Second Departure — Clash with the Tianshan Guests
A group of martial artists stood before the gates of the Jin estate.
Their long black hair hung loose and unbound, and they wore wide-sleeved garments like Daoist adepts, draped carelessly over their shoulders.
There was nothing ordinary about their bearing.
They looked as though they had just descended from the mountains.
"What business brings you here?"
Their appearance was far from commonplace, and so the guards at the gate spoke cautiously.
There were three middle-aged men, one old man, and a woman.
They bore the unmistakable air of the martial world, and each carried a large weapon.
One of the middle-aged men glanced at the gatekeepers and spoke lightly.
"Tell them Tianshan has arrived."
It was the tone of someone long accustomed to giving orders.
Not openly rude, yet tinged with condescension.
In these unsettled times, even those guarding the gate were direct descendants of the clan, yet he regarded them as little more than servants.
In contrast to the strained atmosphere at the entrance, the interior of the estate was in uproar.
Soldiers moved everywhere, preparing for departure.
Armor was strapped on, tack was tightened, supplies secured.
Men and horses crowded together, and noise filled the air.
Horses stamped and shifted restlessly; handlers worked to steady them.
The formation had not yet fully settled.
In the large courtyard connected to the gate, the First Company of the White Dragon Cavalry—over a hundred riders—stood ready to depart.
Lee Hee had decided to send Gagyeongpil, who usually led the vanguard, ahead with the First Company, with the Second and Third Companies to follow.
After reviewing the strategy, each man had been assigned his role.
The First Company, tasked with slaying the enemy commander and severing supply lines, stood poised to ride.
One of the gate guards went inside to announce the visitors.
In the meantime, So-un sensed the unfamiliar presence at the entrance.
Though some distance away, he heard the word "Tianshan."
He had heard that name before from Jin Mugwang.
It was likely connected to the affairs of the clan.
He watched in silence.
At least they were not the Emperor's hounds.
He had heard that certain distant mountain sects still preserved their own austere dignity.
The visitors were neither particularly polite nor openly rude.
Yet when their eyes fell upon the inscription "The First House Under Heaven," they smirked faintly.
The transformation from "First House of Henan" to "First House Under Heaven" had been So-un's doing.
They seemed to regard it as arrogance.
"Senility, perhaps… Ah, the White Dragon Cavalry?"
"These fellows must have carved it… Wait—Master, this was written with a sword."
"Is that so? It appears so. The cut surface is clean. A master of high level carved this."
"Surely not… carving stone with a sword? It must have been chiseled for years."
The old man's expression changed as he examined the massive black rock.
His initial indifference gave way to surprise.
If it had truly been carved by blade rather than tool, it was remarkable.
The stone's surface had been sliced as thinly as by a razor.
Turning, they saw over a hundred mounted soldiers moving in tight coordination.
Martial artists often dismissed armies as rabble.
But these were no simple foot soldiers with spears.
They were fully armored cavalry.
Long weapons, close-combat arms, ranged weapons, cavalry shields—everything was prepared.
It was not mere splendor but condensed force.
Individual frailty disappeared within the whole; they seemed like a single massive statue.
Arrayed in ranks, they stretched farther than the eye could measure.
Men and horses moved as one body, loading supplies, fastening weapons, tightening straps.
The clamor of metal striking metal, shouted commands, and stamping hooves blended into a deep, resonant thunder.
Absorbed in departure preparations, they paid no heed to the visitors.
The masters of Tianshan stood ignored.
Such treatment was unfamiliar to them.
Wherever they traveled in the Central Plains, they commanded respect.
If Mount Diancang's sword was swift and lively, Tianshan's sword was heavy and grave.
In matters of the blade, they considered themselves supreme.
Yet the clan member sent to summon Jin Mushik had not returned.
Finding the old man among the bustling stables was no easy task.
The delay soured their mood.
"These wretches… testing our patience."
The middle-aged man's face reddened.
Jin Mushik was in a western warehouse, overseeing supplies with a steward.
"Is this how you treat guests? Do you know who we are?"
The shout made one of the young guards flinch.
At that moment, several White Dragon riders turned their horses' heads.
For cavalry, that simple motion meant readiness to strike.
Ten fully armored riders lowered their spears and shifted formation.
The pressure was immediate.
"What's all this shouting?"
"They're not clan members."
"Making a scene while we're busy."
The muttering was audible.
The middle-aged man could endure no more.
He glanced at the old master and drew his long sword—longer than necessary.
He stepped inside, blade lowered.
"Was that insult meant for me?"
"It was not. Stand aside. We depart shortly."
The words did not finish.
The Tianshan warrior launched forward.
Spears rose in unison.
There was no opening.
The horses advanced together, ten spearpoints thrusting as one.
They were no ordinary soldiers; they were trained.
Three other Tianshan masters drew their blades.
Steel sang.
"So this is your hospitality!"
Four long swords flared outward, cutting wind and sand.
In a duel, their presence would have suffocated breath.
But they did not face a single opponent.
Ten riders stepped forward as one.
Hooves struck earth in thunder.
Spears overlapped, forming layered walls.
A sword thrust like lightning.
The first spear deflected; the second probed the flank; the third sought the throat.
The swords were swift and sharp, yet the mass of horseflesh and the reach of spears dominated space.
The riders leaned low, guiding their mounts with subtle pressure of their toes.
Half-steps forward, half-steps back.
If one spear faltered, another filled the gap.
Steel rang; spearpoints held firm.
The Tianshan warriors' expressions hardened.
They realized they faced not men but a living cavalry wall.
Individual mastery glittered, yet the force of ten horses moving as one was different.
Unable to bear it, the middle-aged master vaulted upward.
He stepped upon a spear shaft and soared, blade raised high.
A faint violet radiance shimmered along the edge—inner power unleashed.
Then another presence entered.
A blue arc flashed between the riders.
A long halberd tipped with blade and hook, tassel fluttering green, traced a circle in the air.
The violet swordlight was brushed aside.
A light tap.
Not a grand collision.
Yet all four swords trembled.
Their trajectories shattered.
Bodies slid backward as if pressed by an unseen hand.
One step, two, three.
Dust shifted beneath their heels.
Before them stood So-un.
He had slipped between the horses, halberd angled across his body.
His breathing was calm; his gaze steady.
The ten riders immediately closed ranks at his flanks.
Horses snorted; spearpoints leveled at chest height.
So-un lifted the halberd lightly.
"I do not know what business brings you here."
His voice was low but clear.
"We are preparing to depart for a matter of life and death."
The halberd's tip nudged a sword aside once more.
"Please step aside."
The cavalry advanced half a pace.
Hooves pressed into earth.
"If our speech was coarse, it is from lack of refinement, not from contempt."
His eyes flicked briefly to the inscription on the rock.
"This is the ancestral home of General Jin Mugwang, the First House Under Heaven."
The halberd lowered slowly, covering all four blades.
"If you draw steel here, we will not yield."
Silence settled.
Only the breath of horses and the rasp of armor remained.
"Return your swords and wait a moment."