Where The Sword Points (5)

Ha Suk-heon straightened his expression, then frowned at a sudden sense of wrongness.

‘What’s this?’

He had been so focused on his nephew that he had missed them. Two presences grew distinct.

‘Masters?!’

Kkiiik!

The door opened and three men entered.

Ha Suk-heon’s eyes fixed on the youth in the middle.

He couldn’t help it. His look alone was extraordinary. A lion’s mane of white hair. Pale skin. Long limbs. At a glance, even fragile-looking.

Look a little closer, and the height and set of the shoulders were ample. Though not a rough-hewn face, his high nose, sharp jaw, and keen gaze held unexpected steel.

‘Remarkable.’

Ha Suk-heon’s pupils widened.

‘A man like this exists?!’

At first the unique look caught his attention. Now it vanished. What mattered wasn’t the outside, but what it held.

The white-haired youth radiated an extraordinary presence. It was far removed from the distinctive, solid pressure that masters who had honed a swordsman’s blade intent or refined their fist-and-palm arts typically carried.

It was the sober weight only one who had skipped stages could show. Quiet as a shadow at rest. A storm when revealed. A master wrapped head to toe in the stillness before the gale.

Ha Suk-heon was startled that the youth’s realm lacked little compared to his own.

‘Who in the world is he?!’

Before his surprise at the white-haired youth had even faded.

‘That one as well?’

His gaze, turning by reflex, halted again.

There was a man who looked late-twenties, at most mid-thirties.

He too sheathed his aura to perfection, yet that expert’s presence was no less. In a way, more striking. A hawk at rest on a rocky mountain with folded wings, yet with wings that, if spread, would cover a whole peak.

‘And who is this?’

Two masters he had never seen.

Their impression was so strong he forgot the original invitee, Do Il-gang, for a moment.

“You wretch!”

What snapped Ha Suk-heon back was Ha Jun’s furious shout.

“How dare you come here without propriety!”

He turned to his nephew. The fool’s face was twisted like a ghoul’s.

“What are the doorkeepers doing! Letting in anyone not invited, are they in their right minds!”

The words were, in their way, fair. Ha Suk-heon did not scold him.

Then Jin-hyeon spoke.

“I wasn’t invited. I sensed ill intent, so I came myself.”

“You wretch! You trust that paltry skill and dare insult the Cheongyang Association?!”

Ha Suk-heon nearly sighed. His nephew’s words were so childish and foolish his vision swam.

He was about to stop Ha Jun.

“You speak of insult after bribing a branch officer?”

Frost spread over Jin-hyeon’s face.

“That conduct insults not only the Sichuan Branch but all of Sichuan Murim. What else?”

“Y-you!”

Ha Suk-heon barked.

“Hold your tongue!”

At his uncle’s leonine roar, Ha Jun jerked.

His face went pale. In his uncle’s stare he felt fierce anger and killing intent beyond anger.

“I told you to stretch your legs only after seeing where you’ll lie. Your ignorant prancing is worse than a donkey’s. Do you wish me to break your neck here in your father’s stead?”

By any measure, he meant it. Ha Jun hurriedly bowed his head.

“I—I am sorry!”

Watching, Jin-hyeon couldn’t suppress a snort. When he gathered the Eight Martial Houses’ scions he played at being a stern commander. Now he was a mouse before a cat.

Ha Jun’s pale face flushed red again. He had heard the derisive sound.

‘Damn bastard! I’ll kill you with my own hands!’

Ha Suk-heon slowly rose.

“Welcome. I am Heon, holding an elder’s seat in the Cheongyang Association.”

Jin-hyeon’s eyes gleamed.

‘Strong.’

One of the top five in the Cheongyang Association. His force was truly impressive.

‘Top five? Then there are at least two or three stronger than him.’

Inwardly, Jin-hyeon was surprised.

‘Judging by this lineup, the Cheongyang Association overwhelms the other Houses.’

Temperaments differ, so absolutes are impossible, but on what was shown he seemed above the Abundant Prosperity Guild Master, Gu Yong-seon.

The Abundant Prosperity Guild claimed second among the Eight Martial Houses. If an elder of a peer house outstripped the leader of that place, the Cheongyang Association’s level was overwhelming.

‘Indeed.’

Gu Yong-seon’s words came back.

‘They are growing power in secret to unify Sichuan Murim… So it was true.’

He didn’t know how, but with this gap there was no need to stay so quiet outwardly.

‘They must be aiming at something.’

Collecting his thoughts, Jin-hyeon cupped fist to palm.

“I am Jin-hyeon. It is an honor to meet an elder of the Cheongyang Association.”

“Jin-hyeon…?”

Pondering, Ha Suk-heon exclaimed inwardly.

‘So this is him. The one who broke Mighty Tiger and caught the Fiends of the Red Sword Sect.’

He had heard it by hearsay. But Cheongyang Association executives were not idle enough to mind every sudden upstart.

Yet face-to-face with the man of rumor, he found an astonishing talent he’d been remiss not to watch.

‘A youth in his twenties at most, yet force above a House’s leader…’

Tremendous talent. Even with a peerless Divine Art, this achievement merited the name genius.

‘He lacks nothing beside the orthodox clans’ young prodigies.’

Ha Suk-heon’s face grew cautious.

He was not swollen with pride like other leaders. He did not misjudge foes. He had pride as an elder of the Association, as one who bore the Ha blood, yet it didn’t cloud his eyes.

“It seems today is a day of days. I came to drill my lacking nephew, found an excellent talent, and now meet a warrior so great as you.”

“You flatter me.”

“Since you are here, be seated. Conversations should not be done standing.”

With that, Ha Jun, who had stood throughout, was demoted to one unworthy of conversation.

Jin-hyeon, Han Cheol-sang, and Do Il-gang took seats.

“Do you drink?”

“I do, but talk should come first.”

“Heh heh, true.”

Ha Suk-heon spoke candidly.

“My nephew is lacking without end, yet there is sense in him. I invited that youth there. How did two unrelated masters come with him?”

His gesture toward Do Il-gang was full of poise.

Direct, yet free of provocation. A craft built by experience.

“It couldn’t be helped. You sent an invitation to one I have already made my own. Worried the Cheongyang Association would steal a fine talent, I could only come, if only in the name of escort.”

Ha Suk-heon’s eyes widened.

“Made your own…?”

“I intend to build a small family near Jayang. He has chosen to walk with me.”

Jin-hyeon smiled.

“And since it let me meet even an elder of the Cheongyang Association, it seems my eye for people is not bad.”

“Heh heh.”

He laughed with ease, but his mind raced.

‘Found a family? A genius like him?’

He did not know what art he practiced, but he was at least a disciple of a master who could be called a region’s hegemon.

In short, a high art honed by a gifted talent had reached this realm. At this pace, within ten years none in Sichuan could oppose him.

‘Confidence suits him. But a family, and not a sect…’

Ha Suk-heon asked gently,

“It seems Sichuan Murim must tense again. If a master of your level founds a martial family, it can grow greatly in short order.”

Courteous talk.

A master might be able to stand alone, but building a power base and leading it was another matter entirely. To expand a force on any real scale, you needed more than one or two things, manpower, money, and an intelligence network, among them

“Just a small family, as I said. I aim to make no one tense, nor to brawl.”

A glint turned in Ha Suk-heon’s eyes.

It was hard to tell what he meant. Spoken so openly, it sounded like he’d made up his mind to expand his power base. On the other hand, it could just as easily mean he didn’t want to end up at odds with the Cheongyang Association.

There was no reason to daydream. Ha Suk-heon asked outright.

“To found a family is to take root in Sichuan. Then, do you wish to tie bonds with our Association?”

Startled, Ha Jun looked at Ha Suk-heon.

The uncle he knew was famed for cold, thorough handling. And that man asked, openly, if he would bind to the Cheongyang Association.

‘Impossible!’

He wasn’t worth it, Ha Jun thought.

Jin-hyeon gave a wry smile.

“With fate, a single cup makes blood brothers.”

Still ambiguous. Ha Suk-heon pressed a touch harder.

“Our Association stands at Sichuan Murim’s peak. A tie would do you no harm. If you wish, I can arrange a private audience with the Association Leader.”

“You grant great favor to a fool with whom you’ve scarcely traded words.”

“Nonsense.”

Ha Suk-heon spoke with severity.

“At your age, with that skill, I know your talent is no trifle. A person proves worth with skill and deed. I am not so dull as to miss your value for lack of words.”

It was praise among praises.

Ha Jun was aghast, and consumed by jealousy. He had never heard his uncle speak so of one so much younger than himself.

Jin-hyeon’s eyes sank calm.

“I came only because I will not have my person taken. I wished to make that part clear.”

Ha Suk-heon smiled faintly.

“Your resolve to settle matters with the Cheongyang Association itself tells me you are uncommon.”

“You sought my man. Now you want me?”

“Who would want to let someone as exceptional as you slip away? That young man is impressive too, but for now he’s nothing more than potential. Your talent, however, has already come into full bloom. How could I not be tempted?”

“I can only thank you for seeing me kindly.”

“I’m looking at you with a cold, clear eye. If you have ambition enough…”

Ha Suk-heon’s eyes narrowed.

“I will seek a suitable child of the Ha blood.”

Now he was openly expressing his desire to make him family.

“I see your eye equals your martial art. You do not seem to have come merely to keep me from taking your man.”

“…”

“You know your own value, do you not? You came to me with a pretext on purpose.”

Light grew in Ha Suk-heon’s eyes.

“An elder of the Cheongyang Association has acknowledged your value. Is that not sufficient for your trouble?”

Those words confirmed Jin-hyeon’s thought.

And he chose to verify it once more.

“If you answer my question honestly, I will consider it.”

A young man’s hot-bloodedness, and pride.

Ha Suk-heon smiled. A superior talent, yet still green. He could handle him well.

“Ask freely. I will tell you anything.”

“What price in blood are you setting for unifying Sichuan Murim?”