#53. The First-Rate Warrior Who Surprised the Divine Sword
“The Black Flame Dragon Hero asked you to go on ahead.”
Jin Taesan, lord of Tae-eul Gate's Outer Hall, felt a throbbing in his temples. Yet another one.
A modest procession led by two carriages appeared. Up front were a dozen or so young nobles and what looked like their female swordswoman escorts. There were no family or sect insignias. But even to Jin Taesan, who couldn't tell sackcloth from fine silk, the clothes on that young noble screamed wealth and status. He had no choice but to tread carefully.
“And who might this Black Flame Dragon be...?”
Jin Taesan asked for confirmation, and the young noble answered without hesitation.
“I'm talking about Brother Jin Sowoon.”
“Haa...”
Lately, he'd been hearing this Black Flame Dragon moniker nonstop, but he still couldn't get used to it.
Of all people, the king of the unorthodox paths had to be the one who gave him that nickname.
He'd first encountered it with an entourage of staggering scale. A hundred ge of rice, a hundred bolts of silk and cotton, two hundred high-quality Cheonggang swords among various instruments and gear. The Outer Hall lord, who should have been thrilled by these gifts, felt suspicion first.
The Wang Merchant Group wouldn't send something like this without prior notice.
If not them, then who the hell would send such extravagant presents?
“These are from the lord of the Four Desolate Peaks.”
“Wh-what?!”
He'd nearly jumped out of his skin at the name. If the orthodox Murim had the Nine Great Sects and Eight Schools, the unorthodox had the Four Gates, Eight Rooms, and One Peak. The Four Desolate Peaks claimed that one peak, representing the pinnacle of the black path's martial world.
“I think you've got the wrong place. We're Tae-eul Gate from Hebi.”
Expecting them to take the goods back, Jin Taesan watched the merchant check his documents and nod.
“Yes, it's correct. To Tae-eul Gate's Black Flame Dragon hero.”
“...Tae-eul Gate is right, but we have no one with the moniker Black Flame Dragon.”
Typical black path types—sticking 'black' or 'flame' on up-and-coming youngsters' nicknames. What a spectacle.
But the merchant's next words left him stunned.
“...Isn't there a Jin Sowoon of Tae-eul Gate?”
“N-no way...”
“Yes. His moniker is Black Flame Dragon... Ah! The rumors must not have reached Anhui yet. The Four Desolate Peaks lord personally gifted the Black Flame Dragon moniker to Jin Sowoon hero.”
What the hell has this damned kid been up to, getting nicknames from the black path's overlord?
That's how he'd learned about the Mareung Plateau incident. Hearing the details, Jin Taesan was left speechless.
“...”
“The Black Flame Dragon hero's feats at Hunan Province's Mareung Plateau will be hailed forever, unmatched by any contemporary martial artist.”
All good. Great, even. Putting aside black and white to save lives in crisis—who wouldn't be proud? What father wouldn't rejoice at his son benefiting the world?
But.
Still, Black Flame Dragon? It sounds just like some sacred icon of the black path Murim.
The nickname grated on him.
“Understood. However, as one of the 108 Peaks under the Murim Alliance of the orthodox world, we can't accept such excessive gifts.”
The already precarious status of the 108 Peaks could face utter ruin from Four Desolate Peaks gifts. But the merchant's response left Jin Taesan gaping again.
“Ah... It says here that if you refuse, he'll deem our sincerity lacking and lead his disciples here personally...”
“Where do I sign?”
“...”
The merchant's gaze sharpened at the abrupt reversal, but better that than sharing drinks with the Four Desolate Peaks lord. Plus, one gift wouldn't make the orthodox elites shun Tae-eul Gate.
But.
“...”
“A gift from the Black Market Alliance's chief to the Black Flame Dragon hero.”
“A gift from the Blood Tiger Sect's young lord to the Black Flame Dragon hero.”
“A gift from the Nine Dragon Guild's chief to the Black Flame Dragon hero.”
An endless parade of gifts. Tae-eul Gate's five-century history was set for unprecedented financial boom, but Jin Taesan wanted to flee into the night.
This looks just like we've allied with the black path Murim.
The silver lining? After the black path onslaught, orthodox sects started visiting.
“The Shangyang Sect lord thanks Tae-eul Gate's lord for raising such a fine disciple.”
“Oh my~ No need for such words. Come in and stay a few days.”
Paltry compared to black path gifts, and lesser sects to boot, but at least no 'Black Flame Dragon' nonsense. Jin Taesan welcomed them warmly, insisting they stay despite protests, even hosting rare banquets before sending them off.
At least this way, suspicions of black path collusion might ease a bit.
Just as he caught his breath.
Twenty men in scholarly robes visited Tae-eul Gate.
“What brings you to our humble sect...?”
“Ah! Forgive my late introduction. I'm Yu Ji-ryang of Mosanpa, dispatched by my sect to repay my debt to Jin hero.”
“Uh... uh... wh-what...?”
Jin Taesan's mind blanked. Mosanpa? That Mosanpa of the 108 Peaks? Not one of the Nine Great Sects, but vital as the Jegal family for formations—perfect for those unable to deploy Jegal Geomunjinbeop.
Why would they come to Tae-eul Gate?
“Jin hero requested we install Geomunjinbeop formations at Tae-eul Gate.”
Jin Taesan's gaping mouth wouldn't close.
“Wha? With what money?!”
This fearless brat plans to buy the world with one Seven-Colored Treasure Bead? Hiring Mosanpa without fear?
Admiration flickered before plummeting to 'world's most infuriating punk,' but Yu Ji-ryang's words were unbelievable.
“Ah, we'll cover all costs. No need to worry.”
“!!!!”
Through this saga, Jin Taesan lost all capacity to be shocked by Jin Sowoon's monikers or visitors. He was sure nothing could surprise him now.
Calming himself, he addressed the handsome young noble.
“What brings you to Tae-eul Gate, young master?”
“Oh, come on. No need for formal speech. I'm way your junior.”
His demeanor, speech, attitude—all screamed high nobility.
“Ahem, got it. What errand did that Black Flame Dragon fellow send you on?”
“...'Fellow' is a bit much, isn't it?”
“Hm?”
Polite and deferential moments ago, now his attitude flipped. The female swordswoman beside him radiated menace too.
“He saved nearly five thousand lives at Mareung Plateau and captured the Iron Armored Prosperity Envoy for the peace of Yungzhongshan villages! He's no 'fellow' to be dismissed like that!”
The once-courteous noble looked ready to duel a blood feud; the swordswoman seemed itching to draw her twin blades.
Jin Taesan swallowed hard and soothed them.
“S-sorry. That kid Jin Sowoon pulls so many unexpected stunts, my tongue slipped. If I've offended, I apologize.”
“...”
“...”
At the apology, the pair's expressions turned oddly complex. Exchanging glances, the noble cautiously asked,
“If it's not rude... what relation are you to Jin Sowoon hero?”
“Me? I'm his father.”
“!”
“!”
Their eyes bulged like rabbits'. They dropped to their knees on the dirt, kowtowing.
“F-forgive us! We spoke rudely to our benefactor's father. Mercy!”
“Mercy!”
“Wh-what?”
Unfazed by soiling their silk robes—like they'd roll in the dirt—Jin Taesan grew anxious and pulled them up.
“It's fine. Really. No—defending my son makes me like you more. Rise.”
“Truly sorry, Father.”
“Truly sorry, Father.”
Back to politeness, Jin Taesan chuckled wryly.
“Heh heh, really. I said it's fine.”
The noble stepped forward, resolute.
“Father, I've sworn to serve Jin Sowoon hero as my brother for life. Treat me freely from now on.”
“...You've sworn brotherhood?”
“Yes. I wanted him as my lord, but he refused outright.”
He looked genuinely regretful. Hearing the tale, Jin Taesan smirked.
From his view, better his son be this sharp kid's brother than some lord. Unlike Jin Sowoon, the boy seemed clever.
Of his son's unknown deeds, this brotherhood pleased him most.
“Heh heh, even I think brother suits better than lord. Feels like I've gained another son—solid comfort.”
“Brother's father is like my own. I'll serve with all I have.”
“You're already better than that Jin Sowoon punk. Thanks just for saying it.”
“I'll prove it with actions.”
The boy aping adulthood was endearingly cute.
“Right, what's your name?”
“Cheongi. Call me Cheongi.”
“Good name. Family name?”
“Yes. House of Jegal.”
“.........Huh? Is there a 'Jegal' surname?”
“The Jegal family, Father.”
“...”
“Might your name be...?”
“Jegal with 'hyeon' and 'un' characters.”
“Ah... Then your father...?”
“Jegal with 'so' and 'myeong' characters.”
“...”
Suspicions solidified at Jegal Somyeong's name.
“Aha! So your grandfather works at the Murim Alliance?”
“Yes. I'm always proud.”
“...”
Jin Taesan's 'nothing can surprise me' vow shattered.
“Father?”
“Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
“Yes? I'm fine.”
“...?”
“...Shall we go in? Young master?”
“...?”
Jin Taesan genuinely wondered what vendetta-worthy feats his son was pulling.
#
“Why are my ears itching?”
I scratched my ear amid research on the Azure Dragon Ring and Crimson Bead.
“The only ones badmouthing me are... future Small Justice Squad and current Dad...”
Hadn't met the squad yet, and I was heaven-sent filial to Dad now—no suspects.
“...Anyway, need more study on using these.”
My conclusion: Don't overuse the Azure Dragon Ring.
No matter how famed a hero saving lives, witnesses seeing me absorb true qi would peg me as a demonic cultivator—nothing more, nothing less.
Plus, absorbing demonic qi brought heavy fatigue.
“There must be a way.”
The Crimson Bead purified demonic qi. Hypothesis: Pair it right, absorb qi without fatigue.
If that works...
Even in future righteous-demonic war, I wouldn't retreat helplessly like before.
Regrettably, no demonic foes to test on.
“Not like I won't meet more. Demons overflow—never short on them.”
Done pondering, I stretched and scanned the luxurious room.
I was staying at Cheongmyeong Escort Agency.
Last night's Flame Demon Ghost Eyes Corps corpses went to Moyong family warriors; much talk of their techniques ensued.
Moyong Sangwon decided: some corpses to Moyong family, some to Murim Alliance.
The Demonic Cult's five-century absence would stir identity confusion awhile.
Small mercy: Traces found meant earlier vigilance than past life? Reports might get buried, though.
“Awake, sir?”
A maid asked from outside.
“...Yes.”
Three maids entered with basins, clothes, etc.
“Young lord says banquet tonight—must attend.”
I'd begged off his family invite, promising later; he proposed agency banquet instead.
Insisting on banquet away from home...
Moyong Sangwon clearly planned to publicly declare me his lifesaver.
Beyond martial prowess, owing life meant announcing Moyong debt to Tae-eul Gate—broadcast to the world.
Personal debts via tokens; banquets symbolized public acknowledgment.
Should the young lord make such a call lightly?
Inviting even Namgung aid—pure resolve to declare openly.
I could only nod to his intent.
“Got it. Tell him I'll prepare.”
“Yes.”
But the maids lingered.
“Face washed?”
“Squeaky clean.”
“Then let's go.”
“Pardon?”
Door flew open; five more maids dragged me to steaming wooden tub.
“Wha—this... no, wait! Why wash face then? Wait! Don't undress me!”
Before protesting, they stripped me, scrubbed every inch in the tub.
Out forcibly bathed, dressed in black silk, hair oiled and neatened.
Bronze mirror showed a refined noble stranger.
“Heh heh, you look the part now, Jin Sowoon.”
A look I'd never worn past life. Maybe the hero I'd dreamed of pre-war: mighty arts, dashing through Jianghu...
“Small Justice Squad would've died laughing.”
#
Sunset; maid led to banquet hall.
Escort agency's escorts, Moyong warriors, Namgung warriors already chatted.
“Oh! There he is!”
I entered; Moyong Sangwon shot up, all Moyong, Namgung, agency folk rising in unison.
“...!”
Silence blanketed the hall.
“Come here.”
Dazed by the suddenness, I sat beside him at his gesture.
Thud. All sat perfectly synced.
I was getting scared now.
“Introduce yourselves. This is Jin Sowoon hero, my lifesaver—who fought deathmatches for me repeatedly.”
Moyong and agency warriors bolted up again, clasping fists roaring,
“““Our deepest thanks for your grace, Black Flame Dragon hero!”””
Stunned, Moyong Sangwon winked, nudging me.
“...Ah, yes. Thanks for the warm welcome.”
Frozen by their intensity, I idiotically returned the fist-clasp; they sat.
Moyong Sangwon beamed proudly; his warriors self-satisfied.
If I'd known gratitude banquets were this embarrassing, I'd have dodged this too.
Then.
A Namgung warrior before Namgung Seonhwa stood abruptly.
“We too wish to give belated thanks.”
Even you guys?
Before finishing the thought, Namgung warriors surged up, bellowing louder—like competition.
“““Our deepest thanks for your grace, Black Flame Dragon hero!”””
“...Y-yes, j-just doing what anyone would.”
I wanted to crawl into a hole. Better fight Flame Demon Ghost Eyes Corps again—vowed never another gratitude banquet.
“That's all, right?”
“Puhahaha! Your face is persimmon-red!”
Banquet finally started; attention off me, I could eat.
But Namgung Seonhwa slammed chopsticks down.
“...You okay, Sowoon?”
She'd looked sour since start.
Unhappy with banquet? I asked,
“Why so reckless?”
“...Me?”
“Yes. You. Even for young lord, charging alone was insane.”
“...”
Unaware of details, her words weren't wrong—but wrong place.
This was young lord's thanks. She knew etiquette, yet scowled.
Namgung San intervened.
“Seonhwa, I get worrying for Jin hero, but not fitting here. Apologize to young lord.”
“But...”
Moyong Sangwon spoke.
“No. Good call. Seonhwa, you said what I wanted— no apology needed.”
He laughed heartily, though he could've bristled.
“But senior...”
“No! Seonhwa's right this time. Sowoon, even knowing traps via memory, it was reckless. Never again. Remember: as you value foes, others value you.”
“...I'll remember.”
His gaze held fatherly pride.
Banquet thawed thanks to him, but Namgung San pondered gravely.
“Maybe not reckless after all.”
“Hm?”
Foes even Moyong Sangwon and guards couldn't handle. Yet Namgung San continued casually.
“All calculations in Jin hero's head.”
“What do you mean?”
“I... once visited Tae-eul Gate and sparred with him.”
“You and Sowoon?”
All warriors halted, riveted.
“Yes.”
“Outcome?”
Namgung guards swallowed, tense.
“I lost.”
“Hm?”
“Heh?!”
More puzzled than awed exclamations.
“Details.”
“I promised three stars of qi. Full power unfair.”
Moyong Sangwon nodded.
“Fair. Though three stars overkill.”
“Mid-spar, broke promise.”
“Heh!”
“Mm!”
Shocked gasps erupted.
“Thus the loss.”
“No. Continued after. Lost bout but not spar. Felt I hadn't won the exchange.”
“So...”
“Pushed to eight stars... still lost.”
“You?! How!”
Moyong Sangwon goggled at us.
“Grabbed my sword-aura blade barehanded.”
“Eek!”
Gasps exploded among warriors.
“B-bare hand?”
“Stunned, halted; his sword at my throat.”
“Heh heh...”
Gratitude gazes turned to 'madman' stares instantly.
Moyong Sangwon sighed deeply, shaking head.
“The aftermath's the real kicker.”
“Hm?”
“Asked later: fingers at risk, why go so far for spar?”
Namgung San eyed me reminiscently.
“Sect juniors watching. Beating Namgung warrior inspires hope in sect arts.”
Grinning mischievously.
“Calculated I'd freeze in shock.”
“What! Hahaha!”
Moyong Sangwon roared delightedly.
“You ate a massive L from our Sowoon!”
“Yes, head-spinning blow.”
“Hahaha!”
Sheepish, I averted eyes—but warriors stared with intense, loaded gazes.
“...”
Turning, Namgung Seonhwa ogled me like a rabbit eyeing swaying carrot.
Their fervent stares overwhelmed; I couldn't even sip water.
If I attend another gratitude banquet, I'm no man!