Yu Hwa-ryeong dashed forward, cutting off Bu Eunseol’s path. His face was flushed with agitation.
“How can you sever human ties so callously?”
“You were the one who severed them.”
“No, I mean… even if they were villains, how could you so unhesitatingly…”
Yu Hwa-ryeong trailed off, muttering under his breath. Then, a realization seemed to dawn on him, and his voice dropped to a hush. “I see… That is why my masters wanted a figure like you.”
He shook his head, his expression bitter and pained. “I merely wanted to offer you advice. Let us go together as planned.”
Though he spoke of unity, his demeanor was stifled. He was a swordsman of the Thousand Sword Society, possessing outstanding martial arts, but regrettably, his heart was too tender for the carnage of the road.
“Yu Hwa-ryeong.”
Black Leopard, having observed the exchange in silence, stepped in.
“Please don’t be like that. Watch for a few more days, and you will understand why the Young Master acts this way.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Gangho is harsh.” Black Leopard continued, his tone cautious yet calm. “Surely, even after this, those aiming for the Young Master’s sword will appear constantly. Do you truly think such violence will cease?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you really think so?”
Yu Hwa-ryeong nodded vigorously. “Sichuan is a place full of famous heroes of the Murim. Such things do not happen often here.”
“Fine. Then make a bet with me.”
“A bet?”
Black Leopard nodded. “If no one appears to snatch the sword within a few days, I will build a shrine for the Three Ghosts of Central Henan and mourn for three years.”
“Hoh.”
“But if such incidents repeat, please do not blame the Young Master for being heartless in his methods in the future.”
Yu Hwa-ryeong looked at Black Leopard with renewed appraisal. He had considered the man merely a contracted vagrant attendant, yet he possessed considerable loyalty to Bu Eunseol.
“Fine.” Yu Hwa-ryeong answered confidently. “Let us do so.”
He was a disciple of the Thousand Sword Society with wide connections throughout the Gangho. He believed that if he stepped forward and mediated, such senseless bloodshed would absolutely never happen again.
But how could he have known?
He could not foresee that Bu Eunseol provoked a strange, primal hostility in villains. Nor could he know that the boy possessed a power that made conflict inevitable the moment he met eyes with those harboring malice.
***
A few days later, inside the second floor of the World Fragrance Tea House.
CRACK.
The body of Seok Il-gun, one of the Nine Ring Dual Daggers who had picked a fight to steal Bu Eunseol’s Dark Sword, smashed through a table, reducing it to splinters.
CRASH.
Woong Gyeom, an assassin of the Ice Assassination Sect who had aimed a poison hand at Bu Eunseol, was hurled through the window, flying out into the street below.
“…”
Yu Hwa-ryeong sat frozen, clutching his teacup, watching the scene with wide, disbelief-filled eyes.
It was already the third time.
Those picking fights, those attempting ambushes to steal the Dark Sword—what madness had possessed them? Masters eyeing the divine sword initiated violence the instant they locked gazes with Bu Eunseol.
And invariably, they flew away as bloody pulp.
U-Ugh.
Witnessing the carnage, Yu Hwa-ryeong finally set down his teacup and slumped his shoulders in defeat. He too had left the Thousand Sword Society and traveled the Gangho for several years, but he had never encountered a person who attracted violence as frequently as Bu Eunseol.
Isn’t this like iron filings drawn to a magnet?
It seemed as if every villain in Sichuan was stalking Bu Eunseol. Those possessing divine swords were not rare in the Murim, so why did this magnetic pull of violence afflict only him?
In truth, it was because of Bu Eunseol’s appearance.
Although tall, his features were far more beautiful than most renowned beauties. His temples were flat, and his body lines were slender, making him look more like the finely raised son of a wealthy aristocratic family than a hardened martial artist.
In short, he possessed an appearance so delicate that even a child wouldn’t feel wary. To martial artists harboring malice, he looked like easy prey.
If it were just ruffians of the Unorthodox Faction, I might understand, but…
Among those who attacked Bu Eunseol in the past few days were famous heroes and rising stars of the Orthodox Faction, including the Jade Flute Sword and the Wind and Cloud Divine Dragon. It proved that greed for a divine sword did not distinguish between the Orthodox and the Unorthodox.
Just as Yu Hwa-ryeong stared at the broken window with unfocused eyes, Black Leopard spoke up with a bright smile.
“How about it? Does our Young Master still look like a cruel figure who unleashes poison hands unnecessarily?”
“Ahem.”
Yu Hwa-ryeong had nothing to say.
From Bu Eunseol’s position, it was no exaggeration to say that not unleashing poison hands would be the abnormality. Countless people aimed for his life day and night. If he didn’t punish one to warn a hundred, the cycle would repeat endlessly.
“I admit I was rash.”
Sighing deeply as if the ground were collapsing beneath him, Yu Hwa-ryeong clasped his hands toward Bu Eunseol.
“I apologize to you as well. I am sorry.”
Bu Eunseol shook his head dismissively. “Do not mind it.”
***
Before long, the night deepened.
Perhaps due to the arduous mental toll of the past few days, Yu Hwa-ryeong fell asleep as soon as they entered the inn. Black Leopard crouched in the corner, intently reading the movement technique manual Bu Eunseol had given him.
“Hmm.”
Looking at his attendant, Bu Eunseol spoke softly. “Do not stay there; read comfortably at the table.”
“I am fine.”
“I will be going out for a moment anyway.”
As Bu Eunseol rose, Black Leopard closed the book and stood up immediately. “Are you hungry? Shall I find a good tavern nearby?”
“I will just get some air for a moment.”
Slipping out of the inn, Bu Eunseol unfolded the Shadowless Supreme Speed and ascended to the roof of a high pavilion.
I should start practicing fist arts.
Since reading the manual of the Fist Demon, he had been contemplating the principles of fist arts, both while awake and asleep. Even while unfolding sword arts, he had wondered, ‘Can I melt sword arts into fist arts?’ The formulas and essentials of the Fist Demon were engraved in his mind like a brand.
Now that the swarm of assassins had temporarily thinned, he intended to test his theories.
Flutter.
Unfolding a movement technique like a streak of wind, Bu Eunseol headed into a forest far from the village. Discovering a bamboo field with lush green leaves bathing in the moonlight, he stood still and recalled the manual.
Swish.
Drawing a semicircle with his arm, Bu Eunseol extended the first move of the Fist Demon.
Only body, hands, and feet method, mostly cannot be outside the sword. The way of using the body, hands, and feet is not much different from the principle of using a sword.
However, the fist art of the Fist Demon was completely different. It used moves free of intent, unbound by the rigid principles of traditional martial arts. It was based on the supreme confidence that one could shatter the opponent’s move before it even fully unfolded.
Whish!
As Bu Eunseol threw a punch, a powerful wind rose with the sound of tearing air.
Crack.
Simultaneously, the bamboo directly in front of him vanished. It had not just been broken; it had been shattered to dust by the terrifying pressure of his fist power.
“This is not it.”
Bu Eunseol shook his head, dissatisfaction etched on his face.
The fist art of the Fist Demon should not only be powerful but must reach the realm of Traceless. In other words, no trace or track should remain.
Whish!
As he unleashed the fist art again, another bamboo stalk shattered. However, unlike before, no great wind arose, and no noise of fist power occurred. Still, reaching the Realm of Tracelessness seemed distant.
I can take it slowly.
Practicing the fist art of the Fist Demon was akin to reaching the ultimate principle of the sword. It could not be achieved in a single breath; perhaps even a lifetime of practice might not yield a satisfactory level.
Rustle.
At that moment, a faint sound drifted from the periphery. It was a disturbance so subtle only Bu Eunseol, who had mastered the Way of the Beast, could detect it.
Whish!
Once again, Bu Eunseol’s fist strike cut through the air. That fist power, dense as sword energy and poured out with full force, swept through the bamboo more than ten jang away.
“What an incredible fist art.”
The intruder in the bamboo forest did not attempt to counter the raw power. Instead, he launched himself into the air.
Whir.
The shadow rising in mid-air spun like a top, neutralizing the shockwave of the fist power. It was a flashy yet exquisite movement technique Bu Eunseol had never witnessed since entering the Gangho.
Thud.
The shadow landed gracefully. It was a man with a sturdy build, dressed in yellow robes. He approached Bu Eunseol and politely clasped his hands.
“Excuse me. Passing by here by chance, I unintentionally saw you practicing.”
Watching another’s martial arts practice was a severe taboo in the Gangho. Yet, the man clasped his hands with an air of breezy confidence.
“If it is not rude, I would like to give you this as an apology.”
The man produced a golden flower from a leather pouch.
It was the Pear Blossom Tree Leaf.
This was the signature concealed weapon exclusively carried by the direct descendants of the Sichuan Tang Clan. In Sichuan, the pear tree held immense significance, and the Tang Clan had adopted the pear blossom leaf as their emblem and token.
Bu Eunseol stared down at the golden leaf.
For a master of the Eight Great Families to gift the clan’s token carried significant weight. It was an object typically reserved for a lover or a sworn friend.
“I am called Tang Gon. And you, brother?”
The man in yellow, Tang Gon, smiled brightly and clasped his hands.
Bu Eunseol, however, looked down at the Pear Blossom Tree Leaf with a cold, impassive expression.
“Why give this to me?”
“Just seeing that one move, I could tell how high a realm you have achieved.”
“Do you mean one can associate with the Tang Clan if only their martial arts skill is high?”
“I do not mean that. I merely felt goodwill toward you.”
“Have you not considered that I might be a heinous demon or a master of the Unorthodox Faction?”
Bu Eunseol fixed him with freezing eyes. If Tang Gon held any hidden hostility, those eyes would have provoked an instinctive flare of anger or killing intent.
Instead, Tang Gon laughed heartily.
“Hahaha. My family has friendships not only with the Orthodox Faction but also with various factions of the Unorthodox. So being an Unorthodox master doesn’t matter… and if you were a heinous villain, I would have to blame my own poor judge of character.”
Tang Gon spoke with unwavering confidence. As expected of a direct line master of the Eight Great Families, he not only possessed outstanding martial arts but also prided himself on his insight into human nature.
“Will you accept it?”
Bu Eunseol stared at him. Tang Gon’s eyes were not only confident but sparkled with genuine goodwill.
If he accepted this, no one in Sichuan would dare touch Bu Eunseol. He would be making a friend for the first time in his journey through the Gangho.
—The wind and waves of the Gangho are treacherous. Trust no one… and be careful.
Suddenly, the last words of the Gong Clan Twin Demons resurfaced in his mind. They had belonged to the same organization, but in the end, they became enemies forced to take each other’s lives.
“Hmm.”
Bu Eunseol, humming low, shook his head.
Toss.
He threw the Pear Blossom Tree Leaf back to Tang Gon.
“Is this Tang unworthy of being your friend?”
Looking at Tang Gon’s stiffened face, Bu Eunseol shook his head with dry eyes.
“Friends are not needed in the Murim.”
“Why?”
“Because you never know when you might point a sword at each other.”
At Bu Eunseol’s words, Tang Gon seemed to ponder deeply. Then, he let out a long sigh.
“That could be true.”
Even within the current Tang Clan, blood relatives were engaging in strife over the position of Clan Leader. No matter how plausible a friendship seemed, in the Murim, one could become an enemy the moment interests conflicted.
“But I suppose I have the right to ask your name.”
“Bu Eunseol.”
When he spoke the name briefly, Tang Gon let out a soft exclamation. “Ah. The winner of the East Drifter, West Wanderer Elite Martial Arts Tournament. The rookie who appeared in the Murim like a comet… was you.”
Bu Eunseol turned his body to leave without answering.
“But you should know this too.”
Tang Gon spoke to his retreating back, a faint smile playing on his lips. “That in the Gangho, there are also friendships where giving one’s life for each other is not a waste.”
“I will keep it in mind.”
Bu Eunseol and Tang Gon turned away from each other. Yet, the expressions of the two men, as if by secret agreement, held faint, lingering smiles.