Episode 267: Overlapping Shadows

As Tang Mujin and his companions recounted their experiences, some of the martial artists were more impressed by the audacity of their actions than the story itself.

“So, you didn’t just stop at Pyeongryang County but went all the way to the Gongdong Sect?”

“Truly courageous. A fine example for young martial artists.”

Initially, they had advised against taking risks, suggesting only to gauge the situation. Yet, in a heartbeat, their attitude shifted to praise Tang Mujin’s group, as if they had secretly hoped for such a bold move.

“Well, considering the significant information they brought back, it’s no wonder they’re pleased.”

The other members of the Cheongseong Sect and Ilseonja grew serious.

“The Ghost King? I’ve heard that name before. You said he’s one of the six great masters of the Demonic Cult… Are you certain it was him?”

“I’ve seen him before, so there’s no mistaking it. I’m not the only one who recognizes his face.”

As Tang Mujin confirmed, Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myung chimed in.

“We encountered him a few years back. His martial prowess was far beyond ordinary, so it must be the Ghost King.”

“I see. This is no trivial matter.”

The martial artists fell into deep thought, no one eager to speak up. The atmosphere was tense, as if they might stay up all night pondering the situation. Finally, Gongryeongja of the Cheongseong Sect, someone Tang Mujin had met a few times due to his connection with Hwang Ryeongja of the Seongdobunta, stepped forward.

“There are two possibilities. Either the Demonic Cult is orchestrating this from the shadows, or the Ghost King has severed ties with them and joined the unorthodox sects. Both seem plausible.”

Many in the Demonic Cult were fugitives from justice. Those lacking skill often sought refuge there, but once they became powerful enough to survive on their own, they frequently left to join the unorthodox sects. The Demonic Cult’s austere and quiet atmosphere was often stifling for the spirited martial artists, leading many to discreetly defect once they reached a certain level of mastery. At that point, they could make a name for themselves in the unorthodox sects. For someone like the Ghost King, known for his indulgence in pleasures, it wouldn’t be difficult to enjoy a life of luxury there.

As the group remained lost in thought, Tang Mujin took it upon himself to clarify the situation.

“It doesn’t matter which it is.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s no way to know for sure right now, and regardless of the Ghost King’s situation, the orthodox sects’ response won’t change. They didn’t occupy the Gongdong Sect for any noble purpose.”

Tang Mujin looked around. The others nodded slightly, acknowledging his point.

“You won’t let the Ghost King and the unorthodox sects hold the Gongdong Sect. So, there’s only one course of action. We return to the Jongnam Sect, gather our forces, and reclaim the Gongdong Sect. Isn’t that right?”

“Indeed.”

With Tang Mujin’s explanation and Yeongheoja’s agreement, the tension eased. The martial artists settled down, some sitting, others lying down, closing their eyes.

It took the group two full days to reach the Jongnam Sect. Their pace was astonishingly fast, but none among them lacked the martial prowess to endure such a grueling march.

“Wow, it’s impressive.”

Tang Mujin and his companions marveled at the view of the Jongnam Mountains. The terrain wasn’t particularly rugged, but the scenery was as beautiful as any famous mountain. The vibrant spring atmosphere added to its charm, making it a place one could spend all day exploring.

“Let’s go.”

However, Ilseonja, lacking the luxury of time, led the group decisively toward the Jongnam Sect.

The buildings of the Jongnam Sect were not so much old as they were venerable, with an elegance that only aged structures possess. Hyeongong gazed at the moss-covered stone lanterns and the ancient buildings with a hint of envy.

Despite the serene appearance of the buildings, the Jongnam Sect was bustling with people, reminiscent of a busy marketplace. This was because martial artists from three neighboring sects had gathered there: the Jongnam Sect, the Hwasan Sect, and even the Wudang Sect.

Yet, the bustling atmosphere quieted as Ilseonja, the Cheongseong Sect members, and Tang Mujin’s group arrived. A Jongnam Sect disciple approached Ilseonja, who gave a firm command.

“Gather everyone at the Sword Sage Hall.”

The disciple hurried off, and soon a deep, resonant bell tolled.

Tang Mujin whispered to Hyeongong.

“What is the Sword Sage Hall?”

“It’s where the head of the Jongnam Sect resides, I think. I’ve never been there myself.”

Most of the Cheongseong Sect members were led elsewhere by the Jongnam Sect disciples. Only Ilseonja, a few top martial artists, and Tang Mujin’s group headed to the Sword Sage Hall, with Namgung Myung leading the way.

Ilseonja, walking a bit behind, asked Namgung Myung.

“Namgung, have you been to the Jongnam Sect before?”

Namgung Myung hesitated.

“Not exactly. Why do you ask?”

“You seem to know exactly where the Sword Sage Hall is, walking so confidently.”

Namgung Myung had only been to the Jongnam Sect once, when he snuck in to steal the Sword Sage Yeodongbin’s sword. Unable to reveal this, he quickly improvised.

“It’s just a hunch. I have a feeling the Sword Sage Hall is this way.”

It wasn’t a convincing explanation, but before Ilseonja’s suspicion could take shape, Hyeongong interjected.

“By observing the direction of people’s gazes and footsteps, one can often deduce the correct path. And even if a foolish junior were to stray, surely the esteemed seniors of the martial world would guide them back. What is there to fear?”

Hyeongong’s remarkable ability was his knack for delivering such polished words without a moment’s hesitation. His explanation sounded reasonable and cleverly included a touch of flattery.

Ilseonja, forgetting any doubts, praised Namgung Myung and Hyeongong.

“With such wise and bold juniors, the future of the Namgung family and the Wudang Sect is indeed bright. People are the greatest asset, after all.”

“You’re too kind.”

As they conversed, the group arrived at the Sword Sage Hall. It was a spacious area where more than a dozen people could sit, with an old sword hanging at the far end—the sword of the Sword Sage Yeodongbin.

As they waited, chatting quietly, others began to arrive, drawn by the sound of the bell. Members of the Hwasan Sect, the Wudang Sect, and even the head of the Gongdong Sect, Sanggwadoin, appeared. Although the Wudang Sect’s Yeongbojin was absent, an unexpected guest was present: a plump beggar, Daepunggae Paengcheon, Hong Geolgae’s master.

Daepunggae smiled faintly at Hong Geolgae. Once everyone was seated, Ilseonja, sitting cross-legged, began the meeting.

“Let’s start the meeting. The agenda is simple: reclaim the Gongdong Sect and punish the unorthodox sects.”

The meeting concluded with a straightforward decision. The martial artists gathered at the Jongnam Sect would move out the next day to confront the unorthodox sects occupying the Gongdong Sect. Further discussions would follow based on the outcome.

As the crowd dispersed, Daepunggae approached Hong Geolgae.

“It’s been a while.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Master.”

“I sensed a significant encounter might happen, though I wasn’t sure. Even if I hadn’t sensed it, I would have come for an important message.”

Daepunggae hadn’t come to join the fight but to deliver crucial news. Just as the unorthodox sects had taken over the Gongdong Sect in the northwest, they had also seized the Habuk Paeng family in the northeast. This was a significant indication of the unorthodox sects’ coordinated movements.

This news instilled a vague unease in Tang Mujin’s group and the Cheongseong Sect members. There was a fear that the unorthodox sects in the south might also mobilize. In the southwest of the central plains lay Sichuan, and in the southeast, the Namgung family. If the southern unorthodox sects moved, the Cheongseong Sect, the Tang family, and even the Namgung family could be in danger.

The decision to engage in battle the next day was partly to accommodate Tang Mujin’s group and the Cheongseong Sect members, but it was also for their own sake. If they delayed under the guise of preparation, and Tang Mujin’s group and the Cheongseong Sect members, unable to shake their unease, decided to leave, the Jongnam Sect would face an even tougher battle.

Daepunggae placed a thick arm around Hong Geolgae’s shoulder.

“Have you gained much experience?”

Hong Geolgae thought his master looked much older, with more gray hair than before. He replied confidently.

“I’ve been present at every significant event. I was there when Neung Gwanggeom reached the pinnacle, and when Manryeokseung surpassed the ultimate barrier.”

“And your own achievements?”

“My progress isn’t bad, but I feel a bit behind my friends. All three of them seem to have found the key to advancing to the next level.”

Honggeolge expected Daepunggae to offer some encouraging words like, “Your turn will come soon, so don’t be impatient,” but Daepunggae’s expression was far from cheerful.

“That’s not good.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Two new martial artists reaching the pinnacle—fine, that can happen. But your three friends already finding clues to the next level? That’s too fast, even for them.”

Honggeolge chuckled.

“Don’t worry. They’ve been warned not to stray from the right path. They’ll find their way without rushing.”

Yet Daepunggae’s face grew even more somber.

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what is it that’s troubling you?”

“I’m not talking about martial achievements. I’m speaking of the natural order and the world’s balance. Have you ever seen new leaves sprout on a branch, pushing the old ones out?”

Honggeolge wasn’t one to closely observe trees, but he knew this was an unusual analogy.

“Well, some trees might be like that, but usually, the old leaves wither and fall before new ones grow in spring.”

“Exactly. The old leaves make way for the new ones.”

It was a simple truth, so Honggeolge nodded silently.

Daepunggae continued.

“But people aren’t like that. People don’t know when to let go and fall away like leaves. They cling to the branch until the end. Yet time moves on, and new leaves must grow. Do you know what happens when too many old leaves hang on?”

Honggeolge thought for a moment, then shook his head.

”…I don’t know.”

Daepunggae’s stories were often straightforward, but his metaphors could be hard to grasp.

Knowing this, Daepunggae didn’t call his disciple foolish.

“A strong wind comes and blows the old leaves away. Then there’s room for new buds to grow, and the tree can flourish. That’s how growth happens, how generations change. It’s also the flow of the world.”

Now Honggeolge began to understand the story’s meaning.

“Are you saying the strong wind might be…?”

“It could be the upcoming war or the battle with the demonic cult that follows. But a harsh time will come, one strong enough to shake off the old leaves.”

Sensing the mood was getting too heavy, Daepunggae forced a cheerful laugh to lighten the atmosphere.

“But it’s not all bad. The new leaves that sprout in the cold wind will be greener than ever.”

Still, the mood remained peculiar.

In such moments, Daepunggae and Honggeolge would often find solace in a drink.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to go far to find some. The sound of sloshing liquor came from Honggeolge’s waist.

As Honggeolge reached for the bottle, Daepunggae waved him off.

“No, drinking among the sages would only make me self-conscious. Let’s step outside first.”

The two left the sect grounds and settled under a nearby tree.

This time, Daepunggae spoke.

“I’ve been rambling on about my concerns. Tell me what’s been happening with you.”

Honggeolge began his tale slowly.

He spoke of his travels to the northern lands, his encounters with the infamous Blood Rain Guest, and his stay at the Tang family manor.

His tone was bright and lively.

But Daepunggae noticed an unfamiliar name woven into the story as frequently as the names of Honggeolge’s three friends: Wang Jincheong.

“Wang Jincheong? Who’s that?”

“Oh, I must have skipped that part. He’s a kid who was held captive by the Sama family. He survived a near-death experience at a young age.”

Daepunggae rubbed his face wearily, but Honggeolge, slightly tipsy, didn’t notice his master’s gesture.

“Tell me more.”

“He survived the ordeal and, despite his young age, has developed significant inner strength. He’s talented and determined. Surprisingly smart for a beggar. In many ways, he’s better than me.”

Daepunggae’s breath quickened slightly.

It sounded like a master boasting about his disciple.

“Have you taken on a disciple?”

“Something like that. But he feels more like a younger brother. If the age gap were a bit wider, I might even think of him as a son.”

Honggeolge denied it, but Daepunggae thought his voice sounded defensive.

It meant Honggeolge sensed the unease in Daepunggae’s question.

Daepunggae muttered in a resigned tone.

“Jusan, it’s a double sprout… a double sprout.”

A double sprout, or 복아 (bok-a).

Two buds growing at once.

What kind of double sprout it would be was uncertain.

Both could thrive, or the later sprout might wither beneath the first.

Conversely, the first sprout might shield the second from storms, allowing only the latter to survive.

Daepunggae felt a sense of urgency.

“Jusan, about this Wang Jincheong—”

But Honggeolge interrupted him.

“No, it’s fine.”

Daepunggae looked at Honggeolge, who was smiling faintly.

“Master, we’ll part ways again tomorrow. For now, let’s just enjoy a drink. It’s not the best, but…”

Daepunggae glanced at the sky. It was still a bit early for drinking.

But that made it all the better. By the time they descended the mountain and started drinking, the timing would be just right.

Feigning dissatisfaction, Daepunggae remarked.

“Come to think of it, you’re offering your master the cheapest drink after all this time?”

“You’ve been drinking it just fine until now. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it.”

“Let’s go down. I’ll buy a round today.”

“What money do you have, Master?”

Daepunggae rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a tiny piece of silver. It wasn’t much compared to his abilities, but for a beggar, it was a decent sum.

“It’s not a fortune, but it’s enough for something better than this.”

Honggeolge chuckled and stood up.

As always, Daepunggae draped his thick right arm over Honggeolge’s shoulder.

“Let’s go!”

The two masters walked side by side.