The Mt. Emei Sect
The martial world of the Central Plains is divided by the Yangtze River into north and south.
At first glance, this seems like a mere geographical distinction—but in truth, the difference is profound.
The great sects and clans that everyone recognizes by name are almost all north of the Yangtze.
Even there, the greatest concentration lies in Shaanxi and Henan, followed by Sichuan, Anhui, and Hubei.
By contrast, south of the Yangtze there are only two true giants: the Mt. Emei Sect in distant Yunnan, and the Namgung Clan in Anhui. Strictly speaking, both border the Yangtze rather than lying wholly south of it.
But the south is no void. Many mid-sized orthodox and unorthodox sects have their roots there, constantly jostling for space and survival.
And now, Tang Mujin's party had arrived at Jiujiang, a southern city in Jiangxi far from the Yangtze itself.
The first thing they did upon reaching the city was head straight to an inn. They needed food, and there was no better place to ask questions in unfamiliar territory than over a tavern table.
After a meal, Tang Mujin leaned toward a man eating nearby.
"Excuse me, may I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"Which martial clan or sect here in Jiujiang is the most influential?"
The man answered awkwardly.
"Well… I'm not from here myself, so I can't say for certain. But from what I know, the most famous sect in Jiujiang is Jeyangmun."
"Jeyangmun?"
"Yes. It's said to have a good reputation, and even its halls look impressive."
At the mention of Jeyangmun, Namgung Myeong frantically shook his head. Tang Mujin lowered his voice.
"What's wrong?"
"Jeyangmun has ties to the Namgung Clan. Someone there might recognize me."
That actually made Tang Mujin think it might be interesting to go.
But before he could start persuading Namgung with all kinds of reasoning, a young man at another table snorted and interrupted.
"Jeyangmun? You think that only because you're an outsider. Yoo Family Manor is much stronger."
"Yoo Family Manor?"
"Yes, the Yoo Escort Bureau's manor. Haven't you heard of it?"
Tang Mujin inwardly sighed. Escort agencies were mostly unimpressive—stuffed with third-rates, some second-rates strutting proudly, and the rare first-rate here and there. Hardly strong enough to stand as a shield against Salmak.
"You don't believe me? Well, not long ago a Yoo escort beat down a Jeyangmun instructor in a fight."
"Is that true?"
An instructor of a mid-sized sect would at least be second-rate. For an ordinary escort—neither a chief nor captain—to defeat such a man was hard to believe.
The young man, pleased at their surprise, puffed up.
"Of course! The Yoo Escort Bureau isn't ordinary. They refuse cheap commissions. They've got confidence."
That at least sounded useful. When Tang Mujin glanced at his companions, Namgung Myeong nodded desperately. If not Yoo Manor, they'd have to approach Jeyangmun, and he clearly wanted to avoid that.
Dan Seol-yeong and Chusam, as usual, had no particular opinion.
Two in favor, two indifferent—the party headed to Yoo Family Manor.
***
On Jiujiang's outskirts, they found Yoo Manor.
It had a wide estate, but its condition was shabby. The walls were crude, the roofs beyond them had missing tiles like a broken comb.
No guards stood at the gate, so they simply walked in. Inside, people bustled about unpacking cargo, seemingly just returned from an escort mission. But something about them was odd.
"Don't they look far stronger than normal escorts?"
"Definitely. Can we even call this an escort bureau?"
Ordinary escorts were usually third-rate, often not even that. But Yoo Manor's men were at least second-rate, many even appearing first-rate.
Yet they did not radiate the rough aura of dark path fighters or demonic practitioners. Instead their force was polished, orderly—clearly orthodox.
Sensing Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong's unease, Dan Seol-yeong clutched his sleeve tightly. Tang Mujin gently held her shoulder to calm her.
Soon, a middle-aged man approached them. Namgung Myeong glanced at him arrogantly.
"His attainment is extraordinary."
He looked under forty, yet his stride and bearing suggested he had already crossed the threshold of peak mastery.
He too recognized their level at a glance, his eyes sharpening as he studied them.
"Formidable young heroes. I am Yoo Jingwang, master of this manor. What brings you here?"
"We wondered if we might stay as guest retainers."
"Guest retainers? For men of such skill to come here, you must be embroiled in trouble, am I right?"
Unfortunately, Yoo Manor's master was perceptive. Realizing they carried trouble, he might very well drive them away.
But instead he surprised them.
"Still, if you can pay enough, we will gladly accept you as guest retainers."
They traded baffled looks.
Guest retainers normally offered service in exchange for lodging and meals, sometimes even earning stipends. But Yoo Jingwang was demanding money—like an innkeeper, not a clan lord.
And then he added, "In fact, if you pay enough, we can even help resolve your problem within our means."
It felt uncomfortably as though he could see through them. Tang Mujin hesitated.
But Namgung Myeong reacted differently. With strange confidence, he stepped forward.
"Interesting offer. But I must ask—your manor didn't split from Yunnan after conflict, did it?"
Yoo Jingwang's eyes narrowed.
"Young, but sharp indeed. No—nothing of the sort. You need not worry."
"Then we'll stay at Yoo Manor."
The master nodded and called out.
"Cheong-ah! Guide our guests to their quarters."
"Yes."
The group followed someone called Cheong to the guest hall.
***
Inside, the quarters were clean, though plainly worn. The bedding was frayed, the furniture tilted or rotting at the edges.
Tang Mujin, Dan Seol-yeong, and Chusam sat around Namgung Myeong.
From his last words to the manor master, it was clear he knew something.
"What was that about Yunnan earlier?"
"Didn't you notice anything about the escorts and the master?"
"I only thought their martial skill was good. Nothing more."
"What matters is what martial arts they use. Every one of them practiced the techniques of the Mt. Emei Sect (점창파)."
"What?"
Martial artists concealing their identities and living in odd places—Tang Mujin immediately thought of the Three Old Swords. Could it be that Mt. Emei's disciples too had become entangled in danger?
"Why are Mt. Emei's men here?"
"I'm not from Mt. Emei myself, so I can't know for certain. But I do have a guess."
"What is it?"
Namgung Myeong hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"My uncle once told me that Mt. Emei was facing the greatest crisis since its founding."
Dan Seol-yeong's face grew tight with worry. If even a giant like Mt. Emei spoke of crisis, then it was surely more severe than the troubles Tang Mujin's party carried.
"Then shouldn't we leave right away? It feels like we came here to avoid trouble and instead walked into something far worse."
"No. It's not the kind of problem you're imagining—not blades flashing and blood spilled. But from Mt. Emei's perspective, it's far graver."
"What kind of problem could be more serious than that?"
"Finances."
The answer was so unexpected that Tang Mujin thought he'd misheard.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Right now Mt. Emei is drowning in debt. From what I heard, the interest they owe each month exceeds the income from their headquarters."
"That doesn't even make— No, never mind. Go on."
Namgung Myeong furrowed his brow, digging into his memory to piece the story together.
"This is what my uncle told me. During the last war between orthodox and unorthodox sects, every clan and school suffered grievous losses. Countless disciples died or were maimed. Even our Namgung Clan was no exception."
At that point, Dan Seol-yeong blinked and frowned.
"…Our Namgung Clan?"
Namgung Myeong realized his slip too late, his face tightening.
"So you're from the Namgung Clan?"
His pupils quivered violently, but Tang Mujin showed no surprise. He only thought: So the moment has finally come.
The real surprise was that a fool like Namgung had managed to keep it hidden this long.
And now that the words were out, there was no taking them back. Tang Mujin stepped in with a plain explanation.
"That's right. His name is Namgung Myeong, only son of Namgung Jincheon—the Sword Demon, current head of the Namgung Clan."
The revelation was staggering. Dan Seol-yeong blurted out her honest thought without meaning to.
"This idiot? Then why on earth was someone like him freeloading in our house?"
Our house. That phrasing carried implications all its own.
Namgung Myeong stammered, embarrassed.
"There were… reasons. But that's not what matters right now. Let's return to the main subject."
"I'm more interested in your story, honestly…"
He deliberately ignored her, forcing himself back on track.
"Anyway, during that war, every sect lost far too many disciples. Dead, crippled, or cut down in their prime. Even famous masters—like Je Wonbaek, the Sword King—fell. That was tragic enough, but another issue loomed just as large. One they dared not speak openly of. Money."
He continued firmly.
"Our Namgung Clan had strong enough foundations to weather the loss and recover. But not every sect had such stability. Some were always poor at managing wealth. Others lived hand-to-mouth even in peacetime. The most notorious example was Mt. Emei. And they suffered especially severe losses in the war."
"Why them in particular?"
"Because of where they are. Mt. Emei is isolated, far off in the southwest."
"Oh. Right."
The Qingcheng Sect and the Mt. Emei Sect of Sichuan were already considered remote compared to the Central Plains heartland. Some called Sichuan a backwater.
But Mt. Emei lay even farther—past Sichuan, deep into Yunnan province.
"Without allies to guard their flanks, they were left exposed. Their headquarters was burned to the ground. They had to rebuild everything from scratch. Imagine the cost."
The notion of a great sect ruined by money troubles was bizarre, the sort of secret only the heir of Namgung could know. Tang Mujin, Dan Seol-yeong, and Chusam all leaned forward, listening intently.
"Worse still, their revenue was meager. Yunnan is harsh, sparsely populated. Unlike other great clans, Mt. Emei couldn't run merchant guilds or lucrative shops. Their debt would take decades to repay. So the former sect leader, Yu Gwan-il—the Lightning Sword—devised a desperate gambit."
"A gambit?"
"A single throw of the dice to win it all. Yu Gwan-il went to the wealthiest man in the martial world: the Golden Lord of Ten Thousand Riches."
Tang Mujin had heard of him—renowned for his immense wealth, controlling trade fleets and salt monopolies that no private man should touch. Ask who was the greatest martial artist under heaven and opinions varied. But ask who was richest, and even a child would say the Golden Lord.
"And what did Yu Gwan-il do?"
"He gambled. Literally. He staked Mt. Emei's entire fortune—every coin, even the loans from other sects—on a single roll of dice. A bet of all or nothing."
"…And?"
"He lost. He resigned as sect leader on the spot and vanished."
Dan Seol-yeong's eyes narrowed.
"Wait. How could you possibly know that? Mt. Emei wouldn't spread word of losing their fortune in a gambling den."
"Our Namgung Clan was one of the creditors."
A blunt, simple answer.
Tang Mujin then asked, "But Mt. Emei still exists in Yunnan, doesn't it? If they lost everything—"
"They're tenants now. They live in their own halls only by paying rent to the Golden Lord. And those rents are covered by fighters like the ones we saw here—hiding their Emei ties, taking work wherever they can."
The three of them sat gaping.
Many martial artists lived recklessly as if tomorrow didn't matter. But Yu Gwan-il, former leader of Mt. Emei, had gambled at a scale beyond madness.
Compared to that, Namgung Myeong's blunders seemed wise and cautious.
Tang Mujin suddenly recalled Guai's old warning.
"Most sects would take you in. You could go to Huashan's Luoyang branch, or seek shelter with the Sama Clan. But don't go to the Wudang branch in Luoyang—or to Mt. Emei's branch."
"Why not those two?"
"Wudang won't accept women, which makes it difficult. As for Mt. Emei… their halls are so run-down the place is crawling with bugs."
He'd thought there was some darker reason behind the warning. But apparently, it was exactly what it sounded like.
And now he understood why Yoo Jingwang had demanded rent from them up front.
Tang Mujin felt a strange solemnity settle over him.
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