WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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Chapter 137: The Rear Waves of the Yangtze Push the Front Waves (11)
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The time Yeon Sowol spent treating his internal injury and refining his Qiao Vessels through bodily cultivation was far longer than he had expected.
“Seven days and nights have passed?”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. This was bad!
He had thought it would take a day or two at most. Seven whole days and nights?
What about the martial arts tournament?
What was happening in Yuezhou?
Jin Geol was the one who calmed Yeon Sowol as his anxiety rose.
“Don’t worry. The martial arts tournament isn’t over yet.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There have been two matches so far, and both ended in draws.”
That was welcome news.
Then Yeon Sowol froze.
“Two draws? You mean Senior Jin Hyeogo and Senior Shin Si-ye?”
He recalled Jin Hyeogo’s divine might.
That heavy pressure settling over everything. The air turning thick and stifling. The black spearhead rushing right before his eyes before he even realized what was happening. Martial force pounding through his entire body like a hammer.
Even now, the memory sent chills down his spine.
Jin Hyeogo’s martial attainment was nearly at the absolute limit of the peak realm.
And Shin Si-ye had drawn with him? Twice?
It was astonishing.
They said the difference between men and women became meaningless once internal energy reached a high enough realm, but that also meant men held the advantage before reaching that realm.
Their starting lines were different.
Even if they eventually reached the same top speed, the one who accelerated faster at the start would naturally pull ahead.
Yet Shin Si-ye, more than ten years younger than Jin Hyeogo, had matched him?
Everyone nodded, their faces filled with awe and excitement.
“Everyone was shocked.”
“S-Senior Shin Si-ye was a master from the Sword Pavilion...”
The Sword Pavilion!
Yeon Sowol had heard of the sect as well. If he had heard of it, that meant it was renowned throughout the land.
The Sword Pavilion was another name for the Putuo Sect of the Southern Sea.
Beyond Zhejiang Province lay the Zhoushan Archipelago, where Mount Putuo stood.
Many women had become Buddhist nuns there, turning their backs on the secular world and shutting themselves away in deep hermitages.
This savage ancient China had been harsh even on grown men, but far crueler to children and women. In a way, it had been inevitable that they would gather on an island beyond the sea, then deep in the mountains of that island.
Unable to endure the world, they came together on Mount Putuo, a place that seemed like the very edge of the world.
Some shaved their heads, left home, and devoted themselves to the Buddha. Most could not bring themselves to do so.
Some hated the secular world. Some still could not let it go. They could not leave it behind.
They simply bowed day and night before Buddhist statues, attended the nuns, and tried to melt away the resentment in their hearts while entrusting themselves to the mountain because they had nowhere else to go.
The Sword Pavilion was the sect founded by those people.
As they attended the nuns, they sometimes had to protect them. To protect them, they had to teach one another martial arts. And after teaching martial arts, there came times when they had to venture into the world and wield killing techniques, hoping to resolve the hatred and attachments they had yet to release.
As they wielded killing techniques, grudges and debts accumulated.
To bear them, they had to band together.
At first, they had simply been women driven all the way to Mount Putuo at the world’s edge. A few among them had been martial artists.
As time passed, they naturally joined forces, exchanged knowledge, helped and taught one another, until they finally founded the sect known as the Putuo Sect.
It was not a large sect. It did not even compare to the Guangdong Martial Alliance in scale, let alone the Nine Great Sects and One Gang.
Yet strangely, it had many masters.
Masters famous throughout the land.
That was why everyone nodded as soon as they learned Shin Si-ye was a master of the Sword Pavilion.
If she was a master of the Sword Pavilion, then even as a woman and at a younger age, she could reasonably match Jin Hyeogo.
Jin Geol said, “That puts us in a better position. The martial arts tournament isn’t over. There have been two draws, and they decided to hold the third match two days from now.”
Yeon Sowol nodded.
That was a relief. On the final day of the tournament, when everyone’s emotions were at their height, there would be words that could only be spoken then.
There would be justification that could only be established then.
Jin Geol’s expression was not bright, though. If anything, his face had stiffened.
“Otherwise, we’d have been in serious trouble.”
“Trouble?”
“Yang Hoeam appeared at both of the last two matches. He acted as though the tournament were his achievement.”
Yang Hoeam, provincial governor of Yuezhou.
The man who had concluded that Moyong Ha had certainly colluded with the Demonic Path.
Most likely, Moyong Ha’s murderer.
Yeon Sowol’s expression hardened as well.
“That bastard was trying to swoop in and claim the feast I laid out?”
“He was. Fortunately, both matches ended in draws, so he could only offer encouragement before leaving. He couldn’t quite act like the host.”
That was fortunate, but not entirely so.
If he had done it twice, then he would certainly do it a third time.
Yeon Sowol gritted his teeth but cooled his thoughts.
“The problem is that we have no grounds to stop him.”
The provincial governor of Yuezhou was like a petty king who controlled Yuezhou’s administration, military, and justice.
Who could stand in the way when such a man said he would close out a tournament held in his own territory? Unless the Emperor himself arrived.
‘So we’ll have to watch Yang Hoeam play host...’
Yeon Sowol decided not to dwell on conditions he could not change.
This was a problem.
Just as with the college entrance exam, one had to understand the given conditions and find an answer that suited them. More than that, conditions often became hints themselves.
Perhaps conditions were not limits that constrained the answer, but clues that led to one.
Yeon Sowol muttered, “What does the provincial governor of Yuezhou intend to say at the end of the tournament? If we knew that, we might find a way to respond... He’ll probably warn everyone once more to keep quiet, like before. Then he’ll give it more justification. The key is what he’ll use to support that justification...”
Rather than shrink from the conditions before him, Yeon Sowol intended to examine them more closely.
Then Jin Geol said, “I’ve looked into that too.”
He lazily waved his fan.
Yeon Sowol’s eyes widened.
“You looked into it?”
“Did you forget where we first met?”
“Ah.”
Yeon Sowol and Jin Geol had first met at a banquet held by Governor-General Seo Myeongeum. Jin Geol had been there among countless scholars.
Before becoming a Jianghu man, Jin Geol had been a scholar with enough connections to receive an invitation from the Governor-General. There was no one better suited to gathering information from government offices.
“I bought officials drinks and picked up all kinds of stories. It gave me a pretty clear picture. Yang Hoeam plans to name the water raiders of Dongting Lake and the Yangtze as the people behind Young Lady Moyong’s murder.”
“Water raiders...?”
“Yeah. Yang Hoeam has suppressed them plenty of times, but he can’t wipe out every water stockade along the Yangtze. He’ll declare war on the water raiders and impose a travel ban across the entire Dongting Lake shore. Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching, so he probably intends to keep all of Yuezhou under tight control until then. He won’t let anyone breathe.”
“Wouldn’t that provoke resistance?”
“That’s why he’s waiting until the tournament’s final day. He’ll say he’s shown plenty of consideration to common people and martial artists alike. He’ll reward the winners generously too. Once he says he’s done all that, he’ll tell everyone to obey him. After establishing that justification, anyone who resists will be made to look unreasonable.”
“...”
Yeon Sowol worried at his lip.
Now he knew Yang Hoeam’s scheme.
What he needed was a move to counter it.
“So,” Jin Geol said, breaking through his thoughts as if telling him to hear this first and think afterward, “there’s someone you need to meet.”
“Who?”
“Gaseopmyeong.”
Gaseopmyeong?
The name sounded vaguely familiar.
* * *
Gaseopmyeong was currently famous throughout Hunan.
More famous than most of the Jianghu figures participating in the martial arts tournament.
He was the author of the Hunan Edition of the Register of Jianghu Figures.
And the writer of Yuezhou Rumors.
The Hunan Edition of the Register of Jianghu Figures needed no introduction.
It was already being sold across all of Hunan, not just Yuezhou, and was the reason paper prices had skyrocketed.
These days, though, Yuezhou Rumors was hotter in Yuezhou than the register.
Yuezhou Rumors had begun as a single sheet reporting news and behind-the-scenes stories from the Yuezhou martial arts tournament. Before long, it changed daily life in Yuezhou itself.
“Did you see Shin Si-ye’s sword yesterday? Huh? The blade went shhhk! And then! Huh? Huh? When did her sword... like!”
“Yeah, I saw it. Yeah. Like! It just slid around, and then! Then!”
“Exactly! Yeah!”
This was a world where countless people were illiterate.
There were people who could not fully describe what they had seen, who could only make noises like monkeys and pound their chests.
Then such people happened to hear a passage from Yuezhou Rumors.
- - -
Shin Si-ye’s sobriquet is Scatter Sword.
If there is no purpose to one’s autumn stroll, then the scattered sword before her has no target.
Like fallen leaves that have lost their branch and dance without knowing why, every sword raised against her loses its purpose.
Like those who stroll until the evening glow descends, each returns with Shin Si-ye’s blade upon their collar.
Her sword does not cut people, but sword intent. Even masters hardened by a hundred battles would forget how to wield a sword before her.
- - -
“Kyaaaaaah!”
“Kyaaaaaah!”
“Scatter Sword!”
“Yeah! That’s what I was trying to say.”
“Even masters hardened by a hundred battles, huh? Forget how to wield a sword, huh?”
At every review Gaseopmyeong wrote about a memorable scene from the tournament, people let out rough breaths.
Every word glittered and carried fragrance. It was intoxicating.
The tournament was not something people watched once and forgot. They gathered to discuss it, then Gaseopmyeong’s writing came out. They read it over and over, discussing it again and again.
What had started as a single sheet grew page by page until it became a thin booklet.
Tournament news. Gaseopmyeong’s reviews. The opinions of other martial artists and public sentiment from the streets. Other amusing stories as well.
It was a remarkable, entertaining pastime that let even those who were not gossipmongers recite every detail of the tournament and Yuezhou’s current affairs like seasoned gossipmongers.
The merchant guild printing Gaseopmyeong’s writing with woodblocks let out delighted screams every day.
Yeon Sowol and Jin Geol appeared before Gaseopmyeong’s home.
They had come alone because they thought Gaseopmyeong might feel threatened if a crowd of armed martial artists showed up.
Yet...
“Is anyone home?”
They called out at the front gate, but received no answer.
“Hello! We came looking for Mister Ga!”
They called several more times, but still heard nothing.
Yeon Sowol and Jin Geol looked at each other.
“There are signs someone’s inside, though.”
“Seems like it.”
The gate happened to be open.
They gently pushed aside the thin wooden door and stepped inside.
“Hm?”
“Oh.”
Beyond the door was a modest courtyard.
Yet the entire yard was packed with small pebbles and wooden boards.
At first, Yeon Sowol thought it was some kind of garden. But it was not.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Is this... a map of Yuezhou and the Dongting Lake region?”
The small pebbles formed lines, outlining the shape of Dongting Lake. Larger stones stood here and there, seemingly marking important buildings and landmarks such as Yueyang Tower and the Yuezhou government office.
On the wooden boards placed between them...
“Huh.”
Yeon Sowol let out a sound of admiration.
Jin Geol smiled meaningfully.
“Now do you see why I said we needed to come here?”
Yeon Sowol nodded and carefully examined the pebbles and wooden boards.
His gaze followed the Dongting Lake shore from Yueyang Tower, then stopped at one spot.
Tiny writing filled the wooden board.
[Dongting Lake water raiders, Dragon King Stronghold. It is said that the provincial governor has continuously suppressed them and greatly weakened their forces, but that is not true. Because of the Dongting Lake travel ban and similar measures, Yuezhou knows little of the situation, but the damage suffered by nearby fishing villages has actually grown worse than before. There also appear to be no small number of cases involving Yuezhou residents, though they are not widely known. Specifically...]
Yeon Sowol raised his head.
“Unbelievable.”
The home of Gaseopmyeong, Yuezhou’s greatest gossipmonger.
The pebbles and wooden boards filling its courtyard.
It was a complete record of every incident, accident, ghost story, and rumor that one gossipmonger had spent a lifetime collecting.
Footnotes:
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