A Fine Day
"Hey, So Jiyong."
"It's So Jihyeok."
"Right, So Jihyeong."
"I said So Jihyeok."
"Anyway, So Jihyeong."
So Jihyeok's eyelid twitched. Sun Wukong drawled on in that lazy, needling voice of his.
"Put the sword away before I lose my patience. I'll pretend I never saw you draw it. And while you're at it — whatever you've got tucked in those robes, hand it over. Now."
Wukong had already fought Baekgwiwang at full strength. He had weathered a duel in which Namgung Jinbaek poured out everything he had. He had crossed hands with the kind of supreme masters who could be counted on one hand in the current Murim. How was So Jihyeok's aura supposed to look through eyes like those?
In his own way, Wukong was offering one last scrap of mercy. He had a reason, too.
I can feel Yoryeok.
There was no red karmic thread connecting him to So Jihyeok. Even gazing through his Fiery Golden Eyes, he could not tell whether this man had been a demon in a past life. But a faint trace of Yoryeok was leaking from inside those robes.
The essence of Yoryeok is one thing. It sweeps you up in your own instincts.
Demons were, as a rule, creatures of greed. That was why most of them — Zhu Bajie included — possessed such bottomless appetites. Because Yoryeok amplified instinct to its extreme, it was hardly uncommon for a demon drunk on that power to devour food without end.
Of course, gluttony alone did not exhaust what Yoryeok could do. A demon intoxicated by it would fight and steal and devour in an endless cycle. And what a demon who gained still greater Yoryeok through that process would do next was obvious — a chain with neither beginning nor end, a band that was at once its own front and its own back.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Which came first, the demon or the Yoryeok? Anyone could ask the question. No one could answer it.
And So Jihyeok, a human being, was behaving exactly like a demon.
That energy right now. That's Yoryeok.
A presence so faint that anyone but the Great Sage himself would never have noticed it. Yoryeok. The Yoryeok hidden in those robes was whipping So Jihyeok's emotions into a frenzy, goading the arrogance that had already been there into something far worse.
Unfortunately, the instant Wukong finished speaking, So Jihyeok's face twisted violently — and his blade flashed.
"You son of a bitch!"
"Stop!"
Seowol, startled, threw up her sheathed sword to intercept, but it was useless. So Jihyeok's blade, swung with full and deliberate intent, slashed past at an angle — a thrust aimed squarely at Sun Wukong's chest.
Wukong twisted sideways in a single easy motion and let it slide by.
So Jihyeok's eyes flew wide. Filling them was Wukong's enormous hand. Expecting that hand to close on his throat, he hauled up his inner energy in a rush.
Too late!
His head spun. He was, after all, the heir of the Unhyeon Sword Gate — raised like precious jade, stuffed full of every spiritual elixir money and status could buy. He was no slouch. Judging that it was already too late to retract the left hand that had gone out with the thrust, he struck with his right, meaning to slap Wukong's hand aside.
"Wha—?"
A startled gasp tore out of him. His eyes bulged. He had avoided the grab at his nape — but his right wrist had been caught instead. He yanked. Nothing happened. The hand did not move.
"What kind of joint lock is this...?!"
"Nah. I just grabbed you."
At that offhand tone, So Jihyeok's face flushed scarlet. No matter how hard he pulled, his wrist would not come free.
A joint lock was the common art of catching an opponent's strike to disrupt it and turn it back — simple, efficient, and essential. But among masters who had reached a certain realm, it was all but useless. Inner energy could shake it off in an instant.
And yet—!
Staring at his immobilized wrist, So Jihyeok felt his eyes tremble. This was the exquisite principle of a joint lock taken to its peak. Nothing short of an extraordinary method could hold a Peak Realm master's wrist like this.
Wukong, utterly unbothered, tightened his grip and applied pressure as if he meant to snap the bone. So Jihyeok did not simply sit there and take it. Realizing he could not pull free, he tried to recover his sword and cut the grip in a single stroke.
Crack!
"Ghk!"
Before he could, Wukong's other hand closed on the sword-bearing left wrist as well. Both wrists, caught. His arms crossed like children playing some foolish game, and the humiliation burned even hotter. So Jihyeok's face went crimson. To swing a sword at an unarmed man and have both hands seized — how mortifying was that?
He hurriedly glanced aside. Seowol was watching him steadily, and there was something like pity in her eyes. Sympathy, even. She did not look the least bit surprised, as if she had known this would happen all along.
So Jihyeok's heart kicked into a gallop. A deep hum filled the air as he poured the inner energy packed in his dantian without the slightest reservation, determined to wrench his hands free.
He couldn't. Even flooding every drop of power he had into the effort, he could not pull back so much as an inch. His face went deathly pale.
"You... external arts... this is... internal energy..."
His voice shook. The words came out in broken fragments. He had realized he was hopelessly outmatched even in inner power.
Crunch.
"Gahhk!"
Wukong applied force and snapped both wrists. They dangled, limp. So Jihyeok screamed and groaned, staring back and forth between Wukong and his own ruined hands as if he could not believe what he was seeing.
"Who... who are you..."
"Don't people usually check who they're dealing with before they start swinging a sword?"
"You bastard! Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?!"
"What, your mama never told you, son?"
So Jihyeok's mouth snapped shut. He had never in his life heard such a filthy, unfilial remark. He could not even find the words to retort.
Wukong ignored whatever reaction he might have had and glanced at Seowol.
"What's this kid been doing to you?"
"Just... being a nuisance."
"Kh..."
At Seowol's indifferent answer, So Jihyeok swallowed tears. Wukong clicked his tongue.
"Tsk. You got rejected, pal."
"Grr..."
"It's a shame, but what can you do? You're the one who drew a sword and came at me."
In that instant Wukong laid a hand on his dantian. So Jihyeok's face went white as he realized what was about to happen.
"D-don't destroy my dantian!"
"Don't?"
"Y-you mustn't!"
"Mustn't?"
"Please — you mustn't, Great Hero!"
Wukong snorted a laugh and ripped the man's robes open. The stitching burst. So Jihyeok's eyes flew wide.
"What is this?!"
"A talisman, huh?"
"W-what are you doing?!"
"Watch that tone."
"What... what are you doing, sir?!"
"Who gave this to you?"
So Jihyeok hesitated. Why? Was it the terror that his dantian might be shattered? Until a moment ago he had been full of intent to punish this man. Not anymore.
I must have been out of my mind.
Picking a fight inside Wudang's grounds was shocking enough — and he had pointed a sword at someone like this? It felt as if his scattered wits had finally come stumbling home.
Wukong glanced at Seowol.
"What should I do with him?"
Seowol tilted her head.
"You said he keeps bothering you. Want me to wrap this up clean?"
"Hmm."
Seowol shook her head.
"He did help me once, a long time ago. Don't kill him."
She looked at So Jihyeok with a faintly apologetic expression.
"This makes us even for that time you helped me. Don't bother me again."
"...Young lady."
Regret welled in So Jihyeok's eyes. For a moment he considered resisting Wukong further — but after what he had just suffered, he did not dare. Wukong grinned at him.
"Hey."
"...Yes."
"Let's not be a nuisance. Us. Yeah?"
"I... understand."
"And what did you talk about that made you come running to see Seowol?"
"Pardon?"
"You met Gwangso. Gwangso of the Wudang Ten Swords."
A faint terror surfaced on So Jihyeok's face. Having his movements pinpointed so precisely was another matter entirely. Wukong clicked his tongue.
"No need to answer. It's obvious. Who else would it be besides that filthy old man? Hmm. In that case..."
He smiled brightly at So Jihyeok, who was staring at him in disbelief.
"Why don't we have ourselves a nice, candid little chat? Just the two of us, So Jihyeong?"
It's So Jihyeok.
So Jihyeok did not bother correcting the name. The moment he saw those golden pupils rimmed in red, all he could do was nod in silence.
Getting the full story out of So Jihyeok was not difficult. The man himself had no idea he had been used — but to Wukong, it was crystal clear.
What a pathetic little scheme.
He grasped the intent in an instant.
Cause an incident at Wudang and try to pin some kind of responsibility on me?
But Muhwa's reaction that followed made him revise his assessment. It was a reasonably clever ploy after all.
"Don't tell me you've broken the rules again, Teacher Sun!"
Having somehow gotten word, Muhwa came running with a heavy sigh.
"Broken them again? What are you talking about. I just taught a little lesson to some kid who was pestering Seowol."
"Tearing the meridians in both his wrists is not 'teaching a little lesson'..."
Even Wukong had to look away from Muhwa's stricken face.
"Violence of any kind is forbidden within Wudang's grounds. Unless it's a sanctioned duel approved by the elders."
"That sounds an awful lot like one of those rules that only exist when it's convenient."
Wukong grumbled. Looking at Muhwa's genuinely grave expression, though, he began to understand the situation.
"They can't expel you over this immediately, Teacher Sun, but..."
"I have to get permission before I go anywhere?"
"Yes. Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been outright expulsion. Wudang's rules are severe. And you already have a prior incident, Teacher Sun..."
A man who had once desecrated Wudang's sacred grounds had broken the rules again. Rules were always applied more strictly to insiders than to outsiders — and the fact that Wukong was tacitly recognized as having inherited a lineage of the Wudang Sect was itself a problem.
"So they want to put a leash on my movements."
Only then did Wukong understand the logic of that pathetic scheme. Ridiculous as it was, it was more than enough to build a pretext.
"If you find it humiliating to ask permission every time you so much as move, the other implication is that you should just leave the Wudang Sect."
"Well, any martial artist worth his salt would take that as a humiliation."
What they wanted was for Wukong to walk out on his own two feet. And there was no chance he would meekly comply.
They've probably already figured I won't leave easily.
Wukong stroked his chin.
So it's a stalling tactic, then?
He could guess the purpose.
They're going to prop up some stand-in, pin the murder on him, and have him executed?
With Wukong's movements constrained, they intended to quickly install a fake culprit and close the case.
Wukong shot to his feet.
"Where are you going?"
"I think I've been overflowing with a little too much human kindness."
"What?"
Muhwa tilted her head, then bolted upright.
"You're not about to cause trouble, are you?"
"Not even a little."
Muhwa stared at him with open disbelief, but she did not try to stop him. However reckless his movements always seemed, there was always a meticulous scheme underneath.
Wukong had not bothered to memorize the geography of Wudang's grounds. And yet he moved as if he knew every path and every destination. The reason was simple. All he had to do was find the place where the strongest presences among countless auras were gathered.
The moment he started moving, several martial artists hurried after him. Someone leapt out to block his path and shouted.
"Teacher Sun! You are not currently permitted to move freely within Wudang—"
It was not even particularly swift qinggong, and yet he moved like a ghost. The martial artist could not stop him. His eyes flew wide. In the space of a blink, Wukong had already slipped past and was circling behind him.
He dismissed every martial artist who tried to bar his way with a consistent, total indifference. Eyes and frantic movement followed him from every direction. Once the direction of his footsteps became clear, the pursuit grew even more desperate. Wukong paid it no mind whatsoever. He ignored them all. Not a single person managed to so much as catch his sleeve.
"Wh-what in the world..."
The movement was bizarre beyond description. This was not mere speed. It was a strange, wind-like gait that no hand could grasp, and every mouth hung open.
"Halt!"
Then, for the first time, a group of martial artists actually blocked his path. Four of them. One face was familiar.
"Gwangso, was it?"
"Teacher Sun. You have violated Wudang's rules and ought to restrain yourself. What business brings you all the way here?"
Four martial artists of roughly Gwangso's caliber, Gwangso included. All of them belonged to the Wudang Ten Swords. Wukong cocked his head.
"Came to see someone."
"Please make an appointment separately."
"I'm a little pressed for time."
Gwangso and the Wudang Ten Swords exchanged uncomfortable looks. They could not simply turn him away. If he were an ordinary guest, or merely a rule-breaker, it would be one thing. But he was recognized as having inherited a lineage of the Wudang Sect. If one insisted on ranking, he could not be said to stand below the Wudang Ten Swords.
"The Wudang elders are currently in council to identify the culprit in this incident. You cannot enter—"
"Ah. Well in that case, I've got plenty to say myself."
Wukong grinned and flicked his hand — a gesture like shooing a fly. Gwangso's face hardened. Their hands were just about to settle on their sword hilts when Wukong spoke, softly.
A quiet resonance, carrying a vast and profound force. Gwangso's body locked rigid. It was not as if an acupoint had been sealed, and yet he could not move a muscle. A chill ran down his spine. He could not so much as twitch a finger. His hand froze exactly where it had been rising toward the hilt — as if time itself had stopped.
Gwangso rolled his eyes. The fellow disciples of the Wudang Ten Swords beside him were in exactly the same state. Shock bloomed across every face at once.
"I already broke the rules once. No reason I can't break the one about not harming Wudang's Taoists too, right?"
Not that he was sure such a rule even existed.
Wukong bound their movements with nothing but his presence, then opened the door without hesitation. He did not knock. They would already have felt his aura from inside. That was announcement enough.
Bang!
The door shuddered as if it might tear from its hinges. Every gaze inside snapped toward him.
Five elders seated along either side of the table. Three of the Three Pure Ones occupying the seats of honor at the center. A faint bewilderment crossed their faces.
Sun Wukong grinned.
A fine day to die.