No Wonder Bian Lian Is Dying Out
Every Tom, Dick, and Harry, apparently...
"That man is..."
"Isn't that the one from the rumors?"
"Ah! I do believe that's the Dang clan's Young Clan Head. The one who supposedly called the Nine Sects and One Union a pack of degenerates..."
"Shh! One careless word and you might catch the sparks. Just keep your mouth shut."
At the appearance of a man whose infamy had, until now, existed chiefly as rumor, the crowd began murmuring amongst themselves...
"Sahye, what do you suppose is going on here..."
"Why ask me? Ask that man over there."
"Then you go ask him. You know I'm too timid for that sort of thing."
"And you think I just stroll up and chat with strangers all day? If you're so curious, you ask!"
"Well, I mean, still..."
Meanwhile, the Moyong family's twin brother and sister were whispering furiously off to the side...
"Ha! So you're the man from those rumors? How convenient... Since fate has seen fit to introduce us, allow me to beat some sense into you!"
The man — dressed to the nines and red to the ears — promptly settled into an opening stance and leveled his sword at me.
Tilting my head at the sight of him as though I simply couldn't make sense of it, I murmured under my breath.
"How strange...? Judging by those clothes, he's from one of the great families — yet he dares to attack, knowing full well who I am? Three-on-one, no less?"
By now, everyone in the Central Plains had heard at least once the rumor that the scion of a certain quite-renowned Orthodox family had a habit of toying with women and committing every manner of depravity imaginable.
Paradoxically enough, deeds of that sort had only been possible because he hailed from the Orthodox side to begin with...
"Hey! Do you know who I am?! I am the grandson of the Elder Council Head of the Namgung family!!!"
"Aigoo... my sincerest apologies for failing to recognize Your Eminence. Please, do calm your righteous wrath..."
What made such a thing possible was, fittingly, the fact that the Orthodox factions spent their every waking hour weighing name value, prizing standing far above one's own martial strength.
Not that any of it meant a thing to me, of course...
In any case, just as I was puzzling over why this fool would charge at me even knowing I was the Dang clan's Young Clan Head—
"Take this!!!"
Fwoosh—
"Young Master!!!"
Too dim to read the room — or so secure in his backers that it amounted to the same thing. The instant his sword came chopping down toward my shoulder, Baekhwa's piercing shriek tore through the air, and I smirked as I caught the blade with my left hand.
"Ngh... let go! I said let go of it!!!"
When your blade is caught and cannot be withdrawn, the very first thing to do is drop it. Yet there he stood, still white-knuckled around the hilt, straining with all his might. I clicked my tongue.
"Tsk... Second-Rate at best? No — at this level, he'd be Third-Rate."
"You insolent wretch! I am a First-Rate warrior!!!"
"This is First-Rate? What drivel... If you're First-Rate, then I must be Transcendent."
Leaving his ever-more-pathetic figure behind, I turned my head to find that the Moyong twins had already put a healthy distance between themselves and the scene...
"Wow... when did they make it all the way over there?"
With my one free hand, I was scratching at a nagging itch on the back of my head when—
Pop.
The strength drained clean out of my left hand, and I turned to find that the sorry sight of a man had finally released his sword and — of all things — was now throwing a punch at me.
When a swordsman's blade is seized beyond recovery, he is to abandon it. The move that follows is, naturally, to flee for one's life.
This lunatic, however, appeared to have no acquaintance with such common sense, and came hurtling at me regardless.
"Wow... this guy really is insane? I'd love to see the face of whoever trained you, buddy."
Laughing in sheer disbelief, I swung my right hand around in a full arc—
WHAM—
"Hurgh..."
Like a paper doll swept up in the wind, he went sailing through the air before flopping bonelessly onto the ground.
Watching him quiver where he lay, face pressed to the dirt in what could generously be called a kiss, I strolled over at a leisurely pace, bent at the waist, and addressed him.
"This counts as self-defense, you know? You drew your blade first and came at me — isn't that right?"
Hardly were the words out of my mouth when a sword scabbard was thrust in front of my face. Raising my head to look at its owner—
"How about we leave it at this?"
A clean-cut fellow I had never once seen before was smiling faintly down at me.
"S-Senior Brother..."
Reinforcements had finally arrived — and at the sight of them, the wretched thing whimpered out the address through his tears...
"Senior Brother? So he's from a sect, after all? Ah... no wonder something felt off about him."
"It appears my junior has been discourteous. I shall offer an apology in his stead, so it would be best to end things here, I should think—"
With those words, he ignored me as though I didn't exist, gathering up his junior without so much as a glance my way.
"I'm sorry, Senior Brother..."
"It's quite all right; the fault was hardly yours. Let us return for now."
"Yes..."
Watching him support the man — a scarlet handprint still stamped across his cheek — and lead him away, I called out to stop him.
"Hey. Where do you think you're going?"
At that brazenly discourteous summons, the man turned his head to look at me...
"Is there more you wished to say?"
"You could at least tell me your name before leaving. How am I supposed to let you just walk off like this?"
"Jinmu of Wudang, they call me."
With that, Jinmu turned his head away once more and resumed walking.
"Ahh... so you're that guy? The one who, judging he couldn't win on his own merits, went and needled Murin's sister until he got himself disqualified..."
Jinmu said nothing, only trudged steadily onward — step, step — away from me.
"And back then, when he inhaled that poison mist — the tears, the snot..."
Still not a word.
"Oh, right... didn't he also soak himself from the waist down while he was at it?"
Tk—
"If it were me, I'd have gone off somewhere quiet and dropped dead. Truly befitting a Taoist, hmm?"
Jinmu's footsteps halted, and he turned back to face me...
"What? It's not as though I said anything untrue."
"You are being remarkably discourteous, I must say..."
"I spoke nothing but facts. What's discourteous about that? Discourtesy is mouthing apologies while treating a man like he doesn't exist — that's discourtesy."
"Haah... I shall offer an apology once more, so let us leave the matter here."
"And you're doing it again right now? If you were genuinely sorry, you'd bow your head at the very least... Well, you are a Taoist — perhaps that's only to be expected?"
At those words, the smile began to drain from his face.
"If you're Wudang's eldest disciple, does that mean you trained directly under Geomseon, the Sword Immortal? Well... I imagine I can guess what manner of man he is without even looking."
"You are standing upon a line at this very moment. I would advise you, most kindly, not to step fully across it."
"Pwease doon't cwoth your widdle line now..." Haah. Dumbass.
Not a word from Jinmu this time. Killing intent began rolling off him in waves...
"S-Senior Brother..."
"Silence."
The onlookers who had first gathered as if the petty squabble were a diverting show began slipping quietly away as the atmosphere curdled into something genuinely sinister.
"Hurry along, now. Linger here any longer and I doubt you'll care for what you see..."
"R-Right. That would be wise."
Even with that expressionless face and those glacial eyes fixed squarely on me, I paid him no mind whatsoever and kept right on talking.
"Come to think of it, you Taoists must be living well these days, hm? Judging by how your disciples are dressed... I honestly mistook him for a great-family scion at first. Just how deep in worldly greed has the Dao sunk, I wonder..."
"That mouth... I am quite certain I told you to close it..."
"No wonder Bian Lian is a dying art. These men who profess to cultivate the Dao certainly know how to change their faces."
"Do you... truly wish to die?"
"To the likes of you? Well, I'll grant you this — you've got patience. If I were you, I'd have drawn steel and come at me ages ago. Though, seeing as the Nine Sects and One Union have tossed dignity out the window entirely these days, I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense?"
Hssss—
And with that, he finally drew his sword...
"Hey! I haven't got all day — hurry up and come at me."
I was still snickering to myself as I said it. The instant Jinmu — rage finally getting the better of him — moved to swing his blade—
"STOP!!!"
Some beggar out of nowhere came bellowing at the top of his lungs, cleaving a path straight through the crowd.
"Enough, the both of you! The tournament begins in but a few days — you may knock each other about to your hearts' content there! What in heaven's name is the need to spill blood here and now?!"
"Elder... this man, he..."
"I heard every word! You — simply endure it. The lecturing I shall handle myself. For now, gather up that junior of yours and get yourself back."
"Understood..."
Glaring daggers at me until the very last moment, the man finally departed...
"And Muyeong — you rascal, when you see your elders, you greet them properly! What's with that stiff neck of yours..."
"Who are you?"
"Wh...what?!"
The beggar — whom I had never once met in my life — goggled at my reply, then soon clutched at the back of his neck and spoke.
"Haah... never mind. But tell me, why on earth did you needle that man so relentlessly? If anyone had overheard your words the wrong way, who knows what manner of disaster might have broken out..."
"Well... I simply wanted to see how I'd fare against him once? Isn't it a warrior's lot to test himself against the strong?"
"What a silver tongue you have!"
"Heheh... thank you. I have always been rather good with words, you see..."
"That was not a compliment! What are you grinning about?!!"
The beggar scratched vigorously at his shaggy hair and heaved a sigh.
"Whew... I'll see to the cleanup on my end, so you head back for now as well."
"Yes, well... understood."
With the street settling back into calm, I gathered Baekhwa to head home — and glanced around.
"Wow... these guys bolted the second I looked away?"
The Moyong twins had vanished at some point or another...
"Young Master, we should hurry back as well."
"Right, we should..."
Together with her, I set off toward the inn.
As the two of us walked the road dyed in the colors of dusk, Baekhwa spoke to me quietly.
"Young Master, why did you go so far back there? Weren't we only meant to provoke him a little?"
"I hadn't planned on going that far myself, but..."
Calling to mind that Jinmu fellow from moments before, I answered with an empty laugh.
"That man is no Peak Realm fighter."
"What do you mean by..."
"That Jinmu is Transcendent Realm. No Peak Realm fighter alive could whirl their qi around the middle dantian the way he did."
"Wudang hid it deliberately? Then this Dragon-Phoenix Contest is another tournament they've already rigged amongst themselves, isn't it?"
"Most likely. That fellow will take the crown regardless, and as for the remaining Dragon and Phoenix titles, the Nine Sects and One Union seem to have loosely agreed to carve up the lion's share among themselves..."
"Only Wudang and Shaolin are likely to know Jinmu's true realm. He could never hide it from Bulseong's eyes, so Wudang must have told Shaolin alone."
"Meaning the rest of the sects haven't the faintest idea?"
"I would expect not. Wudang and Shaolin are the backbone of the Nine Sects and One Union, after all. And no doubt they've doctored the brackets to favor themselves as much as possible, too."
Chatting idly away with Baekhwa like that, we arrived at the inn before I knew it.
"Dusik, I'm back!"
The moment I pushed open the inn door and announced my return, my eyes fell upon—
"Ulp... khoff, khoff..."
In one corner of the inn, the Moyong twins — who had been hard at work slurping down a hearty bowl of somen noodles — caught sight of me, apparently choked, and dissolved into a fresh fit of coughing.