The Bandit Scheme
I still remembered how, once before, Chun-baek and I had run thorough preliminary investigations and a whole repertoire of schemes to claim the Ten-Thousand-Year Fleeceflower Root from Black Water Gate. The Handsome Scheme we'd used to lure out Ma Yu-han, the young sect master of Black Water Gate, I still rated to this day as a perfectly timed, flawless plan. Though Chun-baek had balked at first, even he had come around in the end and acknowledged the greatness of the Handsome Scheme.
But as is so often the case, thorough preparation and meticulous operations are more often the resort of those who lack the power to overcome their own shortcomings. Which is to say — with the Tyrant Emperor at my side now, brute force might prove far more efficient than any half-baked scheme. Having lived Myeong-gae's life as well and returned to change the future, I, Dancheon Myeong, was surely the very incarnation of efficiency, a man who knew the worth of time.
"So what you're saying is, we just smash everything to pieces?"
"No, that's not what I mean..."
First things first, though: I needed to keep that hot-blooded Alliance Leader from botching the job.
There was little to be found on Yeomhwabang, however hard one searched. What intelligence could exist on a minor sect tucked away on the outskirts of Zhejiang? In truth, by the time information on Yeomhwabang had ever mattered, they had already perished in the explosion — there was never going to be much to collect. And even after my regression, I hadn't bothered scraping together more, because I already possessed every piece I needed.
First, that they were a minor sect of Zhejiang with no Harmony Realm master. Second, that the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure lay hidden in Yeomhwabang's depths. Third, that they were a faction colluded so deeply with the Heavenly Demon Cult as to employ the Heaven-Defying Art. Save for the first, none of that could be learned along the present timeline — so what more could I possibly need? A plan built on information a step ahead of everyone else could admit no flaw.
A dark night, with even the moon in hiding.
"You remember every detail of the operation?" I asked, my face hidden behind a mask bought at the market.
"Isn't that obvious." So answered the Tyrant Emperor, Yeom Gi-ha, his face likewise masked.
If the heart of the Black Water Gate operation had been the Handsome Scheme, then the heart of this one deserved the name Bandit Scheme. We were playing bandits who had broken into Yeomhwabang in the dead of night. The plan was perfect — but Gi-ha was so giddy that even a mask couldn't hide it, and I could not shake my unease. "Ahh, this is something I've wanted to try at least once before I die." Gi-ha's muttering from before we donned our masks refused to leave my ears.
"Let me explain it again."
"Aww, come on."
Gi-ha whined his protest, but explaining the operation twice was never excessive. "What did I say the heart of the operation was?"
"Smashing everything to pieces."
"No."
A sigh escaped me, but I surrendered nothing and explained once more. "Do not carelessly unleash power beyond that of a Transcendent Peak master. The fight must stay evenly matched."
That was the crux of this operation. We were bandits who had invaded Yeomhwabang, and the Yeomhwabang disciples would fight us tooth and nail to defend their sect. From their point of view, it had to look like this: we can beat these bandits... but it won't be easy. If we use our hidden strength we could win... but right now it's a bit much. That was precisely the impression we had to give them. Yeomhwabang, its demonic arts concealed, was nothing more than a minor sect — so their ceiling was the Transcendent Peak realm.
Such is the nature of realms. Each new realm brings a leap in growth, to be sure, but the gulf between Transcendent Peak and the Harmony Realm is the widest of all. To cause a god to blossom within a mortal body — that is what it means. It is why those of the Harmony Realm and beyond are judged truly superhuman. Reveal power beyond Transcendent Peak carelessly, and Yeomhwabang might abandon everything and flee. It wasn't that we lacked a fallback, but hunting down proof of their collusion with the demonic cult would become a tiresome chore, so caution was the right call.
"But tell me something."
"Speak."
"Just how weak is Transcendent Peak, anyway?"
"Hmm."
Even I, who prided myself on my sharpness, could not find an easy answer. In a great clan, a Transcendent Peak master would sit among the leadership; in the Nine Great Sects and the One Gang, such a man could claim an elder's seat. But by the Tyrant Emperor's measure, weak was weak — hence the question. Seen from a hawk's eye, as if reading a map from far above, a one-story pavilion and a three-story pavilion look all the same.
Having found a fitting answer, I gave it. "Do not use your Gang Qi. Not until your life is in danger."
Even without Gang Qi, no Yeomhwabang disciple could ever threaten the life of the Tyrant Emperor Yeom Gi-ha. A truly perfect answer, I thought.
"I see. Understood."
Gi-ha seemed to have grasped it perfectly — proof, I'd say, that I had pitched my explanation at exactly the right eye level.
"So can we storm the place now?"
"Let's go."
Gi-ha and I set off side by side. The heart of this operation was the Bandit Scheme, not a Burglar's Scheme — so like true gentlemen, we used no stealth movement arts and vaulted over no walls. Masks on, backs to the moon, we simply walked, slow and unabashed, toward Yeomhwabang's entrance.
"Who goes there!"
"Halt!"
Had they failed to suspect our suspicious appearance, that itself would have been dereliction of duty. The two Yeomhwabang warriors keeping the small-hours watch shouted, gripping their swords. Gi-ha's eyes met mine. Hearts reading hearts, we gave each other a light nod.
Swish. Our two figures moved in swift, perfectly matched tandem. Thud — a strangled grunt. Crunch — a choked cry. The two Yeomhwabang warriors collapsed, unconscious, without ever knowing what had hit them.
The man who'd taken Gi-ha's strike seemed hit a touch too hard, but that much fell within the expected range. Having knocked cold the sentries who might have opened the gate for us, it was only right that we open it and enter ourselves.
"May I have the honor of kicking things off?" asked Gi-ha, practically vibrating with excitement.
"By all means."
This much concession I could afford.
"Kahaha! This too is something I've always wanted to try!"
Whoosh — Gi-ha unleashed his footwork toward Yeomhwabang's main gate, and I had confirmed beyond doubt that no Gang Qi formed around his kick. BOOM! A colossal roar, and then... crackle, rumble — an entire wall of Yeomhwabang came crashing down. Thoom. Drifting dust swallowed the place where the rampart had stood.
"Hmm."
At the very least, I now felt certain that no Transcendent Peak master could ever display such martial feats.
"So much for that."
It seemed my explanation had been lacking after all.
If there was any mercy in this, it was that Yeomhwabang's warriors fell neatly into one of two categories: possessed of remarkable grit and spirit, or simply too dim-witted to know fear. The latter, I judged, was correct. They came swarming out in high spirits, evidently believing the collapsed wall was the work of some thunderbolt explosive rather than an intruder's footwork. It was the dead of night with even the moon asleep, but the racket had been so tremendous that warriors came flooding in at once.
"Who are you!" demanded the man who appeared to be the sect's master.
"Gentlemen," I answered.
"Madmen, the lot of you."
"Hmm."
The Yeomhwabang leader did seem clever. Why a man that sharp had tied himself to the demonic path was beyond knowing. As the old saying goes — a good guest does not come by night, and he who comes by night is no good guest. The clever leader had read at a glance that we, arriving in the dead of night, came with ill intent.
"Attack!"
At the leader's command, Yeomhwabang's warriors surged toward us. My own worry, however, lay elsewhere.
"Don't forget."
I had not forgotten to remind Gi-ha yet again.
"I know, I know."
With that, Gi-ha soared up and dropped into the very center of the Yeomhwabang disciples. Back at Black Water Gate, Chun-baek and I had stood back to back to break through the crisis; tonight was a different matter. For one, I had reached Transcendent Peak upon completing the third stage of the Yakseon Heart Decision, whereas now the fourth stage had carried me into the Harmony Realm. For another, the man at my side was not Chun-baek but the Tyrant Emperor, Yeom Gi-ha. It wasn't that I lacked the trust to put my back to the Tyrant Emperor — it was closer to say that with both our abilities so extraordinary, there was simply no need to lean on one another.
"Kahaha!"
He was demonstrably not using Gang Qi, yet the spectacle Gi-ha made of the Yeomhwabang disciples was that of a tiger loose among a pack of dogs. Each time he swung a fist, a disciple flew and slammed into a wall with a strangled cry; each time he lashed out with his footwork, a disciple crumpled to the ground, arm dangling loose, howling. And so I came to a realization: the fault lay with me, for demanding in the first place that the Tyrant Emperor feign weakness. That man was a monster who poured out Harmony-Realm power and beyond without ever needing to invoke Gang Qi.
Swish. Hoping to settle matters before Gi-ha botched them further, I spread the Cloud-Treading Steps beneath my feet. With every warrior's assault fixed on Gi-ha, my figure reached the Yeomhwabang leader without the slightest trouble. The plan — playing at an even match to coax their demonic arts into the open — had just failed, so a new road had to be found.
"Hand over the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure, and I'll spare your sect the calamity of annihilation," I said, imagining the vilest voice I could muster.
"……!" The Yeomhwabang leader's face froze in shock, and he asked, "You... who are you?"
"Who do you think?" So I replied, and favored him with a smile. The mask hid my expression, but my eyes and voice alone would be enough to steer his reasoning where I wanted. For at this point in time, only one place in all the world could know of the Ten-Thousand-Year Supreme Blood Treasure's existence.
The Yeomhwabang leader's teeth ground audibly as he rasped, "Those Heavenly Demon Cult dogs... a knife in our backs..."
My intent had been swallowed whole, exactly as designed. A steely resolve rose on the leader's face — the resolve of a man ready to die, I would call it.
"I hereby authorize the use of demonic arts!" the leader declared.
"Hm."
Measured against Black Water Gate, I would rate the response a disappointment. He had failed to verify the truth of my words more thoroughly. He had failed to gauge his opponent's strength. And he had revealed the fact that he had trained demonic arts far, far too easily.
"Leader of Yeomhwabang — you are not so clever after all."
"Shut your mouth, you cur!"
I hereby retracted my earlier assessment that the Yeomhwabang leader was a clever man. Then again, had he been truly clever to begin with, he would never have brought about that horror six years hence — a volcanic eruption.
Scarcely had the leader's order fallen than the disciples' eyes flooded red and their energy surged violently. I knew this as the hallmark of triggered dormant power: it could produce tremendous strength in a short burst, but the damage to one's vital essence was unavoidable — a trait of low-grade demonic arts. Compared to Black Water Gate's, it was an art of a far lower grade, I judged.
"Heh heh heh."
Moreover, a black, sinister aura rippled across the disciples' entire bodies — another unmistakable sign of demonic art.
"Prepare yourselves."
Confidence was written across the leader's face. Low-grade or not, power triggered from one's dormant reserves was not to be taken lightly — for vital essence, you see, far surpasses cultivated internal energy. Had the Black Water Gate disciples wielded such arts, Yi Chun-baek and I might never have seen the rising sun again.
But—
"Hoho. Now this is interesting."
They had, in effect, summoned the envoys of the netherworld with their own two hands. The instant the Yeomhwabang disciples manifested their demonic arts, the smile left Gi-ha's face, and he approached me, his air gone cold as a winter blade.
"So I'm to kill them all, then?"
"They'll die even if we leave them be."
Having triggered their dormant power, they were dead men already — though judging by those blazing, triumphant faces, they had no idea.
"Then it's better I send them off by my own hand."
I knew this for what it was: the Tyrant Emperor's own peculiar mercy.
"As you wish."
"Right."
The moment the word left his mouth—
A deep rumble rolled out, and a colossal force descended upon Yeomhwabang. The phrase Thousand-Hand Guanyin sprang to mind unbidden — because of the formless swords gathered around Gi-ha, so many that counting them was a hopeless task. No — I retract that. The host of formless swords he unfurled resembled a Fire Demon: a fierce, raging momentum and a will that nothing could quench.
In a heartbeat, the faces of the Yeomhwabang disciples — faces that had glowed with confidence born of demonic art — turned deathly pale.
"I'll send you off in peace."
Before his will set those formless swords in motion, I offered one request. "Leave the bodies behind."
It was the finest prayer for the dead that I could offer.