Ghost Play
At dawn, a crimson moon hung in the heavens.
The Taoists gathered in the Grand Hall of Sangcheong Palace were all heavy-hearted. It was because of the tragic news that had flown in from Udun-ri.
Two hundred and fifty disciples of Cheongho Dojang had perished. The families of the secular disciples were also missing.
Elder Cheonghyeon, the oldest among them, opened his eyes after long silence and spoke.
"Cheonma Sword. That little devil outwitted us completely. He blustered as if he'd storm our headquarters any moment, and yet he resorts to such a petty trick."
His voice trembled with indignation.
Cheongu Yulsa, the most prudent of the Cheongseong Sect, answered with a cold tone.
"That is true, but we were also complacent, relying too much on Wugun-sa's intelligence that the demon cultists' numbers were not great. We miscalculated, assuming Cheonma Sword would retreat."
All nodded at Cheongu Yulsa's self-reproach. He steadied his breath and continued.
"The demon cult numbers barely a hundred. Yet their strength is absurdly high. If we continue scattering disciples across different places, the risk of them being destroyed piecemeal is immense."
As he said, by daylight the events at Udun-ri would spread to the surrounding five villages. The secular disciples there would undoubtedly request more reinforcements to protect themselves.
Na Hanmin, the successor disciple known as the Divine Sword Dragon, rubbed the back of his neck and spoke.
"If we send disciples to five more places, how many will that take? Considering their strength, at least a hundred men each. But then the defense of our vast headquarters will be full of holes."
Cheongu Yulsa replied,
"True. Yet if we abandon the secular disciples, our reputation and honor will collapse. People will point fingers, saying we can't even protect those near us."
A middle-aged Taoist beside Na Hanmin sighed and interjected.
"A dilemma indeed."
Everyone nodded. At last, all eyes turned to Sect Leader Jang Un, the Clear-Cutting Sword.
With his palm pressed to his forehead, he spoke.
"Cheonma Sword is forcing us to choose. Will we protect the secular disciples and expose our headquarters to danger? Or abandon them for the sake of the headquarters' safety?"
Just then, Taoist Cheongnyang, lord of Bokgeon Palace, returned from investigating Cheongho Dojang and entered the hall.
"Sect Leader, grant me three hundred disciples. I will pursue Cheonma Sword and bring back his head."
Jang Un suppressed a bitter laugh at the sudden demand.
"Palace Lord, from your message from Udun-ri I gathered the situation. You said Cheonma Sword's underlings scattered in all directions—can you truly pursue them?"
"Even so, they'll be hiding like rats near the headquarters. I will find them. Those demonic bastards desecrated the corpses of our disciples who had already fallen. Can we bear this any longer?"
All faces turned to astonishment.
Sect Leader Jang Un asked gravely,
"What do you mean, desecrated?"
"They defiled the corpses of nearly thirty disciples. They stripped them and carved letters with blades into their bellies."
"What…!"
Jang Un let out an unconscious sigh. All others widened their eyes in disbelief.
Elder Cheonghyeon's face twisted in rage as he demanded,
"What did they write?"
Palace Lord Cheongnyang bit his lip before replying.
"They wrote as if speaking on behalf of our disciples.
'It was not Cheonma Sword who killed us, but Sect Leader of Cheongseong. Cheonma Sword warned, but the Sect Leader ignored it, treating it lightly, and thus this tragedy occurred. Even as ghosts, we will curse and resent the Sect Leader who drove us to death.'"
"...!"
"And Cheonma Sword also left words on the outer wall of Cheongho Dojang—that soon the second massacre of Cheongseong would come. He blamed it all on Sect Leader Jang Un's refusal of a duel and his ignoring of warnings."
Shock and outrage swept through the hall. None could even open their mouths, stunned beyond belief.
Palace Lord Cheongnyang ground his teeth.
"Many in Udun-ri saw this. Rumor will spread badly. We must capture Cheonma Sword before then and comfort the spirits of the dead."
Na Hanmin shook his head firmly.
"Forming a pursuit squad is folly. Cheonma Sword clearly intends to break us apart. He is forcing us to divide our strength—sending disciples to the five villages, and now driving us to split further in pursuit."
Cheongnyang frowned. His desire to form a pursuit party was intense, but Na Hanmin's reasoning was sound.
Na Hanmin looked around the hall and declared,
"In truth, his real target may be our headquarters."
Silence, as heavy as death, fell over the hall.
Cheonma Sword had claimed this before, but none had believed. Now, for the first time, someone voiced the possibility.
Cheongu Yulsa suggested a new plan.
"Then why not summon all the secular disciples back to headquarters? That way, we can still form a pursuit force without much issue."
The Sect Leader shook his head.
"Didn't you hear? They burned the empty halls and dojangs in Udun-ri. If the secular disciples leave, their homes and temples will be turned to ashes. They won't abandon them."
Cheongu Yulsa gasped and nodded.
"So that's it… He even burned them for this very reason. What a terrifying foe."
The meeting dragged on through the dawn without conclusion.
The enemy was small in number but immensely strong, and hidden. They themselves were many, yet exposed. There is nothing harder than fighting an unseen foe.
And so, they could do nothing but dance to Cheonma Sword's tune.
The tedious meeting continued until Wugun-sa Bingbong arrived in the afternoon.
The sun hastened westward across the sky.
On the mountain road past Cheongseong Gate, heading toward Bokgeon Palace, Peng Ujong asked Murong Lin,
"We've ridden without pause for nine hours. Are you not weary?"
It had been a forced march. The night before, Murong Lin had prepared spare horses and set out. Riding at night was dangerous, but she drove her horses madly. She had nearly halved the usual travel time to Cheongseong Mountain.
Peng Ujong now looked at her with new eyes. He had already felt it when she insisted on leaving immediately the previous evening—but truly, she was a woman of remarkable drive.
Murong Lin shook her head with a hard face and replied as she halted,
"Weary? Not at all. My teeth are clenched too tightly for sleep."
Her gaze turned to the line of people climbing the mountain path.
They were carrying the corpses of the two hundred and fifty martial men slain the night before, transporting them to Wolseong Lake on the mountainside. There, an altar would be erected, and the bodies cremated, to console their spirits.
From the corpses, where the wounds were so deep that decomposition had already set in, came an unbearable stench. Yet none of them grimaced. No—in fact, that very stench only stoked the fury of the Cheongseong Sect disciples.
Guiding Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jang from the mountain gate and recounting the events of the previous day, the Cheongseong sect leader ground his teeth.
"We will have our vengeance. Cheonma Sword. We will kill him and tear him apart."
It was not the kind of words one expected from a Taoist's lips. Yet Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jang silently nodded. They understood how deep the Cheongseong Sect's hatred ran.
Murong Lin stared blankly at the transported corpses for a moment, then pressed forward again.
The enemy had even used the dead, mocking them by claiming they cursed the Cheongseong Sect.
Cheonma Sword.
Was he trying to make even ghosts his allies?
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Murong Lin's lips. She had begun to grasp Cheonma Sword's true intent.
Murong Lin's party arrived at Bokgeon Palace, where they were received by the Palace Lord, before ascending to Sangcheong Palace where the Sect Leader resided.
Given the grave circumstances, formal greetings were brief, and the meeting resumed. Yet at length, Sect Leader Jang Un stretched and gave a wry smile.
"This is going nowhere. Like a squirrel spinning a wheel—there's no answer at all."
Palace Lord Cheongnyang, who had just returned from bringing Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jang, spoke up.
"I understand that forming a pursuit squad is risky. But to deal with an enemy in hiding, we have no choice. We must comb the surroundings thoroughly."
Na Hanmin sighed and shook his head.
"That again? That is exactly what Cheonma Sword wants us to do."
"Or perhaps Cheonma Sword is waiting for us to cower in endless meetings. He said he would soon strike again. For all we know, another village might be attacked tonight!"
Elder Cheonghyeon clicked his tongue in frustration.
"How shameful… how did Cheongseong come to be toyed with by a mere hundred demon cultists?"
Shaking his head, his eyes fell on Murong Lin.
Her expression was cold, and a faint, enigmatic smile lingered at her lips.
Sect Leader Jang Un noticed this as well and spoke.
"Military Advisor Bingbong, you've heard our discussions. Speak your mind freely."
Feeling their gazes, Murong Lin slowly rose from her seat.
"First, let me once more express my deepest condolences for the tragedy at Udun-ri."
She had already said these words in her greetings, but the look of genuine sorrow on her face made the Taoists of Cheongseong nod.
"From the moment we entered the mountain gate, the sect leader spoke at length, and I've heard the same here."
Her words signaled a transition to the heart of the matter. All ears perked up. She was only twenty-seven, yet recognized by the world as a prodigy.
"Listening to all this, I realized one thing."
Na Hanmin asked,
"And what is that?"
"That though the demon cult is only a hundred strong, they have the entire Cheongseong Sect in their grasp. Honor, justification, and practical advantage—Cheonma Sword holds them all."
Na Hanmin frowned.
"That's only because he's in hiding. If we knew where he was, we could strike at once—"
Murong Lin raised a hand, cutting him off.
"The important thing is that Cheonma Sword holds the initiative. Then, we must take it back—from him, along with honor, justification, and advantage."
A spark lit in the Taoists' eyes. It seemed Military Advisor Bingbong had a stratagem in mind.
Sect Leader Jang Un asked,
"And how would you seize the initiative from an unseen foe?"
Murong Lin gave a faint smile. Cold words flowed over that smile.
"The best way to draw out those who hide is to force them to reveal themselves. Or, failing that, to make them flee with their tails tucked."
The hall grew so quiet one could hear a pin drop. All eyes fixed on Murong Lin.
"We will exploit Cheonma Sword's weakness—using the very method he employed against you."
Jang Un leaned forward, fingers interlocked.
"His weakness? And what method do you mean?"
Murong Lin brushed her bangs back with a pale hand and spoke.
"Until yesterday, I thought Cheonma Sword was merely a formidable master of the demon sect. But on the way here, I realized he is quite unique."
"In what way?"
Jang Un asked, and Murong Lin grinned.
"Though he is a demon sect master, he values justification, like the orthodox schools. He sent a duel letter. He left words at Cheongho Dojang, claiming responsibility lay with the Sect Leader, not himself."
"Hmm… indeed. He differs from the demon cultists we know. Perhaps that is why he is so troublesome."
Jang Un's words drew nods and murmurs of agreement. Elder Cheonghyeon interjected,
"Military Advisor, I assume you are not here to assess his character. What is your conclusion?"
"Yes. As I said, we will use his own methods against him. We will send him a duel letter."
"...!"
"Of course, we do not know his whereabouts, so we cannot deliver it directly. But he is somewhere near Cheongseong Mountain. So, like he did, we will post notices in the surrounding villages."
Elder Cheonghyeon leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"You mean to invite him? But surely he won't be mad enough to respond."
"It doesn't matter. If he refuses, he loses the justification he has built up."
All nodded in agreement.
The truth was, what weighed more heavily than their losses was their reputation.
Cheonma Sword had requested a duel and issued warnings. In doing so, he gained justification, while the Cheongseong Sect became branded as cowards.
Sect Leader Jang Un smiled faintly.
"So whether he accepts or refuses, we regain justification. And in doing so, restore our lost honor."
"Yes. If he refuses, we reclaim justification. If he accepts, we destroy him."
"But will he come?"
Murong Lin shook her head.
"He will not. Not unless he's mad."
But even as she said it, she flinched inwardly.
Not unless he's mad…
And yet Cheonma Sword had already shattered common sense again and again. That thought lodged uncomfortably in her chest.