Chapter 860

Murim martial artists were like weeds.

You found them in dark back alleys and on bright main streets. They survived in the depths of the mountains and even out on the vast Yangtze.

Perhaps that was why the world they lived in came to be called Murim—the forest of martial arts.

Ruffians who ignored common sense and the law.

But even among the Murim martial artists who had carved out a forest of their own with sharply honed spears and blades, not all of them could grow into towering trees.

In the vast forest of Murim, only the Nine Sects and One Gang, the Five Great Families, and a few other forces that had established themselves as rulers of a province could claim that distinction. And those few hadn’t yet reached the heights of the great sects and families.

The Jin Family of Taiyuan is one of them, too.

I thought to myself as I looked out the window.

Merchants hawking their wares. A woodcutter passing by, sweating buckets under a full load of firewood. Ordinary commoners and dignitaries dressed in silk.

All sorts of people were out there, making up a society. But one particular sort I’d seen almost everywhere until now was hard to spot.

“You can’t find any, can you?”

“Pardon?”

“Murim martial artists. Ones like Young Master Jin.”

Hong Jin had read my thoughts exactly. A smile spread across his powder-white face.

“I thought I’d tell you before you waste your energy looking. They’re hard to find in Jiangsu Province. That’s just the kind of place this is.”

“I’ve heard something to that effect… Is it because we’re so close to the imperial capital?”

“That must be part of it. They can’t let those ruffians run wild near the imperial capital, where the Son of Heaven resides.”

Hong Jin glanced at Hyuk Mujin and me, then added, “Just so you don’t misunderstand, that’s how the people at the top see it. The higher up they are, the more they care about appearances.”

It sounded like he was saying that to keep me from taking offense, but he didn’t need to. I could see the reasoning.

Well, to be precise, there were plenty of Murim martial artists who went too far.

But proximity to the imperial capital couldn’t explain everything. Hyuk Mujin’s next question was along the same lines.

“Then what about the Namgung Family, sitting right there in Anhui? They’re not all that far from the imperial capital, either.”

“Before I answer that, let me ask you the reverse. What’s left among the provinces next to the imperial capital, apart from the Namgung Family in Anhui?”

“Apart from the Namgung Family… Well, there’s…”

Hyuk Mujin struggled to finish, and Hong Jin let out a quiet chuckle.

“Nothing. Jiangxi, Fujian, Jiangsu, and Anhui. Of the four provinces surrounding Zhejiang, where the imperial capital stands, the Namgung Family is the only famous Murim sect. There are exceptions, of course.”

“Exceptions?”

“Yeah. How should I put it? Judging by its history, it sounds like it ought to be dangerous, but the imperial court would feel uneasy about going out of its way to provoke it. Can you think of a sect like that, Martial artist Hyuk?”

Hyuk Mujin frowned in thought.

“If I went looking, I could probably find a few sects. But is there really one like that? Compared to the Namgung Family in Anhui, they’d be worth less than a horse’s balls.”

“Martial artist Hyuk, I don’t have any balls.”

“Ah! I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t need to apologize that much. It just felt strange hearing it. Anyway, you really can’t think of one?”

“No. Of course not.”

Just then, I smacked Hyuk Mujin on the back of the head, the idiot who’d answered so confidently.

Whack!

“The Fire Gate Clan, you asshole! The Fire Gate Clan!”

“Ugh! Ow!”

“Mount Jiuhua in Anhui Province! Three hundred years of history! You saying the Fire Gate Clan’s worth less than a horse’s balls? You think the Fire Gate Clan’s a bunch of fucking pushovers?”

For the record, I was in my second year with the Fire Gate Clan and diligently working my way through the heir-apparent training program.

As I beat Hyuk Mujin with my burning love for the company as fuel, Hong Jin spoke quietly.

“Um, Young Master Jin, sorry, but…”

“Oh, sorry. You don’t have those either.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was worried His Highness would wake up. And being a eunuch doesn’t mean both are gone. I think I told you that before.”

“My apologies again. I forgot you were only missing one.”

“…All right. Just be careful, please. And keep your voice down so His Highness doesn’t wake.”

Looking half resigned, Hong Jin glanced at Prince Shangshan Zhu Bao, who was sleeping peacefully, and went on.

“Anyway, Murim martial artists haven’t been able to run wild in the provinces bordering the imperial capital, not just Zhejiang. That goes for followers of demonic, heterodox arts, of course. Even the Namgung Family—a towering tree of the orthodox faction and one of the Five Great Families—had to call on every connection it had among high-ranking officials.”

“It was that bad?”

“Yes. It started right after the Great Nation was founded, so we’re talking about a long time ago. But things have stayed that way ever since. No matter how rough Murim martial artists are, I doubt they want to meet the same fate as the Maoshan Sect.”

“The Maoshan Sect?”

The name sounded familiar. It had come up now and then in the wuxia¹ novels I’d loved reading back in school.

It wasn’t a major sect like the Nine Sects and One Gang, which appeared in practically every novel. More of a minor one. Still, I could remember a few things about it.

Come to think of it…

“You mean the Maoshan Sect famous for sorcery rather than martial arts?”

“Hm? You didn’t know? It used to be right here in Jiangsu Province.”

It wasn’t as if I were some old master like the Fire King, who’d lived for over a hundred years. How was I supposed to know everything that had happened when the Great Nation was founded?

But I’d caught something in what Hong Jin said.

Used to be in Jiangsu Province…

Past tense, not present. He’d also mentioned the Maoshan Sect’s fate, and I’d never once heard its name during my time in Murim. The pieces fell into place.

“It disappeared. A long time ago.”

“Correct.”

Hong Jin snapped his fingers cheerfully.

“When Taizu founded the Great Nation, he chose this region for his capital. Nanjing, in Jiangsu Province, had been the seat of six dynasties. It became the imperial family’s first home.”

“So what happened?”

“With a new unified dynasty on the rise, could they really let the ruffians of the martial world run wild? Once the imperial edict went out, everything moved at lightning speed. Most of the sects in Jiangsu Province moved elsewhere. You’re starting to see where this is going, aren’t you?”

Most of the sects, not all of them.

Guessing what came next, I murmured, “The Maoshan Sect didn’t.”

“Right. A small number of Murim sects, including the Maoshan Sect, refused the imperial order to leave Jiangsu and held on to their headquarters. They say the Maoshan Sect was big enough to rival the Nine Sects and One Gang back then, so it could afford to be stubborn. But…”

The Great Nation’s first emperor had risen from the dirt and opened a new era—but he hadn’t been as magnanimous as the Maoshan Sect had thought.

“According to the surviving records, a hundred thousand Imperial Guards were dispatched. They killed and burned everything. They didn’t leave behind a single blade of grass or even an ant.”

“…!”

“…!”

“That was how the Maoshan Sect was wiped out. Afterward, no Murim sect established itself in Jiangsu again. Not even after the current Son of Heaven moved the capital to Zhejiang.”

Jiangsu wasn’t merely the site of the old imperial capital.

It was a Murim-free zone the Imperial Guards had already swept clean, the imperial family’s front yard, still steeped in the first emperor’s legacy.

And what that meant for us was clear.

We can forget about asking for help.

Until now, we’d been able to find help almost anywhere. Every province had a sect or two that had put down roots there, and most of them were friendly toward Jeok Cheongang or the Murim Alliance.

That had held true even in Nanman, practically the middle of nowhere, and on our recent journey, when we’d had no choice but to charge straight ahead.

The Nanman Beast Palace had old ties with the Fire Gate Clan. The Beggars’ Sect and the Lower District Sect, both under the Murim Alliance, had prepared food or fine horses at stops along our route to Jiangsu.

But not from here on out.

If Jiangsu, the old imperial capital, was like this, what would Zhejiang, home to the current capital, be like?

Completely Murim-free. Maybe the odd neighborhood martial arts school.

If the worst happened, what we’d need most was fighting strength. And there wouldn’t be a group with the strength I wanted anywhere nearby.

Forget the Nine Sects and One Gang or the Five Great Families. We were down to a neighborhood Taekwondo² school.

No, I guess it would be a tai chi³ school here.

Just picturing a crowd in colorful matching uniforms rushing to our aid made me dizzy.

“We’ve come to help!”

“What sect are you from?”

“Kyunghee Tai Chi!”

“Oh, I see… If you don’t mind me asking, how far along are you in your martial arts?”

“I’m a black belt!”

“Ah…”

“The Zhejiang Kendo⁴ Association is here, too!”

“Ahhh…”

I could only hope they weren’t from the kids’ class.

It was bad enough to fall for that bait-and-switch pitch: sign up for the martial arts school and get three million mesos⁵—no, three taels⁶ in iron coins. If those kids wound up facing the Imperial Guards too, how could I ever look their parents in the eye?

“At least let it be the adult class. The afternoon adult class…”

“Young Master Jin. Young Master Jin?”

I’d been muttering in a daze, but Hong Jin’s call snapped me back to my senses.

“Ah.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Really? You’re sweating like it’s pouring rain.”

“I had a bad thought for a moment.”

Hong Jin’s face darkened.

“I’m starting to feel bad for calling you here. But I couldn’t help it. You were the only person I could think of.”

“No. I understand.”

If Hong Jin had only needed someone he could trust, he could have asked the nearby Jin Family of Taiyuan for support.

But, to be blunt, there was no one in the family as strong as me.

No—someone who met all his requirements would be hard to find anywhere under heaven.

Hong Jin didn’t just want someone he trusted. He wanted someone strong enough to save Prince Shangshan Zhu Bao from any threat.

There’s the Murim Alliance, but moving another Supreme Peak master Hong Jin could trust on such short notice would’ve been too risky.

Even moving a rock on the beach left a mark.

The Alliance had probably already stationed forces across the land in preparation for a battle with Dark Heaven. Pulling out a Supreme Peak master would leave an enormous gap.

Given the stakes and the timing, Jeok Cheongang and I, having just finished our mission in Nanman, were probably the most dependable people Hong Jin could have called on.

This could eat away at the very foundations of the nation.

I kept that thought to myself. Then a voice I still couldn’t get used to, no matter how often I heard it, came from outside the window.

“We’ll reach Suzhou soon.”

The voice was as hard as stone. Jeong Hogun, a Thousand Captain of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, looked at me through the gap in the window.

“Inform His Highness Prince Shangshan. He will have an audience with His Imperial Majesty before the day is out.”