Clatter, clatter.
Bu Eunseol and Black Leopard were riding in a carriage rented by Yoo Hwaryeong, leaving the village behind. During the journey to their destination, Yoo Hwaryeong shared many stories.
The Thousand Swords Society and the Nangyang Pavilion had much in common. Both pursued boundless martial arts and eschewed pretentious formalities.
“Now you owe me an answer,” Bu Eunseol said as they finally reached Geumjeongsan, where the Thousand Swords Society’s gathering was to be held. “Why did the Thousand Swords Society send people into the martial world to find prodigies? What specific conditions were they looking for?”
From the moment Bu Eunseol first met Yoo Hwaryeong, he had sensed they were searching for prodigies with “specific conditions.”
If the Thousand Swords Society was seeking exceptional talents to pass down their sword techniques, regardless of righteous or unorthodox affiliations, simply spreading word of such an opportunity would have drawn countless candidates. The unprecedented condition of accepting candidates from any faction, righteous or demonic, was almost unthinkable.
“Alright, I’ll tell you,” Yoo Hwaryeong said, letting out a brief sigh. “As I mentioned before, this gathering was organized by the Second Seat, Master Seok Song, and my master, the Seventh Seat, Elder Woo Hak.”
Seok Song and Woo Hak were legendary masters of the previous generation who had roamed the martial world alone.
“The sword technique was created by the two of them after much deliberation. The problem is, not only could none of the assembly’s disciples master it, but even the two creators themselves couldn’t.”
Bu Eunseol couldn’t comprehend this. How could the creators of a sword technique be unable to master it? That would mean they had crafted a technique that existed only in theory.
“Of course, it’s not a fictional technique,” Yoo Hwaryeong clarified. “It simply requires one specific condition to unleash its full power.”
“What condition?” Bu Eunseol asked.
Yoo Hwaryeong gave a bitter smile. “Killing intent.” Letting out a deep sigh, he continued, “To fully wield the sword technique they created, one must possess an innate, overwhelming killing intent.”
Black Leopard, puzzled, asked, “Why would they create such a technique? Did they have enemies to eliminate?”
“I don’t know the reason,” Yoo Hwaryeong replied. “Only the two of them would know.” Bu Eunseol didn’t take Yoo Hwaryeong’s words at face value.
Who in their right mind would pass down an ultimate martial art to just anyone? There had to be a deeper reason or condition behind it.
Creak. The carriage came to a stop.
Before them stood a gentle mountain, its peak bathed in the light of the setting sun—Geumjeongsan.
“You’ll stay here until the process is complete,” Yoo Hwaryeong said, pointing to a large building at the mountain’s base and addressing Black Leopard. “You won’t face any inconvenience while waiting.”
“Understood. Oh, and…” Black Leopard leaned in, whispering as if recalling something. “Last night, while the young master was out, a message came from Leader. Everything you requested has been completed as of yesterday.”
“Good,” Bu Eunseol said with a nod.
Black Leopard clasped his hands and said, “I wish you martial fortune, young master.”
Following Yoo Hwaryeong up the mountainside, they reached a massive iron gate. It appeared to be an artificial structure built using intricate mechanisms.
“Is this the main stronghold of the Thousand Swords Society?” Bu Eunseol asked.
Yoo Hwaryeong shook his head. “No. This is just one of the secret locations maintained by the assembly. Its hidden mechanisms make it ideal for passing down sword techniques.” Judging by the depth in his eyes, it seemed Yoo Hwaryeong had also received training here.
Noticing Bu Eunseol’s expression, Yoo Hwaryeong looked slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t have the aptitude to learn that technique. In fact, most of the assembly’s disciples didn’t.”
Shaking his head as if to dispel lingering thoughts, he continued, “Enough idle talk. Before we enter, put this on.”
In his hand was a rabbit mask that completely covered the face.
“Wear it until you leave Geumjeongsan. And inside, don’t reveal your name to anyone.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“The Thousand Swords Society wants to find exceptional prodigies, not to watch righteous and unorthodox factions tear each other apart,” Yoo Hwaryeong explained.
“Hmm.” Understanding his intent, Bu Eunseol nodded.
Inside that building, numerous masters from both righteous and unorthodox factions, brought by the assembly’s disciples, would be gathered. Some might hold grudges against one another.
“Quite meticulous,” Bu Eunseol remarked.
“Heh, gathering prodigies regardless of faction isn’t an easy task,” Yoo Hwaryeong replied, donning a rabbit mask himself. “Go inside first. I’ll follow shortly.”
Entering, Bu Eunseol saw a long corridor lit by lanterns.
Following the path, he reached a wide clearing with a bluestone floor, about thirty paces across. Around thirty martial artists, all masked, stood there, and a high altar was set up at the far end.
Some must have brought multiple people, Bu Eunseol thought, noticing several individuals wearing identical masks. Since each disciple of the Thousand Swords Society likely brought multiple candidates, this explained the repetition.
That man…
As Bu Eunseol scanned the martial artists, his eyes flashed upon seeing a man in a fox mask. Tall and sturdy, dressed in yellow robes with a leather pouch at his waist—it was Tang Gon.
“Well, well,” Tang Gon, also recognizing Bu Eunseol despite the rabbit mask, let out a soft exclamation. “So you were invited here too.” His low voice carried a tinge of bitterness.
Not long ago, Bu Eunseol had rejected his offer of friendship.
“Because we might end up crossing blades.”
When selecting candidates to teach martial arts, sparring is often used as a test. Now that they were competitors for the Thousand Swords Society’s technique, the possibility of clashing had indeed arisen.
Boom. A door at the far end of the altar opened, and two elderly men in white robes, looking like immortals, appeared.
They were the masters leading this gathering: Seok Song, the Second Seat, and Woo Hak, the Seventh Seat of the Thousand Swords Society.
“Greetings,” Seok Song said calmly. “I am Seok Song, holding the second seat of this assembly.”
The elderly man beside him spoke, “I am Woo Hak, holding the seventh seat.”
Seok Song and Woo Hak were legendary masters of the previous generation, renowned for dominating the martial world alone. After joining the Thousand Swords Society, they had vanished from public view—until now, to pass down their newly created sword technique.
“You’ve likely heard on the way here,” Seok Song began, “but we have combined our efforts over many years to create a single sword technique.”
Glancing at Seok Song, Woo Hak said with a bitter expression, “However, this technique requires an innate, intense killing intent to master. Unfortunately, none of our disciples possessed such a trait.”
Looking at the thirty or so martial artists below the altar, Woo Hak continued, “So we sent our disciples into the martial world to find prodigies capable of learning this technique—prodigies with an innate abundance of killing intent.”
Some martial artists looked puzzled. Among those gathered were not only demonic figures but also many who appeared to be righteous masters.
“Killing intent is merely a trait,” Seok Song said with a smile, sensing their thoughts. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re from the righteous or unorthodox factions. It would be absurd for our assembly, which exists between both worlds, to care about such distinctions.”
At this, the expressions of the martial artists in the stone chamber brightened. They had been skeptical of the Thousand Swords Society’s offer, but it was true—they would pass down their supreme technique regardless of faction.
“Then does that mean everyone here will receive the technique?” asked a man in a bear mask, carrying twin swords on his back, in a loud voice.
“Of course not,” Woo Hak replied calmly. “We must confirm who can master this technique. We’ll select through a test.”
“A sparring match?” the man asked.
“Far from it,” Woo Hak said. “We’re here to teach a sword technique, not to judge the strength of your martial arts. If you pass the trials we set, we’ll pass down the technique.”
The fox-masked Tang Gon spoke up. “If everyone here passes the trials, will you teach us all?”
“That’s unlikely, but if it happens, yes, we’ll teach everyone,” Woo Hak said, then added solemnly, “But we will never pass it down to evildoers.”
Seok Song stepped forward, his eyes glinting. “If any of you have killed innocent civilians, leave this place immediately.”
His voice, infused with inner energy, resounded like a crow cawing under a gray sky, eerie and ominous. “If such a person remains here once the trials begin, death awaits.”
Silence fell over the stone chamber. No one left.
“There are no evildoers who have killed innocent civilians,” said a man in a lion mask standing at the back, likely a disciple of the Thousand Swords Society. “Those tasked with this mission were experienced disciples who know their masters’ strict nature. They wouldn’t have brought evildoers in the first place.”
“I see,” Seok Song said.
Suddenly, he moved with lightning speed.
Whoosh.
Seok Song’s body, like a white cloud, appeared in front of a man in a ghost mask standing to Bu Eunseol’s left.
“What?” the man exclaimed.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Seok Song asked.
“What are you talking about? I’m no evildoer,” the man protested.
A disciple of the Thousand Swords Society, also wearing a ghost mask, stepped forward, waving his hand. “He’s called half-righteous, half-evil, so he’s not exactly pure, but he’s never killed an innocent—”
“This man slaughtered thirteen innocent civilians in Jinan, spilling their blood,” Seok Song said in a grave tone. “He was meticulous in covering his tracks and eliminated all witnesses, so it never came to light…”
Flash! The ghost-masked man struck with lightning speed, his attack sudden and unpredictably swift.
Thud. But his sword stopped short of Seok Song’s throat.
“…” Silence gripped the chamber.
Seok Song, staring at the ghost-masked man, suddenly turned and ascended the altar as if nothing had happened.
Spurt!
A fountain of blood erupted from the man’s neck. Seok Song had used a sword strike several times faster than the man’s, severing his carotid artery.
As the whoosh of the strike faded, the ghost-masked man collapsed with a thud.
“Let me say it again: we will not pass down the technique to evildoers,” Seok Song declared, his voice echoing through the chamber.
This time, Woo Hak’s eyes flashed.
Whoosh.
Moving with a blindingly fast technique, he appeared in front of Bu Eunseol, who wore a rabbit mask.
“You killed a renowned righteous hero for no reason, didn’t you?” Woo Hak accused.
Yoo Hwaryeong, standing behind in his own rabbit mask, leapt forward. “He wasn’t an innocent civilian! Besides, it happened during a fair duel!”
“Not so,” Woo Hak retorted. “According to our information, this man had the skill to subdue his opponent but deliberately killed him.”
Yoo Hwaryeong fell silent, as if struck dumb.
It was true. If Bu Eunseol could kill Yang Myeong in a single strike, he could have handled someone like Yeop Hwa with a flick of his finger.
Woo Hak glared at Bu Eunseol through the rabbit mask with a terrifying gaze. “Killing a righteous hero who did good deeds is no different from killing an innocent civilian.”
The situation teetered on the edge. As Woo Hak’s hand moved toward his sword—
Bu Eunseol suddenly burst into laughter.
“Hahaha!”
Comments