Chapter 13

“Well, is the demonstration going smoothly?”

“Yes, Master.”

Jinhye answered with a sidelong glance at Jinmu.

“Ah, I ran into him on the way. Jinmu said he wanted to watch the Yeongeun Palace disciples demonstrate their skills.”

“Ah, yes…”

The prospect was far from welcome, but with his master present, Jinhye couldn’t show it.

“Senior Brother, it’s been a while. Repairing Haegeomji has kept me so busy lately that I haven’t been able to visit often.”

“Oh. Yes.”

Jinhye accepted the greeting grudgingly.

Busy with repairs? Where does this little bastard get off lying?

Jinhye had been secretly watching what Jinmu and the martial artists of the Cheong generation got up to at Haegeomji.

More than fifteen days had passed, yet their repairs amounted to no more than a few wooden stands driven into the ground. Most days, all they did was catch wild animals and stuff their faces.

“Jinmu, lately you’ve been…”

Jinhye was about to casually mention his misdeeds for Myeonggong’s benefit when—

“So this is the benefactor who helped Wudang?”

Jinmu had already walked past Jinhye and was approaching Geum Jeoksan.

“I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Jinmu, Senior Brother Jinhye’s junior martial brother.”

“Pardon? Ah! I’m Geum Jeoksan. You were at Haegeomji earlier today. You look so young, yet you’re already a first-generation disciple. How impressive.”

“Ha ha! What a remarkable eye you have. I’m rather shy around strangers, so I couldn’t bring myself to greet you earlier.”

“…I see.”

He seemed far too affable to be shy around strangers.

“Fortunately, I heard about your visit in advance and spoke to the youngsters of the Cheong generation. Otherwise, we might have caused you considerable offense.”

“Pardon? How so?”

“Your sword.”

Smiling brightly, Jinmu pointed to the sword hanging at Geum Jeoksan’s waist.

“Ah, th-this is…”

It was obviously ornamental.

But faced with Jinmu’s smiling expression, Geum Jeoksan struggled to finish.

He, too, knew perfectly well what Haegeomji signified.

“Oh, I’m not finding fault. I only mean that we hold you in such esteem as an honored guest that we allowed you through Haegeomji without asking you to remove your sword, Guildmaster.”

“My apologies. That was thoughtless of me.”

When Geum Jeoksan apologized, Myeonggong checked Jinmu with a show of sternness.

“Now, Jinmu. That will do. You’re putting the guildmaster in an awkward position.”

Yet Myeonggong also felt a swell of pride.

Haegeomji.

It was the very embodiment of Wudang’s pride.

Naturally, there should be no exceptions for anyone.

But lately, no one had said a word about it.

Come to think of it, they had been so blinded by the merchant’s wealth that no one had given a thought to his entering Purple Firmament Palace with a sword openly worn at his waist.

Ho ho. Has the sect leader judged him correctly after all? He may be breaking the prohibition on meat, but this boy is speaking up for Wudang’s pride when no one else has.

Jinmu had reminded them of that without causing ill feeling on either side, and Myeonggong was secretly delighted.

“Oh, I heard there would be a demonstration of the Nine Palaces Sword Formation today.”

“Yes.”

“Might I be permitted to watch?”

“Hmm? You?”

“Yes. I’ve never actually seen Wudang’s great sword formation, the Nine Palaces, in action…”

Jinmu blushed as if embarrassed, bringing a pleased expression to Myeonggong’s face.

Expectations for Jinmu’s talent had been growing lately.

Moreover, the recent account of Cheongu defeating Cheongsang had been more than enough to stir both Myeonggong’s hopes and curiosity.

“Very well. You may.”

“Thank you, Martial Uncle!”

Jinmu’s eyes shone as though he might jump for joy, leaving Myeonggong all the more pleased.

“Jinhye. Begin.”

“Yes, Master.”

As Jinhye bowed to Myeonggong, Jinmu chimed in.

“I’m very much looking forward to it, Senior Brother.”

“Y-yes.”

Inwardly, Jinhye ground his teeth. Until a moment ago, all the attention had been focused on him.

But now—

That damned bastard…

This sudden intruder was drawing everyone’s attention away from him. And in Yeongeun Palace, his own backyard, no less.

The sight of that younger martial brother standing on the platform beside his master, Myeonggong, and Geum Jeoksan, looking down at him like some honored guest, was utterly galling.

“Deploy the Nine Palaces Sword Formation!”

But the demonstration came first.

With his master watching, there could not be the slightest mistake.

Jinhye joined the ranks with a ringing shout, and the second-generation disciples formed up as one.

“Open the formation!”

The formation opened. Twenty disciples divided to either side, each taking a different position as they deployed the sword formation.

Each sword followed its own path, then the scattered strikes suddenly converged.

“What an interesting formation.”

As Jinmu watched the formation unfold with curious eyes, Myeonggong regarded him fondly.

“Worth watching, is it?”

“Yes. Though the way they concentrate their attacks leaves something to be desired.”

“Leaves something to be desired?”

“Yes.”

“What gives you that impression?”

“Well, I haven’t learned anything about sword formations yet, so I can’t say for certain. But when the scattered swords converge again, they should overwhelm the enemy in a single instant. Somehow, they seem slightly out of alignment.”

“…?”

Geum Jeoksan looked puzzled, unable to follow, but Myeonggong’s eyes had widened in astonishment.

“G-go on.”

“Hmm. It feels as though they’re committing too heavily. If it were me, I’d escape where the left flank begins. They might do better to slow the swords over there and lure the enemy in, then add a sharper edge within to catch the enemy… This is complicated. I suppose I’ll need to study more before I understand.”

“…!”

Myeonggong could only blink as Jinmu precisely identified the sword formation’s shortcomings.

His interpretation of the Nine Palaces Sword Formation pointed to the subtleties of the Nine Palaces Eight Trigrams Formation, which incorporated the Eight Gates.

“Ha! Is this truly your first time seeing a sword formation?”

“Pardon?”

Jinmu looked utterly innocent. As though he didn’t even know what the word “sword” in “sword formation” meant.

“I’m sorry. I know nothing about it, yet here I am talking out of turn…”

What was there to be so surprised about?

When they were putting on such a pitiful excuse for a Nine Palaces Formation…

His private thoughts were another matter entirely, but Jinmu scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Myeonggong stared at him, mouth hanging open.

How can this be? He grasps it simply by watching? Not only how to break the formation, but how to improve it as well?

Myeonggong had heard of his exceptional talent time and again, but encountering it firsthand was astonishing beyond words.

“Er, what do you mean? It all looks quite impressive to me…”

Left out of the conversation, Geum Jeoksan gently interjected.

“Ah, my apologies. How terribly rude of me, when we have a guest.”

“Not at all. Your conversation simply piqued my curiosity…”

At Geum Jeoksan’s words, Myeonggong nodded and looked at Jinmu with pride.

“In truth, this boy only began learning martial arts a short while ago, but his talent is so exceptional that our sect has great hopes for him. Even the sect leader is keeping a close eye on him.”

There was no reason to explain the sword formation in detail to an outsider, and a merchant wouldn’t understand it anyway.

Rather than bewilder Geum Jeoksan with a complicated explanation, Myeonggong heaped praise on Jinmu.

But this could only give Geum Jeoksan pause.

What’s this? Wudang’s sect leader has an eye on him? Was someone else in line to become head disciple all along?

Jinhye was the person he intended to invest in.

He planned to stoke Jinhye’s greed to become Wudang’s master, then bleed the whole sect dry once Jinhye became sect leader.

And now some new brat had appeared out of nowhere.

Jinmu, was it…?

The image of Jinmu, wearing that rather guileless expression, etched itself firmly into Geum Jeoksan’s mind.

And—

Jinmu had not missed the change in the merchant’s eyes.

Heh heh. You bastard. Scheme all you like—you lot are Sun Wukong in the Buddha’s palm. Well, we’ve been introduced, and I seem to have made a decent impression. Now, how do I get closer…?

Concealing his true intentions, Jinmu continued watching the sword formation and playing the innocent.

Meanwhile, oblivious to it all, Jinhye was diligently directing the formation, eager to impress Myeonggong and Geum Jeoksan.

---

“Hmm…”

Jinmu’s face was clouded with worry as he prepared his master’s supper.

“Haaah. What am I going to do?”

He let out a sigh deep enough to sink the earth.

It was the day after the Cheongyang Merchant Guild’s people had left, and Jinmu was trying to work out how to approach them.

In the old days, he could have told Myeong Sechan, commander of the Concealment and Deception Corps, “Hey, dig up some dirt on the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.” Within a day, he would have learned even what fabric Geum Jeoksan’s underwear was made of.

But now he was merely an ordinary Taoist cooped up on Mount Wudang. He had no way to find out more about the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.

All he knew at present was this:

Geum Jeoksan intended to exploit Wudang, and the Cheongyang Merchant Guild was secretly making money through that admirable line of commerce known as “smuggling.”

Of course, he saw nothing wrong with Jinhye becoming head disciple and sliding into corruption while taking backhanders from the guild’s Geum Jeoksan.

But—

I can’t let someone else stake a claim to what’s mine. I need to clean them out…

To do that, of course, he needed to learn more about the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.

And to learn more, he needed to get close to them. But as things stood, Jinmu had no way to leave Mount Wudang.

He needed a pretext.

“Haaah…”

He happened to turn and saw Cheongu off to one side, roasting meat and stuffing his face.

The brat didn’t even bother hiding it anymore.

Apparently it was hot, because he was blowing on it. When their eyes met, he gave Jinmu a little grin.

Useless bloody freeloader.

Not the slightest help with his problem.

“Cheongu.”

“Yes, Martial Uncle!”

“Stop stuffing your face and set my master’s table.”

“Yes, sir!”

He could at least stop looking so pointlessly cheerful.

Still, the boy was dependable and did as he was told. Every time Jinmu saw him, he was reminded of Cheon U-myeong, so he couldn’t bring himself to hate him.

Cheongu carried in a meal table piled generously with meat, and Myeongjin welcomed him with a bright smile.

“Have you eaten?”

“We’ve…”

“No!”

Drooling over the tableful of meat, Cheongu shook his head.

This bastard had just been stuffing his face.

“Then let’s eat together for a change.”

“Yes!”

The brat really was always the same.

With little choice in the matter, Jinmu joined Myeongjin and Cheongu for a supper fragrant with meat.

Even as they ate, he kept turning over ways to approach the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.

“Jinmu.”

“…”

“Jinmu?”

“Yes? Ah, what did you say?”

“Hmm.”

Myeongjin tilted his head.

“Is something troubling you?”

“Ah, no. Nothing much…”

Had he been too deep in thought? Realizing his mistake, Jinmu gave a faint smile, but Cheongu chimed in.

“He’s been like this ever since the Cheongyang Merchant Guild’s visit.”

“The Cheongyang Merchant Guild?”

“Yes. The guild that came two days ago. I heard at Wonhwa Hall that they gave Wudang quite a large donation, and Martial Grandfather Myeongseon was delighted.”

Cheongu mumbled his reply around a mouthful of meat.

The Cheongyang Merchant Guild, is it? Ah, well. It is about time he saw the world.

Only then did Myeongjin smile.

Jinmu had already reached twenty.

At his age, wouldn’t seeing visitors from the secular world stir his curiosity?

Even with the sect’s gates closed to the outside world, he would have ventured down the mountain like his senior martial brothers long ago, had his master’s health permitted it.

The boy’s spent years all but trapped on this mountain, tending to me…

Myeongjin gazed at him wistfully, but Jinmu was too lost in his own thoughts to notice.

When the meal was over, Myeongjin spoke as Jinmu carried out the table.

“What day of the month is it tomorrow?”

“The fourth.”

“The fourth… Very well.”

“I’ll take my leave, then.”

“Of course.”

Looking pleased, Myeongjin nodded to him.

What? The bastard’s had his dinner. What the hell is he grinning about?

Unable to fathom the meaning of that smile, Jinmu merely tilted his head.