#123: The Fallen Ones (6) — The Patriarch of Sichuan

Coo coo!

Gyeong Hang looked out the window.

An unknown birdcall rang especially loud in his ears. It was a pleasant sound, yet somehow it also sounded ominous.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

The Daoist sitting across from him, sipping tea, spoke with a smile.

“The beasts that coil themselves in Qingcheng all have something uncanny about them. It must be because the mountain’s essence is good.”

Gyeong Hang spoke stiffly.

“Even if the mountain’s essence is good, the ones playing lord over it have nothing but black hearts. Soon, a few peaks will start wasting away first.”

“Ha ha, is that so?”

The man was a middle-aged fellow who looked a little past forty. He wore no Daoist crown, but he wore a worn Daoist robe. His clothes were shabby, yet the skin that showed was smooth for his age. His air was also unusual.

Gyeong Hang thought. For some time now, this Daoist who came to keep him company in conversation was no ordinary man.

He was clearly a Kangho master beyond imagining. His eye, having seen countless masters, wasn’t dead yet.

“How has your health been lately?”

“Why would it be bad? Meals come on time without fail, and I drink tea I never once drank while I was in the clan. For living, there’s nothing lacking.”

There was a barb in his words.

The Daoist scratched his head.

“I know that even if I say this, it won’t comfort you, but you only need to endure a little longer.”

In an instant, Gyeong Hang’s eyes sharpened.

“Do you want to mock me?”

“How could that be?”

“Endure a little longer and I’ll be freed? That means the time is near for my son to die by that bastard grandson’s hand. Is that something to say in front of a father?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. But I won’t deny it was a remark open to misunderstanding. I apologize.”

Gyeong Hang stared at the Daoist, then let out a sigh.

“Who would I blame? Not only did I ruin the clan with useless greed, I couldn’t even keep my own child in check. So I’m paying for it in my old age.”

The Daoist looked at Gyeong Hang with an even gaze.

In Sichuan, Gyeong Hang was a legendary figure.

Born into the Divine Iron Merchant House, he had been the first in history to receive the absolute support of all the smiths and merchants under him. Thanks to that, Divine Iron’s name, already influential, became far stronger.

But even a man like that made more than a few mistakes. Some of those mistakes were enough to bring deadly backlash.

Even so, the reason the Divine Iron Merchant House could reach its current position was because Gyeong Hang was that smart, and that capable.

The Daoist smiled.

“Wait calmly. Then someday, something good will happen.”

Gyeong Hang’s eyes bloodshot.

“Why don’t you step in?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was Patriarch, and even after I stepped down, how many offerings did I give to Daoling Palace on Mount Qingcheng? Isn’t it thanks to our Divine Iron that today’s Azure Cloud Daoist Hall and Crimson Haze Daoist Hall can even exist?”

The Daoist only smiled, without a word.

Gyeong Hang, about to press further, soon sighed.

‘Pathetic.’

When a man is driven into a corner, he ends up saying things he never once said his whole life.

If he pressed further, only he would become ugly. And besides, the Daoist before him was someone who had come saying he would keep him company in talk. He wasn’t someone to vent on. That said, he didn’t feel like apologizing either.

“It’s cold. Sleep well under your blankets.”

The Daoist rose from his seat and headed for the door.

Gyeong Hang didn’t even look at him. He only strained to calm his roughened breathing.

The Daoist opened the door, hesitated, then turned back.

“Supreme Patriarch.”

“…”

“Daoling Palace isn’t acting like this because it’s forgotten your help. Please understand that much.”

The fury he had barely soothed surged again.

Gyeong Hang shouted, face reddening.

“If I’d known you were this kind of person, I would’ve made offerings to Emei’s Golden Summit Temple!”

The Daoist smiled bitterly.

“Those Buddhists wouldn’t have stepped in easily either.”

With that, the Daoist closed the door and left.

Left alone, Gyeong Hang leaned back in his chair with a weary face.

Moisture slowly gathered in his bloodshot eyes.

“You bastard. Are you truly planning to go before your father?”

After closing the door, the Daoist walked along the narrow path to the right of the hut.

How long did he walk like that?

“What interesting talk did you have?”

Someone with arms folded revealed himself before the Daoist.

He was neatly dressed, with a face so plain it had no distinguishing feature. On his back he carried a single ancient sword, its blade rather wide.

The Daoist spoke with a smile.

“How come I don’t see your junior brother today?”

“Answer. What did you talk about?”

“Hoh. I’m under no obligation to tell you even that.”

The man with the ancient sword, Go Ak, the elder of the Northland Twin Demons, turned icy-eyed.

“You deliberately used internal energy so no sound would leak out.”

“Because I don’t like rats eavesdropping. I ask for your understanding.”

“Do you want to die?”

“If you’re that curious, why don’t you go press that poor old man?”

Go Ak glared at the Daoist in silence.

The Daoist grinned.

“Will you move aside? I have to go report to the Palace Lord.”

“The way you lot who ‘cultivate the Dao’ behave is no different from a Murim sect.”

“Maoshan was the same.”

“?!”

“What’s so surprising about that?”

Saaaak!

Birds startled and took flight at the killing intent spilling from Go Ak’s body.

“For the Lesser Patriarch’s sake, I’ll endure it once. But if you insult Maoshan again, Daoling Palace will become ashes.”

The Daoist shook his head.

“It won’t be easy. Daoling Palace is crawling with assassins around it.”

“You lunatics. You bring assassins into a Daoist hall?”

“Interpret it kindly, if you can. Qingcheng’s Dao is green and deep enough to move even butchers who kill people. I’d rather you didn’t misunderstand.”

Go Ak glared at the Daoist for a long while, then slowly opened the way.

Walking on calmly, the Daoist suddenly looked up at the sky.

‘?!’

The Daoist’s face, always relaxed, stiffened in an instant.

But only for a moment.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Get lost.”

“And be careful tonight.”

“What?”

The Daoist smiled softly and waved a hand at the air.

“The cold mountain wind stings like shards of a dagger. Trouble always breaks out at times like this.”

Paaang!

The sound of the air tearing was like a drum bursting.

Jin-hyeon’s speed, sprinting with the Howling Wind Flying Horse Art, was the fastest it had been since he returned. It was so fast there wasn’t even a flutter from his clothes.

Han Cheol-sang’s movement art, chasing behind him, was also incredible. If Jin-hyeon was like a gale, Han Cheol-sang ran like a bird beating its wings.

How long did they run like that?

At last, Mount Qingcheng, stained with darkness, came into view.

“Patriarch.”

“I know.”

Huuuuwoong!

Even as he tore through the wind, Jin-hyeon’s senses were sharp.

The Heavenly Wolf Qi, not shown outward, became a flame and hid inside his limbs. It was heated enough to unleash an explosive blow at any moment.

‘There are many.’

Seomun Hoe’s information was precise and accurate.

A small light flickered midway up one of Mount Qingcheng’s nameless peaks. It was a lamp lit inside a hut.

And around that peak, dozens of masters were hiding.

‘Just what is this?’

Jin-hyeon couldn’t understand it.

No matter how much he’d lived with only a hammer in hand, he still had ears to hear and a head that could think.

As far as he knew, the Divine Iron Merchant House’s martial force wasn’t much different from Mighty Tiger’s.

Still, it was considered impressive. Their overall strength was comparable, but their numbers were fewer. Meaning, they had more masters. He had heard that directly from the guard captain.

But the presence of masters hidden all over that peak was real.

‘They couldn’t have poured in all the merchant house’s strength. Then they’re either masters gathered in secret, or hired after I died.’

Either way, a fight was inevitable.

Cheolkeok!

The Indestructible Sword, drawn free along with its sheath, exuded a sinister killing intent in the dark.

“Do we hit them right away?”

“Doesn’t look like words will work.”

“I don’t think so either.”

It was then.

Hwaaak!

He didn’t vent it more than needed, but he also didn’t deliberately kill his presence.

Jin-hyeon and Han Cheol-sang’s storm-like sprint spread heavy noise and ominous qi-waves. Any first-rate master would have noticed them.

Seureung!

Shards of light scattered across the peak. The hidden masters had drawn their weapons.

And.

Chaaang!

A crisp draw sounded from the lower part of the peak.

He had clearly infused internal energy into it on purpose. It was a warning not to come any closer.

“Brother Han.”

“Yes, I felt it too. That draw… it’s formidable.”

“Looks like those Northland Twin Demons or whatever really are here.”

“Looks like it.”

Han Cheol-sang drew his saber as well.

“I’ll take the bottom. Break through and go up.”

Paaang!

Jin-hyeon increased his speed.

His movement arts, already fast, flared. Han Cheol-sang clicked his tongue inwardly at that explosive motion.

When Jin-hyeon reached the base of the peak.

Huuuk!

A heavy pressure that crushed the surroundings bore down.

It was a presence heavier and stickier than any master he had faced so far. The pressure of the qi-wave pouring out was immense.

But thinking of the life of the Eight Wastes Alliance Leader, it wasn’t so special. And the Soul-Refining Art, grown alongside the Heavenly Wolf True Art, hardened Jin-hyeon’s mind and heart like a fortress wall.

He didn’t even blink at pressure.

Paang!

As Jin-hyeon accelerated again, an invisible shockwave drew concentric rings under his feet.

Pasa-sasak!

Hundreds of weed fragments scattered with a shriek.

In the next moment, a middle-aged man entered Jin-hyeon’s sight.

‘So it was him.’

It was Heon Ya, one of the Northland Twin Demons.

The sword Heon Ya held was filled with geometric patterns. It wasn’t an ordinary sword.

“Stop! No one is allowed to enter this place—!”

In that instant, Jin-hyeon unleashed Heavenly Escape Steps.

Hook!

He vanished like a flame snuffed out, with the wind.

Heon Ya’s eyes widened. A white-haired someone who had come within thirty meters disappeared like lightning.

Then he felt a faint killing intent above his head.

Heon Ya swung his sword on instinct.

Jjeoeo-eong!

A clash so brilliant it turned bizarre rang through the entire mountain peak.

Heon Ya was startled. The footwork that vanished in an instant was one thing, but the sword pressure that came crashing down with the sheath still on was truly overwhelming.

Papang!

As Heon Ya tried to flow his sword power and attack again, his eyes went wide. The white-haired master who attacked him was already running up the peak.

“You bastard! Stop!”

The moment Heon Ya tried to chase after Jin-hyeon.

“You stop.”

Chiiiiik!

Heon Ya’s eyes wavered.

His spine turned cold at the dreadful storm of killing intent. Reflexively turning, Heon Ya slashed down diagonally.

Jjeo-eong!

A saber strike that surged in and rose up carried explosive power.

Staggering back five steps, Heon Ya immediately drew up his divine art. From the first blow alone, he realized the opponent was no easy mark.

In Heon Ya’s eyes, Han Cheol-sang stood low, holding his saber at a slant.

“And who are you?!”

“Family member one.”