ISS 45

The assassins who had been fighting the Sword Spirit recoiled at that sight.

Jeok Hwamyeong remembered the words his master had once said when he looked at the Sword Spirit just now.

“Hwamyeong, do you think a sword technique can be faster than sound? Or do you think it can’t?”

“No matter how fast a sword technique is, how could it be faster than sound?”

“Right — as long as you’re human, no matter how quickly you swing a sword it won’t be faster than sound. I used to think the same, until I met him.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Famous Demon-Slayer Gu Yeong-cheol. I only saw him from a distance so his figure was blurred, but then I saw what a sword faster than sound looked like.”

“You mean there really is a sword faster than sound?”

“Ghost Demon-Slayer Gu Yeong-cheol — he practiced a sword faster than sound and proved it to many people.”

Jeok Hwamyeong thought the sword technique the Sword Spirit was using might be that very art.

As he suspected, the legendary swift blade of Ghost Demon-Slayer Gu Yeong-cheol, who had vanished fifty years ago, had shown itself now. Or rather, it was a sword technique even faster than Gu Yeong-cheol’s.

Where Gu Yeong-cheol’s swift blade produced the alternating sounds of a sword sliding out of—or slipping into—the scabbard, the Sword Spirit didn’t even make the sound of the sword coming out of its scabbard.

“Could it be that Sword Spirit Sojae is a disciple of Ghost Demon-Slayer Gu Yeong-cheol…?”

In the past, the Sword Spirit had once told him that he was a disciple of Godokmaya, Ghost Demon-Slayer, and Jeonmo. Back then it had sounded absurd and Jeok Hwamyeong had not believed it — but seeing the current form made him believe a little.

When the Sword Spirit stopped walking, all the assassins in the inn had been cut down; the guesthouse had become a sea of blood.

“It’d be best to move away quickly,” one of them muttered.

“One person still remains,” another said.

The Sword Spirit spoke and looked toward one spot.

“Will you reveal yourself willingly? Or must I cut both your legs off before you show yourself?”

The inn fell silent.

“You must be mistaken if you think you don’t know where I’m hiding…”

The Sword Spirit turned and looked in the direction again.

There was a man standing there — the middle-aged man who had appeared at Nokmyeong Mountain.

He was Cheon Sa Yu-akgun, who had been hired by Cheonmyeong Manor to follow the Sword Spirit.

“How did you know?” the man asked — how did the Sword Spirit see through his ghost-transformation art?

“Because I’m familiar with it.”

The Sword Spirit wasn’t the type to be polite even to those who threatened his life.

“But you’re younger than I expected… I heard you were sixty,” Yu-akgun narrowed his eyes.

“Familiar. Younger than I heard. Sixty. What do those words mean?” the Sword Spirit asked again.

“There was an old ghost who, if he needed help during his life in the martial world, would be sought; if not, he was left alone. But you don’t seem to be that man.”

“Old ghost?”

Jeok Hwamyeong recognized who the Sword Spirit meant by “old ghost.” He’d heard the same words many times before and didn’t believe them at the time, but he had heard them repeatedly.

“You can’t be referring to Ghost Demon-Slayer Gu Yeong-cheol, are you?”

“Why not? The ghost-transformation art you use is precisely that old ghost’s.”

Yu-akgun’s body trembled slightly.

“I can’t believe it,” he said.

Jeok Hwamyeong was confused; he didn’t quite follow how the conversation had turned. He didn’t know who the opponent before him truly was, but he felt certain the man was no minor.

“Whether you believe it or not is your choice. But first I’ll ask one thing: what’s your relationship with Cheon Sa Yu-akgun?”

When Yu-akgun’s name was spoken, Jeok Hwamyeong looked between the Sword Spirit and Yu-akgun in surprise.

Yu-akgun eyed the Sword Spirit suspiciously.

At the sight of this young man who knew Gu Yeong-cheol, knew the ghost-transformation art, and also knew Cheon Sa Yu-akgun, the words his master had once told him came back to Jeok Hwamyeong’s mind.

“When that person comes, you will need to serve him closely.”

“For life?”

“Yes. That is how you repay the favor of my nurturing and teaching of martial arts.”

“What if I don’t?”

“That would be your choice. But when you meet him, you’ll change your mind.”

Those had been his master’s words. Twenty years had passed since, and it seemed the person his master spoke of had come. The problem, however, was that it wasn’t that person but that person’s disciple — a blue-faced youngster — whom he now had to serve.

“Again — and this is the last question: what is your relationship with Cheon Sa Yu-akgun?”

A formidable aura poured out from the Sword Spirit, overwhelming all present.

The force pressed even Jeok Hwamyeong beside him down.

“I am Yu-akgun.”

Yu-akgun had been forced to bow unconsciously beneath the Sword Spirit’s presence.

“I was told you were older than me.”

“My master gave me the same name. He also planned to pass the name Yu-akgun down to the child who would become my future disciple, and he waited for that person.” The Sword Spirit could tell how deep the loyalty of the previous Yu-akgun had been.

Ghost Demon-Slayer Gu Yeong-cheol had taught him a few small tricks as pastimes, but the man’s lifelong gratitude — a debt the previous Yu-akgun intended to repay across generations — was admirable.

“The righteous sect may call us all villains together, but even among the heterodox there is loyalty.”

That seemed to be the case.

“For the sake of your master’s loyalty, I’ll forgive you this once. But next time you follow me, you’ll need to risk your life.”

Yu-akgun trembled faintly.

“Really, Soju?”

Rather than answering Yu-akgun, the Sword Spirit addressed Jeok Hwamyeong.

“Brother! Let’s go.”

Jeok Hwamyeong looked bewildered, still unsure what was happening.

“All right,” he muttered.

Yu-akgun stood dazed, watching the two leave the guesthouse. As if regaining his senses, he rushed out after them.

“Soju! How can you leave me behind?” he cried.

The three had left the guesthouse and were walking on a quiet road past the market square, where only the occasional passerby disturbed the stillness.

Houses with yard walls high enough to reach a person’s shoulders lined both sides of the road; one could often glimpse into the yards.

“Soju! But why are you going to Central Capital?” Yu-akgun, calling the Sword Spirit “little master,” followed closely behind, and Jeok Hwamyeong shook his head.

The famed Cheon Sa Yu-akgun was known in the martial world as a consummate expert and a schemer, but Jeok Hwamyeong had never expected him to be this chatty.

“I told you I’m going to deliver a message — how many times do I have to say it?”

“Well… I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“It’s a personal matter. You needn’t be so curious.”

The Sword Spirit spoke more politely to Yu-akgun. Since Yu-akgun called him “Soju” (small master), lowering his tone was natural — it felt slightly awkward to Jeok Hwamyeong, though.

Yu-akgun and Jeok Hwamyeong had already decided to speak casually to one another, but they treated the Sword Spirit differently. Yu-akgun called him “Soju,” Jeok Hwamyeong had befriended Yu-akgun, and the Sword Spirit addressed Jeok Hwamyeong as “hyung” (older brother).

“The genealogy’s all messed up,” Jeok Hwamyeong thought.

“Hey, Soju. I have another question…”

Yu-akgun never stopped babbling.

“What else are you so curious about?”

“How old is Soju? You look about eighteen at most.”

“I’m of age; that’s what you can assume.”

“You look youthful, Soju! Your skin is lovely… any secret to that?”

People all have their illusions. Today onward, Jeok Hwamyeong’s entire impression of Cheon Sa Yu-akgun changed.

“Do three cycles of transmogrification and your skin will be this fine. If you want a beautiful face and skin, train hard in martial arts.”

“You did transmogrification three times? Oh come on — who are you, a moth? People don’t transmogrify three times.”

The Sword Spirit said to Yu-akgun, “Have you tried transmogrification?”

“Not yet, Soju!”

“Then don’t talk about it!”

“Hohoho!”

Jeok Hwamyeong couldn’t help laughing at the Sword Spirit’s curt remark. Yu-akgun tried to suppress a chuckle but eventually burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh like that in front of people,” the Sword Spirit scolded.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it… By the way, you’re nothing like the rumors I heard.”

Jeok Hwamyeong apologized to Yu-akgun and asked, “Like what?”

“Your personality. The rumors in the martial world about you are…”

“Oh, that’s my master’s temperament. I’m a little different.”

Because the name and title were passed down through master and disciple, such misunderstandings were understandable.

“Is that so?”

“Of course.”

Yu-akgun dismissed it as nothing important, then asked the Sword Spirit again.

“Soju, why did Cheonmyeong Manor hire someone to kill you?”

“Because I killed Hyun Jin-myung, the second son of Cheonmyeong Manor.”

“Is that true?”

Yu-akgun still seemed unaware of that truth.

“Hyun Jin-myung had learned demonic arts, I was at the scene, and he died by my hand.”

“Why would he learn demonic arts?”

“I don’t know that either.”

The Sword Spirit contemplated whether to send Yu-akgun away.

“They probably were desperate enough to try to kill you. How dare they try to kill Soju… you bastards!” Yu-akgun wanted to charge off like a vengeful warrior, and the Sword Spirit snorted.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. Just shut your mouth. Don’t speak to me unless I ask you a question.”

“Soju, that’s harsh.”

“Either speak less…”

“I’ll try to speak less.”

Jeok Hwamyeong thought, from the flow of their conversation, that things would hardly be dull from now on.

They walked on until the Sword Spirit suddenly stopped.

“Why did you stop?”

“Do you know if Cheonmyeong Manor hired anyone else, besides you, to have me killed?”

“As far as I heard, they placed contracts in the Haemil Stream of Gangseo Province and the Naengga Valley of Bokgeon Province. The people in the guesthouse were assassins from Haemil Stream.”

“And those?” the Sword Spirit asked, pointing.

They looked but there was nothing visible.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Over there,” the Sword Spirit snapped his fingers.

Like beams of light, his qi shot through the air and pierced the wall of the house on the right.

“Aagh!”

At the cry, reflexively Yu-akgun moved toward where the scream had come from.

A man had been killed with a hole in his head.

“They’re assassins from Naengga Valley, Soju!” Yu-akgun said.

The Naengga Valley assassins had moved again to kill the Sword Spirit. Whether from misinformation or accurate information, a contract had been placed and had to be fulfilled.

Being of the heterodox, the Sword Spirit knew many of the heterodox warriors well.

‘I may not know everything, but this is useful.’