Martial Wild West

Gam Sang-cheong’s eyes were aflame with a burning red intensity.

With sword in hand, he strode onwards, leaving the lifeless horse in his wake, halting about ten meters from Jang Geon. Within the fiery depths of Sang-cheong’s eyes, Jang Geon could discern emotions of fury, loathing, and oddly enough, a tinge of sadness.

His hair was a wild mess from his frantic horse ride, his garments bore the stains of his comrades’ exhaustion and the horse’s weariness, and his body pulsed with the might of his internal energy, drawn out to its maximum. Jang Geon recalled their sole conversation, where they had confirmed the name of Gam Sun-deok.

He posed an unexpected question.

“Why, Jin Yang-seok was taggin’ along with ya, was he?”

“Why ya fussin’? You just tryin’ to kill some time?” 

Jang Geon balanced himself on one leg, with an awkward lean, his left hand clutching the sheath at his waist. He gestured towards the defeated thieves with a nod of his head.

“He was one of their lot. Reckoned he might’ve bit the dust.”

Sang-cheong’s response was a growl.

“What’s it to ya if he’s breathin’ or belly up? The lad was hollerin’ for help, his brother was starin’ down the hangman’s noose. Instead of chewin’ the fat ’bout such trifles, you oughta be worryin’ ’bout savin’ your own hide.”

A chuckle escaped Jang Geon as he spat out a mouthful of dust accumulated from his horse ride.

“You’re a hard one, ain’t ya?”

“My steel’s gonna feel a heap harder ‘gainst your gullet, ya yellow-bellied varmint.”

Following his declaration, Sang-cheong started to lower his stance. He took a significant step forward with his left foot, shifting his weight to the right foot, and raised the sword in his right hand to his chest. His left hand was aimed at Jang Geon, drawing an arc of an impending sword stroke. This was a thrusting posture.

Jang Geon’s stance wasn’t as pronounced. He stood sideways, facing forward only with his head, the sword in his right hand resting on the left side of his waist, near the mouth of the sheath. While the blade was not inserted into the sheath, it essentially took on the ‘Baldo’ stance.

Sang-cheong, his body vibrating with the surge of his internal energy, locked eyes with Jang Geon, who stood as serene as a placid lake.

Sang-cheong’s breaths grew heavier, making the blade in his hand quiver subtly, seemingly emitting a faint glow. His forward foot dug deeply into the earth, leaving a significant imprint. His stance grew lower, his growl more animalistic. His eyes, aflame with intensity, bore an ominous glint.

Under the vast expanse of the sky and the sprawling wilderness, the scorching sun and the leisurely drifting clouds, seemingly disconnected from the earthly concerns, bore silent witness to the confrontation.

At some point, unable to restrain his bubbling internal energy, Sang-cheong released a guttural roar.

“Ahhhh!”

The exact moment was unclear, whether it was amidst his cry or at its conclusion, but the two men whisked past each other in a swift move.

A sizable horizontal gash appeared on Jang Geon’s left cheek, from which blood began to seep. He glanced at his blade and noted a significant notch in the middle of the slender weapon.

“Darn it.”

Swearing, he grasped his sword with both hands and swiftly spun around. He hadn’t lost, but he hadn’t managed to wound Sang-cheong either. He caught sight of Sang-cheong also turning quickly, a thin streak of red marking his neck. It was a shallow cut.

In contrast to Jang Geon’s composed demeanor, Gam Sang-cheong, having expended a surge of his internal energy, bore a frenzied grin. Frothy saliva dripped from his mouth, and an intense flush spread across his face and hands.

The blade, which had previously emitted a dim glow, now shone with clarity. The crimson light coursing along the sword was the manifestation of its energy.

“You wild hoss, just how much internal energy you got in ya?” Jang Geon murmured, an ominous grin forming unconsciously on his face. Even the recognized masters of this region did not typically utilize their sword energy with such abandon. It was generally sufficient to strike down an opponent without depleting their energy in such a manner. Some even mocked it as a foolish act, as though they couldn’t handle their own energy.

In the end, whether during his martial arts training in Central Plains or his recent years in these lands, Jang Geon had never witnessed actual sword energy. Facing this horrifying embodiment of raw internal energy, he couldn’t comprehend why he was smiling. His heart merely pounded with exhilaration.

Sang-cheong released another battle cry and lunged forward, his sword arcing downward. Jang Geon held his sword tightly with both hands, deflecting the attack. Sparks erupted at the collision of the blade and sword energy, and another chunk was chipped from his sword.

Sang-cheong, his eyes seemingly ablaze, swung his sword with reckless abandon, powered by his overflowing internal energy. The precision and speed of his initial attack were gone, replaced by sheer force. However, his movements were overly simplistic, and he seemed to have forgotten even the basic principles of swordplay. Despite the increased difficulty, Jang Geon was able to parry the attacks, gripping his sword with both hands.

“Hahaha! Hahaha!”

Gam Sang-cheong, seemingly lost in madness, cackled maniacally as he brandished his sword. The grotesque sight of his bursting blood vessels and the subsequent flow of bloody tears was truly horrifying.

After fending off several more of Sang-cheong’s irrational assaults, Jang Geon felt the battle grow monotonous. The brutish yet simple attacks of a deranged man were too predictable. Despite the notches on his sword, the energy-infused strikes couldn’t sever his blade in one fell swoop.

Jang Geon saw no need to prolong this battle.

With swift precision, he retaliated against Sang-cheong’s downward strike, guiding his blade along the adversary’s sword to redirect it. As Sang-cheong’s weapon veered off course, Jang Geon’s blade aimed for his throat, slicing deeply. Caught off guard, Sang-cheong instinctively hooked his sword onto Jang Geon’s blade and hoisted it up in a basic defense maneuver.

As a result, Jang Geon and Sang-cheong stood face to face, their arms brandishing weapons in a human silhouette. Despite the raw energy around him, Sang-cheong’s wide, terrified eyes were locked onto Jang Geon’s face. Observing his fear, Jang Geon smirked, released his grip on his sword, and launched a punch towards Sang-cheong’s side.

“Ugh!”

A swift barrage of punches ensued, targeting his opposite flank, chin, and solar plexus. Their weapons, bereft of support, clattered onto the ground. Sang-cheong staggered backward, clutching his injured spots, seemingly struggling to regain his composure. Jang Geon stood stoically at the scene of his assault, observing him.

Sang-cheong, managing to lift his head, stiffened his body.

“You, you blackguard! Throwin’ your blade aside, what a lowdown- Hack!”

He suddenly spat out blood, even though Jang Geon had not launched a fresh attack. He attempted to stem the flow of blood with his hand, but it seeped through his fingers. As he felt the warmth of his own blood and the sensation of torn tissue, his face contorted in horror.

“You, you! This here’s, Heavenly Fist… Emperor’s martial arts…!”

“Ain’t no Heavenly Fist. It’s a martial art of my own brewin’.”

“What in tarnation, what hogwash is that…?”

Jang Geon had no inclination to respond to his question. He nonchalantly shrugged, then delivered a spinning back kick. The kick connected with Gam Sang-cheong’s chin, spinning him around with a resounding crack. His eyes rolled back into his head.

Listening to the thud of the falling body, Jang Geon dusted off his trousers. As he glanced at the lifeless form of Gam Sang-cheong, he observed the slow spread of blood. The blood was as hot and viscous as the sun-baked ground.

For a brief moment, he stared at the corpse, then turned to retrieve his fallen sword. The jagged edge of the blade seemed more suited for sawing rather than slicing. He wiped it clean and let out a sigh.

“Time for a new one.”

After returning his sword to its sheath, Jang Geon examined his body for any severe wounds while sighing once more. Then he glanced towards the hill, scattered with bodies. Single-handedly defeating thirty thieves, including two experts, was a feat any martial artist would be proud of.

However, it also implied that he had ended the lives of thirty individuals in one location. There wasn’t a separate category for mass murderers. As he gazed upon the wilderness with a heavy heart, Jojo sauntered up to him. Jojo playfully nudged Jang Geon’s arm with a light kick.

Jang Geon chuckled at his gesture.

“Why you horsin’ around? You winded from that earlier sprint?”

Jang Geon consoled Jojo, who was nudging his arm, by patting its neck, then moved towards the corpse to decapitate Gam Sang Cheong. As he gripped his sword’s hilt, his attention was drawn towards the distant western wilderness. Despite his weariness, Jang Geon sharpened his focus.

Two riders were charging towards him, their horses churning up a dust storm. They donned large straw hats and ample windbreakers, making it impossible to identify them. Yet, Jang Geon had an inkling that they weren’t additional bandits.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t afford to lower his guard based on a hunch. Grasping his sheath with his left hand, he positioned himself to face the incoming duo. His eyes squinted against the harsh sunlight and the dust stirred up by their approach. Soon, they were in proximity.

They halted thirty meters away. Jang Geon perceived a hint of surprise in them. Justifiably so. More than a dozen corpses lay strewn around them. They scanned the surroundings as if seeking Jang Geon’s allies.

After a brief moment, the one with a sword strapped to her back stepped forward and inquired, “Did ya kill all of them?”

Her voice was deeper than most women’s but not unpleasant to the ear. Jang Geon, shielding his eyes from the sunlight, collected the dust in his mouth and spat before replying, “Yup.”

Jang Geon noticed her fleeting glance at the sword at his waist. She remained silent, perched on her horse, scrutinizing Jang Geon. Then, quite abruptly, she dismounted.

“Senior!”

The individual next to her sounded alarmed and called out, but she steadily advanced towards Jang Geon. Ten meters away. A distance easily covered by a master with an extended arm. Without any hesitation, she strode up and stood there.

With the same decisiveness she had shown in her approach, she untied the strap beneath her chin and removed her straw hat. A prominent scar stretched across her face, with other minor ones dotting her cheeks and jawline, all visible under the bright sunlight. Despite the scars, she was undeniably a beautiful woman with striking features.

She met Jang Geon’s gaze, squinting against the sunlight, mirroring his stance. They both stood in silence, studying each other for a moment.

Eventually, the woman broke the silence, “Name’s Jeok Se-in, patrol number seventy-one of the Martial Alliance. And you?”

“Jang… Jang Geon.”

Jeok Se-in’s eyes scanned the bodies strewn on the ground, “Gam Sang-cheong?”

“You oughta put forth somethin’ first.”

Her gaze returned to Jang Geon, “What?”

“Don’t the patrols carry some kind of badges?”

At his words, she nodded and produced a hexagonal badge from her chest, presenting it to Jang Geon. The inscription ‘Martial’ and the tiny number ‘seventy-one’ were engraved on it. Once Jang Geon confirmed its authenticity, Jeok Se-in tucked the badge back into her chest and headed straight to Gam Sang-cheong’s corpse. She rolled over the body and began to rummage through the blood-soaked clothes.

“What… what are ya doing?”

“We’re searching for the secret martial arts manual. That’s why we were tasked to chase these fellas down.”

Suddenly, another man, who had dismounted his horse, approached with a smile on his face. The young man’s eyes were small, appearing as slits, and their corners drooped, lending him a dull appearance. As Jang Geon was trying to make sense of the situation, Jeok Se-in extracted a slim book from Gam Sang-cheong’s belongings.

She quickly flipped through the book, then tossed it to the man.

“Got it. Burn it.”

The man nodded, placed the book he received on the ground, retrieved a small metal bottle from his belongings, and doused the book in its contents. Judging by the smell, it was oil. He then procured a flint and instantly ignited it. The flame didn’t catch on quickly, indicating the poor quality of the oil. It produced a harsh, acrid smell.

After ensuring the book was aflame, Jeok Se-in returned to Jang Geon.

“Looks like you’re the one who plugged the third squad leader of them outlaws, a day’s ride west from here. If Gam Sang-cheong’s met his maker, then Lee Mang-gyeong must be pushin’ up daisies too.”

“Lee Mang-gyeong?”

“The second squad leader of them outlaws.”

Jang Geon jerked his head towards the hill.

“He’s over yonder.”

Jeok Se-in nodded and called out to the man who had been managing the fire.

“San Ho, scout for any other useful bits.”

“Yes…? Oh, right. If my senior commands, I gotta follow suit.”

The man named San Ho, appearing disgruntled, scratched his nose and remounted his horse, making his way towards the hill. His horse seemed to match his disposition, moving in a leisurely pace, neither trotting nor galloping.

Observing Jeok Se-in give a slow nod, Jang Geon initiated the conversation.

“Were you trailin’ these varmints?”

“Yup, we were. Ah, and thank ya kindly for dealin’ with these no-goods. That was our job, but we showed up a smidge late.”

“Hold your thanks, I got a question ’bout this here Martial Alliance patrol.”

Jeok Se-in nodded.

“Fire away. I’ll give ya a straight answer.”

“Is there a chance of a reward from your end?”

“…Reward?”

Jang Geon lifted his right hand and slowly stroked his chin.

“These fellas had prices on their heads, didn’t they? But I ain’t got no clue where this Martial Alliance Branch’s holed up round these parts, and who else would be mad enough to tote ’round dozens of lopped-off heads?”

“Ah… That’s a fair point. Luckily, I got the power to okay that. But all I got on me right now are promissory notes… To turn ’em into cold hard cash, you’ll have to hit up the Merchant Association or a city of the Empire later on.”

At the mention of promissory notes, Jang Geon hesitated momentarily, but eventually gave a nod. He would be able to exchange them at some point if he held onto them. After all, even if he found a branch of the Martial Alliance, if they didn’t possess sufficient cash, they would issue him promissory notes.

Jeok Se-in retrieved a thick bundle of paper from her saddlebag and handed it to him.

“I’ll throw in the reward for puttin’ down the bandits and actin’ in the patrol’s place. You’ve done some fine work, Warrior Jang.”

“Warrior Jang?” Jang Geon found the title amusing and casually began to count the stack of paper. They were small denomination promissory notes issued by the Empire and the Merchant Guild – paper currency. As he fended off the turmoil originating from within and beyond the fortress, Jang Geon could sense the enduring power of the empire that had prevailed for a thousand years, even out here, thousands of miles away from the imperial capital.

In any case, he felt pleased about gaining a substantial sum from bandits he initially deemed worthless. Tapping the stack of promissory notes against the palm of his other hand, Jang Geon stowed them into Jojo’s saddlebag and turned to Jeok Se-in.

“Anything else you need?”

“… I reckon not.”

“Good. Then.”

Without wasting a moment, Jang Geon spun around and hopped onto Jojo’s back. And before Jeok Se-in could utter another word, he spurred Jojo into action. Jeok Se-in, caught off guard by his abrupt and nonchalant departure, chuckled in disbelief.

In the eastern wilderness, she watched as his figure gradually receded, moving neither too quickly nor too slowly. Considering the circumstances, it resembled the gait of a mere traveler, yet it was the silhouette of a warrior who had just cut down thirty bandits.

“…We really just lettin’ him ride off into the sunset like that? Shouldn’t we at least give him a once-over? He might’ve swiped them martial arts papers on the sly.”

Once Jang Geon was sufficiently distant, San Ho, who had returned, looked in his direction and spoke, mirroring Jeok Se-in’s gaze. Jeok Se-in shook her head.

“Ain’t no need. His martial arts outmatch those devilish arts. Would he yearn to learn the very martial arts he stomped with his own strength, ‘specially ones that tarnish a man’s mind? I reckon not. Instead, we should be keepin’ an eye out for local Secret Alliance.”

“Eh? Secret Alliance? They gonna even let us get close? And just what are you tryin’ to sniff out?”

Jeok Se-in wore a smile that conveyed a sense of amusement.

“I took a gander at Gam Sang-cheong’s remains, and it looked like his innards were squashed.”

“… Squashed innards. But he had a sword, didn’t he?”

“He also had two hands.”

San Ho furrowed his brow.

“Squashed innards and two hands… you suggestin’ the Heavenly Fist? You hintin’ that fella’s from the Imperial Army?”

“That’s what we’re aimin’ to find out. But before that, we got a place to get to.”

San Ho smirked ambiguously.

“Why’s there always so dang much to do? Let’s just take a breather, Senior.”

In response, Jeok Se-in silently extended her hand towards San Ho. Then, a piece of paper sprung from her sleeve like a launched arrow. San Ho nimbly caught it and unfolded the paper.

“What’s this? I can barely make heads or tails of our branch’s map. The external map is a bit…”

“It’s a treasure map of the Joksa Dan found amongst Gam Sang-cheong’s stuff.”

“… Ah, are we aimin’ to rustle up the loot they’ve hoarded?”

As Jeok Se-in mounted her horse, she replied.

“The men of Joksa Dan butchered all the grown folks and snatched up all the young’uns to sell. There’s gotta be a heap of kids nabbed in this raid. We’re gonna save those young’uns.”

Suddenly, San Ho blushed and hid his face with his hat. He seemed embarrassed to have been discussing riches. Jeok Se-in took one last look towards the east before following San Ho.

“Reckon we’ll be crossin’ paths a fair bit, Warrior Jang.”

She murmured to herself, fastened the chin strap of her hat that she had removed, and spurred her horse westward. In the deserted wilderness they left behind, only piles of ashes burning intensely from the low-grade oil and the lifeless bodies of defeated villains sporadically cast low shadows.