Chapter 646

If this continued, I was liable to be branded a traitor guilty of high treason, so in the end, I had to explain everything that had happened at the Tribal Grand Council from beginning to end.

And answer every question that came up along the way.

“More than half the chieftains accepted you?”

“Yes. They even gave me cupped-fist salutes.¹ Thanked me for saving their tribespeople and families.”

“My goodness. You were gone so long that I had a feeling something had happened… But an outsider—especially a Han Chinese person—attending the Tribal Grand Council must be a first in Nanman’s history. No, in Murim history.”

At Ju Hwaran’s surprise, Namho, who stood beside her, added with a warm smile.

“Of course it’s a first. An outsider attending the Tribal Grand Council was a first, and that outsider getting into a fight with the Great Chieftain of the Bai people was a first too. Yes, indeed.”

“…”

“…”

“Hoho. I’m laughing because I’m so very proud and happy. Don’t mind me. Go on.”

It was hard not to mind him, but I went on.

“Anyway, the council started, and…”

Ju Hwaran’s eyes widened as she listened.

“The Blood Monk?”

“Yes. Apparently, he’s rampaging through Guizhou right now. I heard he’s already beaten several hundred people to death and is running wild. This was the first time I’d heard that sobriquet, so I was wondering if Young Lady Ju had ever heard of him.”

The Yongbong Escort Bureau was based in Sichuan, which bordered Guizhou to the southeast. And though the bureau’s fortunes had declined for a time, it had once been among the foremost Escort Bureaus in the world. Its intelligence network was considerable.

Young Lady Ju might know something.

But my hopes faded when I told her what little I knew about the Blood Monk and she shook her head.

“I’m sorry. A few sobriquets vaguely come to mind, but none of them belonged to a master of that caliber. Besides, there’s no specific sketch or description of his appearance.”

“Hmm. I see.”

I was a little disappointed, but I tried not to show it. As she’d said, picking one man out from a handful of characteristics, without even a proper description of his face, was difficult.

All I’d been able to tell her was that he was probably middle-aged, his martial arts were likely at the Supreme Peak level, and his signature weapon was a Zen staff.

Murim’s a big place.

Not just in terms of land. There were plenty of people, too. Men with cheap swords made of scrap iron gave themselves names like Soaring Dragon Guest and Sword Demon, then strutted around as if they were somebody.

I might as well search an endless beach for one grain of sand.

I was smacking my lips when Ju Hwaran, who still looked apologetic, seemed to remember something.

“Oh, but Captain Song would know more about this than I would. Wouldn’t you, Captain Song?”

Oh. Right.

Every eye in the room, including mine, turned toward Song Ilseom. As usual, he’d been keeping quiet.

“Hmm. I don’t know.”

Like hell you don’t.

I’d figured him out by now. I tossed him a silver nyang.²

“Hey, Soul-Chasing Guest. If you know something, let’s hear it.”

He might call himself a mere escort these days, but Song Ilseom was a martial arts prodigy of Guangdong Chen Family blood. At a startlingly young age, he’d won more than a hundred life-and-death duels and become a legend among wandering martial artists.

In some ways, there were few professions more sensitive to people and rumors than wandering martial artists. Their lives could depend on it from one day to the next.

Clack.

Song Ilseom snatched the silver out of the air and frowned.

“You think I’m obsessed with money?”

“Yes.”

“…”

“So, you don’t like it?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“What if I give you more?”

“I’d like that even better.”

“Here. Have some more silver, you money-crazed bastard.”

Whoosh. Clack.

“……Somehow, this feels even worse.”

Having secured a generous bonus, Song Ilseom began, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Middle-aged, and he uses a Zen staff?”

“Yeah. Steel, from what I heard.”

“What does he look like?”

“I don’t know much beyond the bald head and lack of a beard. The survivor who made it all the way to Nanman died after telling them that much.”

“A complete mess, then. Still, three people come to mind. Not many martial artists use a Zen staff as their signature weapon.”

“Oh, three?”

“There’s just one problem…”

“That’s fine. Tell me.”

With all of us watching him expectantly, Song Ilseom spoke.

“He’s dead.”

“Huh?”

“More precisely, I killed him. Took a commission and happened to meet him on a battlefield.”

“Hmm… Well, that happens. What about the other two?”

“What do you mean, the other two?”

“You just said you killed one.”

“I killed all three.”

“…?”

“Two on battlefields, one in a life-and-death duel. The last was the strongest.”

“…!”

A heavy silence fell. Then Namho muttered what everyone was thinking.

“So there’s another crazy bastard.”

I didn’t know who the other crazy bastard was supposed to be, but I couldn’t agree more.

I glared at Song Ilseom, who stood there blankly. Should I take back the silver first and then beat him up? Or beat him up first and then take back the silver?

That was when I noticed someone else giving him a look of utter contempt.

“Hey, unorthodox grunt.”

“…Unorthodox grunt?”

“Yeah. Know anything?”

Sama Pyo, Young Sect Leader of the Black Dragon Demon Gate—the most powerful unorthodox faction in the world today, and self-proclaimed ruler of Gansu—knitted his brows.

“I have three things to say. First, I am not an unorthodox grunt. Second, Gansu and Guizhou are nearly a thousand li³ apart, so travel between them is difficult. And third, why would you think I’d know?”

“Because you’re part of the unorthodox faction.”

“…?”

“Bad guys all know each other, don’t they?”

“…!”

“Well, maybe not.”

I waved a hand at Sama Pyo, who had gone stiff as a statue, and turned to the other, enormous unorthodox grunt beside him.

Before I could say a word, I got a booming answer.

Grrrrowl. Grrrrrrrrowl.

“…”

What the fuck?

This wasn’t the World Cup final, yet a vuvuzela was blaring in the middle of Nanman. Namho burst out laughing.

“Hoho! That bastard. If only I’d learned martial arts, I’d cut that goddamn belly open. Hahaha!”

Given how much he’d been laughing, he seemed about halfway out of his mind. Hyuk Mujin stared at him in fear, then turned to me.

“Captain.”

“Head to the floor.”

“What?”

“Ah, sorry. That was just a habit. But if you start talking nonsense like the others in this situation, I’ll kill you.”

“No, that’s not it. This Blood Monk or whatever he’s called… Isn’t there too little information about him for a martial artist?”

It was the most sensible thing anyone had said since Ju Hwaran spoke. I scratched the back of my head in frustration and smacked my lips.

“That’s true. How fucking old is he, anyway? How is there not a single person who knows him?”

Namho, who’d been shooting Taishan a murderous glare, cut in.

“Speaking as someone who’s old enough to know, I’ve never heard of him either. There was a fiend called the Killing Buddha during the Great Faction War, but he doesn’t sound much like this Blood Monk. The man was ancient even then. I doubt he’s still alive.”

If Namho had been just some old man from another tribe, that might not have meant much. But he’d held a fairly important post in the Hidden Shadow Pavilion. Chances were he was right.

Then who the hell is this guy? He sounds like some hidden master.

If even Namho, a man from the distant past, and the Fire Dragon Pavilion members of the current generation had never heard of him, then he was truly a freak.

But what mattered most wasn’t the Blood Monk’s identity. It was who stood behind him—and what he wanted.

Namho tapped his knees, as if he’d read my mind.

“We can’t be sure yet, but there’s a strong chance Dark Heaven is behind the Blood Monk.”

“I agree. I said as much at the Tribal Grand Council.”

“What do the Beast Miao King and the other chieftains think?”

“We decided to send some scouts and warriors toward Guizhou first, but before that… Baeksang’s reaction bothered me.”

“He told you not to concern yourselves with affairs in the Central Plains, I suppose.”

“Huh?”

“He’s done it often enough. Ever since the Great Faction War, Baeksang has bristled at anything to do with the Central Plains. Even the few trade routes Nanman had were closed after the Bai people and several other tribes opposed them. What I wonder now is…”

Namho sighed quietly before continuing.

“Does his hostility come from the grief of losing his only child in a war between Han Chinese? Or did something that happened then leave him with a grudge against the orthodox faction?”

“Hmm.”

“If it’s the former, it may end with a bereaved father’s resentment. But if it’s the latter…”

Ju Hwaran, who had been listening in silence, murmured, “Betrayal. Enough to put all of Nanman in danger.”

“Yes. If he’s joined hands with Dark Heaven, this could spiral beyond anyone’s control.”

An enemy within was more dangerous than one outside. Even an impregnable fortress was no better than a sandcastle in the surf if it crumbled from the inside.

And if the traitor was the Great Chieftain who, alongside the Beast Miao King, held sway over half of Nanman—

We’re finished.

I had to uncover the plot taking shape inside Nanman and stop it. I also had to find out where the Blood Monk was headed as he made his way onward from distant Guizhou.

But even the System that had brought me from an F-rank Hunter to where I stood now couldn’t split me in two.

In that case…

I raised my head and slowly looked over everyone around me.

I recalled their martial arts, characteristics, and personalities one by one as I considered who was best suited for the task. Who could return alive from an unknown danger?

I was deep in thought, with no end to it in sight, when someone spoke.

“I’ll go.”

“…!”

“Please send me. I will complete the mission and return without fail.”

I was startled twice: first that she’d understood what I was thinking without a word from me, and then that the person who’d spoken was Ju Hwaran.

My answer came out as if I’d settled on it from the start.

“No.”

“Why? Do you think that old monster, the Blood Monk, will hurt me?”

“That’s…”

“My martial arts may be meager compared to yours, Pavilion Master, but I believe I am strong enough to protect myself.”

“Young Lady Ju.”

“I know what you’re worried about. Of course I couldn’t take on the Blood Monk. But warriors handpicked by the Nanman Beast Palace will be with us, and some of our members will come, too. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

I pressed my lips together instead of answering. She wasn’t wrong.

I’d planned to send some Fire Dragon Pavilion members with the scouting party that would soon depart. They would find out who the Blood Monk was and what he wanted, and I’d accounted for the possibility of a fight.

What I hadn’t considered was Ju Hwaran volunteering.

“Pavilion Master. No—Benefactor.”

Benefactor.

That was what she’d first called me months ago, just after we’d settled the Yongbong Escort Bureau’s affairs in Sichuan.

For a moment, I could almost smell the flowers in the Fire Courtyard, where we’d taken our last walk before leaving. The eyes that had been wet beneath the moonlight then now shone with firm resolve.

“Please send me. Send me.”

“…!”

“I can do it.”

A thought came to me.

I would never be able to refuse a request made with those eyes and that voice. Not now, not ever.

Whew.

The wind was hot. My mouth tasted bitter.

I let out a small sigh and finally nodded.

Ju Hwaran’s face lit up. In the distance, music announcing the start of the banquet was already playing.