The Faceless White Mask (1)
On the evening of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering's first day, the inns were packed with people reliving the duels alongside the storytellers.
Every time a match ended, carrier pigeons rose from the Mt. Hua Sect. The moment the results arrived, storytellers were summoned to the inns and began spinning their tales.
What seized the crowd's attention most was the very first bout. Anyone who seized a participation token could enter the Gathering — that much was known — but this was the first time a token's owner had actually changed hands.
And the victor's identity was a complete mystery. People argued and speculated in heated clusters. In a corner room of one inn, figures in silk robes were deep in the same debate.
"You're certain it was the Iron Cloth Shirt? Don't tell me it's from the old country—"
"I told you not to jump to conclusions."
The man in red silk raised his voice slightly, and the man across from him cut him off.
"It's true the Iron Cloth Shirt originated in Mongol external arts, but you're reaching. Any decent protective technique can produce a similar effect."
"…The palm he thrust out actually shone with a golden radiance."
"So at the very least, he can concentrate his qi wherever he chooses. That is not the level of a rising junior."
"He may not be a junior at all. He could be concealing his identity and using the Bone Contraction Art to mold his build into something that resembles a sect's rising talent."
"Haa…"
At the red-robed man's words, the others sighed.
"It's a clever idea, truly… but the odds are slim. Martial artists never do anything that would tarnish their own honor."
"Is there a technique that produces golden qi?"
"None among the sects competing in the sword debates."
"A wandering swordsman, then? A wanderer who broke through the Namgung Clan's escort and stole a participation token… that possibility is low as well."
"Could he be the scion of a fallen sect?"
The woman in green silk asked. The man in blue silk shook his head.
"Then he would have no reason to hide his identity. To restore a sect, one would flaunt one's name, not bury it."
"Too many eyes are turning toward the Faceless White Mask. Golden qi that shines bright as day… he may well be a subordinate of the Mingao."
At the black-robed man's words, everyone tensed.
"No need to grow so anxious. Keep watching the duels and his identity will surface on its own."
"What do you mean by that? He is not at a junior's level. Ordinary martial arts will never strip that mask from his face."
"Learn to think twice before you speak. Who is the Faceless White Mask's next opponent?"
The eight Dragon-Phoenix contenders had been halved to four by the first day's matches. And Jinmyung's next opponent was—
"The First Sword of Mt. Hua, Taeshin. Ah…"
The Mt. Hua Sect already knew the identities of everyone who had passed through the Haegeomji.
"By now the Mt. Hua elders will be debating the Faceless White Mask's techniques and identity just as we are."
"They have ample information. By the next match, they may already have a countermeasure."
"There is no need for excessive measures regarding the Faceless White Mask. Be far more wary of the Left Envoy of Light."
The man in black silk left those words behind and vanished without a trace. The others clasped their fists and saw him off.
"It's the semifinals, yet no one seems to care about the next match."
"You mean the duel between the Beidou Fist Phoenix and the Tang Family's Sparrow Phoenix? Eight to two — the Fist Phoenix takes it."
"If it were a real fight instead of a formal duel, it would be the opposite. We'll see in three days, when the next round begins."
The man in blue silk brought the conversation to a close. The lights in the room went out, and all of them vanished from it.
Just as the silk-robed company had said, the Mt. Hua Sect was locked in fierce debate over their next opponent.
Taeshin, the First Sword of Mt. Hua, spent the day listening to every opinion offered. He neither agreed nor disagreed with any of them — and simply made his way to the training grounds.
"The first plum tree of Mt. Hua… that boy is a bud ready to bloom in full."
Namgung Ho sat on a rooftop, looking down at Taeshin. Yeon Hochun sat beside him.
"A plum tree in full bloom beneath a blue sky. That is the highest praise you know how to give."
"So many people came to him with their worries, and he listened to every one of them… then went to train so he could refine himself."
Namgung Ho muttered, lifting his wine jug.
"You'll say there's no fun in that, I suppose?"
"Whose disciple is he? Of course he would. Speaking of which — did you say anything to him?"
"I told him: Kill the Buddha, Kill the Patriarch."
Kill the Buddha, Kill the Patriarch. A Buddhist maxim meaning do not be deceived by the illusions before your eyes — press forward in your cultivation. However…
"A Taoist telling someone to kill the Buddha? That's a bit much. He just beat Shaolin to get here, no less."
"…Can that child's sword even cut down a Buddha? He'll probably just sketch a few plum blossoms and leave it at that."
"Suyeong used to say it. Even a million flowers mean nothing if they have no fragrance — the bees and butterflies will never come."
"It's not a peony. Have you ever seen a plum blossom without scent?"
Yeon Hochun took the jug from Namgung Ho, drank, and tossed the remark off as if in passing. It caught Namgung Ho slightly off guard.
Word had long spread through the martial world that when the Mt. Hua Sect's Twenty-Four Forms Plum Blossom Sword Art reached true mastery, it carried the fragrance of plum blossoms.
Namgung Ho knew the rumor was true. But the scent only began to appear once a swordsman reached the realm of Sword Qi Coating.
During the battle of Yeonhwa Peak, Namgung Ho had smelled the plum fragrance scattered by his Mt. Hua comrades as they fell and scattered like blossoms at his side.
And Yeon Hochun had been the comrade who scattered the deepest plum fragrance of them all in that battle.
"The first plum tree planted since that day… you have every right to be proud of him."
Namgung Ho praised Taeshin's level. Yeon Hochun accepted the compliment with a quiet smile.
"So what's the next plan?"
"Quit nagging. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sneak back here without taking the mask off?"
"Doesn't a participation token mean the Mt. Hua Sect provides lodging?"
"My next opponent is the First Sword of Mt. Hua. You want me sitting in that lodging the whole time with a mask on my face?"
Jinmyung had returned to his original quarters and was giving Ak Jun a hard time. He told him to bring tea.
Ak Jun brewed it, set it out, and the two of them sat across the table from each other.
"Coming back in secret like that — have you learned stealth arts too?"
"Stealth arts… Heh. Sure, call it stealth arts if you want."
"What's with the snickering? You're embarrassing the people who were holding their breath watching that duel."
Jinmyung stopped mid-sip and shot Ak Jun a look.
"You hear one word about going home and suddenly you drop all manners?"
"If you had a technique like that, you could've gone for the plum blossoms yourself. From what I saw, your level looked higher than mine."
"Keep it up and I'll put down roots in Chang'an for good."
"Of course you should keep about thirty percent of your strength hidden for the duels. And when it comes to negotiations, my lord handles those better than I ever could."
Only then did Jinmyung drink his tea with a show of leisure.
"Anyway — what are you going to do about the First Sword of Mt. Hua?"
"What about him?"
"Unlike the Diancang Sect's Four Suns Sword Art, the Mt. Hua Plum Blossom Sword Art specializes in dazzling variations and chain attacks. You won't suppress him with a single burst of Protective Qi."
"I figured as much."
"You said the first stratagem was concealing your identity so they couldn't prepare a counter. The second was sending storytellers to gather intelligence on your opponents… know yourself and know your enemy, and you need not fear a hundred battles, you said. But—"
"Do you know which books fill the most shelves in the Murim Alliance archives in Chang'an?"
Jinmyung cut through Ak Jun's fretting and began.
"War records. And among them, the Battle of Plum Blossom Peak… because it was fought practically on Chang'an's doorstep… there are countless accounts. Personal memoirs from the participants, logistical records from the Zhuge Clan — more than you can count."
"So… what of it?"
"It means I've had far more chances to study Mt. Hua techniques than Diancang ones."
"You never actually saw them in person."
"That's why I spent half a month watching the duels. Enough with the fretting. I know my life is precious. I've only got the one — you think I don't know how expensive it is?"
The moment tension gathered in Jinmyung's brow, Ak Jun stopped needling him.
"Is anyone within?"
A presence and a voice arrived from outside the lodging.
"It's late. Who is it?"
Ak Jun answered with the air of a man ready to turn visitors away, even knowing full well it was the Hour of the Rooster. He glanced sidelong at Jinmyung — a look that asked whether they'd been found out.
"We come from the Namgung Clan. Young Master Namgung Hyeon requests Young Master Go's presence."
The two of them exchanged a look at the words from outside.
"Young Master Go has already retired for the night…"
Jinmyung threw himself onto his bed without making a sound.
"Ah. In that case, would you kindly convey Young Master Namgung Hyeon's message once he rises? He said he would call in person tomorrow morning."
"Ah… yes. Understood."
The moment the presence receded, Jinmyung raised a qi barrier.
"I'll do it."
"Your internal energy is lower than mine. Mine will last longer."
"What do we do now?"
"Young Master Namgung already knows who the Faceless White Mask is. Looks like he wants to renegotiate the numbers."
"Well — during three days of rest, someone could always snatch the participation token back."
"If that were the plan, he would have summoned us to the Namgung lodging."
"Then get some sleep early."
"Why? Already? Shouldn't we at least have a late-night snack?"
"Do you think martial artists rise at the Hour of the Snake the way you do, my lord? He'll train at dawn and then come calling. You need to sleep early."
"Ugh… fine. Put out the light."
And so the lights in the lodging went dark. Ak Jun lay on his bed and settled the restless churn in his chest. The end of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering was not far off.
Holding close the thought that he would soon return home, he let himself grow still.