Episode 213: Wuchang
“Please, let go of Jung Dae-hyup.”
“That’s a ridiculous request.”
The middle-aged man wearing a straw hat dismissed Hyun Gong’s plea as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Jung Taeryeong struggled to free himself from the man’s grip, but it was futile.
Watching the scene unfold, Dang Mujin pondered.
‘Is his martial prowess at the peak of perfection? Or perhaps even beyond? It’s hard to tell. At least he’s not being overly cruel.’
In the martial world, if a novice attacks a master without recognizing their skill, they often pay with their life. As long as there are witnesses and evidence, even righteous sects don’t make a big deal out of such deaths.
Considering the level of the master they attacked, getting away with just a broken wrist was a bargain.
‘But who is this man?’
Dang Mujin couldn’t identify the man in the straw hat. Nor could he fathom why someone of such skill would need the powerful Rainstorm Needle.
The Rainstorm Needle was indeed a formidable weapon. But someone of his caliber shouldn’t fear or need it. A sword would be far more effective.
At that moment, Hyun Gong addressed the man in the straw hat.
“Are you, by any chance, the Blood Rain Guest?”
The man’s jaw tensed beneath the hat.
As soon as the man, now identified as the Blood Rain Guest, leaned forward, Dang Mujin lost sight of him. In the brief moment his focus wavered, the Blood Rain Guest vanished from view.
However, Hyun Gong didn’t lose track. He swiftly drew his sword, positioning the blade horizontally.
A metallic clang echoed. The Blood Rain Guest’s sword was suddenly blocked by Hyun Gong’s.
“Swinging your sword without warning—you’re quite impatient.”
Hyun Gong replied as calmly and respectfully as he could, though his tension was evident. The Blood Rain Guest’s speed and swordsmanship were that impressive.
It was only after witnessing the Blood Rain Guest’s movements and strikes that Dang Mujin was certain. The Blood Rain Guest was indeed in the realm of the transcendent.
Yet, he still didn’t know who the Blood Rain Guest was.
There are six transcendent masters in the righteous sects.
Namgung Jincheon, the Sword Demon of the Namgung family.
The divine monk of Shaolin.
The wandering sage of the Beggars’ Sect.
The supreme master of Wudang, Young Bojin.
The ethereal master of Qingcheng.
And Yujin Kwang of the Jeomchang Sect, who rose to prominence by defeating the Wuliang Sect.
Dang Mujin had met all of them except for the ethereal master of Qingcheng.
And the Blood Rain Guest didn’t seem to be the ethereal master. Meaning he wasn’t one of the six transcendent masters of the righteous sects.
That left three possibilities.
He could be from the demonic sect, an unorthodox martial artist, or someone like the Flame Spirit, who exists between the two worlds.
‘Given that he hasn’t killed anyone outright, he might be someone who walks the line between right and wrong.’
The Blood Rain Guest spoke to Hyun Gong with a voice tinged with anger.
“Whoever told you my nickname didn’t mention that I despise it, did they?”
“I heard rumors.”
“If you knew and still said it, then you’re not thinking straight.”
“That’s not the case. This is exactly the situation I wanted.”
While Hyun Gong kept the Blood Rain Guest engaged in conversation, Namgung Myung discreetly moved to rescue Jung Taeryeong, the innkeeper, and the inn’s staff. Fortunately, the innkeeper and staff were only unconscious, not dead.
With those three, along with Jung Okryeong and Wang Jincheong, Dang Mujin and Namgung Myung evacuated everyone who couldn’t participate in the impending fight from the inn.
The Blood Rain Guest chuckled dryly.
“Fine. You’re not as thoughtless as I assumed. But that’s only if you can handle what comes next.”
“I won’t go down easily.”
Dang Mujin whispered to Namgung Myung.
“Who is that man?”
“The Blood Rain Guest is a transcendent master of the unorthodox sects. He hides his face with a straw hat and roams alone without forming a group. He’s known for his unmatched speed and swift swordsmanship among the unorthodox.”
“Unorthodox?”
“Yes.”
Dang Mujin realized belatedly.
Wuchang is a city by the Yangtze River, and south of the river is a stronghold for unorthodox martial artists. It wasn’t surprising for one to appear here.
Yet, Dang Mujin couldn’t help but wonder why the Blood Rain Guest disliked his nickname.
It was distinctive and powerful, a name that Dang Mujin found quite impressive. After all, there were people with far stranger nicknames in the world.
The Blood Rain Guest lowered his sword.
“I’ll teach you some manners.”
In the next instant, Hyun Gong deftly parried the Blood Rain Guest’s sword three times, twisting the angle of his own blade. It was a speed that only someone like Hyun Gong could manage to block.
The crucial point was that the Blood Rain Guest exposed a small opening after those three strikes.
Namgung Myung, Dang Mujin, and Hong Geolgae seized the opportunity, launching their attacks at the Blood Rain Guest.
Two swords and a staff simultaneously targeted the upper, middle, and lower sections of the Blood Rain Guest, as if they had planned it.
But the Blood Rain Guest, just as he had approached Hyun Gong, tilted his body in a bizarre manner, showcasing his strange movement technique. The trio’s attacks sliced through empty air.
The Blood Rain Guest muttered.
“So, you all want a lesson too?”
“Do you think we’d let a friend die?”
”…A friend.”
For some reason, Dang Mujin sensed that the Blood Rain Guest was angry.
The Blood Rain Guest unleashed a more ferocious barrage of sword strikes at Dang Mujin’s group.
Each member blocked what they could. But in precarious moments, Hyun Gong would extend his sword to intercept the Blood Rain Guest’s attacks.
Even focusing solely on defense was challenging, so Hyun Gong never got a chance to counterattack the Blood Rain Guest.
Instead, Namgung Myung focused minimally on defense, launching attacks at the Blood Rain Guest in Hyun Gong’s stead.
The Blood Rain Guest seemed to find Namgung Myung’s sword threatening, avoiding direct clashes whenever possible.
The Blood Rain Guest muttered.
“Taiji Sword and Imperial Sword Form, huh. What about the other two?”
Unlike Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong, who swung their swords relentlessly, Dang Mujin sheathed his sword. He hadn’t forgotten that his greatest strength wasn’t his swordsmanship.
Dang Mujin intended to take on the offensive role like Namgung Myung, but there was a significant difference between them.
While Namgung Myung handled his own minimal defense, Dang Mujin entrusted all his defense, even his life, to Hyun Gong.
Dang Mujin’s palms faced the ceiling.
It was a stance not found in any martial arts manual, leaving the Blood Rain Guest unable to predict Dang Mujin’s intentions. Of course, Dang Mujin wasn’t planning to use any conventional martial arts.
‘This isn’t the time to hold back.’
Dang Mujin’s fingers pointed towards the ten needles Jung Taeryeong had fired. The needles, as thin as silk threads and as light as feathers, floated into the air.
Dang Mujin’s long fingers danced gracefully, guiding the needles like insects through the air, seeking the Blood Rain Guest’s vulnerabilities.
Even the Blood Rain Guest, who had been handling Hyun Gong and Namgung Myung with ease, was taken aback by Dang Mujin’s skill. In all his experience, he had never encountered someone who fought like this.
The Blood Rain Guest’s expression grew serious.
Determined to end the fight quickly, he employed even more dazzling and rapid movement techniques, searching for openings in Dang Mujin’s group.
Naturally, most of his attacks targeted Dang Mujin. Neutralizing the most threatening opponent first is a fundamental rule of combat.
Yet, the Blood Rain Guest’s sword rarely reached Dang Mujin.
Hyun Gong, specialized in defense, Namgung Myung, whose sword could threaten even transcendent masters, and Dang Mujin, who constantly moved the needles to distract and exploit openings.
The trio’s martial prowess was exceptional for their age. Their roles were clearly defined. It was almost believable that they formed a bizarre yet effective formation.
At that moment, the Blood Rain Guest felt a strong sense of unease.
One person. There was one who seemed out of place.
’…Then what role does that Beggars’ Sect member play?’
Compared to the others, his skills seemed lacking.
Which made him all the more suspicious. There was no way someone like that would be part of the group without a reason.
Moreover, the occasional thrust of his staff was quite threatening. The stance he sometimes took, reminiscent of the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, was also unsettling.
‘Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms… Is he one of the wandering sage’s disciples? That’s troublesome.’
As he continued to swing his sword, the Blood Rain Guest noticed a peculiar scent wafting into his nostrils. A scent of herbs that didn’t belong in the inn.
‘Poison.’
Even if he could somehow dodge the needles constantly seeking his openings, there was no way to avoid the poison filling the inn.
The cramped inn was already uncomfortable. Like most rapid movement techniques, the Blood Rain Guest’s Shadowless Flying Technique couldn’t fully shine in such a confined space.
The Blood Rain Guest glanced at the door leading outside. Dang Mujin’s group was blocking the entrance as if by agreement.
‘They’re using tricks.’
Without hesitation, the Blood Rain Guest swung his sword at the wall beside the door. The wooden wall of the inn was cut into a square, creating a small exit. The Blood Rain Guest immediately dashed outside.
“What? Did he run away?”
“Don’t just stand there, follow him!”
If it had been just the four of them, Dang Mujin’s group might not have bothered to chase the Blood Rain Guest.
However, the situation was different now. Outside the inn stood the Jeong siblings and Wang Jincheong.
“Surely, they wouldn’t take hostages, would they?”
Fortunately, it seemed the Blood Rain Guest had no intention of taking hostages. As Tang Mujin and his companions emerged after the Blood Rain Guest, the crowd that had gathered around the inn erupted in cheers.
There’s hardly anything more entertaining than watching a fight, especially when it’s between people who can slice through the inn’s walls as if they were made of tofu.
As Tang Mujin and his group appeared, the Blood Rain Guest launched another attack, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
He seemed to strike from the front, only to appear from behind, his sword’s trajectory twisting bizarrely, leaving thin lines of blood on the skin.
“Damn it!”
The Blood Rain Guest toyed with Tang Mujin’s group, his overwhelming martial prowess on full display.
Even in situations where he could have easily pierced a throat, he left only a light scratch on the neck, and when he could have severed an arm, he inflicted only a moderate wound.
Yet, he seemed to have enough leisure to whisper taunts into the ears of Namgung Myeong and Hyeon Gong.
“Feeling awake now? Starting to regret your little antics?”
“Shut up!”
The situation was so precarious that Tang Mujin had to abandon half of his acupuncture needles and raise his sword with his right hand for defense. They had survived so far because the Blood Rain Guest hadn’t been serious about killing them, but they couldn’t count on his mercy forever.
After all, wasn’t the Blood Rain Guest a notorious rogue martial artist?
Once Tang Mujin drew his sword, the Blood Rain Guest found it harder to press his advantage against the group.
Their defense was quite solid, forcing the Blood Rain Guest to circle them like a cat playing with a hedgehog, searching for an opening.
But Tang Mujin and his companions knew the outcome was nearly decided. A cat might eventually find a hedgehog’s weak spot, but the hedgehog’s quills would never pierce the cat’s heart. Their attacks couldn’t break through the Blood Rain Guest’s superior movement techniques.
Yet, the onlookers around the inn didn’t realize Tang Mujin’s group was losing. To them, the fight seemed evenly matched.
The crowd watched with mouths agape, marveling at the spectacle.
People often admired the duels at martial arts tournaments, but this was on a whole different level. The recent tournaments they’d found so thrilling now seemed like child’s play.
Even a layperson could see the vast difference in skill.
“The swordsman with the straw hat… It’s the Blood Rain Guest!”
Many recognized him. For those living near Wuchang, where rogue martial artists were not uncommon, the combination of his unparalleled movement skills and distinctive hat was unmistakable.
The crowd’s attention shifted from the Blood Rain Guest to Tang Mujin’s group.
“If that’s the Blood Rain Guest, he’s a top-tier master! How can those three young martial artists hold their own against him?”
“They all look so young. Why didn’t they enter the tournament?”
“Who knows.”
Tang Mujin’s group overheard the crowd and realized something.
“Three young martial artists?”
One was missing. Even though the fight had moved outside, Hong Geolgae hadn’t emerged from the inn.
“What is he doing in there?”
Just then, Hong Geolgae appeared, opening the inn’s door. His eyes were slightly unfocused, and he reeked of alcohol.
The Blood Rain Guest looked at Hong Geolgae with disbelief. He hadn’t intended to kill anyone here, but he wasn’t about to let such insolence go unpunished.
“Maybe I’ll take an arm.”
The Blood Rain Guest tilted his body, preparing to unleash his shadowless blood technique.
Hong Geolgae had always been able to see himself objectively. In truth, he didn’t need to. It had been years since his friends had left him behind, moving forward without him.
Yet, they never looked at him with disdain.
They always included him, teasing him whenever they got the chance.
Contrary to what others might think, Hong Geolgae knew their teasing was a form of care.
The moment someone with an inferiority complex truly suffers isn’t when they’re being teased.
It’s when others, afraid of causing hurt, fall silent. That’s when the heart truly gets wounded.
But even his friends’ care wasn’t enough. Over time, Hong Geolgae felt himself shrinking.
He likened himself to the bitter fruit, the yanfuzi, often thrown in for free with a purchase of ripe fruit.
In Juul Village, he wasn’t much help to the villagers, nor was he of much use on his friends’ journey.
Even while staying at the Tang family clinic, he played no significant role. No one expected anything from him. He never had to accomplish anything. It was always like that.
But Hong Geolgae knew this couldn’t last forever.
He had reached the wall of mastery a bit slower than his friends, but faster than most ordinary people.
Yet, he felt he was slowly retreating rather than standing still.
This wasn’t a problem that could be solved by learning more techniques or accumulating more internal energy.
Hong Geolgae understood that before too much time passed, one had to take a gamble. And he knew he was lucky.
But luck doesn’t guarantee victory in every game of dice. Out of ten throws, you might win six times, but you have to accept four losses. Fearful of those losses, Hong Geolgae had avoided the game altogether.
But now, he had to move forward.
Hong Geolgae discarded his staff.
It was a fine weapon, too precious for someone like him.
But what Hong Geolgae needed now wasn’t a sturdy weapon. What mattered was a single strike that could catch an overwhelmingly skilled opponent off guard.
To achieve that, Hong Geolgae surrendered himself to the intoxication.
Even amidst the haze of alcohol, he focused all his strength.
“No, this isn’t it.”
With a short sigh, Hong Geolgae relaxed his entire body.
If focus had been the goal, he wouldn’t have drunk. He sought a hazy balance between intense concentration and the looseness of intoxication.
He surrendered to the vague optimism unique to the inebriated, free from obsession and fear.
Hong Geolgae staggered toward his friends.
He took three steps forward, then stumbled a step back. At times, it seemed he might lose his balance and fall.
But everywhere his feet landed, he saw the footprints of the master, Damjeong Seonsa. The faint marks left in the soil without breaking the flower stalks of the helancho.
Amidst his unsteady steps, Hong Geolgae discovered a path. A path hidden in the realm of pure instinct, beyond the reach of reason.
But at the end of that path, there was nothing. It wasn’t a metaphor. The path literally ended in emptiness.
Yet Hong Geolgae decided to reach for it.
“Whatever happens, happens.”
His hand reached out toward the void. Could a single gesture break down a wall, like a small hole collapsing a dam? He didn’t know.
At that moment, the Blood Rain Guest’s form flickered into view.
Hong Geolgae thought the Blood Rain Guest’s hand might cut through his path. It wouldn’t be life-threatening, but it could easily take an arm.
His fingertips recoiled in fear, but then, with reckless optimism, they extended again.
“If I don’t reach the end of this path, I’ll regret it forever. Losing an arm doesn’t matter.”
He had a friend who was always cheerful despite having one arm. Friends who accepted that as normal. Whether there was one one-armed person or two in the group didn’t make much difference. So Hong Geolgae wasn’t afraid.
Confidence filled his fingertips.
His hand deftly curved sideways along the path he had seen earlier.
Where there had been nothing when he started the move, now the Blood Rain Guest’s chest was there. It was as if the Blood Rain Guest had leapt into Hong Geolgae’s outstretched hand. The Blood Rain Guest’s eyes widened in surprise.
He twisted his body too late to completely avoid Hong Geolgae’s palm. Hong Geolgae felt the solid, heavy sensation against his hand, the feeling of breaking through a wall.
The intoxication enveloped him. His limbs tingled, and a shiver ran down his spine.
The years of pent-up frustration in Hong Geolgae’s heart washed away.
“Did you see that? Did you see? I finally did it!”
He shouted in exhilaration.
But his friends’ reactions were far from reassuring.
“Hey, you idiot! Watch out! To your side!”
Hong Geolgae turned to look. The Blood Rain Guest, having twisted to avoid a fatal blow, was already recovering and charging again.
As the scabbard in the Blood Rain Guest’s left hand swung, Hong Geolgae felt a dull pain at the back of his neck.
He fainted with a look of triumph on his face.