Chongqing
Tang Mujin thought back carefully to the events of the previous evening.
He remembered starting a sparring match with Hong Geolgae and trading a few exchanges—but after that, his memory was blank.
That's right. Once again, the one who fainted in the duel was Tang Mujin!
His spirits sank.
"I never should have asked to be taught swordsmanship…"
Tang Mujin was living in deep regret.
Goiyi kept insisting, "There is pain without growth, but no growth without pain," and was forcing training beyond the bounds of common sense.
Lately, Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae's daily routine was divided neatly into three: palm techniques, footwork, and swordsmanship.
Before breakfast, Goiyi taught them a palm technique called Flying Willow Palm .
Calling it "training" was generous—it was basically a beating. Goiyi played the role of the striker, while Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae played the role of the ones being struck.
They weren't even allowed to fight back. If they so much as raised an arm or leg in an unlearned way to try to block, they'd be pummeled until they vomited like a dog on the hottest summer day.
Better to vomit before breakfast than after. That was the grim but practical reason why training in Flying Willow Palm always came first, before they ate.
After breakfast, until dinner, came endless practice of Purple Cloud Steps .
Unlike Flying Willow Palm, Purple Cloud Steps didn't hurt—but it was even more grueling. Goiyi's training method was: "Do not take a single step unless it's with Purple Cloud Steps."
Using Purple Cloud Steps required awkward, complicated footwork, all while forcefully circulating their inner energy.
Recently, they'd at least managed to move faster than a normal walking pace. But at first, it had been unbearable—sweating buckets all day, only to cover less than a single ri. It was literally the pace of a crawling grub.
As a result, their party had taken a full month to travel less than a thousand li. Naturally, that meant a month of camping under the open sky.
After dinner came the long-awaited training in the heart-piercing sword.
Goiyi would begin by demonstrating a form, then have Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae spar with each other.
But the victor was always Hong Geolgae. The gap was simply too wide between someone who'd at least swung a club before, and Tang Mujin, who'd never touched a weapon in his life.
"Now I see a chance."
Lately, the gap had narrowed. If things kept up like this, in a few more days he might even score his first victory.
But before Tang Mujin could win that first match…
A great city appeared before their eyes.
Thirty-six days after leaving Jueul Village, the party arrived at Chongqing.
From the previous evening, dark clouds had begun to creep over the sky, and by the time they reached Chongqing, rain was pouring down in torrents.
Normally, he would have hated getting soaked—but today, Tang Mujin welcomed it. Their group looked like beggars among beggars.
"Perfect."
It felt satisfying to have the sweat and dust washed away by rain. Even better, the townsfolk around them were getting drenched too.
Better for everyone to look bedraggled together than for him alone to be filthy and ashamed.
As soon as they entered the city gates, Hong Geolgae bowed deeply to Goiyi and Tang Mujin.
"I've received much help from you until now."
"What, you're leaving already?"
"I've leaned on you all this way, but I can't keep imposing now that I've reached my destination."
Tang Mujin felt a lump in his chest. After a month of hardship together, he had grown close to Hong Geolgae, and parting was painful.
Goiyi, however, answered lightly.
"The longer farewells drag on, the heavier the sorrow. If fate wills it, we'll meet again."
Hong Geolgae bowed again to Goiyi, with a formality almost excessive. To him, Goiyi was not only a lifesaver, but in some sense a teacher.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, Goiyi called out.
"Oh, Hong Geolgae."
"Yes?"
"Your real name is Hong Jusān, isn't it? And Elder Ma Jeonggae's name was Hong Gyeon?"
"That's correct."
"Hmm."
Goiyi crossed his arms and tapped his temple, as if pondering something.
"If you plan to settle in Chongqing, you'd best not use the name Hong Jusān."
"…Sir?"
At the sudden suggestion, Hong Geolgae looked puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"You came from a village tied to a bad incident. If anyone here knows your name, they may see you as unlucky. And besides, you've killed someone—even if you never meant to—that only makes it worse."
"…I see."
Hong Geolgae nodded. What Goiyi said made sense.
"And, Elder Ma Jeonggae wasn't your father, was he?"
"No, sir. I was told he took me in as an infant and raised me."
"Then you've no need to cling to his surname. Better to change it along with your given name. How about Lee Jusān instead of Hong Jusān?"
Lee was Goiyi's own surname.
Hong Geolgae wasn't quick-witted, nor did he know much about etiquette. But he could clearly feel the goodwill in Goiyi's words.
"I'm grateful for your kindness. I'll do as you suggest."
"Good. For now, that'll be best."
Hong Geolgae bowed deeply to Goiyi, then clasped fists toward Tang Mujin.
After living through thick and thin together for so long, there was no need for lengthy speeches.
Tang Mujin grinned and gave him a firm pat on the back. That was farewell enough.
Hong Geolgae walked off into the streets of Chongqing.
Before long, the heavy rain veiled him from sight.
"Let's go too," Goiyi said.
"Where to?"
"First, we need a place to stay."
Goiyi walked with confidence, as though he knew Chongqing's layout by heart.
They headed toward the city center, where the buildings grew taller and more ornate.
Finally, he stopped before a large two-story building.
The eaves were long, red lanterns hung out front, and under the eaves a fine signboard read: Shinwol Guesthouse .
Tang Mujin tensed. He had a rough idea how expensive a stay at such a grand inn would be.
"In Chengdu, a place like this would cost a tael of silver for just two nights."
And unlike Chengdu, Chongqing was a hub for travelers coming up the Yangtze. That meant lodgings here would be even pricier.
Worse still, if his memory was right, Goiyi didn't have a single coin to his name.
He'd given all his money to Tang Mujin as payment for the needles, and they hadn't earned a thing since leaving Jueul Village.
Tang Mujin's own purse wasn't any better. He had given the gold ingot Goiyi had once handed him to his father, Tang Jesun, as a last act of filial piety before leaving.
In short, they were both broke.
"…Elder, do you even have money?"
"No. None."
"Then why on earth are we here?"
"Don't worry. A man like me is welcomed with open arms wherever he goes."
So that's what it means to be a supreme master… Tang Mujin couldn't help but be a little impressed at Goiyi's boundless confidence.
The moment the two of them stepped inside, a waiter darted forward like lightning to greet them.
"Welcome, honored guests!"
The waiter quickly scanned Goiyi and Tang Mujin's appearance.
Even drenched in rain, there lingered a shabbiness that no amount of washing could hide. His tone grew a little less respectful.
"Hmm… What business brings you here? A meal? Lodging?"
"Both."
"Lodging is paid in advance. For two people, one night is one tael of silver."
As expected—outrageously expensive. Yet Goiyi didn't seem to care in the slightest.
"The owner of Shinwol Guesthouse is Seopnyeong, yes?"
"That's correct."
"Take us to the finest room, then tell Seopnyeong that Yi Chung has arrived. He will settle the room and board himself."
The waiter's eyes widened.
His expression seemed to say, "Yi Chung? Surely not the famous Goiyi?"
But Goiyi added one more line.
"Tell him this: Five years ago, I said he should repay his gambling debt. He'll understand."
The waiter's face instantly shifted to "Of course, that makes sense." Tang Mujin's eyes narrowed as well.
Gambling.
He had thought Goiyi must have healed the innkeeper's illness as a physician, or perhaps offered aid as a martial master. Instead, it turned out he had merely wiped out the man's gambling debt.
"Elder… what on earth have you been up to?"
"Heroes and gallant men sometimes enjoy wine and gambling."
"To erase an innkeeper's debt through gambling—you're practically a professional gambler, aren't you?"
"Do you think my talents are limited to only one or two fields?"
As Goiyi rambled on with sly amusement, the two of them followed the waiter upstairs and arrived at a spacious chamber.
They unpacked their meager belongings.
After so long on the road, it was a relief to be in a proper building. Yet it was far too early in the day to settle down for rest.
Goiyi seemed to think the same, for instead of sitting, he stood by the door.
"Come along, quickly."
"Where are we going?"
"You have something you need to do, don't you?"
"…What kind of thing?"
"I didn't travel with you just to teach you medicine and martial arts. You owe me something as well."
Right—he had half forgotten. Tang Mujin had promised to craft something for Goiyi.
"What do you need?"
"Let's begin with a sword. Use your skill to forge me a fine blade."
"Forging it isn't the problem. Do you know any blacksmith?"
"No."
"Then maybe a blacksmith who owes you gambling debt?"
"Of course not."
Goiyi remained utterly confident. Where did this endless self-assurance come from?
"Then what's your plan?"
"Just follow me. Borrowing a smithy for a few days for free—that's child's play."
From the guesthouse, Goiyi borrowed two bamboo raincoats.
Even for a luxury inn, such items weren't usually lent out so easily. Yet the waiter didn't even mention a deposit. Clearly, Goiyi had erased a very large debt indeed.
Tang Mujin felt a prickling at the back of his neck. Turning, he saw a man with drooping mustache glaring daggers at Goiyi from the kitchen.
That must be the innkeeper, Seopnyeong.
"His eyes look like they could kill a man. Did you cheat him at gambling?"
"He tried to cheat me first."
Tang Mujin had meant it as a joke—but Goiyi's reply hit the mark exactly.
Tang Mujin felt a kind of awe. He's even dabbled in crooked gambling? Just how bottomless is this man's depravity?
The two walked leisurely through the streets.
The rain poured down so heavily that few people were outside.
Merchants had half abandoned their stalls, squatting under eaves, puffing on long pipes, watching the rainfall. It was a tranquil sight.
Goiyi asked the locals where the largest smithy in Chongqing was.
What they found was more than three times the size of Seok Jiseung's forge back in Chengdu.
"Welcome, sirs! What are you looking for?"
The moment Goiyi and Tang Mujin entered, the blacksmith rushed out beaming. With no customers all day thanks to the storm, it was no wonder he was thrilled to see not one but two well-dressed men in costly rain gear.
"I'd like to rent your forge for a few days. Until the rains ease."
The blacksmith studied Goiyi's expression, unsure whether he was joking or serious.
Of course, Goiyi was perfectly serious. And soon enough, the smith's face warmed into a smile.
Normally, the idea of renting out a smithy was absurd. But with the summer rains just begun, it was obvious the downpour would last for days.
Until the skies cleared, there would be no business anyway—effectively closed.
So, depending on the price, it wasn't impossible.
The blacksmith rubbed his hands eagerly.
"If the terms are right, I don't see why not. How much would you be willing to pay…?"
"Pay? I offer a price beyond all reckoning. Accept, and you'll thank me for the rest of your life."
Greed gleamed in the blacksmith's eyes.
Just what kind of treasure was this man about to reveal? He imagined gold and jewels spilling from Goiyi's robes. Of course, there were none.
Goiyi picked up a chair inside the smithy.
He dragged it across the floor and placed it in the corner, with a clear view of the anvil.
Pointing at the chair with one finger, then at Tang Mujin, he declared:
"I grant you the right to sit here and watch this one at work. A front-row seat."