The Azure Sky Sword Hero
Muyeongjicheo, Gwibulmu. Where no shadow falls, the ghost does not dance.
“A place without shadows is a place where ghosts cannot dance, they say.”
Ak Mookyeol stared fixedly at the words inscribed on the scrap of silk.
A short, strange sentence. Yet before he could even turn its meaning over in his mind, something else seized his eye — the calligraphy itself. It flowed like running water, fluid and graceful, but at the tip of every stroke it split sharply, like the forked tongue of a serpent.
Sama Ryun.
It was the Gunsa's hand.
Though to be fair, this alone isn't quite enough to pin it on him.
By itself, this handwriting couldn't conclusively prove that the strategist stood behind the Ghost Mask Pact.
“Is this all there is?”
Ak Mookyeol set the scrap of silk down on the table as he asked. In response, Namgung Cheon drew a worn old booklet from his robe — a volume with nothing at all written on its cover.
“What's that?”
“Take a look.”
Ak Mookyeol picked up the booklet and leafed through it. As he read the passages within, his brow creased almost imperceptibly.
“……Isn't this just a foundational breathing exercise? The kind every sect teaches its beginners.”
Even to a Transcendent Realm master like himself, the contents seemed utterly unremarkable. Why on earth would Namgung Cheon have carried this back all the way from Dream Ring Island?
Then Namgung Cheon spoke quietly.
“Look again. Properly this time.”
He pressed his finger to a particular passage.
“The qi that departs the dantian appears to ascend the Conception Vessel from the Guanyuan point — but in truth—”
Namgung Cheon touched his own chest, over the heart.
“—it ultimately stimulates the Danzhong point to reach into one's Innate Qi. It's a cultivation method that burns the heart's essence-blood.”
“……!”
Ak Mookyeol's hand trembled faintly.
Hearing Namgung Cheon's explanation and rereading the passages, their meaning took on a terrible new weight.
“This is what they intended to teach the children. To use them as tools.”
“……”
Ak Mookyeol stared silently at the booklet, thinking.
If hundreds, thousands of people trained in this art were loosed upon the Jianghu — and if he had to face them in battle—
Horrifying.
And another thought rose in tandem with the first. He tore his gaze from the booklet and looked at Namgung Cheon.
His understanding of martial theory has passed beyond the bounds of common sense.
Reaching a higher realm required enlightenment to walk hand in hand with a deep grasp of martial learning. Yet Ak Mookyeol, himself a master of the Transcendent Realm, had failed to recognize what this booklet truly was — while Namgung Cheon had seen through it at a glance.
Which means he has the foundation to climb to a realm beyond even mine.
As Ak Mookyeol studied him in silence, Namgung Cheon slipped the booklet back into his breast.
“I'll be keeping this. The silk is evidence enough for your purposes.”
He indicated the scrap of silk on the table. Only then did Ak Mookyeol collect himself and offer a wry smile, though he made no move to demand the booklet back.
“Good work. As for the payment we agreed on—”
“I don't need it right now.”
Namgung Cheon cut him off. Ak Mookyeol's eyes narrowed.
“Trying to erase a debt, are you? Do you think such tricks will work on me—”
“You suspect the Gunsa, don't you. As the power behind the Ghost Mask Pact.”
“……!”
Struck to the quick, Ak Mookyeol's pupils wavered.
Namgung Cheon continued.
“You're the commander of the Black Wind Squad, so there are only three people in a position to give you orders. The Alliance Chief, the Vice Chief, and the Gunsa.”
Holding up three fingers, Namgung Cheon folded them down one by one as he spoke.
“The Alliance Chief is in closed-door cultivation, so he's out. The Vice Chief inherited the Chief's martial arts and has a temper like wildfire — hardly the type to orchestrate something this sneaky. That leaves only one, doesn't it?”
The logic was so crystalline that Ak Mookyeol found himself without a word of rebuttal. A chill smile crossed Namgung Cheon's lips as he spoke.
“Ampilgun, the Hidden Brush of Talent — Sama Ryun. If you break your promise…… can you swear to me that this scrap of silk, and the fact that I know of it, will never find their way into Ampilgun's ears?”
Ak Mookyeol went rigid.
“……Is that a threat?”
“Call it minimal collateral. It works in your favor too, no? Better than me collecting your payment and then threatening you with this.”
“……”
Namgung Cheon lifted his teacup and went on.
“Then I'll contact you when I do need something. Until then, keep your head down — naturally, you'll want to do the same.”
Ak Mookyeol rose from his seat.
“Looks like you'd best keep your head down as well. And still……”
Pulling his bamboo hat low over his eyes, Ak Mookyeol spoke in a low voice.
“Thank you for destroying the Ghost Mask Pact.”
Then Namgung Cheon spoke up once more.
“Ah — one more thing.”
“What is it?”
“I heard there's a transaction scheduled for the Zishi hour tonight. If word of the Ghost Mask Pact's downfall hasn't reached them yet, the buyers may well still show up.”
“……!”
Ak Mookyeol flinched and spun around. Remnants of the Ghost Mask Pact — or the outside forces who had come to trade with them — a chance to sweep up every last one in a single stroke. It was decisive intelligence.
“My thanks.”
With a brief word of gratitude, Ak Mookyeol left the room without a shred of hesitation.
Silence settled over the room. Left alone, Namgung Cheon gazed into his empty teacup and sank into thought.
The transaction at the Zishi hour tonight. The reason he had chosen not to confirm it himself was simple.
There's no telling who would come, or how many.
There was no need to shoulder that risk personally. He had already handed the information to Ak Mookyeol; if the buyers failed to appear, the night would pass without incident. And if they did appear—
Then Ak Mookyeol gains his lead.
And with whom he would share that lead was obvious.
He'll have no choice but to contact me again.
Namgung Cheon set down his teacup and rose to his feet. There was nothing left to do here. All that remained was—
His gaze turned toward the room next door.
'They said all of them are orphans of the endless sky now.'
Children with nowhere to go, no one to lean on. And yet he could hardly bring them back to the Namgung Clan. He had neither the leisure to care for them nor any intention of doing so.
In that case……
Namgung Cheon fell into brief deliberation. Somewhere not far from Lake Dongting. A place that would desperately need children of such exceptional talent. A single place surfaced in his mind — a sect that, even as the Unorthodox Path flourished, had refused to bend, keeping the orthodox lineage upright and unbroken. It was, after all, a place he had already meant to visit while he was in the area around Lake Dongting.
Yes. That's where they should go.
The White Lotus Sword Sect.
There, these children could be taken in. And one day, these remarkable children would become the deepest, firmest roots holding that place aloft.
A faint smile touched Namgung Cheon's lips.
The Beggars' Union — the largest sect in all the world by sheer numbers, the place where every scrap of news under heaven gathered and scattered alike. And among all its branches, the Dongting Lake Branch was regarded as the cream of the crop, the choicest posting of all.
The reason was simple. Lake Dongting was where the waterways of the world converged — merchant caravans passed through in endless procession, and countless brothels and inns led by the Yueyang Tower kept their lanterns burning day and night. In a word, it was a land overflowing with things to eat. For beggars whose daily lot was a gnawing empty stomach, Dongting Lake — where one never had to worry about going hungry — was nothing short of paradise. Thanks to that, the Dongting Lake Branch had grown to several times the size of any ordinary branch, and the Branch Leader who managed it was no ordinary figure either.
“BUUURP—!”
The Branch Leader, Jang Pal the Ten-Thousand Blessings Beggar, slapped his belly and let out a magnificent burp. Five knots hung at his waist — a Five-Knot elder. Compared to the ordinary Branch Leader's three knots, it was a wildly exceptional rank.
“Ahh, that hit the spot. The roast duck at the Yueyang Tower really is delicious even when it's gone cold.”
Jang Pal chuckled as he picked his teeth with a duck bone. Just then, hurried footsteps came rushing from outside.
“Branch Leader! Branch Leader!”
Yuk Son, a second-knot beggar, came scrambling through the door, out of breath, his face flushed red all the way to his ears.
“Tsk, where are your manners! Didn't I tell you to lie down and rest until your food settles after a meal?”
Though Jang Pal glared at him with feigned sternness, Yuk Son paid it no mind and gasped out his report between heaving breaths.
“This is no time for that! Lake Dongting is in an uproar right now!”
“Why? Did the courtesans of the Yueyang Tower go on strike?”
“No, it's not that — it's the Ghost Mask Pact! They say every last one of them is dead!”
“What?”
The duck bone dropped from Jang Pal's fingers.
The Ghost Mask Pact. Even the Beggars' Union had been keeping a wary eye on them — there had even been talk at the Union's General Headquarters of formally designating them as a public menace to the martial world.
“Who killed them? Did the Four Black Alliance storm their base?”
“No, sir! That's the thing…… according to the lads, only two people moved!”
“Just TWO?!”
Jang Pal's eyes bulged from his head.
What manner of foe was the Ghost Mask Pact? Their stronghold on Dream Ring Island was a fortress gifted by nature itself, and there were even rumors that their Pact Leader had reached the Transcendent Realm. And all of that, undone by just two people?
“Who? What kind of lunatics pull off something like that?”
Yuk Son swallowed hard before answering.
“One of them is said to be the Absolute Extinction Sword!”
“Ahh!”
Jang Pal slapped his knee. If it was the Absolute Extinction Sword, that made sense — the man was a Transcendent Realm master whose name already rang throughout the Jianghu. But that would mean the other one was…
Jang Pal's gaze turned cold and sharp.
“The Absolute Extinction Sword entered Namgung Cheon's service as his retainer, so the other must be the Namgung Clan's third young master — Namgung Cheon. It was done under his direction, then.”
“Yes, sir! That's how it looks!”
“Whew……”
Jang Pal was left speechless. The young prodigy of Anhui who had performed every manner of righteous deed and even bested the Flood Dragon of the Yangtze. He had heard the rumors well enough. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the boy would come all the way to Hunan and pull off a stunt of this magnitude.
“The real deal. That boy is the genuine article.”
Jang Pal clicked his tongue.
“So they rescued the abducted children too?”
“Yes! And that's why the marketplace is in absolute chaos right now — the word's only just gotten out, and people can't stop singing the young master's praises. Their mouths are going dry from talking about him!”
Yuk Son babbled on in his excitement.
“Folks are hanging every kind of nickname you can imagine on him, and there's one that sounds the most fitting of all. Care to hear it?”
“What is it? Stop stalling and spit it out.”
Yuk Son puffed out his chest and spoke with great ceremony.
“The Azure Sky Sword Hero! Magnificent, isn't it?”
At that, Jang Pal stared blankly at Yuk Son for a moment — then burst into hearty laughter.
“HAHAHAHA! 'Azure Sky' of Namgung, crossed with 'Sword Hero'…… well, fair enough. A deed like that deserves a name like that.”
Still chuckling, Jang Pal stroked his beard. He was delighted. Delighted clear down to his bones.
The Beggars' Union — a gathering of those who had nothing at all, surviving on begging alone. Because they lived at the very bottom of the world, they understood better than anyone the bitterness of the weak. They were men who had felt, down to the marrow, the agony of being trampled by those with power. That was why they revered and upheld xia — chivalry. Those who drew their blades for the weak, those who stood between the strong and their tyranny — such men were the only true heroes.
But Hunan was Four Black Alliance territory, through and through. The Union could not step forward here — and must not. Moreover, the Ghost Mask Pact had long been suspected of some shadowy connection with the Four Black Alliance. And yet now they had been wiped out. In Hunan itself, where the Four Black Alliance kept its main headquarters — and by a young master of Namgung, no less.
At this extraordinary turn of events, the corner of Jang Pal's mouth curled upward ever so slightly.
It's an egg striking a boulder, but we've just gained ourselves a counterweight against the Four Black Alliance.
Jang Pal's eyes gleamed.
“Send the lads out. I want this news spreading to every corner of Lake Dongting — no, all across Hunan. And tell them to make it LOUD.”
“Yes, sir!”
Yuk Son went darting off. Jang Pal paced the branch hall with his hands clasped behind his back, then looked out the window. Far away, the blue waves of Lake Dongting glittered in the sunlight.
“Namgung Cheon, is it……”
Jang Pal murmured quietly.
“Well, well. The Jianghu has itself a true one at last.”
A deep smile spread across his lips. In this Jianghu reeking of rot, here at last was a breath of fresh air.
The Heavenly Demon of Namgung
Author | Baek Rihaeng
Publisher | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Managing Editor | Editorial Department
Published by | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. — Dreambooks
Address | 7th Floor, Gwangseong Building, 28 Bongeunsa-ro 114-gil, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
ISBN | 979-11-7306-734-1
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