Boom! Boom! Boom!
White smoke billowed up with the flames.
The iron balls hurtled across more than two hundred ja1, smashed the swift ship, and crushed everyone aboard into minced fish…
Naturally, none of that happened.
The only thing this world could do far better than the modern twenty-first century was martial arts—not science.
Boom! Splash!
The iron balls struck the water instead of the swift ship, sending waves surging upward.
Taishan snatched a fish out of the air as the blast sent it flying toward the deck. He looked dejected.
“Taishan sad. This not five-spice pork.”
“……”
Since when did five-spice pork come from the Yangtze?
I gave Taishan a frosty look, then tapped the back of the Water Dragon Stronghold’s Deputy Stronghold Lord’s head. Like the other river pirates, he was crouched on the deck like a shrimp.
“Get up. You’re a river pirate. Why are you so scared?”
“Gasp! Am I alive?”
“Did you think we’d all died?”
“But I saw them fire with my own eyes…”
“They fired, all right. Their aim was terrible.”
Even people who pissed at least once or twice a day sometimes missed the target. Was firing an old-fashioned cannon supposed to be easy?
Only about half of the hundred or so iron balls had been fired properly, and more than half of those hadn’t come anywhere near us.
The ones that had miraculously reached the swift ship had merely served as sacrifices to the river’s wave pool.
Well, I suppose they’ve only fired a few shots now and then during training.
It made sense when I thought about it.
The age when warlords rose like wildfires and fought for supremacy had ended long ago.
Even modern humanity, after going through the Great Cataclysm, had settled into peace in just over thirty years. Hunter had come to mean a profession, not a calling. Of course the soldiers of this unified dynasty, ruled by the Son of Heaven, had grown lax.
There was just one thing I didn’t understand: why were they suddenly firing cannons at us?
“I’ll ask them.”
“Pardon?”
“I was talking to myself. Don’t worry about it. Just steer the ship.”
“Pardon?”
“Get moving. Do you want to spend the night here?”
“Pardon?”
If failing to understand something this simple counted as a talent, he had it in spades.
I clicked my tongue at the Deputy Stronghold Lord, who just kept staring blankly and asking me to repeat myself, then called over a nearby river pirate.
“Hey, you there.”
“M-me?”
“Yeah. You’re the acting captain now, so steer the ship. Oh, and hang a white flag where they can see it, just in case.”
I didn’t know what had happened in Sichuan while we’d been in Nanman, but I had no intention of attacking government troops just because a few cannonballs had landed nearby.
The government and Murim might have an agreement not to interfere with each other, but martial artists were still subjects of this land. We could end up charged with something as serious as treason.
Did some local river pirates cause trouble recently?
As I thought it over, the swift ship—which had paused for a moment—started toward the landing. One of the river pirates shouted.
“They’re reloading!”
Not great news, but not something I was particularly worried about, either.
Even if I didn’t step in, we had human shields who could easily stop a few old-fashioned cannonballs.
“Earn your keep.”
The moment I tossed out that one line—
Boom!
The second volley thundered, and a faint whistle came from behind me.
Whoosh!
Sama Pyo, Taishan, Song Ilseom—and finally, Ju Hwaran.
In the blink of an eye, they raced across the deck. The brilliant light they unleashed met the iron balls hurtling toward the swift ship.
Slice! Crash!
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Drums beat an urgent rhythm beneath the unceasing roar of cannons.
On the largest and most splendid of the dozens of pleasure boats, a young man watched a singing courtesan dance and gave a quiet laugh.
“I don’t know what kind of scum they are, but their luck is rotten.”
His voice was thick with drink, his eyes relaxed. The others had been watching him warily, knowing his usual temperament, but now they finally laughed along.
“Ha ha. That’s what happens to the uneducated.”
“If they knew Young Master was here, they’d abandon their boat and run a thousand li2.”
“But… that flag concerns me.”
The young man turned to the speaker.
“The flag? What about it?”
“Have you heard of the Yangtze River Channel League?”
“The Yangtze River Channel League…”
Cup in hand, the young man searched his memory for a moment. Then it came to him.
“Oh, those river pirates? Of course. There was a group called the Yangtze River Channel League where I stayed before.”
“Yes, exactly. They’re notorious scoundrels, even in the martial world. And the boat our navy is attacking is flying their flag.”
“And?”
“The government and Murim aren’t supposed to interfere with each other. Besides, the leader of the Yangtze River Channel League is known for his vicious, devious nature. I worry this might cause trouble…”
His voice, so assured a moment ago, gradually trailed off.
The pleasure boat fell quiet. The smile on the young man’s lips faded.
Clack.
He set his cup down roughly, splashing the wine inside.
“Trouble?”
Every one of the people around him wore lustrous silk and had the bearing of wealth and status.
Some looked young enough to be his peers; others were old enough to be his father. All held their breath and watched his every move.
“I’m genuinely curious… What sort of trouble are you worried about?”
“Th-that is…”
The merchant who’d spoken first stammered.
He ran a sizable trading company in Sichuan, and he already regretted opening his mouth.
He’d even paid a bribe to attend this gathering, hoping to win the young man’s favor. As a merchant, he’d heard and seen a lot, so he’d spoken without giving it much thought. Now, instead of catching the young man’s eye, he was about to fall out of favor.
“I-I’m sorry, Young Master.”
The apology came too late to calm the young man’s temper.
His eyes, drooping drunkenly a moment ago, had risen into their usual cunning slant.
How dare a lowly merchant…
The young man glared at the back of the merchant’s bowed head.
He valued authority and dignity above all else. Yet this man had stood before him and spouted nonsense about being worried by some martial-world ruffians.
The Yangtze River Channel League?
A grand name, but in the end, it was just a collection of stinking, uneducated river pirates.
No matter how inviolable the boundary between the government and Murim was, to the young man they were nothing but bandits who ought to be beaten down on sight.
What had happened a few months ago had only hardened that belief.
“Those martial-world ruffians are merely subjects of the Great Nation. What is there for any of you to worry about?”
At the chill in his voice, the others hurriedly bowed their heads.
“Y-you are absolutely right!”
“I have no concerns at all. The government troops are as sharp as blades, and with a Young Master as wise as you here, why would we fear a few martial artists?”
The cannons had long since drowned out the music. The courtesans’ garments, which had fluttered like butterflies, had fallen still along with the mood.
The young man stood alone, looking down arrogantly at the bowed figures.
Pathetic. What are a few martial artists, anyway?
The drunken haze that had felt pleasant just fifteen minutes ago now irritated him. Even the courtesans, who’d seemed to have descended from heaven, had lost their appeal.
Perhaps it was the terrible memories from not so long ago. His anger refused to subside. He raised a hand and pointed toward the Yangtze.
“Everyone, raise your heads and look at those river pirates! Watch them shatter before the might of the Great Nation!”
He turned as he shouted—and blinked.
“Huh?”
Did I drink too much?
That was his first thought.
But even after rubbing his eyes hard with his sleeve and looking again, the scene before him remained unchanged.
No, something had changed.
The boat that should have sunk long ago was closing in at tremendous speed.
“Huh?”
“Oh?”
“What the hell is that?”
The courtesans, who’d been watching their employer for cues, and those who’d reluctantly raised their heads at the young man’s order, all blinked as they watched the unbelievable sight.
How is it still in one piece?
Didn’t they fire the cannons?
They did, though.
Come to think of it, they’ve been firing this whole time, haven’t they?
Huh? They’re firing right now, too.
As someone had noticed, more than ten military vessels were still busy firing cannonballs. Their volleys were far more frantic and disordered than before.
“Y-you idiots! Shoot straight!”
“We are shooting straight!”
“Then why aren’t you hitting it?”
“We are! We definitely hit it! We heard the sound!”
“Then why is it still in one piece?”
“How the fuck should we know?”
The soldier meant every word of that curse.
They’d fired, and fired, and fired again. By now, the military vessels had launched hundreds of cannonballs between them.
They hadn’t trained enough, and their aim might have been complete shit, but surely one shot should have hit by now. That was just common sense.
And yet… the boat was still in one piece.
The sleek vessel cutting through the black current as it approached from the darkness looked like a ghost.
Why?
Fear crept up alongside the question in every mind.
Every sailor had heard stories of ghost ships that cannonballs couldn’t sink—and whose dead crews wouldn’t stay dead.
I-is it really a ghost ship?
But this is the Yangtze, not the sea.
Then is the Yangtze a sea?
While the soldiers’ absurd thoughts chased one another around, the young man had come right up to the bow of the pleasure boat. He was putting to the test the strange gift he’d received just that day: an instrument called a thousand-li lens.
What he saw horrified him.
“This is insane…”
He muttered the vulgar words without realizing it, then stood there gaping.
Through the thousand-li lens, he could see something he could hardly believe.
Boom! Boom! Craaash!
Cannonballs bounced away amid the thunderous blasts.
No—people were knocking away the cannonballs as they came hurtling toward the ship.
“Y-Young Master. What’s happening?”
At the voice by his ear, the young man hesitated.
How could he explain what he’d seen? Would they think he was mad?
But his concern vanished almost at once.
Through the thousand-li lens, he’d spotted a face he could never forget, however hard he tried.
“Uh, uh, uhhhh!”
Making strange noises as though he’d forgotten how to speak, Ju Wongong shouted toward the military vessels.
“Cease fire! Stop! This is an imperial command—no, an imperial-family command from me, His Majesty the Emperor’s eighth-degree relative!”
Far away, Jin Taekyung recognized Ju Wongong and muttered when he heard the shout.
“I’ve heard of an imperial command, but what the hell is an imperial-family command?”
Namho, who knew a thing or two, answered.
“Imperial-family command, my ass. He’s talking shit. You know him?”
“Yeah. Well…”
Jin Taekyung scratched the back of his head and added:
“I saved his life once when our paths crossed.”
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