Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Mount Song

"..."

Zhu Weiyeon barely managed to compose himself.

Though clearly flustered, he knew he couldn't make something up out of nothing.

Treason?

He'd never dreamt of such a thing, not even in his wildest imagination.

"That's absurd. You say I tried to start a rebellion? If this is just about some silver coins I received, I could understand you trying to blackmail me. But treason? That's so ridiculous I don't even feel like refuting it."

"I have no desire to hear your rebuttal either. As I said, neither of us is the one who will judge."

"..."

Zhu Weiyeon quietly closed his mouth.

He knew how his own grandfather had been accused of treason.

He knew well how great the storm caused by just a few careless words could be.

His gaze naturally drifted down—he saw a shattered teacup in pieces.

"..."

Taking the sight in, Zhu Weiyeon spoke slowly.

"If you truly intended to send those things to Beijing, you wouldn't have come to see me directly."

"..."

"What do you want from me? Speak plainly."

He straightened his back, trying not to lose his dignity even when cornered.

He reminded himself of his noble identity once more.

He was not someone to beg for another's mercy.

He was someone who had to bestow mercy upon others.

"You certainly have no shame for someone accepting bribes from those on the Dark Path."

"Am I the only official who takes silver coins from those in the martial world? Honestly, your kind of blackmail is petty. Even if you took that to Beijing, who would believe you? For all your martial skills, your intellect is sorely lacking."

"That might be the case if you were just an average official."

"What do you mean by that?"

"If you're the grandson of someone executed for treason, wouldn't things be different?"

"...!"

Zhu Weiyeon fell silent.

His hidden weakness was laid bare by his foe's mouth.

The problem was, the man's words weren't wrong.

For any other District Head, receiving a few silver coins wouldn't concern the royal family.

They didn't have the leeway to bother with such trifles nowadays.

But if that District Head was a descendant of a traitor?

That changed things.

No one would bother to carefully investigate if such rumors were true or not.

The military could march just based on such a small suspicion.

Wasn't that the kind of world they now lived in?

A calm voice continued from behind him.

"You're right about one thing. The reason I didn't head to Beijing directly and came to you instead is because I wanted something."

"Speak."

"You must know the silver coins you received have a filthy origin. They were wrung from the peasants you were supposed to protect."

"...?"

'This bastard?'

Zhu Weiyeon's expression turned strange.

His eyes narrowed, and his head tilted ever so slightly.

The voice behind him continued.

"In your position, you could live in comfort until the day you died. Just never take money from those in the martial world again. Do that, and I'll let this pass quietly."

"... You..."

Zhu Weiyeon slowly spoke, a strange smile forming at the edge of his lips.

"You're not some assassin sent by anyone, are you? You came here of your own will."

"..."

"Your intentions are clear, and it amuses me. Do you want to play at being a chivalrous hero in an age like this?"

"Think what you want, as I told you."

"So you cut down all those of the Dark Path out of the same ideal?"

"..."

Zhu Weiyeon spoke leisurely.

Even his tone now had an almost musical calmness.

"A hero... Are there still people like you in this land? Who inspired you to chase such a dream? Do you know what became of all those once called 'great hero'? Don't you know they die younger than ordinary peasants? It's because this 'chivalry' all comes from mere private emotions. I should remember your face. You, too, will soon..."

Thud!

In an instant, his vision went black.

He didn't even have time to feel the pain.

All his life, he'd only ever felt the ground with the soles of his feet.

Now Zhu Weiyeon's face was pressed into the bare floor.

"You...!"

"Shut your mouth."

Zhu Weiyeon froze—not just because of the chilling tone.

The cold sensation against the back of his neck was impossibly distinct.

"As I said earlier."

Ssshh—

The blade slowly traced a thin line across Zhu Weiyeon's neck.

On skin pale from never seeing sunlight, a slender red line appeared.

"Aaagh!"

Zhu Weiyeon let out a thin scream.

It was a pain he'd never known.

He could vividly feel hot blood running down his neck.

"Frankly, killing you would be easier for me."

Ssshh—

"W-wait!"

Zhu Weiyeon shouted, his voice trembling fiercely.

The blade brushed past his neck as softly as a calligraphy brush.

The sensation was chilling.

More than the pain, it was the terror that at any moment the blade could pierce his flesh that terrified him.

"Yet the only reason I'm not killing you is because dealing with the aftermath would be tiresome."

"P-please, put the knife away."

"Don't let my anger outweigh that inconvenience."

"Please..."

Tick.

At last, the blade left his neck.

Zhu Weiyeon exhaled unconsciously.

"I don't expect much from you. Just go on living, enjoying your inflated self-importance. But."

"...?"

"If, when you feel like taking silver from those in the martial world again, run your hand across your neck and ask yourself—can you really handle it?"

"..."

"Till we meet again."

"...!"

Those final words sent a chill down his spine.

Blood was still running warm down his neck, while the blade that poised to pierce his flesh finally withdrew.

'I'm alive.'

Just as he let out a deep breath, a cool voice pressed down on him from above.

"Don't ever forget that you, too, are nothing more than a human made of flesh and blood."

Saaa—

A strange, gentle breeze blew from behind.

At the same time, the pressure binding his body vanished.

Zhu Weiyeon realized his acupoints had been released.

He slowly raised his upper body.

Then, turning sharply, he looked behind him.

"..."

No one was there.

The room was just as it had been when he'd gotten out of bed.

There was no sign anyone had broken in or left.

It was a testament to the intruder's martial mastery.

Zhu Weiyeon slowly turned his head forward again.

Next to the shattered teacup, his bright-red blood was splattered.

It was the first time he'd ever seen his own blood.

Almost unconsciously, he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

His palm came away drenched in crimson.

"..."

Zhu Weiyeon stared at the blood in his hand for a long while, his eyes trembling.

* * *

The faint chill of dawn disappeared beneath the sunlight.

Tiny drops on the tips of leaves shattered under the wake of a passing fine horse.

Dada, dada!

Jeong-un's horse pounded the ground without rest. The Murim Alliance branch was famously meticulous in caring for its horses.

This was so that warriors sent on missions would never be held up.

The cold wind cut sharply across Jeong-un's cheek, yet his face was not pale—instead, it was oddly flushed.

His true ki ceaselessly circulated, filling his body with warmth.

Martial artists were a different breed even in terms of survival.

More importantly, Jeong-un now had a vast, concentrated ki in his dantian. He had fully made it his own. Even with small movements, he could acutely sense how he had changed compared to before.

After riding a while, the horse finally slowed to catch its breath.

Jeong-un glanced back. Far down the long main road, the walls of Kaifeng District faded into a distant scene.

"..."

Jeong-un thought of the District Head. A sharp man. He seemed to instinctively sense that Jeong-un would not kill him.

'He's a troublesome target.'

There were only about a hundred-some District Heads in the whole country. It was an office on a far higher level than the area magistrate he'd met before.

Among them, Zhu Weiyeon alone had imperial blood in his veins. Touching such a man rashly could truly provoke a powerful response from the royal family. If they saw it as a challenge to the throne, things could become exceedingly complicated.

Even so, he had put a blade to the man's neck. Jeong-un had little choice. He'd even forged false books to intimidate him, but the man had stayed calm and unmoved.

From his conduct, it was clear no mere words would elicit the answer Jeong-un wanted.

'He'll have understood by now.'

The truth was, he'd half-intended to take the man's head. It was no lie that he only restrained himself because the aftermath would be a hassle. Had Zhu Weiyeon refused to yield after several threats, Jeong-un might really have killed him.

Fortunately, the man valued his own life and was quick on the uptake.

Those most susceptible to threats were often that type. The man would now hesitate to take money from martial artists.

'And whenever he feels tempted, his neck will itch.'

People in the martial world experienced all manner of things. It was no exaggeration.

Hadn't he just seen the blood of someone with one of the highest statuses in the world? Yet to Jeong-un, it was just the same red as anyone else's.

And so, the young man closed out his mission in Kaifeng.

* * *

As he drew closer to Mount Song, where Shaolin was located, he felt ever nearer to the center of the Central Plains.

Even the air on his skin felt different here from anywhere else.

Though he'd only reached the outskirts, the faces of the people passing by were so much brighter.

In the days before the Heavenly Martial Hall, Luoyang County of Henan was considered the heart of the martial world.

It was a place of great historical significance.

The proximity to Shaolin Temple, plus the nearby metropolis of Kaifeng District, added to that aura.

So it was only natural that Hyeonseong, just north of Shaolin's slopes, was a bustling place.

It was a city under the direct protection of Shaolin—the beacon of the orthodox martial world.

Of course people gathered there.

"Rooms available! We have rooms!"

"Noodles loaded with meat for sale! The oil from the meat floats on the broth!"

Entered into Hyeonseong, Jeong-un handed the horse's reins at the Murim Alliance branch, then made for a nearby guesthouse.

He was already decked out in blue martial garb and norigae. He had carefully changed long before entering the city.

'Let's have a look around first.'

Mount Song was not a high mountain.

The middle slopes where Shaolin was located could be climbed in a single bound by any martial artist.

Only not just anyone could pass through those monastery gates.

"Welcome!"

As he entered the guesthouse, the servant greeted him with practiced vivacity.

Jeong-un regarded the boy curiously.

He seemed very used to martial artists.

Normally, just the sight of a sword at the hip would cause servants to approach trembling, never knowing when the temperamental guest might draw steel.

But this servant seemed wholly unfazed by Jeong-un's weapon—he turned his back without hesitation, as if it was simply routine.

It showed just how securely Shaolin maintained order in the neighboring villages.

"Is it always so crowded here?"

After taking a seat, Jeong-un asked casually.

The servant shook his head brightly.

"It's never exactly quiet, but lately, ever since the Shaolin Assembly, the crowds have been endless."

Jeong-un nodded. He simply ordered a plate of dumplings and requested a room for an extended stay.

The servant flashed a broad grin at the large silver coin Jeong-un handed him, then dashed straight off to the kitchen.

With the food served, Jeong-un calmly took in his surroundings.

He wanted to observe things before making any moves—a lesson learned from Baek Il-gang.

The guesthouse was not large; yet, the tables were packed close together, every seat full.

Customers came in all sorts.

A surprising number were not martial artists at all.

'They said peasants always flock here to witness the bell-ringing.'

They said that every New Year's Day, a great bell-ringing ceremony was held.

Countless people gathered to make wishes and watch.

It was the only time of year Shaolin opened its main gate wide.

Many also came in hopes of watching the martial artists' duels.

Normally, seeing a martial arts fight was a sign of great misfortune—whether or not a blade struck you, bystanders could easily die in the chaos.

Oftentimes when such deaths happened, nobody even tried to find the killer; it was just erased from memory.

Families would weep for a few days, then resume life as normal, as if used to it.

After all, a martial artist's blade could strike as suddenly as a natural disaster.

Even so, people were fascinated.

From ancient times, watching a fight had always been a spectacle.

And if the combatants were martial artists? Even more so—especially if Shaolin itself oversaw the event.

'... Is that really so enjoyable?'

Jeong-un muttered softly to himself.

Truthfully, except for special cases like entrance exams, he had seldom watched other people's duels.

He was usually the one up there fighting.

At this point, just watching someone else display their martial arts didn't benefit him much.

He was no longer a novice hesitating to pursue an enemy due to lack of lightness skill.

Just then, a shout rang out from outside the guesthouse.

There was no internal energy in the voice; just an ordinary call.

"A duel! Two martial artists are fighting!"

Jeong-un's gaze turned outward.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=

The events in Kaifeng are more like a side quest for Jeong-un to get stronger before going to the main quest...

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】