The True Hangzhou Ghost
It happened in an instant.
He had been continuing his fights against the Black Path with no real tension yet, all in search of stronger fakes claiming the name of the Hangzhou Ghost.
Today was the day he meant to smash a gambling den where a self-proclaimed Hangzhou Ghost had nested—a man who practiced vicious usury and murdered whenever things went wrong.
Whoosh—!
Just as Cheon Gang, growing more confident by the day, swung his iron staff with full force—
Click.
Gwak Yeon suddenly felt it.
The sensation against the tip of his thumb as he pushed the sword hilt free was subtly different from before.
Hmm?
At the same time, he recalled the words the blacksmith Ha Mu-won had tossed out almost casually before the merchant caravan departed.
— How did it feel when you drew the sword from its scabbard?
Come to think of it—
The sensation of drawing this sword with his vampire senses fully extended versus without them had never been properly sorted out in his mind.
Moments like now, when he left the small fry entirely to Cheon Gang and idly jostled the hilt out of mild boredom, had not been all that frequent.
Click.
Gwak Yeon slid the half-span of exposed blade back into the scabbard, then pushed it free again with his thumb.
At the edge of his heightened vampire senses—
Something… is different!
Something caught, ever so faintly.
To the naked eye the blade and the scabbard that housed it were flawlessly smooth. Yet a tiny friction, a hairline catch between them, registered at last against the delicate, razor-sharp touch of the hand that gripped the sword.
— Someday you’ll find the angle where it gains a heaviness like an extra bean’s weight. By then, tilting your upper body like this will help as well.
Only now did Gwak Yeon truly grasp Ha Mu-won’s words.
After that, everything happened in a flash.
The flow continued as if it had always been natural.
He widened his stance, planting both feet firmly.
— Roughly the drawing stance used by the swift swordsmen of the Jeomchang Sect—
He closed both eyes.
Releasing the tension from his body, he shifted his upper body slightly, naturally matching the angle of the scabbard at his waist, then made the finest adjustments to the orientation of the sword housed within.
Click, click.
Only a vampire’s body could feel it—the precisely tuned angle where the friction between blade and scabbard caught with exquisite perfection. Gwak Yeon found it.
“Hup!”
In that instant he poured inner energy into a lightning-fast draw!
Shhk, whoooosh—!
A sharp wave of qi sprayed outward.
A diagonal shockwave streaked obliquely upward over the great gate Cheon Gang had just been battering.
Crack!
The massive wooden doors on either side split apart, though it was impossible to tell whether the staff or that sword-wind was responsible.
Blink.
Cheon Gang, who had been in the lead, blinked in surprise.
“You bastards, do you even know where you are?!”
“Kill them!”
“It’s these guys!”
“We’ll make you regret this!”
“Take them alive!”
On a dark moonlit night.
The gambling den stood at the dead end of an alley.
Enemies began pouring out from beyond it, and Cheon Gang quickly recovered his wits and swung his iron staff toward them. Beside him—
“I’m going first.”
“Young Master!”
Gwak Yeon launched himself forward in a great leap, taking the lead.
He vaulted over the shattered remnants of the wooden gate, stepping on the shoulders and heads of the Black Path thugs who came flooding out with blades drawn, and landed squarely in the center of the courtyard.
In that instant he turned his head slightly to the side.
A throwing knife whistled past his cheek.
Pfft.
It had been loosed by a Black Path man perched on the soaring roof of a pavilion between the walls.
That was only the beginning.
Footsteps thundered up the underground stairs of the gambling den, and more enemies poured out from behind the storehouses.
“Kill them—!”
At a glance, the ones surrounding Gwak Yeon carried blades of better than average quality. Their martial presence looked superior to the ones who had encircled Cheon Gang near the broken gate. From their hands, killing techniques poured forth.
Thump!
Gwak Yeon’s heart pounded as he dodged the blades raining in from every direction and scattered sword strikes all around him.
Mahongbang.
It was not merely that the Black Path group here was considerably stronger than the ones he had killed recently.
Of course not.
The real reason a smile rose to Gwak Yeon’s face was that he had finally uncovered the hidden trick of this sword.
“You son of a bitch!”
He lightly parried a blade rushing in from the side and slipped inside the man’s guard.
In a flash he reversed his grip and slashed upward, carving through the man’s body; then he spun, swinging the scabbard in his other hand as well to complete a great revolving cut.
Clang-clang-clang!
He swept aside the countless blades flying at his entire body in a single motion.
Then, as if falling, he spun his whole body at high speed and swung sword and scabbard once more; several Black Path men had their chests and throats opened.
Thud, thud! Thud!
The fallen clutched at their bleeding wounds and screamed, but that was of no importance.
Gwak Yeon completed a light full turn.
He spread his stance wide.
Tap.
He had already reversed his grip and brought the scabbard to his waist; for a moment it looked as though he were casually sheathing the sword held in his right hand again—
Shhk, whoooosh————!
In the next instant came a lightning draw, and a sword-wind shot far into the distance.
This is the feeling!
A scream rose from the pavilion roof above.
The Black Path man who had been preparing to throw another knife at Gwak Yeon clutched his face and tumbled from the roof.
— Anyway, even if they look ordinary, both the sword and the scabbard are extraordinary pieces. Try using them at all sorts of angles. It’s a divine weapon that will let you contend even with opponents three levels above you.
Recalling Ha Mu-won’s words again, a smile spread across Gwak Yeon’s lips.
“What are you waiting for? Kill them all!”
“Don’t be afraid! The Branch Leader will be here soon!”
“Uwaaaaaah!”
He cut, stabbed, smashed, and sent them flying.
The fine patterns engraved on the surfaces of sword and scabbard.
Shockwaves created through that friction.
Of course, to produce not mere wind but meaningful impact like just now, one had to balance not only angle and posture but also the inner energy distributed between blade and scabbard.
It really is a divine weapon!
And that was not all.
With every clash, the enemies’ blades were being damaged.
Their weapons, which could not even begin to compare with the great sabers of the Hubei Pang Family, were being minutely ruined every time they scraped and collided with this sword.
Definitely…!
He was about to reaffirm the craftsman’s claim that it had been forged of cloud iron when—
Suddenly.
A voice thick with profound inner energy resounded through the air.
“Enough.”
The moment the word was heard, the blood-soaked Black Path men rolled and scrambled for cover to the left and right of the pavilion.
Those who had been floundering around Gwak Yeon, as well as the ones fighting Cheon Gang near the shattered gate, all dove under the nearby eaves.
Step.
From the rear appeared a middle-aged man with disheveled hair.
He looked to be the leader of this Mahongbang.
His chest, visible through a carelessly open front, was covered in old sword scars; in the hand opposite the one gripping his blade he held a wine bottle.
He reeked of alcohol, yet the eyes half-hidden by his bangs were full of sharp light—he clearly possessed considerable experience.
“Are you… Jang Po?”
“Ha.”
Instead of answering Gwak Yeon’s question, the Mahongbang leader leisurely tipped the bottle back.
Gulp, gulp.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; the words that followed were somewhat disappointing.
“Jang Po, you say. You mean that ordinary fellow who hasn’t met me yet?”
“Where can I find him?”
“That bastard doesn’t run any establishments. He’s got the arrogant attitude that he can take whatever he wants whenever he wants.”
“A rare Hangzhou Ghost these days.”
“Hangzhou Ghost, Hangzhou Ghost, Hangzhou Ghost. Stop slapping that name on just anyone, will you?”
“Why?”
“In the end, the Hangzhou Ghost of this underworld is—”
He dragged the words out, then suddenly hurled the wine bottle.
At the same time as he shot the bottle, charged with inner energy, in a straight line—
He stamped the ground hard enough to raise a cloud of dust; the tip of his sword sliced through the air and shot toward Gwak Yeon in an instant.
Using the dust to obscure vision and aim for an opening.
It was a fairly good strategy, but—
“Once only I remai— Ghk!”
Whoosh!
The man’s body, flying like an arrow, flinched in midair for a split second under the whistle of Gwak Yeon’s strange ability.
In that instant Gwak Yeon had already slipped past him; the blade he swung was stained with the man’s blood.
The man collapsed to the ground just like that.
On one knee, both hands clutching his throat, crimson blood welled and gushed between his fingers.
“Wh… what—?”
Thud.
And so he met an untimely, violent death.
“………!”
“………!”
“………!”
“Another wasted trip today.”
Gwak Yeon muttered toward the Black Path men who were beginning to stir in shock, clearly never having imagined their leader would die so meaninglessly.
He spun the bloodied sword lightly, shaking off the gore; a low murmur slipped from his lips.
“Just die, all of you.”
“U-uwaaaah—!”
.
.
.
Cheon Gang’s eyes grew wider and wider.
Beneath the moonlit night.
Among the human figures that had erupted all across this vast courtyard—large enough to be a small manor—a wave was surging.
Young Master Gwak… to that extent…?!
It was the work of Gwak Yeon as he faced the Black Path group that had lost its leader—a blood-soaked ghost.
Even the fight I saw last time… that wasn’t everything?!
No.
This was less a fight than a massacre.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—!
Cheon Gang himself was swinging his iron staff, shattering the bodies of the Black Path men who came pouring at him, but it felt more like he was merely “cleaning up” those trying to flee from Gwak Yeon.
Terror filled their eyes.
These were men whose names carried weight even among the Black Path, let alone ordinary civilians—yet almost none of them could escape the wave Gwak Yeon was creating.
Yes.
A wave of the sword that skillfully received the countless weapons raining toward him and herded the men wherever he wished.
Thump!
Flashing eyes, sparks leaping between clashing blades under the moonlight, blood spraying in every direction, the metallic clang of weapons colliding, and the curses and screams that seemed ready to tear throats—
“Ghk, gyaaaaah!”
“Everyone grab him at once! Kill him!”
“Huuurk!”
“S-shit!”
“Die! Just die already!”
“It’s a monster!”
The painter who was rendering this unreal hellscape against the wicked was not the Gwak Yeon Cheon Gang had known.
A demon that even the wicked feared.
Wherever that gaze fell, the Black Path formation collapsed; with every gesture of hand and foot, limbs were mercilessly broken. Those who fled toward Cheon Gang himself already had some part of them ruined.
And even in the midst of it all—
The radiant laugh that blood-soaked Gwak Yeon unleashed made the Black Path men who tried to run tremble like aspen leaves.
Crunch—!
Cheon Gang brought down a Black Path man who came fleeing toward him in terror.
Even so—
His heart pounded at the sight of the hungry-ghost hell unfolding before his eyes.
Thump!
An attitude more sincere about eradicating evil than expected?
A resolve to train even harder?
All of that was good, but…
Gulp.
…looking at Gwak Yeon now, one word rose immediately to mind.
“Kraaagh!”
“S-spare me!”
“It’s a ghost!”
“H-Hangzhou Ghost!”
“Kehek!”
“Please spare me!”
“S-shit! It’s the real Hangzhou Ghost!”
Hangzhou Ghost.
The figure before them now was, by anyone’s measure, the “true” ghost of Hangzhou from the legends.
Chomp, chomp.
A massive man sat and busily worked both arms.
Gazing at that broad back—
“Even the way you eat is full of dignity!”
A man in pure white cotton robes and a scholar’s cap stood behind him, pouring out praise without pause.
“As expected! The only hero who can truly be called the Hangzhou Ghost is Lord Jang Po!”
“Umm! I don’t like you!”
“Y-yes?! What?!”
“Uumm! Uuuumm! Meat… eat—!”
“Ah.”
Even from behind, the booming voice hammered into his ears; the man in the scholar’s cap frowned slightly as he answered.
“I apologize for interrupting your meal! I only meant to say I would step out for a short while!”
“Uumm! Why!”
“There is someone who says he wishes to help Lord Jang Po.”
“Don’t like it!”
“Ah.”
At the firm reply of the man called Jang Po, the scholar-dressed man’s brow furrowed hard.
Damn it.
He swallowed the words “ignorant brute” with effort.
Chomp, chomp.
Toward Jang Po, who was inhaling food as if possessed by a starving ghost, the man in the scholar’s cap forced a smile and spoke again.
“Th-this time it truly is someone trustworthy! I, Yuk So-wan, stake my neck on it! He is not a bad person, so please rest easy and trust me!”
“Umm, uuumm! Uuuumm!”
There was no reply, but he could not force the issue.
This man was a monster among monsters.
Even in the back alleys of Hangzhou, where new Black Path groups were springing up everywhere, he was the strongest—and yet he had built no independent force of his own. A true treasure.
Jang Po
If he so wished, he could absorb every business run by those who falsely claimed the name of Hangzhou Ghost within three days. That was the answer of a genuine monster.
“……Who is it?”
“I do not yet know the name.”
A sigh of relief escaped the man; anticipation colored the smile on his lips.
“He is known by the alias Lord Goechok.”
“Uumm!”