The Strongest One
A treasure map.
A map—or a painting—that pointed the way to hidden treasure. To those of the martial world, treasure meant one thing above all: a fated opportunity. And those opportunities came in two forms—peerless martial arts, and heavenly elixirs of rarest quality.
For all the grandiose rumors that swirled through Murim, history had precious few examples of anyone who actually became an absolute master by following a treasure map.
"You never know until you look," Namgung Muyoung said.
"Plenty of con men out there."
"Forgery is the easy part. And among the world's recluses and eccentrics, far too many have a vicious streak."
Muyoung smiled bitterly. Most treasure maps were fakes, or else elaborately forged. And even when a map was genuine, reaching its destination often proved worthless. After weathering every hardship and ordeal to arrive at the marked location, martial artists would find nothing waiting for them—as if the empty ground itself were laughing in their faces.
"Old Master Beyond Heaven made at least twenty treasure maps that anyone knows of," Muyoung went on. "And not a single one of them had treasure at the end. The martial artists who rushed after them died by the hundreds in bloodbaths, but that never stopped anyone."
"Twenty of them, all the same trick, and people still fall for it?"
Sun Wukong let out a hollow laugh.
Muyoung's expression grew complicated.
"That's just the kind of breed martial artists are."
"In that case, this one's going to be a real mess."
Wukong understood the martial world's hunger for treasure maps, and he saw straight through to the heart of the matter. This was no treasure map. This was a genuine, peerless secret manual of the Namgung Clan—not some forged chart whose prize you couldn't confirm until you found it, but the finished product itself.
He had seen through the black-clad men's scheme. And he intended to turn it against them.
"If they're going to start a fire, I'll make damn sure it burns. The ones standing around watching can get swallowed by the flames too."
The ones who didn't know to fear fire were always the ones who loved playing with it. People believed they could control it—until they looked away for a single moment and found themselves consumed, burning down to ash. That was fire.
Muyoung spoke with a note of concern.
"The problem is, if we do as you say, Teacher Sun, things will only get louder. It'll be even harder for us to find the Wudang Taoist."
"You're right. It will get harder."
Wukong nodded.
"But it's not exactly easy right now, is it?"
"Well..."
"These aren't pushovers we're dealing with."
Wukong grinned. Even with Myodu-eung's Yeongryeok weakened, completely concealing oneself was no simple feat. And yet they still couldn't find the black-clad men. Martial artists were flooding in from every direction, and Myodu-eung was growing confused as well.
"If martial artists of every stripe are swarming the place, those black-clad men will have a hard time finding the Wudang Taoist too. So if they're spreading wild rumors even in a situation like this, doesn't that mean they have a way to track him down regardless?"
Wukong's reasoning held. These were the ones who had orchestrated the Wudang Blood Tragedy. They weren't the type to spread rumors without thinking it through. The black-clad men had a tracking method—that much was certain.
Some kind of special tracking art, or whatever else they've got.
They were confident they could track the Wudang Taoist even if things grew louder. The chaos unfolding now existed for one purpose only: to scramble the attention of Wukong, the Wudang Sect, and the pursuit teams that the Wulin Alliance would send trailing after them.
"Then we make sure those bastards get swallowed by the fire too, until they don't know which way is up. Why should I let them stand around and watch the show?"
The black-clad men had lit the spark. Wukong intended to stoke that flame until it swallowed all of Anhui Province—until even they couldn't crawl out of it. Whatever method they possessed, he would render it useless.
"Once they're caught in the flames, they're on the same footing as us."
Wukong's smile deepened.
"Then it's certain."
We will. No—I will.
At that voice, so thick with certainty, Muyoung closed his mouth and simply looked at Wukong.
"You mean you'd rather find the Wudang Taoist first, instead of tracking the black-clad men?"
"That's right."
Muyoung understood easily enough.
"The black-clad men want the Wudang Taoist. If we find him first, they'll come looking for us on their own."
"That's the best option. Though the second-best isn't bad either."
"Second-best?"
"I don't mind if it just ends like this."
"...!"
Namgung Muyoung stared at Wukong with startled eyes.
"If they can't find him, and the Wudang Taoist makes a clean escape back to his sect, I've got nothing to be disappointed about."
"You mean..."
"If it looks like we can't find him, we make sure they can't find him either. I'll cling to them like a drowning ghost and drag them down with me."
Wukong grinned, thoroughly entertained—the face of a mischievous child preparing some wicked prank.
"The enemy did everything they could to find that Taoist. They attacked the Wudang Sect. They forged a treasure map. That tells you how important this is, doesn't it? Now picture them going home empty-handed. They'll be so furious they'll cry. We're making them lose the very thing they came for. That's a hell of a result all by itself."
"If they gain nothing at all..."
"They don't get what they wanted, and all they have to show for the Wudang Blood Tragedy is every righteous sect in the martial world watching them like hawks."
Wukong grinned and tossed the question back.
"If you were in that situation, what would you do?"
The sudden question made Namgung Muyoung hesitate. The answer didn't come immediately. He put himself in the black-clad men's position, thought it through, and finally spoke.
"I would withdraw first and wait for an opportunity."
"Will one come? All you've done is kick a hornet's nest of righteous sects, and you've got nothing to show for it."
"Life is unpredictable. Opportunity comes at unexpected moments, when you least expect it."
Wukong smiled wryly.
"I knew a guy who used to say something like that..."
A nice, idealistic thought.
"Someone with power can't do that so easily."
"..."
"A smart one can't either. These killers are already in a hurry."
Wukong had caught a peculiar scent in their movements. Even he, a complete outsider to the martial world, could see that the Wudang Blood Tragedy was a massive incident by any measure. These were people who had operated in the shadows until now. The fact that they had suddenly revealed themselves meant they were working against a clock.
"These are people who cut down Wudang martial artists in the middle of the street. And that wasn't enough—they didn't even try to hide it. They spread wild rumors on purpose. They took that risk."
Something had to be handled in a hurry.
"And now this whole operation is on the verge of falling apart. You think it's easy to just pull back and wait?"
Muyoung shook his head.
Wukong spoke as if the answer were written in plain sight.
"It's hard. Humans are creatures that live on greed."
Not just humans.
Demons are the same.
Wukong snorted a quiet laugh.
The corner of Muyoung's eye twitched. Namgung Cheonyeong, too, let out a quiet breath of admiration.
Every piece of that is something you could predict on your own. But the way he weaves it all together is remarkable.
Taken apart one by one, any reasonably sharp mind could estimate and discuss each point. But flow was a different matter. Gathering fragments of information and stringing them together like beads on a thread—that was a skill not just anyone possessed. It required the vision to see the forest, not merely the trees.
Sitting right here, Wukong had grasped the entire situation and seen straight through it.
Wukong had a habit of saying it like a joke.
He always used to quip that he could see thousands of miles without leaving his seat...
So this was what he meant.
Namgung Cheonyeong had originally been among those opposed to Wukong. An expert whose identity no one knew, whose origins were a mystery, whose sect—if he even had one—was impossible to trace. Cheonyeong had taken a hard line: a man like that could not be accepted into the clan.
When we dumped the Azure Chivalry Hall affair on him, I hoped he'd wash out.
In truth, it had been a humiliating assignment. They had palmed the work off on a benefactor—the man who had captured Sa Hyeol-cheol-gwi, a sworn enemy of the Namgung Clan—as if he were some wandering mercenary.
Instead, he handed us the spark that would greatly revive the Namgung Clan.
The transfer of the Azure Chivalry Hall's interests had unfolded as naturally as water flowing downhill. Justification and practical gain—they had seized both. Cheonyeong had wondered if a few coincidences had been mixed in, but everything had clicked into place like a precision mechanism disguised as chance.
When he realized that, two contradictory impulses had thrown his mind into chaos: a wariness that had grown even more severe, and a greedy conviction that this man had to be won over for certain. Now, Namgung Cheonyeong was leaning toward the latter.
He always looks like he's smiling, always playing around—like some careless wastrel.
The man sitting here now sent a slow chill crawling up Cheonyeong's spine.
They say you never know what's inside a person.
Namgung Cheonyeong swallowed dryly. At this point, he couldn't help wondering whether even that outward appearance was a fabrication.
Wukong tilted his head at the stares directed his way, then spoke.
"Anyway, that's the second-best option. But if we're doing this, the best option's better, right?"
"By best option, you mean we secure the Taoist ourselves first."
"Right. Before the black-clad men do."
"Hmm."
"Whether he's carrying something important or he is someone important—if we secure him and deliver him safely to the Wudang Sect, you think they'll dare treat the Namgung Clan carelessly after that?"
"...!"
Wukong was right. In terms of justification and moral obligation, it was only natural. If they not only resolved an incident of this magnitude but also safely rescued a surviving Taoist, the relationship of grace and obligation between two great sects would be firmly established. A sect that owed such a debt could hardly help but take a more conciliatory stance. That much was obvious.
Not that that's actually the point.
Wukong smiled inwardly.
If they're hunting this openly, something definitely smells off.
He looked down at the cat sleeping in his robes.
Master Janggyeong said Geumgak was at the Wudang Sect. And the Golden Cord too.
Geumgak and the Golden Cord. Wukong felt a powerful sense of inevitability.
I need to get a look at that Wudang Taoist myself first.
Wukong thought it through carefully.
This won't be easy. The black-clad men's tracking, the martial artists flooding in—it's going to be chaos.
The black-clad men's pursuit had been blocked for now. Tracking the Wudang Taoist wouldn't be simple either, not with martial artists pouring in and trampling every trail.
I need to make the black-clad men come to us on their own. And I need the Wudang Taoist to vanish from the world's attention.
Wukong laid out the board in his mind.
Time to use the Namgung Clan.
Wasn't that why he'd put in all that work? Of course, the Namgung Clan wouldn't feel used. Wukong had already laid the foundation stones one by one, making sure every piece looked like it was for their benefit.
"The less the black-clad men get out of this, the more desperate they'll become. The moment they see a gap, they'll claw their way into it."
"A gap..."
"We'll need bait."
Wukong said it as if it were nothing.
"When you leak the rumor, say that someone stole a peerless secret manual from the Wudang Taoist and ran."
A strange light kindled in Namgung Cheonyeong's eyes. Understanding Wukong's meaning, a flicker of admiration crossed his face.
"Bait they'll find irresistible. Not a hidden Wudang Taoist, but a lure that's out in the open and looks easy to swallow."
Wukong grinned. The people of the Namgung Clan had a relatively straightforward quality about them—he'd noticed that much. But the hall masters of each hall, and the clan head himself, were a different breed. They looked further ahead. They thought more deeply.
"We've stoked the fire pretty high. The black-clad men will be drowning in mixed information, confused as hell."
"Then they won't have any choice but to take an interest in the rumored bait, at least at first."
"As long as the Wudang Taoist keeps himself well hidden."
"They'll bite the lure right in front of them first."
"Exactly. While the bait pulls their eyes, we won't be fooled by something that cheap—so we can stay a step ahead. Which means you secure the Wudang Taoist first, as soon as you can."
Muyoung, who had been listening, tilted his head. The tone had shifted—as if Wukong were dividing up roles.
"When you say 'secure'..."
"Hall Master of Myeong-i-dang. You've got a reputation for tracking arts, don't you? You can handle it."
At Wukong's words, Namgung Cheonyeong's eyes went wide.
"Then who's going to be the bait?"
Wukong answered as if the question were obvious.
"The strongest one, of course. It's dangerous."
He slung the iron staff across his shoulder at a lazy angle.