Journey to Sichuan (2)

The boat bound for Yeonggang County.

The river looked calm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enough on the surface, but the vessel cutting through the current rocked far more than expected. And some people simply could not endure that rolling motion.

"Uweeeegh!"

Among the party, that someone was Yeobhwa.

He had the largest frame of anyone in the group, yet there he was, slumped against the railing, legs trembling like a newborn fawn. It was a pitiful enough sight to make anyone watching ache with sympathy.

"Are you all right?"

"I—I'm fi— urp!"

Cheonhwa caught him by the side and asked with genuine concern. Yeobhwa tried to force out an answer, but the boat heaved hard a moment later, and he could hold nothing back. He emptied his stomach all over again.

Myeonghwa watched the spectacle with a wry smile.

"Martial artists are usually strong against seasickness, but Junior Brother Yeobhwa seems to have it especially bad."

As the second son of the Cheongun Merchant Group, Myeonghwa had ridden boats more than a few times in his childhood, river outings included. Even so, he had never seen a first-class martial artist get this seasick.

"My apologies. Our companion has—"

"Oh, no need for that. Among first-time passengers, you get one like him every so often."

Jeokhwa apologized to the captain for the trouble Yeobhwa was causing. The captain waved it off, saying such things were hardly rare. That generous spirit owed a great deal to the ample gratuity they had already paid him in advance—a decision Myeonghwa had proposed and Jeokhwa had agreed to. Looking back, it had been an excellent choice.

The boat really is rocking hard.

This was only Cheonhwa's second time aboard a vessel. The first had been the pleasure barge he had boarded in the guise of a wastrel young master, slipping into the Muksangbang auction. That ship had not swayed like this one. The difference in size, he suspected, was the reason.

With this much motion, even moving around won't be easy.

When the footing itself is unstable, keeping one's center of gravity becomes difficult. And once that center wavers, even walking properly turns into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a struggle.

If your balance is shot and you can't plant your steps, of course you can't use martial arts properly either.

Even if someone managed to overcome that, techniques of excessive force would damage the ship itself—and a single misstep could send a person overboard. Martial artists who had never learned water arts for free movement underwater, or lightfoot techniques like Water-Skimming Flight or the Muryeokdapsu, the Water-Treading Technique, became utterly helpless once they hit the water. There was a reason so many fighters dreaded shipboard combat.

That's why they say some martial arts are designed specifically for use on ships.

He had heard that such arts were mostly practiced by the government's naval forces or by black-path fighters from the waterway strongholds. Techniques useful only in the most limited of circumstances—yet the difference between having them and not having them would be enormous.

What if we ran into river pirates right now?

It was an ominous thought, but hardly an improbable one. Cheonhwa and every member of his party were unfamiliar with shipboard fighting. They would struggle to deploy their full martial arts. River pirates, by contrast, would be thoroughly accustomed to combat on the water—and some, he had heard, even trained in water arts so they could surge up from beneath the surface to strike.

We can't bring our full strength to bear, while they can. That puts us at a severe disadvantage.

They would not lose easily, but even a victory would almost certainly come at a heavy cost.

So how do we seize the upper hand against river pirates?

He was still sunk in thought when someone tugged at his sleeve. Cheonhwa looked up to find Yeonhwa standing before him.

"What is it, Junior Sister Yeonhwa?"

"Over there."

Yeonhwa pointed past the horizon. Cheonhwa's gaze followed her finger.

At the end of that line of sight was a ship coming straight toward them. The mere presence of another vessel was nothing strange—plenty of boats plied the Han River. But the presence rolling off the approaching craft was anything but ordinary, and its silhouette was distinctly different from a common merchant ship. Above all, the way it drove toward them in a dead-straight line felt wrong.

A dark premonition seized him. Cheonhwa immediately alerted the others.

Sure enough, a crewman who had spotted the vessel went deathly pale and shouted.

"River pirates!"

Unwelcome guests—and ones carrying blades, no less. The only silver lining was that they had been spotted early enough to give the crew some time to react.

"Turn the ship around! We have to run for the nearest dock!"

At the captain's cry, the bow swung about and they fled back the way they had come. Yet for some reason the distance to the pirate warship refused to open. Worse—it was slowly closing.

"Damn it, they're faster!"

"Their ship's bigger, and still that quick?!"

"They're riding the current perfectly!"

"At this rate they'll catch us before we ever reach a dock!"

The crew's shouts rang out across the deck. They were fleeing with everything they had, and still the pirates were faster. Being overtaken was only a matter of time.

"Senior Brother Myeonghwa, are river pirates common on the Han River?"

"Not as much as on the main channel of the Yangtze, but this is still a tributary. They show themselves from time to time."

The heretical Yangtze Waterway Sect projected its influence over any river connected to the Yangtze. Wherever those waters ran, river pirates of one size or another were sure to exist. Their primary hunting grounds, however, were the Yangtze's main course. On tributaries like the Han, the crews tended to be smaller fry. That Cheonhwa's party had run into them at all was simply bad luck.

"We should prepare for the worst."

At Cheonhwa's words, the others nodded and checked their weapons. None of them wanted a fight on the deck—but if battle became unavoidable, they would have to protect the crew from harm.

Of course, that won't be easy either. Honestly, just looking after ourselves will be hard enough.

As Cheonhwa had already feared, shipboard combat was the pirates' specialty. From everything he had heard, even if they ran, they would be caught soon enough.

So what do we do?

The answer he had been turning over earlier rose to the surface of his mind.

If fighting on the ship is the problem, then stop them before they board.

Cheonhwa fixed his eyes on the approaching pirate warship. He lacked the principles of flight techniques, so striking from a great distance was impossible—but if he wove together the principles of weight and force, he could smash them at close range.

But that also raises the risk of damaging the ship we're standing on.

He was still wrestling with the choice when Yeonhwa gave him a light jab in the side.

"You've thought of something, haven't you?"

"…Yes."

"Then do it."

"Is that really all right?"

"We're not getting away cleanly either way. Trying something is better than nothing."

Yeonhwa gave the hesitant Cheonhwa a shove between the shoulder blades. He steeled himself and spoke.

"Tell everyone to hold on tight. The ship may rock hard."

With that warning left behind, Cheonhwa adjusted his grip ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on Okgyeong and poured his inner force into the blade. Qi and kinetic power flashed along the jade-bright sword body—an application of heavy-sword principles drawn from the essentials of the Nine Forms Sword Method and the Star Net Sword Method.

Then he stepped forward.

With his senses honed through the Yukhapgamgakdo, the Six Harmony Sensory Path, he matched his movement to the rolling waterway. Too much force and the deck planks would splinter, so he was careful with the distribution of power.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

With every step, the ship shuddered. It was a strange, quaking footwork timed to the river's motion and the vessel's sway—the Diamond Step, a walking method for stacking balgyeong, the release of stored force.

Cheonhwa advanced slowly toward the stern, calling up the principles of the strong sword as he went.

The core of the White Steel Sword Method is chukgyeong—stored jin.

How quickly one could stack the force of balgyeong. How one could detonate that stored jin and then harness even the rebound. At full mastery, a practitioner could detonate chukgyeong without end, limited only by what flesh and blood would allow.

It doesn't stop at the rebound of a single step. Through the knees, the waist, the shoulders, the elbows—every joint multiplies the force.

That generated balgyeong he then seized with his true qi and packed through his entire body. From here, it was critical. Simply detonating the stored force would not be enough to stop the pirates' approach. Even if he compressed it to the utmost with heavy-sword principles and launched it, it would fall far short.

Because the power itself is insufficient.

If the sword force riding the form were great enough, even a massive warship could be matched. To that end, Cheonhwa meant to draw on the principles of the Great Heaven Steel Sword Method.

It is called Great Heaven because it aims at the vast sky, and Steel Sword because it drives forward with unyielding force.

Then how does one cut the vast sky?

Wring out everything.

Balgyeong, inner force, intent. Gather the three elements of essence, energy, and spirit into a single point and detonate them all at once. That method—so simple it was pure—was the very essence of the Great Heaven Steel Sword Method. Even the inner-force barrier he had wrapped around himself for protection was drawn into Okgyeong.

Preparations complete, Cheonhwa gauged the distance to the pirates. As they closed to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠point-blank range, he could see how they moved—hooks on ropes, ready to board.

But before the pirates could make their attempt, the jade-bright blade that had been raised to the heavens came sweeping down.

KRAAAAK!

The sound of the air being torn apart, of the river splitting open, reached them a beat late. An instant later, the prow of the pirate warship split cleanly in two.

KUUUUUNG!

The sundered waters crashed back together, hurling up a colossal spray. That vast surge swallowed the pirate vessel and dragged it under—and of course the pirates aboard were caught in it as well. At the same time, the rolling swell seemed to shove their own fleeing ship forward, and the distance to the pirates opened in a single breath.

"Haa…"

Having sunk the pirate warship with a single stroke, Cheonhwa drew a deep breath. Wringing out every last scrap of his strength had left his body far from normal. His muscles felt as though they were melting; his qi and blood were overheated, on the verge of twisting out of control; and he had overdrawn his intent so severely that a headache was already blooming.

It takes too long to prepare, and after one strike I'm too exhausted to move. I can't use this in a real fight.

Still, he had kept the pirates from closing. The purpose had been achieved. Cheonhwa circulated his Hyeoncheon-jingi through the art's restorative properties and through pupil breathing, coaxing his body back toward recovery. When he finally managed to steady himself and look around, he found every gaze fixed on him in stunned disbelief.

"G-Great Hero… w-who are you?"

The captain's voice trembled. Watching someone shatter a pirate warship from a distance, he had clearly decided this was no ordinary martial artist.

Cheonhwa answered with a rueful smile.

"I am Cheonhwa, a third-generation disciple of the Zhongnan Sect."

The captain's eyes went wide.

"Th-the Jade Light Sword?!"

"Yes. That is what they call me."

"I had heard of the Jade Light Sword's renown, of course, but I never imagined it was to this degree…!"

Awe burst from the captain's mouth, and the rest of the crew were little different. Flustered by the sudden fervor, Cheonhwa cast a pleading look toward his companions—only for Myeonghwa to step forward as their representative and wave both hands, making it clear that no rescue would be forthcoming.

In the end, Cheonhwa had no choice but to sit on pins and needles all the way to the nearest dock.