The Debt Collected

Jang Chil-sam kept bowing and scraping as he spoke.

"I-is this enough?"

"You don't happen to have a layout map of the manor, do you?"

"W-we don't, but I can send someone to find out!"

"If you don't have one, that's fine."

"No, sir! I'll have it here right away! Hey, all of you! What are you standing around for? Move!"

"I said it's fine."

"I heard you! Come back here!"

The Beggars Sect disciples wore sour expressions.

Has the sub-branch leader lost his mind?

Why on earth was their leader, always so playful and easygoing about everything, acting this wound-up?

"How much for the information fee?"

"An information fee? No, sir! How could I possibly dare—!"

"I'll say it again. I'm no longer an Alliance officer, just a retired martial artist. Don't stand on ceremony."

"I insist! This way is more comfortable for me!"

Wow. Does that back of his ever straighten? How does he stay bent like that?

Before long, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the visitor grudgingly left one money pouch behind.

"Then consider this payment for the favor I'm about to ask."

"Sir? W-we humbly apologize, but we'd rather not get involved in—"

"I don't need you involved. Just the cleanup afterward."

Jin Cheong-un rose from his seat.

"Well then, I'll take my leave."

"If— if it isn't too impertinent... might I ask just one thing?"

Jang Chil-sam kept wiping cold sweat from his brow with his grimy sleeve as he asked.

"Was the retirement... really a front, like the rumors say?"

Jin Cheong-un shook his head with a perfectly blank expression.

"Not a front. I really did retire."

"Then... why are you trying to build an academy?"

"..."

Jin Cheong-un narrowed his eyes and studied Jang Chil-sam.

"So you know who I am, then."

"I served in the Alliance's intelligence division in the past. I escorted you personally during the Guicheongok incident... do you not remember?"

The Beggars Sect disciples' eyes went wide.

As if anyone could forget the Guicheongok incident. It was the affair where the murder-mad martial artists of Guicheongok had been found one morning, slaughtered in the most gruesome fashion.

"So you were one of the support unit."

"It was the first time I'd seen your true face without a mask or disguise, so I didn't recognize you at once. My apologies."

"What is it you want to say?"

In an instant, Jang Chil-sam's expression turned deadly serious.

"If you truly have retired, why would you step back into the muddy current?"

"..."

"You of all people know that an academy is a tangled knot — the harder you try to pull it apart, the more it snarls."

"I do know."

Jin Cheong-un turned away.

"That's why I mean to cut it loose before it tangles any worse."

"...!"

"I'll be counting on you."

With those parting words, Jin Cheong-un left.

The sub-branch leader who hadn't so much as blinked when the district elder came calling scurried out after him to see him off personally, then returned.

"..."

A heavy silence settled over the sub-branch.

After trading meaningful glances — you ask him — the youngest disciple finally spoke up.

"Sub-branch leader, who in the world is that man, that you're carrying on like this?"

"Is he some inspector from the Imperial Censorate, perhaps?"

"...I'd sooner deal with one of those."

"Sir?"

Jang Chil-sam swayed and collapsed into his chair.

"Uuugh."

Half his soul seemed to have left his body; he dragged a hand down his face.

"Wang Pal! Get the boys ready."

"Sir?"

"The Black Tiger Sect's signboard will be coming down soon enough."

The Sword Ghost?

Isn't that a fairly common sort of nickname?

"I-I don't know. Some chieftain of the Unorthodox Factions, maybe?"

"A chieftain of the Unorthodox Factions?"

Yeop Ji-chang let out a hollow, incredulous laugh.

"The blade the Alliance Leader used to send after the Unorthodox chieftains — to kill them."

"What?"

"You don't know. Right... of course you wouldn't."

Yeop Ji-chang pressed a hand over his eyes. His hand was still trembling.

"Did you kill him?"

"What?"

"Did you just burn his house down? Or was that manor lord... was he there?"

"W-well, you see..."

At his son's evasive hemming and hawing, laughter suddenly spilled out of Yeop Ji-chang. Before long he was shaking with it, shoulders heaving — and there was madness in the sound.

He laughed alone for a long while, then finally spoke as if tossing the words away.

"Do you know how Yeo Woon-baek came to hold the name he does in the Jianghu today?"

"Yeo Woon-baek? The Martial Arts Alliance Leader? Isn't it simply because he *is* the Alliance Leader, and his martial arts are strong?"

"Because he's the Alliance Leader? Hah."

Yeop Ji-chang scoffed as if the very idea were absurd.

"Plenty of people have strong martial arts. And the seat of Alliance Leader was, by tradition, nothing but a hollow title."

"What?"

Yeop Ji-chang lowered his hand from his eyes and leaned back into his chair. Not a trace of composure remained on his face.

"Whatever his personal abilities, Yeo Woon-baek was a man of humble origins. The orthodox sects had always picked nothing but scarecrows for the seat — men the elders could manipulate at will..."

"B-but the current Leader—!"

Yeo Woon-baek. His reputation in this era was far too formidable to be dismissed as any scarecrow.

Wasn't he regarded as a leader who had seized the reins of the Alliance's power, a mighty warrior who had carried ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the war to victory?

"Yeo Woon-baek was like that at first, too. At first..."

Letting his words trail off, Yeop Ji-chang slowly rose from his seat.

"And then one day, he acquired a very sharp blade."

Eyes brimming with fear and fury alike turned toward Yeop Gun-pyeong.

"A viciously sharp blade. Reckless, cruel, certain to draw blood the moment it left its sheath — and yet guaranteed to see any mission through, no matter what."

Yeop Gun-pyeong realized his father wasn't talking about a blade at all, but about a person.

"Once, the sect leader of the Noksangeom Gate — a faction as large as any of the great sects — and all his officers were assassinated in a single night. Six masters, wiped out at once."

Yeop Gun-pyeong had heard that story too.

No one ever learned whether that monster was a man of the Unorthodox or the Orthodox. And so the Murim gave that unidentified master a certain nickname.

"Do you mean the Black Asura?"

"That was his first name."

Yeop Ji-chang burst into a great guffaw, as if the whole situation were too absurd, too ridiculous.

"The Sword Ghost — the sharpest blade that turned a scarecrow into a true Alliance Leader."

The mirth drained from his face all at once, and his voice sank into something sinister.

"The Blue-Eyed Yama — who assassinated the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leader of the Heavenly Earth Society, once the finest of the Dark Road."

"..."

"And the reason this father of yours — once a member of that very Heavenly Earth Society — scurried off like a cornered rat to hide in this backwater!"

CRASH!

Yeop Gun-pyeong was flung backward by his father's violent hand and slammed into the wall.

"It was him. It was all because of what that man did."

"U-uh, uh, ah..."

"And you! Of all people, my own son had to go and touch him!"

THUD!

Yeop Gun-pyeong crumpled to the floor, his legs giving out beneath him.

"..."

Yeop Ji-chang glared at his son as if he might kill him where he sat, then abruptly turned his head away.

It was an untold secret of the Jianghu.

No — truthfully, anyone who mattered already knew. Secret or not, the man had strutted openly across the Jianghu, in plain sight of all.

But the Alliance Leader who owned that blade called the Sword Ghost, the great names who'd been run through by it, and the Sword Ghost himself had all kept quiet and buried it as best they could. Out of that strange equilibrium, a sword demon was born — a secret that was no secret at all.

"Th-this makes no sense!"

"..."

"Some country bumpkin is really someone that terrifying? Why would a man like that even be in a place like Yinghua Village?"

Yeop Ji-chang sneered.

"Word was he retired ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠due to his injuries... and as it happens, that was his hometown. Of course it was."

He turned from his son and walked to the window. The hand gripping the windowsill trembled violently.

Before long, he spoke in a voice sunk deep and low.

"Captain Baek."

"Y-yes, my lord."

"Since he won't simply die for us, we prepare for war. And you, Pyeong..."

Yeop Ji-chang smiled bitterly.

"You had best pray his injuries are real. No — pray he's stricken with some mortal illness."

"...!"

"Because I, at least, have never once heard of a man the Sword Ghost decided to kill who managed to escape."

These past few days, Yichang had been quiet.

The Black Tiger Sect men who had planted themselves in every village had vanished without a trace.

"...My lord, are you all right?"

Yeop Ji-chang, his face grown noticeably gaunt in just a few days, received Baek Seo-gun's report.

"How goes it?"

"We've summoned every man of the sect, and nearly fifty of us are holding the headquarters grounds like a fortress."

"Not that. I meant the information on him."

"According to our most reliable sources, he does appear to have suffered grave injuries."

"Is the intelligence trustworthy?"

"Yes, sir — paid a premium for it this time as well. And he was always famous for moving so... cautiously. The rumors had spread gradually, one ear at a time."

"And how severe, exactly?"

"They say his internal injuries were so deep that his vital energy and meridians were badly damaged."

"Precisely how severe!"

When Yeop Ji-chang's voice suddenly rose, the captain flinched.

"The accounts vary, my lord, but many say he can no longer draw on more than thirty percent of his power, and that his condition is such he must rest until the day he dies."

"Thirty percent, and barely able to move..."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Yeop Ji-chang drummed the table with a feverish face.

Baek Seo-gun swallowed once before speaking.

"My lord. I never saw the Black Asura of old with my own eyes, but when I looked upon him the other day, his presence was nothing like his reputation."

Baek Seo-gun had once read a wanted-style dossier describing the Sword Ghost's features, yet he hadn't recognized the man when he saw him in the flesh. Because the Jin Cheong-un he'd actually beheld carried himself in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with that fearsome name.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Think on it, my lord. If he were still the man he once was, would he have simply let me walk away? No — would things have spiraled this far in the first place?"

"..."

"Besides, has this sect not spent all this time building up its strength against just such a contingency?"

Strength.

Yes. He had built up his strength.

Yeop Ji-chang closed his eyes, murmuring the words over.

The memory of that day was still vivid.

The image of the monster who had stormed the Heavenly Earth Society's leader's villa with only ten men and cut down every last guard.

"Sir, he isn't on the roster. Shall we deal with him?"

The blue-tinged blade that had pressed against his throat. That blade was in his own hand now.

Back then, he had begged for his life, hands and knees on the floor.

Please, spare me. I'm nothing but an insignificant errand boy.

They had left injuries on his body that could never be washed clean, and let him live.

But worse than the injuries was the fear branded into his very soul like a burn.

Throb!

The scar from that day ached.

Even now, the look in that man's eyes remained sharp in his memory.

He hadn't earned the name Asura for nothing. Those eyes had held nothing but inhuman killing intent and cold detachment.

That day, he had fled with his men and hidden himself in Yichang.

Revenge? He hadn't dared dream of it.

No — he hadn't dreamed of it. Even now, the mere thought of that man's face...

SLAM!

Yeop Ji-chang, who had suddenly brought his fist down on the table, eyes flashing open.

"That's enough... I can't sit like this forever."

"M-my lord?"

"If he won't come to us, we simply strike first."

His eyes, glistening with killing intent, swung toward Baek Seo-gun.

"How goes the work on his academy? Still under construction?"

"Yes, the construction is in full swing. From that alone, he seems to simply be biding his time."

"We prepare to strike first. And... bring out 'that' as well."

"Sir?"

The captain went pale.

"You don't mean... the gunpowder, my lord?"

"Yes. Have it ready."

"My lord!"

All this while, the Black Tiger Sect had kept its head down and grown its power strictly within legal bounds.

But the Dark Road was still the Dark Road. While absorbing the local criminal gangs, the sect had quietly stockpiled plenty of unlawful materials.

"...Yes, my lord. I'll have it ready."

At Baek Seo-gun's glance, one of the men slipped swiftly out the back.

"Might be a blessing in disguise, really. How much longer am I meant to rot buried in this village, anyway?"

Yeop Ji-chang's eyes gleamed as he stared out the window, hands clasped behind his back.

If he took the Sword Ghost's head, he might not need to barter with the Iron Blood Fortress's masters — he might enter their walls as a guest outright.

And if he were paid an elixir or the like as a reward, might he not finally wipe away this old, festering injury?

That was when it happened.

"My lord — the captain of the Fierce Tiger Guard is here."

"What is it?"

A powerfully built man strode into the office.

"A letter has just arrived for you, my lord."

"A letter? Give it here."

It was thick to a strange degree.

The moment he peeled it open—

Tap!

A single sheet of paper dropped out. Yeop Ji-chang picked it up, and his brow furrowed.

A promissory note from the Central Plains' finest exchange house?

A promissory note — a certificate that let one move vast sums without hauling chests of gold and silver.

The letter wrapping it bore exactly eight characters:

The monetary debt is settled; now I come to collect the debt of the deed.

"Who brought this?"

"A young escort courier, my lord. He insisted you had to receive it personally, bowing and begging all the while."

"Not six hundred nyang, nor seven hundred — six hundred and seventy-four. What in the world is this?"

Baek Seo-gun froze.

"How much did you say, my lord?"

"A promissory note worth six hundred seventy-four nyang in silver."

"...!"

Baek Seo-gun's face went ashen.

"What's the matter?"

"That amount... it matches, to the coin, the debt owed to the Zheng market."

"What did you say?"

And then—

BOOM. The building suddenly shuddered.

"...?"

Yeop Ji-chang turned his head, dazed.

Then—

KRA-KOOOOOM!

A colossal detonation ripped through the Black Tiger Sect headquarters.

It wasn't from outside.

It wasn't the gate, either.

Inside the main gate — the outer courtyard.

He was already inside their walls.

"AAAAAGH!"

"Intruders! We're under attack!"

Horrified screams erupted one after another.