Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Chapter 87 : Returning to the Martial World

Returning to the Martial World

The statement that "the General Affairs Department would prepare everything meticulously" was true.

Though he had experienced it a few times before, their attention to detail that never left out a single small thing still inspired admiration.

In the not-too-large travel bag, all manner of items and dried rations were packed efficiently.

However, this time, there were some additional items compared to before.

"......"

Next to the travel bag lay a neatly folded set of martial garments, with an ornamental accessory and a letter placed on top.

Jeong-un picked up the letter and slowly scanned the neatly written characters.

-

After Yu Jeong-un finishes the mission in Kaifeng, he will participate in the Shaolin Assembly under the name Cheon Pung (天風), a disciple of Baek Sword Gate.

Baek Sword Gate is a sect that actually exists in Jinan, Shandong Province.

Outwardly, it upheld righteousness, but it was discovered that they had dealings with the Evil Faction, and thus, two years ago, received punishment from Heavenly Martial Hall.

However, since the wrongdoing was not severe, the sect was not eradicated; instead, relations have been maintained in case they become useful someday.

-

He had used a false name before.

At that time, it was to avoid drawing unnecessary attention and to prevent causing trouble for Huayeon Gate, where he had been hiding.

However, the situation was a bit different this time.

To put it lightly, it was almost like acting as a spy.

And not even against the Evil Faction, but against another righteous sect.

Of course, the ultimate goal was to apprehend the Fist God.

-

The clothing prepared for you is the martial attire of Baek Sword Gate.

The attire has been tailored and improved to suit a young hero who uses the sword, ensuring comfortable movement.

One thing to note is that you must wear the ornamental accessory placed next to it together with the attire.

There aren't many who would recognize your face, but for the sake of a perfect disguise, the chief strategist himself has cast a precise spell on the items.

Once you wear both the attire and the accessory, and infuse your true ki into the accessory, your appearance will subtly change; unless you reveal your identity yourself, no one will recognize you.

-

Having read up to this point, Jeong-un unconsciously turned his gaze to the martial attire.

'A spell?'

It was said that Zhuge Cheon-woo, the chief strategist of Heavenly Martial Hall, had cast it himself.

The Zhuge clan was said to be skilled in gate arrays and spells.

While he was not the head of the clan, Zhuge Cheon-woo held an important position in Heavenly Martial Hall, so a spell personally cast by him was sure to possess profound and effective properties.

Jeong-un picked up the light blue martial attire with both hands and unfolded it.

"......"

Upon doing so, he sensed a mysterious energy with his hands that he hadn't noticed by eye.

The feeling was somewhat different from gripping the sword guard containing internal energy.

Moreover, the cloth felt quite soft to the touch—while not silk, it was definitely crafted with devotion by yet another anonymous master tailor.

Heavenly Martial Hall spared no effort in equipping their warriors for missions.

Even the selection of the fabric for the garment must have had its purpose.

Jeong-un neatly refolded the attire and placed it back into the travel bag, then turned his gaze to the ornamental accessory beside it.

It wasn't particularly small, seemingly meant to be worn at the waist, and had a very antique appearance.

"......"

Jeong-un unconsciously let out a soft sigh. Naturally, he had never spent time adorning his appearance.

As a martial artist devoted to refining martial arts, he never felt the need.

Yet he already knew that not every martial artist was like him, regardless of martial attainment.

Heavenly Martial Hall was a gathering of the top rising stars of this era—recruited from across the vast Central Plains, each having passed difficult trials to enter.

Even so, there were quite a few who were preoccupied with their own appearance.

There were those whose dazzling accessories made the usual plain black martial attire seem drab in comparison.

Judging by those standards, this accessory was actually rather modest.

'Do I really have to go this far?'

Yet, the thought of wearing such an accessory at his waist made him feel a bit embarrassed.

Again, he was glad this was a solo mission; no one would recognize him anyway.

Putting the accessory deep into the travel bag, he finished his preparations.

The remainder of the letter briefly described his first assignment in Kaifeng, the first step in this double mission, and explained the method for contacting them after arrival at Shaolin.

Jeong-un read it over several times, memorizing it thoroughly.

Once he was sure he had fully committed it to memory, he burned the letter in the small lamp beside him.

In this way, he set out.

As he exited the main gate of Blue Scale Hall, the early dawn air, not yet fully warmed by the sun, seeped in coldly.

Jeong-un liked to depart on missions at dawn like this.

Another reason, besides avoiding unnecessary delay, was the vague memory of his very first martial world journey.

'It's different now.'

No longer was he the greenhorn who didn't know the ways of the world, sleeping by the roadside to avoid villages.

He was now a cold, seasoned martial artist who had severed the necks of many villains with a single sword.

He looked up at the faint blue sky for a moment and quietly murmured,

"Shall I go?"

So the boy set out alone into the martial world for the first time in a long while.

* * *

Kaifeng was a distance that would take several days and nights of nonstop hard riding to reach.

Jeong-un ran along the main road to maintain his pace.

He could have cut straight across by passing over some high mountains, but that would be an unnecessary waste of cultivated power.

No matter what the ostensible mission was, a mission was a mission: someone had surely requested support out of desperate need.

In the martial world, anything could happen, so conserving his energy was wisest.

Besides, Kaifeng was a very large city, having once been the capital of the Northern Song.

The canal ran through its center, and commerce and transportation flourished around it.

At one time, it had been called the city that never slept, its lights never extinguished, even at night.

Though it declined after several upheavals, it was rebuilt in the Ming era, and since then had become one of the Central Plains's foremost commercial cities—a vast city boasting a tremendous population.

"We have cotton coats that let raindrops roll right off without soaking you! I'm telling the truth! Come, come, come and feel for yourself!"

"Try a plate of perfectly made dumplings! Each filled with a fistful of pork! If you want to taste Kaifeng's best dumplings, this is the place!"

"Fresh fruit for sale! Pears, peaches, persimmons—pick out anything you see. All for a bargain!"

Jeong-un found himself standing in the midst of the city's market streets.

He'd heard that commerce flourished on the canal, and it was true.

The vendors, calling out for customers, didn't wear gloomy expressions.

The variety of goods displayed on their stalls was remarkable.

'It's probably not inferior to the famed Hangzhou after all.'

He'd heard that Hangzhou was so packed with crowds that you could barely set foot, but the scene before him in Kaifeng seemed no less bustling.

The cities he'd passed through before felt like children's sandcastles compared to this one's scale and vibrancy.

Even now, countless people jostled shoulder to shoulder nearby.

A few glanced at Jeong-un's face as they passed, but none looked at him with particular suspicion.

Seeing his fair skin, their expressions suggested they merely took him for some young master.

'The public order isn't bad either.'

In this harsh world, this was relatively stable.

In places where martial artists preyed on people, you could tell from the dark expressions alone—people drifting the streets with dead, lifeless eyes.

Maybe that's why everyone wanted to settle in big cities.

Even if life was tough, at least everything wasn't stolen from you.

After studying some faces and outfits, Jeong-un resumed walking.

Making his way out of the market and toward the city's outskirts—

At last, he arrived at his destination for this mission.

White Stone Teahouse (白石茶樓).

Though only about two stories high, the pavilion was spacious and antique looking.

The large signboard above the gate was burnished and shining. Two doorkeepers stood out front, evidently disciplined martial artists.

As he approached, one stepped forward.

"Who are you?"

"I am from Heavenly Martial Hall."

"......!"

Startled, they exchanged glances, then turned back to Jeong-un.

"If you're really from Heavenly Martial Hall..."

Before he could complete his sentence, Jeong-un took out his identity token and showed it.

It was the one he'd been issued by the General Affairs Department on admission.

It was a thick wooden token, about the size of a finger joint, inscribed in sharp calligraphy with the emblem of Heavenly Martial Hall and Jeong-un's name.

The surface was smooth and glossy, lacquered and oiled multiple times. Its appearance alone was proof against suspicion.

"R-real..."

"Wait, alone?"

A hushed exchange of surprise followed. Jeong-un waited calmly.

Realizing their rudeness, the one who had stepped forward quickly cupped his fists with respect.

"If you would wait a moment, I will report inside."

"Thank you."

Meanwhile, the other hurried into the building.

Jeong-un returned the cupped hands gesture and waited patiently.

He understood why they were surprised—he was alone, and even younger than expected.

Even though Heavenly Martial Hall was a cradle for rising stars, Jeong-un was two or three years below even their average age.

After a brief wait, the martial artist who had run inside returned and spoke to Jeong-un.

"Please come in!"

Following him inside, Jeong-un entered right into the spacious pavilion, passed through it, and exited through another door on the opposite side.

"......"

A well-tended garden appeared.

True to its name, neatly hewn square white stones paved the path, and a small pond came into view after a short walk.

The layout was unique.

The garden was enclosed by four pavilions facing each other, including the one they just passed through.

It was a bit inefficient, but certainly elegant.

After all, it was a teahouse, not an inn selling alcohol and music, but a place serving tea to guests.

No ordinary commoner would visit—a hub for those with wealth and power.

"This way."

Crossing the garden, they stopped in front of the opposite pavilion.

The doorkeeper bowed there, signaling this was as far as he would go and waited for Jeong-un to enter.

Opening the door, Jeong-un stepped inside.

"... My word, it's true."

A man with a sword at his waist was waiting for him.

"Did they take our request for a joke, or are they that confident in your skills?"

As he muttered, he strode over, eyes staring hard at Jeong-un.

"......?"

Jeong-un, undisturbed by the man's flustered look, calmly sized him up in return.

Around thirty, perhaps?

A handsome man in fluttering white robes with piercing eyes.

When he got closer—

"......"

The man said nothing, still staring at Jeong-un with a subtle expression.

His lips barely moved, as if muttering to himself inwardly.

This was unmistakably rude, but Jeong-un wasn't offended.

'A group capable of running such a teahouse in a big city, yet they sent a boy just out of childhood—he must think they're being snubbed.'

He could see that much now. Calmly lowering his head, Jeong-un offered a composed cupped hands salute.

"Heavenly Martial Hall's Blue Scale Corps, Yu Jeong-un."

"......!"

The man's eyes widened in astonishment.