Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman - Chapter 13

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈

Chapter 13: Self-Preservation

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Looking closer, I began to notice one strange thing after another.

His tangled hair and overgrown beard made his age hard to judge, but there were few wrinkles around his eyes. He seemed to be a man in his prime.

The wrist showing beneath his sleeve was thick-jointed, and heavy calluses covered the back of his hand.

That was not all.

His shoulders were broad enough to suggest considerable strength, and a long, smooth bamboo staff leaned at an angle beside his feet.

He looked mean somehow. The sort of person who, if tempted by someone else's money, would choose robbery over begging.

Perhaps that staff was there to crack the skulls of anyone trying to steal his alms.

Why was someone like that begging in the first place?

Just as I was about to step toward him and strike up a conversation, I saw four people slowly approaching him from down the road.

The beggar looked their way as well.

I stopped naturally and watched.

The approaching figures wore capes draped over their shoulders and conical hats pulled low. Their steps were uniformly light and orderly, and the way their robes swayed differed somehow from the people on the street.

Looking carefully, they seemed to be dressed like the people I had seen sitting at the inn yesterday. I thought there had been three of them then, but there were four now.

Were they the same people I had seen yesterday, or different ones?

The group stopped beside the beggar and began speaking with him. The beggar joined their conversation.

My curiosity stirred.

I looked around for somewhere I could linger. By chance, there was a street stall nearby.

Two or three customers stood in front of it, so if I slipped between them, I would be hidden from the group's view for a while.

I headed over.

I tried to keep my eyes on the stall, but my feet and shoulders kept angling toward where the beggar sat.

Even after reaching the stall, I stood there for a while, glancing that way.

"Welcome!"

A voice came from beyond the stall. Only then did I turn my gaze toward it.

A pile of freshly baked food sat on top. They were round and flat, each about the size of an adult's palm, golden-brown and scattered with sesame seeds.

A stout man worked busily beside a brazier. He flattened a round piece of dough once more with his palm, then stuck it to the inner wall of the brazier with a smack.

It looked something like a pancake, something like a flatbread. A savory scent rose with the steam.

"I'll have one."

"Yes, sir. Ten wen."

I pointed to one on top. The man nodded, wrapped a warm flatbread in a piece of cloth, and handed it over. I opened my money pouch, paid, and accepted it.

I glanced toward the beggar again.

I could hear voices now and then, so they were clearly talking, but they were too far away for me to make out the words.

Then something occurred to me.

In the mountains, I had once sent energy into my eyes to watch small animals moving far away. I had also sent it into my feet and leaped three or four zhang in a single breath.

If that was possible, why not with my ears?

I immediately drew up the energy in my dantian and slowly sent it toward my ears.

The next moment, every nearby sound rushed at me at once.

The dough swelling and splitting inside the brazier with a sizzle, sizzle. The customers beside me talking among themselves.

The stall owner's calls to passing customers. All of it poured into my head at once.

My head spun, and I could not help frowning.

With my eyes closed, I steadied my breathing and gradually sorted the sounds, one layer at a time. The close sounds stayed close, the distant ones moved far away.

Only after putting in a little more effort could I isolate a familiar voice from the rest.

That sharp female voice.

It really was the group from the inn.

Taking a bite of the flatbread in my hand, I quietly listened.

"…After hearing of all those atrocities, how can we simply let it go? Besides, wasn't Great Hero Go the one who told us where the Black Snake Gang Leader was staying?"

A deep, heavy sigh sounded once, followed by a rough voice. It seemed to belong to the beggar.

"Hah. So now I am the one being reproached."

The beggar grumbled on.

"I only told you because the young lady begged me so earnestly. I never imagined you'd take the bastard's head overnight and roll it into the street."

The flatbread froze in my mouth.

If the Black Snake Gang had been thugs ruling the streets, they must have numbered several dozen at the very least.

The gang's martial arts had not seemed especially impressive, but facing dozens of people could not have been easy.

Were those people really that strong?

Part of me felt chilled as well. I was sure they had said something like they would pretend not to have seen anything. Yet they had tracked the gang down and finished them off.

I could almost see the persistence hidden beneath that sharp voice. Perhaps anyone she marked as a target had to be dealt with before she could rest easy.

Still, if what he said was true, Abok would be glad to hear it. He would no longer be caught between those two thugs.

The sharp female voice started to speak again, only to be cut off by a brief remark from an older man. Thinking back, it was the voice of the man they had called Martial Uncle at the inn.

He spoke briefly, seemingly trying to persuade her, and the beggar soon wrapped things up as though it were all in the past.

Just as I was about to withdraw my Inner Energy, thinking the conversation was ending, the beggar spoke again.

"We've learned their whereabouts."

"Finally."

"There are reports that an elder resembling them was seen in a village three days from here about a month ago. We have not pinpointed their dwelling, but they appear to be in that village."

It seemed Wudang was pursuing someone. Without realizing it, I focused my hearing even more. I heard someone take a long, steady breath.

"Could Great Hero Go guide us there personally?"

"Of course. When shall we depart?"

A brief silence passed.

"There's no reason to delay. Let us leave now."

Robes rustled, but then the Martial Uncle spoke again.

"However, if this poor Daoist proves no match for that person, I ask that Great Hero Go watch over these children."

"Martial Uncle!"

"How could you say that!"

The sharp female voice and another female voice I had not heard before rose at the same time. It seemed the person who had joined them was a woman as well.

"Junior Sister Cheongnim. Youngest. What sort of manner is that toward Martial Uncle?"

Another man's voice joined in. It was the same voice that had scolded his junior sister at the inn.

"Martial Uncle told us of this possibility back at Mount Wudang. Is it right to question it now?"

After a moment of silence, the senior brother's voice softened.

"…And Martial Uncle will not lose to that person. Do not worry."

Someone inhaled once. There was a faint tremor in the breath.

Though he said that, perhaps this man could not be certain of Martial Uncle's victory either.

"Great Hero Go, let us leave at once."

"Let us."

Their robes brushed together as they began walking away toward the East Gate.

I turned my head slightly. Four figures in capes and conical hats, along with one shabby beggar, disappeared as a group beyond the end of the alley.

Even the empty bowl that had been at the beggar's feet had vanished. He must have packed it away somewhere.

There truly were all sorts of people in this world.

I slowly withdrew the energy gathered in my ears and guided it back down to its proper place in my dantian. I could feel the scattered energy gathering together again.

After bowing to the stall owner, I took another bite of the cooling flatbread and headed back toward the inn.

As I walked, I sorted through the information I had just heard.

A beggar who did not seem like a beggar was pursuing an elder alongside martial artists.

"Mm…"

The more I thought about it, the colder my chest became.

Several nights in the mountains came to mind.

The night Hyeonam had cut down five martial artists. And the nights when Hyeonam had occasionally returned covered in blood.

They had definitely said an elder. An elder resembling the person they sought had been seen in a village three days away.

Hyeonam had sometimes gone somewhere to buy millet. If that was when Hyeonam had been seen, I could not tell whether it had been around a month ago. Ten years in the mountains had felt almost exactly the same every day.

Surely not.

No. Whether that elder was Hyeonam or not, nothing good would come from getting involved any further.

In three days, I would join the protection convoy bound for Yeongpa. I would have no reason to meet those people again before then.

I clenched the cold flatbread, cloth and all, in one hand and hurried back to the inn.

* * *

When I entered the inn, Abok, who had been resting at a table in the corner, greeted me.

He sprang to his feet and hurried over. It seemed the lunch crowd had gone, leaving the inn quiet.

"You're back, sir. So, did you really pass?"

Seeing those bright, clear eyes eased some of the unease weighing on my chest.

There was no way such a coincidence could happen. Even if the person they were pursuing really had been Hyeonam, that elder was already in a dirt grave somewhere in the mountains.

I was the one who had cut down that mad elder. Even if they walked three days, searched an empty village from end to end, and returned, what would that have to do with me?

Perhaps they would even thank me.

The thought loosened my mouth into a crooked smile.

"I thought I'd show you this."

I took the escort token from my clothes and held it out on my palm. The four characters for Faithful Escort Agency were clearly engraved into the small wooden token, no longer than two finger joints.

Abok's gaze fell upon it, and his mouth dropped open.

"Wow…! You really got one. You really passed."

"I did."

"What was the test like? Did you have a sparring bout with an escort?"

"We only exchanged a move or two."

That was not all, but there was no need to explain it in detail just to boast. Still, Abok's eyes were already shining, eager to hear more.

He pointed at a table to one side.

"There aren't many customers right now, so please sit down and tell me more. You look like you've worked up a sweat. I'll bring you some tea."

Remembering the cold flatbread in my hand, I held it out, cloth and all.

"I bought this earlier. Could you warm it up?"

Abok took it and headed toward the kitchen. Soon, he returned with the flatbread warmed through and a hot cup of tea.

When I took a bite, the scent of sesame and scallions finally came alive in my mouth.

Abok perched across from me, his eyes full of light.

I snorted at the sight and briefly told him about my sparring bout with Escort Captain Ma.

I told him how Escort Captain Ma had faced me with a broad sabre in hand, how heavy the captain's sabre had felt when it struck mine, and how I had ended the bout by lightly cutting the inside of the captain's ankle.

Abok listened with his mouth hanging open the entire time. Even as I took a bite of flatbread, his mouth remained open.

He soon came to his senses and began pouring out words. He said how difficult it was to become an escort at the Faithful Escort Agency, how many guests had tried before, and how I was the first person he had seen actually become one.

His constant praise made my back feel awkward. I took a sip of tea and casually changed the subject.

"By the way, I heard the Black Snake Gang Leader lost their head."

Abok's eyes widened again, then he nodded as though it made sense.

"There have been rumors since lunchtime. One person says they saw it, then another says they saw it. They say the gang's headquarters was a complete mess. That must be why those bastards haven't been seen on the streets since yesterday."

It seemed it had not been a lie. Thinking of those people, I casually asked about Wudang.

"Ah, you mean those Wudang people."

Abok brought both hands together on the table and thought for a moment before sharing what he had heard.

"I don't know much myself, but guests sometimes talk about Mount Wudang. They say there's a Daoist temple atop the mountain, where they cultivate the Dao and practice swordsmanship. People say immortals live there, and Daoists cross mountains with nothing but a sword. Things like that."

Abok shrugged.

"I hear they make up a great sect, and you saw the Black Snake Gang bastards' faces yesterday, didn't you? At the mere mention of Wudang, that whole bunch turned pale. Looking at that, it must not be an ordinary place."

I nodded as I listened. While I was at it, I asked about the beggar too.

Abok immediately nodded.

"Ah, beggars. So, that is…"

After pausing to scratch his head, he raised one finger.

"I heard beggars have groups among themselves too. What was it called? The Beggars' Sect, perhaps. They may go around begging, but they actually practice martial arts as well."

Then he lowered his voice slightly.

"They say those people hear news of the martial world first. Since they sit everywhere in the streets, they hear all kinds of things."

They heard news first?

The more I listened, the hotter my thoughts became.

If Wudang was pursuing Hyeonam, and if the Beggars' Sect had helped them...

Then I could understand why Hyeonam had kept moving from place to place for ten years, yet still returned covered in blood time after time.

The more I thought about it, the more the pieces fit.

But what could I do about it now? Even if everything was true, Hyeonam was already buried in the earth.

I wanted to believe I would not become involved any further.

But they were the people said to hear news of the martial world first. Could they have tracked the strange martial artist who had killed a tiger with a single stab from the mountain road to Jang Sam's village, and then all the way here to Geonnyeong?

Perhaps they could find me as well. That sharp voice seemed to ring beside my ear.

How would they treat me then? I had inherited Hyeonam's swordsmanship intact. Though I had never formed a master-disciple bond with that damned elder, not even in the end, would they see me that way?

Could I expect goodwill from them?

The price of thoughtlessly offering a dying elder a sip of water had been ten years. I absolutely refused to pay the same price twice.

I finished the last of the cold flatbread and drained my tea.

"Thank you. That was helpful."

"Yes, sir. Please come down again this evening."

Abok gathered the empty dishes and rose as though seeing me off.

I needed to decide how to deal with this.

I went upstairs and entered my room. The martial attire lay neatly where I had left it.

I moved it aside, climbed onto the bedding, and sat cross-legged. Steadying my breath, I began energy circulation.

From the dantian, back to the dantian. It felt strange to have what had scattered gather once more in a single place.

Yet after circulating it for a while, the amount gathering seemed slightly less than before.

It was the same after another circuit.

Wondering what had happened, I focused my awareness on my dantian and looked within. The difference was tiny, but it had clearly decreased by about two percent.

The earlier scene resurfaced in my blank mind. That brief moment when I had stood before the street stall holding a piece of flatbread and listened in on the beggar and Wudang. That was the only time I had used Inner Energy.

Yet two percent had vanished.

I sat there for a long time.

Even if it leaked away like water from a cracked vessel, was this not too much?

Two percent would let me take three or four more steps when it mattered. Those few steps could mean the difference between life and death.

Once the protection convoy began, I would have to travel among others for nearly a month. This might be my last chance for a while to circulate energy without concern.

They had said Yeongpa was about a month away. It would be a month spent using energy without replenishing it.

Before setting out on such a journey, I could not afford to let it slip away one percent at a time.

I resolved not to leave the inn carelessly for the remaining three days, but to stay in my room and devote myself to energy circulation.

I steadied my breath once more and made another circuit from my dantian. From the dantian, up my spine to the crown of my head. Down past my face and chest, then back to the dantian.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, pale light was entering through the small window.

For three whole days, except when eating and sleeping, I had remained in my room and circulated energy all day long.

Still lying down, I examined my dantian. The space that had been empty three days ago was now filled with room to spare, well over nine-tenths full.

This would do.

I unfolded my legs and stood, changing into the escort uniform I had folded beforehand. The rough hemp fabric brushed against my skin.

I fastened my sword at my waist. I tucked the escort token securely deep inside my clothes and tied my money pouch beside it. I felt around the bedside and beneath the bedding once more to make sure I had not left anything behind.

I looked around the room. I had stayed there for three days, yet nothing had changed since I arrived. That somehow lightened my heart.

I closed the door and went downstairs.

Perhaps because it was early morning, the inn was quiet.

Abok came out from the kitchen, recognized me, and hurried over with a dishcloth draped over his shoulder.

"Are you leaving already?"

"The protection convoy departs during the Hour of the Dragon."

Abok paused for a beat, then clasped both hands neatly in front of him.

"I heard Yeongpa is far away. I hope you arrive safely."

Those eyes looked almost tearful. For three days, Abok had hurried back and forth between the kitchen and the tables, looking after me.

It felt strange to realize that affection could grow even in such a short time.

After hesitating briefly, I added one more thing.

"If you ever can't bear this place any longer, come to Yeongpa."