Nothing Left Now
"It's a First-Grade Token of the Heavenly Fragrance Sect."
"A First-Grade Token of the Heavenly Fragrance Sect?"
The Heavenly Fragrance Sect. It was a name that always popped up in Ojeong's crash courses on Murim common knowledge.
"That mysterious sect made up entirely of women?"
Mysterious Sects, just as the name implied, were factions about which almost nothing was known — belonging to neither the Orthodox nor Unorthodox paths, with only suspicious rumors circulating about them. They were surprisingly common throughout the martial world. But the Heavenly Fragrance Sect was in a class of its own.
Unlike the Emei Sect, which was composed of Buddhist nuns, this was not a religious order — and yet every last member was a woman. Even Emei had a handful of male disciples, which made the Heavenly Fragrance Sect all the more magnetic to the eyes of Jianghu. If that had been their only claim to fame, they would have been remembered as merely an oddity.
What burned the Heavenly Fragrance Sect into the minds of every martial artist was a single revelation. One of the Three Venerables — the Martial Venerable. It came to light that the place where the Martial Venerable had trained in his youth was none other than the Heavenly Fragrance Sect. This was no mere rumor. The Martial Venerable had testified to it himself.
"Even years after stepping into the Absolute Realm, he supposedly still doesn't dare imagine facing the Sect Leader of the Heavenly Fragrance Sect."
"That remark is quite famous. Thanks to it, some even claim the Heavenly Fragrance Sect Leader's skill surpasses the Three Venerables themselves."
Of course, the truth of it had never been verified. The Martial Venerable's word was all they had. The Heavenly Fragrance Sect Leader had never once shown herself in the martial world. Only two things were known about her: the Martial Venerable's testimony, and that she was a woman of staggering beauty. And it wasn't just the Sect Leader. Most of the sect's members were the same.
Whenever a female master appeared in Jianghu like a sudden divine star, digging into her background would occasionally reveal she had come from the Heavenly Fragrance Sect. Each time, the sect's name would ripple through the martial world once more.
"A First-Grade Token? What's that supposed to be?"
"My father passed it down to me. When he was young, he went out on a trading expedition and formed a connection with the Heavenly Fragrance Sect. They gave him this token."
"If there's a First-Grade, that means they come in ranks."
"There's a Second-Grade and a Third-Grade as well. A Second-Grade Token lets you speak with an elder of the Heavenly Fragrance Sect. A Third-Grade lets you converse with an ordinary disciple."
"Converse?"
Sun Wukong let out a hollow laugh.
"A First-Grade Token grants you the chance to share tea and hold a conversation with the Sect Leader herself — for the time it takes to drink a single cup."
Sun Wukong grinned as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd gone and made tokens just for a single conversation?
"It's how the Heavenly Fragrance Sect builds its prestige and reputation in the martial world."
Sun Wukong understood easily enough. A sect that never even operated in Jianghu, and yet its fame had reached even his ears. Tokens like this were just another tool for maintaining that prestige.
"And you're giving this to me?"
"I have no use for it. I'm a merchant, after all."
"So in a merchant's eyes, this looks pretty useful to me?"
"That's right. A conversation with a mysterious master said to rival the Three Venerables. And not just any master — a woman so beautiful they say she looks like a celestial fairy descended from the heavens."
"Unfortunately, that kind of thing doesn't particularly interest me."
Sun Wukong twirled a lock of his hair.
"The Heavenly Fragrance Sect, huh..."
Namgung Jinbaek had already risen to a level comparable to the Three Venerables, and now here was a sect that housed a master of similar caliber. A flicker of interest stirred in Sun Wukong.
"It's only a single cup of tea's worth of conversation, but for the right person, that cup of tea could be an extraordinary opportunity."
"Opportunity?"
"In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, you could win someone over to your side. You could forge a bond that lasts a hundred years. Anything is possible, isn't it? If you aligned your purpose with the Sect Leader and built a strong relationship with the Heavenly Fragrance Sect — if you made them part of your power — what in Jianghu would you possibly have to fear?"
Sun Wukong's eyes narrowed slightly. He looked at Chuja Hon with fresh appraisal.
I thought he was just a capable merchant.
His insight ran deeper than expected. It almost felt like the man had caught a glimpse of what Sun Wukong was thinking. Sun Wukong snorted a laugh, amused.
Well. Just forming a connection with someone like that, even for a single cup of tea, would be worth something.
Sun Wukong's gaze slowly settled, growing still.
Power. Influence.
If, as Baekgwiwang had said, the shadow organization was gathering masters to raise a rebellion against the Heavenly Realm... Sun Wukong had already thought of one way to dismantle that.
Just pull the people they'd try to recruit over to my side first.
If they couldn't gather enough power, they wouldn't dare show any intention of opposing the heavens. Sun Wukong carved the name of the Heavenly Fragrance Sect into his mind.
"I'll take it, then. Grateful."
Sun Wukong grinned and pocketed the First-Grade Token. Chuja Hon's face brightened slightly.
To Chuja Hon, this was a genuinely lavish investment. But it was also a perfectly rational transaction. To him, a cup of tea and a conversation with the Heavenly Fragrance Sect Leader held no great value.
It's not as if they're a sect that shows itself in Jianghu and flaunts its power.
No territory, no commercial interests, no businesses — a mysterious sect in the truest sense. Their worldly detachment called Kunlun to mind, and went even further than Shaolin. What did a beautiful fragrance like a fairy descended from heaven matter to him? For Chuja Hon, value was decided by one thing alone: whether it made money or not.
This man, on the other hand, is more than valuable enough to turn a profit.
Chuja Hon assessed him with cold clarity.
He's racing toward some definite purpose.
A man whose martial prowess was overwhelming even by rumor alone. Not once had Chuja Hon seen his voice grow quiet or his gaze waver. He had encountered people like this before, from time to time. A single goal. People who raced toward that goal without a flicker of hesitation, with a terrible, relentless drive.
Men like that inevitably drew others to them. Whether it was charisma or the halo of their reputation, he couldn't say. But where people gathered, money flowed. That was the law. Chuja Hon judged that investing in Sun Wukong was worth far more to him than sharing a cup of tea with some sect leader.
This man is a martial artist. There's a good chance that token will feel more valuable to him than the promissory notes I gave him.
Something of little worth to him, given to someone who would value it far more. Was that not the very essence of a good trade?
What Chuja In and Chuja Hyeok had spilled was the whereabouts of their contact with the Yusal Sect. The man wasn't far. Sun Wukong snatched up the contact in a single stroke. But the man, too, didn't talk right away.
Just as he had done before, Sun Wukong locked the door and casually pulled the man's soul out, then stuffed it back in, over and over. It was the sensation of having a dagger stir through your brain without ever touching your skull.
"I'll talk! I'll talk, I'll tell you everything!"
The contact didn't last even two rounds. Tears and snot streaming down his face, he spilled everything he knew. The time it took to pinpoint the Yusal Sect's stronghold: half a day. Muhwa could only click his tongue at Sun Wukong's relentless pace.
Tracking down an entire assassination guild this easily...
If it were this simple, no assassination guild would have survived the grudges piled against them all these years.
The manor that housed the Yusal Sect was large, but desolate. Buildings always showed neglect quickly, and this one wore it plainly. A gloomy, desolate atmosphere hung over everything. Not a single trace of human presence could be felt.
"So the ones the sect leader brought to Anhui last time really were all of them."
Sun Wukong tilted his head. Had they truly staked the entire sect on that expedition to Anhui?
"If they were willing to bet everything, their connection to that Baekgwiwang bastard isn't some casual thing."
"You think they're connected to the shadow organization that caused the Wudang Blood Tragedy?"
Sun Wukong nodded at Muhwa's question.
"It might not be a chain-of-command relationship where they just follow orders, but they clearly can't ignore what that Baekgwiwang bastard says."
So they'd staked the entire sect on it.
"Of course, that's not the only reason."
There was more to gain here. Muhwa tilted his head. Sun Wukong gave the main gate a light push and walked through as he spoke.
"Why do people hire assassins to kill for them?"
"Well, because they can't do the killing themselves."
"And because they don't want it coming to light."
That was when Sun Wukong suddenly slammed his heel into the ground with tremendous force.
BOOM!
The powerful stomp shook the earth to its foundations. The floor split wide, revealing a deep pit. Countless spears coated in poison jutted up from below — a trap. Muhwa swallowed a groan.
"A mechanical trap formation."
Sun Wukong paid it no mind and hopped lightly over the pit.
"The ledger I've got only has a handful of names in it. I picked it up over in Anhui, after all. But a stronghold like this? There'll be stacks of ledgers sitting around."
Muhwa's eyes went wide. He understood what Sun Wukong was after.
That was when the door to the left burst open and a flash of cold blue metal gleamed. Muhwa's blade moved like a ghost.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
Muhwa swatted aside half a dozen throwing knives in a single sweep, then frowned as he spoke to Sun Wukong.
"A shame someone desperately wants to hide can become an incredible weapon. Anyone who commissioned a murder would do anything to keep that fact buried. And all of it is written down in those ledgers."
"For the people who were marked for assassination, and for the families of those already dead — just telling them who their enemy is would be a tremendous kindness."
"...Teacher Sun. You intend to begin a proper journey through Jianghu."
"A journey through Jianghu, huh..."
Muhwa's eyes narrowed. Sun Wukong let the words trail off. Suddenly, a crimson aura surged from his left hand.
HUMMMM!
A filthy, dark toxic energy clung to the pavilion pillars. A lethal poison that would melt skin on contact — swept aside and scattered by the mere pressure of his aura.
"Not quite a journey through Jianghu."
No need for such a grandiose phrase.
If those bastards are gathering humans and dreaming their futile dream of opposing the Heavenly Realm...
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
He pushed through the door, batting aside a rain of hidden weapons with casual flicks of his hand, and thought:
Then I'll gather my own power, and I'll fight those damned demons.
Just as he already held the Namgung Clan like a blade in his hand.
One particular law of Murim had caught Sun Wukong's interest. The obsessive, almost pathological fixation on debts of gratitude and vengeance. Kindness must be repaid. Grudges must be repaid a dozen times over. It was as absolute a law as any that governed the martial world.
If Sun Wukong could just get his hands on the Yusal Sect's ledgers, he would have connections among the powerful of Hubei at the very least. The Namgung Clan in Anhui. In Hubei, countless influential figures — and through Geumgak, even the Wudang Sect.
BOOM!
Another mechanism packed with spears and blades blocked the path ahead. Sun Wukong swept his iron staff through it with brutal force. The mechanism shattered to pieces. He brushed aside the flying scraps of metal and grumbled.
"They've wallpapered the place. Wallpapered it."
Annoyance crept across Sun Wukong's face. The mechanical trap formations prepared against intruders were packed incredibly dense. It was a good thing it was Sun Wukong, Muhwa, and Namgung Seowol. Any other martial artist would have been impaled by spears or riddled with arrows long ago.
Sun Wukong sighed, stopped where he stood, and drew up his internal energy. Muhwa's eyes went round at the sudden, crushing wave of power.
An overwhelming aura surged forth, as if it would shatter everything in existence.
"You're going to smash this whole place?"
"Smashing everything is just easier."
"If you destroy it without disarming the mechanisms, the buildings won't survive either...! The ledgers could get buried!"
Despite Muhwa's protests, Sun Wukong drew a deep breath and swung his iron staff like a thunderbolt.
Weight gathered at the tip of the staff. A single swing tore the air apart with a scream. Within it lived the principle of Hegemony — the will to smash all things to pieces.
Muhwa and Seowol, watching, felt their eyes tremble.
This... it's similar to the Clan Lord's presence.
It was similar to the principles contained in the Namgung Clan's martial arts. Heaviness that carried immense weight, and a powerful Hegemony that seemed ready to shatter all things. The iron staff, imbued with both principles, exploded outward with savage force.
CRAAASH!
It was crushingly heavy, and yet so fast that thunder roared in its wake. It did not simply cut or slash. It battered. It smashed. Iron walls, impregnable fortresses, massive boulders — all of it cracked and crumbled. The swing of the iron staff was simple and clear. A single intent: destroy. One solitary thread of will expressed everything.
BOOM. BOOOOM!
Sun Wukong began smashing the buildings apart, one after another, as if he meant to erase this place from the earth entirely. Dust billowed up in thick clouds until nothing ahead was visible.
BOOM. CRASH!
The ground shook. The buildings lurched violently, as if they would collapse at any moment. It was like a storm. The buildings seemed to cling on desperately against the raging tempest.
Where Sun Wukong had swept through, there were not even ruins — only traces ground to powder. The iron staff smashed everything without discrimination: solid stone walls, thick ancient trees, all of it.
By the time the sounds of shattering, cracking, and collapsing had faded, the thick clouds of dust slowly began to settle. Through the thinning haze, Sun Wukong's bright white grin came into focus.
Sun Wukong laughed, thoroughly satisfied.