason your head remains on your shoulders is my magnanimity."
The Paegeommunju dismissed him. The messenger fled the seat as if escaping. Left alone, the Paegeommunju leaned back in his chair and sank into thought.
Those creatures are simply itching to unleash the demonic upon the world.
Thus the Heavenly Demon Cult belonged to neither of the two great camps that divided the martial world—orthodox or unorthodox—and walked only their own path, the demonic way. To them, both the orthodox and the unorthodox were merely targets to be destroyed.
So they dangle a suitable bait to set us in motion.
The presumption that they could use him as they pleased was galling, yet the bait they offered was undeniably appetizing.
Demonic arts are powerful martial arts.
They not only drove out every martial art previously learned and seized its place, but their very potency turned the martial artist into a thrall. Without innate talent, one had to reach the Peak Expert realm merely to grasp the reins of demonic arts.
Still, because they run on a completely different track from orthodox or unorthodox arts, they will surely grant a different perspective.
On the path of hegemony, the classification of martial arts did not matter. What mattered was whether they helped one reach the goal. If they could bring him to the ultimate of the sword, he would gladly accept even demonic arts.
Above all, the chance to clash head-on with great sects is rare.
Even the conflict with Mount Hua seven years ago had felt lukewarm to the Paegeommunju.
Martial strength, by its nature, is established only when there is an opponent.
Those orthodox practitioners forever emphasized effort and training, yet in the Paegeommunju's eyes that was only half the truth. No matter how diligently one trained, what meaning was there in merely swinging a blade at empty air? A blade needed a whetstone to be sharpened, and a clap required both hands. To raise the realm of martial arts, bloody combat where life and death hung in the balance was necessary.
They can preach the need for effort a hundred times, but once a man has crossed the brink of death, the fear of dying will make him strive of its own accord.
And if some survived by luck yet still refused to strive? Such chaff would vanish on its own before long; there was no need to care.
And this principle does not change greatly even after one becomes an expert.
Rather, the higher one's realm, the fewer opportunities to fight. The status gained by belonging to a great power, the reputation built over the years, and countless other chains bound a man and made free movement difficult. In the past he had lived fiercely to claim the seat of sect leader. After becoming Paegeommunju he had expanded Paegeommun's power until it rose into the Six Tyrant Coalition—yet now even the chance to face a true rival had vanished.
Therefore war is necessary.
A justification great enough to move even Peerless Experts. What situation other than war could force the sect leaders of great sects or the highest experts to take the field?
My prime is nearly spent.
It was an insight little different from the foresight of a Peerless Expert. Unorthodox arts that pursued hegemony could make one strong quickly, but they withered just as swiftly. Having lived so fiercely, the Paegeommunju was already approaching the end of his prime. In as little as one year, at most five, his realm would begin to regress.
I have delayed the decline through demonic arts, but even that will not last long.
Demonic arts were indiscriminate power; they did not care for the martial artist who used them. At best they merely lengthened the time one could pour out full strength. Yet what value was there in a treasured sword left to rot in its scabbard?
So I will challenge before my realm regresses.
He would wage bloody combat against Peerless Experts, gather what he gained from it, then push beyond Shaanxi into the entire Central Plains martial world, fighting and fighting again. He might fall to the Peerless Experts of Zhongnan and Mount Hua before he even left Shaanxi—but that would simply mean his vessel was only that large.
If I can seize the chance to reach the next realm, I will even accept the destruction of Paegeommun, and gladly become a piece on the board they have set.
As the Paegeommunju refined his thoughts alone, a flash of madness flickered through his eyes and was gone.
Cheonhwa gathered with his fellow disciples in answer to the summons. The Sect Leader was there, along with the elders and the entire leadership of the Zhongnan Sect. Okwon Jinin surveyed those present and spoke slowly.
"A short while ago, Paegeommun issued a declaration of war."
The words that left the old Taoist's lips were ones everyone present had anticipated, yet their weight was so heavy that the surrounding air itself seemed to grow dense.
"Zhongnan was not the only recipient. Mount Hua and the Hao Sect received it as well."
The three great sects that had joined forces to clear southern Shaanxi had all been challenged. It was a display of Paegeommun's confidence—that they believed they could win even against three great sects.
"This is total war in the truest sense."
A war that demanded every ounce of strength, one upon which the life or death of the sects themselves would turn. A reeking slaughter in which the brother or sister standing beside one today might never show their face again tomorrow. Cheonhwa observed the reactions of his fellow disciples. Though they were disciples of the Flower Character generation who had crossed the line of death more than once, the news that they would fight Paegeommun left clear tension on every face. Through the war with the Half-Dragon King Sect they had already tasted how unforgiving true war could be.
"Are you afraid?"
Okwon Jinin asked in a low voice.
"Fear is not strange. Death and war are things to be feared by their very nature. This old one is afraid as well. The knowledge that disciples of our mountain will lose their lives in this war fills me with boundless dread."
The old Taoist laid bare his heart to his disciples without reserve. The wrinkles that spoke of years of wind and wave twisted with sorrow. He was an old hand who had long survived the mountain of blades and forest of swords that was the jianghu, and thus he had watched countless Zhongnan disciples die. Yet no matter how many years passed, he could never grow accustomed to death.
"But one cannot turn away simply because one is afraid."
At the same time he knew full well that there were battles one could not avoid.
"The enemy's blade will not wait for us. Rather, it will seek the backs of those who flee."
Therefore only one choice remained.
"Protect yourselves. Protect your brothers and sisters. Protect those around you."
To stand and fight. That alone was the only path by which one could protect one's own life and so much more.
"And thus, survive."
The Sect Leader's heartfelt words sank deep into their chests. Without realizing it, Cheonhwa tightened his clenched fist. The same was true of every other disciple. They wanted to live. That was a primal instinct. No one wished to die. Yet fleeing was unacceptable. If they fled at this most critical hour, then what had all that blood and sweat of effort been for?
The tension melted away. In the eyes of Cheonhwa and every Zhongnan disciple, only fighting spirit remained. Watching the sight, Okwon Jinin felt pride mingled with a bitter ache. The third-generation disciples who had not yet even reached twenty had already become proper martial artists.
At last, war had begun.