Chapter 137

Chapter 137
# Chapter 137: The Blackened Crow

Thud.

Something landed directly before his eyes.

Namgung Cheon-hu, his features drawn and his complexion ashen, stared vacantly at the small wooden box resting there.

Then a sharp, exasperated voice rained down from above him.

“Tch. You still haven’t recovered?”

It was the voice of his father, the clan head, Namgung Il-geom.

The injuries Namgung Cheon-hu had sustained at the Sword King Tournament were of the sort that would demand no less than a full year of rest and careful recuperation to mend. Truth be told, he might well have lost his standing as a martial artist entirely had he not possessed the Namgung Clan’s secret divine art to fall back on. Even so, there was not the faintest trace of concern in his father’s—the clan head’s—tone.

*Does he truly not feel any concern, or is there simply none to be found?*

With that thought turning over in his mind, Namgung Cheon-hu reached out and lifted the wooden box.

Click. It sprang open with a crisp sound, revealing a single pill within that exuded an enigmatic, alluring scent.

“…An elixir. You once said there were none to spare for a worthless son such as I.”

True to its standing as a preeminent martial clan, the Namgung Clan held a store of secret elixirs. Had he been permitted to take one immediately upon his return from the Sword King Tournament, he would have cast off every last trace of his injuries long before now.

“It appears matters have arisen that require someone to fill the role of Young Clan Leader.”

Namgung Il-geom offered no direct reply; the words spoken were simply the unvarnished truth. Instead, he issued a command.

“Restore your strength as swiftly as you are able, then make your way to Gangseo.”

Gangseo. That accursed place, once again.

Namgung Cheon-hu understood at once what Namgung Il-geom intended for him to do.

“So the Baek Clan Manor has grown prominent enough to catch the clan head’s notice.”

Since losing every one of his subordinates at the Sword King Tournament and being confined to his quarters, Namgung Cheon-hu had remained entirely unaware of the developments unfolding in Namcheong, within Gangseo.

“The Baek Clan Manor… those wretches have grown insolent. They have forgotten their proper place.”

He held his peace, and Namgung Il-geom continued.

“They have formally declared themselves the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan and announced their intent to tread the path of the Heaven-Covering.”

Heaven-Covering: to stand as a shield that stretches over the heavens and safeguards all who are powerless beneath them.

“Ha! What unmitigated arrogance! What utter folly!”

In the quiet of his own mind, Namgung Cheon-hu found himself in complete agreement with his father.

Unflinching righteousness? To pursue true rectitude without overlooking even the most trivial detail?

*Yang-hui, is that who stands behind this? That boy would never be so foolish as to attempt something like this.*

An ancient, sturdy tree that stands unyielding against a storm will eventually snap, its very roots torn from the earth. But what of the reed? Tossed to and fro by the surging waves, it bends this way and that, yet its roots remain anchored and whole. If one truly means to pursue righteousness, that is the model they ought to follow: to bend and to compromise when the occasion demands, yet never to lose hold of what lies at one’s core.

“If they mean to walk the path of the unyielding tree, they ought to model themselves after Shaolin. Absolute martial might! A power that stands equal to the very finest in all the world!”

Worse still, the Baek Clan Manor was not even a mature, firmly rooted tree. It was commendable that a tender shoot had sprouted from the fruit of a fallen trunk, yes—but it remained no more than a fragile sapling. One strong gust of wind would be all it took to bring it crashing down.

“And so you shall be that wind, Cheon-hu.”

“It seems this sapling has found itself some rich nourishment to sustain it.”

Namgung Il-geom did not deny it. Both he and Namgung Cheon-hu were fully aware that merely proclaiming unyielding righteousness was the sort of empty gesture one laughed over a drink and then forgot.

“Precisely. The Jeon-gal Clan has cast in its lot with the Baek Clan Manor.”

“The Jeon-gal? They ought to have their hands full with affairs in Hobuk.”

“Yet they have lent their aid nonetheless. Which tells us their bond runs far deeper than we might have supposed.”

As ever, the Namgung Clan head did not fix his attention solely upon the Baek Clan itself. The long, bloody history of the martial world bore stark witness to what inevitably befell righteousness that lacked the strength to sustain itself. Namgung Il-geom had set his sights on the true power standing behind the newly self-proclaimed Heaven-Covering Baek Clan.

“You still regard them as nothing more than puppets.”

“What other reasonable conclusion is there to draw?”

The first mention of the Baek Clan Manor to appear within the Namgung Clan’s intelligence network traced back to the Tang Clan. More precisely, they were viewed as puppets the Tang Clan had pushed forward to extend its influence beyond the borders of Sichuan. It was the only logical reading of the situation; no one would ever cede control of land held by their ancestors to an outside group unless they stood to gain from it.

“Your reading was mistaken. The Tang Clan was never the mastermind here. Every last thread of this scheme was woven by the House of the Crouching Dragon.”

The Baek Clan. The Tang Clan. And now the Jeon-gal Clan. Identifying the true architect behind this alliance was hardly a difficult matter—whether measured by faction size, renown, or the scope of the plot itself. It had to be the Jeon-gal Clan pulling the strings.

“And so you will step forward, Cheon-hu. Go and blot their carefully painted image with ink.”

Only then did Namgung Cheon-hu grasp the full reason Namgung Il-geom had bestowed upon him the elixir he had once withheld and issued this command.

*Blot with ink… anyone who touches black ink will find their own hands stained by it.*

…Heh.

In plain terms, Namgung Il-geom’s order amounted to this: I need someone willing to get their hands dirty, and you are the one who will do it.

“Is this truly such a fine opportunity? Why not grant Cheon-yeong the chance to distinguish himself as well?”

Namgung Il-geom’s brow furrowed at once.

“He has not yet seen twenty summers. Distinguish himself? For the boy, simply devoting himself to his martial training is contribution enough to the main family.”

…There was truth enough in those words. His younger brother Namgung Cheon-yeong possessed a talent that could well advance the martial arts of the entire clan. To focus wholeheartedly on his cultivation was indeed the most valuable service he could offer.

“Cheon-hu.” Abruptly, Namgung Il-geom’s tone softened. “Since the Sword King Tournament, your standing has suffered. The elders speak against you at every turn. Would you not reclaim what you have lost by performing this service well?”

It was true: a contingent of armed forces would travel with him to Gangseo, and this mission offered the very chance to rebuild the retinue he had lost at the tournament. Yet…

*Clan head… no matter how finely you dress it up, you would never ask Cheon-yeong to soil his hands in this way, would you?*

He smiled—a smile that held no joy, while his heart wept silently.

If only he possessed talent. If only he possessed that brilliant, effortless genius that commanded admiration and envy wherever it appeared.

*If I do not have it, then I will take it. By whatever means I must.*

A new current stirred deep within his breast—a shadow, spreading outward.

He parted the swirling, dark veil and faced the truth beating within his heart.

*So what if I dirty my hands?*
*Even if every part of me is stained black, what does it matter—so long as I gain everything I desire!*

The voice inside him spoke only truth. He would claim all that he had ever wanted.

“I have terms, Clan Head.”

“Terms? I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself, and you speak to me of terms?”

“You did not raise your heir to be a fool, surely.”

It was insolent speech—far too bold for a Young Clan Leader addressing his head of clan, for a son speaking to his father. Yet Namgung Il-geom laughed aloud, genuine pleasure in the sound.

“You speak true, Cheon-hu. I am heartened to hear it. State your terms.”

“I will carry out your command. In return, you will grant me all the armed forces I require, supply whatever intelligence I seek, and permit me to select every member of the party myself.”

“Agreed. That was always my intent.”

In Namgung Il-geom’s estimation, his second son Namgung Cheon-yeong was not yet ready to assume the mantle of Young Clan Leader. Should the post remain vacant for too long, others with far less right might seek to step into it. It made far better sense to allow Namgung Cheon-hu to discharge this duty well and hold the position for a while longer. In the fullness of time, the next head of the Namgung Clan would be Namgung Cheon-yeong. That was destiny, and no one could alter it.

“Then go. Attend to your recovery, and depart as soon as you are able.”

“It shall be done.”

Namgung Cheon-hu stood for a moment gazing at the door his father had closed behind him. Then, without hesitation, he lifted the elixir and swallowed it.

*The symbol of the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan is said to be a white hawk…*

*Very well. I shall become a crow.*

*Even if my feathers are stained pitch black, I will hunt down that white hawk and soar high above the clouds once more. On wings of black, I will claim the blue heavens as my domain.*

*Yes. That is exactly what I will do.*

He listened to that inner voice, and sank deep into quiet meditation. Five hours passed—long enough for the sun to dip below the horizon and rise again, painting the sky blue once more. Fully restored, his depleted vital energy replenished, Namgung Cheon-hu made his way out to the training grounds to reawaken his rusted, untested limbs.

“…Cheon-yeong.”

“Ah, Brother!”

Someone was already there. His younger brother, Namgung Cheon-yeong.

“Brother! You look so much better!”

A prodigy such as the heavens rarely saw—and yet still so young. Namgung Cheon-yeong had only attained the first-rate realm, yet he saw clearly the state of his elder brother’s body, once that of a peak expert.

*Cheon-yeong…*

Entirely unaware of the thoughts shadowing his brother’s mind, Namgung Cheon-yeong beamed with unfeigned delight.

“Did Father finally give you the elixir? I am so relieved!”

A prodigy who would one day take everything he possessed, and never even understand what he had done. And yet—because he was still young—he remained the younger brother he had once looked up to, and followed.

*Every time you look at me like that… I find I cannot bear it.*

“The Clan Head has given me a mission. I leave for Gangseo shortly.”

“What has happened in Gangseo?”

“As you know, An-hwi, where our main family resides, shares a border with the region. A new threat has arisen there.”

“Hmm? From the Black Dao or unorthodox sects?”

“No. If it is a threat, it comes from within the orthodox factions.”

“Then it is not truly a threat at all—is it not? Merely friendly rivalry! Competition makes us all stronger—surely that is a good thing!”

It was the language of idealism, untroubled by the harsh realities of the world.

“You are right, of course. I shall strive to ensure our relations remain constructive.”

“That is the spirit! Oh, Brother—would you watch me practice my swordsmanship? It has been so long since you last saw it!”

*Cheon-yeong… do you truly wish to show me yet again how far I have fallen?*

He concealed his feelings and nodded. Namgung Cheon-yeong drew his sword and began to move through his forms.

Shing! Shing! Shing!

The blade sliced through the air. There was nothing there but empty space, yet his brother’s sword seemed to cut through something far more substantial. And he could see it: a simple metal blade, swung with effortless grace, and yet the very heavens seemed to bend to its motion.

*He has not even reached the super peak realm, and already the heavens themselves reflect in his sword.*

A genius who could only inspire awe. There was no doubt: the greatest martial artist of the age would one day be his younger brother. It was written, and nothing would change it—so long as he lived to ascend the seat that awaited him.

*That is why Father cherishes you so above all others.*

But Cheon-yeong… I will not step aside. Not even for you.

The following morning, Namgung Cheon-hu set out for Gangseo at the head of the armed company he had chosen personally. He had made his preparations, and was ready to create something striking—even if he must paint it all in shades of black.

—

Once matters in Namcheong had settled into a semblance of order, Yang-hui returned to the main family estate in Muju. Walking beside him as though it were the most natural thing in the world was Ado—and alongside her, an uninvited guest who had made herself quite comfortable.

“Seol-ha… the Master will think you have abandoned your duties to walk the Path of Full Sounds in Namcheong. Ought you not to remain there?”

“Ehehe. Senior Brother—think on it.”

“Think on what?”

“What is the Path of Full Sounds, if not the art of filling one’s ears with all the world’s voices? You cannot hope to hear ten thousand sounds if you stay in only one place.”

Yang-hui was not so easily swayed by her clever words.

“Very well—what is the real reason?”

“We have been there three months already. It is dreadfully dull without you, Senior Brother.”

“You simply grew tired of pretending to be a villainous musician.”

Caught completely off guard, Jeon-gal Seol-ha gave a sheepish, playful grin.

“Ehehehe…”

He could not fault her entirely. She had spent years training in remote mountains, mastering her arts; playing the part of a wicked character must have chafed terribly. Especially bearing the legacy of the Heaven-Shaking Sound Witch, a master of the absolute peak. No doubt she longed to travel freely, to right wrongs with her own hand, and play the part of the hero. Every young martial artist dreamed of such things.

“But why come here? I intend to remain at the estate for some time. It will be far more tedious than where you have been.”

Jeon-gal Seol-ha shook her head as though he had said something utterly absurd.

“You will not.”

“I assure you I shall.”

“Even if you wish to, those around you will not permit it. Wherever you go, storms follow, Senior Brother.”

It was true—and a great storm was indeed gathering. That was when the interruption came.

“Young Master!” A servant burst breathlessly into the room. “Th—the Namgung Clan has arrived! They have sent an envoy!”

“See?” Jeon-gal Seol-ha’s smile was knowing. “I told you.”

Yang-hui hurried out to the main gate. Across the wide courtyard, Namgung Clan warriors marched in formation along the blue stone path leading toward the hall. At their head rode someone he knew well.

“Baek Yang-hui.” Namgung Cheon-hui paused before him, and a thin smile touched his lips. “It has been some time.”

Yang-hui met his gaze, and found himself smiling in return.

“You look in excellent health. I had not expected you to recover so swiftly.”

Namgung Cheon-hu’s smile deepened, never quite reaching his eyes.

“Thanks to you, I have found the strength to carry on.”

A sharp, heavy silence settled over the courtyard.