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chapter 21
At the Sword Spirit’s words, everyone fell silent.
He had merely moved his hand and grabbed a shoulder. That was all. It was such a simple act it felt embarrassing to even call it martial arts.
“Isn’t it possible that it was the fellow’s sorcery that kept me from moving?”
Yi Dogun argued back stubbornly.
“I’ll show you again.”
Twice, three times, four times…
No matter how many times he tried, the result was the same.
Yi Jemin rose to his feet and walked over to Yi Dogun.
Smack!
A sharp sound rang out, and Yi Dogun lost his balance, crashing to the floor.
It happened in an instant.
Yi Jemin’s face flushed bright red, a mixture of anger, shame, and apology clouding his features.
“Father!”
“Return to your room immediately. We’ll discuss your behavior later.”
Yi Jemin then turned toward the Sword Spirit and cupped his fists in a respectful bow.
For a senior of the martial world to bow in such a way to a junior was an exceptional act.
“My apologies. My son has committed a grave discourtesy toward you. This all stems from my lack of virtue in raising him poorly. I ask that, for my sake, you grant him your forgiveness.”
A great hero!
Many are called heroes, but few truly deserve the title.
Yi Jemin, Patriarch of the Shinchang clan, was not only one of the hundred greatest masters of the martial world but also a man worthy of being called a great hero.
The Sword Spirit, in turn, returned the bow with courtesy.
“Forgiveness is unnecessary. What just occurred was merely the difference between knowing and not knowing.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
The tension stirred up by Yi Dogun’s challenge subsided with Yi Jemin’s apology.
‘Young Lord Sword Spirit must truly be formidable in martial arts.’
Though Yi Aryeong was weaker than her brothers, she too was a daughter of a martial family.
To her, still in training, the Sword Spirit appeared utterly flawless.
“This gathering has become disorderly. Dogi, see to it that you accompany our guests and clear up today’s misunderstanding.”
“Yes, Father.”
Yi Dogi led Jeok Hwamyeong and the Sword Spirit out of the hall, and Yi Jemin’s wife, Byeok Hyein, along with Yi Aryeong, followed suit after gauging the mood.
Only Yi Dochun and Yi Jemin remained.
“Dochun, how could you fail to rein in your younger brother?”
The blame now fell upon the eldest son.
“My apologies, Father!”
“From now on, don’t leave him to the servants. You must personally watch over Dogun and guide his training.”
“Yes, Father. But… there is something.”
Yi Dochun hesitated.
“What is it?”
“About the method that man, Sword Spirit, used.”
“Yes?”
“Are we certain it wasn’t sorcery? It didn’t seem so to me, yet even Dogun, who isn’t untrained, couldn’t evade such a slow-moving hand.”
Yi Jemin nodded.
“It was less sorcery and more… intimidation, or pressure.”
“Intimidation?”
“Every person has an aura. Like the innate dignity of royalty…”
Listening, Yi Dochun nodded in understanding.
“This is not a matter of martial skill, but something entirely separate.”
“Still, isn’t it odd to be unable to avoid it at all?”
“The hand carried no killing intent. If it had, Dogun would have sensed danger and avoided it.”
Yi Dochun conceded that this made sense.
“Then Young Lord Sword Spirit’s background must be extraordinary.”
“Indeed. Such presence is born of bloodline. Being raised under the care of many elders suggests he comes from high nobility. The lack of martial training marks only that he is the child of an exalted household. Therefore…”
From just a few exchanges with Sword Spirit, Yi Jemin had already formed his own suspicions.
“While he remains in our household, you must ensure that Dogun causes him no further offense.”
“Yes, Father. Dogun too will surely have learned something from this.”
“I hope so.”
Crash!
Yi Dogun stormed into his room and began venting his rage on the furniture, leaving it in shambles.
“What did I do wrong? He used sorcery—so why am I the one blamed?! Damn it!”
Thud!
He toppled more furniture, venting his frustration through brute strength.
Outside, the servants stood nervously.
Once the young master’s temper cooled, they would have to enter and clean the mess.
“Even Father—how could he take his side instead of mine?!”
Judging from the sounds inside, it seemed it would take a while before his fury subsided.
At that moment, a figure appeared in the corridor—none other than Hyun Jinmyeong, the second son of Cheonmyeong Manor.
When the servants moved to announce his arrival, he stopped them and simply listened to Yi Dogun’s outburst.
A faint smile crept onto Hyun Jinmyeong’s lips, unseen by the servants.
Though Shinchang clan and Cheonmyeong Manor both led the orthodox sects of Guangdong, locals regarded Shinchang slightly more highly.
Outwardly they were friendly, but beneath the surface lingered rivalry.
“Why am I always the one blamed?!”
Crash! Bang!
As the destruction continued inside, Hyun Jinmyeong quietly instructed the servants.
“Announce me.”
“Yes, sir.”
A servant stepped forward and called out:
“Young Master Dogun! Young Master Hyun Jinmyeong of Cheonmyeong Manor is here to see you.”
Harsh breathing was heard within—Dogun calming himself. Moments later, the door opened and he emerged.
Surprisingly, his clothing was neat despite the chaos.
“You lot, clean the room. You—come, let’s drink.”
“Drink? At this hour?”
“What matter if it’s morning or night? If I don’t vent this frustration, I’ll go mad. Come.”
Dogun led Jinmyeong out.
The two sat in a tavern, Dogun pouring drink after drink into himself while Jinmyeong merely watched.
“How can Father believe an outsider’s words over his own son’s?”
“Perhaps you’re mistaken? Surely the Patriarch can tell sorcery from truth.”
“He used sorcery! Otherwise, do you think I’m such a fool that I couldn’t dodge such a clumsy move?”
He downed another cup in one gulp, face clouded with injustice.
“But if even your father couldn’t detect it, doesn’t that mean the fellow surpasses him in skill?”
Jinmyeong refilled his cup smoothly.
“Impossible.”
“I think so too. Still, perhaps your father was right—or maybe the fellow used some strange trick.”
“Strange trick?”
“Yes. Not sorcery per se. Look at him—doesn’t he look more like a delicate woman than a martial man?”
“That’s true.”
Dogun agreed at once.
“Then surely he used formations.”
“Formations? But we didn’t see him set one up.”
“A simple one could be laid in an instant. He may be deeply versed in them. Think about it.”
As Dogun considered, the idea grew convincing.
“Yes, before he made his move…”
Once the thought took root, it felt like fact.
He drained another cup and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“Next time I won’t fall for it. I’ll find a way to turn the tables on him.”
“Good. Think about how to repay the humiliation.”
“Yes. If he used formations, then…”
“Is it true?”
The branch leader of the Beggar’s Sect in Hong Kong, Gaegolge, rushed to Guangzhou to report to Liu Dong, the drunken-sword branch master there.
“It’s confirmed at Foshan Fortress.”
The news was shocking—the complete massacre of Foshan Fortress.
Though it was merely a bandit stronghold of the Green Forest and no great masters resided there, it was still led by Go Byeok-do, a formidable master, and held over a hundred lesser bandits.
Yet all of them had been wiped out silently, left as food for crows and wild beasts.
“To annihilate over a hundred men…”
The report was no ordinary matter.
Foshan Fortress was one of the twenty-four strongholds of the Green Forest, managing bandits across Guangdong. Its destruction would not go unanswered.
Uproar in Guangdong was inevitable.
“But why were you at Foshan Fortress?”
If the Beggar’s Sect were implicated, it would spell endless trouble.
“In truth, because of the Wangak bandits…”
He explained everything that had happened in Hong Kong and why he had gone to Foshan.
“Then you’re saying Moonshadow Immortal, Leng Yeseol, wasn’t responsible?”
“No. She took Jin Seol’s daughter back to the Moonshadow Sect. I believe this was the same hand that annihilated Wangak Fortress.”
If not Leng Yeseol, that seemed highly likely.
“Black Tiger Gang, Wangak Fortress, and now Foshan Fortress… all had one thing in common—they preyed on others’ property.”
Their eyes met.
“Could it be some naive newcomer to the martial world?”
“Unlikely. Do you think a greenhorn could defeat Go Byeok-do, a peak master?”
“No. Among hundreds of fighters, only a handful could even stand against him.”
“Exactly. More likely than some righteous youth—it may be a Demonic Human.”
At that, Liu Dong stopped mid-sentence.
The two men stared at each other.
A Demonic Human.
Not merely heretics, but those who trained in monstrous arts that corrupted their humanity itself.
Whenever one appeared, the entire martial world declared them a public enemy, uniting orthodox, unorthodox, and even black path masters to eliminate them.
Thus, Demonic Humans usually fled or hid, concealing their existence.
But thirty years ago, the appearance of Sa Myeong-ok, the Lord of Ten Thousand Demons, had united them.
Openly declaring himself a Demonic Human, Sa Myeong-ok rampaged through the martial world.
Countless masters—orthodox, unorthodox, and otherwise—fell to him.
The martial world endured a river of blood, until finally the Hundred Great Masters united to barely drive him and the others out.
Even then, they could only expel, not defeat him.
Many said that if only the legendary masters like Cheon Nam-yeon or Gu Yeong-cheol had been alive, Sa Myeong-ok would not have had his way. But that was long past.
The last anyone saw of Sa Myeong-ok and the Demonic Humans was them vanishing across the Gobi Desert thirty years ago.
And now—rumors of Demonic Humans again?
“It can’t be,” Gaegolge denied.
“Hmm…”
Liu Dong’s face darkened, silent for a long while before speaking.
“Return to Hong Kong. See if there’s been any strange activity these past years.”
“You think a Demonic Human has appeared?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to believe it. But we must check. I’ll notify the branches across Guangdong and report to headquarters.”
“Understood.”
Gaegolge’s heart grew heavy.
“Go quickly.”
He bowed and departed for Hong Kong.
Liu Dong’s expression remained grim.
“It cannot be. They crossed the Gobi Desert thirty years ago…”
