The World's Greatest is Dead

An utterly empty box.

The faint herbal scent lingering inside hinted that something had once been there, but now there was nothing at all.

“...What is this?”

Why is this empty? It shouldn’t be empty.

I shoved the box at him, fluster written all over my face. Yoo Cheongil just stared.

Then he scratched the back of his head and said to me,

[Got cleaned out, huh?]

“...What?”

[Hahahahaha. Well now, looks like it got cleaned out.]

He bursts into raucous laughter at who-knows-what. That damn laugh grated every time I heard it.

“You think this is funny?”

[Isn’t it? Some bastard raided my hidden snacks.]

“Shouldn’t you be mad instead of laughing?”

[No. Laughing is correct.]

He stops laughing all at once.

[How could I not laugh, when some fearless wretch dared to empty my pantry.]

“...!”

The air drops like a stone.

My breath snags and gooseflesh ripples up my arms.

‘...Shit.’

I almost backed away without realizing.

Right. This old man—

‘He’s furious.’

The laughter wasn’t just laughter. He’s actually angry.

No wonder he’d been smiling scarier than usual.

[How did they raid it, though...]

At the muttered doubt, I narrow my eyes.

“You said all the passages are linked. Didn’t they just walk in and take it?”

He knits his brows. Clearly doesn’t like that answer.

[Impossible.]

“Why? Plenty of people have internal arts; even by chance someone could open—”

[If all internal arts were the same, yes.]

“...Excuse me?”

[Didn’t you feel it? Not all ‘Blue Moon Heart Art’ are the same.]

“...”

I bite my tongue. I did know that.

I just wasn’t certain.

[Why the elder and that newborn pup doubt you yet don’t treat you roughly—you’ve noticed, I’m sure.]

“...Because I carry your internal art?”

[Yes, exactly—no, and your honorific for me just flipped back in a blink.]

He’s miffed I demoted him from “respected elder” to “old man.”

“This isn’t the time to care about that.”

[It’s a little important to m—]

“So this space can’t be opened without your internal art.”

[...Yes.]

“But someone opened it and took the elixir...?”

Which means—

“Either there’s another person with your internal art, or else—”

[Or else you can open it without that, and someone else knows this location.]

“...Oh.”

In short—

“We’re screwed?”

It meant the situation wasn’t great.

‘Either way, it’s an anomaly.’

Outside the plan, and even trying to plan for it was messy.

Even if we assume they somehow decoded the internal art—knowing the location is another matter.

‘Judging from the old man’s reaction, he didn’t exactly tell anyone.’

Suppose they figured out the spot somehow. Look around: there are eight doors in all.

If he installed mechanisms in every building, the number of doors doesn’t match.

‘He couldn’t have made doors for every single one; some passages must interlink.’

Too many probabilities. With this many entrances, discovery was more than possible.

“What about forcing the mechanism—could someone have broken in?”

[No.]

The firmness of it makes me nod.

“Why so sure?”

[Didn’t I say the maker was the Tang Clan’s cranky old man.]

“And that means?”

[He’s a lunatic by temperament, but his skill is superb. The flaw isn’t his.]

“...”

Such absolute faith. Sounds like the work of a master craftsman... but—

‘I still have to think.’

That’s his belief, not mine. I’m the one who has to do the legwork, so I file it as one possibility among many.

“So what you mean is, they had to have used a proper entrance... Is that possible?”

[No idea.]

“...Pardon?”

[Isn’t that what you’re about to go figure out?]

“Wow. You really are insane.”

[...You’re not even bothering to sugarcoat it now.]

How would I sugarcoat this? Even if I could, I wouldn’t.

You need gall for that. This isn’t a joke.

“Was there even an elixir to begin with?”

[That’s your new doubt, is it.]

“Your memory isn’t exactly pristine. And frankly, it would be easier if that were the case.”

Better the old man’s senility than a fresh disaster making my head spin.

But—

[The elixirs were there.]

Again, he’s adamant.

[I went to great trouble fleecing Shaolin’s bald donkey and Mount Hua’s sword-peacock to get them...! They were absolutely there.]

“...Bald donkey and sword-peacock?”

[Yes, that Shaolin bodhisattva fraud and Mount Hua’s Plum-Blossom First Sword—]

“Tha— that’s— stop. Don’t say another word.”

I cut in fast. Just the epithets make my knees weak.

‘...Bodhisattva and the Plum-Blossom First Sword.’

The previous Shaolin abbot, and the current head of Mount Hua.

It’s terrifying enough when the outer heavens of today’s Central Plains start dropping nicknames.

‘And you robbed those guys for them?’

Unbelievable, just hearing it.

Which also means—

‘...It was probably the Grand Rejuvenation Pill and the Purple Millet Pill.’

Shaolin’s and Mount Hua’s signature elixirs. Suddenly my stomach aches.

“...Goddamn it, which bastard took my elixir.”

[Why is it your elixir again...]

“If it had still been here, it would’ve all been mine...!”

[...Ah. Sure.]

“Which son of a—”

Who took all that rare, precious stuff. Just let me catch you.

Honestly I couldn’t do much even if I did, but I was mad anyway.

“...Haa.”

Heat drains in a rush.

‘Standing around won’t fix it.’

Now that we know it’s gone, we’re done here.

Feels like we just came to scramble my head more.

“Let’s go back...”

I turn. Best to get out before anyone comes.

[Stop.]

He halts me.

“Why? If someone shows up, this’ll be a mess to cover—”

[I said the box was raided. I never said everything was raided.]

“...!”

I whirl at once.

“...Respected elder. You mean...!”

[...]

He gives me a brief look of contempt, then erases it and points ahead.

My gaze follows his fingertip—to a wall.

“What is it?”

Just a bare wall. I scan it, but nothing stands out.

Then—

[Listen, brat. My snack pantry isn’t this small.]

My eyes widen.

[That’s right.]

He splits a grin.

[Let’s go to the next room.]

This wasn’t the end.

****

I step up to the wall and look. Still nothing to see.

I run my hand over it. Cold. No special difference from any other wall.

“There’s an entrance here.”

[Yes.]

Is there really something? No matter how I look, there’s nothing.

‘If he says go to the next room, shouldn’t there at least be a handle?’

The thought flits by, meaningless.

‘If it had that, it wouldn’t be a secret room.’

After a few more passes, I ask him,

“What do I do now?”

[Beats me.]

“...What?”

What kind of half-baked answer is that? I frown at him.

‘Would you look at this old man.’

That expression is wrong. He’s not answering because he doesn’t know.

The curl at his lip is pure mischief.

I get it immediately—Go on then. Figure it out. That’s what it says.

“...We came all this way for pranks?”

[Give it a try.]

“Even now, really...?”

[Brat, if you figure it out, I’ll give you something good.]

“...Something good?”

My ears perk, just a little. Confirmed. I am crass.

“What is this good thing?”

[Hm... What shall I give you. Ah, right.]

He claps those big hands.

[That Wrought-Iron Sword I mentioned? I’ll give you something better.] 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

“...!”

[I figured you’d need a sword anyway. Works out, doesn’t it.]

“...”

[Do it, and it’s yours. So find it.]

Better than a Wrought-Iron Sword?

What could that be. I don’t know, but—

“...I’ll at least try.”

Anything’s a gain if I get it. I face the wall.

‘Open the door.’

No handle, and touch gives me nothing. But he said there’s a door to the next area, and moreover—

‘If he told me to figure it out, then there’s a clue I can use.’

Or else—

‘Even if the clue isn’t here, he already taught me the method to make it possible.’

That’s the conclusion.

I narrow my eyes at the wall.

The space is dark. No lamps, no hooks to hang one.

The place wasn’t designed with a lamp in mind.

Probably because of what he taught me a moment ago.

‘Pour energy into the eyes to brighten sight.’

I’m still using it now.

‘...’

Thinking of that settles my gut.

‘Something’s off.’

He could have told me to bring a lamp, or told me earlier.

Even if he looks like a brute, I already know his mind runs deep.

Yet he deliberately waited until we were inside to possess me and teach me.

I focus there.

‘He definitely told me to “find it.”’

Find what? I recall his words and tighten my eyes.

Wuum.

The internal art that has been turning all along responds. The spin quickens a little.

‘...Hoo.’

I level my breath. The faster it spins, the more the instability spikes.

Lose focus for a moment and it’ll shake apart.

Knowing that, I push the speed.

To the limit I can hold.

My vision brightens a notch.

‘This much?’

But that’s all—just brighter. Nothing shows itself.

So not this?

‘This is getting rough.’

Feels like it’s some other method, so I start to ease the rotation—

Viiiiing—!

“...!”

At the very peak of the spin, something flickers on the wall.

A line. So faint and transparent—but a line is scored across the wall.

And then—

Tuk—!

The internal art unravels and the dark closes in. I couldn’t hold the rotation.

Pitch black again.

In that dark, I close my eyes.

[Oh?]

He sounds intrigued, but I barely hear him.

‘It was a line.’

A line on the wall.

A horizontal line. About seven chi in length.

Seen through energy-fed eyes, that’s solid information.

A passage inside a blank wall.

Its entrance is hidden and there’s no handle.

But a seven-chi line holds a blue hint.

I connect the thoughts.

‘What we did to get into this pantry.’

Move the dresser. Pull out the third drawer, then open the first while using internal art.

What’s the point of that sequence?

‘This place and Yoo Cheongil’s internal «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» art are tightly bound.’

Which means—

‘This secret door is bound to it, too.’

My head runs hot.

Before long—

Srring.

I arrive at the conclusion.

I draw my sword and lower my stance.

My eyes are still closed.

No point keeping them open. Why not brighten them again?

‘No.’

I don’t have the leeway to use that and execute a technique together.

Wuuum!

The internal art turns again, pouring vigor into my body.

‘Recall it.’

Like when I stood before the Sect Master.

Match the air. Match the body of that moment.

Energy bursts out of the dantian (inner energy center) and curls around my blade.

In the dark, my sword alone shines blue.

When the flow runs and runs and gathers at the tip—

[Will you manage with your eyes closed?]

He asks.

I don’t answer. I can’t spare my mouth; all of me is focused. I answer only in my head.

‘Doesn’t matter.’

Sight or no sight—it doesn’t matter.

‘I saw it when my eyes were open.’

I saw that line. I fixed its position and its length.

For me, that’s enough.

With my eyes shut, with darkness thick around me—I still see it.

No. I remember it.

Shiiiii—!

I swing without hesitation.

Moon Wave blooms from my hands again.

Shaaak—!

The tip scythes past the wall.

Not striking—missing by exactly a quarter inch.

[...Ha!]

Yoo Cheongil lets out a long breath.

Rrrrrrrrr—!!!

A massive sound rolls out of the wall.

The answer was correct.