The Black Dragon Badge
Yeop Ji-chang, Lord of the Black Tiger Sect, had his head bowed before the magistrate of Yichang County.
"I should have come on better business, my lord. I beg your forgiveness for requesting an audience over something so unsavory."
"Ahem!"
The pot-bellied magistrate slipped the promissory note into his robe as he spoke.
"Lord Yeop, I am an official who devotes himself to the state and its temples. For a mere mortal to meddle in affairs of the martial world is, by its very nature, absurd. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?"
"Of course, my lord. I shall see it resolved quietly."
"Then you may go."
Yeop Ji-chang backed out of the room with his head still lowered, sliding the door shut behind him.
"Hahaha! Now then—shall we have some fun?"
"Allow me to pour the first drink, my lord!"
Before long, the sounds of boisterous carousing echoed from inside the chamber.
"……"
When Yeop Ji-chang turned away, his face had gone so cold it might have belonged to another man entirely.
He returned to his own office without a word.
Thud!
Even after sinking into his chair, he stared out the window for a long while. The silence hung in the air like a sheet of thin ice—and then, abruptly, he spoke.
"Where are the Captain and Gun-pyeong?"
"They haven't arrived yet, my lord."
"Tell them to come straight up the moment they return."
"Yes, my lord."
"And bring me a bottle of wine."
Not long after his subordinate left, a servant brought the drink. Yeop Ji-chang began gulping down the harsh, fiery liquor with not a single dish to accompany it.
How in the world did the Fierce Tiger Saber end up like this?
The past swept through his mind. The days when he had feared nothing and faltered before no one. He had climbed from a nameless blade to the upper echelons of the Society, and even the vaunted warriors of the great orthodox sects had flinched at the thought of crossing him.
He had been a mountain lord. He had believed he was destined to become the mountain lord who would dominate this generation of the jianghu and its forests of blades.
If only that one thing had never happened…
Yeop Ji-chang's eyes trembled faintly.
That was when it came.
"Father, I'm here."
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, shaking off the old memories.
"Come in."
Creeeak!
Yeop Gun-pyeong sauntered in with his usual swaggering gait. Baek Seo-gun, the sect captain, followed behind him with his head ducked low, like a man bearing his own guilt.
"Why summon me so urgently? I was in the middle of the errand you gave me."
"You were working?"
Yeop Ji-chang let out a dry snort. Something in his father's reaction struck Yeop Gun-pyeong as odd, and his brow creased.
"Father? What's the matter…"
The word '—er?' never made it out. Yeop Ji-chang's fist reached his face first.
CRACK!
"Gahk!"
Yeop Gun-pyeong crashed gracelessly into the bookshelf and rolled across the floor. Yeop Ji-chang flexed his fingers and gazed down at his son with cold indifference.
"Why did you do it?"
"Hk—kgh! Wh-why…"
Yeop Gun-pyeong struggled to his feet.
THWACK!
Yeop Ji-chang swung his fist at him again.
"Why did you do it?"
"Fa-Father!"
"I asked you a question. Why did you do it?"
"P-please!"
Thud! THWACK!
The discipline—no, the beating—continued without pause.
"……"
Baek Seo-gun stood trembling, his face drained of all color. Even with a witness present, Yeop Ji-chang didn't care. No—if anything, he carried on with his merciless assault as if he wanted the man to watch.
CRASH!
He beat his son so thoroughly that Yeop Gun-pyeong's hair and clothes were left a complete mess. Even the sword tucked at his waist was knocked loose and went clattering across the floor.
"Fa-Father, please! Wh-why are you doing this all of a sudden?"
"Why am I doing this? Isn't that the very question I asked you?"
Finally, Yeop Gun-pyeong could hold back no longer and lashed out in desperation.
"All I did was burn down a house! Why should I be punished for that? Yichang is our territory, isn't it? Why the hell do we have to keep living like whipped dogs?"
At that, Yeop Ji-chang's glistening eyes swung toward Baek Seo-gun.
The captain sweated rivers and kept his head bowed.
"Captain Baek. Tell me. Why have we been forced to hide like rats?"
"W-we are in the middle of a critical negotiation with an officer from the Iron Blood Fortress. Once we secure Yichang and fulfill several conditions, we will be placed under the Fortress's protection—"
"So you did know. And here I thought you'd simply forgotten."
"F-forgive me, my lord."
In that instant, Yeop Gun-pyeong doubted his own ears.
"The Iron Blood Fortress? You mean the Iron Blood Fortress?"
Wasn't that the most feared power in all the Unorthodox Faction? Yeop Gun-pyeong, who had never dreamed such a deal was in motion, broke out in a cold sweat.
"Th-that's why we've been swallowing Yichang so quietly, so as not to draw the eyes of other powers. Now do you understand why?"
"I-I didn't know—"
In that moment, Yeop Ji-chang kicked out without mercy.
CRUNCH!
"AAAAH!"
Only after the sound of splintering bone and the scream that followed did Yeop Ji-chang bite his tongue.
"…Useless fool."
He shot a glare at his groaning son, then dropped heavily into his chair.
"Sit down."
"Ugh… ngh…"
"Sit."
Clutching his arm, Yeop Gun-pyeong staggered into a seat.
"When that arm heals, you'll be locking yourself in seclusion. One year… no, two. You'll stay shut away for two years."
"T-two years, Father?"
Ignoring the tremor in his father's voice, Yeop Ji-chang turned to Baek Seo-gun.
"Captain Baek. You will see this matter resolved properly. Or else… do I make myself clear?"
"O-of course, my lord."
"Father! Please! Please, just forgive me this once!"
Yeop Ji-chang callously ignored his son's desperate cries and rose from his seat.
That was when it happened.
As he turned toward the door, his gaze locked onto a single point.
…What is that?
Yeop Ji-chang stopped breathing.
An old sword. It lay sprawled across the wrecked floor of the office—thrown loose from Yeop Gun-pyeong's belt moments ago.
Yeop Ji-chang reached out slowly.
Slowly, so very slowly.
With the utmost care, he lifted the sword and drew it halfway from its sheath.
Shiiing!
A pale-blue gleam of cold steel slid into view.
In that instant, Yeop Ji-chang froze like a statue.
"Father? What's wrong?"
Yeop Gun-pyeong, studying his father's face, flinched in alarm.
It was the face of a man who had seen a ghost. The color was draining from Yeop Ji-chang's cheeks at a frightening pace, and his wide-open eyes quaked as if the ground itself had split beneath him.
His whole body began to shudder violently.
So violent was the trembling that even Baek Seo-gun and Yeop Gun-pyeong, mere onlookers, felt a chill of dread crawl up their spines.
"…You."
Yeop Ji-chang turned to his son, slowly.
"Where did this sword come from?"
In a quiet corner of Yichang, beggars had gathered in a shack at the end of an alley.
"HAAAAAM! Mm!"
One of them stretched out a long, lazy yawn. Leaning back against the wall, he idly prodded the beggar beside him with his foot.
"Hey, Wang-pal. Nothing going on today either?"
"Nope."
"Then tell me something interesting, at least."
"Ah! Sub-branch Leader! Why do you keep kicking me?"
"What's this, you little wretch? I'm the one who taught you how to beg for your rice, and this is how you talk to me?"
"Come on! My head's been spinning ever since the Esoteric Cult Rebellion!"
The Beggars Sect, Yichang Sub-branch. Its leader, Jang Chil-sam, snickered and stretched into another long yawn.
Even with the Esoteric Cult Rebellion over, the world was still in chaos—but the jianghu was finding its peace again at a remarkable pace. And since Yichang had suffered relatively little from the war, it had settled down all the sooner.
Which meant the sub-branch leader, Jang Chil-sam, could afford to while away his days in idleness.
The Black Tiger Sect boys have been acting suspicious lately, though.
Still, they weren't even proper Dark Sects—just neighborhood thugs. Sure, they'd been shifty lately, but for small-time criminals they kept things remarkably clean, and they punished their own whenever anyone stepped over the line. There was simply no grounds to investigate.
Leaving the bad eggs alone made his blood boil, but poking the hornet's nest would only make public order worse. A necessary evil, you might call it.
Hmmm. Maybe I should dig into that house fire from a while back.
Jang Chil-sam smacked his lips.
"Peace and quiet like this—can't beat it."
"Would it kill you to do some actual work? How does a man who once served in the Alliance's intelligence division end up like this?"
"That's the single greatest regret of my life. I nearly died doing that dirty work, and now look how good I have it. Heh heh!"
A full granary made hearts generous, they said—and with the jianghu at peace, even begging came easy. Jang Chil-sam wanted nothing more than for things to stay exactly as they were.
But then—
"Sub-branch Leader!"
A young beggar came sprinting in, sweeping the skies with his eyes.
"What is it?"
"Someone's here! They're asking for you, Sub-branch Leader!"
"Me? Someone came looking for me? At the sub-branch?"
Jang Chil-sam's and Wang-pal's eyes met and locked.
The Beggars Sect was a martial sect, yes—but it was also an intelligence organization. The location of one of its branch strongholds was, naturally, meant to be a secret.
"Who are they? Where from? Don't tell me they're from the Alliance?"
"Th-they said I'd know once I showed you this."
The young beggar, hardly more than a boy, held out a dark, polished nameplate. The moment Jang Chil-sam laid eyes on it, the color of his face changed entirely.
"Wang-pal."
"Yes—I'll gather the men."
Jang Chil-sam hauled himself up and stepped out of the shack. Soon they entered the shabby building behind it, and there, seated in a chair, was a powerfully built man.
Jang Chil-sam flinched.
What is with this atmosphere…?
Was he imagining it? Somehow, the shadows around the man's seat seemed to pool thicker, darker.
"Ahem!"
Dropping heavily into the chair across from him, Jang Chil-sam narrowed his eyes.
"And who might you be, coming from where?"
"Are you the Sub-branch Leader of the Beggars Sect, Yichang?"
"That's none of your business. Answer the question first?"
Jang Chil-sam propped his chin on his hand and glared at the man.
The man—Jin Cheong-un—answered plainly.
"A sub-branch leader of your caliber should know exactly what a Black Dragon Badge is."
"Sure. I know it well enough."
"I want to buy information. Have you investigated the Black Tiger Sect? Do you have anything prepared on them?"
"Ahh, the Black Tiger Sect. The Black Tiger Sect, you say."
Jang Chil-sam muttered to himself for a moment—then flashed a wide grin.
"But did you know? That badge you brought."
"…?"
"That Black Dragon Badge was recalled half a year ago."
Jang Chil-sam said it with a sly smile.
In an instant, every Beggars Sect member sprawled throughout the ruined building rose as one.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sight of them gripping and releasing their striped staves in unison was deeply menacing. Jang Chil-sam wore a cold, twisted smile.
"Black Dragon Badges are recalled on a set schedule and reissued after. They're only given to those who carry out missions important—and dangerous—enough to warrant that."
"……"
"And anyone qualified to hold one would know that. Which means you either stole it, or you killed its owner. Either way…"
The moment the words left his mouth, Jang Chil-sam's hand shot out like a bolt of lightning.
GRIPO!
Seizing Jin Cheong-un by the collar, he bared his eyes and growled.
"Who the hell are you? The Fortress? The Alliance? Or a leftover of the Esoteric Cult?"
The air went taut, one spark from disaster.
But Jin Cheong-un did nothing at all. He simply stared at Jang Chil-sam.
Well, look at this guy?
Not so much as a blink, even in this situation?
Jang Chil-sam ran his eyes up and down Jin Cheong-un—and then abruptly froze, his brow knotting deep.
What kind of life did a man have to live for his body to end up like that?
The chest exposed by his grabbed collar was packed edge to edge with scars of every shape and size, large and small.
And that wasn't all.
Hm? What's that?
Jang Chil-sam's eyes narrowed. Between the scars, a pattern was visible—one that looked deliberately etched.
"Well, well. You've got tattoos?"
Inking one's skin was, by tradition, a defilement of the body granted by one's parents. The men who bore them came in three kinds: slaves, heretic sorcerers, or madmen.
Looking closer, the mark seemed to be the character for fourteen—a ten layered over a four. In its sound, "fourteen" skirted dangerously close to "the world is death" or "surely you die," and was regarded as deeply ill-omened.
A member of some secret organization? What does it mean? Fourteen. Fourteen. Fou—
Jang Chil-sam's hand slipped from Jin Cheong-un's collar like water.
"Ah—ah!"
He had heard the story before. The Black Dragon Unit—the unit said to be thrown at the single most dangerous missions in the entire Martial Alliance. And there was a rumor that within that unit, by some bitter irony, a tradition held that those who survived the deadliest missions and returned alive were branded with exactly that mark.
And in this generation, only one man bore it. Word of his retirement had spread in whispers through both the orthodox sects and the unorthodox alike.
The sharpest blade in the Alliance Leader's hand. The man whose epithet even the pinnacle masters of the jianghu had feared to speak—
GRIPO!
Yeop Ji-chang, beside himself with agitation, lunged at his son and seized him by the collar.
"Speak! Why do you have this sword?"
"Wh-what are you doing? It's just that academy master's sword!"
"What? Who? The academy master…?"
In an instant, Yeop Ji-chang's face twisted.
"Don't tell me—the martial academy master?"
"Yes! There was this old sword in the man's room, so I just took it!"
"T-tell me in detail—"
"Yes?"
"Tell me in detail! What it looked like! Any features! Anything! Now!"
"Well, the thing is, I never actually s-saw it myself…"
Seeing the bloodshot veins in his father's eyes, Yeop Gun-pyeong gulped down a ragged breath. It was Baek Seo-gun who spoke up in haste.
"H-his age looked to be early thirties, height about six chi, and… his eyes were sharp, but his face was strikingly handsome, and…"
Baek Seo-gun continued in a shaking voice. But before long, as if recalling something, he turned deathly pale.
"C-could it be…?"
"……"
"No, it can't be. Th-there's no way… there's simply no way, right?"
Silence fell over the room.
At last, Yeop Ji-chang burst into unhinged laughter.
"Heh, hehehe, heheheheh!"
Yeop Gun-pyeong looked back and forth between the two men in bewilderment.
"What on earth is going on? Who is this man? Why are you like this?"
"This man? Heh, heheh. You ask who he is?"
Yeop Ji-chang's breathing grew ragged. Staring blankly down at the old sword, he spoke.
"The Sword Ghost."
"Yes?"
"You… you set fire to the Sword Ghost's home and stole his blade!"