The Buddha's Mercy
No one can ever know their own future.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the mountain, things were buzzing for an entirely different reason.
"Uwaaaaaah!!!"
Moyong Sahyeok had let the twin swords slip clean out of both hands, and he stood there wearing the expression of a man whose life had lost all meaning. Someone stepped close and addressed him.
"A fine bout, truly."
It was Jinmu, extending a handshake as though the events of a few days ago had never happened at all. Sahyeok answered the gesture with a bitter smile and offered his own hand.
"It was most instructive."
Over the course of the match just ended, Jinmu had unfurled Wudang's swordsmanship as though to show off its glory, and every blade Sahyeok sent at him had been turned aside as easily as parting water...
Haa... I knew it going in, but still — what a hollow feeling. No matter how favorable the matchup, none of it means a thing in the face of a difference in realm. Honestly...
In the end, when Moyong swordplay — an art that steps onto the field already holding the high ground — had been stonewalled this utterly by Wudang's parry-focused swordsmanship, Sahyeok trudged down from the arena platform in a black mood.
Of course, he had long since heard the news that Jinmu stood in the Transcendent Realm. He had known all along that a loss was the natural outcome.
But he had also heard that the man wouldn't be so rash as to draw on his hard qi, and so he had let himself hope, just a little...
"Hope, my ass..."
His slumped shoulders told the whole story. Wrapped in an air of gloom that would drag down anyone who so much as glanced his way, he shuffled off with listless, swaying steps.
At his back, the spectators still riding the high of the bout were chattering away...
"As expected, there's a reason they call him the next Greatest Under Heaven."
"Couldn't agree more, friend. They say Geomseon himself took the boy under his wing — and today he showed us exactly why."
"Still, they did say this Dragon-Phoenix Tournament would be the fiercest in a century... and already an heir of the Ten Supremes has fallen. Honestly, I can hardly believe it."
"Well, with that many heirs of the Ten Supremes entered, someone was bound to drop sooner or later. Let's see now... Geomseon, Bulseong, the Blade King, the Spear King, the Sword Queen..."
"You're forgetting the Poison King and the Sword Saint."
"Ah... those two..... In any case, what a generation this is. The Spear King's grandson was knocked out by the Hwangbo boy, and the Hwangbo boy was in turn shoved aside by the Poison King's son..."
"That said, the brackets do keep refusing to favor the Five Great Clans, don't they... could it be...?"
"And what, pray tell, are you implying, friend?"
"There's a rumor going around that the bracket was rigged..."
"Tch! Good heavens, man! You actually believe that sort of arrant nonsense? If the Clans had come out ahead, perhaps — but what earthly reason would the Nine Sects have to pull such a pointless stunt!"
"Easy, easy... it's just the sort of rumor that makes the rounds. No need to look so scandalized."
In fairness, the rigging rumors had circulated around the most recent Dragon-Phoenix Tournaments, what with matchup after matchup falling conveniently to the Nine Sects...
"Those are places devoted to the pursuit of freedom from desire in the first place! And here you are slandering them!"
Most people wrote the whole thing off with the same thought: why would the Nine Sects ever stoop to such petty tricks?
Besides, no one had the nerve to voice such things openly on Shaolin grounds, and so the crowd's attention soon drifted elsewhere...
"In any case, the title of Sword Dragon is half decided already, eh?"
"Suppose so. There's hardly anyone left who fights with a sword, and Mount Hua's Myeongwol is generally judged to be a step behind..."
The epithet of Dragon-Phoenix would go to the top eight of this tournament, and with several days of matches now behind them, the crowd had begun chattering about the future bearers of those titles, their shapes slowly coming into focus.
From there, talk flowed on to who would win the whole thing — and beyond that, who would one day become the Greatest Under Heaven...
It was the perennial argument, the topic people always fell to bickering over whenever a few of them gathered their heads together — not only up on Shaolin itself, but down in the village at its foot as well.
And naturally, with sentiment flowing this way, the gambling tables opened for business too.
At a certain out-of-the-way inn where one such table had set up shop, heated arguments were flying back and forth...
"Obviously young hero Jinmu's taking the crown!!!"
"You said it!"
"Taiji be damned — one charge from the Sword Saint's disciple and he'll go flying!"
"And what if he cuts him down with sword qi before he ever gets the chance?!"
"Did you not watch that swordswoman's bout today, hm? Her opponent watched her take sword qi on bare skin without so much as a scratch — and forfeited on the spot."
"Th-that... well... Regardless! He'll flow right around any charge with the subtle mysteries of Taiji!"
"That said, I rather fancy the Mad Blood Ghost's chances as well..."
"Taiji, my ass! If Taiji could block everything, would Geomseon have been trounced so pitifully by the Blade King a while back?"
"Ohh...? Are you besmirching Wudang just now, friend? My, my. You're a rotten one, you are."
"Haa... this is exactly why they say never to argue with a brat who's got nothing but years to show for it..."
"The Dang Clan's Young Clan Head is a possibility too, when you think ab—"
"Brat?! Get over here! Since when have you ever seen me be a brat?!"
"Fine! You and me, one round. Loser drops his trousers and struts down the street bawling 'I am an earthworm!'"
As always wherever gambling and liquor mix, a petty squabble soon escalated into a full-blown brawl...
"Aigoo... if I'd known the Mad Blood Ghost was that strong, I'd have put my money on him."
"Don't tell me you bet on Hwangbo Segwang?"
"Tsk... don't ask! My heart's already in shambles as it is!"
The others, long inured to such scenes, either ignored the pair or trailed outside to watch the fight.
"Still, the 'Taiji Wisdom Sword,' is it...? So they've gone and nailed him down as Wudang's next Sect Leader outright."
"They say he's hammering at the wall of the Transcendent Realm at barely twenty, no? That's more than enough qualification, I'd say."
"Well then... I suppose the next Greatest Under Heaven will be one of two men: Jinmu or the Mad Sword."
Some were already holding forth on the future a good thirty years down the road...
"Namgung Han? Talent or no talent, a woman is still just a woman."
Among the crowd, it turned out, were those who would spew remarks with genuinely problematic consequences, should certain ears catch them.
Perhaps the liquor had lent him courage...
...for one man was airing his unfiltered thoughts for all to hear...
"She could have married off sweet and proper into some other clan, but no — she had to raise that whole tantrum about becoming Young Clan Head."
"Friend....."
Unfortunately for him, a certain someone who absolutely should not have been hearing those words was also present in that room...
"Oho...?"
"Once she's borne a child or two, her martial progress will stall out on its own anyway. 'Greatest Under Heaven' isn't the name of some neighborhood mutt, to be slapping onto just anyone, is it!"
"Um....."
A hand clamped down on the shoulder of the man still mid-tirade, veins standing proud at his neck—
"Wh-who....."
He was, it turned out, about to answer for his words.
"'Wench,' was it? Come, then — do finish what you were saying."
Everyone fell silent and watched as she demonstrated, firsthand, that one must always be prepared to answer for the words that leave one's mouth...
"I'll stake all of this on Dang Muyeong taking the title."
With that, she staked her entire bulging purse on the unlikeliest horse in the race and swept out of the room, and only then did the crowd dare check on the human-shaped thing sprawled across the floor.
"Are you alright, friend? Why on earth would you go running your mouth like that..."
"Uuuurghhh..."
Should they be grateful for Namgung Han's mercy — she had left him half alive, when even taking his head would have been considered fair... or should they lament the sheer cruelty of the technique that had left him alive to look like that...
Looking upon a man who was, technically, alive yet hardly living, the onlookers could do nothing but shake their heads, slowly and sorrowfully, from side to side.
"No thanks? Me, of all people? Why?"
"Benefactor, please don't be like this....."
Meanwhile, I had spent a good long while going back and forth with my uninvited guest, when—
Creak.
"Big Sis...? What happened to you?!"
Namgung Han pushed open the inn door and walked in with blood dripping off her in fat, sullen drops, and I looked her over and asked.
"Great Hero Mad Sword, it has been some time. Though your... appearance, I see....."
The bald buzzcut bastard who had introduced himself as Tanhyeon — and who had spent the better part of our meeting trying to drag me off to Bulseong — asked as well, his eyes gone round as saucers.
At the question, Namgung Han broke into a wide grin, returned the greeting, and said...
"Ah, Tanhyeon... it has indeed been a while. I was merely out practicing the Buddha's teachings, nothing more."
"And just what teaching, may I ask, did you go out and practice, that you come back to us lacquered in blood from head to toe?"
"'Bestow mercy upon all sentient beings'... Is that not the teaching of the Buddha?"
What kind of mercy leaves a person looking like that... She had, after all, bestowed it twice already, and it had left her looking as though she'd been dunked whole into a vat of blood and fished back out. I said so, my face a portrait of disbelief.
"Yeesh... shouldn't you go wash up first? Anyone who sees you is going to get entirely the wrong idea....."
"Ahh, fear not — I've no intention of stealing A-woo's 'Mad Blood Ghost' from him. I'll wash up and be back before you know it."
"Shit..."
And as she headed off to do just that, I made to slip away from my seat as well, when—
"Benefactor Muyeong... our conversation has not yet concluded, has it..."
And of course, the leech latched right back onto me and picked up his pitch from earlier.
"He says he simply must meet, at least once, the one who will one day lead the Dang Clan. So it would be best for everyone if you came along..."
"Once the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament wraps up, I'll come pay my respects then. So how about you head back for today?"
"He wishes to speak with you a day sooner, if he can. He says that at his age, he cannot know when his time will come... so please, come with me."
"Ah... I sparred far too violently today and I'm frankly not of sound mind at the moment. I'm liable to commit some dreadful discourtesy. Falling asleep mid-conversation with Elder Bulseong, drooling all over the place — that would be a catastrophe, wouldn't it?"
"Benefactor... was it not Benefactor Segwang who suffered today? You did nothing but administer a one-sided beating..."
"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hit someone while holding your strength back? Would the Buddha truly say it is right to torment a man this exhausted?"
"'Neglect the present day, and there is no tomorrow,' so the saying goes. To idle away one's hours like this, with strength to spare — I suspect even the Buddha would not look kindly upon it."
"No, I'm telling you I'm about to keel over from exhaustion..."
"Fatigue, too, is but an illusion conjured by your own mind, Benefactor. You are more than capable of overcoming it."
This pointless exchange, with no end in sight whatsoever, was wearing me down in all sincerity...
"Haa... fine. Have it your way."
"Have you finally made up your mind? I shall guide you along the gentlest possible route..."
"Well, they do say that since ancient times, when words fail, one should converse with one's fists..."
"Benefactor Muyeong?"
When I drew out my fist qi with a gaunt face, bewilderment began to seep into the face of Tanhyeon, who had been smiling from start to finish.
With a screech of chairs dragging across the floor, the martial artists of the Dang Clan and a good number of others rose slowly to their feet, each hand settling on a weapon — and Tanhyeon put on a smile that anyone could see was pasted on.
"Haha... surely this jest goes too far."
..........
"H-haha..... You do seem terribly tired today, so... let us meet again some other time, then."
And with those parting words, Tanhyeon vanished in an instant...
"Tsk... if anyone asks about this later, you all stood up because you were trying to stop me. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Honestly... a scheme so transparent you can see straight through it. And it seems I've been marked, huh."
I muttered, scratching the bridge of my nose.
"Haa... guess that means I'll just have to use my hard qi too, then."
Meanwhile, someone with no idea of the future awaiting her come tomorrow was speaking to her master, her face full of solemn resolve...
"Tomorrow I'll win for sure and come back! So don't you worry!"
"Yes. No matter what anyone may say, you are my one and only disciple."
"Hehe....."
Off in the distance, the Sword Queen — who had journeyed all the way from Zhejiang — and her disciple tilted their teacups together, the two of them murmuring away in warm, cozy harmony, just the pair of them.