Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 003
Chapter Title: Fortuitous Encounter
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The door to the barracks swung open, and Squad Leader Jo Ja-muk stepped inside. He swept his gaze across the room before heading straight for Seok Du-myeong.
Gong Seo-chil hurried over to the squad leader.
"Squad Leader, you're here. The noodles are pretty decent—want me to fix you a bowl?"
"No need."
Jo Ja-muk cut him off curtly and plopped down on the edge of the bunk where Seok Du-myeong lay.
Yeom-pal, sprawled on the neighboring bunk, spotted the squad leader and whipped around from his noodle-munching position, making no secret of his sulkiness.
"Hey, Jin Yeom-pal, still sore about it? Serves you right for getting half-killed like that. Should've lost the whole damn arm."
"What kinda harsh crap is that? I can barely use the damn thing as it is."
Yeom-pal grumbled without even glancing at the squad leader.
"Sure, sure. The guy who says his arm hurts too much to move slurps down noodles just fine with it."
Yeom-pal choked on his noodles and started pounding his chest.
Ignoring him completely, Jo Ja-muk tossed a comment toward Seok Du-myeong.
"Seok Du-myeong, the Demon-Exterminating Corps Leader's summoning you."
"The Corps Leader?"
Seok Du-myeong shot up in surprise, repeating the words.
The Demon-Exterminating Corps Leader, Life-Reaping Blade Wi Ji-hyeok, wasn't someone a lowly warrior like Seok Du-myeong could just bump into on the street.
Wi Ji-hyeok was a living legend among ronin—a hero who commanded the respect of every last one of them.
Seok Du-myeong himself had been fighting in this war as a Corps member for four years now, but all he'd managed were a few distant glimpses. They'd never exchanged so much as a word.
"Why would the Corps Leader want to see me...?"
"How should I know? I heard it from the platoon leader myself. Anyway, message delivered—go report to him."
Seok Du-myeong tilted his head in confusion.
"Ah, bro, why're you just sitting there? Go on already. Maybe he's got a fat reward waiting."
Yeom-pal chimed in.
The word "reward" made Seok Du-myeong leap to his feet. Suddenly, his mind cleared like a veil had lifted.
'Yeah, I haven't done anything wrong or shady. Who knows? Maybe Yeom-pal's right and it's cash.'
Seok Du-myeong straightened his clothes as best he could and stepped out of the barracks.
"Bro, if you score that reward, don't hold out on us. Throw a proper feast!"
Yeom-pal bellowed at the back of Seok Du-myeong's head as he was about to leave.
That guy, Yeom-pal—never any real help, but always ready to grab a free bite. Well, that was a talent in its own way.
Dusk was already settling outside.
Feeling the sharp winter chill closing in, Seok Du-myeong tugged his collar tight and headed out.
*
Finding the Demon-Exterminating Corps Leader's barracks was a breeze.
It sat on a slightly elevated spot with a low hill, giving a clear view of all the Corps members' tents below.
Two sentries stood guard out front.
"The Corps Leader summoned me."
The sentries' faces soured at Seok Du-myeong's words.
"Hey, watch your tone, punk."
The more seasoned-looking of the two growled, clearly offended.
With his rugged features and upturned eyes, the veteran sentry bristled at Seok Du-myeong's casual speech to a stranger.
But Seok Du-myeong had no reason to bow and scrape.
"We're not even in the same squad, and I've got more years under my belt than you. Can't I speak plainly?"
"You little shit, do you even know where you are?"
The veteran's eyes narrowed to slits, practically drawing his sword as he yelled in fury.
'Idiot. You're not the Corps Leader yourself—what's so special about standing watch at his tent?'
Seok Du-myeong sneered inwardly, hand resting on his sword hilt, ready to counter.
"Jo Jin, let him in. That's the man I summoned."
At that moment, Wi Ji-hyeok's deep, resonant voice—infused with inner power—boomed from inside the tent.
Even from a good distance away, it sounded like he was right beside them. A peak master was a peak master, alright.
'No wonder that Jo Jin punk was throwing his weight around.'
Seok Du-myeong shoved past the guy named Jo Jin and strode into the Corps Leader's tent.
*
Demon-Exterminating Corps Leader Wi Ji-hyeok.
A ronin who'd made his name by triumphing over countless martial artists in duels, earning the moniker Life-Reaping Blade—a true peak expert.
His domineering Life-Reaping Blade Style was legendary in the jianghu: no one who'd witnessed it lived to tell the tale.
His strong sense of justice shone through in tales like hunting down the notorious Gansu Twin Evils for half a year, then slaughtering the peak experts in a single stroke amid their combined assault. Stories like that were still whispered in awe.
Stoic by nature yet always there for struggling ronin, he commanded widespread admiration.
Rumor had it the Murim Alliance had pulled out all the stops to recruit him as Corps Leader.
The tent interior was modestly sized and sparsely furnished: just a table, chair, and bunk.
Across from the table sat an elderly man who looked over sixty.
At first glance, he seemed like a kindly neighborhood uncle—hardly the image of the fearsome Life-Reaping Blade's master.
"So you're the famous Seok Du-myeong. Come, sit. It's humble quarters, but make yourself at home."
Wi Ji-hyeok gestured warmly to the seat opposite him.
As Seok Du-myeong settled in, Wi Ji-hyeok spoke up.
"Have we ever met one-on-one before?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"I see. A pity. I regret not seeking you out sooner. Word has it your moniker is Undying Survivor—the lowly warrior who scrapes by in every battle. Not an easy feat around here. Plenty have survived four years from the war's start with limbs intact, but they're mostly officers, first-rate experts at minimum. I've never seen a regular foot soldier like you make it unscathed."
"Just got lucky."
"Luck, hmm... maybe."
Wi Ji-hyeok paused, eyeing Seok Du-myeong intently.
"Do you know that luck is a skill in itself?"
"Never thought about it."
"No, it's true. Luck matters more than skill sometimes, from my experience. Unless you're the world's greatest, you'll face stronger foes—and your fate hinges on who they are. That's how I earned this overly grand Life-Reaping Blade title and my fame. Looking back, 'seventy percent luck, thirty percent skill' rings true. I've lost a handful of deathmatches myself. But my opponents spared me—pure luck. Had that stronger master finished me off, I wouldn't be here, and my arts wouldn't have reached this level. In that sense, your luck is innate talent, a true skill. Don't you think?"
He had that comfy neighborhood uncle vibe going... until he started yapping.
'Damn, uncles from the neighborhood sure love to talk.'
Seok Du-myeong braced himself. One wrong word, and he might be stuck overnight in this command tent.
He resolved to stay silent and just nod along.
Seok Du-myeong dipped his head as if in agreement.
Silently...
The Corps Leader sank into deep thought, his face grave.
He pondered silently for what felt like half an hour, as if Seok Du-myeong weren't even there. Then he spoke.
"Have you heard the legend of the Clear Wind Sword Emperor?"
"No, sir."
This one required a verbal reply; he couldn't just shake his head.
"Hm... I suppose not. It's not a well-known tale. Most haven't heard of the Clear Wind Sword Emperor. But it's no mere legend—it really happened. I learned it from my master..."
Wi Ji-hyeok began recounting the tale of the Clear Wind Sword Emperor to Seok Du-myeong.
It dragged on forever, but in summary:
Two hundred years ago, another massive righteous-demonic war had erupted, just like this one.
The Demonic Cult swept through the Central Plains like an unstoppable tide, overrunning Gansu, Sichuan, and Shaanxi, now threatening Hubei and Henan.
With no Murim Alliance back then, elites from the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families banded together to form a final defensive line in Henan Province.
To assassinate the Demonic Cult Leader, Elder Gong Mun-seon of Shaolin rallied top experts from the sects and families into a strike team.
Intel revealed the Cult Leader traveling with minimal guards near Mount Song, close to Shaolin. They mobilized to Hidden Lotus Mountain nearby.
The strike team—nearly fifty strong—clashed with the Cult Leader and his Four Great Protectors in a swampy depression without hesitation.
In their desperate war, they couldn't pass up this heaven-sent chance.
On paper, the team vastly outnumbered the five foes.
But they'd overlooked something: the Cult Leader was the closest to being the world's best, and the Protectors ranked in the Cult's top ten.
The battle quickly turned one-sided in the Cult's favor. No one even reached the Leader.
The Protectors overwhelmed them; over half the team lay dead or gravely wounded before an hour passed.
Annihilation loomed.
Enter Dan Mun-hyeok of the Clear Wind Sword. His prowess was terrifying.
He battered the Four Great Protectors, buying the righteous team a breather, then clashed with the Heavenly Demon himself—matching him blow for blow, shocking everyone.
Their earth-shattering duel raged half a day, ending in mutual mortal wounds.
The Heavenly Demon barely dodged a heart strike from the Clear Wind Sword but took a gaping chest wound.
Dan Mun-hyeok lost an arm and suffered irreparable damage to his dantian.
The Protectors whisked the Heavenly Demon back to the Cult, but Dokgo Cheon succumbed to his injuries a month later.
Dan Mun-hyeok vanished after that. Given his state, everyone assumed him dead.
With the Cult's retreat, the war ended. The righteous coalition's official announcement credited Elder Gong Mun-seon, Mount Hua Sword Hero, Poison King, Tai Chi Sword Venerable, Heaven-Penetrating Thunder Sword, and Clear Wind Sword with slaying the Cult Leader and Protectors in a combined assault.
In truth, Dan Mun-hyeok had single-handedly pressured the Protectors and mortally wounded the Leader, effectively killing him.
But the Alliance's version conveniently painted it as a group effort.
Among eyewitnesses was Wi Ji-hyeok's master.
He hailed Dan Mun-hyeok as Clear Wind Sword Emperor and passed the full story—straight from his own eyes—to his disciples.
Thus, Wi Ji-hyeok learned it from his master.
That was the gist, anyway.
Wi Ji-hyeok spun the yarn at exhaustive length for Seok Du-myeong.
Finally, he wrapped up.
"Those so-called righteous luminaries shamelessly ignored the Clear Wind Sword Emperor's sacrifice and twisted the truth for their own glory."
Wi Ji-hyeok's face burned with righteous fury.
"That's why I can't stand the righteous sects. Hypocrites, all of them."
'Says the guy leading the Demon-Exterminating Corps under the Murim Alliance, raking in a fat stipend...'
'Clear Wind, this wind, that wind—what's it got to do with me? Just get on with it instead of blabbering nonsense.'
Seok Du-myeong squirmed inwardly, twisting like a pretzel.
"What do you think?"
Wi Ji-hyeok gazed at him expectantly, assuming agreement.
Catching the hint, Seok Du-myeong straightened up, feigning deep impression and outrage.
"The Clear Wind Sword Emperor's noble sacrifice moved me. To think such a shameless travesty occurred—it's infuriating."
"Clear Wind Sword Emperor, yes..."
'Screen Wind or Clear Wind, whatever... though Screen Wind does sound kinda lame.'
Seok Du-myeong readjusted his posture and cut in.
"So... why did you summon me?"
"Ah, right. Got carried away with the preamble. Sorry."
'Carried away? Way too long.'
"I called you to give you something."
'Now we're talking.'
Seok Du-myeong's face lit up.
The leader pulled two items from his bosom and set them on the table.
One was a worn booklet, like an old manual. The other, a ornate wooden box likely holding a pill.
"The Clear Wind Sword Manual and a True Name Pill."
He didn't know about the Clear Wind Sword Manual, but the True Name Pill was solid mid-grade medicine.
It boosted inner power—effects varied by person, but it could grant three to five years' worth, even more for some. A spirit pill through and through.
"The three forms the Alliance gave out look like patchwork from random manuals. Fakes of the Clear Wind Sword Manual flood the markets. Not the real thing, of course, but from what I've seen, this copy's the closest to authentic. I picked it up cheap on the street and kept it. You're a swordsman, so it might come in handy. One drawback: no inner cultivation method. Still, it'll help you."
'One drawback? A sword manual without an inner art's just fancy swordplay trash.'
To Seok Du-myeong, a peak saber expert like the leader had no use for sword manuals. Keeping it around to hand off like this cost him nothing.
Same with the pill: for someone with over twenty years of inner power, mid-grade meds were worthless.
No real loss.
"Thank you. But why give these to a nobody like me?"
"Call it atonement. Too many of our Corps brothers who've looked up to me have fallen. It weighs on me. Then I heard about you, and it got me thinking. I want you to make it to the war's end."
'If it weighs that much, give premium pills or a high-end manual with a proper inner art.'
Seok Du-myeong grumbled inwardly.
Still, it was a windfall. His mood soared.
The shabby manual was whatever, but a True Name Pill? Game-changer.
Hell, sell it on the market, and in this martial world full of pill fiends, it'd fetch at least a hundred silver taels.
A hundred taels wasn't chump change.
Dig all day and you'd be lucky to find a single copper coin. No way.
"I've kept you too long. Off you go."
Seok Du-myeong stood, bowed deeply in gratitude, pocketed the items, and headed out.
"Make sure you take the True Name Pill yourself."
'Old man's sharp...'
Seok Du-myeong had zero plans to swallow it—straight to the market.
Caught off-guard, he replied.
"Of course."
Then he bolted from the tent.
'Legend says the Clear Wind Sword Manual glows when it meets its fated owner. Hard to believe, but...'
Wi Ji-hyeok mused alone, then shook his head to dismiss the thought.
*
Seok Du-myeong returned to the barracks.
"Bro, how'd it go with the leader?"
Yeom-pal sat on his bunk, wiping down his saber with a dry cloth.
"Just handed me some ratty old sword manual."
Seok Du-myeong had no intention of mentioning the True Name Pill to him.
"A sword manual? That's huge, right? Leader's a peak master, after all."
'Huge my ass. Half-baked swordplay with no inner art—what's the point?'
Seok Du-myeong thought to himself.
"Really just the manual?"
Yeom-pal prodded suspiciously.
'Damn, this guy's got a nose like a bloodhound.'
But Seok Du-myeong shut it down.
"Yeah, just the manual—and a ton of useless yapping about some Clear Wind this or Screen Wind that."
"What a cheapskate. Leader of the Corps and all, should've tossed in a nice pill or something."
'Holy shit, nose like a dog.'
Still, Seok Du-myeong wasn't spilling about the pill.
"Yeah, total cheapskate..."
Seok Du-myeong trailed off, feeling the prick.
"By the way, rumor has it Wisdom Flower Jegal So-hye's a real goddess. You know me, bro—I go for the smart types. Perfect match for my tastes. I'd die happy just meeting her in a dream once."
Seok Du-myeong was quietly relieved at the subject change but played dumb.
"Yeom-pal, your wife's gonna hear."
Yeom-pal was younger but married with a daughter.
By his telling, he'd chased a knockout beauty—moon goddess material—and tied the knot after some hustle.
Hard to buy, looking at his mug... but that was his story.
"Sorry to the wife, but tonight I'm dreaming of some extramarital fun."
'Extramarital, my foot.'
Seok Du-myeong inwardly cursed Yeom-pal, cut off the pointless banter, and flopped onto his bunk.
It had been a long day.
Night deepened.
Exhausted, Seok Du-myeong patted the wooden box in his bosom for reassurance, grinned, and drifted off.
At that moment.
A pure white glow emanated brilliantly from the sword manual in his bosom, then slowly faded away.