Breaking the Waves — Luoyang Sword House
In the street before the main gate of Wongak-jeong.
While everyone else was thoroughly intoxicated by the festive atmosphere, a few sat gathered in a corner of a street stall, their faces grave.
"…What did you say?"
None of them had so much as touched the wine or food laid out before them. Someone might have been expected to scold them for spoiling the mood—yet no one did.
"Sajil. Say it again."
Within the Luoyang Sword House, the wisest course was simply not to draw the attention of any armed martial artists. And if those martial artists happened to wear the uniforms of the great Kongtong Sect, that caution only deepened.
"…That is, well. The Great Master said…"
The shaven-headed martial artist called Sajil, still too rushed from his run to wipe the sweat from his face, once more explained the situation inside.
"In other words…"
Having heard the full account a second time, the woman—Kongtong’s Senior Disciple—quietly confirmed each point in turn.
"The slippery Sect Leader of Diancang has already gone over to the Eldest Young Master’s side."
"Yes."
"And Zhongnan, even if late, climbed onto that same bandwagon and received a promise of enormous compensation from the Eldest Young Master…?"
"Yes."
"Yet our Great Master has still made no decision at all…?"
At the Martial Aunt’s even lower voice, the Second-Generation Disciple who had brought the news from within began to stammer.
"Th-that is… At that very moment, word of Huashan and Wudang suddenly arrived, and—"
"All the more reason he should have seized the Eldest Young Master’s hand!"
One of the First-Generation Disciples flared up.
"Our Kongtong’s share in the New Murim Alliance is already small enough. And now Huashan and Wudang are pushing in as well!"
The others listened closely; this First-Generation Disciple had always been sharp with numbers.
"What’s more, the Eldest Young Master has even opened the right for Diancang and Zhongnan to participate in a new large-scale venture in Luoyang!"
"Y-yes, yes."
When the Second-Generation Disciple nodded as though he himself were being scolded, the First-Generation Disciple grew even more furious.
"What does Kongtong need most right now?! We abandoned Mount Kongtong in Gansu Province and left it behind—we need a new foothold!"
The Luoyang Sword House made an excellent roof if one’s only purpose was shelter from wind and rain. But under that roof, powers that had sunk deep roots over many generations already stood firm.
"This was a tremendous opportunity for our Kongtong!"
The First-Generation Disciple pounded his own chest in frustration.
"And we let that opportunity slip right in front of our eyes?!"
He ground his teeth.
"The Great Master always acts so clever, yet when it truly matters—!"
"Watch your tongue."
"…But."
"He is still the Great Master of our Kongtong."
At the Senior Disciple’s heavy voice, the First-Generation Disciple fell silent. He had realized they were not alone—others beyond the Kongtong disciples were present.
Even through the haze of drink, people nearby were glancing back, curious about the commotion. He scowled.
"…Damn it."
With a curse he seized the wine before him and drained it in great gulps.
As surrounding eyes turned their way, the Senior Disciple switched to sound transmission and continued.
I refuse to believe the Great Master could not even manage a calculation of that level.
He is a man who has endured for a very long time even in that hellish Elder Council Hall of the Sword House.
She asked the Second-Generation Disciple:
What on earth happened after that?
Well…
The Second-Generation Disciple’s account resumed.
Damn it…
The Great Master of Kongtong tried to open his mouth and slip into the conversation.
"Heh heh. The Five Fiends are a backward region no one wishes to approach these days, but—"
Those who formed a circle around the Eldest Young Master gave him no opening whatsoever.
"Originally, those sites are the most golden parcels of land in all of Luoyang."
The Great Master of Kongtong was not mad enough to cut off Gong Ryang—who, in addition to his original renown, now held the post of Luoyang Governor—and force his way into the talk.
"To be granted the chance to build a new nest in such a place… How could one not call it the great fortune of the Zhongnan Sect?"
"It is exactly as Your Excellency says."
The Sect Leader of Zhongnan could not stop smiling.
"When one tries to do what is right and make the correct choice, it seems Heaven itself chooses to bless our Zhongnan."
"Of course. Of course."
"Ahem, ahem. About that—"
Sensing his moment, the Great Master of Kongtong even cleared his throat deliberately and tried to ease his way in—only for the loyalists of the Third Young Master to close ranks around him like a wall.
"Huashan and Wudang, Great Master."
"From now on, only glory will lie upon the Third Young Master’s path…!"
"No, I myself—"
"Come now!"
"You would do better to take your leave at once."
"Just a moment—let go of this sleeve…!"
While they scuffled, another voice cut in.
"My, how can you all converse so happily while leaving Diancang out?"
The former Sect Leader of Diancang slipped nimbly into the circle.
"Of course Diancang is welcome as well."
When the Eldest Young Master smiled with deliberate benevolence, the former Diancang Sect Leader rubbed his hands together.
"Oh my, ‘welcome’? Young Master, you are far too kind!"
"Your merit has not been small."
"This old man merely did what was proper!"
His lips fluttered; he was already winding himself up.
"Young Master, you need only remember one fact: that our Diancang offered its sword to you first—more firmly and more clearly than Zhongnan! Indeed! Exactly so!"
Perhaps, when the news of Huashan and Wudang’s arrival had come, the cold sweat he had shed and the black thoughts he had harbored had been noticed by the Eldest Young Master. That anxiety drove him on.
"Our Diancang does not ask for much! Merely allowing us to take part in the venture would be enough for this old man to prostrate himself here and now in gratitude! However…"
Even as he spoke, he subtly edged the Zhongnan Sect Leader aside and raised his voice.
"However! Just a little! Our Diancang, relying solely upon the Young Master’s great mercy and compassion, with every last one of us united in heart, longs to achieve even a fraction of Diancang’s long-cherished wish—!"
His tongue and lips danced more brilliantly than Diancang’s own Illusory Sword.
"If only you would grant our Diancang even a portion of the development zone…!"
He clenched his fists as though ready to drop to his knees and shout long life that very instant.
"Our Diancang will continue to overflow with infinite loyalty and devotion—!"
"Sect Leader."
The one who cut off that passionate appeal was the Zhongnan Sect Leader, who had been quietly pushed aside.
"There is an error in what you just said…"
"What?"
The Zhongnan Sect Leader pointed to the sword still held in the former Diancang Sect Leader’s hand.
"You have only spoken of it. You have not yet properly offered your sword to the Eldest Young Master."
"……?!"
The expression that said, Why is this sword still in my hand?
"Ah—no, this is—!"
The former Diancang Sect Leader glanced back and forth between the Eldest Young Master, who held Zhongnan’s sword, and his own empty hands, unable to hide his fluster.
"Now that you mention it."
The Eldest Young Master wore a mischievous smile.
"You made a great deal of noise about offering your sword…"
Gong Ryang, as if supporting him, let out a wheezing, toothless laugh.
"Yet the one who completed the ceremony first was Zhongnan, was it not?"
"Therefore, if we are to correct the Sect Leader’s words…"
A mild smile settled on the Zhongnan Sect Leader’s good-natured face.
"It was our Zhongnan’s sword that was offered first. Diancang comes after us."
"N-no, that—!"
With an expression of utter injustice toward the entire world, the former Diancang Sect Leader dropped to his knees before the Eldest Young Master.
"Young Master!"
He raised his sword in both hands and cried out.
"You know full well that deep in my heart I have always followed and thought only of you!"
"Of course, Sect Leader."
Yeon So-hyeon accepted the sword and laughed heartily.
"I received your sword in my heart long ago."
"Young Master—!"
The honored guests clapped and roared with laughter at the spectacle.
"Ha ha! The Sect Leader has given us a fine laugh today!"
"Bring more wine over here!"
All of them piled more fuel onto the festive mood that the former Diancang Sect Leader and the Eldest Young Master were so diligently stoking.
"I told you to let go of this!"
Of course, amid all that,
"Come now, Great Master! Did we not say it was time to return…?!"
"Coming here in the first place was a mistake…!"
the scuffle between the Great Master of Kongtong and the Third Young Master’s faction only grew louder.
"I said let go!"
A roar burst from the Great Master of Kongtong. He poured internal energy into a violent shake of his sleeve; the fabric tore free and hung in rags.
"Oh dear!"
In the gap as the Third Young Master’s loyalists tumbled over one another, he rushed toward the Eldest Young Master and shouted.
"Young Master!"
Once more, in the street before the main gate of Wongak-jeong.
Wait!
The First-Generation Disciple, who had been listening in silence, cried out via sound transmission.
From everything I’ve heard so far, there was more than enough time to offer a sword to the Eldest Young Master!
Flushed with drink, he pounded the outdoor table with a bang.
What happened?!
This time the Senior Disciple did not stop him. She felt the same way.
"Haa…"
The Second-Generation Disciple let out a long sigh and continued the tale.
Well…
"Young Master—!"
Just as the Great Master of Kongtong, white beard streaming, tried to break free of the crowd—
"Young Master."
His chief maid, Jeong-a, called to him first.
"Ah, yes. Of course."
As though her voice had jogged his memory, Yeon So-hyeon turned to the assembled guests, spreading his hands left and right.
"There are people I wish to introduce to all of you."
The moment he finished speaking, the maids opened the rear gate of the grand banquet hall. Every gaze swung in that direction.
A company of uncommon martial artists, swords at their sides, entered in silence.
Without a single word, without even glancing around at the lavish hall, they simply walked in single file—solemn, and even resolute in their steps.
"…"
"What—?!"
"…Those men?"
Among those who studied their faces carefully, a few who had always taken interest in martial artists recognized them and cried out in shock.
"…The Hengshan Sect!"
"The survivors of the Hengshan Northern Stream?!"
The crowd erupted into astonished murmurs.
"The Hengshan Northern Stream…?!"
"Weren’t they nearly wiped out during the disturbance at the Yongbong-jihoe stadium construction site?!"
"I heard the survivors were isolated under both mental strain and accusations of responsibility!"
Yeon So-hyeon waited just long enough for the shock to ripple fully through them, then clapped his hands once to reclaim every eye.
"Many conjectures have swirled about them—and no small number of baseless ones as well."
He stepped to their side, smoothly shifting the focused attention onto them as he continued.
"Today, here, I intend to make a few facts perfectly clear."
As Yeon So-hyeon drew near, the martial artists of the Hengshan Northern Stream silently bowed their heads in respect and deference.
"It is true that they were once entangled in an unsavory affair. Yet every man standing here has deeply repented of those past sins and errors."
"In the past we harmed innocent commoners and stood at the forefront of their oppression."
The one among them whose internal energy was deepest stepped forward and spoke.
"We are atoners."
At that heavy confession of repentance, a dense silence settled over the gathering.
The Hengshan martial artist pointed respectfully toward the Eldest Young Master.
"And the Eldest Young Master here is the one who showed us how we may walk the path of atonement for the people from this day forward. He is our guide."
Around the raised wrist of his arm was wound a prayer bead of the Seonnyeo Cult. And not only he—every last martial artist of the Hengshan Northern Stream carefully carried some emblem of Seonnyeo faith.
"The swords of we atoners of the Hengshan Northern Stream have been offered to the Eldest Young Master."
The Eldest Young Master turned to the assembly and declared:
"The white-robed swords of Hengshan will henceforth walk with me."
It was the moment—unforeseen by anyone—when yet another branch of Hengshan among the Nine Great Sects joined the Eldest Young Master’s side.