Crossing the Yangtze Without a Boat
The Yangtze.
So vast that calling it a sea would be no stretch at all, it stood as the great divide of the Central Plains' murim — the landmark splitting the land into Jiangnan and Jiangbei.
Splash, splash, splash, splash.
The far shore was nowhere in sight, and yet Yeom Gi-ha and I were crossing that river without so much as a boat.
Splash, splash, splash, splash.
All the while, the supreme art of body-lightening unfolded without pause — a rolling feast of Treading Duckweed, Crossing Water.
Hup!
Only after racing across the water for a very long time could I finally bound into the air and plant my feet on solid ground.
"Aw, phooey — wider than wide, this river."
Had we been anyone short of the caliber of Yeom Gi-ha and me, the attempt would never have been conceivable in the first place.
"Are we there yet?"
"We've a little farther to go."
"Aw, phooey. Farther than far."
The dignity of the Murim Alliance Leader was nowhere to be seen; in his place sat a stiff-necked old man brimming with complaints.
"Good grief."
"You're winded just from crossing this little thing?"
"…No."
I would say these were the days I finally came to understand Singija's heart.
Recounting the whole journey that had brought me here would stretch on forever, so to condense it:
"Farewell, then. Travel safely."
"Someday, please do come visit the Ice Palace."
"It is far too distant, and far too cold."
"Then I will come to you. Someday, I will."
"May fortune walk with you."
"Thank you."
The tender parting with Bukgung Seol-ah, who had steeled her resolve, and the warriors of the Ice Palace lasted only a moment.
"We're going."
"Where to?"
"To find the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure, of course."
"Already?"
"What, do you have unfinished business?"
"…No."
"Or do you mean to start moving only once this old man is dead?"
"That's not it either."
"Then let's go."
And that was how I came to be hauled away by the scruff of the neck by the Sovereign of Destruction, Yeom Gi-ha.
With the plan to stop by the Dancheon Sword Clan after securing the Snow Ginseng now fallen through, the year of wandering Jianghu I had once mentioned in jest to my father, Dancheon Gang, might actually come true.
"Is this the right way?"
The question broke into my reverie — Yeom Gi-ha, asking.
"Is this your first time on this road?"
"Well, naturally?"
"Aren't you the Murim Alliance Leader?"
"And that's exactly why I've never been able to come, isn't it."
"Hm."
His point carried weight.
For this was, in truth, a road leading to a place where the Murim Alliance Leader could ill afford to set foot carelessly.
Our destination was Changsha, the provincial capital of Hunan, south of the Yangtze.
Which was, of course, none other than the seat of the Sado League's headquarters.
"This should be fun."
Yeom Gi-ha's face was practically glowing with excitement.
"Mm."
A worry that had never existed began to smolder quietly upward.
"Hey, Old Man Wiji — does he have the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure or not?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Only after I'd foolishly shot back a retort did it finally hit me—
"Ah."
—that my explanations along the way had been sorely incomplete.
"Where is the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure?"
"We must go to the Sado League first."
"I see."
Having told him only our destination and not the reason for it, his misunderstanding was, I had to admit, entirely understandable.
"About time I got to stretch my muscles."
Watching the Sovereign of Destruction flex arms far too thick to belong to any old man, I could tell he was thoroughly mistaken.
Still, that wasn't the point.
"Have you been thinking, this whole time, that the two of us are going to storm the Sado League?"
"What's wrong with that?"
"…Hm."
I genuinely wondered whether the man was insane, but retracing the tracks the Sovereign of Destruction had left across the murim, I honestly couldn't tell joke from earnest declaration.
"Whatever happens, do not cause a scene. We are going to the Sado League to ask the Overlord Martial Emperor for his aid."
I had laid a debt of gratitude at the Overlord Martial Emperor's feet, and I meant to put it to use.
Something in that answer apparently displeased him, for the Sovereign narrowed his eyes into a sly squint and asked:
"You're not scheming to sell me off to Old Man Wiji, are you?"
And with that he snickered — so he plainly knew the notion held no water even by his own reckoning.
My misgivings, however, only multiplied.
"Do not cause a disturbance in the Sado League."
"Sure, sure."
"…"
Then again, I might have slept easier entrusting a fish to a cat.
Still, it seemed necessary to set the Sovereign of Destruction's thinking right.
This whole tangent had grown out of his question — whether the Overlord Martial Emperor possessed the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure.
Because I had noticed he was missing a crucial fact.
Long-winded explanations were never my habit, but with such a tedious journey on our hands, it wouldn't be the worst way to pass the time.
"Alliance Leader, do you know what the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure is?"
"An elixir."
Hearing that answer, my suspicion grew a notch stronger.
"Do you know anything more specific?"
"I know it stands first among all things of Ultimate Yang."
And watching Yeom Gi-ha swell with self-satisfaction at his own reply, I could confirm he knew absolutely nothing.
"What does the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure look like?"
"Hm?"
"Do you know what it originates from?"
"Ahem."
As expected, the Alliance Leader could not answer.
That is simply the way of elixirs.
Exceedingly precious, exceedingly rare.
The point worth noting is precisely that rarity.
Most martial artists of the murim, I would wager, live out their entire lives without once laying eyes on an elixir described as supreme or peerless.
I understand the desperate yearning that comes of never possessing one. But it is also a very funny thing.
How can you hope to claim something when you don't even know what it looks like?
Having schemed my way around the Yakseon Heart Decision, I had needed to obtain elixirs beyond counting.
And so I knew their appearances, their natures, their native habitats, their origins — all of it. I had investigated exhaustively and studied ferociously; that was why.
"I'll explain, so listen well."
In truth it was the sort of thing a man could live a whole life never knowing — but Alliance Leader Yeom Gi-ha's circumstances were different.
At the very least, shouldn't he know what his own lifeline looked like, and where it sprang from?
If he means to claim it, that is.
The Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure.
The word "Treasure" in that name meant precisely what it said.
As everyone knows, every elixir carries a value as rare and precious as any treasure.
Yet none of them ever takes the word upon itself. No one speaks of the Empty Blue Stone Milk Treasure, the Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng Treasure, or the Vermilion Fruit Treasure.
So why had this one been named as it was?
Right — a name, as they say, holds its essence. The Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure was, in its very substance, a treasure.
Like a diamond — one of those things we simply call treasure, without ornament.
In other words—
"The Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure is the essence of molten magma. Its color burns redder than a ruby, and its shape is that of a diamond."
"Hm?"
"Among magmas that have smoldered for ten thousand years and more, there are those that, through workings no one can name, harden into crystal. The very embodiment of Ultimate Yang — and that is what the murim of the rivers and lakes calls the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure."
For the record, the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure does not cool. How could condensed Ultimate Yang ever cool?
And that is why it can never be carried away.
Which raised the question—
What must one do, then, to take the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure?
"Which means, right now, we are on our way to soak ourselves in molten rock."
The Sovereign of Destruction — a man who had never once lacked for confidence — fell silent.
"Ooooh."
Beyond the Sovereign of Destruction's exclamation, the gates of the Sado League headquarters spread open before us.
If I had once described the Murim Alliance headquarters as magnificent, then grand and opulent seemed the proper words for the Sado League's citadel.
"Old Man Wiji's got nothing but greed packed in that skull of his."
Perhaps it was Wiji Han's personal avarice speaking, but Yeom Gi-ha's remark earned an involuntary nod from me.
We approached the entrance of the citadel.
"Halt."
A guard, his bearing severe, barred the way.
Measured against the guards of the Murim Alliance, who would receive visitors with courtesies like What business brings you, honored guest?, it was fair to call this fittingly unorthodox.
"Who goes there?"
So saying, the guard let his presence pour out. It had the look of an attempt at intimidation.
"Oh."
The Sado League truly lived up to its name.
A man who had looked like a mere gatekeeper was a master of the Transcendent Peak — which made his somewhat arrogant bearing understandable enough.
What he had failed to account for was that I was a master fully capable of letting his pressure drift past like a breeze.
"I bear the name of the Dancheon Clan."
I had always stood tall before my own name, so I saw no need to hide who I was.
"Dancheon Divine Dragon?"
Perhaps even a guard at the Sado League's main gate was well-versed in the affairs of Jianghu; he recognized me. Or perhaps, without my noticing, my renown had simply grown.
"So I am called."
The instant I answered, the guard's imperious, downward-pressing gaze seemed to settle a touch lower.
"What business brings you to the Sado League?"
The man's tone itself had changed, so it had been no mistake of mine.
In the treacherous murim of Jianghu, I had just been given a vivid taste of the power of a name.
"I have come to see the Sado League Leader."
At my answer, the guard's eyes sharpened once more.
I could guess why.
The Sado League Leader was hardly a man any stray dog or cow off the street could walk in and meet.
Fortunately, my renown seemed to exceed that of the average dog or cow, for he did not dismiss me outright.
"Have you an appointment?"
"It feels like yes, and also like no."
The Overlord Martial Emperor had told me in person to come whenever I pleased — asked whether that counted as an appointment, I honestly couldn't say.
"No appointment, then."
That was evidently how the guard took it.
"I will relay word up the chain. Will you wait?"
"How long would that take?"
The guard weighed it a moment before answering.
"For a name like Dancheon Divine Dragon — a month at the quickest, and half a year at the slowest."
Hm. That would be a problem.
Far longer than I'd expected.
For my own part, I could pass the wait in training if I wished — but my companion's circumstances were another matter entirely.
"Step aside, lad."
The one who starts the trouble ends it, as they say — Yeom Gi-ha shoved past me and stepped forward.
I had earnestly cautioned him not to cause an incident, but the present situation, I judged, was beyond anyone's power to prevent.
Yeom Gi-ha stepped out ahead, and then—
THOOM!
He brought his foot down with ferocious force.
The ground caved in, and a thunderous roar leapt skyward.
Straight-up thuggery in front of the Sado League's own gates — the man was a madman beyond all doubt. Feeling no obligation to share in his shame, I eased a little farther away from him.
Shing! Shing! Shing! Shing!
In the scant moment before the roar had even faded, hundreds of blade-tips had turned toward Yeom Gi-ha and me.
"So Old Man Wiji trained them properly, huh."
He had a point.
"Good grief."
With hundreds of blades seeking our lives, there I was, heaving a sigh.
Having weathered Yeom Gi-ha before, I had already read his mind.
That old codger wants attention. Right now, that's all he wants.
The problem was that stopping him was already far beyond too late.
"Why, you—!"
A rash Sado League warrior came charging at Yeom Gi-ha.
Whish.
Yeom Gi-ha slipped the blade with ease, and then—
Crack!
—sent the hothead's jaw flying.
"Gwark!"
CRASH.
The man tumbled to a stop a good distance away.
It looked light enough that a shake and a rise would settle it — clear evidence Yeom Gi-ha had held back — though that might be only my reading of it.
"Seize him!"
Hup!
Dozens of Sado League warriors charging Yeom Gi-ha all at once went far to prove the point.
In truth, it was a chain reaction.
One Sado League swordsman had gone down, and so the swordsmen of the Sado League could no longer retreat.
Only when dozens of warriors came swarming did a satisfied smile at last settle on Yeom Gi-ha's lips.
"Die!"
At someone's frenzied shout, Yeom Gi-ha's figure was swallowed whole by the warriors' blades.
But no blood-drenched tragedy unfolded.
"Not bad at all."
A membrane of gang-qi unfurled across the full sphere of Yeom Gi-ha's reach.
No sword pierced that veil — protective gang-qi ascended to the realm of the divine.
"Urk!"
Perhaps he had left his barrier wanting for nothing by weaving in even the subtleties of the Draw Formula — dozens of warriors stood groaning, clutching swords stuck fast to it, unable to pull free.
By now, there was no mistaking it.
Yeom Gi-ha was being exceedingly careful with his hands.
With a low hmph, Yeom Gi-ha pushed out his arms — and the groaning warriors sailed a good ten feet through the air before landing on the ground.
Not a single casualty among them. One might rightly call it a magnificent feat of arms.
"…And who might you be, honored sir?"
That same guard, a master of the Transcendent Peak, asked with careful courtesy — and only after drawing every eye in the place did a satisfied Yeom Gi-ha open his mouth.
"I am Yeom Gi-ha."
An introduction that left out even his epithet.
But a guard who had recognized even me could not possibly be ignorant of the name Yeom Gi-ha — and his face drained to porcelain white.
"The Murim Alliance Leader himself… what in the world brings you to a place like this—"
"I've come to meet the Sado League Leader."
I caught myself letting out a long, quiet breath.
For a split second, my stomach had clenched at the thought he might say the words Old Man Wiji.
In any case…
The great Murim Alliance Leader — who did at least know to pick his moment and his place — pronounced:
"How long will it take?"
His question was identical in substance to mine.
"…I will escort you in at once."
A wholly different conclusion from the same question — truly, one could only call it a miracle.
Yeom Gi-ha, chest out and swagger restored, turned his steps toward me.
"Did you see that?"
he asked, smiling with deep satisfaction.
"…Remarkable."
There was nothing else to say.
Such is the treacherous Jianghu. This, I would say, was the hour I truly understood it: a demonstration of strength, and a name that carries weight — those are the only roads to the truth.