Chapter 102
Chapter 102
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: People on the Cliff's Edge
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Pyo Chung immediately relayed the conversation they'd had across the cliff to the others. It was just confirmation of something that had been inevitable sooner or later, so there was no reason to keep it secret.
The people who heard the news were inwardly anxious, but there was nothing else they could do.
The decision had already been made, and they just had to carry out their assigned tasks.
Whether it was the faint anxiety spurring them on positively or not, the work progressed even faster than before.
Thick, long ropes shuttled back and forth between the cliffs several times.
The first three trips laid down the spots for the planks, and the ones that followed became handrails.
The next step was the most dangerous and crucial task: laying the planks.
"Take it slow. Even one plank a day is fine, so if it doesn't feel right, pull back without hesitation."
Relying on the uneasily swaying ropes, the workers lay flat and placed the planks.
Once a plank was set on the ropes, they tied knots at both ends and connected vertical handrails and supports, binding everything securely.
A single mistake meant instant death. But no one else could help with the task.
Watching them, Dang Mujin felt Dan Seolyeong's absence keenly.
*If only Seolyeong were here.*
Even with the same job, Dan Seolyeong always found more efficient and safer ways to do it.
But Dan Seolyeong wasn't there, and neither the villagers nor Dang Mujin could come up with anything better.
The most Dang Mujin could do was craft sturdy harnesses—loops strong enough to save anyone who fell from the planks—and tie them around people's bodies.
"The moment I slipped, I thought I was done for, dead meat. But my body just stopped dead in midair. Then I dangled there like a puppet, nothing but empty space below my feet..."
"You have no idea how scared the folks watching were. You're lucky to be alive."
"Without Physician Dang, who knows what would've happened. Whew."
It might've seemed minor, but those harnesses had saved all three people who'd plummeted from the planks, so their value wasn't small.
The work slowly neared completion. And the intruders everyone had feared most hadn't shown up yet.
On a day when hope began to creep in that they might finish without interference this time—
Namgung Myeong returned from hiding in Nakseong Village.
"They're coming. Get ready."
No one asked what was coming.
*
The Nogun Three Swordsmen, Dang Mujin, and Namgung Myeong left the cliff and headed to a prearranged pass.
Dang Mujin asked Namgung Myeong,
"How many do you think there are?"
"More than twenty, less than thirty. Can't tell for sure who's a villager and who's with the Taeui Sword Sect Leader, so it's hard to say exactly."
"Hmm."
At least four-to-one, at worst six-to-one disadvantage in numbers.
"I'll help too!"
A few quick-witted young villagers tagged along, insisting on fighting. They were the youths who hadn't been assigned to bridge-building.
But Dang Rang and the mountain dwellers flatly refused them.
"Even if you came, it wouldn't help much. These aren't foes you can nick with a lucky swing if you're untrained in martial arts."
"We'll pad the numbers at least!"
"This is Mount Nogun. Numbers don't matter here."
Mount Nogun had many spots where the peaks were linked by narrow ledges.
Even if a horde came charging, holding the ledge meant only a few could engage at once.
The Nogun Three Swordsmen had accepted Dang Mujin's proposal to confront the Taeui Sword Sect Leader partly because they'd seen that potential.
But the young men from the village wouldn't back down easily. With Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong—younger than them—heading off to fight, their pride wouldn't allow it.
"But still, we're better than nothing, right?"
"If you really want to help, watch the fight from afar. If it looks like we're losing, lead the people out. That's the biggest help you can give. That way, we can fight without worrying about what comes after. Or better yet, evacuate everyone now."
The Taeui Sword Sect Leader stood to gain by keeping the villagers alive, so he wouldn't slaughter those who didn't resist.
But the excited underlings? Who knew what they'd do. Evacuating in advance was the wise move for contingencies.
The youths reluctantly withdrew. Assigned a role, they seemed to shed a burden from their hearts.
*
The five took position at the pass leading to Nogun Village and waited for the Taeui Sword Sect Leader's group to approach.
Mount Nogun's weather was as capricious as ever; you could never predict how it'd shift in a single day.
The sky had been clear that morning, but now thick gray clouds blanketed it.
Yet you couldn't say for sure it'd rain. Darker clouds often passed harmlessly here, and dry lightning struck from blue skies on Mount Nogun.
"..."
Uncharacteristically tense, Namgung Myeong kept fidgeting with his hand at his right waist. He seemed uneasy without a sword in his grip.
Dang Mujin grinned.
"What, nervous?"
Namgung Myeong nodded lightly.
"Yeah. First time staking my life in a real fight against someone."
"...What?"
Thinking he'd misheard, Dang Mujin stared at Namgung Myeong. No hint of a joke.
"For real?"
"Never had to face a true life-or-death duel seriously. As a kid, I holed up in the clan practicing swordsmanship. My first foray into the jianghu ended sloppily. After that, I left home and became a hawker. Oh, obviously excluding the times I handled some amateur bandits."
"...You're unusual."
"What's unusual? How many life-or-death duels does anyone face in a lifetime?"
Fair point, that was probably normal.
Dang Mujin tallied his own brushes with death or duels.
Once with the Ja-yang Twin Killers in Zhuul Village. Once with the previous Iron Palm Stronghold Chief in Zhongjing.
Fought greenwood bandits over ore, clashed with the black-clad assassins. Killed Baek Chusu, took down plenty of Salmak killers.
*'Somehow I feel like a horrific murderer now.'*
He hadn't realized it before, but he'd killed more people than he'd thought.
Dang Mujin had little experience with sparring, actually. Just fooling around with wooden swords against Hong Geolgae back then, or exchanging forms with Namgung Myeong using sticks. Everything else had been real combat. Every time he drew steel, someone died. So far, it'd been his foes—but one day, it'd be him. Nothing strange about that.
The Nogun Three Swordsmen listened with interest. Especially piqued by the "clan" Namgung Myeong mentioned.
"You're from a sword clan, Young Hero Myeong? If it's called a clan, it must be no ordinary house."
"Which clan did we visit again? We stopped at a few, but it's been so long, I don't remember well."
"We saw the Zhuge Clan and Namgung Clan, I think."
Namgung Myeong flinched at his clan's mention. Luckily, the Nogun Three Swordsmen didn't notice.
"What do you mean 'saw'? We didn't even step inside the gates of either."
"Who said we went inside? Circling the grounds counts as visiting."
"Is that so? Anyway, which clan are you from, Young Hero Myeong?"
"...You wouldn't know it even if I told you."
"Aw, hiding it to be coy?"
As Namgung Myeong smiled awkwardly, the Nogun Three Swordsmen chuckled and asked,
"Since things have come to this, I'll ask: What's your level of skill, you two young heroes?"
They vaguely guessed Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong had reached first-rate, but knew no more.
Dang Mujin shrugged. It varied wildly depending on whether poisons counted.
"Hard for me to say exactly. I walk a quirky path, and even I don't know my precise attainment."
"And you, Young Hero Myeong?"
"I was acknowledged as a first-rate martial artist at seventeen."
"...Really?"
The Nogun Three Swordsmen's expressions turned subtle.
Even in giant sects or clans, entering first-rate by twenty earned praise for talent.
They were first-rate now, but when they left Wudang at twenty for their first jianghu outing, they'd been second-rate pushing for first.
That alone wasn't something to be sneered at for lagging behind Wudang standards.
But first-rate at seventeen? That crossed into genius territory beyond mere talent.
The Nogun Three Swordsmen suspected bragging, but didn't press.
"Mastering the orthodox arts to first-rate at seventeen... You'd have been at the forefront of the later generation."
"Not quite the forefront. There was one ahead of me in skill."
Meaning he was second among the midworld's later generation youths.
Arrogant words, yet his delivery made them sound oddly humble.
"...Is that so? Who was this standout?"
"Wudang's Dragon Sword Hyun Gong, a year older than me, broke through to the apex before twenty-two."
"Hmm."
Their expressions grew more nuanced.
Shamed by their misconduct, they hadn't returned to Wudang in decades. Yet they still identified as Wudang swordsmen.
Pride swelled hearing of a prodigy from their sect, but a twinge of envy stirred toward the genius who'd surpassed them at such a young age.
Fortunately, pride outweighed it, staving off self-loathing.
"By the way, with that skill, you were a hawker?"
"Yeah. Things just... happened that way."
"I'm dying to know how a hawker came to be..."
Unable to tell the truth, Namgung Myeong sweated bullets, spinning tales.
I'd always dreamed of being a hawker since childhood, honed my martial arts to be the best—pure nonsense. The Nogun Three Swordsmen played along with exaggerated reactions.
Foolish chatter on the eve of a desperate fight? But it served a purpose: casual banter melted away the body-crushing tension bit by bit.
Time passed. Namgung Myeong's stories veered into realms imagination couldn't salvage when—
A group appeared on the ledge, entering the party's view.
The five fell silent, scrutinizing them.
"Let me see... Twenty-three."
"Is the one in front the Taeui Sword Sect Leader?"
"Yeah. That bastard's aged quite a bit."
The Taeui Sword Sect Leader wore white robes, past sixty easily. Yet no senile lethargy or drowsiness marked his face.
Old, clearly—but "old man" didn't fit, thought Dang Mujin honestly. Must be the apex realm.
The apex held special meaning. A realm apart from first-rate and below.
Martial artists used varied terms: "reached first-rate," "attained second-rate," etc. But never "surmounted first-rate's wall."
"Surmounted the wall" was reserved for apex and beyond.
If obstacles lay between second- and first-rate, from apex onward, it was walls.
Impossibly high walls. Paths differed per person, and no guarantee of lifetime effort sufficed.
The apex was where late-bloomers who hit first-rate in old age suddenly arrived—and where child prodigies who'd reached first-rate at eighteen still languished at seventy.
No knowing if you pierced, bypassed, or scaled the wall. Or even if the realm beyond existed.
Its vast, unyielding nature birthed the "wall" metaphor for the apex path.
Grombel's words echoed similarly. He'd told Dang Mujin classifications like third-, second-, first-rate were trivial—don't obsess over minutiae.
Even a third-rater could fell a first-rater with a knife to the throat. Grombel's favorite line.
But the apex? Even the worldly Grombel, shrugging at all things with "could happen," never claimed a first-rater could beat an apex master.
At first, Dang Mujin figured Grombel puffed himself up as apex.
But the Shaolin warrior-monks he'd met said much the same: the apex path was different, a nigh-insurmountable wall between it and first-rate.
Yet no one explained that "difference" crisply.
Not even Grombel, with his clear-eyed view of the world, pinpointed the gap's origin.
And none of these five knew it either.
Pyo Chung broke the silence, muttering,
"Stick to the plan."
They'd devised a simple one.
Only one apex: the Taeui Sword Sect Leader.
Dang Mujin would block the narrow ledge with poison arts; the other four would swarm the leader.
Simple, straightforward—their best option.
Steadying breaths, they blocked the ledge's exit.
Twenty-three ascending. Five barring the way. Eyes clashed wildly.
Then Dang Mujin's sharper senses caught something off.
"...Wait, why are there two apex experts over there?"