The place Cheon-yo headed for was not the headquarters of the Martial Alliance.
It was Shanxi Province.
He had come here because of a single letter given to him by Baek Bul-in, the Alliance Leader, when they last met. Written within were the name of a man who would aid him, and the place where he could be found. Following those instructions, Cheon-yo arrived at Pingyao in Shanxi.
Here stood not the main headquarters, but the Shanxi branch of the Martial Alliance. Though far smaller than the main stronghold, it was still a branch of the Alliance; martial artists thronged the streets in overwhelming numbers.
Shhhhhhh.
Rain poured down.
Cheon-yo walked through the storm, a bamboo hat upon his head and a rain cloak draped about his shoulders. While passing beneath the eaves of a building, he spotted a middle-aged man taking shelter and approached him.
“Excuse me, may I ask you something?”
The man gave him a quick glance, noting the figure wrapped tight against the rain.
“What are you looking for?”
“Would you happen to know where the Yun family pharmacy is?”
“In this town? There’s no one who doesn’t know that place. Walk that way until you reach the main road, go straight for about a quarter of an hour, and you’ll see a large apothecary. That will be the Yun family’s shop.”
The Yun family pharmacy occupied a prime location at the entrance of the busiest street. Given such a spot, it was bustling with visitors, and Cheon-yo had little difficulty finding it.
Inside, despite the rainy day, the apothecary was crowded.
Cheon-yo stepped through the doorway, scanning the interior for a particular figure.
The one in green… that’s what the letter said.
Baek Bul-in’s message had instructed him to find the person in green. As Cheon-yo looked around, he found only one such figure: a young boy, somewhat apart from the customers, busily arranging herbs.
The boy turned when he sensed Cheon-yo approach.
“Are you looking for something?”
“I’ve come seeking a herb from the north—bitter, sweet, but not spicy.”
The phrase was written in Baek Bul-in’s letter. It was the passphrase. If this boy was not the one he sought, he would not understand it.
But the boy nodded at once.
“Ah, it’s ready for you. Please, come inside.”
He led Cheon-yo to a side door. Without hesitation, Cheon-yo followed.
Beyond the side door was a spacious compound, filled with storehouses for medicinal ingredients and other buildings. The boy said nothing, simply walking deeper inside. Cheon-yo followed in silence.
At last, the boy stopped before a building and called out:
“Sir, the guest you were waiting for has arrived.”
The words had scarcely fallen when—
Clatter!
The door swung open in haste, and a man in his mid-forties hurried out. His eyes darted over Cheon-yo from head to toe.
Cheon-yo slowly removed his bamboo hat, meeting the man’s gaze.
Excitement faded from the man’s eyes, replaced by disappointment.
Cheon-yo was far too young. His garb was plain, and though he was strikingly handsome, such things had little to do with martial skill.
Cheon-yo caught the flicker of doubt in the man’s expression.
“Disappointed, that I’m not the man you expected?”
“Ahem.”
Flustered, the man coughed. However unimpressive this stranger seemed, if he truly was the one sent by the Alliance Leader, then he could not be dismissed.
He gestured to the boy to withdraw. With a bow, the child left.
“May I come in?” Cheon-yo asked.
“Of… of course.”
The man nodded. Cheon-yo ascended the steps and entered the hall. Rain dripped from his cloak as he seated himself without ceremony. The man sat opposite and asked,
“Are you truly the one? The one sent by the Alliance Leader?”
“If you mean whether I was sent by that old man, then yes.”
Only after hearing this did the man believe. However unlikely, this had to be the person.
“I am Un-hak,” he said.
“Cheon-yo.”
Un-hak searched his memory, but the name meant nothing.
What on earth was the Alliance Leader thinking, entrusting us to this man?
He could not fathom it, yet his loyalty left no choice.
Cheon-yo asked, “If I was summoned here, then the Alliance Leader’s granddaughter must be at this Shanxi branch.”
Un-hak flinched.
Though no one had told him a thing, Cheon-yo had pierced straight to the truth. The Alliance’s most closely guarded secret—Baek Sang-a, the girl bound to the Blood Demon’s legacy, had been hidden away here.
Un-hak’s eyes widened.
Perhaps this man is not so ordinary after all…
“Correct,” he admitted.
“Then I am to rescue her from here?”
“Yes. The higher-ups of the Alliance intend to lock her in the Wan-Zang Prison. Once she is there, no one can bring her out. We must act before that happens.”
The Wan-Zang Prison.
A living hell built by the Martial Alliance. No sunlight ever reached within; yin energy pervaded every corner. Those imprisoned there wasted away, body and soul, until they rotted alive. None who entered had ever returned.
And that was where the Alliance meant to confine Baek Sang-a—though she bore no crime.
So terrified were they of the Blood Demon’s resurrection that they would rather destroy her than risk her falling to the Demonic Sect.
Un-hak asked, “How do you intend to rescue her? Tell me what I must do.”
Cheon-yo thought for a moment, then replied,
“What you must do is simple.”
“And that is?”
“Give me a map of this branch.”
“And?”
“That is all.”
“That’s… all?”
“Yes.”
Un-hak glanced around uneasily. “Have you brought companions with you?”
“I am alone.”
“You mean to go alone, into the Alliance’s Shanxi branch, and bring her out?”
“Of course.”
“Are you insane? Even if this is not the main headquarters, it is still the Martial Alliance! Alone—”
“Even if she were confined in the headquarters itself, nothing would change for me. It would simply take longer.”
“No matter how stealthy you are, you cannot escape without clashing with them.”
“I know.”
“They are not mere third-rate fighters. Even if the girl was brought here in secret, her guards will number in the hundreds, elite warriors of the Alliance. You will have to break through them.”
“That will not be difficult for me.”
Cheon-yo’s calm confidence left Un-hak gaping. Was it arrogance, or true assurance?
Either way, it was madness.
“This is impossible!” Un-hak burst out.
Cheon-yo regarded him evenly.
“What did the Alliance Leader tell you?”
“…To trust you absolutely.”
“Then you know what to do. First, get me the map. Second, believe in me.”
“Ugh…” Un-hak pressed a hand to his brow. This man was stubborn beyond measure. Yet he was right: they had only one chance. If they failed now, Baek Sang-a would vanish into the Wan-Zang Prison forever.
Un-hak leapt to his feet. “Wait here a moment.”
He strode to the door, flung it wide, and shouted with inner force,
“Assemble!”
At once, whoosh! Whoosh! Shadows flickered, and fifteen warriors gathered before the residence.
Still seated, Cheon-yo regarded them impassively.
“These are my most trusted men,” Un-hak declared. “With their help, success is certain. You should take them with you.”
The warriors stood in the rain, their bearing seasoned, their strength evident.
Not enough.
Numbers did not always mean strength. Against the Martial Alliance, men of middling skill would only become shackles.
Cheon-yo’s lips curved in disdain.
“So. You do not trust me.”
“It is not that I mistrust you,” Un-hak said quickly, “but I wish to be sure.”
Cheon-yo’s eyes flicked to the table nearby, where talismans lay stacked in piles.
“You keep many talismans. Do you believe in Daoist fortune-tellers?”
“What? Why ask that—”
“Because I thought to read your fortune in their place.”
With that, Cheon-yo slammed his palm upon the table.
Thud!
In an instant, the talismans scattered, rising into the air. Dozens of sheets floated weightless, spreading apart in midair.
Cheon-yo swept his hand.
Whiiiish!
The talismans shot out like flying blades.
Thwack! Thwack!
“Argh!”
Cries rang out. The papers had struck the gathered warriors with unerring precision, embedding themselves in each man’s shoulder—never once striking a vital point.
Fifteen elite warriors, brought low in a single move.
Un-hak stared, stunned into silence by the display.
Cheon-yo rose to his feet and stepped past him.
“I read the fortune. Alas, it seems they are not fated to walk with me today. Have the map ready by tonight.”
He patted Un-hak lightly on the shoulder, then flicked his hand backward.
Swish!
The talismans yanked free of the warriors’ shoulders and flew back into his grasp.
Without another word, Cheon-yo descended the steps and walked into the rain.
Drip, drop.
Blood and rain mingled in the puddles, splashing under his stride as though nothing at all had happened. He opened the door of a nearby warehouse and vanished within.
Only after he disappeared did Un-hak speak, gazing at his injured men.
“…Go, tend to your wounds.”
“And… the mission?” one of them asked.
Un-hak’s eyes lingered on the building into which Cheon-yo had vanished.
“He goes alone.”