Unexpected
The preliminaries of the Sichuan Martial Tournament, begun in the early morning, dragged on until night before they finally came to an end.
Of the martial artists who had come to be tested, one hundred and nine passed—a little more than one in ten.
In one of Sichuan's countless taverns, a soft, plump man popped a piece of braised Dongpo pork into his mouth and asked, "Still, this year's numbers aren't half bad, are they?"
The one who answered was a lean man, doing little more than sipping at his wine.
"Half bad, my foot. Last year and the year before, the preliminaries were the same old story. If anything, this is on the low side."
"...How many passed last year, again?"
"About the same number of passes. There were a few more applicants last year, though."
At that, the stout man's face soured. He let out a heavy sigh.
"Honestly... I don't understand why they apply so stubbornly when they aren't even First-Rate experts."
"Tell me about it. If they'd heard even a little, they'd know you have to be First-Rate just to pass."
The Sichuan Martial Tournament was held every year, and the minimum realm of those who cleared its preliminaries was the middle of the First-Rate. Shattering a white-iron pine plank required at least the ability to wield Qi, and breaking more than ten of them demanded powerful internal energy as well—hence the need for a mid-First-Rate cultivation.
The two men, who had served as examiners for this year's preliminaries, clinked their cups and tossed the wine back. The lean one drained his brimming cup in a single swallow and let the words spill out.
"Ugh... I'm so tired I could die."
"Same here. Last year three of us took turns, and I still don't know why it's two this time."
"What reason would there be? They're just trying to spend less money. And besides, they told us in advance, and we were the ones who volunteered."
"That much is true."
It was only a side job, but serving as a preliminary examiner paid rather well—enough, in a single day, to match what a week of back-breaking work would earn. For men who never had any money, it was a gig they couldn't bring themselves to refuse.
The stout man asked, "Anyway, that story is actually true, right?"
"I told you it is. Why would I lie?"
"But if it really is true, that's serious. This isn't some ordinary matter. The Sichuan Dang Clan is mixed up in it."
"Serious or not, what does it matter to us? What influence do small fry like us have on a great clan?"
All through that day, a quiet rumor had spread across Sichuan by way of various minstrels. It was a tale passed along mixed with every sort of noise and gossip, but the substance of it was short.
The Sichuan Dang Clan's missing eldest daughter had shown her face at the Sichuan Martial Tournament.
However one looked at it, the rumor had been leaked on purpose, and its aim was singular.
"All we have to do is not touch it. The Dang Clan sent the signal that they'll handle it themselves. You still don't get that?"
This was Yeon Ihwa's house, after the preliminaries had ended and they had returned. In the annex that had by now grown almost familiar, Hwa Baek held a notebook. Whatever was packed densely across its pages was not the language of the Central Plains. It was a language of a future that had not even been born yet.
"What are you reading so intently?"
When evening came, Dang Seryeong opened the door and stepped in to ask. Hwa Baek closed the notebook as he answered.
"Just a light novel."
"Oh—I like novels too. Is it any good? If you don't mind, I'd like to read it."
"I wouldn't recommend it. It isn't written in the language of the Central Plains. Even I only read it for the fun of puzzling it out."
"Hmm... then it wouldn't suit me."
Dang Seryeong liked novels, not books she couldn't even make out. She had read far too many of those as a child, and she was sick of them.
"Anyway, what brings you here?"
"Dinner. Also, I think a guest has arrived."
"A guest...?"
"Quite a beautiful woman, actually. From what I overheard her saying to the attendant, she seems to be looking for you. Why don't you go see her first?"
"...All right."
He had nothing else to do at the moment. He had been going back over the notes on the original story and committing them to memory, but he needed to eat dinner regardless. Hwa Baek rose and left the annex, heading for the front gate of the house.
As he drew near the gate, the attendant came into view, and before her stood the beautiful woman Dang Seryeong had mentioned, muttering away.
"Ah, come on, sister! I'm telling you, I only need one spar with that man. So can't you just let me meet him?"
"As I have said several times, that is impossible. I will pass your words along, so please come again in two days."
"Then I'll be able to meet him then?"
"...I will convey the message to my master, but whether she receives the young hero is for my master to decide."
Hwa Baek approached and called to the attendant. Hearing his voice, she immediately stepped aside. He took the place where she had stood and, for a moment, gazed steadily into Wi Garyeon's face.
"...What are you staring a hole through me for? Never seen a beauty before?"
Wi Garyeon bristled under his eyes. He paid that no mind, and only thought.
...I never thought I'd be seeing her like this.
An appearance dyed gold by the influence of her inner cultivation, all the way down to the eyelashes. The original story had described her as flaunting a mature woman's beauty outright, a sight to bewitch anyone who looked. Sure enough, the woman boasted a face and figure lovely enough that the description did not fall short.
Her name was Wi Garyeon. Daughter of the Heaven-Breaking Sword Emperor, whom Hwa Baek would have to kill. One of the heroines among the disciples of the Greatest Under Heaven. And last of all, senior martial sister to the protagonist, Baek Haseong.
Of the title "disciple of the Greatest Under Heaven," the martial artist meant by Greatest Under Heaven was none other than the Heaven-Breaking Sword Emperor. A man counted among the Five Venerables, called the strongest of the present generation, and—setting aside the Heavenly Demon—the undisputed greatest in the world, whom no one else could hope to match. Wi Garyeon was that martial artist's daughter and his direct disciple. At present, she was said to be new to the murim.
A little different from the original.
In the original, her first appearance had been as an already seasoned woman expert of the murim. She had been past thirty then. Now she was twenty-eight, a year older than Dang Seryeong.
As I expected, the point in the timeline was bound to be a little off.
It was not something he had failed to anticipate at all, so Hwa Baek could let it pass without a change of expression. What mattered more than that, just now, was using her to pin down the precise point of the present timeline. This was a world that possessed an original story, and grasping when the protagonist would begin to move was important beyond measure.
Fortunately, Wi Garyeon—new as she was to the murim—poured out the information he already half knew without the slightest hesitation. How very generous of her.
"Haa—! A wealthy house really does serve different wine! Can I have another cup?"
"Of course. As for the spar, let's see to it after you've filled your stomach."
"Now that's what I like to hear! Well, well—you understand a person without even being told!"
Wi Garyeon laughed, hehe, her face flushed red. Hwa Baek offered her a warm smile and poured her wine. Just now, he was wearing a mask upon his face: over the mask he had drilled into himself—the one that must always hold a grave and solemn air—he had set another, kept in place to win her favor.
He listened to the long, rambling talk of a Wi Garyeon who had grown a little drunk. Most of it was the tale of every hardship and experience she had met since coming out into the murim, and from it he could learn two things.
First: she had been out in the murim for six months. In the Central Plains, where one was not acknowledged as a true person of the murim without at least two years of experience, she was unmistakably a newcomer.
Then Baek Haseong has been under training for a little over half a year.
According to the original, Wi Garyeon had set out into the murim almost immediately after Baek Haseong became the Sword Emperor's disciple. By that reckoning, the time Baek Haseong had spent training under the Sword Emperor was six months as well. He would step into the murim only after some three years of building his strength beneath the Sword Emperor, which meant roughly two and a half years remained before the original story began in earnest.
The second thing he could tell was that her realm was the Transcendent Peak Realm—the realm in which one fully governed the Qi within the body and could at last give birth to Gang. It was a height that even the talented young heirs of great clans might or might not reach in the latter half of their thirties, and Wi Garyeon had achieved it just as her years among the younger generation were drawing to a close.
"All right! Shall we have a match now?"
Perhaps she had eaten her fill. Wi Garyeon downed a glass of water, settled her stomach, and shot to her feet with her sword in hand. Hwa Baek led her to the training yard without delay. He meant to grant the spar just as she had asked.
If one wondered why he was indulging her demand—because he had suddenly found himself face to face with a heroine of the original story, and if it was possible, it was better to secure her goodwill first. Better that than ruining her impression of him from the start and having to patch things up later.
When they stepped out onto the training yard, a fresh evening wind came to meet them. The wind was not the only thing waiting.
"You'll be starting right away, won't you?"
Dang Seryeong, round spectacles perched on her nose. She had agreed to serve as referee for today's spar.
"Of course!"
Wi Garyeon, standing at a distance from Hwa Baek, answered boldly and nodded. She circulated her internal energy and shook the drunkenness out of her body. Then, her mind cleared, she drew her sword. Hwa Baek drew his as well, following her lead—but he held it only in his left hand, not in both.
Seeing that, Dang Seryeong asked by sound transmission.
Hwa Baek, unable to send a transmission of his own, only nodded. Wi Garyeon caught something off in the air between them and briefly suspected the exchange they had shared, but she had to focus on the spar, so she let it pass.
And then—
"Begin!"
Dang Seryeong's cry, charged with internal energy, rang out, and the contest between a man of the blade and a woman of the sword struck its opening bell.