I'm Telling You I'm Not That Kind of Person!
A taut, peculiar heat hung over the borderlands between Anhui and Hubei.
All because of a single rumor.
"The Heavenly Blind Strange Buddha? A blind man, you say?"
"He keeps his eyes shut even when he fights. Looks every inch the blind man, I tell you."
"And a blind man fights that well?"
"Hah. Blind swordsmen — I've only ever heard of those in stories."
"Fine, so he's blind. But what's this about a Strange Buddha?"
"They say he doesn't kill a single one of them."
"Huh?"
The rumor spread like wildfire for a simple reason.
It was outrageous.
You could explain a hundred times over how vital sight is in a fight and still fall short. Blindness is a fatal weakness for any martial artist.
That alone, though, was not so unusual. History had produced a rare handful of famous masters who happened to be blind.
What made this one the talk of the martial world was something else entirely.
"Hah. Is he playing at being a Buddha?"
"He really leaves every last one of them alive?"
"Something about a principle of non-killing, I heard."
"Even Shaolin opens the precept against killing when some fool comes looking for a fight. That's how this Jianghu works, isn't it?"
"In a martial world bound by grudges and blood feuds, isn't this man just insane?"
The most shocking part was that he let them live.
Draw a blade on someone and you repay them in blood — that is the law of Jianghu. He could have dyed the ground red and no one would have condemned him for it.
"But if you listen to the survivors, they'd rather have died."
"They want to die? Living's still better. At least if you're alive you can take revenge, can't you?"
"They can't. That's the point. He shatters their dantian. What are they supposed to do after that?"
For a martial artist, a ruined dantian is as good as death. It strips them of their life and their worth as warriors in a single stroke.
"I'd rather be dead."
"A lifetime of grinding yourself down, gone in an instant. How is that any different from dying?"
"Doesn't sound much like a Buddha when you put it that way."
"That's why they call him the Strange Buddha, isn't it? The Strange Buddha."
"Still, if he only wrecked the dantian, you could count yourself lucky. You could farm, or learn a new trade, and claw your way through the rest of your life."
"What, their pride as martial artists won't even let them do that?"
"No. They couldn't even if they wanted to."
"Huh?"
"He crushes the bones in their shoulders and legs. They can't walk. They can't use their hands."
"……"
"And the girl he keeps with him — whether she's his little sister or a servant, nobody knows — her sword work is terrifying. If she gets you, your bones don't turn to powder, but your wrists get cut clean off."
"What a pair of monsters……"
It was a rumor soaked in blood, in the most literal sense. The stories were so gruesome that, at some point, word of new fights simply stopped coming in.
No matter how tempting a peerless secret manual might be, the number of people willing to challenge a sadist who would ruin their dantian and cripple their limbs was bound to shrink.
And then another rumor slammed through Jianghu like a thunderclap.
"They say the Butterfly Immortal has appeared."
"Hah. It's been a full sixty years since that man last walked the martial world. That freak's finished now."
"He's touched the extreme of the Peak Realm. You think you can compare him to any other Peak Realm fighter? The experience alone is on another level."
Everyone believed the Butterfly Immortal would crush the Heavenly Blind Strange Buddha. The reputation he had built as one of Jianghu's venerable masters was that immense.
But it was not long before the rumor that followed sent the Anhui–Hubei border into utter chaos.
"The Butterfly Immortal has been defeated by the Heavenly Blind Strange Buddha — and he's being dragged around like a prisoner!"
"Losing is one thing, but isn't this too humiliating? Kill him with honor, at least! What's this about hauling him along?"
"They say he's being tormented, reduced to looking like a beggar!"
"Just how vile is this Heavenly Blind Strange Buddha, to inflict that kind of humiliation on the Butterfly Immortal — a man nearly eighty years old……!"
The rumor raced onward until it reached Hefei, and the Namgung Clan Estate itself.
"Is everyone ready?"
"The retainers under Blue Sky Great Captain Namgung Do have completed their preparations."
"Then we depart right after the meal."
Namgung Jinbaek looked over his martial artists with a gaze full of trust.
The finest of the fine — stripped of every other duty, devoted solely to honing their martial arts.
The Blue Sky Squad.
The Namgung Clan's foremost strike force. When remnants of the Sama Order were found, these were the envoys who hunted them to the ends of hell and delivered death as a gift.
The Blue Sky Squad had wandered the Central Plains cutting down one villain after another. Even now, their captain Namgung Do had returned from Gansu Province after slaughtering Sama Order remnants — and not four days had passed since then.
"The Myeong-i-dang Hall Master took a grave wound in just two exchanges and fled, I'm told. What do you make of that, Blue Sky Great Captain?"
Namgung Do answered in a firm voice.
"The Hall Master's skill is excellent in its own right. But his true strength does not lie in overwhelming martial power."
"So he was driven off because he was too weak?"
"Yes, that is correct. That said, within the Namgung Clan, the Myeong-i-dang Hall Master is one of the two wisest men we have, alongside the Disciplinary Hall Master. If he judged the situation serious enough to request the Clan Lord's presence, it means the opponent truly warrants it."
"I think so too."
A letter had arrived by Namgung Muyoung's hand.
It's been a while.
Interest kindled across Namgung Jinbaek's face. A powerful opponent he would have to meet at full strength — as a martial artist, he felt a hot, eager ambition surge up through his chest. His hips twitched as if he might spring from his seat that very instant.
Fortunately, every urgent matter had already been settled. Anything unimportant had been postponed. Even if he left his seat for ten days or so, no problems should arise.
He had worried that some assassin might take the chance to strike at the Namgung Clan — but the Blue Sky Squad's return had eased that particular fear.
Fifteen members in the Blue Sky Squad, all told. Including Namgung Do, only five would travel with Namgung Jinbaek.
The remaining ten, plus the council of elders who still brimmed with the vigor of their active years — even if the Sama Order came again, he was confident they could drive them back.
So long as the Lord of the Sama Order himself doesn't come back from the dead, that is.
That would never happen. The Sword God had killed him.
Namgung Jinbaek pushed the worry aside and turned the letter's contents over in his mind.
That boy Muyoung. He's handling himself well — just as a Young Clan Lord should.
The letter also laid out Sun Wukong's scheme and the movements that had followed from it.
Teacher Sun's thinking is always so brilliantly unexpected.
The composure to spin a plan even in a sudden crisis. The decisiveness to carry it out without a flicker of hesitation. The audacity to offer himself as bait, knowing full well the danger.
"Martial artists of tremendous skill are a dime a dozen in Jianghu."
The martial world is vast. Somewhere in some deep mountain, an absolute master might still be training in secret. A hidden recluse of terrifying power, unknown to the world, could burst onto the stage at any moment.
No — they certainly existed. Sun Wukong himself was a strange master who had appeared out of nowhere, was he not?
The Nine Sects and One Gang, the Five Great Clans, the Sama Order, the Heavenly Fragrance Gate, the Unorthodox Faction…… every martial organization of any size had its share of outstanding masters.
"But a man with a deep, cunning mind, the resolve to act on it, and an unshakable center — those are rare."
People like Sun Wukong were not common.
"And on top of that, he's well-disposed toward the Namgung Clan."
At this rate, they ought to start calling him Namgung Wukong instead of Sun Wukong.
Namgung Jinbaek snorted at his own idle thought.
That was when it happened.
A martial artist from Myeong-i-dang — the one tasked with tracking the rumors spreading through Anhui — came running in at a sprint.
"What is it?"
"Clan Lord. The Butterfly Immortal has been defeated."
"The Butterfly Immortal? Don't tell me……"
"It seems the subject of the rumors is Teacher Sun."
"Hah…… Well. A clash was always possible, I suppose."
Namgung Jinbaek let out a sigh. The Butterfly Immortal was a revered orthodox master. But there was nothing to be done about it now. Sun Wukong was deliberately concealing his identity and making a spectacle of himself. Collisions were a price they had to accept.
If anything, the fact that even the Butterfly Immortal had been driven back only deepened his faith in Sun Wukong's skill.
But the Myeong-i-dang martial artist continued, his expression distinctly uncomfortable.
"The thing is…… he didn't simply defeat him. He captured him outright, and he's been dragging him around and humiliating him."
"……Humiliating him?"
Namgung Jinbaek's pupils trembled.
"And Lady Seowol is at his side."
"……!"
Namgung Jinbaek clapped a hand to his forehead before he even realized he'd done it.
The Butterfly Immortal.
Once a secular disciple of the Wudang Sect, now a venerable master respected by all. In age, and certainly in generational standing, he was the equal of Wudang's current Sect Leader.
Namgung Jinbaek stared outside with a trembling gaze.
"That can't be right. Tell me it isn't, Teacher Sun?"
"Isn't that the man from the rumors?"
"Looks like it. Blind — and a sword-bearing girl at his side."
"Then that poor old man over there — don't tell me……"
"What a heaven-cursed bastard. Forcing the Butterfly Immortal to his knees — what does he think he's doing?"
The voices drifted to his ears.
"I said I'm not that kind of person!"
Sun Wukong bellowed. The gossipers startled and bolted. They had assumed he couldn't possibly hear them — the distance was considerable. What could they do? Sun Wukong's hearing was not on a human level.
Grumbling, Sun Wukong looked down at the Butterfly Immortal kneeling before him.
The beard that had once looked like an immortal's was half-torn and caked with filthy dust. His face was a mess. His robes were ripped in a dozen places.
Sun Wukong stared at him with a sour expression, then raised his voice.
"Hey. This is making it look like I'm really getting into the villain role, you know that?"
The Butterfly Immortal, still kneeling perfectly upright, lifted his gaze to Sun Wukong.
In contrast to his wretched appearance, a clear, luminous light flashed in his eyes.
"Who are you, sir?"
His voice was steeped in boundless respect.
Sun Wukong flared up at once.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Trying to make me look like the bad guy. Why the sudden groveling?"
"The Wuji you revealed. As one who cultivates the Dao, how could I fail to show respect?"
Sun Wukong shut his mouth. He scratched furiously at his head, then turned to Seowol, who was staring blankly at the whole scene.
"Seowol. You handle this."
She was young and pretty, after all. Wasn't that how old men worked? Even having a granddaughter-like girl listen to them nicely was enough to put them in a good mood.
Even Seowol couldn't bring herself to be careless with a man four times her age.
"Grandfather. Get up."
Just calling him grandfather was a show of respect in its own right, wasn't it?
It may have been even more effective. A faint smile touched the Butterfly Immortal's eyes. The feeling that word carried didn't seem half bad to him.
"Child. I must listen to what this gentleman has to say."
"What is there to say?"
Sun Wukong snapped, irritation thick in his voice.
"I already told you. You showed me Taiji — and in the end, I beheld Wuji."
"……"
"In my youth, the martial arts shown to me by Wudang's Sect Leader of two generations past were Taiji given living breath. But there was no Wuji. Anyone capable of revealing Wuji would already have set foot upon the stairway to immortality. Who are you, sir?"
Sun Wukong snorted.
"I already told you. I am Sun Wukong, the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven."
"……That's just an epithet, is it not?"
"An epithet?"
"It is hardly unusual for martial artists to take their epithets from the monsters and heroes of myth."
Only then did it dawn on Sun Wukong.
The reason people had been so unimpressed no matter how many times he announced himself as the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.
Ah. They just think I picked a nickname out of Journey to the West.
That was it. Sun Wukong felt thoroughly wronged.
"No. I really am the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven."
"……Hm. This old man has eaten as many years as he is going to eat, but he has not yet gone senile."
"Well, that's just rich. Fine. I'll introduce myself properly. Ahem, ahem."
"Introduce yourself?"
Sun Wukong suddenly rose to his feet and flung both arms wide.
For an instant — though they were unmistakably indoors — it felt as if sunlight had broken through and blazed. Light seemed to pour in from somewhere, as if a lamp had been hung from the ceiling, and the space around Sun Wukong brightened.
Of course, it was an illusion. And yet every gaze in the vicinity was drawn to him all the same. Sun Wukong smiled with deep satisfaction, as if he could feel those eyes upon him, and unspooled a long, rolling speech.
"……"
The Butterfly Immortal stared at the spectacle, unblinking.
An awkward silence settled over them.
Only after a long while did the Butterfly Immortal glance sideways at Namgung Seowol and ask, very carefully,
"Is he a madman?"
"Seems like it."
The performance had no effect whatsoever.
"So in other words, this is what the Namgung Clan is doing to hunt down the assassins and rescue the survivors."
There had been no choice but to tell him the truth.
Namgung Seowol had asked whether they really needed to hide it, and Sun Wukong had spoken without resistance.
That clear, luminous light in the old man's eyes.
So there are still people like this left among humans.
This was a man who would survive even if you threw him into an age of demons. No — he would go around saving the living and putting down monsters. That was how full of righteous will he was.
"I took you for the assassins themselves. The ones who slaughtered every last Wudang envoy and fled with the secret manuals……"
"Ugh. The rumors got twisted in the weirdest ways."
"That is simply the nature of becoming grist for the rumor mill."
Sun Wukong shook his head.
His eyes turned bleak for a moment.
That's too fast for it to be just that.
Namgung Cheonyeong was a man of excellent work. He still was. Even if a rumor went astray, Namgung Cheonyeong would have set it back on course in no time.
If a rumor is spreading that I was the assassin who hit the Wudang envoys…… it's those black-robed bastards.
They had slipped a different story into the mix and twisted it.
Sun Wukong let out a short laugh. His eyes curved into crescents for an instant.
There's a fairly clever one among them.
The kind who knocks on a stone bridge before crossing it. Someone had sensed that something was off. He had placed a general here — and they had answered with a checkmate over there.
They might be trying to grind down my stamina like this. Or they might be planning to sic the pursuit parties from the Wulin Alliance and the Wudang Sect on me the moment they arrive.
Even so, they had to be in disarray themselves. Namgung Cheonyeong and Muyoung were tracking the Wudang survivors at a measured pace, without any interference from the black-robed men. Which meant those black-robed men were definitely somewhere near Sun Wukong.
"You said the assassins are hunting the Wudang survivors."
The Butterfly Immortal's voice broke through his thoughts. Sun Wukong nodded.
"They may be hunting him because of who he is, specifically."
"Who he is?"
Sun Wukong met the Butterfly Immortal's eyes.
The Butterfly Immortal hesitated, then opened his mouth.