Chapter 22: Something Heavier Than Anger
With the death of the Taiji Sword Emperor officially announced by Wudang, news spread that the carriage bearing the Vice Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult—the murderer—was approaching, and the entire martial world of Hubei seethed with rage.
Moreover, Hubei was a region filled with small and mid-sized sects founded by lay disciples of Wudang, to which the Taiji Sword Emperor—killed by Yul Han—had belonged.
To them, this incident was not merely the death of the Number One of the Hundred Paths. It was the bitter, unjust killing of a venerable elder of their sect at the hands of a demonic leader of the Demonic Cult.
Requests from the lay disciples to immediately form and dispatch an execution force surged toward Wudang like crashing waves.
Within Wudang itself, enraged disciples cried out that an execution force had to be assembled without delay.
From the standpoint of the Sect Master, and even for the Council of Elders of Wudang, this was not a matter that could be ignored.
Accordingly, the prevailing expectation was that Wudang would take action at once.
Just as a decision was about to be made, two Daoists arrived at the inner sanctum of Wudang, the residence of the Sect Master.
The Sect Master, who held full authority over Wudang, hurriedly rose to greet the visitors.
One of those who had come was a martial elder of the same generation as the Sect Master’s own master.
Unyeon Jinren.
At the visit of the old Daoist—who had long since retired and resided in the Hall of Longevity—the Sect Master hastily stepped down from the seat of honor and bowed deeply.
“You have come? Martial Uncle.”
“It has been a long time, Sect Master.”
“To come here yourself… Had you summoned me, I would have come to you at once.”
“How could I, having once been a disciple of Wudang, summon the Sect Master to come and go? Do not trouble yourself over it.”
As the Sect Master respectfully escorted the modest Martial Uncle Unyeon Jinren to the seat of honor, the other Daoist offered his greeting.
“It has been a long time.”
“You have come? I have no face to see you.”
“How could you say such a thing….”
The one who quietly lowered his head was Chang Myeongja, the senior disciple of the recently deceased Taiji Sword Emperor.
He had been evaluated as a martial talent so outstanding that the Taiji Sword Emperor himself had assured that he would reach heights beyond his own, and he had recently been in secluded cultivation.
Seen this way, the elderly Daoist—who was the Sect Master’s Martial Uncle—was the master who had raised the Taiji Sword Emperor.
In other words, the master and the senior disciple of the Taiji Sword Emperor, who had gone out under the Sect Master’s orders and been killed by the Vice Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult, had come together.
The Sect Master could easily guess the reason they had come to see him at this late hour.
“If this is about the execution force, do not worry. Tomorrow, the departure will be announced. No matter what, Wudang will mobilize all its strength and behead that demonic bastard who killed my martial brother—”
“That is precisely why we came—to tell you not to do so.”
At Unyeon Jinren’s words, cutting him off mid-sentence, the Sect Master stared blankly for a moment before asking,
“Why… is that?”
“I have heard that he is one who cannot be defeated.”
“One fist that cannot withstand ten fists is a truth that has held since ancient times, Martial Uncle.”
At the Sect Master’s words, Unyeon Jinren spoke in a bitter voice.
“And what of the safety of those ten fists thrown forth like that? Are we to drive other people’s disciples—innocent as young shoots—into death, all for the sake of avenging my disciple?”
“B-But….”
As the Sect Master failed to hide his flustered expression, Chang Myeongja spoke this time.
“Please entrust revenge to this unworthy disciple. Whether it takes ten years or fifty, I will hone myself, surpass him, and without fail claim my master’s blood debt.”
Only then did the Sect Master truly understand why the two had come.
They had come to prevent the futile deaths of those who would rush out crying for revenge.
For that purpose, they had come to halt the execution of the murderer who had killed a disciple as dear as a son and a master comparable to one’s own parents.
Faced with the resolve of the two, the Sect Master could not speak for a long time.
Despite the incessant requests of the lay disciples, Wudang remained silent, as if lost in thought.
Before long, rumors began to spread that some lay disciples, enraged by the sect’s inaction, had gone on individual revenge missions and met with disaster.
Even so, the procession of Wudang’s lay disciples stepping forward to block the carriage of the Vice Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult did not cease.
What was strange was that among those lay disciples of Wudang who had gone out to block the carriage and met with disaster, there were no stories of anyone having died.
Perhaps because of that, though Wudang had flinched for a moment at the unexpected independent actions of the lay disciples, it ultimately showed no movement at all.
In the face of the attacks of Wudang’s lay disciples who charged in crying for revenge, there was no need for Yul Han himself to step in. They could not even get past Cold Blade Blood or Flashing Light Blood.
‘Do not kill them.’
With that single order from Yul Han, the lay disciples of Wudang who had assaulted the carriage crying for revenge were able to keep their lives.
Struck by the back of Cold Blade Blood’s blade rather than its edge, and adding the two who had just lost consciousness, the number exceeded fifty.
Leaving those unconscious lay disciples of Wudang behind, Yul Han’s carriage once more picked up speed and crossed the boundary dividing Shaanxi and Henan.
Crossing through northern Shaanxi and entering Henan, Luoyang lay close at hand—though that “close at hand” still meant a distance requiring more than two days by carriage.
Perhaps because it had entered the territory of the Martial Alliance, no one else appeared to block the carriage during those two days.
Thus, after passing two days without incident(?), it was only around midday on the third day that Yul Han’s carriage was finally able to reach Luoyang.
Luoyang.
A place that had served as the capital for the Sui and Tang, as well as countless ancient states.
Because it had so often stood at the center of warfare, it was, unfortunately, also a city with little left behind.
The resplendent imperial palaces and the numerous historical relics had mostly been lost and vanished to the flames amid the chaos of war.
What little remained worth seeing were the Longmen Grottoes and the White Horse Temple, said to be the first Buddhist temple in the land.
Of course, for those of the martial world, a slightly different place would be ranked first—but that was another matter.
The cluster of towering pavilions that completely filled Luoyang’s eastern district was, to those of the martial world, a place more important than any other.
The reason was made clear by the plaque hanging over the main gate alone.
<Martial Alliance>
The three characters, written in a single flowing stroke with a spirit soaring like dragons and tigers, represented both the status and the meaning of this pavilion complex.
The heart of the Central Plains’ Hundred Paths martial world, boasting a history of several thousand years. And toward that Martial Alliance, a carriage bearing the unmistakable emblem of the Bright Cult—its sworn enemy for life—approached.
From the moment it entered Henan, the Martial Alliance, which had already been observing every movement as though holding it in the palm of its hand, came out to meet the Bright Cult’s carriage with countless martial artists raising keenly honed spears and blades.
There were no shouted threats or raised voices, but merely by filling the long road within the alliance grounds—through which the carriage passed beyond the main gate—with warriors holding banners, spears, and swords aloft, the Martial Alliance’s intent was unmistakable.
If you make a single reckless move, we will never let it pass.
Whether that resolve had been fully conveyed or not, the expressions of Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood, seated on the driver’s bench, were tense to the brim.
Of course, when the stopped carriage door opened and Yul Han stepped down, his expression remained as calm as ever, giving no hint of what he might be thinking.
“I am Jegal Giyeon, Strategist of the Martial Alliance. I ask that you understand our position—we cannot truly welcome you.”
At the greeting of the elderly man in scholar’s robes standing before the fiercely glaring warriors, Yul Han calmly nodded.
“It is a pleasure. I wish to meet your Alliance Leader. Would that be possible?”
“He is waiting. I will guide you at once.”
The moment Yul Han obediently followed Jegal Giyeon’s words, Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood moved to follow behind him.
Scrape.
They did not draw their weapons, but a considerable number of warriors shifted, blocking the two men’s path.
Seeing the instant hardening of Cold Blade Blood’s and Flashing Light Blood’s expressions, Jegal Giyeon hurriedly stepped forward.
“The Alliance Leader is waiting alone.”
In other words, he was to go alone as well.
Frankly, it was an absurd demand. It was no different from asking the Vice Cult Leader to move alone in the very heart of enemy territory.
Just as Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood were about to voice their opposition, Yul Han nodded.
“In that case, it is only right that I go alone. Please wait here for a moment.”
The two could not readily accept Yul Han’s words, but the instant they met his eyes—coolly settling into icy stillness—they had no choice but to bow their heads.
“Please… be careful.”
At Cold Blade Blood’s reluctant words, Yul Han gave a faint smile in response and turned away. His expression remained so calm that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
As Jegal Giyeon moved to guide him, Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood were left behind with the carriage, surrounded by hundreds of Martial Alliance experts.
Passing through the door and walking down the long corridor were only two figures: Jegal Giyeon, who led the way, and Yul Han following behind him.
It seemed the Martial Alliance truly intended a private meeting between the Alliance Leader and the Vice Cult Leader, for they had left the long corridor completely empty—one where it would not have been strange for an ambush to be concealed.
Yul Han noticed this as well while walking.
He sensed neither the leaking aura of hidden warriors nor even the presence of working maids or servants.
After walking for a short while, Jegal Giyeon stopped in front of a door.
“He is waiting inside.”
Yul Han nodded at Jegal Giyeon’s words and stepped forward. The door opened. After dipping his head slightly in thanks to Jegal Giyeon, who had opened it for him, Yul Han entered through the open doorway.
“Welcome.”
A senior monk with white eyebrows and a smoothly shaven head greeted Yul Han as he entered the room.
“Please, come in. This humble monk is called Faith Void, and I am temporarily entrusted with the Martial Alliance despite my lacking abilities.”
Yul Han calmly returned the greeting to the Shaolin Divine Monk, who introduced himself with a Buddhist name meaning one who harbors no desire even for faith.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Yul Han of the Bright Cult. Thank you for agreeing to what must have been a difficult meeting.”
“There is nothing to thank me for. Frankly speaking, it was simply not a situation I could refuse.”
With those frank words, the Shaolin Divine Monk gestured toward the empty seat across from him. When Yul Han sat, the monk also returned to his seat.
Having dismissed all attendants, the Shaolin Divine Monk personally brewed tea and filled the cup placed before Yul Han. Then he quietly asked,
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“I ask because this matter does not align with the course of action the Vice Cult Leader has shown in the past.”
“Was it bad that it was different?”
After tossing out the question, Yul Han indifferently lifted the teacup and drank. The Shaolin Divine Monk watched him silently.
Accepting and drinking tea offered by the enemy in the heart of hostile territory required more resolve than one might think.
Seeing the Vice Cult Leader do so without the slightest hesitation, the monk thought him more audacious than expected and replied,
“How could it be bad? Others may not have considered it, but had the Vice Cult Leader acted as before, everyone who would have been included in the Martial Alliance’s execution force would have been found as corpses by now. The fact that this did not happen alone is, to this humble monk, a relief.”
Not only that—Pointchang, merely for being the Nine Sects closest to the site where the Martial Alliance’s execution force was attacked, would have been turned into a sea of blood.
But by a stroke of immense fortune, such things did not occur.
Losing the Taiji Sword Emperor was a tragedy beyond measure, but as the Shaolin Divine Monk said, everything else was undeniably fortunate for the Martial Alliance.
Thus, it could only be called fortunate.
At the monk’s reply, Yul Han asked,
“Then why ask why I did it?”
“If so, what do you think this humble monk should have asked?”
“I thought you would ask what I intended to do from now on.”
“What I intend to do…?”
Murmuring Yul Han’s words and turning them over in his mind, the Shaolin Divine Monk straightened his gaze and asked,
“Then, what do you intend to do from now on?”
To the Shaolin Divine Monk’s question, Yul Han replied,
“If it is accepted, I will withdraw. If it is refused, then….”