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chapter 52
The martial world — called the jianghu — was a place of survival of the fittest. But it was also a world of reputation.
To survive in the jianghu, being strong mattered, but how people perceived you mattered just as much.
The same was true for Geomryeong.
“A disciple of Jeonmo Yakbing!”
Just that one fact earned him treatment from the Hyeongsan Sect that was equivalent to the respect given to a well-known righteous-sword school.
If Geomryeong himself had announced he was Jeonmo Yakbing’s disciple, no one might have believed him. But because Gun Il-san — Hyeongsan’s top sword — vouched for him, the sect’s headman Wang Seok-ji trusted that and treated him accordingly.
Out of courtesy to Gun Il-san’s name, Hyeongsan’s disciples weren’t told directly that Geomryeong was Yakbing’s student. Still, the mere news that Gun Il-san had broken his seclusion on Yongchuk Peak and was living with Geomryeong at the guest hall drew plenty of attention from Hyeongsan’s people.
That attention was a little burdensome for Jeok Hwa-myeong and Yu Ak-gun, but Geomryeong didn’t seem to care.
Although Hyeongsan’s disciples were curious, Geomryeong’s life was monotonous. He wanted to leave the sect, but he couldn’t — not until the people from Cheonmyeong Villa came and settled things. So he passed the time at Hyeongsan by helping Yu Ak-gun or Jeok Hwa-myeong with their training in addition to his own practice.
At first, Hyeongsan’s attention felt overwhelming. But once Geomryeong started examining their martial arts, Yu Ak-gun and Jeok Hwa-myeong were thrilled.
Both were peak-level masters, but with Geomryeong’s help they could shore up their weak spots.
One afternoon in the guest hall courtyard, while Jeok Hwa-myeong and Yu Ak-gun sparred to test each other’s skills, Geomryeong sat watching their bout with Gun Il-san and chatted with him.
“There’s a slyness hidden in that guy’s swordplay,” Gun Il-san observed.
Yu Ak-gun’s martial arts differed a bit from orthodox righteous techniques. Gun Il-san had noticed that immediately.
“He’s from the unorthodox side. After meeting me, he offered to be my bodyguard, and I allowed him to accompany me,” Gun Il-san said casually — there was no need to elaborate about Yu Ak-gun.
“I see. Jeok Hwa-myeong’s style isn’t orthodox mainstream either,” Gun Il-san added.
“I’ve heard Jeok hyung grew up among official circles. His swordplay must have become more practical through real combat,” Geomryeong replied.
Gun Il-san nodded. Though he couldn’t match Geomryeong in sheer skill, his eye for people and his sense for the world were superior.
“If he grows like this, he could well become one of the jianghu’s representative masters.”
Gun Il-san looked at Jeok Hwa-myeong with a touch of envy.
Among the Five Mountain Sword Sects, Hyeongsan’s elder generation were mostly men who would sit in the inner hall with age. The later-stage disciples of Hyeongsan paled in comparison to people like Jeok Hwa-myeong or Yu Ak-gun.
From that, Gun Il-san had realized something.
During his ten years of seclusion, Hyeongsan had stagnated. His duty was not to turn away from the world, but to raise outstanding later-stage disciples who would spread Hyeongsan’s name far and wide.
“If you hadn’t visited Hyeongsan, the sect would have slowly grown complacent and its strength declined without our noticing.”
Geomryeong shook his head.
“My master said that as long as the Grand Elder remains, the world’s greatest swordsman will come from Hyeongsan,” he said.
A faint smile touched Gun Il-san’s mouth, one that carried an odd sadness.
“It’s just hollow words,” he murmured.
“No one would deny it,” Geomryeong said firmly.
“That’s what people say because they don’t know. I never got a single tip from the Ghost Demon Lord, nor from the Solitary Demon.” Gun Il-san fell silent, remembering how many clandestine tales there were in the jianghu.
Though once famed as Hyeongsan’s top sword, he had never been able to equal those two masters. Back when he was growing, the gap in strength was severe. He had to grind his teeth and cultivate pain as if sleeping on brushwood and tasting gall — enduring hardship to achieve the title of top sword among the Five Mountain Sects — but by then the three greats had already retired from the jianghu.
Gun Il-san had never found them. He had stayed and served as Hyeongsan’s headman, active in the martial world until he passed the headman’s post to his disciple Wang Seok-ji and retreated to Yongchuk Peak.
“I feel like I’ve failed them again,” he said.
Geomryeong listened as Gun Il-san continued.
“You raised such a fine disciple. Perhaps Chun Nam-yeon or Gu Young-cheol also raised disciples and sent them into the jianghu.”
Geomryeong said nothing and absorbed his words.
“In contrast, I was trapped by the past and failed to perform my duty. That is why I am defeated by those seniors, not just in name,” Gun Il-san conceded.
“But Headman Wang Seok-ji is there, isn’t he?” Geomryeong said.
A proud smile lit Gun Il-san’s face this time.
“Headman is busy with affairs and hasn’t had the time to raise disciples like that.”
He spoke as he watched the two spar, a duel in which both seemed to try to kill each other like enemies. No one tried to stop them — their skills were so even that it was impossible to declare a clear superior.
“But Hyeongsan’s vigor remains,” Gun Il-san added, nodding.
“Yes, it will,” Geomryeong agreed.
On a dark night when even the moon was blotted out, drizzle fell.
Rumbles of thunder cracked and, as though the sky were breaking, a bolt of lightning descended and lit the ground for a moment.
Flash!
Another bolt struck.
Two figures who had not been there moments before now stood as if they had always been there.
One was a man with a triangular face, delicate like a woman with narrow features and small eyes and nose gathered toward the center; he looked startled. Opposite him stood a man with a round face and clear, prominent features that gave him an easy, comfortable presence.
“How did you know?” the triangular-faced man asked.
“By chance,” the round-faced man replied.
The triangular-faced man frowned.
“The important thing is that you, Son Mak, the deputy head of the Eung-Hyeol Gate, are learning demonic arts, aren’t you?”
Eung-Hyeol Gate was a small unorthodox sect based in Jiangsu Province with about twenty members. Son Mak, the deputy sect leader, had once stolen the demonic art called the One-Heart Siphoning Technique, which belonged to Aeng-hwa — a courtesan from Hwa-rak-ru and Son Mak’s government-provided partner. He killed Aeng-hwa after discovering she had learned the technique on the street and seized it for himself.
That had been five years earlier.
To hide the fact he had learned demonic arts, Son Mak had controlled how much qi he siphoned so as not to draw attention. But tonight he had been discovered.
The One-Heart Siphoning Technique was a demonic art that could secretly absorb an opponent’s inner energy regardless of the opponent’s own level. Its fatal flaw was that if others knew you were using it, it became useless.
“You’ve been practicing the demonic arts, so you deserve to pay a price,” said the triangular-faced man, biting his lip. He understood well what the price would be.
‘He’s a top master. I can’t handle him in my current state.’
“Will you expose him to the world?” Son Mak asked, trying to lull his opponent into complacency.
“Of course!”
“I’ve practiced the demonic arts for five years, but I’m not even at the third-star level. Eung-Hyeol Gate is insignificant in the jianghu. If you’d spare me this once, I’ll do anything you ask.”
The round-faced man perked up at that offer.
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
“Then give me your life.”
Son Mak’s face contorted. To ask someone begging for their life to hand it over felt like mockery. But the one holding the knife was not Son Mak.
“You unorthodox types can’t be trusted. You say you’ll do anything — what if you just run away?”
“I wouldn’t.”
Son Mak stepped forward. He thought perhaps a few steps closer would give him an opportunity.
“Can you really do anything?”
“Yes. Spare my life and I’ll do anything.”
“Son Mak! Don’t try to outsmart me. Take one more step and I’ll put a hole in your head.”
Son Mak’s expression twisted.
“If you want to live, freeze where you are.”
Only then did Son Mak realize what the man wanted from him.
“What is it you want?”
“I’ve heard the Eung-Hyeol Gate’s head, Jeong Yun’s wife, is very beautiful.”
Son Mak stared at him.
“I want you to kill the head of Eung-Hyeol Gate, Jeong Yun, and then show me you rape his wife. Can you do that?”
“Do you really mean for me to do that?”
“Of course. You’ll take over Eung-Hyeol Gate and be glad, and I’ll enjoy my hobby and be glad…”
Flash!
Lightning struck and briefly lit the area again.
Son Mak could see the man’s smiling face clearly. Beneath that pleasant expression lurked cruelty.
“I don’t have the skill to beat the sect head,” Son Mak admitted.
“But he’ll be off-guard, so you can kill him. He won’t know you’ve practiced demonic arts,” the man said.
Son Mak glared for a moment, then nodded.
“All right. I’ll do it.”
The man flicked something with his finger.
A tiny pill dropped and stopped at Son Mak’s feet. Even that one move made Son Mak feel he was no match for the man.
“Eat it.”
“W-what is it?”
“No need to know. Just eat it.”
Son Mak hesitated, then took the pill into his mouth — not to swallow, but to hide it and spit it out when the man turned away.
‘What!’
Son Mak was startled.
When the pill touched his tongue it dissolved like water and slid down his throat.
“Heh heh! You’re not the only one who can play tricks, Son Mak!”
Son Mak fell silent. After the pill slid down, his body began to change.
“Ke ke ke ke!”
His eyes reddened and a faint smile escaped his lips.
“The Demonization Pill is a concoction that erupts the demon nature of demonic arts practitioners,” the man said.
“Ke ke ke!”
Son Mak stood there making a strange laugh, evidently unable to hear or understand the man’s words.
The pill had activated his demonic nature, pushing him to the next level of possession.
“Son Mak! Remember the promise you made me?”
“Ke ke ke ke!”
“Good. Kill Jeong Yun, rape his wife, then absorb his blood qi, and afterward kill all Eung-Hyeol Gate’s disciples. Understand?”
Son Mak nodded.
“Then come down to the village and slaughter the people there afterward.”
