A Path Seen in Defeat
Paperwork was tedious by its very nature — perhaps all the more so because, unlike the martial arts, it offered nothing to take pleasure in.
Yeom Gi-ha and Singija had a habit of filling that tedium with bickering back-and-forth.
"Aww, come on — you're too damn rigid, you know that?"
"If I were truly so inflexible, Alliance Leader, you would have left this world long ago."
That was how it went between them.
"Hmm... You're right."
He conceded quickly — so Yeom Gi-ha was, after all, a man who kept at least a minimal conscience.
Just then, a figure dropped from the ceiling of the office and prostrated itself.
"What is it?"
Yeom Gi-ha and Singija, who knew the figure for an agent of the Murim Alliance's Special Operations Unit, took it in stride. But the information the agent carried was not something to be taken in stride.
"A large-scale massacre has been detected on the northern steppes."
"Mm."
When an agent of the Special Operations Unit chose the words large-scale massacre, one could extrapolate the scale from that alone.
"Internal strife?"
The warriors of the northern steppes split into factions and fought civil wars at the drop of a hat, so Singija's guess had solid grounds.
"We have identified it as the work of the Demonic Cult."
"Mm."
But that guess was wrong — which meant that assuming the worst had become the correct call.
"The situation?"
"Demonic Cult forces that have pushed out of Xinjiang are crossing east, slaughtering the steppe warriors guarding their own territories. Our assessment: the Poxian Noh Clan."
The Special Operations Unit kept the northern steppes under constant watch. The reason was the Heavenly Demon Cult: through the northern steppes, the Cult's martial artists stationed on the Xinjiang frontier could reach the strategic heartlands of the Central Plains — Gansu, Shaanxi, Shanxi, Hebei — in a single dash. It was only natural, then, that its agents monitored the steppes at all times; Chief Strategist Singija would never leave so critical a flank to chance.
"Their destination?"
The mastermind's eyes took on a distinctive gleam. His mind would already be moving with more agility than a supreme master's forms.
"Our assessment: Jilin, or possibly Heilongjiang."
In other words, their eastward crossing had already pushed beyond the northern reaches of Hebei.
"Gi-ya."
"I know."
Singija knew what the Sovereign of Destruction feared — because he knew that Dancheon Myeong had recently set out for Jilin Province. The most important figure in murim these days, the man who held supreme authority over the Murim Alliance's Special Operations Unit, was Dancheon Myeong, was he not? Keeping constant track of his movements was only natural.
Both Singija and Yeom Gi-ha understood: what was unfolding now was no coincidence.
"I'll have to go myself."
Yeom Gi-ha spoke with grim resolve.
"...There is no other way."
This once, even Singija had no grounds to stand in his way. In Singija's judgment too, Dancheon Myeong's safety outweighed the approval of ten thousand pages of paperwork.
"You won't be needing additional manpower?"
Yeom Gi-ha's expression turned grave — unlike him.
"As fast as you can manage."
"Understood."
With those words — and with the low murmur of the Sovereign of Destruction — Yeom Gi-ha's figure vanished from the Murim Alliance.
"Someone was in Jilin, I think..."
A martial artist of the highest order must, by rights, be able to enter combat at full readiness anytime, anywhere. Perhaps because in the wind-and-dust jianghu of the Dosan Sword Forest, the crossroads that decide my lifespan arrive before one knows it. You cannot tell an enemy who has come for your head, 'I'm not in the best condition today — do come back at this hour tomorrow.' Knowing this well, I kept myself at full readiness at all times. I could not call it my peak, but it lacked nothing to be called my best.
"I ask for your guidance."
Which is to say: if I lost here and now, I would have no luck and no timing to blame.
"Heh heh heh."
Perhaps my conduct — the etiquette of a great house embodied to the fullest — pleased him, for Lee Ja-seong obliged me with a laugh.
"I can hardly point a sword at a friend of that disciple of mine. Fist and foot should serve for this bout, I'd say."
"Yes."
Since I had given the Dancheon Sword to my elder brother Dancheon Hak, I carried no weapon at my side — which suited me fine. He had said fist-and-foot arts, but in truth there was no difference in it, a fact I knew and Lee Ja-seong knew as well. For a martial artist who had passed the Harmony Realm and reached the Profound Realm — one capable of giving form to the Formless Sword — fist and foot were no different from the sword. Put another way: the sword, too, was no different from my own two hands and feet.
"That rascal Chun-baek would have a hard time refereeing this, so we had best limit the release of internal force as well."
"You mean only the release?"
"If internal force itself were banned, I could hardly prove the words I've spoken, could I?"
"Understood."
It would be right to set aside, for the moment, the fact that this man was my sworn brother Chun-baek's master. The one standing before my eyes was the Wind-Cloud Sword Demon — living legend of the jianghu, who had completed the Infinite Sparring Tour. Even unleashing everything I had might fall short, so I would cast aside all personal feeling and give my utmost.
"Please be careful. My fists and feet have no eyes."
"No matter. Mine have eyes of their own."
As I said, the Wind-Cloud Sword Demon was a martial artist of the age before Yeom Gi-ha. And considering the era in which he had been active, I knew his caliber must rival Mugeuk Jinin's. They say the most dangerous creatures in the jianghu are the old ones — I would move on that assumption.
"Here I come."
Of course, I ought to unfold my fists and feet while keeping at least the minimal line — this was no arena of life and death.
"Come at me as though you mean to kill me."
It seemed Lee Ja-seong's thinking ran contrary to mine.
Whoosh—
A supremely refined lightness art — yet to me, who had achieved Five Energies Converged at the Origin, it was no more than nimble footwork.
Crude as it was, I could even set my foot upon empty air by wielding intent alone — so what challenge could a technique that merely moved fast pose? In an instant, my figure stood before Lee Ja-seong.
Crack—! A blindingly swift fist brushed past Lee Ja-seong's face, short by a hair. I had limited the release of internal force, but the manipulation of internal qi in that fist had reached its extreme — it carried strength more than sufficient to crumble rock.
"Good."
Even as he evaded that fist, Lee Ja-seong did not so much as blink. His gaze tracked the very tail of my strike — I could tell he still had room to spare.
"Hup!"
Whoom— thap! Whoom— thap-thap! Thap! Tok!
Six strikes loosed in the space of an instant came back with crisp, lively sounds — the sound of Lee Ja-seong dodging what ought to be dodged and turning aside what ought to be blocked.
Mm.
Now I understood exactly where my sworn brother Chun-baek's spare, economical swordsmanship had its roots. Unlike me, moving with all my flourish, Lee Ja-seong was moving with true efficiency. I lacked nothing in stamina — but I could see that the situation as it stood was not good.
"Good."
"I'm coming again."
"Then I shall put in a little more effort myself."
I had no reply to spare for his words.
"Hup!"
Whish—! My fist was already hurtling toward him.
A flash.
Lee Ja-seong's eyes flared, and for an instant I had the illusion that time itself had stopped.
Tok.
"...!"
To be precise, it was my fist that had come to a dead stop. Lee Ja-seong's palm-center was pressed firm against my Jianliao point — the shoulder, in other words. Had it been not a palm but a fist — no, even a mere finger — I would have suffered a catastrophic loss. With its flow of power severed, my fist hung fluttering before Lee Ja-seong's brow.
"Tch!"
Reflexively, I swept his palm aside with my left hand and threw my arm into a wide retraction.
Whoom—
"Big."
Tok.
Thud.
"...!"
It had been a truly simple move. Lee Ja-seong had done nothing more than tap, with the tip of his toe, the hollow behind the knee of my left leg — the pivot of my entire attack. But the aftermath of that simple move was anything but simple: I lost my center of balance, and with it the flow of my true qi was mangled. Naturally, my retraction — which should have snapped back out on stored elastic force — was rendered useless. What use in the martial path is a strike that has lost its footing? No different from a prop upon a stage. And atop it all, I had sunk to one knee — as a martial artist of the highest order, my shame was not something I could hide.
"..."
As I said, my opponent was a living legend of the jianghu. A supreme master of the Absolute Realm who had completed the Infinite Sparring Tour — I had allowed that I might lose. I was not so arrogant as to overtrust myself.
"...I lost."
But I had never imagined I would lose like this. It had been an abbreviated bout with the release of internal qi restricted — I had not dreamed such a stark gulf lay between us.
"Hmm."
Lee Ja-seong lightly brushed back the hair at his temple. A crimson glow seeped from his fingertips.
"More than I expected."
It seemed the wake of my retraction had split his skin lightly as it passed.
"I ought to amend what I said. You are, indeed, a rough gem that shines."
Once again, Lee Ja-seong seemed to hold a different thought than I did. In truth, none of this should have been possible — the fact that a martial artist who had achieved Five Energies Converged at the Origin and attained the Profound Realm had been caught at the hollow of the knee and subdued. However much the release of internal qi had been curtailed, by any common standard the result made no sense — so much so that had some busybody peddled today's events to Myeong-gae as intelligence, he would have been clouted over the head with a begging bowl and told to quit spouting nonsense. But it had happened. It had happened to me — a truth beyond denial.
"Had this been a duel to the death, it would not have ended so."
As though he had read the thought straight from my mind, Lee Ja-seong spoke first. His words were true — battles between Profound Realm masters driving true qi to its utmost rarely end in a short, decisive exchange. But at the same time, his words were also false — for he and I had restricted the release of true qi on equal terms. In other words, unless the gap were bridged with released true qi, the distance between him and me stood this wide.
Without hesitation, I bowed my head. This, too, deserved to be called a rare fortune — because the one who had shown me my own weakness was no mortal enemy, but the master of my friend. More than that: beyond the sparing of my life, I could come away from this with learning.
"Are you certain about this?"
I understood why Lee Ja-seong asked twice. Martial artists, as a breed, carry a lonely, towering pride — to cleave a path through the boundless sea of the martial arts, one must first hold oneself whole. Lee Ja-seong's realm would be the Profound Realm, and I walked the Profound Realm as well; if we fought with everything unleashed, as he said, neither of us could swear who would be left standing at the end. Yet I had bowed my head and asked to be taught — and in the eyes that regarded me, approval stirred.
"To refuse a chance to learn when it stands before me would be a regret to carry to my grave."
But what did realm matter to the martial path? I had seen my own insufficiency, and I had seen Lee Ja-seong's greatness. What more does one need, to ask for teaching? That was all there was to it.
"You seem a far finer man than I was in my youth."
Lee Ja-seong nodded, well satisfied, and continued.
"There'll be little enough worth calling teaching — let this old man's nagging serve in its place for a while."
Lee Ja-seong's gaze turned toward his disciple, who had been watching the bout from a distance. This was Chun-baek, who knew my realm full well — yet not a flicker of astonishment crossed his face. If I had to guess, he had seen this outcome coming all along.
"Chun-baek."
"Yes, Master."
"Come and listen with us."
"Yes, understood."
As though this, too, were a familiar ritual, Chun-baek came over at once and settled into a seat.
"Hmm. Where ought I to begin..."
In this moment, the fact that I had lost so hollowly was not what mattered. I had seen a path along which I could grow stronger. That — that alone — was what mattered.