Chapter 42: Is This Gangho?

The Jusampa forces and Yong Sohwu entered Euidam and Yeogang, passing through Sangyo. Deungyonggok still harbored not a single doubt.

If the Hyeongsanpa had been in Fujian or Anhui, even Deungbonggok, as sharp as he was, would have suspected something.

After all, if they departed from Fujian or Anhui, they would have inevitably encountered Jusampa or Euidam along the way.

However, the Hyeongsanpa was located in Honam, which was the exact opposite direction from Jeolgang, where Jusampa was. If you used Namchang, home of the Hwanggeum Family, as a reference point, Honam lay to the southwest, while Jeolgang was to the northeast.

Yong Sohwu truly believed Cheonmun was supporting him.

Jusampa was a mighty Heukdo faction that had even crushed Botaam. On the other hand, the Hwanggeum Family had, at best, a few dozen Bodyguards, and a few dozen escorts from the Hwanggeum Escort Agency. That was all.

Still, Yong Sohwu considered the possibility that they might hit a snag somewhere along the way. But he thought that would be just as well. If so, the eyes of the Gupa would turn to Jusampa. When that happened, the Hyeongsanpa could simply swoop in. That was what you called the Flower Play Faction’s move.

Just then, Deung Yonggeuk approached Yong Sohwu and spoke.

“To think that something we’ve built up over years is being settled by force like this. It’s a bit of a letdown, isn’t it?”

“It’s thanks to the Young Master for giving us justification. Even Cheonjuseong, who used to act so haughty, turned his back on us, and the Hyeongsanpa dared to intervene. Isn’t all this just Japa?”

“Haha. Then the Young Master is our Hongbok, isn’t he?”

Deung Yonggeuk looked up at the sky and burst into laughter. Yong Sohwu sneered at the sight. There was always a reason why these people belonged to the Sapa. Fools like these were never suited for the honorable Jeongpa.

Yong Sohwu smiled quietly, not betraying his true thoughts.

“No matter how tangled the knot, a single blade can cut through it all. Isn’t that the real charm of Gangho?”

Deung Yonggeuk nodded. By tomorrow, he would be in Namchang, ready to seize the Hwanggeum Family for himself. Frankly, it felt almost anticlimactic.

As Yong Sohwu said, cutting through everything with the sword was actually easier. Jusampa had grown too large and had started acting too cautiously, but in the end, they were Heukdo by nature. This was how they were supposed to be.

There was no need for much brawling at the Hwanggeum Family either. Deung Yonggeuk was an expert at raiding Sangga.

All you had to do was execute a few Chonggwan and hang their heads on the Jeongak. The rest would fall in line on their own. Deung Yonggeuk felt a familiar thrill from his old days and chuckled.

“Tomorrow will be a real pleasure. I guarantee it.”

Just thinking about showing some Jeongpa whelp who knew nothing about Sanggye how the Heukdo handled things made him feel gleeful.

***

A sense of ease pervaded among the Murim Alliance warriors manning the southeastern wall of the Hwanggeum Family compound. At a glance, one might even mistake it for the rearmost position.

Unless Jusampa planned to cross the water from Pyang all the way to Namchang, it was obvious they would take the Gwan-do through Yeogang. And once they entered Namchang via that route, they would come face-to-face with the Hwanggeum Family’s southeastern wall.

This was, without a doubt, the true front line. Yet the source of their confidence was clear.

First, these were seasoned veterans recognized as the elite even among the Cheongmu Unit—they did not fear battle.

Second, the defensive strategy was so well-crafted and meticulous that anyone would nod in admiration.

The Cheongmu Unit warriors, in particular, were impressed by the intricacy of the defensive plan. They had fought many battles and had some insight into the rationality and completeness of military tactics.

“The defensive formation wasn’t set up by the Commander, was it?”

“No way. The Commander never plans things this precisely.”

“That’s true. And this isn’t the kind of formation a typical martial artist would use, either.”

Everyone in the Cheongmu Unit agreed with that last statement. Martial artists’ formations, except for rare cases like the Nahanjin with its one hundred eight members, usually consisted of smaller units—formations like the Samjaejin or the Ohenggeomjin, with a handful of warriors forming a Hapgyeokjin at best.

What made this particular formation remarkable was that it combined several Hapgyeokjin into a larger, more flexible formation that could easily adapt to different situations.

“Isn’t this Gunmun’s strategy?”

“I think I read about it in an old book. At first, the formation’s like a basin, and once the battle begins, the center falls back, luring the enemy in, and then the flanks and center rush in at once. That was the tactic, right?”

“To think that Gunmun’s tactics could be used among martial artists!”

“It’s so difficult to pull off, it was considered obsolete.”

There was a reason Gunmun’s tactics had been discarded in martial circles. Soldiers in Gunmun’s armies had similar individual skills and could maintain tight formations, but martial artists, with their varied abilities, inner energy, and footwork, would inevitably disrupt such precise formations.

Yet whoever designed this formation had balanced the strengths and weaknesses perfectly, adapting the Gunmun strategy to martial artists. Each member’s spacing was precisely adjusted to their individual skills.

“Whoever knows Gunmun’s formations this well must be quite the veteran.”

“That’s right. It’s been, what, fifty years since anyone saw Gunmun’s formations in the Central Plains?”

“He must be at least eighty, then.”

No one knew who had designed this formation. The Cheongmu Captain just gave the orders, and they obeyed. It didn’t seem like anyone from the Hwanggeum Family was actually giving commands, yet everything was running like clockwork.

But every soldier knew this: for such a flawless movement of forces, there must be someone with a grand vision behind it—a strategist, a monster who had painted big pictures before.

Most assumed it was someone from the Hwanggeum Family, or perhaps the Cheongmu Captain from the Murim Alliance. But those in the Cheongmu Unit knew it wasn’t one of theirs.

“Just making this formation would take almost three nights without sleep, wouldn’t it?”

“And this person has arranged formations like this around the whole Family estate. There’s definitely an old master inside.”

“Could it be Shinsan who came here in secret?”

One of the Cheongmu Unit members posed the question. Shinsan referred to Jegalheon, who was currently serving as the Murim Alliance’s chief strategist.

“No, he’s gone to Unnam on the Maengju’s orders.”

“I see.”

As they talked, they looked over the ridge. People in ragged clothes were using branches and stakes as footholds, leaping over the wall toward them.

“Let’s get ready.”

The calm voice of a Cheongmu Unit member echoed out just as the distance between the Jusampa martial artists at the front and the Cheongmu Unit warriors shrank to barely five chi. No one had drawn their swords yet.

When they closed to within three chi, their hands reached for their sword hilts; only when they were one chi apart did they finally draw their blades.

There should have been a burst of sparks and the clang of steel as swords met—at least, that’s what the Jusampa warriors expected.

But the Cheongmu Unit warriors vaulted off the top of the wall, scattering to the left and right.

They had only one order from above.

Hold out until reinforcements arrive.

“…Wh-What the?!”

A Jusampa warrior sliced through empty air, dazed.

And so the battle began.

***

A series of explosions rang out from the southeast. Roof tiles and sword energies clashed, shaking the air. The war had begun.

I was watching from a thicket atop a high place near the Jingjeongwon. From an overall perspective, all the defensive lines were holding firm.

I glanced over my shoulder. Behind me stood five men, the Samdae Jeja of Hyeongsan.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m nervous.”

It was understandable. The elders here were, after all, first-class or even peak-level masters. The defectors from the Hyeongsanpa were the same. Of course, they might have lost a bit of their power with age, but just facing such experts was a heavy burden for the Samdae Jeja.

The only weapons they had were those they’d crafted themselves at twelve years old, and their relentless training in the Pa Hyeong Sword Technique. Gwak Jindo must have overseen their martial arts with tremendous diligence.

After all, there was no particular enlightenment to be found in the Pa Hyeong Sword Technique; as long as you learned the forms, that was enough. It was a simple art, designed to sever the flow by following the subtlety of Hyeongsan’s teachings.

The eldest-looking among the Hyeongsanpa’s Samdae Jeja finally spoke.

“It’s probably too late to say this now, but thank you. Truly.”

“I only spared your lives because there was no reason to kill you. We have no grudges, do we?”

I think his name was Gu Joheum. Even after I spoke, he shook his head.

“Yet the people out there are killing each other without any grudge at all.”

Gu Joheum gazed toward the southeast. Strangers with no connection or interest in one another were clashing blades.

“That’s Gangho.”

“Yes. It is.”

“And the reason you just gave, Young Master, comes from Ui Hyup, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?”

I smiled faintly. Lately, I found myself smiling more. Maybe it was because, in my past life, all I heard were curses; in this life, it seemed I only heard kind words.

“So Ui Hyup and Gangho stand on opposing sides, then?”

“…I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s a joke. I hardly know Gangho well enough to say such things.”

This was only my second life, but my experience in Gangho was negligible. I didn’t really understand what people meant by the rules or unwritten codes of Gangho—those things never appeared in books.

“What do you think about what we’re doing right now? How would Gangho see it?”

“…They’d say it was the way of the Sapa, mostly.”

I see.

“But still—”

Gu Joheum’s eyes blazed.

“When it comes to staking your life on the line, fighting at the edge of a precipice, who can speak of morality or rules?”

I liked the look in Gu Joheum’s eyes as he spoke. Ironically, even though the Hyeongsanpa had raised them for years, in a single moment they had become sworn enemies. If any of them were to meet an acquaintance from Hyeongsan, they would prepare for a fight to the death, no words exchanged.

Only then did I begin to grasp what people meant when they spoke of Gangho.

“So that’s Gangho.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

As we finished our conversation, figures in pale clothing and masks emerged quietly from the side gate of Jingjeongwon.

I figured it could only be one of two things. Either the elders and defectors from Hyeongsan inside Jingjeongwon were going to join Jusampa’s assault, or they would act like they knew nothing.

We were here to see which choice they would make.

And now, we saw it. Their decision was made.

Just then, the elders of Hyeongsan abruptly stopped and looked toward the thicket. Judging by sheer martial ability alone, it was obvious the elders were stronger than the Samdae Jeja. It was inevitable they would notice us.

“Go get them.”

At my words, the five figures behind me leapt forward in a graceful arc.

The Samdae Jeja of Hyeongsan wanted to finish this with their own hands. It seemed they had decided among themselves.

“What’s this?! You brats!”

The emerging elders drew their swords, flustered. Three elders. There was a loud clash as blades met.

Sword qi swirled around the three elders’ swords. The Samdae Jeja’s hands shook more with each clash.

Only after the first exchange did the Hyeongsanpa defectors realize who their assailants were. Though their faces were covered, their eyes betrayed their agitation.

“Aren’t you… Joheum? The eldest son was supposed to be dead…”

“No. I’m alive.”

Gu Joheum spoke for the group. The elders stared at the Samdae Jeja as if seeing ghosts.

“In fact, it was the eldest son who tried to kill us.”

At those words, the elders paused, as if unable to comprehend.

After a moment, one elder spoke.

“I don’t know the whole story, but so that’s how it was.”

Then the rightmost elder added, “Still, since you’ve drawn your swords against us, I suppose we needn’t know any more.”

The three elders exchanged glances and subtly adjusted their spacing.

As they settled into their stances, the elders grinned.

“But aren’t you being a bit reckless? I don’t know what grudge you have against Hyeongsan, but for five Samdae Jeja to try and take on the three of us… You’re only second-rate at best; we’re at the peak. Didn’t you learn about that difference on the mountain?”

“We’ve put everything we learned from Hyeongsan behind us and are learning something new.”

Gu Joheum bared his teeth in a grin. These people were elders here at the Hwanggeum Family, but in Hyeongsanpa, they were the failed, middle-aged losers who had dropped out halfway to the peak. There was nothing to fear.

“Whether you’re a master of Samhwa Chujeong or Ogijo-won, a sword through the heart kills you all the same.”

At those words, the three masked figures surged forward. As if that was the signal, they clashed.

The elders unleashed Hyeongsan’s famous sword techniques. They looked a little different, but it was clear that the subtlety of Guhyang Geombeop and the Wolseong Sword Technique were present.

Blades flashed, positions swapped in the blink of an eye. The Samdae Jeja avoided meeting sword qi directly, instead deflecting and enduring as much as possible, even counterattacking at times.

Using their numbers, they sometimes teamed up two against one, or suddenly switched targets, attacking with all five at once.

Their tactics were excellent, but what most unsettled the elders was the unfamiliar Pa Hyeong Sword Technique.

“…What is this crude sword art?!”

Unable to land a blow, one elder shouted in frustration. Their swords were blocked or deflected almost every time. Sword qi struck the ground, throwing up dust and chopping off wild branches.

Little by little, the Samdae Jeja pressed the elders back. The elders retreated step by step.

It was like sparring with the true masters back at the mountain. Only a real expert could so thoroughly break down their techniques.

“Your swordsmanship is pitiful.”

“What?!”

Gu Joheum spoke to the elders. The other Samdae Jeja seemed to agree, looking confident. It was a more dominant fight than I expected.

“I never thought it would be this easy. The forms of Guhyang Geombeop and Wolseong Sword Technique have gotten sloppy. Even if you used more advanced martial arts, what difference would it make?”

Gu Joheum continued. I understood now. What looked like Guhyang Geombeop and Wolseong Sword Technique really were those very arts—just badly imitated compared to what I had seen.

It proved the elders had been neglectful in their training. The Samdae Jeja had prepared to perfectly break Guhyang Geombeop and Wolseong Sword Technique, and what they encountered was even worse, so it was easy for them.

Their so-called “peak” level meant nothing in the face of someone who could break down their every form with perfection.

By common sense in Gangho, five second-rate warriors beating three peak-level experts was basically impossible.

But the peak-level elders had grown lazy for years, dulling their skills; the Samdae Jeja’s teamwork was flawless; and the Pa Hyeong Sword Technique was simply too perfect. One by one, those impossibilities crumbled.

Soon, as black garments tore, blood spurted from the shoulder of one elder.

“Argh!”

Once one fell behind, the collapse was instant. Soon, the elder with a wounded arm lost his head to Gu Joheum’s sword. If the other two had helped, they might have survived the strike, but by then, both were already scrambling to save their own lives.

As the elders suddenly split left and right, so did the five disciples. But since this wasn’t what they had anticipated, it turned into four against one, and one alone.

The group of four threw a sword into the fleeing elder’s back, wounding him and closing the distance.

The last one, though not yet cornered, was, by chance, heading my way.

Bang!

My sword shot straight forward with a roar—the first form of Pashang Strikes the Star. The elder knew Hyeongsan’s disciples were hiding, but he hadn’t known about me.

With a tremendous boom, the head of the fleeing elder tumbled down.

Gu Joheum, who had been chasing, gaped at my sword strike.

Moments later, I heard another dying scream in the distance. It seemed things had ended there as well.

I looked at Gu Joheum and asked,

“Is this Gangho?”

Gu Joheum slowly approached me. The sound of his footsteps squelching in blood was unfamiliar.

When he stood before me, he bent deeply at the waist.

“You are absolutely correct.”