15 – Staff Demon (3)

Within the thick water mist.

Carrying a sack of money over his shoulder, Gon-gwi walked along, humming a tune.

“The wind sighs bleakly; the waters of the Yi River are cold.
A brave man departs—never to return.”

The wind is bleak, and the waters of the Yi River are cold.
A brave man departs—never to return.

A tune so unruly that not a single note among gong, shang, jue, zhi, or yu matched properly.

Yet Gon-gwi seemed in high spirits, even swaying his shoulders as he walked.

Whooooo—

The wind blowing in from beyond the mist grew stronger by the moment.

Each time it did, the surrounding willow leaves whipped about like a ghost’s hair.

Before he knew it, Gon-gwi came to a stop.

A towering cliff that seemed tens of thousands of jang high.

And spanning it precariously, a long rope bridge.

But that was not what blocked Gon-gwi’s path.

Creak…

Before the single-rope bridge, which looked as though it were suspended in midair due to the dense mist, a lone shadow suddenly emerged, as if it had been waiting for him.

Creak… creak…

Whether ghost or something else, the shadow slipped smoothly back into the mist.

As if beckoning Gon-gwi to follow it inside.

“Heh heh—”

Gon-gwi pulled his bamboo hat low.

Then he set the sack of money he was carrying down by the edge of the cliff.

Clatter—

Leaving the sack behind, Gon-gwi followed the shadow’s summons, stepping into the mist and onto the dizzying single-rope bridge.

Creak… creak… creak…

Each step he took made the bridge sway dangerously.

Eventually, Gon-gwi stopped again at the midpoint of the bridge.

The shadow that had vanished into the mist earlier now stood there, facing him.

Gon-gwi spoke.

“I thought I might’ve been mistaken, but it seems I wasn’t.”

He was staring straight through the mist at Chui’s pale face.

“I thought you were a ghost… but you’re human.”

“….”

“You’re a stablehand, aren’t you? Why have you come looking for me? Because I humiliated your beloved?”

Gon-gwi waved his hand dismissively at Chui.

“When I spat on Ho Yeyang’s face, I saw it. Your body trembled, just a little.”

“….”

“If you came to avenge the woman you fancy, you’ve come to the wrong place. She was never humiliated by me in the first place.”

With an indifferent expression, Gon-gwi continued.

“Suppose you give someone money, and they refuse to accept it. Then whose money is it?”

“….”

“Still yours, of course. Same logic. I spat on her, but she did not accept my spit. That means the spit is still mine.”

“….”

“In Buddhism there’s a saying: ‘Wherever you are, be the master.’ And in the distant Western Regions, there’s a saying: ‘If struck on the right cheek, turn the left.’ Both mean the same thing—never forget your mastery over yourself. If someone insults you and you get angry, you lose that mastery. But if you refuse the insult and respond with composure, the initiative remains yours.”

“….”

“That girl let my insult flow away like the highest good, like water. In the end, my insult had nowhere to go, and no one was harmed. So tell me—why, and what, are you trying to avenge? It’s all meaningless.”

Gon-gwi shook his head.

Then Chui spoke.

“Maybe it’s because you half-assed your temple meals. You’ve got a long tongue.”

Then—

Creak…

Chui briefly stated his business, blocking Gon-gwi’s path.

“Hand over the money.”

“….”

Hearing this, Gon-gwi looked momentarily dazed.

Then he burst into hearty laughter.

“That’s something I haven’t heard in nearly forty years. You’re the first since the Lord of the Sado Alliance to say something like that to me.”

Chui did not answer with words.

Clang!

A dull-black spear with no luster appeared in Chui’s hand.

Seeing it, Gon-gwi let out a low exclamation.

“A fine spear. What’s its name?”

“It doesn’t have one.”

“A spear worthy of being a family treasure even in a minor clan, and it has no name? Let me give it one. Death-Severing Spear, or Soul-Capturing Spear. How about it?”

As he chatted on, Gon-gwi raised his own pole.

A long, hexagonal shaft.

Like Chui’s spear, it was pitch black and devoid of shine.

“This used to be a spear, you know. But after the blade broke off, it became a staff.”

“….”

“Still, it’s made of black iron, so it’s tougher than it looks. A bit heavy, though. Heh heh heh—”

Gon-gwi leveled his black staff at Chui.

“If this thing’s blade were still intact, I wouldn’t be called Staff Demon—I’d be Spear Demon instead. Don’t you—”

But his banter did not last long.

Whoosh—

The mist parted violently, and through the opening, Chui’s spear shot straight forward.

Seeing crimson energy streaming from the spear tip, Gon-gwi’s expression instantly stiffened.

Clang!

Spear and staff collided midair.

Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang—clang! Shing!

In an instant, dozens of exchanges were made.

Ting! Tiiing! Rip—

Several ropes and planks forming the bridge were damaged.

Creeeak—

The wind picked up at just the wrong moment, and the bridge began to sway even more violently.

Whiiing! Bang!

One of the planks forming the bridge floor was blown away by the wind.

Only the rotted ropes reached out toward their longtime companion, but could do nothing more than flail.

“I underestimated Hojeongmun.”

Gon-gwi laughed heartily as he swung his staff.

“To think a mere stablehand could be this strong. Heh heh heh—”

“….”

Chui did not respond to Gon-gwi’s chatter.

He simply stomped hard, making the rope bridge lurch.

“!?”

As the footing suddenly gave way beneath him, Gon-gwi staggered midair.

The bridge writhed like a centipede, forcing him to choose his footing again. That momentary delay slowed his recovery of balance, which in turn disrupted his next movements.

And then—

Shrrk—

A spear blade twisted in like a ghost, slipping through the tiniest gap.

Faced with that elusive killing intent that pierced even a fleeting opening, Gon-gwi leapt upward in alarm.

But when he tried to counterattack, Chui was already gone from sight.

“…Ho?”

Gon-gwi’s expression changed abruptly.

Tap—

Chui’s footsteps sounded from directly below.

Lazy Donkey Rolling.

A move resembling a sluggish donkey rolling on the ground.

But when Chui was the one performing it, the story was different.

Whoosh—

From below, a spear shot upward, vertically, aiming straight for Gon-gwi’s groin.

“Crazy!?”

Gon-gwi hurriedly pulled his waist back.

But in doing so, he failed to guard the tip of his chin, which the spear blade lightly grazed as it passed.

Rip!

His chin split vertically, fresh blood spraying out.

“Heh heh heh—now that was close.”

Gon-gwi retreated.

An ordinary first-rate master would have been skewered from groin to crown by now.

Even he, a veteran at the peak of mastery, had nearly been pierced from chin to the top of his head.

“Normally, a spear could never come in from that angle, so I let my guard down. Heh heh—still, isn’t it a bit much for men to aim for each other’s groins? You crazy bastard.”

Gon-gwi willingly rose to Chui’s provocation.

Whoom-whoom-whoom—

The heavy staff drew in the mist, whipping it into a vortex.

Using that momentum, Gon-gwi kicked off a plank.

But Chui cleanly avoided the frontal clash Gon-gwi charged into.

Phlegm—spat!

Blood-tinged spit flew through the air.

“!?”

Gon-gwi frowned as he saw the spit Chui had expelled.

“You’ve got more of a grudge than you look like.”

He lowered his head to dodge it.

At that moment, Chui kicked at the ducking Gon-gwi.

Whoom—

The distance was too great; the kick sliced through empty air.

But—

Rattle-rattle-rattle!

The caltrops sewn in rows along Chui’s trouser hem spilled out all at once.

“This lunatic!”

For the first time, panic crossed Gon-gwi’s face.

He jumped back in haste, swinging his staff to sweep the caltrops away.

At that very moment—

Chui leapt into the air, flipped, and kicked again.

The spit he had expelled earlier was still flying through the air.

Thud!

The kick struck the spit, sending it down toward the ground—

Splat!

—straight into Gon-gwi’s face.

“Ghk!?”

Gon-gwi shut his eyes reflexively.

Sssss—

It burned.

The spit burned.

That spit was strangely stinging and painful.

As if the spit itself were a virulent poison.

Whoom—

Even while rubbing his eyes, Gon-gwi swung his staff.

But Chui closed the distance, dodging the staff with ghostlike movements.

He looked like an evil spirit emerging from the mist.

“What’s a spearman doing closing the distance!?”

Gon-gwi raised his knee toward the charging Chui.

At that instant, Chui released his spear.

‘A spearman abandoning his spear!?’

In the moment Gon-gwi was shocked—

Thud!

Chui instantly pulled out a hammer from his robes and smashed it into Gon-gwi’s knee.

“Ugh!?”

Gon-gwi jerked his leg back.

He had avoided the worst, but it grazed him.

Like the nights of childhood when growing pains robbed him of sleep, his knee throbbed madly.

Snap!

Chui caught the spear that had flown into the air.

Only then did it become clear—a translucent silk thread ran through the center of the spear shaft, its other end tightly wound around Chui’s wrist.

“….”

Gon-gwi frowned deeply.

Those who wield weapons tend to rely entirely on them, so every movement inevitably revolves around the weapon.

And when using a weapon, some part of the body is always left idle.

Swing a sword with the right hand, and the left hand idles. Grip a spear with both hands, and one leg must idle.

…but the enemy before him was different.

This stablehand boy was a weapon in his entirety.

Every part of his body spewed hidden weapons; every movement discarded dignity and form without hesitation, devoted solely to killing.

It was like watching a killing machine optimized for slaughter in a pitch-black trench at night, a desperate grapple in a mud pit.

“What kind of demon did you crawl out from!?”

Gon-gwi roared.

Any trace of composure had long since vanished from his face.

Clang!

Spear and staff crashed together at the center of the rope bridge.

Creeeak—

A contest of cold steel against cold steel.

Two sharpened edges locked together, neither yielding an inch.

Then Chui spoke.

“The spear has been called the king of all weapons since ancient times.”

“….”

“The staff is nothing more than an imitation—a spear that’s lost its blade.”

Chui’s gaze, now dyed blood-red, pierced into Gon-gwi’s eyes and straight through to his brain.

“Just like you—who lost all your fangs and fell to being a dog of the Sado Alliance.”

“You bastard!”

Gon-gwi’s reverse scale was struck.

Boom! Clatter-clatter-clang!

The locked spear tip and staff tip slid past each other.

At the same time—

…! …! …!

Each weapon’s end drove into the other’s immediate space.

Thud!

One struck true.

The other did not.

The difference was no more than a hair’s breadth.

 

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