Yangyang
Sword Dragon Immortal Hyeon-gong had a habit of scoring people.
The criteria varied: martial prowess, background, reputation, and so on.
Among the many miscellaneous points and deductions, two criteria were the most important—martial prowess and background.
In Hyeon-gong's own estimation, he was about seventeen out of twenty points.
With unmatched martial prowess among his peers, including his potential for growth, that was nine points out of ten. His background as the foremost prodigy of the Wudang Sect was worth about eight points.
Hyeon-gong meticulously evaluated Tang Mujin's group, one by one.
First, the familiar Namgung Myeong.
"Namgung Myeong is rather strange. He lost an arm, yet his martial prowess has increased?"
Until recently, people thought Hyeon-gong was two levels above Namgung Myeong. Hyeon-gong himself believed there was at least that much difference.
But when he met Namgung Myeong again after a long time, he seemed like an entirely different person—his tone, his aura, his martial prowess, everything.
Hyeon-gong calculated Namgung Myeong's overall score.
"Martial prowess about equal to mine: nine out of ten. Background: a perfect ten out of ten. Total: nineteen."
Though their martial prowess was similar, Namgung Myeong's background far outshone his own.
The Wudang Sect was certainly a prestigious sect, but it paled somewhat in comparison to the Namgung Clan.
The Namgung Clan was one of the most renowned among the great families. And the current clan head, Namgung Jincheon, was a sword demon who had already transcended the wall of the supreme realm.
After a moment's thought, Hyeon-gong adjusted Namgung Myeong's score.
"Since he's lost an arm, his potential for growth must be a little lower. I should deduct a point."
Even with a point deducted, he still had eighteen points—slightly higher than Hyeon-gong's own seventeen.
"…He was decent before, but now I really should get closer to him."
Next, it was time to evaluate Namgung Myeong's two underlings.
The beggar stood out the most.
"First-rate martial prowess. Six points out of ten? No, maybe six and a half. Background looks unremarkable. If he's from the Beggar's Sect, maybe four or five points at best. Not much of a character to be carrying around as a subordinate."
Just as he was about to dismiss him, Hyeon-gong noticed the beggar's five-knotted rope. His eyes widened.
The Five-Knot Rank meant deputy sect leader level, and there were only five in the entire Beggar's Sect.
Six Knots marked the sect leader and law enforcers. Seven Knots were elders. Eight Knots were the heir to the sect leader, the Hougai. Nine Knots were the sect leader himself.
Even counting the law enforcers and elders, there were fewer than fifty members above the Five-Knot rank.
Of course, "rank fifty" didn't sound impressive at first. But the Beggar's Sect was famous for its sheer size—some even said it had a hundred thousand members.
So rank fifty in the Beggar's Sect carried a completely different weight compared to rank fifty in any other great sect.
Hyeon-gong approached Hong Geolgae and asked softly,
"Did you say you're Brother Hong? May I ask how old you are this year?"
"Twenty-two."
"Haha! I'm two years older. Please, speak comfortably."
"Alright."
"…?"
The informal speech came out immediately, as if he'd been waiting for it. But Hyeon-gong didn't take offense.
Being a Five-Knot member at twenty-two was remarkable enough. This wasn't simply about rank fifty.
There was no way someone could achieve such a position by piling up ordinary achievements at that age. Absolutely not.
"Could he be faking his rank?"
Impossible. If he were that kind of fraud, Namgung Myeong wouldn't keep him close.
Thinking back, Hong Geolgae even spoke informally to Namgung Myeong, who was a year older than him.
The fact that Namgung Myeong kept a "mere first-rate" beggar at his side, and even tolerated his casual speech, meant that Hong Geolgae was considered an equal.
At that moment, a thought struck Hyeon-gong.
"Come to think of it, I heard the Hougai position is vacant."
Suddenly, everything clicked into place.
"This guy is the Hougai-designate."
The Hougai was the heir to the Beggar's Sect leader.
In other words, being designated as Hougai meant he was essentially the next sect leader.
Not even the Wudang Sect or the Namgung Clan's patriarch could compare to the Beggar's Sect leader in terms of influence. After all, the Beggar's Sect was the largest group in the martial world.
There might be debates about who was strongest in martial prowess, but in terms of sheer numbers, the Beggar's Sect was unrivaled.
"Martial prowess: six and a half. Background: ten out of ten—no, even more. That means his total should be at least seventeen points or higher."
Once convinced that Hong Geolgae was at least his equal, Hyeon-gong became noticeably more amiable.
"Brother Hong, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"Sure. You can speak casually too."
"Haha, shall I?"
There was a two-year age difference, yet he treated him as an equal rather than an elder brother.
The thought "what a rude brat" briefly crossed his mind, but remembering he was the future Beggar's Sect leader made it feel only natural. They were, after all, destined to lead the next generation of the martial world together.
"That Namgung Myeong fellow is pretty sly. Is he finally becoming an adult?"
Finally, Hyeon-gong's gaze fell on Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae's other underling. The one called Tang Mujin. Crossing his arms, Hyeon-gong scrutinized him carefully.
"His achievements are modest, but he's young with plenty of potential. Eight or eight and a half points, perhaps."
That left his background. But with no clues to go on, Hyeon-gong asked him directly,
"Brother Dang."
"Ah, I'm also twenty-two."
"I wasn't asking about your age. What I'd like to know is—what sect are you from?"
"None."
"…But you've learned martial arts, haven't you?"
"I wasn't born into a martial clan. I come from a family of physicians."
"Then perhaps you learned your family's martial arts?"
"No. We were an ordinary household of doctors, with no ties to martial arts. By chance, I met Elder Lee Chung and learned from him."
So he was a disciple of the Eccentric Doctor, Lee Chung.
Lee Chung was well-known, but only as an individual—and his reputation wasn't exactly positive.
"Martial prowess around eight. Background, maybe four points. That makes twelve. No, he's been named a future member of the Three Great Physicians of the world—better give him an extra two."
Fourteen points. Useful enough, but not someone to treat as an equal.
"If we become closer, I might allow him to call me elder brother."
Hyeon-gong looked at Tang Mujin with a faintly arrogant expression.
***
After two days of diligent travel, the four arrived near Yangyang.
They wanted to enter immediately, but spotted suspicious figures loitering outside the city.
At first glance, they looked like fruit pickers, but instinct screamed otherwise. Almost certainly assassins' watchers.
"Let's take a short break."
The group sat down in a suitable spot and rubbed their tired legs.
During the brief rest, Hyeon-gong asked,
"So, what's the plan now?"
Namgung Myeong answered.
"Simple. We'll raid the Jin Clan in Yangyang."
"Why the Jin Clan?"
"Because that's the assassins' base."
He didn't bother explaining further, but Hyeon-gong only shrugged.
"I'm a little skeptical about your source of information… but I guess we'll see. Anyway, don't we need more help?"
"No."
Namgung Myeong's immediate response made Hyeon-gong frown.
"You do know what kind of strength they have, right?"
"No."
"…Even counting me, there's only four of us?"
"That's right."
"And yet you're going to strike at the assassins' headquarters?"
"Exactly."
The other day, when Namgung Myeong said the three of them would crush the assassins, Hyeon-gong thought it was just bravado. But apparently, he wasn't joking.
Hyeon-gong stared at Namgung Myeong.
"What the hell is he thinking?"
If he was thinking at all, it would be a relief. Judging from his slightly blank expression, it didn't look like he had any hidden plan.
Hyeon-gong calmly tried to lay things out. It was an elder's role to correct the foolish.
"Think rationally. Does that sound like a reasonable plan?"
"Why, are you scared?"
He asked if it was reasonable, yet got that response. Hyeon-gong's tone rose in irritation.
"No, that's not the point. Let's act with common sense."
"If you're scared, you can back out."
"Who said I'm scared? You know that's not the issue here."
He couldn't admit he was scared, so he flared up instead—but in truth, he was a little afraid.
Hyeon-gong wanted to live long, become the head of the Wudang Sect, and enjoy a life of prestige. He had been blessed with extraordinary talent, so wouldn't it be a waste to die young? Especially if it was his own life on the line.
Concealing his true feelings, Hyeon-gong said,
"If this were a righteous war, I would gladly sacrifice my life. But this is revenge. Do you really want to fail and die in vain? Killed by nameless, worthless assassins?"
After quietly listening, Tang Mujin spoke up.
"Have you ever seen an arrow so afraid of breaking that it never leaves the bow?"
It was such a striking line that Hyeon-gong wavered for a moment. He carved Tang Mujin's words deep into his heart, planning to use them himself when the time came.
But a brilliant line was one thing—common sense was another. No rational person could accept such a reckless plan.
After thinking it over, Hyeon-gong came up with a clever solution.
"Tell me, is there any reason we must strike the assassins tonight?"
"There isn't."
"There's a mid-tier sect in Yangyang that I know of. What if we ask for their help?"
"Hm."
Tang Mujin didn't look pleased. Hyeon-gong let out a small sigh.
"You said yourselves that you failed to wipe out the assassins' remnants in Sangshin Village because you lacked numbers. Are you planning to make the same mistake twice? Will you chase revenge, only to let them escape again?"
If things went well, blocking the fleeing remnants would be crucial.
But even more important was having reliable allies when things turned dangerous.
Hyeon-gong had no desire to lose his life in someone else's revenge just to satisfy his vanity.
"You're right. If we're going to do this, we should do it as thoroughly as possible."
At last, even Tang Mujin nodded. Since it wasn't Wudang or another great clan but merely a mid-tier sect, it didn't feel like their revenge would be overshadowed.
"Good. I'll go into Yangyang first and request their cooperation. I'm not publicly tied to you three, so my face won't give us away. I'll take responsibility for gathering reinforcements. Meet me tomorrow at midnight by the largest well in central Yangyang."
"Understood."
Hyeon-gong wore a triumphant expression. He was proud of himself—of his persuasive tongue, and his clever mind that had convinced the three fools.
"Don't be late."
With that, Hyeon-gong headed toward Yangyang.
***
The next night, Tang Mujin's group rose in the darkness. As always, a fine drizzle fell from the sky.
To their surprise, Namgung Myeong wasn't wearing black clothes or a mask.
"You're not wearing black tonight?"
"Of course not. People might mistake us for the assassins."
"Mmm."
The three cautiously approached the outskirts of Yangyang.
Though the night was deep and the darkness thick, there was still someone wandering near the city's edge.
He was circling the same area as the man from the night before, as if stationed there to stand watch.
"Wait here."
Namgung Myeong slipped into the shadows, then suddenly appeared behind the wandering man.
Without hesitation, he clamped a hand over the man's mouth and ripped open his tunic. With a tearing sound, a black butterfly tattoo was revealed on his chest. Assassins.
Crack. Namgung Myeong snapped the man's neck on the spot, then motioned to Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae.
They crept over, holding their breath.
"Let's go."
The three slipped into Yangyang, suppressing their presence to the utmost. The darkness and the drizzle kept the streets nearly empty.
Before long, they spotted a large well. Around it, more than twenty martial artists had gathered.
None appeared to be at the peak realm, but all seemed to be at least second-rate experts. It was going to be a dangerous night, so the rabble had been filtered out beforehand.
Hyeon-gong proudly introduced the men.
"These are the great heroes of the Taiui Sword Sect, here to help us destroy the assassins. This is their sect leader, Yang Gwak of Yangyang."
"I'm but a humble swordsman. It is an honor to lend a hand in such an important matter."
Yang Gwak bowed modestly. He looked a little over forty, neatly dressed and full of vigor.
Hong Geolgae looked extremely pleased with the size of the reinforcements.
But Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong felt something strange.
They had never been to Yangyang before, and they had never met Yang Gwak. Yet the name "Taiui Sword Sect" rang oddly familiar—tickling at their memories.
It wasn't them, but one of the sect's disciples who noticed first.
"Uh…?"
The disciple hurried over to Yang Gwak and whispered something in his ear.
Though brief, the whisper made Yang Gwak's face turn deadly serious.
After a moment of thought, he turned to Tang Mujin.
"By any chance, may I ask your name, young sir?"
"Tang Mujin."
"Our elder says your face looks familiar. Did you, perhaps, go to Nogunsan last year?"
Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong froze stiff.
Nogunsan. Taiui Sword Sect.
Now they remembered. The peak master Tang Mujin had butchered into a hedgehog at Nogunsan had been none other than the sect leader of the Taiui Sword Sect.
And now, they were not far from Nogunsan. They should have anticipated this.
Tang Mujin forced a sheepish smile.
"Well, isn't this a coincidence. It would be nice if the former sect leader had been your mortal enemy… but I suppose that's too much to hope for?"
"Of course. He was my father."
Yang Gwak smiled broadly and gestured to his disciples.
"Kill them."
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