A Man of Narrow Heart
KRAAAAANG!
The world spun before Yu Jeok's eyes. Sparks erupted in a blinding storm, flooding his vision whole. The wrist locked around his saber screamed as if it would tear clean off.
Every joint in his body shrieked like it was about to snap. Yu Jeok sucked in a ragged, empty breath.
Shock drained the color from his face.
He was never just some guest retainer!
The Great Sage, Equal to Heaven — Sun Wukong.
In the martial world of Hubei, both the title and the name had already spread with certainty.
The righteous factions of Murim had been relatively quiet of late. More than a decade had passed since the Great War ended, and every sect had spent those years licking its own wounds. With a colossal enemy like the Sama Order gone, there was no force left that could truly threaten the orthodox martial world.
Petty squabbles, rivalries, and clashes between lesser sects still flared up, of course — but that was everyday Murim. Nothing new under the sun.
Then a Wudang Sect delegation that included a personal disciple was ambushed.
The Wudang Blood Massacre.
A vicious attack launched directly against the Wudang Sect — one of the two great pillars of the Nine Great Sects. Ripples spread across a lake that had been still for years. No — not ripples. This was a boulder crashing into still water.
Naturally, every eye turned toward the mysterious master who had resolved the incident.
But he was still just a guest retainer!
The first time Yu Jeok laid eyes on Sun Wukong, he knew instantly who he was.
Golden hair. Blue eyes. A Central Plains face overlaid with the exotic air of a man from the Western Regions.
That was why Yu Jeok had brought up the Namgung Clan at once. A kind little hint: our grudge is with the Namgung Clan alone — a guest retainer like you should stay out of it.
He'd been certain the man would back down. He was a guest retainer, after all. A man who ate a great clan's rice and plied his skills on their behalf had no business inserting himself into a blood feud. Once you tangled yourself in a web of grudges, it clung to you for life. That was common sense in Murim.
That's how it should have gone...!
KRAAAAANG!
Yu Jeok's feet were driven back a full six paces. He bit down hard against the pain of his wrist being torn apart. His lip split, and blood welled through the crack. The teeth clenched behind it shuddered in their sockets.
Whoom. Whoom. Whoom!
The steel staff, heavy with a dull and crushing weight, was already a weapon of pure destruction simply by existing.
KRANG! KRANG! KRANG!
The staff poured down in a rain of afterimages. Yu Jeok swallowed dryly and barely, barely knocked them aside one by one.
No — he couldn't even claim he'd knocked them aside.
"Kh—!"
His insides turned to pulp. Every time he blocked, a savage shock rattled through him as if every bone in his body had been knocked out of joint.
Damn it. Where the hell did a monster like this come from?
The gap in their strength was painfully, viscerally clear. He was barely, desperately batting each blow aside. Sun Wukong was at ease. He hadn't even moved his feet. He stayed within a few paces, swinging that steel staff as if it weighed nothing at all. Those light, almost casual motions ripped the very air apart. The overwhelming force was saturated with the principle of Hegemony.
My Black Crow Saber...!
The teeth of the famed blade he had carried his entire life were shearing off in showers of metal.
This is no ordinary steel staff, is it?
A band of dark, ink-black metal ringed both ends of the staff. Every time their weapons met, his saber shuddered as if it would shatter.
I can't face him alone!
He snapped his gaze aside — and despair settled over his face. The scene that met his eyes was no better.
Ak Bi-un and the second-generation Wudang disciples had all held to neutrality. Even so, the tide of the fight was unmistakably one-sided. Against Muhwa and Seowol's blades, eight of Hubei's most renowned martial artists couldn't even hold their ground.
So vengeance was always going to be a distant dream.
The remaining eight burned with the will for revenge, and still they were being clearly, thoroughly overpowered. Three had already taken grievous wounds and fallen out of the fight. Those still standing each carried at least one or two bleeding injuries. Muhwa and Seowol, by contrast, were unmarked. Completely at ease.
The Namgung sword never changes.
A desolate look crossed his face. And yet the martial artists did not stop. They hurled themselves forward like madmen. They could feel the gulf in martial skill with their entire bodies, and still they refused to flinch. They fought with savage intensity.
This was what it meant to be a person of Murim who carried a grudge. A hatred that charged even an opponent who was clearly, undeniably stronger. Like a mantis throwing itself against a chariot, they would not stop.
This is the grudges of Murim.
And yet — if that was true, then a man who wandered the jianghu could not possibly be ignorant of it.
"Why the hell are you inserting yourself into the Namgung Clan's blood feud? Don't you understand that once a grudge takes hold, it becomes a spider's web you can never untangle?"
He couldn't comprehend it. They weren't bound by blood. Why throw yourself into someone else's enmity? This wasn't merely stepping into a feud with the Thunderblade Wanderer. If word of today's events spread through the jianghu—
"Every grudge aimed at the Namgung Clan will turn on you as well! Why? Do you think we're the only ones who've chewed bitter roots and nursed hatred for the Namgung Clan? In this vast jianghu?!"
"Dunno."
Sun Wukong's answer was utterly indifferent.
CRACK!
The Black Crow Saber — the beloved weapon that had shared half his life — lost the last of its teeth. The tip shattered clean off. His fingertips trembled.
"So you'll throw yourself into the Namgung Clan's deep well of grudges over nothing more than being the Young Clan Head's master?"
"No."
Sun Wukong shook his head, firm and absolute. For an instant, Yu Jeok's eyes flashed.
"Then why? Is there another reason?"
"I've got business with you."
Yu Jeok's eyes went round. Muhwa and Seowol, who had just finished their own fight, turned their attention as well. Muhwa's eyes, in particular, lit up.
Is Teacher Sun from Hubei?
Did he have a history with the Thunderblade Wanderer, who operated mainly in this province?
Yu Jeok pressed him in earnest.
"Do you have a grudge against me?"
"Yep."
"...I see."
Yu Jeok let out a long breath. He sighed, and with a shaking hand gripped his half-broken saber.
"Repaying a grudge is the way of the jianghu. But let me ask you one thing. Why did you come to hold this grudge? And when?"
"Just now."
"Huh?"
A deflating sound leaked from Yu Jeok's mouth. He'd been gripping his saber with a face of grim resolve.
"Just now?"
"Yep."
"A moment ago..."
What had he even done? For an instant, Yu Jeok couldn't begin to guess. What on earth was this man talking about?
Sun Wukong's brow furrowed.
"You talked down to me."
"...What?"
"The second you saw me, you spoke to me like I was some underling."
"..."
Yu Jeok's words died in his throat.
"No, that— you're saying you hold a grudge over— uh..."
You talked down to me too, though.
Yu Jeok stammered. Sun Wukong nodded with a face of complete, deadly seriousness.
"Being rude to this Great Sage, Teacher Sun? Huh? I'm older than your great-great-great-grandfather's great-grandfather — older than whatever distant ancestor you've got buried in the dirt. And you have the nerve to act all high and mighty...?"
The steel staff came down with a whoom.
"Why did you tell a lie like that?"
"A lie? I never put a falsehood in my mouth—"
"That you threw yourself into the Namgung Clan's blood feud, then claimed you'd come to hold a grudge over nothing more than being spoken down to. That ridiculous lie."
Sun Wukong blinked.
"Anyone could see it was a lie. People pick fights, sure — but who in the world talks about grudges over a tone of voice? And against a Peak Realm expert like the Thunderblade Wanderer, no less."
Uh... that wasn't actually a lie, though.
Sun Wukong couldn't quite bring himself to say it. Muhwa smiled faintly and offered a martial salute, as if in thanks.
"You may have become Muyoung and Seowol's master, but I never imagined your heart would stand with the Namgung Clan like this as well. Thank you."
Sun Wukong scratched his chin.
The guy was just arrogant and it pissed me off a little.
He'd only been petty. Watching Muhwa thank him with such sincerity, Sun Wukong swallowed the truth.
Eh. Let them misunderstand if they want.
If they were going to place that kind of trust in him, he wasn't about to complain. And in truth, that hadn't been the only reason.
"Hey. Ak Bi-un."
"Yes, Teacher Sun."
Ak Bi-un answered the instant he was called. After watching Sun Wukong put down the Thunderblade Wanderer so cleanly, his manner had grown markedly more respectful.
"How did those people know our route well enough to find us?"
"Hubei is Wudang's domain. Pinpointing your location wasn't easy, but it was possible."
"What about anyone else?"
"The Beggars' Guild might manage it, perhaps. But it wouldn't be easy. Teacher Sun, you traveled by waterway, did you not?"
"That's right."
Sun Wukong nodded. After leaving the Chuhyeon Merchant Guild, they had traveled exclusively by water all the way to Danga Village. They hadn't even disembarked along the way. The only people they'd encountered were fellow passengers. Sun Wukong had gone into the cabin and slept the entire time, never once showing his face on deck. If anything, the fact that the Wudang Sect had managed to pinpoint his location at all spoke to their formidable reach.
"That's exactly the problem."
"Pardon?"
"Those people were waiting to cut us off. Like someone had told them we'd be coming this way."
"...!"
"And they didn't look like they had much faith in their own information network, either. More like they'd heard something from somebody and come out on the off chance it was true."
Ak Bi-un's eyes slowly grew still. He understood what Sun Wukong was saying.
"Are you saying the Wudang Sect... leaked your whereabouts?"
"Could be. Could not be. Maybe they just camped out on the road to Mt. Wudang and got lucky."
Sun Wukong answered as if it were nothing, but Ak Bi-un's expression hardened a fraction.
He's picked up on something.
Sun Wukong glanced at his face and went on.
"That's why I made a point of it. I needed to set an example so they wouldn't come charging out to settle old scores whenever they felt like it."
"Ah..."
"If our trail's been exposed, more of these types might show up."
Muhwa, who had been listening quietly, nodded. In Hubei Province, which bordered Anhui, those who nursed grudges against the Namgung Clan were hardly few. The Wudang Sect itself — Hubei's leading power — had an especially poor relationship with them.
Sun Wukong's prediction proved correct. On the road to Mt. Wudang, martial artists appeared two more times.
"Namgung Clan! Today we will have our vengean— ghk!"
"What a pain. Seriously."
Sun Wukong routed every last one of them and destroyed their dantians. Ak Bi-un clicked his tongue at the ruthlessness of it.
"To go that far..."
"If they were the type to give up on revenge just because I went easy on them, they wouldn't have come out here in the first place."
This would only breed new grudges. But what of it?
"That is the whole process by which destinies tangle and intertwine — and this, too, is fate."
If the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven — the one and only Sun Wukong — were too afraid of ill fate to step forward or press on, where would his dignity go? Sun Wukong was unflinching. If it was destiny, if it was fate, you simply accepted it and kept walking. He raced toward his goal without stopping. That was all.
"Mt. Wudang."
Thanks to Sun Wukong's efforts, they reached Mt. Wudang without being stopped even once.
"They said we might see the dawn from Mt. Wudang..."
"Hah... we actually made it."
The second-generation disciples gasped for breath as if they might collapse on the spot. Before them, Mt. Wudang stood unyielding, its magnificent ridges holding the dawn mist in their arms.
"There — people have come out!"
"It looks like a welcoming party!"
The second-generation disciples called out with glad faces. A group of men in Wudang Sect robes stood waiting ahead.
Sun Wukong tilted his head.
"How'd they know when we'd arrive, waiting like that?"
As if someone had sent word. Ak Bi-un, who had been studying the Wudang martial artists, suddenly furrowed his brow.
"Why them, of all people..."
Sun Wukong cocked his head.
"This is a welcoming party, right?"
Ak Bi-un couldn't readily answer. Sun Wukong let out a short laugh.
"Well, for a welcoming party, I really don't like the look in their eyes."