Jeomchang Sect

It was regrettable that the financial situation of the Jeomchang Sect was dire, but when looked at coldly, that was their problem, not Tang Mujin's.

Even without money, the sword of Jeomchang was still swift and sharp, so Tang Mujin and his companions, living within the walls of the Yu Clan, remained safe.

But Tang Mujin could not be satisfied with safety alone. His goal was not merely to shake off the shadow of Salmak—it was to completely crush it. He had no intention of living under the same sky forever with those who murdered the strange entity.

The problem was twofold. For one, he lacked the strength to face Salmak head-on; for another, it was difficult to obtain information about them.

Skill was an issue that couldn't be resolved right away, but information could be gathered gradually, starting now.

Tang Mujin went to meet Yu Jingwang, the head of the Yu Clan, and asked him if he knew anything about Salmak.

Since a Jeomchang master at the peak would hardly have any ties to Salmak, it was a relatively safe choice.

"Salmak? As far as I know, there's no Salmak branch in Gujiang. Yunnan too is a region where Salmak's influence doesn't reach easily. Wouldn't it be better to head to a larger city, make contact with one of their branches there, and work your way up from there?"

"As expected, there seems to be no other way. It won't be easy to force such a move right now, though."

"If you happen to have ties to the Beggar's Union, that would be another good way. Few possess as much information as they do."

Tang Mujin's ties with the Beggar's Union amounted only to Hong Geolgae, the one man he could call a friend.

Still, one more name came to mind—Hongmyeon Nogae of Chongqing. If it were Haryeong, she might be able to get information through Hongmyeon Nogae. The Hao Sect also had plenty of people; someone there might know something.

Tang Mujin sought out Guan, handed over a hefty sum of money, and sent a carrier pigeon to Chongqing.

***

A considerable time later, Haryeong's reply arrived.

The message was plain and simple: she had no information at the moment, but would start looking into it.

Well, of course. For someone like Haryeong, Salmak was hardly of special interest. After all, Salmak wasn't about to attempt assassinating a transcendent like her.

Time slipped by, and Tang Mujin's group grew accustomed to life within the Yu Clan.

The one who had shown the most progress during this period was Chu Sam.

Under Tang Mujin's guidance, Chu Sam's medical skills had advanced by leaps and bounds, reaching a level where he could competently serve as a physician almost anywhere. The lack of a mentor and his own limited insight were obstacles, but his efforts so far had not gone to waste.

Dan seol-yeong, as always, spent her time inventing all manner of strange and wondrous things.

The Jeomchang martial artists of the Yu Clan were less fascinated by her inventions and more by the fact that she was the only woman within the compound walls.

But none dared to approach her boldly. The sweet, ambiguous current between Dan seol-yeong and Tang Mujin was obvious even to the densest of men.

Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong trained martial arts wherever they could, sometimes even sparring with the warriors of the Jeomchang Sect.

Yet their achievements were vastly different.

Namgung Myeong's progress was evident day by day, but Tang Mujin found himself blocked.

He knew his efforts were yielding results, but he felt strongly that such simple training would never be enough to break through the wall of the peak realm. Even as he trained, frustration welled in his chest.

Clashing wooden swords with Namgung Myeong one day, Tang Mujin finally threw his sword aside and spoke.

"Now I understand why they call the peak a wall. I can't grasp it at all."

"So you're finally ready to admit and accept the gap between us?"

"That's not what I mean. It just feels like I'm stuck."

Namgung Myeong shrugged.

"I know that feeling well. I went through it for years."

"Any advice for a peak master in the making?"

"Advice for a lowly first-rate? … In my case, it was important to shake off what was holding me down."

"What was holding you down?"

Namgung Myeong explained:

"I thought I was ready to reach the peak years ago. I felt like a ripened balsam flower, about to burst at any moment. But I couldn't break through—until I realized something was binding me. When I cut away fear and lingering attachment, I moved on to the next realm."

"So I need to shake something off as well?"

"Not necessarily. Don't dwell on it too much. Everyone's story is different. Some say they advanced by filling their shortcomings, others by discarding desire. And there are plenty who break through without ever knowing why. It's not a problem to solve by fretting. If you could find the answer easily, you wouldn't be a mere first-rate…"

It was a cryptic, elusive piece of advice. Tang Mujin did not return indoors but continued to swing his sword under the moonlight for a long time. Yet no special change came.

***

One night, Tang Mujin awoke with a strange sense—a sensation he hadn't felt once during his stay at the Yu Clan.

As he sat up, he saw another figure rise in the darkness—Namgung Myeong had sensed it too.

Without a word, they stepped outside, where they caught sight of a black-clad figure slipping over the wall and out into the night.

"…Salmak?"

Tang Mujin quickly checked the next room. Thankfully, Dan seol-yeong was still fast asleep, with no sign of intrusion.

If anything, this was an opportunity. A chance to catch Salmak's trail. He turned to Namgung Myeong.

"Let's follow."

Namgung Myeong wordlessly handed him a mask. The two donned them and trailed the figure at a cautious distance.

The black-clad man didn't seem to notice he was being tailed and moved somewhat leisurely. This allowed Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong to observe closely—and soon they noticed oddities.

Unlike other Salmak assassins, he carried no weapons. The only item on him was a small pouch tied at his waist.

More striking still, his movements and footwork were oddly familiar—it was the Jeomchang Sect's very own movement art, the Flowing Cloud Steps (Yu Unsinbeop).

A chill ran down Tang Mujin's spine.

"Could Salmak have infiltrated even the Jeomchang Sect?"

"I don't know. We can't rule it out."

The man reached the edge of town and slipped into a shabby tavern without so much as glancing around.

It wasn't an inn—just a small place serving simple food. Yet despite the late hour, light glowed from inside.

For such a place to remain open past dusk was strange indeed.

Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong pressed themselves against the outside.

The windows were boarded shut, but their sharp hearing served them well.

They caught only muffled murmurs, the clatter of objects, and the occasional low sigh. It was impossible to guess what was happening inside.

"I can't tell at all."

"Let's wait a little longer."

Soon, the door swung open and the black-clad man emerged.

Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong suppressed their presence, then leapt forward once he had moved far enough.

"Stop!"

Startled, the man fumbled at his waist—but there was no weapon to grasp.

He fought fiercely with a refined unarmed style, trying to shake them off, but against two armed opponents, he was at a disadvantage.

Namgung Myeong seized the upper hand and was about to subdue him when the man suddenly flung himself back and cried out:

"Wait, are you Young Master Myeong and Young Master Tang?"

"Yes, sharp-eyed one. A Salmak lackey, are you? Let's see the face under that mask."

"What?"

The man tore off his mask—and revealed a familiar face.

It was Yu Jingwang, the head of the Yu Clan. Both Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong were stunned.

"A Salmak pawn trying to seize Jeomchang… The world must be ending."

"Salmak? You dare slander me so!"

Yu Jingwang's face flushed red with fury, but his words rang hollow.

"We caught you skulking in black clothes, sneaking into a Salmak branch. Don't deny it."

"What? That tavern has nothing to do with Salmak. You're gravely mistaken."

"You were caught red-handed and still make excuses?"

"Excuses? … If you don't believe me, follow me."

With a sigh, Yu Jingwang pulled his mask back on and strode toward the tavern.

Inside, the faint light still leaked through, and the sounds of people seemed to have grown louder.

He flung the door open. Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong tensed, hands on their hilts, ready for an ambush.

But what they saw inside was nothing like what they expected.

Masked and unmasked men alike sat crowded at tables—but none even looked up when the door opened with a bang.

They were absorbed in their activities: rolling dice, clutching small wooden plaques. It was a gambling den.

A man keeping watch inside glanced at Yu Jingwang and asked:

"What is it? Why'd you come back? Here to squeeze us for a cut?"

"No. I just had some business and returned."

"Business? And who are those two with swords behind you?"

"Don't worry. It's not what you think."

Yu Jingwang exchanged a few more words with the men inside, then closed the tavern door and stepped back out.

Tang Mujin did not know why Yu Jingwang frequented a gambling den, but at least one thing was clear—it had nothing to do with Salmak.

Removing his mask, Tang Mujin spoke.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding. But given the circumstances…"

"I understand. Still, I'd prefer this kind of misunderstanding never happen again."

Yu Jingwang's voice was curt and displeased.

The three removed their masks and trudged back toward the Yu Clan compound. The atmosphere was awkward, heavy with unspoken tension.

To be precise, Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong merely felt sheepish, but Yu Jingwang's expression was dark—not so much angry as… despondent.

At first, Tang Mujin thought it was lingering dissatisfaction from the misunderstanding, but the more he looked, the less it seemed so. His face bore not wrath, but gloom.

To ease the atmosphere, Tang Mujin asked carefully:

"…Might I ask, Clan Leader Yu, what business you had at the gambling den?"

"For the future of Jeomchang Sect."

That was all Yu Jingwang said, before clamming up.

Tang Mujin then noticed the small pouch at Yu Jingwang's waist, swaying limply. It seemed he had lost money at the tables.

The source of that money was obvious enough—the profits earned through the Yu Escort Agency's endeavors.

Tang Mujin let it pass without comment, but Namgung Myeong was clearly displeased. To him, a leader squandering the hard-earned coin of his subordinates on gambling was intolerable.

His tone turned sharp, uncharacteristically critical:

"How does the future of Jeomchang lie in a gambling den? I've heard that the previous sect leader, the Flashing Sword Yu Gwanil, also suffered great losses through gambling. Do not repeat such foolishness."

In that instant, Yu Jingwang's demeanor changed. He shed his weary slump, his eyes blazing like fire as he glared at Namgung Myeong.

"Hold your tongue. My father was not wrong."

"Your father…?"

Tang Mujin suddenly realized—Yu Jingwang and Yu Gwanil, the previous sect leader of Jeomchang, shared the same surname. They were father and son.

"My father was a martial artist of Jeomchang more upright and honorable than any other. He gave his utmost, and only the result was regretful."

"…And what connection is there between being an upright Jeomchang warrior and gambling?"

"That is the kind of ignorant thing said by someone who knows nothing of Jeomchang's martial ways."

Yu Jingwang extended a finger toward Namgung Myeong.

With not a trace of trickery, the simple, direct thrust split the air with startling speed.

"The essence of Jeomchang's martial arts is directness (zhi) and swiftness (kuai). Without the slightest hesitation, pouring one's entire life into a single thrust—that is the spirit of Jeomchang. In our swordsmanship there is no feint, no trickery, no wasteful ornamentation."

The warriors of Jeomchang traced their lineage back to Hou Yi, the archer who shot down the suns. Their swordsmanship was embodied in two arts:

The Sun-Shooting Sword Technique (Sail Sword Method), founded upon lightning-fast thrusts, and the Light-Splitting Thirty-Six Swords, whose speed was said to cut even light itself.

Both were famed, as Yu Jingwang said, for their purity—untainted by artifice.

His voice rang with conviction:

"Though my father met a regrettable end, I will succeed."

"…Could there not be another way than gambling?"

"To choose another path is to retreat, and to retreat is defeat. But if one does not retreat, then one has not been defeated. My father never suffered defeat, and I must prove the validity of his way."

In Yu Jingwang's eyes flickered a light that seemed to go beyond resolve, skirting the edge of madness.

It could have been the gaze of a martial man determined to uphold Jeomchang's creed. Or the gaze of a son striving to restore his father's honor. Or simply the gaze of a gambler, addicted and desperate for justification.

Suddenly, Tang Mujin recalled the tale that the former sect leader had disappeared into obscurity.

Hadn't the previous sect leader already retreated…?

But he dared not voice that thought—he knew it would make him Yu Jingwang's mortal enemy. So he kept silent, merely listening as Namgung Myeong pressed on.

"Is victory or defeat truly what matters? To wager the blood-and-sweat-earned money of your men on a single roll of dice—is that not shameful?"

"It would be, if it were done in secret. But they all know. And they all agreed."

Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong were struck dumb with shock, but Yu Jingwang continued.

"If we were to rely only on the Yu Escort Agency's income to fund Jeomchang, it would take well over fifty years. Meaning that until the day we die of old age, Jeomchang would never escape its shackles."

"Hmm…"

"But if we all pool the income of a single month, and win a few matches, we can rescue Jeomchang from its plight. That is the straightest path, the swiftest path, and the path of a Jeomchang martial artist unafraid of defeat."

"…And yet, have you not failed again and again so far?"

Yu Jingwang's face lit up with a smile, filled with unshakable hope, without a trace of doubt.

"Next time, I will win. I can feel it."

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