Yangyang
The disciples of the Taeui Sword Sect crept toward Tang Mujin's group.
Though they seemed a little flustered that their target of attack had suddenly changed, there was no sign they intended to retreat or flee.
The reasons were twofold.
First, they had a clear justification: they had to avenge the former sect leader of the Taeui Sword Sect. Second, the sect's disciples ranged from second-rate to first-rate martial artists—the stage at which martial men are at their boldest.
With skills at the second-rate or first-rate level, one could make not only common townsfolk but even street thugs who had trained a bit lower their eyes.
In other words, in terms of everyday practicality, there isn't much difference between the martial arts of a second-rate fighter and that of a peerless grandmaster.
Moreover, until one reaches the very peak of the first-rate stage, one cannot even truly perceive the towering wall of the supreme level. Thus, their respect for true masters could only remain hazy.
In this sudden confrontation between Tang Mujin's group and the Taeui Sword Sect disciples, the most bewildered person was, without question, Hyeongong.
"What in the world is going on?"
He had only called the Taeui Sword Sect disciples here with good intentions, and yet the atmosphere had become vicious.
Of course, if the Taeui Sword Sect were just a "sect he knew in passing," Hyeongong would have quietly backed away and sided with Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae.
But the problem was that the Taeui Sword Sect was on friendly terms with the Wudang Sect. In fact, they were part of the "Jeongcheon Alliance," an alliance of Hubei sects organized under the leadership of the Wudang.
While the Wudang naturally headed the alliance, several well-known mid-sized sects were also affiliated.
Since Hyeongong harbored a grand ambition to unify the numerous scattered alliances across the central plains under the Jeongcheon Alliance, he regularly attended its internal events and even the rites of its member sects. Only a few months earlier, he had gone to the funeral of the Taeui Sword Sect's previous leader.
In other words, for Hyeongong to side with Tang Mujin and attack the Taeui Sword Sect was unthinkable.
But conversely, siding with the Taeui Sword Sect and striking at Tang Mujin's group was equally problematic.
To earn the enmity of the Namgung Clan's heir and the Beggars' Sect's heir apparent—no one could predict what storms that might bring. The chances that Hyeongong himself would be forced to shoulder that responsibility were extremely high.
Thus, he desperately hoped no battle would break out. Whoever won, nothing good would come to him—only endless responsibility.
The only fortunate thing was that the balance of power seemed tilted.
From Hyeongong's perspective, the Taeui Sword Sect clearly held the advantage over Tang Mujin's party.
A dozen second-rate fighters could easily suppress Hong Geolgae, and if the first-rate fighters joined forces, they could face Namgung Myeong and Tang Mujin—perhaps assigning a couple to Mujin, and five or six to Namgung.
When the balance tips so decisively, fighters at the supreme level often avoid confrontation rather than risk their pride. Neither Namgung Myeong nor Tang Mujin was a fool, so surely they would think the same.
"And besides, the assassins of Salmak might intervene too. In such an overwhelmingly unfavorable situation, they'll surely flee."
Hyeongong turned to look at Tang Mujin's group.
But instead of retreating as he had believed, the three were preparing to fight.
Their faces even brimmed with confidence, as though they were certain of victory.
"…What confidence is this?"
Bewildered, Hyeongong immediately sent Namgung Myeong a secret voice transmission, trying to mediate.
— What's this? Do you mean to fight?
— Of course. Let's finish this quickly and storm Salmak.
— Are you serious?
— Naturally. We've only lost an ally we hadn't planned on in the first place. It's no great problem.
— Calm yourself. If you fight here, Salmak will intervene.
— Then we'll finish them all before Salmak arrives.
Hyeongong narrowed his eyes at Namgung Myeong. Wipe out the Taeui Sword Sect before Salmak arrived? Impossible.
He sent another urgent transmission.
— I'll try to calm the Taeui Sword Sect, so retreat for now.
— Retreat? Be reasonable. We killed their former sect leader, father to their current leader. How could they possibly be calmed?
The point was so irrefutable that Hyeongong had no reply.
He felt the ominous presence and murmurs of the Taeui Sword Sect disciples creeping closer behind him. The pressure was dizzying.
"I must prevent a clash somehow!"
Desperately racking his brain, he found one solution.
He unleashed the loudest, most resounding palm technique he knew—the Thunderclap Palm.
BANG!
When Hyeongong thrust his palm toward the sky, a thunderous explosion shook the air.
At his sudden action, both the approaching Taeui Sword Sect fighters and Tang Mujin's group faltered.
Hyeongong shouted in a booming voice:
"Restrain yourselves! Before drawing weapons, it is right to hear the circumstances! I, Soaring Dragon Sword Hyeongong, pledge my name and sect's honor to stand neutral and discern the truth from both sides!"
But Hyeongong had no intention of truly discerning circumstances. If this matter could be solved through words, it would never have come to such a pass.
He had unleashed the Thunderclap Palm not to mediate but to create a common enemy.
Surely the assassins of Salmak, already on edge, would not have missed that deafening sound. They would come here seeking its source.
And once they appeared, Namgung Myeong's group and the Taeui Sword Sect would be forced to join forces against them.
People bickering among themselves often find their grudges dissolve when they must fight back-to-back against a life-threatening foe.
Furthermore, Namgung Myeong and Tang Mujin must have had some reason to slay the former Taeui leader—so perhaps, in the goodwill born of shared battle, there might even be a chance for peaceful resolution.
Hyeongong shivered with exhilaration. To form such a brilliant plan in just a single breath!
"What genius. My stratagems reach as high as my martial skill."
And indeed, his plan seemed to work. From the roof of the opposite building, dark silhouettes emerged—the assassins of Salmak.
They peered down at the tense standoff by the well, as though gauging what was happening.
Hyeongong waited until enough assassins had gathered, then, with an exaggerated gesture, pointed to the roof.
"Ah! The vicious assassins of Salmak have shown themselves! Heroes, set aside your quarrel—let us drive out the villains first!"
But contrary to his plan, Tang Mujin's group and the Taeui Sword Sect only hesitated, never once turning to watch each other's backs.
Worse, subtle glances began to pass—not between Mujin's side and the Sword Sect—but between the Sword Sect and the assassins.
"…Something's wrong."
The fighters of the Taeui Sword Sect and the assassins of Salmak stared at each other for a long moment, then, as if on cue, both turned their heads toward Tang Mujin's group.
Hyeongong instantly understood. Instead of Namgung Myeong and the Sword Sect uniting against Salmak, it was the Sword Sect and Salmak that had formed an alliance.
"…Ruined."
A wave of dizziness struck him. He couldn't even think of a solution anymore.
"How did it come to this?"
His heart plummeted, tears almost welling. He never should have meddled from the start.
Should he help Namgung Myeong's group escape? Or side with the Sword Sect and assassins to finish them off?
If he kept his mouth shut, perhaps the deaths of the three could be concealed…
"No. If even one survives, I'm finished. What should I do?"
Just then, he saw Tang Mujin's party step half a pace back. Deciding they could not face both the Sword Sect and Salmak together, they seemed resolved to flee. Hyeongong glimpsed a faint hope.
Tang Mujin shouted:
"Now!"
With that brief cry, his group sprinted toward the outskirts of Yangyang.
Their speed was far too great for the Sword Sect disciples—mere first- and second-rate fighters—to match. Only four assassins, swift of foot, managed to give chase.
Quickly, Hyeongong sent a secret transmission to the Sword Sect leader:
— Do not worry! I'll capture them and lay bare the truth behind the former leader's death!
The sect leader nodded, trusting both in the Sword Sect's ties to Wudang and in the personal bond Hyeongong had shown by attending the late leader's funeral.
Hyeongong sped after the assassins, chasing Tang Mujin.
He still hadn't decided which side to ultimately support—the Sword Sect or Mujin's group.
But one thing was certain: now was the time to move. If he let Mujin escape, everything would be in vain.
He poured his energy into his movement technique.
***
Tang Mujin's three led the way, pursued by the four supreme-level assassins, with Hyeongong running in the rear.
When Hyeongong kept a subtle distance just behind the assassins, they glanced back from time to time, as if uneasy about him.
Hyeongong sent a secret voice transmission to the man who seemed to be their leader.
— I am Soaring Dragon Sword Hyeongong of the Wudang Sect. To cooperate with the likes of you is shameful, but today it is unavoidable that we join forces. As a martial man of Wudang, I must avenge the former leader of the Taeui Sword Sect.
The assassins did not doubt Hyeongong's words.
They knew of the Jeongcheon Alliance, and they knew of the relationship between Wudang and the Taeui Sword Sect.
After all, isn't the very reason small sects come under the wing of greater ones to prepare for days like this?
The assassins might have regarded Hyeongong with caution, but they did not display much hostility.
Moreover, his declaration was delightful news for them.
Even with four supreme-level assassins, Tang Mujin's group was not an easy foe. To win might still mean casualties.
The losses they had already suffered against the "strange entities" were severe; if more lives were lost here, even Salmak's very survival might be endangered.
But if they had Hyeongong as a solid ally, their worries lessened. Numerical advantage, after all, multiplies destructive power exponentially the wider it grows.
The leader of Salmak, Black Butterfly, sent him a secret transmission.
— Understood. Today's cooperation will be buried in the dark. You need not worry about the aftermath.
How long had they been running like this? Hyeongong caught sight of Namgung Myeong at the very front, glancing back repeatedly.
Suspicion was thick in Namgung's eyes, as if to ask: "Hyeongong, why in the world are you moving together with assassins?"
Hyeongong made one last analysis of the situation.
"We're far enough from Yangyang now. The Taeui disciples won't know what happens here."
"If I side with the assassins, I can easily subdue Tang Mujin's group. On the other hand, if I side with Tang Mujin and fight the assassins, I could probably win as well."
"But if I join forces with Salmak to slay Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae, the only ones who will look kindly upon it are those tied to the Taeui Sword Sect."
"If I claim that the Taeui Sword Sect joined forces with Salmak's assassins to target Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae, the elders of my sect will understand my choice."
"Even if the assassins try to slander me later, no one will believe their words."
"Between Taeui Sword Sect and the heirs of the Namgung Clan and Beggars' Sect, the latter two weigh far more heavily."
All of these thoughts were sorted in the span of a single breath.
The tangle of worries scattered like dandelion seeds before a spring breeze.
The chaotic, dizzying world became clear again, and Hyeongong's eyes sharpened.
Now all that remained was decisive action.
His footwork shifted.
Abandoning the Flowing Cloud Steps he had used until now, he unleashed the Wudang Sect's ultimate movement art, Cloud Ladder Stride.
His figure stretched in an instant, like taffy being pulled, and he closed in right behind the assassins.
But the unique cloud-treading lightness of the Cloud Ladder Stride kept them from noticing his approach in time.
Before anyone realized, his sword was drawn—and from its tip unfolded the Taiji Sword.
Hyeongong's blade pierced the back of the assassin running in the rear.
Puk. A small tearing sound.
Keok. A short scream.
Thud. The sound of tangled legs and a body crashing to the ground.
Of everyone present, only Hong Geolgae failed to notice what had happened behind them—he was but a first-rate fighter.
The assassins of Salmak turned back in shock at Hyeongong's sudden strike.
Namgung Myeong and Tang Mujin also halted, trying to grasp what had just occurred.
Meeting all their startled gazes, Hyeongong bellowed:
"Villains of Salmak! Your wicked deeds end today!"
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