WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Order

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◈ The Heaven-Slaying Sword ◈

Chapter 58: Chapter Seven - Murim Alliance, Founding (1)

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It took another week to travel from Hubei Province to Wuhan.

During that time, the party's mood grew considerably brighter.

Above all, Mok Ri-won, who had been the most despondent, had regained his spirits.

His conversation with Gwak Chil had clearly changed something in him, but Dang Hwa-seo and Jegal San did not press him about it.

After all, what mattered more than such personal matters was that Mok Ri-won had recovered his spirits.

"So this is the Martial Alliance in Wuhan...!"

Mok Ri-won's eyes gleamed as he looked toward the heart of Wuhan, as though his heart were racing.

At the end of his gaze stood the largest hall he had ever seen.

Above its gates was a name written in elegant calligraphy.

White Path Martial Alliance.

Mok Ri-won's fist clenched tightly.

Dang Hwa-seo smiled faintly at the sight.

"We're going in now. Are you ready?"

"Of course! How could I hesitate after coming this far?"

Jegal San laughed heartily at Mok Ri-won's spirited reply.

"Hm. Forming the unit may be easier than we expected. They might even ask us first."

"Huh? Why would they?"

"A Demonic practitioner has appeared. The Martial Alliance won't be in its usual mood."

Mok Ri-won's body flinched.

His expression grew grave.

"...That's right. A Demonic practitioner has appeared."

Another Bloody Affair might be written into history.

The thought crossed Mok Ri-won's mind, but he shook his head and spoke as though making a vow.

"No. I won't allow another Bloody Affair to happen. This is why I learned the sword."

He would never be shaken for the same reason again.

With that thought, Mok Ri-won stepped forward.

"Let's go!"

The Ink Dragon, Mok Ri-won, entered the Martial Alliance.

* * *

The Martial Alliance was particularly noisy that day.

The Ink Dragon, the Strange Dragon, and the Poison Phoenix, whose whereabouts had been unknown since the Dragon Phoenix Gathering, had appeared there.

Naturally, it was welcome news.

Rumors of their arrival had circulated since the gathering, and now they had proved true.

Demonic practitioners had recently been sighted throughout the land, darkening the Alliance's mood. Yet that day, it felt lighter and more lively than usual.

One man stepped forward.

"That's fortunate. We need to reinforce our strength at a time like this."

A middle-aged man walked down one of the Alliance's long corridors.

He looked less like a Martial Alliance martial artist and more like a frail scholar.

Yet he could not simply be called a scholar. The internal energy in his gait and the sharpness in his eyes were unmistakable.

"Military Strategist, are you going yourself?"

"They are Dragons and Phoenixes. If I don't go, who will?"

The strategist's lips moved as he chose his words, then he added one more thing.

"...And I hear that brat of a nephew is here too. I should see him at least once."

"Ha ha..."

The attendant beside him gave an awkward laugh.

He knew that the man serving as the Martial Alliance's strategist was not kind enough to be swayed by familial affection.

He also knew the strategist did not think highly of someone who had brought disgrace upon the family name.

Just as he did with his subordinates, the strategist would likely drive his words into his nephew's chest like daggers.

The Martial Alliance's strategist, Jegal Mu-yeon.

He was Jegal San's uncle, and the man with the cruelest tongue in the Martial Alliance.

* * *

The Martial Alliance's reception hall was magnificent.

For one thing, it occupied an entire pavilion with one of the finest views in Wuhan. The scenery beyond its windows was extraordinary.

That was not all.

The hall bore the marks of countless renowned figures.

One wall was filled with the achievements of the White Path Martial Alliance.

It was more than enough to intimidate Mok Ri-won, who had spent his life far removed from such sights.

Yet there was another, greater reason he felt so intimidated.

"I heard you flirted with another woman who lost her husband."

"Flirted? That's hurtful. I was practicing Chivalric righteousness."

"So your Chivalric righteousness lies in a widow's breasts?"

"That isn't entirely inaccurate. More importantly, Uncle, you've gained quite a few wrinkles. Alliance work must not be easy..."

"Unlike someone who idles around all day."

Neither side gave an inch.

Could it even be called an argument?

Both men were smiling at each other.

Their words even sounded as though they were concerned for the other.

Yet the meanings behind those words were so sharp that Mok Ri-won could only watch them nervously.

He whispered to Dang Hwa-seo.

"M-Miss. Shouldn't we stop them...?"

"Leave them be. It's a family reunion, isn't it?"

Whether that could truly be called a reunion was another matter, but Dang Hwa-seo had no intention of interfering.

It was rare to see even sly Jegal San with veins bulging on his forehead.

"Young Hero Mok, make sure you watch closely too. You couldn't buy a sight like this for any price."

Mok Ri-won hesitated, then followed Dang Hwa-seo's advice.

His eyes slowly shifted toward the two men.

Military Strategist Jegal Mu-yeon looked calm.

His frail, scholarly air was so pronounced that, if not for his moving lips, one would not know he was the one speaking.

Jegal San was much the same.

Veins stood out on his forehead, but his naturally weasel-like face wore such a sly smile that he did not look angry.

"You seem to have plenty of free time. Coming all this way just to see our faces at a time like this."

"The Martial Alliance does not slight masters. Dragons and Phoenixes are reason enough for me to come personally. Ah, I wasn't referring to you. I don't even know whether you qualify as a Dragon."

Jegal Mu-yeon smiled faintly.

"I heard you failed to reach the main tournament's final and shamefully cried out in defeat."

"Oh, the Fist Dragon truly is the Fist Dragon."

Jegal San laughed loudly, filling his voice with false cheer.

Jegal Mu-yeon snorted before finally turning away.

A gentle smile rested on his face.

"My apologies. It has been a while since I last saw my nephew, so our conversation ran a little long."

"N-No, not at all!"

Mok Ri-won stiffened and rose as the attention turned to him.

He performed a cupped-fist salute.

"I am Mok Ri-won! The people of the Martial World call me the Ink Dragon!"

The words slipped out before he knew it.

Only afterward did Mok Ri-won realize he had said the line he had always imagined saying. His face flushed with excitement.

Dang Hwa-seo smiled and rose as well, performing a cupped-fist salute.

"I am the Poison Phoenix."

Jegal Mu-yeon also rose from his seat.

Though he had a cruel tongue, he knew when not to use it.

"I am Jegal Mu-yeon, the Military Strategist."

Jegal Mu-yeon returned the salute, then sat down again.

"You came here to establish a unit, correct?"

The Martial Alliance was the heart of the Orthodox Sects in the Martial World.

As the man at the peak of its intelligence network, he could infer the conflict between Dang Hwa-seo and the Tang Clan, as well as the choice she might make amid that strange struggle for influence.

Dang Hwa-seo did not bother asking how much he knew.

The better they understood her position, the more advantageous it was for her.

"Yes. At first, I only wanted to enter the Alliance, but my resolve grew stronger during the journey here. After encountering a Demonic practitioner and witnessing the devastation, I came to believe that we must do our part to set an example for the White Path Martial World."

The bold words she spoke with a smile were unlike Dang Hwa-seo.

Jegal San let out a hollow laugh and poked Mok Ri-won in the side.

Mok Ri-won merely stared at Dang Hwa-seo with shining eyes, as though she looked impressive to him.

"I was hoping to ask you myself."

Jegal Mu-yeon smiled like a scholar.

"We have intelligence."

The one Mok Ri-won's group had encountered was not the only one. Demonic practitioners had appeared throughout the Central Plains.

They were not mere Demonic practitioners who had merely learned Demonic arts. They belonged to an organization.

They were devils who had descended from the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains beyond Xinjiang in the west.

"It appears the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult has begun to move."

The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.

Since Yi Mu-baek, the Third Heavenly Demon, it had become a name that filled the Martial World of the Central Plains with fear.

With their activity now confirmed, the Central Plains would become even more chaotic.

"These are difficult times. That is why we need more heroes, especially young heroes like Dragons and Phoenixes."

He was not merely saying they would be welcomed.

Even Mok Ri-won, who was not particularly perceptive, could see how obvious the implication was.

Jegal Mu-yeon made no effort to hide it.

"We plan to establish a unit. A unit that will become the young face of the White Path Martial World."

Jegal Mu-yeon's smile deepened.

"The Martial Alliance wishes to gather Dragons and Phoenixes. We wish to establish a new unit with them."

The White Path Martial World needed vigor and hope.

"The Dragon Phoenix Unit. We would like to ask you to join it."

The current Martial World needed names that could succeed the Four Stars and Six Kings.

* * *

Deep within the Shaolin Sect's inner quarters, the Fist Dragon, Il-un, meditated in the lotus position for a long time before opening his eyes.

He rose, turned around, and bowed deeply.

"What brings you here?"

Before him stood an old monk who resembled an ancient tree.

Yet Il-un would not have bowed so deeply if he were merely an old monk.

"The Alliance sent word. Have you heard what it said?"

"I will follow the Abbot's will."

The Shaolin Sect's abbot, Wonmyeong, the Buddha Star.

The former Martial Alliance Leader and one of the current White Path Martial World's absolute masters smiled.

"You look as though you're dying to go."

Mischief danced across the old monk's face.

It was a boyish smile.

Il-un gave a bitter smile.

"...I am only ashamed that I remain so attached to the secular world."

"Go."

Il-un's head snapped up.

Shock filled his face.

Wonmyeong laughed heartily, pleased by his reaction.

"What is wrong with being attached to the secular world? If the Buddha's will lies there, you may go as often as you wish."

Sophistry.

But it was sweet sophistry.

Il-un knew that Wonmyeong's words were not spoken solely for the sake of righteousness in the Martial World. Wonmyeong also pitied Il-un's longing.

At a loss for what to do, Il-un finally bowed with a warm smile.

"...Thank you."

The Fist Dragon, Il-un, once again set out into the secular world.

* * *

Golden Summit of Mount Emei in Sichuan.

At the temple of the Emei Sect, one of the Martial World's Nine Sects, Hye-un slung a bundle over her shoulder.

'I can't live like this anymore.'

She missed the secular world too much.

She missed delicious meals, lively atmospheres, and many other things, but what she missed most was this.

'Men.'

She missed men.

Fresh, young men.

Fortunately, Hye-un had a good excuse.

The message sent to her by the Martial Alliance.

Hye-un intended to use it as a pretext to escape this place.

"Hye-un, where are you going?"

Hye-un flinched.

Her body trembled.

How had her master known she was planning to sneak away? The woman had appeared without a sound, smiling.

Hye-un took a deep breath and thought.

'If I fight, I'll definitely lose.'

Persuasion would never work.

That left only one option.

"I shall go forth and set the Martial World's righteousness straight!!!"

Whoosh!

Hye-un fled.

Her master laughed heartily as Hye-un vanished like a streak of light.

"I never said I wouldn't let her go. Why is she making such a fuss?"

"Will she be all right?"

A nun beside her asked.

Hye-un's master replied.

"Let her be. Her fondness for men will wear off eventually. Isn't it something one must experience to learn that it is all meaningless?"

The nun beside the wrinkled bhikkhuni smiled awkwardly.

'That bitch?'

It seemed Hye-un's master did not know that Hye-un was the sort who could go without food, but never without men.

* * *

At the Namgung Noble Clan's training grounds, Namgung Jin-cheon sheathed his sword.

After steadying his breath, he opened his eyes and saw the training ground floor, marked by obvious destruction.

'This is enough.'

He had learned every form.

From here on, further completion would come only through his own training and experience.

'I'm leaving.'

A man's face appeared in Namgung Jin-cheon's mind.

Mok Ri-won, the man who smiled like a fool while wielding a sword Namgung Jin-cheon could not hope to resist.

Namgung Jin-cheon's fist clenched.

'I won't lose twice.'

A fierce desire for victory, unlike anything he had ever felt before, burned in his eyes.

"Brother?"

A young girl's voice rang out.

Namgung Jin-cheon turned and saw his little sister, more than ten years his junior.

"So-a."

Namgung So-a crossed her arms and put on a prim expression.

Even so, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

It was a ridiculous attempt to act aloof.

"Are you leaving?"

She was even using polite speech when she normally never did.

She had acted that way ever since the day after meeting Mok Ri-won.

Namgung Jin-cheon nodded indifferently.

Namgung So-a fought back the urge to jump up and down, then said,

"Th-then So-a will go too..."

"Stay home."

Namgung Jin-cheon walked past Namgung So-a.

She grew tearful behind him, but he did not care in the slightest.

Proving his sword mattered more to Namgung Jin-cheon than his little sister's childish love.

Imperial Sword Form.

Armed with a new weapon, Namgung Jin-cheon headed for the Martial Alliance.

Footnotes:

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