Chapter 66. Early Return (2)
A short distance away in the corridor, my eyes met those of the Ghost Shadow Thief.
The old man, leaning lazily against the wall, smirked and curled up the corners of his lips.
"You heartless brat. Shouldn't you at least show your face before leaving?"
"I intended to. It's just that you were quicker than me, that's all."
"Hah, you sure know how to talk."
With a chuckle, the Ghost Shadow Thief straightened his posture and stepped away from the wall. Then, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me.
"Take it."
"What is this?"
"The location of my tomb. Just in case, don't go looking for it right away. Wait until rumors spread that the Ghost Shadow Thief's secret vault has been discovered, and then pay a visit."
"…Are you really going through with this?"
"Why act so surprised? I started my life as a thief—ending it as one seems like the cleanest way to go. More than anything, just imagine the countless warriors of the Central Plains swarming to raid my grave."
"That would certainly be quite the spectacle."
The Ghost Shadow Thief never stole anything more precious than a man's life, but within his own principles, he had undoubtedly taken the most valuable things he could.
Though his tomb and vault wouldn't contain any legendary martial arts manuals, it would be filled with high-level techniques. Even if there were no divine weapons, renowned swords would surely be neatly displayed.
His prime had been nearly sixty years ago, but there were still those who remembered his name.
Once word of the vault spread, people would flock to it in droves.
It wouldn't just be unorthodox warriors coveting the treasures inside—reputable sects, who had suffered at the hands of the Ghost Shadow Thief in the past, would also rise to reclaim what was stolen from them.
Recovering what was once taken—what a simple and just cause to rally behind.
"It's going to be utter chaos."
"That's exactly what I want. I've always liked grand funerals."
The Ghost Shadow Thief grinned as if just imagining it brought him joy. His smile, oddly pure and childlike, made me chuckle despite myself.
"Thanks to you, I won't have to die alone in some remote cave, forgotten by all. Instead, the whole world will know my final moments."
"Now that I think about it, you did say that if I survived the assassins, you'd give me the Tomb Map without hesitation."
"That's right. Initially, I planned to tear it into pieces and scatter them across the land, but for you, I'm making an exception and giving you the whole thing intact. You should be honored."
"I'll save my excitement for after I'm the first one inside the vault. We're heading back to the Tang Clan now, but what about you? Despite your age, you're still in good shape."
"Haha, I'm not on death's door just yet. But I don't have much time left either. This last injury took a heavy toll on my vitality, and my internal energy won't be able to hold off aging for much longer."
The Ghost Shadow Thief looked down at his remaining leg. But rather than regret, his expression held relief.
"Well, it doesn't matter. I passed on what I learned from the Demonic Cult, I made peace with an old friend I never thought I'd see again, and I gave you what I needed to. Now, I plan to leave Zhongnan Mountain soon."
"I see."
"If time is short, then I'll just have to move quickly. I have a lot to prepare to make sure the rumors spread across the Central Plains naturally, without me lifting a finger."
The Ghost Shadow Thief was preparing for his own death.
It was clear why he was saying all this. He had already accepted that this was our last meeting.
The next time I saw him, it would likely be to pour a drink over his grave.
No matter how often I encountered people who knew their time was up and walked toward their own deaths, I could never grow used to it.
Had my thoughts shown on my face? The Ghost Shadow Thief shrugged and spoke again.
"Don't look so grim. I didn't just leave you with the Tomb Map, did I?"
"…Ah."
He was right. Though incomplete, the Ghost Shadow Thief had also taught me his footwork technique.
I wouldn't use it as it was, but its core principles would be woven into my own movements.
I had stolen and learned many martial arts, but those who had directly taught me were few and far between.
Feeling a strange sense of nostalgia, I found myself glancing down at my own feet, then at the Ghost Shadow Thief's. Suddenly, he reached out and patted my shoulder.
"We're different in many ways, but we do share one thing in common."
"And what might that be?"
"Neither of us properly learned martial arts the usual way. What we mastered works fine for ourselves, but it can't be passed down to others."
He was right.
The Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art was as formidable as any divine technique, but if anyone else tried to practice it, they'd call it a monstrous, demonic art.
After all, it granted complete control over internal energy and immense power, but at the cost of being endlessly tormented by murderous impulses.
Even among demonic arts, it would be considered particularly twisted.
More than just a set of techniques, the Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art was a culmination of my life—a collection of martial fragments stolen from various places, pieced together into something that suited me perfectly.
It was never meant to be passed on to another. It was crafted solely for myself.
History had seen many martial geniuses, but few had ever left behind their full techniques and insights. This was likely the reason why.
However, the Ghost Shadow Thief shook his head.
"I used to think the same. But you, like my younger self, dissect the Ghost Shadow Steps, stripping away the unnecessary parts and incorporating only what fits your own style."
"You're the one who told me to do that."
"I'm not criticizing you. It's just…"
The Ghost Shadow Thief trailed off, choosing his words carefully before continuing.
"I'm simply surprised. Seeing how you learned martial arts the same way I did… it makes me think you might not just be imitating. You might actually be able to understand it in its entirety."
I knew exactly what he meant.
The more I studied the Ghost Shadow Steps, the more I could feel the depth of thought behind it.
I began to understand why the Ghost Shadow Thief had incorporated certain movements into his techniques, why he sought to deceive others using a martial art meant to kill.
When learning other martial arts, I could naturally grasp their fundamental principles and intended purpose.
But with the Ghost Shadow Steps, his intent came through even more clearly.
As if, by understanding his martial art, I could come to understand the man himself.
The Ghost Shadow Thief must have noticed my thoughts, as he let out a quiet chuckle.
"At first, all I wanted was to make money. But before I knew it, I had become obsessed with the thrill of stealing and the exhilaration of being admired by the world."
"There are plenty of lunatics in the martial world. A mere obsession with theft is a relatively harmless quirk."
"Hah! You're right. In the end, my madness was nothing more than a case of kleptomania. But do you know what I thought when I tricked an old friend into inviting me to Wudang Sect and finally stole the scabbard of the Flowing Cloud Sword?"
"Guilt, perhaps?"
"That disappeared about halfway when I left behind a stolen Quanzhen Sect martial manual in the black market."
"That was rather quick."
"It would have been better if it happened after hearing the sect leader's declaration that he wouldn't hold me accountable, or after making peace with Jeon Il-bi, at the very least."
But when he firmly shook his head, his next words left no room for doubt.
"What I felt back then was fear."
"…Excuse me?"
"No matter how careless he may have been, I managed to slip past the notice of a Flowering Stage master and sneak into his private chambers. If I had wished, I could have stolen the Flowing Cloud Sword itself rather than just its scabbard. And if I were an assassin instead of a thief, I could have aimed for the life of the previous Wudang Sect Leader."
Of course, a Flowering Stage martial artist wouldn't be so easily killed. That's why he had said he could have aimed for his throat, not that he could have taken it.
But the simple fact that he had achieved a flawless infiltration against an absolute master—something no one else had ever done—would have been enough to shake the entire Central Plains to its core.
"As you said, I was just a man obsessed with theft. The harder something was to steal, the more exhilarating it felt. And hearing the world fuss over my exploits was equally entertaining. Even my plan to turn my tomb into a treasure vault and scatter the Tomb Map was ultimately just a way to boast of my legacy one last time."
"But not everyone shares your sense of amusement."
The true essence of the Ghost Shadow Thief's martial art wasn't simply about deception through unpredictable movements.
The half he didn't teach me—the true secret of his skill—was a stealth technique capable of fooling even the eyes of Flowering Stage masters.
"No matter how I looked at it, I could only see disastrous consequences. That's why I never passed my martial art down to anyone. I told myself it was because I didn't want to leave behind a legacy of thieves."
"And yet, you still taught me half of the Ghost Shadow Steps."
"I did feel gratitude toward you, yes. But… to be honest, in my old age, I got greedy."
"Greedy?"
"No matter how vast the Central Plains is, there are very few people like you and me—people who master multiple martial arts. Even fewer can refine them into something uniquely their own, and those who reach the highest realms are almost nonexistent."
"There are nearly none."
Before my regression, my younger self had arrogantly considered himself a Grandmaster-level genius for good reason.
I could do what others couldn't. I could instantly grasp martial arts that had been developed and refined for generations, steal their essence, and adapt them into my own.
The Ghost Shadow Thief must have been the same in his youth.
After all, Seo Mun-Hwarin had introduced me to his name not simply because he was a thief who had stolen his clan's techniques, but because he, like me, had collected and refined multiple martial arts into a style entirely his own.
This wasn't a matter of innate talent or intelligence—it was a completely different kind of ability.
I might not have been a true genius of that level, but still…
"Thanks to you, I'll have a grand send-off. And I thought that would be enough. But the more I considered the future, the more melancholic I became."
The Ghost Shadow Thief's vault would surely cause an uproar across the Central Plains. But eventually, every festival comes to an end. What once burned brightly would inevitably fade into quiet obscurity.
Once someone gathered all the Tomb Maps, found the grave's location, bypassed the myriad traps and competitors, and finally entered the vault…
That would be the end of it.
And then, he would simply be forgotten.
"But you're different. No matter how much the form may change, what I have left behind will always live on in your martial arts. And if you take on a disciple, it will be passed down even further."
"A trace…"
"Yes, a trace. My body will decay and disappear, but I've come to desire a more lasting mark. A vault alone isn't enough. I wanted someone who would truly understand and carry on what it means to be the Ghost Shadow Thief."
"And you think that person is me?"
"I'd like it to be you. Not that I have any right to demand such a thing after only passing down half my technique… Well, I've rambled on long enough. As I said before, old men tend to develop strange habits."
The Ghost Shadow Thief let out an awkward chuckle before taking a step back and cupping his hands in a formal salute.
Gone was his usual playful demeanor—this time, his gesture was as serious as when we had first met.
"My name is Jang Cheok. The world may call me the Ghost Shadow Thief, but I want you to remember this old man by his real name."
That was the last I ever saw of Jang Cheok.