Shaanxi Sword Conference (2)
The day of the Shaanxi Sword Conference arrived.
The mountain gate of the Zhongnan Sect stood wide open to receive its guests. As the senior disciple of the Hwa generation, Cheonhwa had been assigned the duty of welcoming them. The first to step through the gate were the invited notables, and among their faces was one he knew.
"It has been some time, Daoist Cheonhwa."
"Welcome to the Zhongnan Sect, Vice-Owner Gu Cheol-mun."
In place of the ever-busy Owner Gu Un-cheol, Gu Cheol-mun had come to represent the Hyeonhwang Blacksmith.
"I trust there have been no problems with Okgyeong or the Hyeonhwang Sword?"
"None at all. Both are in perfect condition."
"That is a relief."
The Hyeonhwang Sword was the longsword every Zhongnan disciple received upon becoming a formal disciple. True to its name, it was forged by the Hyeonhwang Blacksmith specifically for the sect. Being made of steel, it carried considerable weight, yet Cheonhwa could wield it freely—he was already accustomed to swinging Okgyeong, which was heavier still.
It was just as the Sinking Heavy Water Tree once claimed.
If one could freely handle a wooden sword carved from the branch of a spirit creature, there was no blade in the world one could not master. While his fellow disciples struggled to adjust to the Hyeonhwang Sword, Cheonhwa alone treated it as if it were nothing.
He was still speaking with Gu Cheol-mun when Myeonghwa appeared, bringing a man with him.
"Cheonhwa, so this is where you were!"
"Senior Brother Myeonghwa. And the gentleman beside you?"
"Let me introduce you. This is my older brother."
"A pleasure to meet you, Daoist Cheonhwa. I am Jang Un of the Cheongun Merchant Group."
Jang Un smiled as he offered the greeting. The smile that rested on his lips was so natural it almost felt unnatural—as if he were deliberately broadcasting that he was a harmless man.
A face that seems designed to declare its own innocence.
Perhaps sensing the quiet wariness Cheonhwa had begun to feel, Jang Un gave a bitter little smile.
"My brother was right about your instincts. This is the first time I've been met with such caution at a first meeting."
"Does that mean the smile was manufactured, just as I suspected?"
"Yes. A sort of occupational habit. A smiling face makes a good impression on someone you've never met before."
Saying that not smiling now would feel even more awkward, Jang Un once again produced a picture-perfect smile.
"There is no harm in forming a connection early with the senior disciple of the Hwa generation."
"I'm surprised. You don't hide your intentions at all—you speak so directly."
"It depends on the person, but martial artists seem to prefer this kind of bluntness. Especially with someone whose instincts are as sharp as yours, Daoist Cheonhwa, I judged it better to approach with complete honesty."
For Cheonhwa, being dealt with so openly was indeed more comfortable. Yet the fact that Jang Un had read his nature at a glance meant the man's intuition and eye for people were exceptional.
As if confirming Cheonhwa's assessment, Myeonghwa and Gu Cheol-mun each added a word.
"He may not look it, but he's the heir of the Cheongun Merchant Group—one of the three greatest in all of Shaanxi. When it comes to reading people, you can take his judgment to the bank."
"The Cheongun Merchant Group does frequent business with our blacksmith as well, so I know them well. Young Master Jang Un is among the more conscientious merchants."
After listening to them both, Cheonhwa regarded Jang Un. He could not yet say whether the man was good, but neither did he have enough grounds to call him bad. So he asked:
"In your view, Young Master Jang, what do you make of this Shaanxi Sword Conference?"
"It is a new kind of gathering—one that has never existed before. Until now the conference was limited to exchanges between Zhongnan and Huashan. This time the most renowned figures of Shaanxi Province have assembled in one place, so connections will form of their own accord. Quite a few people are thinking along the same lines as I am."
"And why go to such lengths to forge those connections?"
"For money, of course. To a merchant, nothing is more important."
"…You really are a merchant down to the bone."
Jang Un answered with a smile. Silence was affirmation.
A merchant traded to make money. Put another way, if money could be made, there was nothing he would not do. Building networks and smiling until the expression seemed glued to his face—those were merely means to that end.
"Are all merchants like you, Young Master Jang?"
"There are degrees of difference, but I do not think they are fundamentally different. A person who cannot be captivated by money will never become a great merchant."
"Then for the sake of money you would stop at nothing."
"It is the reverse. For the sake of money, one chooses one's means carefully. That is how you reduce the number of enemies, build credit, and earn even more."
Only then did Cheonhwa understand why Gu Cheol-mun had called Jang Un relatively conscientious. Jang Un believed that keeping to the proper path and never crossing certain lines was the true way to make great wealth. As long as that conviction held, he would remain a good merchant.
"This has been a truly profitable conversation."
"I merely laid bare my own thoughts."
"And in doing so you gave Daoist Cheonhwa peace of mind. You purchased trust. That alone makes it a profitable conversation."
"You are formidable with words."
"I live by this three-inch tongue. Without it I would be a corpse."
With that, Jang Un turned his gaze to his younger brother, Myeonghwa.
"I should go meet a few other people. I'll see you later, little brother."
"May you form many good connections, Elder Brother."
The two brothers parted lightly. Jang Un walked a short distance, then melted back into the crowd and began striking up conversations as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Watching how easily he spoke with complete strangers, one could truly believe that Myeonghwa and Jang Un were brothers.
"Sorry for the trouble, Cheonhwa. My brother was determined to make some kind of connection."
"It's fine. The Cheongun Merchant Group is a secular house that has long supported our sect. And knowing you, Senior Brother Myeonghwa, you would not have granted the favor without getting something in return."
"Of course not. In exchange for arranging the meeting with you, I got all sorts of outside news. Especially information about Huashan."
The fact that Jang Un had arrived with timely information on Huashan meant he had anticipated exactly this kind of exchange from the start. One might expect family to simply give information away free of charge—but perhaps it was the opposite. Because they were family, they were all the more rigorous about such transactions.
"I've heard something about Huashan myself—regarding weapons."
At the mention of Huashan, Gu Cheol-mun, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. Just as the Hyeonhwang Blacksmith supplied Zhongnan's longswords, Huashan relied on the Jade Plum Blacksmith—another of Shaanxi's two great forges and one of their own secular houses—to supply their weapons.
"Unlike the Hyeonhwang Blacksmith, which delivers Hyeonhwang Swords to every formal disciple of Zhongnan, the Jade Plum Blacksmith crafts weapons only for Huashan martial artists who have reached a certain level. Recently, I hear Huashan placed an order for weapons intended for their third-generation disciples."
"Ah, I've heard that as well. Among Huashan's third-generation, one disciple has reached a level worthy of receiving a Jade Plum Sword from the Jade Plum Blacksmith."
Taken together, Gu Cheol-mun's and Myeonghwa's words meant that among Huashan's third-generation disciples there was someone of exceptional skill.
I wonder what sort of person it is.
Cheonhwa's question was answered before long. One of the principal parties of the Shaanxi Sword Conference—the Huashan Sect—had arrived.
Led by a first-generation disciple of Huashan, the second- and third-generation disciples filed through Zhongnan's mountain gate. Waiting to receive them was Gakhyeon, first-generation disciple of Zhongnan and personal disciple of the Sect Leader.
"Welcome, Baekju."
"It has been a while, Gakhyeon."
Baekju, first-generation disciple of Huashan, answered Gakhyeon's greeting.
"I heard about Jinhyun. A great pity."
"Do not take it too much to heart. Jinhyun would not have wanted that."
"True. He could read the heavenly signs, and there was always something detached about him. He would tell us to live in the present rather than remain bound to the dead."
"We can speak of the rest inside. I will show you to the halls prepared for your lodging."
The Huashan disciples unpacked in their assigned quarters and took a brief rest. Ordinarily they would have spent a full day allowing disciples of both sects to mingle, but with so many notables gathered, the schedule of the Shaanxi Sword Conference began almost as soon as the rest period ended.
With disciples of Zhongnan and Huashan, as well as many renowned guests, assembled in one place, a rite was held to pray for the peace of the conference. Then, before the proceedings began in earnest, Baekju of Huashan stepped forward, and Gakhyeon of Zhongnan rose to meet him.
"Today is a meaningful occasion. Experience one another's martial studies, exchange with one another, and through the arts each of you pursues, take what you can learn."
"What matters at the Shaanxi Sword Conference is not victory or defeat. Focus on fully displaying the martial arts you have polished."
At last the two men met each other's eyes and spoke as one.
"The Shaanxi Sword Conference begins now!"
The moment the declaration fell, the waiting disciples of Zhongnan and Huashan began to move. The first event was a formation sparring match between the third-generation disciples. Thirty-six from each side advanced onto the sparring stage, wooden swords prepared specially for the day by the Hyeonhwang Blacksmith in their hands.
As senior disciple of Zhongnan, Cheonhwa saw them off as they mounted the stage.
"I'll be back, Ubo!"
"Time to show everything we've trained for!"
His Hwa-generation brothers and sisters greeted him with confident smiles. Ever since the raid by the Dark Night Assassination Pavilion, the Hwa generation had trained without pause—and that training had included formation drills. All of it driven by a single resolve: never again would that day's tragedy be allowed to repeat.
Thirty-six Zhongnan disciples found their places and formed ranks. The Thirty-Six Swords Formation Under Heaven, built upon the foundation of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven. Facing them was the Six Harmonies Sword Formation, built upon Huashan's basic Six Harmonies Sword Art. They too stood thirty-six strong, paired and ordered. When both sides were confirmed ready, the first-generation Zhongnan disciple serving as referee shouted:
"Begin!"
At the signal, seventy-two bodies moved as one. When so many advanced in perfect step, even the sound of their footfalls took on a heavy, unified weight. The pressure that settled over the sparring stage was of an entirely different order from a mere brawl of numbers.
"And this is only a basic formation?"
"Their foundations are solid. Without that, even a basic formation could never produce this kind of pressure."
"Both sides coordinate extraordinarily well. It does not look like many people moving—it looks like a single living creature."
The invited guests seated in the place of honor could not suppress their admiration. As notables of Shaanxi, they possessed no small knowledge of martial arts. That the formations of Zhongnan and Huashan could impress even such eyes spoke volumes about their quality.
Watching from below, Cheonhwa was no less astonished.
I already knew my brothers' and sisters' skill, but Huashan's third-generation are no less formidable.
In the eyes and movements of Huashan's third-generation disciples, Cheonhwa felt a desperation similar to that of Zhongnan's own.
Just as Zhongnan was attacked by the Dark Night Assassination Pavilion, Huashan was attacked by the Defeated Sword Gate.
Fortunately there had been no loss of life, yet many of Huashan's halls had burned, including the library that housed their martial manuals and the shrine that held the memorial tablets of generations of Huashan masters. The third-generation disciples who had been forced to watch it happen would have trained with gritted teeth ever since, determined that such a thing would never occur again.
This Shaanxi Sword Conference will not be easy.
They had been told not to cling to victory or defeat—yet they were martial artists brimming with competitive fire. So long as they sparred, striving for victory was only natural.
The formation match, which ended in a near draw, was followed by individual spars among ten carefully selected third-generation disciples. Now it was the turn of Zhongnan's carefully chosen third-generation—including Cheonhwa himself—to step forward.