Chapter v17c11

The Contract

– Kill the Sword Saint!

“Kill the Sword Saint!”

The request was short and to the point. However, it was clear that there was no correlation between the length of a statement and the weight of its content.

The young man’s face, respectfully bowed as he listened, turned pale as a sheet, as if his life had been drained from him.

Even if one were to generously concede a hundred steps, or even a thousand or ten thousand steps – though reluctantly – it was understandable that such a rude outburst could come out of a human’s mouth, considering the nature of human speech and actions, which are entirely entrusted to the unreliable free will of individuals, often deemed highly untrustworthy regardless of time or place (although this was already a concession of ten thousand steps).

The brighter the light, the darker the shadow it casts. With a heart devoid of emotion, one could understand that the Three Saints of Cheonmu, with their immense fame, would also have many who hated them (though still reluctantly). Such a reputation would naturally require a corresponding price or sacrifice. Of course, those who suffered would insist they were innocent victims, but they too likely built their own fame upon the sacrifices of others. In any era, perpetrators rarely understand the feelings of victims until they become victims themselves.

In any case, a horrifying request like the assassination of the Sword Saint was something that would come from the depths of darkness, where evil spirits and sinister demonic energy lurked, not in the bright afternoon sun, with a gentle breeze and fresh greenery, especially not in the heart of Cheonmu Academy, the center of righteous cultivation. Moreover, there was an even bigger problem: whether by coincidence or by the design of fate, the person being asked to carry out this assassination bore the surname Mo Yong and the given name Hwi. The other party clearly had little regard for human ethics.

While it was fine to have thoughts and even express them verbally, considering the circumstances and common sense, this was not something one would ask of their own grandson. No matter who the other party was, even with a thousand or ten thousand steps of concession, this was one point that could not be conceded. However, what the other party desired was complete obedience and submission, not understanding.

‘How did things turn out like this? Where did it all go wrong?’

His world was swaying like waves. If he let his guard down even slightly, he felt like he would be swept away into the dark abyss below.

He felt dizzy.

Although he was still confused and nauseous, he couldn’t afford to crumble. Before calming his mind, he regulated his breathing to calm his body. His racing pulse, the lingering tremors in his limbs, and the cold sweat beading on his forehead were all manifestations of his mental turmoil. He slowly and deeply inhaled and exhaled, controlling these physical reactions. As his breathing stabilized, the tremors subsided, the sweat on his forehead dried, and his heartbeat regained its rhythm. Then, ever so slightly, the waves of confusion in his mind began to calm.

Only then could Mo Yong-Hwi recall the conversation he had just had, carefully retracing it step by step.

“Are you prepared?”

“Of course!”

Mo Yong-Hwi answered Elder Hyeok’s question energetically, without a moment’s hesitation. The old man nodded.

“You’re certainly confident in your words. I hope your actions are as confident as your words.”

Anyone can talk, but to translate those words into action requires a corresponding will and determination.

“I will do anything. I will never give up.”

The model young man answered once more. Again, there was no hesitation.

“Really? Can you truly do that? Can you move forward without faltering, no matter the hardship or trial? Are you truly prepared to obey any order I give? Without any doubt? Any order?”

The old man asked again, his voice laced with suspicion.

“Yes, if you tell me to die, I will die, and if you tell me to live, I will live. I will endure any hardship to become stronger.”

He had never yearned for strength as desperately as he did now. His will was burning like wildfire. At his resolute answer, the old man withdrew his oppressive aura and burst into hearty laughter.

“Haha, I would never tell you to die! If the one who needs to become stronger dies, who am I supposed to teach? But… since you answered so resolutely, I hope you’ll show me a matching determination.”

Words cannot be seen. Only actions can be seen.

“I won’t tell you to die. It’s actually much easier than that. It’s a trivial matter, but if you don’t even have that much determination, it’s better not to even try.”

“Please give me your command. I will not disappoint you.”

The flames of determination flickered in Mo Yong-Hwi’s eyes.

“You’re still unwavering. But your words are reassuring. Good, good! You don’t have to be so tense. Am I going to eat you alive? You only have to do one thing.”

“What should I do?”

The old man’s words were brief. In that instant, fear descended, dancing to the melody of despair.

– Kill the Sword Saint!

Mo Yong-Hwi was so overwhelmed by the old man’s imposing aura, as heavy as a mountain, that he couldn’t even utter a simple question. Though he wasn’t mute, his tongue and mouth felt paralyzed, and the words he wanted to say trembled in his chest, unable to escape.

– Kill… Kill… Kill…

Who? The Sword Saint? Who? His grandfather? Who? His idol? Who? His god…?

A question thrown at him without context. Was there some magical power in the old man’s sudden, shocking, thrilling, and terrifying words? As if caught in a spell, Mo Yong-Hwi couldn’t move a muscle, his mind and body bound.

The old man’s words touched upon the greatest taboo in Mo Yong-Hwi’s existence. Was this the path he was meant to take? Was he standing on the path of a demon?

He realized, with a cold sweat running down his spine, tremors shaking his limbs, and his heart pounding like a drum, how difficult a path he had embarked on.

And that there was no turning back.

‘If only it were a joke…’

But it was definitely not a joke. The old man was undoubtedly demanding the Sword Saint’s death. His eyes and tone were serious. He was forcing Mo Yong-Hwi to kill the Sword Saint, one way or another.

Mo Yong-Hwi felt the passion burning within him cool down, and the tower of will he had believed to be so strong crumble like a sandcastle. He cursed his own mouth for so easily uttering words of oath.

– You’re still unwavering!

The echo of his past words rang in his ears like thunder.

He couldn’t help but hesitate, burdened with the greatest dilemma of his life.

He resented his own mouth for speaking so carelessly.

– I am prepared! I will do anything!

He shouldn’t have uttered words he couldn’t keep. The words he had already spoken were now binding him. He wanted to take them back, but his mouth wouldn’t open, as if glued shut.

“I’ll leave the method up to you!”

After glancing at the confused young man, the old man quietly left the room. The door closed.

Bang!

Mo Yong-Hwi, in a daze, watched the old man disappear as if hypnotized, completely caught off guard. The sound of the only exit closing came from afar, as if to say there was no escape.

“Tsk, tsk, old man, aren’t you being too mischievous for your age? Do you really think that goody-two-shoes young master can pull it off?”

Elder Hyeok’s footsteps, as he was leaving the room, leaving the completely lost Mo Yong-Hwi behind, came to a halt.

“Ah, it’s you.”

The old man’s gaze fell upon the self-proclaimed enigmatic genius pretty boy, Bi Ryu-Yeon, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a mischievous smile on his face. The self-proclaimed most handsome boy in the universe asked,

“That Sword Saint you just told him to kill, isn’t he that kid’s grandfather?”

“Is there another Sword Saint in the martial world besides him? This is news to me.”

“Hmm, a confirmed criminal, then. I thought it might be someone else.”

“Am I crazy? Would I tell that child to kill someone other than the Sword Saint he knows? What would be the point?”

Huh? So he wasn’t crazy? Anyone in the martial world who heard their conversation would ask that question. Of course, this was a feat only allowed for those who didn’t value their lives or wielded the blade of ignorance.

“Well, that’s true. It’s meaningless unless it’s the Sword Saint, right?”

Bi Ryu-Yeon nodded in understanding, far from criticizing the old man’s ruthlessness. A slightly surprised expression appeared on Elder Hyeok’s face.

“You’re quick to understand.”

He was definitely an intriguing individual.

“Well, I am a genius.”

Except for that part.

“Hmm, is that so?”

This time, it was Elder Hyeok’s turn to look surprised.

“I’ve been observing closely while staying here, but it seems like others don’t acknowledge it.”

Bi Ryu-Yeon scoffed, as if he had never heard such a foolish question.

“Tsk, tsk, if you’re recognized by those ignorant fools, are you really a genius? You’re just a talented person or a fraud. Does it even make sense to use the standards of ordinary people to measure a genius? Don’t say such absurd things elsewhere. People will think you’ve gone senile.”

Bi Ryu-Yeon said matter-of-factly. He clearly believed it without a shred of doubt.

“That’s a very extreme opinion.”

It wasn’t easy to be so shameless at such a young age. But there was a strange persuasiveness to his seemingly radical and ignorant opinion.

“…But it makes sense when you think about it.”

The old man replied reluctantly.

“It’s not just that it makes sense, it’s the truth. The masses and rulers have always disliked geniuses. They only like the corpses of geniuses and saints. Ones they can manipulate and package to their liking.”

It was an eternal truth. The corpses of saints had always filled the bellies of rulers and various religious organizations. The saying “Dead men tell no tales” wasn’t only applicable to silencing witnesses. If the deceased saints knew that crows were feasting on their corpses, they would probably rise from their graves.

The old man agreed on that point. And he didn’t want to argue about whether Bi Ryu-Yeon was a genius or not, as it was a pointless debate. He decided to change the subject.

“Do you think I’m being too harsh? Will you accuse me of being cruel? But the path that child must take is a path of hardship that cannot be overcome without such determination. He must be prepared to abandon everything he has.”

“No, I think it was an appropriate measure. It’s what he needs most right now. It’s not an obstacle he can bypass, is it?”

For a moment, the old man looked at Bi Ryu-Yeon with the same feeling Bo Ya must have felt when he met Zhong Ziqi, who understood his music.

“You might truly be a genius.”

Elder Hyeok said in admiration.

“It’s not ‘might be,’ it’s ‘is.’ Believe me. Haven’t you heard the saying ‘Blessed are those who believe’?”

“I haven’t. Where did you hear that?”

Elder Hyeok firmly denied it and asked back.

“Well, I heard it from a grumpy old man a long time ago. Let’s just say the source is unknown.”

This time, Bi Ryu-Yeon changed the subject.

“But can he really do it? It’s the greatest taboo for him, a sacred ground and forbidden zone he shouldn’t violate. Can he truly deny the world he stands on?”

Killing the Sword Saint was the same as denying Mo Yong-Hwi himself. They both knew that. Or rather, was it because they knew?

“That’s why I’m giving him a push. He has to trample that sacred ground with muddy feet and break through the barrier of the forbidden zone. That’s where he needs to go.”

“What if he fails? Will you give up on him?”

The probability of failure was higher than success at this point. But he didn’t want to say the word “give up” so easily.

“How about a bet?”

The old man suggested with a sly smile, curling one corner of his lips. It was a refreshing experience to talk to someone on the same level in this stifling world.

“A bet… That’s a sudden proposal. And it sounds quite immoral and unjust.”

“Why, not interested?”

Bi Ryu-Yeon quickly waved his hand and said,

“No, I’m interested. Who do you think I am? It’s intriguing.”

It was definitely tempting.

These two might think human life was as insignificant as a fly’s. They were scary individuals. Was the life or death of the Sword Saint, one of the Three Saints of Cheonmu and a prominent figure in the martial world, nothing more than a bet to them? If so, these two, young and old, were clearly mentally unstable. Such reckless thinking would be impossible with a properly functioning nervous system.

Mo Yong-Hwi, agonizing and struggling in that room, would be better off meeting a decent person instead of these delinquents. It would be much better for his youthful future and a smooth, ordinary, and boring life.

“Well, what should we do?”

Bi Ryu-Yeon also smiled. Elder Hyeok said impatiently,

“Don’t beat around the bush and make up your mind. Do you think he can do it, or not? Let’s make a bet. Whether your prediction is right or wrong. It’s a contest. Who between you and me has a broader, deeper, and more accurate perspective, who can more accurately await the present from the future. There’s a saying, ‘To count forward is to follow the flow, to know what’s coming is to understand change.'”

The old man’s last words, spoken casually, triggered a buried memory in Bi Ryu-Yeon.

“Heaven and earth are in their proper places, mountains and marshes exchange energy, thunder and wind clash, water and fire do not oppose each other, the eight trigrams interlock, to count forward is to follow the flow, to know what’s coming is to understand change. Therefore, change is the reverse of counting!”

The words of a classic text flowed unconsciously from Bi Ryu-Yeon’s mouth. It was almost a reflex.