Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Chapter 91 : Iron-Blood Gate

Iron-Blood Gate

When martial artists clashed with swords, a deafening roar would erupt.

Especially if they wielded their cultivation skillfully and knew how to extend their true ki to the tip of the sword blade, it was even more so.

As sword blades imbued with cultivation collided, the resulting sound was like a thunderclap.

Such impacts would inevitably turn the vicinity into chaos.

Even when a fight broke out in an empty field, thick clouds of dust would swirl up, sometimes causing a small sandstorm.

Let alone in a cramped indoor space, during a chaotic melee outnumbered by many—no further explanation was needed.

Yet the current scene was different.

As the men charged with loud shouts, several streaks of light flashed sharply.

That was the extent of it.

Fresh blood splattered across all the walls.

Clack.

With the last flash of light, the sword returned to its scabbard.

The fourth corpse, dead before it even hit the floor, staggered as if it hadn't realized death had come.

The body tried to regain its balance, but soon collapsed limply.

Thud.

"Mi-m-madness...!"

The last man trembled, hands shaking as he still gripped his sword.

He mumbled in disbelief.

He was too frozen to even consider fleeing; his legs were completely paralyzed.

"Don't worry. I won't cut you."

Jeong-un glanced at him, then turned his body and walked back to his original seat.

He turned his back to an armed opponent. It was a pose of total defenselessness.

"..."

Yet the man could not even consider making a surprise attack.

He had witnessed an overwhelming sight in a split second. His face had already turned ashen.

'Damn it.'

Jeong-un noticed the small bloodstains on his own sleeve and gave an expression of regret.

The clothes he wore were not meant for single use here.

More so, it was an item that the chief strategist Zhuge Cheon-woo of the Heavenly Martial Hall had personally enchanted. It should have been properly used and returned.

At that moment, the black long robe of the still-standing man's sword caught Jeong-un's attention.

"You."

"...?"

"Bring that over."

"Wh-what...?"

"That long robe."

The man made a puzzled expression at the unexpected request, but flinched at Jeong-un's icy gaze and hurriedly took off his long robe.

He cautiously approached, eyeing him, and carefully threw it in front of Jeong-un.

Rustle.

Jeong-un picked it up and draped it over his blue martial uniform. It was a black long robe that reached all the way to the ankles.

Seeing that the dead men had worn it too, it seemed to be the standard uniform of the dark path group.

Soon, he sat down again at the head seat.

The man hovered awkwardly, unable to stand or sit, his knees bent in discomfort.

Around him, the floor was slick with still-warm blood.

"Sit."

At Jeong-un's words, the man obediently sat down. He had no intention of resisting.

"What is it you want?"

His tone had already become polite before anyone realized it.

"..."

Jeong-un stared at his pale face in silence for a moment.

The true objective was never such a low-ranking thug. There was much he needed to find out.

'There's no way a guy like this would know the location of the sect leader.'

Jeong-un had come here knowing this was a pleasure house managed by the Iron-Blood Gate.

Yang Se-ok had told Jeong-un in detail all the information he knew about the Musan Group and the three subordinate sects.

It was an open secret that Divine Wind Pavilion belonged to the dark path. That was why these men were drinking so leisurely. The Iron-Blood Gate, too, saw no reason to hide the fact, perhaps as a means of flaunting their power.

That these men were drinking on the highest, most luxurious floor of the pleasure house was for the same reason.

It was a silent warning to guests: don't stir up trouble unless you want a sword in your gut.

'Fortune favored me.'

However, it wasn't as if the Iron-Blood Gate group occupied this place every day.

That was why Jeong-un had extended his vital ki to sense energy every time he ascended a floor.

Had these men not happened to be present today, he would have wasted his time.

Then, the man, anxiously watching Jeong-un, spoke first.

"You—you must have a reason, since you haven't cut me down."

"...?"

"I'll cooperate with anything, just please spare my life."

Though his comrades had just been killed, there was no trace of anger on his face.

Rather, he straightened his posture and begged for his life in a manner that seemed utterly natural—he must have done this more than once.

Such was the behavior of dark path thugs in the city. Pure survival of the fittest.

Bowing before the strong meant nothing to them.

"..."

Jeong-un looked down at the man's trembling hands clutching the floor. At length, he spoke in a calm tone.

"First, let's make one thing clear."

"...?"

The man looked up in confusion. His gaze met Jeong-un's pitch-black eyes staring down with cold indifference.

"...!"

He hurriedly lowered his head again.

'A youngster with this level of martial skill. He must be from a renowned martial clan. But was there such a person in Kaifeng?'

Lying prone, he racked his brains desperately. To survive long in the martial world meant staying abreast of the current powers.

Relying on a single sword was now laughable. The cunning and quick-witted survived in the end.

It was no different among the dark path. Only those whose deaths brought no consequences could be killed without incurring grudges.

'An expert from out of town, and alone at that... I really picked the wrong fight.'

While the man mulled over his thoughts, Jeong-un asked again.

"I came here as a guest. I paid a not-insignificant sum for food and drink. Yet the fare I received was disgraceful."

Bang.

Jeong-un struck the table with his palm, sending the dishes tumbling to the floor.

"On top of that, disciples of the sect owning this place picked a fight with me first. All I did was defend myself. Didn't I?"

"..."

The man glanced at the corpses scattered beside him. Seeing this, Jeong-un continued.

"Answer me. You can tell me if I'm wrong."

"N-no, you're entirely right, great hero."

"Good."

Jeong-un thus granted legitimacy to his use of force. Even if it was somewhat forced.

In any case, in the martial world, justice was determined by the strength of one's skill.

"Is this the only pleasure house run by the Iron-Blood Gate?"

"No. Including this place, there are five in total."

The man replied quickly. There was no sign of lying. He seemed to be genuinely trying his best to survive.

"Among them, where does this Divine Wind Pavilion stand?"

"Divine Wind Pavilion is the largest of the pleasure houses managed by the Iron-Blood Gate. It's also the greatest source of revenue."

"For such a claim, the alcohol was terrible."

"Our pride lies in the courtesans. If you'd just say the word—"

"No, that's fine."

Jeong-un waved a hand to cut him off.

"I'm more curious about you lot."

"...?"

"Are you one of the main forces here?"

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'main force,' but there is no one below me here."

'Wrong target.'

He inwardly sighed.

This meant the lowest of the low.

After all, it was unlikely a main fighter from a sect would be assigned just to show off at a pleasure house, even if it was the dark path.

"Then you wouldn't have seen the Iron-Blood Gate Leader yourself, would you?"

"No, I have seen him. He visits here about once a week to spend the night."

"Wasn't that the story of the Musan Group Leader?"

"Th-that..."

He trailed off without realizing.

It was hardly a secret that the Musan Group Leader's whereabouts were unknown.

In fact, it would be odder for someone at that level to have their location be public knowledge.

But the information that he spent each night at a different pleasure house of his domain was surprisingly specific.

That was truly an internal matter of the Musan Group.

Of course, one could dig it up with effort. Even the Yang Clan knew that much.

The problem was, the young master in front of him was an outsider.

'He's definitely from out of town.'

That face was unforgettable after a single glance.

If there had been someone like that in Kaifeng, rumors would already be rife.

He was born and bred in Kaifeng and could be sure of it. This man was from outside Kaifeng.

'Just who is he really...?'

He had approached with foreknowledge of the Iron-Blood Gate and Musan Group, and with such supreme martial skill.

The man realized the one before him was no ordinary individual.

"..."

Jeong-un also noticed the man's change in complexion.

But he didn't care.

Blood had already been spilled. Jeong-un had crossed the threshold into this dark path society.

"Our Gate Leader does the same, following after the Musan Group Leader. He's always admired him."

"What is the Iron-Blood Gate Leader's name?"

"He's called Neung Ji-seok. Around here, he's known as the Butcher, Knife-Killing Child."

"And when is he next coming here?"

The man flinched. He had instantly realized the intent behind Jeong-un's offhanded question.

But that was short-lived. He also knew he could betray not a hint of self-doubt or judgment right now.

"Two—two days from now."

"How do I know that's true?"

"I have no reason to lie. Even if you spare me, I'm a dead man already."

"...?"

"In the Iron-Blood Gate, betrayal is death. Even if you let me go, I'll have to flee Kaifeng as soon as I leave this room. It's safer to tell you the truth so you won't come after me, so why would I lie?"

It was a logical answer, though his voice was trembling.

It did not sound like the nervousness of lying; he simply seemed terrified by his situation.

Didn't he have reason? Only moments ago, he was drinking with his fellows. Now he faced exile from his lifelong home.

'Two days, huh.'

Jeong-un shook his head inwardly.

Regardless of whether the man was telling the truth, he couldn't afford to simply wait two days.

There was not enough time. He could not take such a leisurely approach.

Jeong-un spoke at length.

"No need to run. I will hide the fact that you helped me."

"... Excuse me?"

The man replied blankly, not understanding.

Jeong-un continued.

"As soon as I leave, stab your thigh with that sword. Then you'll be the sole survivor and no one will suspect you."

"...!"

"In return, use it as a report to them and deliver my message clearly. I'll return in the morning. Make sure everything is prepared for my visit. Morning."

With that, Jeong-un whirled his long robe and stood up.

At that moment, noisy footsteps sounded from below.

Whining servants must have returned, leading the guards up.

"I remember your face. I spared your life and gave you a path to live. Break your promise and I'll ensure you pay the proper price."

The man nodded frantically. As Jeong-un approached the large latticed window, the man urgently called out,

"At least—at least your honored name...!"

Jeong-un slowly turned and, frowning, looked at the man. The man flinched and added apologetically,

"I—I need something to report."

Jeong-un gazed at his face in silence, then finally spoke.

"... Dong-ryong."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell them Dong-ryong."

Having said that, he stepped up onto the window frame and leaped out.

He landed softly on the ground—behind him, a shrill scream erupted.

"Aaagh!"

It was the man's voice. He would likely keep the bargain.