Chapter 33
Chapter 33
“Brother Gu, there is a matter I must discuss with you.”
“Speak freely, Little Brother. What troubles you?”
This conversation took place just after Yanghwi returned to the Baek Estate, having joined the search party for the Sound Empress that ventured deep into Gokyeol Mountain.
Up until that day, Gu Ak had been reveling in an utterly delightful existence.
Relinquishing his standing among the direct lineage of the Honggyo Gang to become a humble vassal of the Baek Estate had certainly felt humiliating and awkward at the start.
Yet his days had quickly fallen into an exquisite rhythm. By daylight, he leisurely wandered Ak’an County, carrying out his self-styled One Chivalrous Deed a Day whenever he caught dark-path scoundrels harassing ordinary townspeople; by night, he rested blissfully in the warm embrace of his beloved partner. Life felt genuinely splendid.
Finding anything to grumble about would have been unnatural.
Heh heh heh. One Chivalrous Deed a Day, indeed! It sounds infinitely more dignified than Blood Axe. I even hold the distinguished mantle of Master of Reformation Pavilion now.
For a man forsaking the shadowed underworld to don the clean robes of the righteous path, could any redemption be sweeter?
Consequently, Gu Ak’s guard was completely down—a state of easy complacency that proved to be his undoing.
“Brother Gu, you are aware of how thoroughly I place my trust in you, yes?”
“Butter me up like that, and I know you want a substantial favor. Ho ho, out with it to your elder brother, Little Brother!”
“I appreciate your generosity.”
Yanghwi offered an impeccably formal cupped-fist salute before continuing.
“My father… the Lord of the House will soon enter closed-door seclusion. In the interim, would you be willing to assist Steward Han in managing a portion of our clan’s affairs?”
Gu Ak’s eyes flickered wide.
No matter how sincerely he had mended his ways, entrusting the governance of clan matters to someone who was an underworld thug until practically yesterday seemed downright bizarre.
Gu Ak glanced toward Baek Muryang, who was sitting nearby.
Baek Muryang gave an approving nod.
“I feared that entering seclusion might spawn various complications, and while I was turning the problem over in my mind, Yanghwi suggested none other than the Master of Reformation Pavilion.”
“Brother Gu holds both the competence and the integrity deserving of our complete confidence!”
Gu Ak’s mouth curled into an ear-to-ear grin. Deep down, he had wrestled with many quiet anxieties about forfeiting his former status to serve as a mere retainer, so receiving such heartfelt praise puffed his chest with boundless pride.
“If the Lord of the House decrees it, this Gu shall gladly obey! That aside, My Lord, it appears you have achieved an incredible breakthrough.”
Baek Muryang offered a tranquil, satisfied smile.
“During my recent training, I grasped the core spark of enlightenment. I must enter secluded cultivation to refine and fully absorb it.”
The Harmonious Heaven Primordial Art and the Hundred and Eight Heaven-Splitting Swords, which the Baek house had newly instituted as its foundational martial arts, possessed a staggering profundity worthy of the title supreme divine arts.
Merely days into practicing them, the threshold of the first-rate realm had already unfolded before his eyes.
Baek Muryang had languished in the second-rate realm for an extended period, yet bridging that gap so swiftly would have been utterly impossible without the transcendent principles woven into those arts.
“My heartiest congratulations on your monumental achievement, My Lord!”
“My thanks. Then, may I leave these affairs in your capable hands?”
“Naturally! Though whether this Gu can execute them properly is another question entirely. Is there truly no more qualified candidate, My Lord?”
Noticing Gu Ak’s sudden hesitation, Yanghwi smoothly cut in.
“Have no fear. Steward Han will filter and assign only duties well within your comfort zone.”
“Ah, if that is the arrangement.”
“Furthermore, you will be handling several external arrangements previously accepted by the Lord of the House. Because they demand physical prowess, they ought to suit your preferences far better.”
“Understood! Leave it all to me with total peace of mind, Little Brother!”
If that was the extent of the burden, it hardly sounded daunting.
…At least, that was what Gu Ak gullibly believed at the time.
Curse it all, should I just gather my belongings and flee into the night?
Neither Baek Muryang nor Yanghwi had spoken falsehoods.
Steward Han strictly assigned matters that sat squarely within his capabilities.
The wretched problem was that the sheer mountain of paperwork was enough to crush a man’s very soul.
And that was not even the worst of it.
The external commissions he had envisioned as an easy physical diversion turned out to be…
“Escort Gu Ak. My regards.”
“…”
For the longest time, the Baek Estate had sustained its coffers through the revenue generated from Baek Muryang’s external commissions.
Unsurprisingly, the lion’s share of contracts taken by an ordinary second-rate master like Baek Muryang were straightforward escort assignments.
“Escort Gu Ak. We shall be heading to Hoyeong Pavilion today.”
The wealthy patron standing before him was none other than the heir of a merchant house who, until very recently, had cowered and scraped the floor before Gu Ak back when he stood in the Honggyo Gang’s direct line and ran Hoyeong Pavilion.
In the blink of an eye, their social standings had completely flipped.
“…Escort Gu Ak? You appear unwell. Would you care to take a recess today?”
The patron inquired with tremendous caution. Their altered standing did not mean the merchant was foolish enough to look down upon Gu Ak, a genuine first-rate master.
Nevertheless, the burning indignity of the situation felt like swallowing hot coals for Gu Ak.
“…I am entirely well.”
I am not well! Not in the slightest! My pride has been dragged through the gutters!
…Naturally, those were words he could never dare voice before the client who was signing his paycheck.
That night, stumbling back to the Baek Estate a full two shichen past dusk, Gu Ak kicked open the doors to Steward Han’s office in sheer frustration.
“Steward Han! I cannot endure this a moment longer! Why must a figure like Gu Ak debase himself to play a petty bodyguard!”
Despite the ungodly hour, Steward Han, who had been buried under stacks of ledger documents, adjusted their spectacles with chilled serenity.
“Because the household must make coin, obviously.”
“The Baek Estate commands its own thriving businesses now!”
In the wake of the recent underworld conflict, the Baek Estate had seized ownership of three prime commercial venues, including a bustling inn and a tavern.
The clan was no longer in such dire straits that it needed to grovel for trifling escort fees.
“Hoyeong Pavilion by itself rakes in such an obscene mountain of silver that we could pay the breach-of-contract penalties ten times over and shred those pathetic bodyguard agreements! I know its ledgers better than anyone!”
Confronted by Gu Ak’s fiery indignation, Steward Han stared back with utterly exhausted exasperation.
“That place is currently a wrecked shell.”
“What?”
“Hoyeong Pavilion and the rest were completely smashed to pieces during the gang war. Did you honestly imagine the luxurious fittings and furniture survived untouched? The stench of spilled blood runs so deep into the woodwork that every floorboard must be gutted, and every nail and board demands silver.”
Steward Han’s formerly measured voice sharpened, steadily rising into a near-shriek.
“Penalty payments? Bring me the cold hard coin to cover those penalties, then! Gah! No matter how many times I balance these numbers, our funds fall horribly short!”
It was undeniably true that the Baek Estate’s commercial portfolio had widened and would eventually generate staggering revenues, but substantial upfront restoration and renovation costs had to be paid immediately to render them functional.
“Ever since Young Master Hwi stepped into the picture, financial stress was a thing of the past! Yet before our capital in the Baekseo Merchant Guild can even mature, this catastrophic mess drops on my desk! Hoyeong Pavilion alone requires two thousand silver nyang to repair… Oh, and who was the savage beast who soaked Hoyeong Pavilion in blood to begin with? It was none other than you, Master of Reformation Pavilion! All of this is because of youuuu!”
…Gu Ak had no choice but to tuck his tail between his legs and sneak quietly out of Steward Han’s chamber.
Weary. Miserable. He desperately wanted to lash out in fury, yet there was not a single soul he could rightfully blame.
I just want to see Arang.
Gu Ak dragged his feet toward Baekik Pavilion, his designated detached residence, which had recently been rechristened Reformation Pavilion.
He softly eased open the door to the bedchamber he shared with Arang.
“…”
Yeo Arang was slumbering peacefully. Being a sensitive sleeper, even the gentlest rustle beside her would jolt her awake.
Gu Ak quietly pulled the door shut and retreated down the hallway to a spare guest room.
Having trudged home past midnight day after day, he had been forced to sleep alone for several nights running.
The idyllic future Yanghwi had painted—growing comfortably old beside his cherished love—had evaporated into thin air.
I cannot permit this misery to continue. A solution must be found.
The Baek Estate was expanding at a terrifying pace.
With Gu Ak being ground down into the very fertilizer nurturing its soil.
…If he did not fancy spending the rest of his days as fertilizer, he needed to drag new scapegoats into the fold.
Gu Ak hardened his determination.
I will pour every drop of my soul and power into reforming those vile dark-path thugs. I will forge competent underlings and dump every single shred of this wretched labor onto their shoulders!
Thus dawned a waking nightmare for the street hooligans of Ak’an County, marking the notorious rise of Gu Ak, Master of Reformation Pavilion, and his relentless pursuit of One Chivalrous Deed a Day.
Ta-at!
Springing forward with nimble grace, Yanghwi darted toward the first wooden mannequin.
The moment his foot depressed the trigger board beneath him, internal gears ground into action, unleashing an aggressive high strike.
Instead of lowering his stance, Yanghwi pivoted his leading foot and anchored his toes firmly against the floorboards.
“Two paces toward north-northwest!”
The wooden fingers swept past Yanghwi’s hairline, missing him by a mere whisper of air.
He had cleanly bypassed the blow strictly through repositioning his lower frame, keeping his torso entirely stationary.
Although this sudden adjustment compromised the alignment between his upper and lower halves and threatened his balance, he righted himself in an instant.
“Drop the knees, plant the right foot firmly toward west-northwest, and kick off with sudden momentum!”
He clearly articulated the rationale behind each maneuver so Zhuge Seolha, observing intently from behind, could absorb it.
Projecting his instructions with every stride, Yanghwi breezed past the hundred and twenty-fifth wooden mannequin.
Executing this purely through mundane physique without relying on internal energy is remarkably demanding.
Had he deployed his internal energy, Zhuge Seolha would never have been able to emulate the sequence. For that reason, Yanghwi was navigating the gauntlet strictly within the limits of Zhuge Seolha’s untrained stamina.
It commands utter reverence. Truly an astonishing movement art.
The impacts from these wooden mannequins packed enough raw velocity and kinetic weight to blast a frail youth nearly three zhang backward.
Under normal circumstances, expecting a delicate young girl to cross this corridor was pure madness.
Even so, across the hundreds of mechanical wooden figures, a harmonious, rhythmic cadence was subtly threaded into their spacing and positions.
The techniques themselves encapsulated deep martial axioms, harboring an ingenious design that rendered the seemingly unattainable entirely achievable.
If one were to capture its essence, it resembles the wind itself. A footwork discipline capable of shifting between a tranquil zephyr and a raging tempest.
Limitlessly yielding in its softness, boundless in its swiftness.
The refined mystery of marrying yielding softness with blinding speed.
Though he had not yet accessed the internal energy circulation chart designed to accompany it, observing the outward postures alone made the truth indisputable.
Achieving complete mastery over this footwork would prevent any adversary from ever closing within striking distance.
The Sound Empress had not been hailed as peerless throughout the martial world for her movement technique for nothing.
It was an evasive footwork explicitly designed for sonic martial arts, allowing a practitioner to unleash long-range sonic attacks while maintaining an insurmountable distance from pursuers.
Weighing these thoughts, Yanghwi reached the corridor’s far exit.
Tracing the path back in exact reverse, he reappeared beside Zhuge Seolha.
“How did that look, Junior Sister?”
In response to Yanghwi’s inquiry, Zhuge Seolha flashed a grin radiating pure self-assurance.
Today marked a full week since they first stepped into the Hall of Martial Arts.
It had taken roughly five full days to unravel each movement principle hidden within the wooden contraptions.
Over the subsequent two days, Zhuge Seolha had drilled those stances without pause, readying herself for her solitary attempt.
“I believe I have it mastered. Let us break through to the next trial today.”
“Are you confident you will not stumble?”
“I cannot stomach another meal of roasted rat, at any rate.”
Offering a radiant laugh, Zhuge Seolha stepped up to the mouth of the corridor, settled into her opening stance, and drew a deep breath.
Yanghwi studied her with focused attention.
Did she truly cultivate enough certainty to conquer this in merely two days?
The inner workings governing these mechanical figures belonged to an elite tier of martial footwork.
To digest every single transition within forty-eight hours was staggering.
“Ha-at!”
Zhuge Seolha bounded forward with startling lightness.
Clang!
Two paces north-northwest. The mannequin’s overhead slash succeeded only in stirring her flowing hair.
Clang!
A second strike whistled in pursuit.
Lowering her knees and crossing her legs, she shifted her weight onto her right foot toward west-northwest rather than her left, effortlessly reclaiming her centered equilibrium.
Surging upward off the ground, she flattened her body parallel to the floor, sweeping smoothly under the third mannequin’s sweeping horizontal strike.
“Ha-at!”
Three paces northeast. One pace southeast.
Folding her frame into a low-slung crouch, she darted five strides straight north.
Witnessing Zhuge Seolha weave through the perilous gauntlet with far greater fluidity than anticipated, Yanghwi let out an appreciative whistle.
Impressive… No, that level of comprehension is downright frightening. And to think this child spent three years curled up in her father’s arms like an invalid.
Until recently, Zhuge Seolha had existed like a shattered porcelain doll stripped of her spirit.
The brilliance she was exhibiting right now was nothing short of miraculous.
Yet, considering her past, it made terrifying sense. In his previous life, Zhuge Seolha had drenched the world in rivers of blood, earning the dreadful title of Soul-Stealing Demon Empress.
While that tragedy had been triggered by the berserk awakening of her Peach Blossom Body and practicing heretical soul-binding techniques while suffering qi deviation, she could never have accomplished such devastation without an unnatural, god-given genius.
“Senior Brother!”
Having slipped past the final wooden mannequin without a single misstep, Zhuge Seolha brushed away the beads of sweat from her forehead and waved her arms with buoyant excitement.
“Did you watch that? I promised you I could do it! Ahaha!”
Chuckling softly, Yanghwi circulated his internal energy and crossed the gauntlet in a single gliding blur, coming to a halt at Zhuge Seolha’s side.
“Excellently executed, Junior Sister. Your martial comprehension is truly extraordinary.”
“Heheh, what else did you expect from a direct scion of the Great Zhuge family?”
“Shall we proceed into the final hall, then? Or would you prefer to catch your breath first?”
“Onward immediately!”
The two youths cast their gazes toward the end of the stone corridor.
A massive iron gate stood yawning wide, opening into an abyss of impenetrable blackness.
“I wonder what this ultimate trial will test.”
“Who can say?”
Thus far, they had been judged on endurance, martial aptitude, musical sensitivity, and moral character.
With every conceivable virtuous trait already examined, guessing what remained was an exercise in futility.
“We shall find out once we step inside.”
“That sounds just like when Senior Brother insisted that seeing something firsthand is worth hearing about it a hundred times.”
“Spare me. As I told you before, I only let that contraption blast me across the room back then because I was far too lazy to walk all the way back.”
“Naturally! Whatever Senior Brother says is absolute truth!”
Trading lighthearted banter, the pair stepped across the threshold of the iron gate.
Yanghwi instinctively concentrated internal energy into his ocular meridians to pierce the veil of shadow, only to freeze in dead astonishment.
“Seolha?”
Zhuge Seolha’s voice and aura had completely evaporated.
Before him stretched a bottomless void of pitch darkness, so dense and smothering that he could not glimpse his own fingers held before his face.
Yanghwi stood utterly alone in the silent expanse.
Then, out of that suffocating quiet:
“I am sorry, Greatest Sword Among Wanderers.”
Those very same words—the final sentence spoken to him at the bitter conclusion of his previous life.
In that singular breath, Yanghwi understood with absolute clarity what the fifth hall was built to test.
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