People on the Cliff
"Just a few days north from here lies Mount Wudang. I was once a Taoist disciple of the Wudang Sect. A cultivator of the sword, dreaming of transcending into immortality. Tanglang and Shanjeo were the same."
Tang Mujin had known from the beginning. Strictly speaking, it was Namgung Myeong who had realized it, not he.
"When we turned twenty, the three of us left for the martial world together, roaming through the Central Plains. Our long-dreamed debut as wanderers of Jianghu. I remember it vividly still. We lingered around Shaanxi, and following our seniors' advice, traced the Yellow River all the way to Mount Tai."
A soft smile played at Pyo Chung's lips. As with anyone recalling joyful memories, his unfocused eyes stared into some place far away.
"It was a dreamlike life. We even performed a few things resembling righteous deeds, subdued bandits and handed them over to the magistrates. I still remember the awe of watching masters duel. Have you ever seen Mount Tai? It's a peerless sight. A view one will never behold again in a lifetime."
At this peak of recollection, Pyo Chung's voice slowed, and his tone sank lower.
"After seeing Mount Tai, we turned south, then westward along the Yangtze. And when the time to return to Mount Wudang drew near, we heard an interesting tale in Yichang. That a band of rebels was sowing chaos in the world, and any righteous hero wishing to uphold justice should gather at the Sword Gate of Taiyi. Our hearts swelled with pride and experience, so we did not hesitate."
"That is how you came to Nogunsan?"
"…Yes. We followed as told, and there we found only ragged men and women with twisted, desperate faces. Perhaps it was their expressions, but without the slightest doubt, I took up my sword and fought among the others. It wasn't a difficult fight. No—too easy, so easy it became suspicious."
"…"
To an ignorant ear, it might have sounded like a lighthearted tale of youthful bravado.
But in truth it was self-condemnation, grief, and guilt.
"I was a fool. I thought that was righteousness. I imagined myself returning to Wudang with a grand tale. I thought when I boasted of how many rebels I slew, the others would gape in awe. That's how shallow I was."
"And among those you cut down… was Old Madam Ju's son?"
"Yes."
The tale paused.
It was a story damp and heavy as that rain-drenched cave, as musty and rank as the moss clinging to its walls.
A memory one tried to wash away, only for it to seep back in again and again.
Tang Mujin fingered the spirit tablet in his hand. Seo Song-deok. Age twenty-nine. Killed by a martial artist's blade.
"Later, I protested to the Sword Master of Taiyi. I asked if those we slew were truly rebels. He answered thus: just as dogs beget puppies and pigs beget piglets, so too the children of rebels must surely be rebels. I wanted to say something, anything—but I was the one who had swung his sword with the most zeal. I could not utter a word. And then, the Sword Master of Taiyi struck with his blade and severed the bridge."
"The bridge?"
"Yes. The Cloud Bridge."
Tang Mujin had seen countless cliffside paths in Nogunsan, yet never a bridge. At his confused look, Pyo Chung explained:
"That cliff where you two were stranded—there was no path because a Cloud Bridge was meant to span the gap. But just before its completion, the Sword Master cut it down."
The phrasing—you two—felt strange. Tang Mujin turned, and saw that Namgung Myeong, who had been asleep in the hut, was sitting beside him, listening as if he had been there all along. The sight startled him so badly he jumped.
"Wha—! When did you get here?"
"I've been listening from the start."
He must have concealed his presence deliberately. Namgung Myeong's Hidden Presence Technique was so refined that if he chose to vanish, even Tang Mujin could not sense him.
Seeing this, Pyo Chung gave a wry chuckle, then pulled a long chest from the cave's depths.
Within, beneath the worn lid, lay an equally worn silk scroll.
Unrolling it, Pyo Chung revealed a single line written upon it:
[Keep the rebels within Nogunsan until they wash away their crimes with merit.]
"What is this?"
"They say it is an imperial edict from long ago."
The sentence was weighty. Though the silk was frayed and tattered, the brushstrokes remained as black and sharp as ever.
Until the edges of the silk rotted to dust, that single decree had chained the people of Nogun Village to Nogunsan.
That one sentence had birthed the thousands of spirit tablets resting in this cave.
"And what merit is this decree speaking of?"
"It was never defined. Nothing was set, nothing was explained. And so the people could only strive for a merit so undeniable that even the heavens would have to acknowledge it. Only then could they hope to leave Nogunsan. The path they chose was to carve roads into these cliffs. To lay plank-walkways and build bridges across the precipices."
Tang Mujin recalled an old fable—Yugong Yishan, the Foolish Old Man who sought to move mountains and, by his perseverance, moved the Jade Emperor to pity. The people of Nogunsan must have sought the same: to move the emperor's heart by carving roads through mountains.
To make a road in such a place was arduous beyond imagining, and thus, the greatest of merits.
The villagers, trapped within Nogunsan, dedicated their lives to building cliff roads, hoping that if not themselves, their descendants might one day escape. They lived upon cliffs, and struggled to escape from cliffs.
Namgung Myeong asked:
"Even so, since you made so many cliff paths, doesn't that mean the work is nearly done? The Cloud Bridge can be built again."
"It was rebuilt. And destroyed again."
"…What?"
"We disciples—my brothers and I—begged the villagers' forgiveness and settled here, helping them. When the bridge was nearly finished once more, the Sword Master of Taiyi returned with his men. By then, we too had reached the level of first-rate martial artists, and thought we could at least contend with him. But…"
Tang Mujin could already guess the rest. Time did not stand still for their foe, either.
"In the time it took us to reach first-rate, he had broken through the wall to the supreme realm. We were too weak. He crushed us utterly, and the bridge was cut down once again."
Pyo Chung let out a long, shuddering sigh, shaking his head.
"After it was destroyed twice, everyone understood. Once trapped in Nogunsan, we would forever live like livestock. To the county magistrate, to the people of Nakseong Village, to the Sword Master of Taiyi—we of Nogunsan are nothing but beasts. Beasts to be kept and passed down through generations."
Tang Mujin broke into his spiraling despair.
"Couldn't the villagers flee? Nogunsan is harsh, yes, but surely there must be some way out."
"There are watchers. To prevent the bridge's completion. To stop anyone from escaping."
"Ah."
It was not hard to guess who. The Green Forest bandits they had seen battling the Nogun Three Swords.
If not to play watchdog, what business would brigands have in Nogunsan? There were no trade routes here, no villages worth plundering.
Tang Mujin almost suggested killing all the watchers to escape—but stopped short.
Even if the watchers failed to return, their absence itself would serve the purpose. If a guard did not report back, it meant trouble had occurred. A new group of watchers would simply be sent in their place.
Perhaps because he had gone back through it all from the beginning, Pyo Chung felt a crushing suffocation pressing on his chest.
Nogunsan was a vast prison. The county magistrate, Nakseong Village, even the Sword Master of Taiyi—all were complicit in constructing this cage.
Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong racked their minds for answers. They were too young to simply collapse into despair, too unaccustomed to resignation.
Namgung Myeong asked:
"Then why not build the bridge again? Surely many wish to leave Nogunsan."
Pyo Chung shook his head.
"There will be those who die building the bridge. And before it is finished, it will be cut down again. Besides… the people are satisfied as things stand."
"…Satisfied?"
"Thanks to you two, Nogun Village can finally live decently. Do you know how long it's been since there were no hungry, crying children?"
It was no empty flattery. Pyo Chung truly seemed content.
Having spent more than half his life in Nogunsan, watching people suffer, perhaps this new comfort appeared enough.
But Tang Mujin immediately refuted him.
"It will not remain livable for long."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Consider how others view Nogunsan. As long as you are starving and desperate, you'll risk your lives on the cliffs, gathering herbs to trade. But if you endure as you do now—picking fruit, hunting beasts, and feeding yourselves—then their profit is cut off."
Pyo Chung's face hardened. Tang Mujin's words struck true. He had simply never followed the thought to its end.
Tang Mujin pressed on:
"I don't know what methods they'll use. But they'll contrive something. They'll force hardship upon you until you return to hunger and misery. Perhaps even worse than before."
"But there are two obstacles. If we rebuild the bridge, the Sword Master of Taiyi will come again and destroy it. And even if by some miracle it is completed, the local magistrate will never send word to the capital."
Pyo Chung listed the reasons as if he had been waiting for this moment.
Tang Mujin cut him off, his voice sharp.
"The Sword Master of Taiyi can be stopped. Supreme realm or not, we have five first-rate martial artists. That will suffice."
"…Five?"
Pyo Chung looked up.
Within Nogunsan, only the Three Swords had cultivated martial arts. The only outsiders were Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong.
That meant both were already first-rate.
"I suspected you had trained well, but… first-rate, at that age?"
Neither Tang Mujin nor Namgung Myeong boasted. They only nodded with quiet certainty.
In that simple, matter-of-fact gesture, Pyo Chung glimpsed possibility.
"Then perhaps there is hope. But the second problem remains. What of the magistrate? If he refuses to report upward, nothing will change."
It was Namgung Myeong who answered this time.
"Then don't appeal to him. Approach other counties instead—Yichang, Jangri, Jusan. We need not beg for their protection. All we require is for one of them to verify that a bridge has been built in Nogunsan. They have no stake in suppressing you, so at least one will help."
"…That is far too vague."
The plan was thin, and Pyo Chung's tone wavered with doubt.
But Tang Mujin knew there were times when hesitation only meant defeat.
"There's no need to cower and calculate. Only two choices lie before you: sit and wait until misery swallows you again, or wager everything on the chance before you. The odds are not hopeless."
What kind of man the emperor truly was, none of them knew. Perhaps they never would.
But he was still a man. If word reached his ears of the people trapped in Nogunsan, some response would surely follow.
After all, these villagers were not the rebels themselves, but merely those who had once lived nearby—descendants many generations removed. And that rebellion had not even been against the current dynasty.
If they carved a road and raised a bridge, that would be merit great enough to be freed.
"Think simply. Rebuild the bridge. Stop the Sword Master of Taiyi. Deliver word through another magistrate. That is all. You have nothing left to lose."
Pyo Chung lowered his head without replying. He was not the village's sole voice, and even if he were, such a decision could not be his alone.
"…I will hear the people's will."
"If they choose to stay as they are, then we will soon leave this place. Perhaps we will return someday to tend the sick—but never again to offer such a chance."
"…I understand."
The three men stepped outside. The rain had ceased.
Pyo Chung went from house to house, asking each villager's thoughts.
At first, fear of change bound their tongues. But when told that their present abundance would not last, their stances shifted quickly.
Having once tasted a brief season of plenty, they could not bear the thought of returning to hunger.
Yes, they might scrape by if they did nothing. But would that life, one of mere survival, truly be worth more than death?
Even within burnt-out embers, a spark can smolder. So too did the people of Nogun Village still yearn for a better life.
Two days later, Pyo Chung came before Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong. He bowed deeply.
"For the sake of Nogun Village… lend us your hand."
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