Wudang Sacred Scriptures

When the man assumed a formal stance, Kwak Yeon spoke evenly.

“I can let it pass that you cleaned up the refuse I left behind as part of a Heaven-and-Earth Net. What I do not like is the impure intent behind it.”

“From a Taoist’s position, that would be only natural.”

“Now that I know it, I cannot allow it. I have a few words for your lord—will you deliver them?”

“In these circumstances, how could I not? I will carve them into memory. Speak.”

“First—what has happened until now, I will overlook as a clan head answering the death of his kin. But tell him I will not tolerate what comes next.”

“...!”

At those words the man understood that Kwak Yeon had fixed his lord’s identity without doubt.

His eyes went cold.

To speak so, knowing full well that his lord was the Clan Master of the Jegal Family—this was out-and-out provocation.

“And if he does not stop, what will you do?”

“What happened at the Hidden Dragon Command will befall your lord as well.”

A glint of killing intent shone in the man’s eyes.

To place a mere branch master on the same line with the main Clan Master—and to speak as if he were something already in one’s sleeve.

“You claim you dare, even knowing who my lord is?”

“If I set myself to do it, I do it.”

“...!”

Meeting the man’s wide stare head-on, Kwak Yeon continued,

“Of course, if your lord resolves to stop me with his full strength, I may fail to carry it through. But this much I guarantee: most who move to block my way will not come off unscathed.”

A chill ran over the man at the depth in Kwak Yeon’s gaze.

Any who claimed he could, alone, topple half the Jegal Family would be called mad.

Was it not one of the Five Great Families of the realm, from generation to generation?

Yet he could not call the Dark Cavern Taoist mad.

He knew well that the Dark Cavern Taoist neither acted in madness nor from arrogance. And he knew this: once this Taoist spoke, he did it.

“Impressive confidence.”

Shaking his head, the man went on,

“As a servant, I will carry what you say as you ask—but know this will enrage my lord.”

Kwak Yeon nodded readily.

“Lastly—tell your lord this: whatever the occasion, if he arranges something official and invites this Taoist, I will set all else aside and come in person. So refrain from any more dirty stratagems.”

“Whatever the occasion”—that meant he would meet even if the Clan Master did not come alone.

It was a warning as well: do not scheme from the shadows any longer.

The man realized this Dark Cavern Taoist knew his lord’s weakness precisely, and warned him on that point.

To keep the family’s shame from showing, his lord had called in him—the Black Hand—and arranged matters so the Dark Cavern Taoist would wear the blame.

That way the family’s honor would be kept for the moment, and later they would have grounds to punish the Taoist.

“If waiting for spring is too hard, one might send the swallows early.”

He recalled his lord’s murmur at the window—and, inwardly, shook his head.

My lord, it seems we can no longer send the swallows.

Even as Clan Master of a great house, he could not ignore so chilling a warning.

Knowing his lord’s temper—patient as winter honeysuckle—he thought they would give up sending swallows and wait quietly for the time.

“I will report everything to my lord.”

As the man dipped in salute to close the exchange, Kwak Yeon spoke again.

“I cannot say I feel no regret at having you carry only my demands. So I will add a bonus tale for your lord.”

“...?”

“Those Four Evils of Heaven said they were paid a thousand gold taels up front to take my head, and nine thousand on completion.”

The man started—so the commission totaled ten thousand in gold.

The Elder Council Lord could never have that kind of money...

Ten thousand in gold was a colossal sum—near a decade of the Jegal Family’s income.

“More surprising, the Four Evils boasted of the price and mentioned the level of a sect’s Lord.”

The Dark Cavern Taoist’s intent in saying this was unclear; the man had to ask,

“Why tell me this?”

“I wondered if a knife prepared for butchering an ox had been used to dress a chicken because of some urgent need.”

“...!”

“When that brute over there named Elder Council Lord Jegal Deok a moment ago, the thought struck me.”

Seeing the man’s eyes fly wide, Kwak Yeon went on,

“Of course—if your lord and the Elder Council Lord are on harmonious terms, then it is all idle talk; that is why I called it a bonus.”

A dull thunder went through the man’s head.

The Four Evils of Heaven—said to be able to take even the Martial Alliance Lord’s head if the price were met; the enormous sum of ten thousand in gold; the Hidden Dragon Command Lord’s ambition; the illicit silver-mining enterprise that came to light at his death; and the Elder Council Lord, the dead Command Lord’s father and his own lord’s uncle—all strung together on a single line.

Especially since the former Clan Master’s death, the Elder Council Lord’s way of slighting his lord at every turn stuck in the mind.

“Clan Master, placing the Secretariat Pavilion directly under the Clan Lord’s Hall does not accord with the family law.”

During a family council, Elder Council Lord Jegal Deok had once blocked his lord.

Under the table, the man had seen his lord’s hand clench white.

This is more than a bonus.

He realized he had won immense merit. The failure of this affair would be nothing.

That the Elder Council Lord had dealings with the Four Evils was certain. Otherwise, how could the hire have moved so swiftly?

The Four Evils were great Demonic warlords of the realm—vanished and in hiding.

Knowing how to reach them was itself beyond suspicion.

A knife prepared for an ox!

It was exact.

Ten thousand in gold—a vast sum. Now it was plain why the Hidden Dragon Command Lord had risked himself on the illicit silver mines.

As each piece clicked into a single line, the man offered Kwak Yeon the warrior’s highest courtesy, a clasped-fist salute.

“Taoist, I will carry that bonus tale to my lord—faithfully.”

Kwak Yeon nodded and said,

“Then draw your sword.”

“...?”

When the man lifted his chin, Kwak Yeon spoke calmly,

“I must collect the price of my name, soiled as it has been. To avoid hindering your errand, I will take only one arm.”

The man nodded.

“You keep your accounts strict. To tell the truth, I too would be sorry to go without this.”

—Chaaang!

Drawing a blade black as ink, the man continued,

“Though I am a Black Hand, I do have some skill. I have long wanted to test myself once against your attainment in the sword.”

At the man’s words, full of competitive spirit, Kwak Yeon looked pleased.

“Along with the pursuit art that startled you, I learned a certain sword method. I am curious how far my practice has come. I will face you with that method alone. Of course, given the difference in realm, you must do your utmost.”

“That I accept—but with a sword art just acquired, you will find me hard to handle.”

“If I yield a single step, your arm will remain whole. Is that not all the better for you?”

“In that case, I will accept—and strive all the more.”

The man’s chest trembled.

He had wanted, once, to measure how far his sword could reach toward the Gang Realm.

The Thirty-Eight-Change Merciless Sword!

Thirty-eight techniques, all kill-strokes—an all-combat sword method.

No decorum, no sentiment; once begun, all thirty-eight must be unleashed in one breath—an extremity of speed.

Naturally there were no defensive forms.

If you failed to cut your {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} foe, you offered your own neck—most like the Black Hand’s cold life.

“The gap in realm is heaven and earth. I will strike first.”

“Come.”

A flicker of anger touched the man as he saw that Kwak Yeon did not even place a hand on the Cheonggang Sword’s hilt.

No matter the gap in realm...

The distance was scarcely three zhang—one stride of his lightness skill would reach.

Glaring at Kwak Yeon, the man thrust.

—Whssst!

His body winked out—and black light flashed before Kwak Yeon’s eyes.

—Chaaang!

Sparks leapt in an instant—and that was the start.

—Ching! Ching! Ching! Ching!

Countless sparks blossomed around Kwak Yeon.

Circling him, the man slashed without cease.

Short cuts to long thrusts, a chopping bind to a rising cut—aiming for the head, then raking the thigh.

That the first few moves were blocked he took as natural—his foe was a master of the Fire Realm.

But when the Dark Cavern Taoist’s responses grew ever faster—faster than his opening forms—he flinched.

From the twentieth technique on, the Cheonggang Sword appeared near-simultaneously with his attack and barred the line.

Unable to concede defeat, he rode his will and ran all thirty-eight to the end.

In the time it took the first sparks to fade, the thirty-eighth and last flared.

—Jyeoong!

With a final thunderclap, the firework-bursts of sparks all died.

In their place, a spray of blood blossomed.

—Shaaah!

He sheathed his blade as he saw his left arm drop from beneath the shoulder.

He felt no regret, though an arm was gone.

He had just unfolded the Thirty-Eight-Change Merciless Sword to its most perfect pitch.

The posture of challenging the Gang Realm had drawn out his best.

He did feel one small pang.

The Dark Cavern Taoist had kept his word and used no Gang-qi at all.

He had wanted to see how many forms his own black blade, fully flung with sword-qi, could withstand against Gang-qi.

In any case, he could not help but admire that the Dark Cavern Taoist had met his full combat sword, start to finish, with sword method alone.

“You mean you trained to this level in only a few days since acquiring it?”

Kwak Yeon nodded.

“I am surprised as well.”

He was not speaking idly. The effect of the First Sword Form—Falling Star Ten Thousand Changes—was astonishing.

That he had not drawn the Cheonggang Sword until the instant before the man’s kill-sword fell was not contempt.

He had felt that the other’s battle-honed momentum was no less than any Peak Master.

Even so, he waited to the last instant because the First Sword Form, Falling Star Ten Thousand Changes, began from the moment the sword left the sheath.

‘The Heavenly Saber of Pojun did not boast idly that there was no sword that the First Form could not stop.’

Had he not been practicing Falling Star Ten Thousand Changes, he would have had to use sword Gang to suppress the man’s kill-sword—at ruinous waste of inner true qi.

Confirming the advantages of a rising art, Kwak Yeon resolved to devote himself all the more to the remaining forms.

Then the man spoke, abruptly,

“May I ask the name of that sword form?”