"Kill him!"
At the furious command, the pirates raised their broadswords and charged.
The six pirates already aboard the vessel rushed forward, while another dozen or so scrambled across the iron chains connecting the ships.
Yet Cheon Woojin found himself puzzled.
Are they really trying to kill me?
Their mouths were certainly full of murderous threats.
But something was missing.
The killing intent they radiated was nothing like what he had experienced from his Black Master.
Naturally, he wasn't referring to the difference in their martial prowess.
When the Black Master directed his killing intent toward someone, there was never the slightest doubt about what would follow.
That man was going to die.
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
No possibility of escape.
Even Cheon Woojin, standing beside his master rather than facing him, could feel that absolute conviction.
Of course, the person on the receiving end must have been far more terrified...
Compared to that, the killing intent of these pirates was almost laughable.
It was as though they were thinking, Well, it'd be nice if we killed him. But if we don't, that's fine too.
What kind of halfhearted determination was that?
Before Cheon Woojin could ponder the matter any further, the pirates were already upon him.
He reached over his shoulder, intending to draw the Crescent Moon Staff strapped across his back.
Then he stopped.
Hmm.
If he swung that thing carelessly, there was a good chance he would smash not only the pirates' ships but also the vessel beneath his feet.
And he certainly couldn't allow that.
The boatman had been kind enough to offer him passage.
Making the man lose his livelihood in return would hardly be an appropriate way to repay that kindness.
With that thought, Cheon Woojin released his grip on the staff.
Instead, he reached into his robes and withdrew the Crane Feather Fan.
Snap!
The white fan unfolded with a crisp sound, revealing the three elegant cranes painted across its surface.
For a moment, the approaching pirates faltered.
...A fan?
That brat's going to fight us with a fan?
In the murim, folding fans were generally associated with elderly masters, eccentric scholars, or Taoist priests.
Seeing one in the hands of a young martial artist was unusual enough.
But Cheon Woojin paid their confusion no mind.
He gave the Crane Feather Fan a gentle flick.
A soft breeze began to swirl around him.
His plan was simple.
First, he would sever the pirates' wrists.
Then, once they were no longer able to wield their weapons, he could sit down and have a proper conversation with them.
Of course, whether men who had just lost their hands would be in any condition to hold a civilized discussion was another matter entirely.
But Cheon Woojin saw no particular problem with the idea.
Just as the Crane Feather Fan was about to complete its graceful arc—
"W-WAIT!"
A desperate shout rang across the deck.
The sudden interruption brought everyone to a halt.
The boatman hurried forward, the back of his neck still red where the pirate had seized him.
"I-I'll pay more!"
His voice trembled.
"I'll give you more money! Enough to cover the injured man's medical expenses, and then some! So please, let's put an end to this!"
He bowed his head repeatedly.
"We've known each other for years, haven't we? Please! I'm begging you!"
The pirates exchanged uncertain glances.
Seeing their hesitation, the boatman pressed on.
"Great heroes, I have a responsibility to protect everyone aboard my vessel!"
He spoke with growing urgency.
"I've lived by that principle for thirty years! How could I possibly stand by and watch a young man get stabbed to death on my own boat?"
His earnest plea hung in the air.
And then—
"Ah, damn it. I can't take this anymore."
Someone suddenly rose from among the young martial artists.
All eyes turned toward him.
It was the handsome young man who looked as though he had stepped straight out of a painting.
Song Yiyeon.
He drew the longsword at his waist and walked toward Cheon Woojin.
"This young hero is willing to stand up for justice, and the boatman here has principles worthy of respect..."
Song Yiyeon heaved a deep sigh.
Then he leveled his sword at the pirates.
"And here I am, sitting on my ass doing nothing. You're making me feel like complete trash."
His words seemed to strike a chord.
"Haah... I really need to pass this examination."
"Do you think I want to waste my strength before we even arrive?"
Three more young martial artists reluctantly rose to their feet.
They grumbled as they approached, but their hands were already resting on their weapons.
One of them pointed at Cheon Woojin.
"You're a reckless fellow, Young Hero! Have you even counted how many of them there are? What possessed you to step forward alone?"
Cheon Woojin merely shrugged.
Truthfully, he couldn't understand what all the fuss was about.
Whether those three helped or not, the outcome would remain exactly the same.
Meanwhile, the pirates exchanged uneasy glances.
Their opponents were only five inexperienced brats from the Orthodox Path.
That much was manageable.
However, the situation would become considerably more troublesome if the other passengers were inspired to intervene.
There were at least thirty young martial artists aboard.
And regardless of their age, they had clearly received proper martial training.
Fighting all of them at once would be a different matter entirely.
Still, retreating now would be humiliating.
They couldn't simply turn tail and flee because five youngsters had drawn their weapons.
The pirates hesitated, weighing their options.
And just then—
"Are you going to fight or not?"
A slender voice cut through the tension, cold as winter frost.
Everyone turned.
The beautiful young woman who had been sitting apart from the others was frowning.
Her already icy features seemed even more unapproachable.
She regarded the pirates with undisguised contempt.
"If you're going to fight, then fight. Otherwise, turn around and leave. Stop wasting everyone's time."
"..."
Song Yiyeon studied her for a moment.
Then his eyes brightened.
"Excuse me, but... are you perhaps a member of the Zhuge family?"
"...No."
The woman answered a fraction too late.
And that slight hesitation did not escape Song Yiyeon's notice.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Really? Because I happen to know someone from the Zhuge family who looks remarkably similar to you."
"I said I'm not."
"Are you absolutely certain?"
"..."
"Because I'm almost positive you're from the Zhuge family."
"I SAID I'M NOT!"
"Hmph. Well, if you say so."
Song Yiyeon shrugged.
In truth, he didn't particularly care whether she belonged to the Zhuge family.
His intention was simply to introduce another uncertainty for the pirates to worry about.
The Zhuge family was no ordinary martial clan.
Even the possibility of offending one of its members was enough to make most outlaws think twice.
Unfortunately, the young woman seemed less than appreciative of his interference.
She shot Song Yiyeon a murderous glare.
"Whether I'm from the Zhuge family or not is irrelevant. I have no intention of stepping forward."
Her voice remained cool.
"I have no desire to exchange blows with pirates, nor do I intend to waste any more time here."
She swept her gaze across the deck.
"Is there anyone else willing to join those five?"
Silence.
The young martial artists avoided her eyes.
Some lowered their heads.
Others pretended to be occupied with something else.
But no one moved.
Naturally.
Anyone who had intended to intervene would have done so already.
The woman sighed.
"Just as I thought. No one."
Then she turned back toward the pirates.
"Now make your decision. Are you going to fight, or are you going to run?"
The pirates exchanged looks.
Slowly, grins spread across their faces, revealing rows of yellowed teeth beneath their unkempt hair.
"Well, well. Not only is the young lady pretty, she's got quite the refreshing personality!"
One of them chuckled.
"Fine, then! We won't drag this out any longer."
He raised his broadsword.
"We'll kill these five brats and the boatman. Then we'll personally escort this vessel to its destination!"
Naturally, they had no intention of providing any such service.
Their actual plan was to seize the boat and everything valuable aboard it.
The only things they intended to leave untouched were the belongings of the young martial artists who had chosen not to interfere.
After all, those passengers had already made their position perfectly clear.
Now that the pirates knew no one else would step forward, there was no longer any reason to hesitate.
Their entire demeanor changed.
By this point, every pirate from the other vessels had crossed over.
Nearly twenty armed men now stood on the deck.
The four young martial artists beside Cheon Woojin swallowed nervously.
It was one thing to stand up for justice.
It was quite another to risk losing one's life before even reaching the Martial Alliance examination.
What if I actually die here?
That unpleasant possibility crossed more than one mind.
Then—
The pirates moved.
As though acting on a silent signal, they lunged forward together.
Song Yiyeon reacted instantly.
His figure shot across the deck like an arrow, his longsword flashing through the air.
The other three young martial artists followed close behind.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Steel struck steel.
Sparks scattered.
In an instant, the deck was filled with the clash of blades and the furious shouts of fighting men.
"..."
And Cheon Woojin?
He was watching.
Quietly.
Without moving a muscle.
"Y-Young Hero Cheon?!"
Song Yiyeon called out desperately while parrying a pirate's broadsword.
The boatman stared in astonishment.
The other young martial artists watching from a distance exchanged troubled looks.
Has he frozen in fear?
It was hardly unheard of.
A person could train in martial arts for ten years, twenty years, even longer.
But no amount of practice could fully prepare someone for their first genuine battle.
When real blades flashed before their eyes and blood began to flow, even promising martial artists sometimes found themselves unable to move.
That was the harsh reality of the murim.
Unfortunately, everyone had misunderstood.
Cheon Woojin wasn't frightened in the slightest.
He was simply confused.
His gaze shifted from Song Yiyeon to the cold-looking young woman, then to the boatman.
How strange.
Something about all three of them bothered him.
First, there was Song Yiyeon.
Why isn't he fighting properly?
Judging by his martial prowess, Song Yiyeon should already have been able to kill three or four pirates.
Yet not a single enemy had fallen beneath his sword.
It was almost as though he were deliberately holding back.
Cheon Woojin tilted his head.
What an odd fellow.
Just then, one of the pirates noticed him standing motionless.
"That son of a bitch!"
The pirate pointed his broadsword at Cheon Woojin.
"He's the bastard who started this whole mess, and now he's hiding in the back! GET HIM!"
Several pirates turned toward him.
Their faces twisted with rage.
And at that very moment—
Song Yiyeon's movements changed.
His sword suddenly accelerated.
The difference was startling.
"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!"
With a furious shout, he intercepted the pirates rushing toward Cheon Woojin.
Damn it!
Song Yiyeon couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The fellow had been brave enough to provoke the pirates in the first place.
And now that the fighting had actually begun, he was just standing there?
What the hell is wrong with him?!
Nevertheless, Song Yiyeon couldn't simply abandon him.
He had stepped forward because he couldn't bear to watch someone die.
How could he allow that very person to be butchered before his eyes?
Unfortunately, there were too many enemies.
Even as Song Yiyeon held off three pirates at once, two others slipped past his sword.
They charged straight toward Cheon Woojin.
"Young Hero Cheon! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
"DIE!"
A heavy broadsword descended toward Cheon Woojin's head.
Its blade was chipped and uneven, making the weapon look all the more vicious.
"YOUNG HERO!"
Song Yiyeon's desperate cry rang out.
But Cheon Woojin did not move.
Not even an inch.
Damn those bastards!
For the first time, Song Yiyeon felt genuine resentment toward the young martial artists who were still standing around watching.
A few of them appeared uneasy.
Some shifted their weight as though considering whether to intervene.
But it was already too late.
The broadswords fell.
And—
SHAAAH!
A fountain of blood erupted above Cheon Woojin.
Several onlookers instinctively shut their eyes.
Others turned their heads, unable to bear the sight.
Yet the screams that followed were not Cheon Woojin's.
"U-UWAAAAARGH!"
"KEUGH!"
Thud! Thud!
Two severed wrists struck the deck.
Both hands were still gripping their broadswords.
The pirates collapsed to their knees, clutching their bloody stumps with their remaining hands.
Their screams echoed across the vessel.
Cheon Woojin stood exactly where he had been.
The Crane Feather Fan rested lightly in his hand.
He could have severed their heads just as easily.
But he had chosen to cut off their wrists instead.
In Cheon Woojin's mind, this was an act of considerable mercy.
He approached the two pirates writhing on the deck.
Then he spoke in a low, earnest voice.
"Now that your wrists are gone, you won't be able to wield weapons anymore."
"...!"
He looked at them thoughtfully.
"Why not take this opportunity to turn over a new leaf and live as good men?"
"..."
Silence.
An indescribable chill swept through everyone aboard.
Song Yiyeon.
The pirates.
The boatman.
Even the young martial artists watching from a distance.
For a moment, they all felt the same unsettling sensation.
Because Cheon Woojin wasn't mocking the wounded pirates.
There was no sarcasm in his voice.
No cruelty in his expression.
He genuinely believed that losing their hands might help them become better people.
And somehow—
That made him far more frightening.
Is that really something you should say after cutting off their hands yourself?!
Song Yiyeon nearly shouted the thought aloud.
Fortunately, he managed to keep his mouth shut.
Cheon Woojin's way of thinking was simply too far removed from what most people considered normal.
The entire deck had fallen silent.
Everyone stared at him.
Only then did Cheon Woojin notice the strange atmosphere.
He looked around, blinking.
"What's wrong with everyone?"
"...You bastard!"
Perhaps it was his perfectly innocent expression.
Or perhaps the pirates simply couldn't endure the humiliation any longer.
Whatever the reason, several of them roared in fury and charged again.
Snap!
The Crane Feather Fan opened once more.
And at the crisp sound—
The pirates stopped dead.
Their bodies reacted before their minds could catch up.
They had just witnessed what that seemingly harmless fan could do.
Cheon Woojin regarded them for a moment.
Then he fell into thought.
What would my masters do in this situation?
The answer seemed obvious enough.
The Black Master would kill every last pirate without hesitation.
The White Master, on the other hand, would probably attempt to persuade them first.
At least, that was what Cheon Woojin believed.
"Hmm..."
He considered the matter carefully.
But the longer he thought, the less certain he became.
Eventually, he turned toward the cold-looking young woman.
"What should I do?"
"...?"
Every head turned toward her.
The woman stared back at Cheon Woojin.
Cheon Woojin met her gaze with perfect seriousness.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then—
"Haaah..."
She released a long, exhausted sigh.
And rose from her seat.
"I am Zhuge Lin."
Her voice carried clearly across the deck.
"Deputy Commander of the Martial Alliance's Black Tortoise Unit."
"...!"
"W-what?!"
The pirates stiffened.
Their eyes widened in disbelief.
Even the young martial artists who had remained spectators throughout the confrontation looked stunned.
Song Yiyeon, meanwhile, let out an impressed whistle.
"Wow. I was only guessing."
"..."
Zhuge Lin turned an icy glare upon him.
Song Yiyeon wisely stopped talking.
She stepped forward, approaching the scene of the confrontation.
Then she spoke.
"Now, then."
Her tone was crisp and authoritative.
"You pirates have certainly worked hard today. You may leave."
"..."
"As for the Martial Alliance entrance examination—"
She swept her gaze across the young martial artists.
"The five candidates who stepped forward have passed the first examination."
"...!"
Gasps erupted across the deck.
Zhuge Lin continued without changing her expression.
"My apologies to everyone else, but the Martial Alliance does not open its gates to those who knowingly turn a blind eye to injustice."
Silence followed.
The pirates stared.
The young martial artists stared.
Even those who had drawn their swords seemed momentarily unable to process what they had just heard.
The first examination?
That was the examination?!
Before anyone could recover from the shock—
"You bastard! What the hell are you standing around for?!"
A thunderous roar shook the deck.
Everyone's head snapped toward the source.
It was the boatman.
The same enormous man who had been bowing and scraping before the pirates only moments earlier.
Except—
He was now swinging his fist.
And what a fist it was.
The massive hand was easily the size of a cauldron lid.
Yet despite its size, it moved with such astonishing speed that its outline was barely visible.
"I TOLD YOU TO GET LOST!"
BOOOOM!
The fist smashed squarely into a pirate's face.
The impact sent the man hurtling backward through the air.
He flew across the water and slammed into a rock on the opposite bank.
Then—
SPLOOOSH!
He dropped into the water.
The boatman watched the spectacle with obvious satisfaction.
He dusted off his hands.
"Well, he's a pirate. I suppose he knows how to swim."
Gurgle...
Unfortunately, the unconscious pirate appeared to have a rather different opinion on the matter.
"...Or perhaps not."
The boatman threw back his head.
"HAHAHAHA!"
"..."
Another awkward silence descended upon the deck.
But the enormous man paid it no mind.
He strode over to Zhuge Lin and stood beside her.
Then, with the air of someone making an official declaration, he spoke.
"My name is Cheol Jiak!"
His booming voice carried across the water.
"Commander of the Martial Alliance's Black Tortoise Unit!"
"...!"
"And thank heavens! I can finally be done with this damned boatman act!"
He rolled his shoulders.
"Now then, listen carefully, you pirate scum!"
The smile vanished from his face.
"If you're not off this vessel by the time I count to three, I'll consider your continued presence a direct challenge to the Martial Alliance."
His knuckles cracked.
"And I will respond with entirely legitimate, though perhaps somewhat excessive, force."
He raised one thick finger.
"ONE—"
That was as far as he got.
Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
The pirates scrambled toward the chains in utter panic.
Some practically trampled one another in their haste to return to their own ships.
Those too impatient to wait for the chains simply threw themselves overboard.
Splash! Splash! Splash!
In the blink of an eye, the deck was almost entirely cleared of pirates.
Cheol Jiak watched their retreat with a deeply satisfied expression.
Then his gaze settled on Cheon Woojin.
The amusement disappeared from his face.
He approached the young man with a serious expression.
"You."
Cheon Woojin looked up.
"Yes?"
"When did you realize we were from the Martial Alliance?"
His voice was unusually stern.
"Think carefully before you answer. And don't even consider lying to me."
There was a reason for his sudden change in attitude.
The Martial Alliance's entrance examinations were prepared under the strictest secrecy.
Their contents were never disclosed in advance.
This was essential to preserving the organization's founding ideals.
The Martial Alliance prided itself on fairness.
It was supposed to be a place where martial artists could rise through merit, regardless of family background, wealth, or influential connections.
If examination questions or procedures were leaked beforehand, wealthy families and powerful sects could exploit that knowledge to secure positions for their descendants.
Such corruption would undermine the very principles upon which the alliance had been established.
And so, Cheon Woojin's answer was of considerable importance.
If the examination had somehow been compromised before it even began...
"I just found out myself."
"...Huh?"
Cheol Jiak blinked.
Cheon Woojin pointed toward Zhuge Lin.
"She was talking to herself."
"..."
For a moment, Zhuge Lin's jaw fell slightly open.