Do You Know The Way?

Mak Ji-mong shook his head slowly from side to side.

“Looks like I won’t have to go to the trouble of killing him myself. That scholar fellow is straining every muscle to die. This Young Faction Leader of the Iron-Blood Faction, you said he was a master past the first-rate?”

“Yes, Young Sect Leader.”

“Then there’s no chance of the scholar winning, not even by a fluke?”

“For the scholar to beat the Iron-Blood Faction’s Young Faction Leader… he would have about the odds of throwing a pebble into a river and killing a crucian carp with it.”

“Which is to say the thing is impossible.”

“It is impossible. The first-rate level of attainment shuts out any lucky stroke a second- or third-rater might attempt.”

“Then why did that scholar fellow come at him, unless he’s mad?”

“To this subordinate’s mind, unless he means to kill himself, he must have some ability he has kept hidden.”

“You felt something?”

“No. He appeared to have no internal force at all.”

“Then why do you expect anything?”

“Because he is the scholar the Supreme invited. My expectation begins with a question. Would the Supreme have invited a merely ordinary scholar?”

“There were scholars before him too.”

“Those were all scholars brought in from the Strategist Hall. That one is the first scholar the Supreme has invited.”

“Hm!”

Mak Ji-mong heard the sense in it, and fixed his eyes on the sparring platform.

A sparring match between a scholar and the Young Faction Leader of a school standing second in the unorthodox order had everyone’s interest.

“But why is Scholar Cheon up there?”

Myeong U-jong made for the sparring platform with worry all over his face. An escort warrior had brought him word that the scholar had gone up onto the platform, and he had come running out of the Guest Pavilion. He knew for a fact that Scholar Cheon had killed masters of the Demonic Cult with a few flicks of his fingers. But if he meant to have the man’s help later on, it did him no good at all for word of that strength to spread so widely.

Just then Namgung Cheol-ung, who had come up behind him, answered.

“Do not be concerned. He is sure to have something in mind.”

Myeong U-jong knew him for a martial artist of the Namgung Clan. Seeing him unconcerned where he ought to have been worried, he clicked his tongue.

“He has plainly some purpose in view and has hidden what he is behind a scholar’s guise, but whether it is safe for him to show himself like this, I do not know.”

Namgung Cheol-ung was about to answer when the drum announcing the start of the match pulled his eyes to the sparring platform. Cheong Yo, Song-ran and Eun-bi had heard the news and come out as well, and stood staring hard at the scholar’s platform.

“Wang Sim, was it? Today’s going to give you a great deal to think about. About yourself, and about other people. And about what it is to live.”

“What dog’s drivel is this!”

“What I mean is, a man who suffers pain enough to kill him can come to attain the Way¹.”

“Hey. Can you even do the Three Powers Sword Technique²? What martial arts would some scrap of a scholar know? Come at me, then. I’ll go easy on you for ten moves or so.”

“Now, then. It’s time to attain the Way.”

I went trudging toward the fellow with heavy steps. With no internal force in my stride and a wooden sword in my hand, I must have looked to the spectators like something out of a Peking opera.

“Wahaha! The scholar is magnificent!”

“Show us the Scholar Divine Sword!”

Somebody had thrown the words out in jest, and they spread like a wave.

“Scholar Divine Sword! Scholar Divine Sword!”

The name Scholar Divine Sword turned into a jeer, and more and more of the spectators took it up, cheering me on through their laughter.

“All right, I’ve put ten coppers on the scholar to win. If he wins it turns into a windfall of ten taels of silver, so win, I beg you!”

Wang Sim was every inch a man of the unorthodox sects. He stood with both arms spread as I came on, as though daring me to try an attack, and the moment I was inside the whip’s reach he swung.

Did you take me for a man who would believe an utter hellion like you?

I slipped the whip with the Nine Nether Ghost-Spirit Footwork, and Wang Sim’s eyes lifted a little, as though at something he had not expected.

“You wretch! Lucky, aren’t you? Let’s see you dodge this one!”

— Whoom!

Take a blow from a whip with internal force in it and an arm or a leg would come away. Wang Sim already meant to leave me past recovery, and he was pouring internal force into the whip for all he was worth.

— Whump!

Where the whip came down on the floor of the sparring platform, the bluestone said to be harder than iron was gouged into a hollow. A first-rate master’s internal force was enough to punch through an iron plate.

— Whung! Whoosh! Zing!

He swung to bind me up in the whip, and each time I slipped it lightly. His eyes narrowed as he watched. The weasel eyes narrowed further, and killing intent came leaking out between them.

“So this scholar fellow had a move in him after all! That’s why he’s been swaggering about. Good. Then I’ll deal with you in earnest.”

— Whoom!

The whip took on a movement I had not seen until then and came flying at my neck. It moved with a dazzling life, for all the world like a snake.

— Crack!

Through that dazzling movement I brought the wooden sword down on the crown of the fellow’s head.

“Agh!”

Startled, Wang Sim brought the whip up and came at me. At first I let his attacks come, to see how a weapon like a whip moved, but I soon lost interest. I set the three spirit energies turning and overwhelmed him in strength and speed. Where strength and speed were superior, no weapon and no move, however fine, counted for much. On top of that, perhaps because his own mastery was low, to my eye it looked like a man swinging a length of silk.

In that case, it was time for the lesson.

“It’s time to attain the Way!”

— Crunch!

Wang Sim staggered. He had taken the wooden sword full on the temple as it swept across, so he would be seeing stars.

— Crunch!

— Krrrick!

That one landed on his side, and somehow what I heard was the sound of bone breaking.

“You little bastard!”

The whip would not land on me, so Wang Sim threw it aside, drew the dagger at his waist and swung with that.

“I meant to pull off just the one arm, but that won’t do now. I’ll cut your head off for you.”

Wang Sim still believed he had the upper hand. He must have reckoned that if he cut through my wooden sword with the dagger he could put me down easily enough.

When he brought the dagger down and the edge would not bite into the wood, he was taken aback.

“Let’s attain the Way.”

— Snap!

The wooden sword dropped into the low stance and broke the fellow’s shin. Wang Sim had bitten his lip and borne the pain until then, and now at last he screamed.

“Yaaagh!”

“We can’t have you falling over.”

I kicked his thigh to stand him up again so he could not sink down.

— Crunch!

— Crack!

— Thock!

— Thup!

After taking dozens of blows from my wooden sword, Wang Sim went so far as to throw both arms up to shield himself.

The dagger was nowhere to be seen.

“Is that even possible?”

Mak Ji-mong sprang to his feet and asked the escort beside him.

“Hey. You said this Wang Sim bastard was a first-rate master. A first-rate master, taking a beating like that? Does that make any sense?”

The escort answered in a grave tone.

“To toy with a first-rate master to that degree, one would have to have the peak level of skill or better.”

“Th-then. That doesn’t mean that scholar fellow is at the peak, does it? Does it?”

The escort was silent a while, then spoke.

“He is the scholar the Supreme chose. If one is inviting a scholar to educate the Young Sect Leader properly, would he not have to be at something like the peak level of attainment?”

There was nothing behind it but guesswork, and yet it carried a strange conviction.

Myeong U-jong had known what the scholar could do, but seeing it again he understood that drawing the man in was the only way he himself would live.

“With Scholar Cheon, I think this investigation will succeed.”

“With Master Scholar Cheon there, he would be worth more than a hundred escorts like us.”

Namgung Cheol-ung, Namgung Hwa-jun and Namgung Pyo were squabbling over a different question.

“Master will kill that man. There was killing intent all over him when he looked at the fellow.”

“No, the way I see it, it will end with one arm or leg cut off.”

“The way I see it, Master may leave him alive in a way that isn’t living at all.”

Among themselves the three of them called Scholar Cheon Master, or teacher.

“Good, let’s see whose word turns out right. Three taels of silver to whoever has it.”

“Good.”

Wang Sim, bruised blue over his whole body, cried out to Cheon Tae-san.

“I-I have attained the Way.”

Try as he might to go down, somehow he could not go down. Try as he might to get off the sparring platform, for some reason his body would not pass beyond its edge. Nor could he very well shout that he surrendered. To do so now would mean pitching every year of standing and every scrap of honor he had built into a field of dung, and he could not bring himself to it.

“What Way is it you’ve attained?”

“I have realized that living is not easy.”

“And?”

— Crunch!

Again the wooden sword drove down into the back of his neck.

“Kuh-huk! I have realized as well that a man ought to be humble.”

If only he could get off this sparring platform, he would gladly have crawled between the scholar’s legs. The places picked out for the blows so far were the acupoints of the tendon-splitting, bone-dislocating torture, and the pain that came with them was past telling. Cold sweat ran down his whole body, and tears and snot ran as far as his chin.

The spectators looking on could no longer keep up even their mocking cheers, and watched in silence.

Watched the scholar beating Wang Sim with overwhelming strength.

The Iron-Blood Faction’s men were enraged at the sight and shouted.

“That scholar fellow has unfolded a black art!”

“There is no way the Young Faction Leader could be beaten by that scholar fellow. He must certainly have used some black art!”

They shouted about black arts, but nobody gave it so much as half an ear. There was nothing strange in unorthodox-sect people using black arts, and in any case nobody thought this was one.

“And?”

The words were barely out of Cheon Tae-san’s mouth before the answer came leaping out.

“Don’t get above yourself. And if you do get above yourself, pick your man first.”

“Mm. Weak, isn’t it? Without a bigger enlightenment than that you’ll go on being hit.”

— Crunch!

When the wooden sword drove into his belly, Wang Sim felt the bowel-severing agony of his entrails being torn apart strand by strand.

“Guuuuagh!”

And at that Wang Sim truly did win an enlightenment through pain.

“I have realized as well that when this bastard is the problem and that bastard is the problem, the real problem is me.”

— Crunch!

The wooden sword struck the crown of his head.

“Master Scholar, I truly have changed my heart. From now on I shall live like a human being.”

“Is that so? But a man isn’t something you mend and use, he’s something you pick and use. A man who is once no good is no good for life. I don’t believe a word of it when a man says he’s changed, that he’s been mended.”

“I shall live as though I were dead. As though I were dead.”

“Good. That much sounds like a fair attainment of the Way.”

Cheon Tae-san let the wooden sword hang loose.

“Wang Sim.”

“Yes. Yes.”

Wang Sim could not meet his eyes, and cast his own down.

“If you ever want to attain the Way again, come back.”

“No. It is enough. I have already attained a great deal of the Way.”

Cheon Tae-san gave a snort of a laugh.

“Not likely. Once every last pain has gone, today’s humiliation will come back to you, sure enough. And the wish for revenge will come to a boil. But there’s one thing you’d better keep in mind. Come looking for me again, and that time you’ll go clean past attaining the Way and ascend as a feathered immortal³.”

At those words the fellow shook like an aspen. A look at his trousers showed he had wet himself a good while ago.

“I’d meant to cut off an arm or so, as you said yourself, but since you’ve attained the Way I think I’ll stop there.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Off you go.”

He had been beaten to that state, and still he bowed courteously to Cheon Tae-san as he went down off the sparring platform, and the spectators were lost for words. Wang Sim, the Iron-Blood Faction’s Young Faction Leader, was famous as an utter hellion. They might well be astonished that such a hellion had been made into a dog that does as it is told.

“Whoaa! The Scholar Divine Sword has won! I’ve made ten taels of silver out of ten coppers. Thank you, Scholar Divine Sword!”

At somebody’s shout the spectators at last began to murmur and talk about the match.

As Cheon Tae-san came down off the sparring platform, somebody shouted.

“Scholar Divine Sword!”

At that, more and more people took up the cry.

“Scholar Divine Sword!”

“Scholar Divine Sword!”

Most of the onlookers were unorthodox-sect people, and the name Scholar Divine Sword had gone up in the first place to make a mockery of him, but now they were shouting it in earnest.

But the sound hadn’t changed at all; only the meaning had. The Divine Sword part was clear enough; it was the Scholar that had quietly shifted underneath it, the same word to the ear but a different one to the eye. Listening closely, it was not the scholar who studies letters but the scholar who studies wickedness⁴. Which was to say that, taking him for a scholar of the unorthodox sects, they had made him a wicked scholar.

Cheon Tae-san thought it apt enough, and gave a snort.

“Whoa, even the way he snorts is every inch a scholar of the unorthodox sects after all.”

Cheon Tae-san’s eyes met Mak Ji-mong’s. Mak Ji-mong was the first to look away, and then raised his wine cup.

As though he had never done any such thing.

Whoa! It brings me out in gooseflesh. Watching that Wang Sim bastard take it, it felt as though I were the one being hit.

Mak Ji-mong set the cup down and spoke.

“Now I see there was a reason for the way he squared up to me as though nobody else existed. That scholar fellow, he really is a sly one, isn’t he?”

The escort could make no answer to that.

Just then Cheon Tae-san’s eye was caught by a young man on another sparring platform, one who had beaten his opponent half to death and was laughing as though hugely pleased. There was no joy of victory in it, only the delight of a man who had trampled another underfoot.

Cheon Tae-san set the spirit energy turning. His senses opened along with the blood flow, and he picked up the young man’s energy, and he realized it was like an energy he had felt long ago in the Murim Alliance prison.

That…?

Cheon Tae-san frowned as he watched the young man fling up a hand, full of exultation.