ISS 59

Geomryeong was moving along a tributary of the Yangtze toward Namyung, the large city of Zhongjing.

The reason Geomryeong was headed to Namyung was simple: the Guh family’s ironworks—Goo Yeong-cheol’s main house—was located there.

Geomryeong crossed a small mountain called Yeongryeongsan that lay along the road to Namyung.

Yeongryeongsan was so small that calling it a mountain felt wrong; it was more like a tall hill densely covered with trees.

“A hill that’s not high—just right for a little climb…”

Geomryeong was about halfway up Yeongryeongsan when he paused mid-sentence, his gaze shifting elsewhere, and his steps changed.

With each step he took, the surroundings altered—so quickly that the naked eye could hardly follow.

He folded space.

This space-folding transported Geomryeong in an instant to where he intended to be.

A man in a black martial uniform with a mask, badly wounded, was under attack by several masked men in red martial uniforms.

He looked wounded enough to die at any moment.

He was one of the Milyeongdan’s assassin-team members who’d tried to flee from the red-clad masked men.

Cha-aaang!

A sword that shot toward the assassin’s neck was blocked.

Everyone looked at one another in disbelief.

Startled by Geomryeong’s sudden appearance, one of the red-clad masked men shouted instinctively, “Who are you?!”

Geomryeong, however, walked at a leisurely pace and spoke calmly.

“Wearing a mask means you’ve something to hide… and since both sides wear masks, what am I to do?”

Standing between the two parties, he looked left and right.

“Help him.”

The wounded assassin asked Geomryeong for help.

It was awkward to ask an outsider for help, but he had to—he would not survive in his current condition, so he reached out to Geomryeong.

The red-clad men were surprised by Geomryeong’s appearance but immediately attacked him together with the wounded assassin’s attackers.

If they killed everyone, that would solve the problem.

“No choice, then. If I’m to survive, first—”

Geomryeong moved, too.

The attacks from the red-clad men were fiercer than expected.

“Hmm…”

Not only were their inborn martial arts impressive, but they seemed to be specialists trained in Yeonsu-hapgyeok (a training method).

Rather than blocking or counterattacking immediately, Geomryeong first observed their patterns.

—If the enemy is within what you can handle, don’t immediately overpower him. Watch how he makes things difficult for you; study his martial art. Enlightenment is like that. Stop thinking you learn only from masters. There is something to learn even from novices and even from those who only talk.
—These were words from Cheon Nam-yeon.

When Cheon Nam-yeon, Goo Yeong-cheol, and Yak Bing taught Geomryeong, they explained not only the martial arts they knew but also the characteristics of Central Plains (Jungwon) martial arts, Western region martial arts, and Miao River styles.

Geomryeong had memorized those characteristics, so after briefly experiencing an opponent’s style, he could roughly tell what art they used.

Cha-aaang!

But the swordplay and Yeonsu-hapgyeok the masked men were using now were techniques the three masters hadn’t taught him.

‘They don’t seem like assassins,’ he thought.

It was too strong to be called a typical assassin blade style.

Geomryeong desperately parried their frenzied strikes, and watching him, the wounded assassin’s eyes briefly reflected despair.

From the way Geomryeong looked, it seemed he too might not survive. Yet the assassin didn’t realize that Geomryeong was deliberately matching their level.

There was only one reason Geomryeong matched their level: only then would they bring out their most lethal technique—Jeolmyeongjeolcho (the death-dealing finishing move).

When they push just a bit more and fail, that finishing move naturally comes out.

‘Could this be a martial art that appeared when the old man and old woman went into hiding?’ Geomryeong became interested in their art.

—Is martial art only in the Central Plains? Martial arts exist wherever people live. —
—Through history, many forces have eyed the Central Plains. —
The three had said things like that.

‘Maybe it’s a martial art from somewhere else…’

The masked men, failing to get their way, attacked even more fiercely. As their strikes intensified, they revealed more of their real skill, and Geomryeong barely avoided them.

“You dodge like a rat,” one sneered.

“You say that to everyone you meet,” another added.

The masked men tried to provoke Geomryeong, but he didn’t take the bait.

“Enough of the show.”

When even that failed, they used their planned finishing move, just as Geomryeong had thought.

Chuu-chuu-chuu!

Their blades radiated killing qi.

“Die!”

Swords of energy rose from all directions, pressing in. A faint smile formed on Geomryeong’s lips just as his sword changed.

From his wrist the motion began; the sword he held traced a circle, and that motion dispelled the pressuring sword qi.

Pwoooom, pwoooom…

The sword qi scattered outward in all directions, cutting through dirt and trees as it dissipated.

“Huh!”

Their Jeolmyeongjeolcho failed and produced only a gust of wind.

“Nice view,” Geomryeong said.

After dispelling their sword qi, he launched straight at the masked men. His switch from defense to offense was terrifying.

“Arrgh!”

There was no fixed form in Geomryeong’s swordplay. The blade moved as his heart moved.

Because the sword followed the mind, people called this sword art simi geom—the mind-intent sword.

With no fixed patterns, the red-clad masked men didn’t know how to respond.

“Argh!”

In the meantime, Geomryeong’s blade sliced through the masked men’s bodies, and as he turned the attack around, they couldn’t even raise their swords properly and fell to the ground.

Watching them fall, spattered with blood, the wounded assassin felt relief—and for the first time believed he might complete his mission.

“You bastard!”

Before he knew it, one of the masked men’s comrades who still stood alone shouted and lunged at Geomryeong with a horizontal slash—an attack that showed he no longer cared about his life.

It was a last-ditch move meant to take the enemy with him, a dounggwi-eojin (mutual destruction) technique chosen out of desperation at Geomryeong’s sudden change in offense.

At that instant Geomryeong sheathed his sword rather than swinging it.

“Danger…”

The wounded assassin opened his mouth to speak and stopped, stunned.

Papatapatataaa!

The body of the man who’d attacked with the mutual-destruction move exploded into pieces, scattering into the air. He was the last—the rest of the red-clad men had fallen.

After felling them all, Geomryeong approached the wounded assassin.

The assassin adjusted his position to be a little more comfortable as Geomryeong neared.

“You know you won’t survive this, don’t you?”

He knew—everyone in his situation would.

“Yes.”

“You came to ask for help, so you must have something to tell me.”

He was badly wounded and not expected to make it. Since he had asked for help, there must be something he wanted to say.

“I’m Makya, chief of the assassin team of the Milyeongdan, part of the Sado-maeng.” he said without hiding anything—he thought a supplicant had the right to be frank.

“Go on.”

“Hiding among the Sado-maeng were people who learned ma-gong (demonic arts). We hunted them down and killed them.”

He explained plainly.

“But somehow they knew and attacked us. Though we had considerable martial skill, we were no match for them. At the cost of our comrades….”

Geomryeong squinted as he listened.

The scent of conspiracy was thick.

“So you’re saying those bastards are the ones who spread ma-gong?”

“Seems so. Otherwise they wouldn’t have had reason to kill us.”

“Conspiracy… interesting. What would you like me to tell Sado-maeng?”

“Tell them those guys are watching everything of ours—our hides, our people…”

Geomryeong nodded.

“I’ll finish what I’m doing first, then I’ll relay your message to Sado-maeng.”

“Thank you.”

With those words, the assassin drew his last breath.

Geomryeong rose from where he sat and lifted his head.

The sky above was an indifferent blue, as if it knew nothing of the bloodshed about to come.

“Maybe it’s not only the fiends that crossed the Gobi Desert thirty years ago…”

In the Sado-maeng’s main hall, two men and a woman were assembled.

“Contact’s been cut?” asked Hyun Woo-hee, the leader of the Milyeongdan, her long hair flowing and her full figure bowed carefully before the Sahoang (the alliance leader) Hyeok Segi.

Her décolletage was exposed, but neither Hyeok Segi nor Hyun seemed to care.

“Do you mean they were struck by fiends?” Hyeok Segi asked.

“We don’t know that. But one thing’s clear: they weren’t taken out by some hidden practitioners of ma-gong lightly. It wasn’t that level,” Sama Gunseong said.

Sama bowed his head and spoke.

“It’s my mistake.”

“Mistake of the garrison?” Hyun asked.

“If the fiends distributed ma-gong scrolls, they likely also tracked the locations of those who learned them. I didn’t consider that.”

Hyeok Segi nodded as if that made sense.

“How many are missing?”

“All members of the assassin team involved in this operation.”

Raising and training assassin squads costs enormous time and money; this was a heavy loss.

“Then whoever’s hiding is at least stronger than the assassin team. What’s the overall level of the assassin team?”

“First-class. They have the ability to assassinate high first-class masters.”

“That’s a significant loss.”

He spoke calmly but with real worry in his voice.

“We won’t let them keep learning ma-gong freely.”

“They’ll likely move the training locations once this news spreads.”

Sama continued.

“When those who practice ma-gong realize they’ve been deceived, it’ll already be too late. And their daggers will be turned straight at us.”

That was only natural.

“We should find their hideouts as quickly as possible.”

“There aren’t many places in the Central Plains where a thousand people could secretly learn ma-gong.”

“Even so, a thousand different places? Searching a single mountain thoroughly would take months. Thinking like that, it could take years—and by then it would be too late.”

“If one person searches, yes. But if a thousand search at once, it’ll take only a few months.”

“And if they die?”

“Then we concentrate our search there.”

It was the crude but surest method: find the hideouts by sacrificing a few.

“Hmm…”

“There’s no need to use our children directly.”

While Hyeok Segi considered, Sama spoke again.

“Then bring in the Haomilmun and ronin; hire them to search the mountains. They’ll flush out those hiding places.”

Hearing Sama’s plan, the two nodded in agreement.

“A good plan… but it’ll cost a fortune.”

“We’ll recoup it later with interest as profit.”

“Milyeongdan leader!”
“Yes, my lord!”

“Proceed with the operation as the garrison ordered. And, just in case, assign an extra person to follow anyone who leaves.”

Hyun Woo-hee bowed, understanding exactly what Hyeok Segi meant.

“This mistake will not happen again.”