Zhongnan Sect.
A signboard written in elegant calligraphy looked down upon the visitors filing in through the gate.
There was a strange sense of gravity emanating from the main entrance. Yet, no matter how I looked, I couldn't find any reason for it.
Perhaps because it was built halfway up the mountain, it wasn't particularly large, and perhaps because it was a Taoist sect, its decorations were far from extravagant.
Nor were the Zhongnan disciples, who served as gatekeepers and guided visitors, particularly intimidating.
What exactly was creating this presence? Just as I was pondering this, I realized that my gaze had been fixed on the signboard this whole time.
To be more precise, it was closer to being unable to look away from the signboard.
"That signboard."
"Yes? What is it, young hero Cheon? Is there something wrong with the signboard?"
"It contains sword intent."
That's right. That bold, unrestrained brushwork could only come from gripping the brush like a sword and swinging it.
Soft, appearing as if it could reach out in any direction, yet sharp enough that if you brought your hand near it, you'd feel as if you'd be cut.
While inner strength paired with outer gentleness is a common sight in Taoist martial arts, what emanates from this signboard carries a depth unlike any other.
Yes. If I had to put it into words, it comes closest to the gravity felt from a renowned supreme art.
A martial art that countless geniuses have devoted their entire lives to learning and developing over a long period of time. A crystallization of the values they all share.
There, in that signboard, was a history my martial art—one that could barely hold a single person like me—did not possess.
As I stopped in my tracks and blankly stared up at the signboard, Gwiyeong Sin-tu, who had at some point picked up a thick tree branch and was using it as a walking stick, let out a chuckle.
"You're completely bewitched."
"Hmm. I'm not sure I understand. Does Gwiyeong Sin-tu-nim see something?"
"Of course I do. Though perhaps not as much as your betrothed. You see, in matters like this, pure sword talent matters more than martial level or enlightenment."
"Sword talent…"
Tang So-wol's voice, muttering blankly, pulled me out of my thoughts, and I shrugged my shoulders.
"I'd rather you not stare at it so intently. If you keep that up, I might start thinking I'm a genius again."
"Ah, that would be a problem. Even just hearing about it, the young hero Cheon of that time was extraordinary."
When I brought up the embarrassing past I had mentioned before, Tang So-wol giggled and nodded her head.
After laughing for a good while, she asked in a low voice.
"So? What did the young hero Cheon see in that plaque?"
"Flow. And the mystery of Change was constantly surging within it. No, in this case, what matters isn't what mystery it holds."
Continuous and Uninterrupted. The very fact that it continues endlessly is what matters.
Softness, and the changes that branch out in hundreds of directions, are merely means to that end.
Whether it becomes a sword, the martial art itself, or something else entirely.
"The sword intent contained in the plaque is only a fragment of some sword method, so it may not be precise… but if someone were to execute it properly, I imagine countless techniques would connect freely."
Thinking back on it now, the swords of Taoist sects all seemed to share a similar feel.
Before the regression, during the time when the righteous sects, cornered, had joined forces to fight. Already more than half of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Families had been wiped out, but not all of their members had died.
The survivors joined the alliance, and thanks to that, I was able to observe their martial arts while fighting alongside them.
Though their swords were filled with killing intent born of vengeance for their lost sects… whether it was Wudang's Taiji or Huashan's Plum Blossom, the fact that all their techniques were organically connected was the same.
That techniques flow smoothly into one another is only natural, but what matters here is that every single technique is like that.
So that no matter which technique is executed in what order, its original power can be brought out in full.
Gwiyeong Sin-tu, having heard my story, let out a hearty laugh and nodded.
"Your guess is correct. If you sense a common thread in the Taoist sects' martial arts, it's because they all pursue the same Dao."
"The same Dao, you say? That's interesting, but I'm afraid I don't quite understand."
"To be honest, I don't fully understand it myself. I'm a thief, not a Taoist priest. However, from what a close friend told me long ago, most Taoist sects branched off from a single root: the Quanzhen Sect."
The Quanzhen Sect was the first group of Taoist priests to seek the Dao through martial arts. In the distant past, it became corrupted, split apart, and was ultimately destroyed in a Clan Extermination, but its teachings spread far and wide, giving rise to the Taoist sects of today.
"In that sense, this place, Mount Zhongnan, has a rather storied history. It's where Laozi, the founder of Taoism, spread his teachings during his lifetime, and it's also where the Quanzhen Sect was founded."
"Oh? Is it really that significant?"
"That plaque you were staring at so intently is also part of that long tradition."
It was a time when the Zhongnan Sect was not yet the renowned sect it is today. The Sect Leader of that era, seeking to find those of exceptional talent, had written the plaque, pouring a portion of his own enlightenment into the calligraphy.
It was said that the tradition existed to select as the next Sect Leader anyone who could read the sword intent from the calligraphy of the plaque.
However, it was a tradition that had disappeared once the Zhongnan Sect grew large enough to never lack disciples, and the internal affairs became too complicated to appoint a Sect Leader based purely on martial talent.
Even so, the reason they still hung that plaque was simple.
"It's confidence. The confidence that says the Zhongnan Sect is this great, and that it can show this much anytime."
"Thanks to that, I've gained something, so I'm grateful for it."
In my previous life, I hadn't been able to understand how those from the Nine Great Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Families could still long for and take pride in the past even after their clans had been exterminated. But these days, I think I understand a little.
Because of what I had seen in the Tang Clan so far, and because of what I could feel from the Zhongnan Sect's pride—even if it was still just a plaque for now.
As I nodded inwardly, Tang So-wol, who had been leading the way, tugged at my arm and urged me on.
"Young hero Cheon. Stop staring off into space and come on up. It will be our turn soon."
"I'm coming."
I let out a small laugh and followed Tang So-wol, pressing close to the front of the line that I had drifted away from.
After that, everything went smoothly.
We had gotten a bit scruffy, but proving that we were people of the Tang Clan was simple enough, and once we explained our situation, we were guided to the room where the Sect Leader was.
This was possible because Sichuan Province and Shaanxi Province were immediate neighbors, so exchanges between the Tang Clan and the Zhongnan Sect were frequent.
All that remained now was to give the Sect Leader of the Zhongnan Sect a detailed account and send a letter to the Tang Clan requesting aid.
It was for that reason that, while passing through the interior of the Zhongnan Sect, I met eyes with an old man.
A long white beard that reached down to his navel. Neatly pressed robes. A straight back. And an aura that was gentle yet impossible to ignore.
The old man's eyes widened—perhaps surprised that outsiders like us had managed to venture so deep into the Zhongnan Sect.
But it didn't take long for his face, which looked like it had been painted into a portrait of a Taoist master, to contort into a ferocious scowl.
"You brat! No matter how old I get, your shamelessness is still written all over your face!"
"Wh-what? What do you mean…"
Tang So-wol flinched in momentary confusion, but the old man's gaze wasn't directed at me, nor at Tang So-wol, nor even at the Vice-Captain of the Poison Blood Squad.
It was at Gwiyeong Sin-tu, who had been trying to subtly hide behind us.
The old man shouted, his face flushing red with rage.
"Disciples of Zhongnan, listen up! Catch that thief at once!"
"Ah."
Hearing that, I understood. This old man was someone who had lived in the same era as Gwiyeong Sin-tu, and he even remembered his face.
I had thought there was a chance we might get caught if we were unlucky, but I never expected to run into someone who would recognize him on sight.
While we, and the Zhongnan Sect martial artists who had received the order, all froze in momentary confusion.
As they exchanged glances, unsure of what to do, the old man from the Wind-Thread Bone Tower impatiently thumped his chest.
"Ah, this is driving me mad, you lot! Fine! I'll just go myself, so you can watch!"
And with that, he charged forward himself. He hadn't even seemed to take a few steps, yet the distance between us closed in an instant.
I had sensed it from the Aura he gave off, and sure enough, he was a formidable master.
He had probably reached the Transcendent Peak long ago, yet ultimately failed to break through the wall of the Harmony Realm.
"Live long and you'll see everything! I never thought I'd get a chance like this before I died!"
"What! Is that how you treat a friend you haven't seen in years?!"
"You haven't been a friend since that day!"
His movements were so explosive that it was hard to believe such power could come from that aged body. Gwiyeong Sin-tu tried to respond with his own mysterious footwork, but.
With the fatigue that had accumulated, and a body that was missing even one leg, he had his limits, and was quickly caught up to.
When the old man from the Wind-Thread Bone Tower reached for the sword at his waist, I was startled and grabbed my own sword hilt as well…
Instead of drawing the blade, he lifted the sword still in its sheath and swung it like a club, and my tension instantly eased.
"Come on, take a few hits from that sheath you love so much!"
"Agh! Are you really going to do this?! You want to torment a poor friend who doesn't even have a leg anymore?!"
"Who's your friend?! And where did you go and leave your other leg behind?!"
The old man from the Wind-Thread Bone Tower moved his hands without rest even as he worried. Gwiyeong Sin-tu swung the tree branch he had been using as a cane, but it was utterly useless.
The sheath seemed to trace a gentle curve, then bent at a sharp angle, dodging Gwiyeong Sin-tu's cane and repeatedly striking his body.
Fast, unpredictable, and flexible sword art. At a glance, Gwiyeong Sin-tu seemed to be floundering, completely caught up in that lofty martial art… but.
Having fought alongside him even once, I could tell. Gwiyeong Sin-tu was simply letting himself be hit.
Judging from the conversation just now, it seemed Gwiyeong Sin-tu had likely done something wrong to that old man in the past.
…Nine times out of ten, it had to do with theft, so he was reaping what he sowed, but I couldn't just stand by and watch.
After all, Gwiyeong Sin-tu was one of our party, and he was also the most important witness in explaining this whole matter.
So I politely offered a fist-and-palm salute to the old man, who had once been the Whirlwind Bone Sect member and was now busily beating Gwiyeong Sin-tu.
"Would it be alright if I said a word despite your busy schedule?"
"Hm? What are you kids again… Ah, children of the Tang Clan."
"My name is Cheon Hwi. I've recently become the betrothed of the Tang Clan."
"I am Tang So-wol."
Tang So-wol followed my lead in the fist-and-palm salute half a beat late, and a glint of interest flickered in the old man's eyes.
"To think that child has grown this much already. Time truly flies."
"You know me?"
"I once visited the Tang Clan on behalf of the Zhongnan Sect to celebrate the birth of the youngest daughter. I caught a brief glimpse of you back then."
"That's… no wonder I don't remember."
"Just take it as an old man's rambling from joy. Ah, I am Jeon Il-bi, Third Elder of the Zhongnan Sect."
"So you're the Third Elder."
"Heheh. What a poor showing for a first meeting. I suppose I got too excited meeting an unexpected connection."
Third Elder, who had been carrying on as if he had caught a day, let out an awkward laugh and hid his sword behind his back before turning back to face me.
"So, you were asking me to let this Gwiyeong Sin-tu go?"
"That's right. I can imagine there was a complicated story behind it, but for now, could you please release Elder Gwiyeong Sin-tu?"
"May I ask why?"
"We are currently on our way to see the Sect Leader. Elder Gwiyeong Sin-tu is an important person in explaining our situation. We will return him properly afterward, so please just bear with us for a moment."
"What? Even so, we've spent time together all this while—how can you be so cold-hearted!"
Gwiyeong Sin-tu cried out as if wronged, but no one in this place paid him any mind.
After pondering for a moment, Third Elder nodded his head.
"Fine. But this one might slip away without a trace again, so I'll go along too."
"If that's how it must be."
In the end, Third Elder returned his sword to his waist, let out a deep sigh, and instead of the broken branch from before, personally supported Gwiyeong Sin-tu as he spoke.
"For now, let's head back. We can sort out all the accumulated stories later."
"…Very well. I have plenty to say to you as well."
Watching the two of them walking side by side as if they had never been bickering at all, Tang So-wol whispered quietly.
"It's a relief that he only stole the sword sheath."
"Hmm. Indeed."
If he had stolen the Flowing Cloud Sword, he wouldn't have been hit a few times with the sheath—he would have been cut by the blade itself.