Whooosh.

A gust of wind passed between the two of them.

The Crazed Fiend looked at Seo Woojin’s fingertips and smiled.

“What. Do you mean to cut open my chest this time as well?”

Seo Woojin stopped the hand that had been drifting toward his sword without his noticing. He lowered it and glared.

“You said you had come to repay a debt.”

“I did.”

“And yet you know who I am?”

“Do you imagine I’d use it to threaten you?”

Seo Woojin breathed deep and settled himself. Thinking it through, there was nothing the old man stood to gain by threatening him.

“For now… for now, let’s go to my quarters.”

The immediate thing was to get him somewhere quiet. Fortunately he came along without argument. The short walk felt long, but they got there.

Woon Seorin was waiting inside.

“What in the world is—?”

She looked at the Crazed Fiend, taken aback.

Seo Woojin made a low sound in his throat.

“I’m sorry. I think I need to speak with him first. Would you give us the room?”

Woon Seorin frowned, then let out a sigh.

“All right. You and I will talk again later.”

Once she was out, Seo Woojin dropped down in front of the tea table, the tension going out of him all at once.

The Crazed Fiend glanced at the door she had left by.

“Your woman?”

Seo Woojin’s brow furrowed.

“Enough nonsense. Sit down here. A friend of my grandfather’s, you say? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

The Crazed Fiend snorted and sat down across from him.

“No wonder. He’d have been out of his own mind by then.”

“…What does that mean?”

“You were young, so of course you won’t remember. Well — it’s a faint enough memory for me too, saying it.”

The Crazed Fiend told him about the time he had briefly been left in the old man’s care.

That he had recovered the memory while out of his mind was strange, but there was no disbelieving it — his grandfather’s letter had mentioned it too.

“I remember, faintly, how he looked when he came back. Covered head to foot in blood, in a state where dying on the spot wouldn’t have surprised anyone. But he took only you and left at once. And I only watched him go.”

Seo Woojin let out a sigh.

He would have been in a hurry. He had just been told his grandson was next.

“I don’t know what circumstances there are, but your being here in the Dark Alliance is what won’t explain itself. Your grandfather would never have permitted it.”

Seo Woojin gave a bitter smile.

“My grandfather died early this year.”

The Crazed Fiend looked briefly startled, then wore a bitter smile of his own.

“Is that so. So it went that way.”

He closed his eyes and kept silent a while.

Whether it was mourning for the man, or regret for decades in which they had never exchanged a word, there was no reading it. Only that when he opened his eyes again, they were a little clearer.

“I came to help you. Before that, tell me why you are here.”

Seo Woojin considered it.

Could he trust this old man?

Before he came to the Dark Alliance, he would have taken the goodwill at face value. Now he could do nothing but doubt everything and weigh it politically.

He disliked himself for it. What came out of his mouth was a spare piece of the truth and no more.

“There’s an enemy. In the Dark Alliance. That is why I’m here.”

It was a thin explanation, and the Crazed Fiend did not press for more. He only nodded, slowly.

“An enemy is best cut down by your own hand. Then it’s simple.”

“Sorry?”

The old man looked about him, searching for something.

“Where’s the training ground. Where do you train, I’m asking.”

Seo Woojin answered sourly.

“Why would you suddenly—”

The Crazed Fiend grinned.

“I can’t kill your enemy in your place. And I’ve no political base to back you with, have I. Fortunately, this old man was once called by the title of Martial Lord. Do you know what that means?”

Uneasy, Seo Woojin found himself avoiding his eyes.

“Ha, haha. Well. I’m well acquainted with your martial arts already, having experienced them—”

Was it his imagination, that the smile looked briefly vicious?

“I’ll drill you until you’re fit not to die in a ditch somewhere. Well? Good, isn’t it?”

The color drained out of Seo Woojin’s face.

‘Damn it. I’m in trouble.’

A friend of his grandfather’s would never go easy on him. He might well take a serious injury before the duel and be unable to compete at all.

Seo Woojin forced a smile and shook his head.

“How could I not be moved by such great consideration. But I have a duel coming up shortly. I truly would like your instruction, but if I were injured in training there are more than one or two people who would be inconvenienced—”

As the speech ran long, the old man’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’re saying let’s just do it here?”

Fighting spirit came off him in waves.

What was there to do.

‘Hah. I’ve stepped in it.’

In the end Seo Woojin gave up and stood.

“…Follow me.”

Only then did he smile, satisfied, and nod along.

“Good. Lead on, quickly.”

They headed for the Dark Alliance Lord’s private training ground — the Dark Bamboo Court, where black bamboo grew thick.

The Dark Alliance was in an uproar, on account of the Crazed Fiend’s return.

A great deal was said in the effort to work out why he had appeared so suddenly, and why he was in his right mind. No one could guess at his intent.

In some quarters it was said that since the Crazed Fiend had returned, the first trial ought to be reassessed. That was quashed quickly enough, because Cho Igyeom took the lead in defending Seo Woojin.

The point of driving the Crazed Fiend out had been to pull his house down and force the construction through. That had now been achieved, so his coming back posed no problem — such was the logic.

So people’s attention began to fix instead on what he would do next.

While the man himself was cheerfully tormenting Seo Woojin.

CRAAASH!

Crack!

“Kuh!”

Thrown into the bamboo grove, he shattered stalks as he went. The broken ends opened his skin, but there was no time to mind cuts that small.

Seo Woojin got his stance back fast and prepared for the next attack.

Whoooosh!

The palm had already reached his face.

Seo Woojin gritted his teeth and threw his head back, swinging the sword in his right hand at the same time, at nothing in particular.

Vwoom—!

He avoided the palm force, at least.

But—

Grab.

His sword was caught just as easily.

“Tsk, tsk. However pressed you are, swinging a blade at random. This time you should have dodged cleanly and given the attack up.”

Whip—!

The Crazed Fiend flicked the caught blade upward with his fingertips. It went aside with nothing behind it, and Seo Woojin’s chest was left wide open.

The right palm, already recovered, came in again.

Shk—!

‘Kh—!’

Seo Woojin moved his true qi in haste.

Tap.

“Eh?”

But the palm only touched his chest lightly.

“Treating every attack as a real strike is inefficient. You end up over-investing against a feint, and then you’ve no room left to defend the rest.”

The old man seemed to tip back at the waist—

Whoooosh!

CRASH!

—and his left leg came in from the blind side.

Seo Woojin got his right arm up reflexively to guard his head, but—

“Guhk!”

—the shock came through whole, and his skull rang with it.

He staggered back a step. The Crazed Fiend was clicking his tongue in displeasure.

Seo Woojin did not let the moment pass.

The instant his right foot came down in front of him, near enough to a fall—

Whoosh!

—his body shot forward like lightning.

He put all his true qi into the blade, with more rotation in it than usual.

And cut for the old man’s heart.

Wind Flow Eighteen Swords. Wind Tiger Ravaging the Plains.

Like a wounded tiger tearing at another of its kind, his sword came in savagely.

CRAAASH!

The roar sent bamboo flying in splinters. The target he had aimed at was nowhere to be seen.

“Did you think a cheap trick like that would work?”

The Crazed Fiend’s voice came from above his head.

Seo Woojin gritted his teeth and made to swing the sword up into the air, but—

“Tsk. Slow.”

—this time it came from behind.

And then—

Booom—!

A heavy resonance, and his body was shot forward.

CRAAASH!

Straight into the boulder in front of him.

“Kuh…”

This shock was not like the ones before. He tried to get up somehow, and in the end had to lie where he had fallen.

“Haah, haah…”

The Crazed Fiend came over to where he lay gasping and crouched in front of him.

“Are you alive?”

Seo Woojin barely swallowed the curses rising in him.

‘Am I alive? I feel about to die, thanks. Congratulations. The Elder is now set to be hunted by every warrior in the Dark Alliance for murdering the Young Lord.’

He wanted to pour all that out, but his breathing was too ragged for it.

“Tsk, tsk.”

The Crazed Fiend clicked his tongue and laid a hand on his back.

A gentle warmth spread through him. The pain receded, his breath began to come back, and before long he had recovered enough to sit propped against the boulder.

Seo Woojin looked at him, startled.

“How did you do that?”

The Crazed Fiend gave a dry laugh and shook his head.

“That man, honestly…”

He seemed about to say more, then sighed and let it go. And answered the question instead.

“I put internal energy into you and cleared the corrupted qi out of the torn muscle and your lungs. Anyone whose command of internal energy has reached a certain level can do it. Ah — you may not be able to.”

“Sorry?”

“With true qi as rough as yours, you’d tear the wound wider rather than heal anyone.”

“Ah.”

He sat down where he was, with the look of a man who had a great deal to say.

“That you resolved to live in the Dark Alliance with that level of skill is a wonder.”

Seo Woojin’s face fell at the coldness of it.

“Well… I am making an effort of my own, at least…”

The old man shook his head.

“I don’t mean your martial prowess is poor. Frankly, you’re better than any of the rising talents who were being held up as the pillars of the coming age in my day.”

“Then why—?”

“Because surviving on this dark path means going beyond even that level.”

“Ah…”

A small sound escaped him. Meeting the Cheon Clan’s head came back to him unbidden.

“I don’t know your situation exactly. But in the end the enemies you have to face are the pillars holding this dark path up. And as you are now… it would not be strange if you died at any moment.”

Seo Woojin wore a bitter smile.

“Is that… so?”

“There are too many faults. Do you hold to the creed that the best defense is attack? The saying isn’t wrong, but you’re too extreme with it. You’ll throw yourself into a reckless attack without hesitation to stab at an opening.”

The Crazed Fiend’s gaze went to his left hand — still in its splint.

“That left hand was hurt attempting an attack like that, most likely.”

“…Haha.”

Did he remember it was his own doing?

Seo Woojin laughed it off awkwardly.

“The martial way is the act of achieving balance and harmony. Anything extreme is bound to break soon enough.”

“I understand what you mean, but… I’ve trained this way my whole life—”

The Crazed Fiend let out a small laugh.

“No doubt. It was a sword with the Sword Saint’s disposition all over it.”

“Eh?”

“Don’t entertain the absurd notion that if the Sword Saint did it, it must be fine for you too. That man was outside the standard. And I’ve no idea why he taught you some other art rather than the one he himself had mastered.”

He put the question obliquely, and Seo Woojin answered with silence.

The old man clicked his tongue and went on.

“Were you younger, I’d correct it slowly, working the bad habits out. As things are, nothing comes to mind but the crude method.”

Seo Woojin flinched.

“Sorry…?”

“Take enough of a beating and something will get through.”

Seo Woojin considered it seriously. Perhaps the time had come to put his talent for deceiving his grandfather and running away to use.

Following the thought, he found himself smiling a little.

Over the complaints in his head, his grandfather’s shadow settled. It was a familiarity so thorough it made him forget, briefly, that this was the Dark Alliance — an ease he knew far too well.

Perhaps that was why. Seo Woojin hurried to change the subject, saying the first thing that came to him.

“On another matter — there’s something I’ve been wondering.”

The Crazed Fiend gave an uninterested nod.

“What is it.”

He had said it only to say something, but as it happened, there was something to ask.

“Are there martial arts of that kind? Arts with side effects? Hm — it’s hard to explain, but for instance: periodically losing your reason and craving nothing but slaughter. Recovering at an unreasonable speed. That sort of thing.”

He had tossed the question off lightly.

The Crazed Fiend did not take it lightly at all.

Boooooom.

A tremor spread out with him at its center, and the shattered remains of the bamboo began to lift into the air.

None of it reached Seo Woojin’s eyes.

The old man’s killing intent had closed around his breathing.

“E-Eld… er…”

He barely got the word out past a stifled groan. There was no sign of the old man settling.

“I’ll ask you.”

If anything, the voice that came carried it more openly still.

“Is it you who learned it?”

Seo Woojin shook his head.

“Then who.”

Seo Woojin gritted his teeth and glared back. Biting his lip brought blood and pain — and with them, a little room out from under the pressure.

“I’ll need to hear why you’re reacting like this first.”

“…”

The Crazed Fiend held the glare, then answered shortly.

“What you have described is one of the typical side effects of a demonic art.”

“…What?”

“The martial art you spoke of.”

A bleak light came into the Crazed Fiend’s eyes.

“It’s a demonic art.”

(End of Chapter 42)