The Hidden Blades in Shadow
The Tangmen Sect traces its origins to the turbulent final years of the Tang dynasty, when warlords and assassins thrived in the chaos. In Sichuan, a fractured clan of alchemists and killers — famed for their mastery of hidden weapons and poisons — gathered under one banner. From this union of exiled nobles, apothecaries, and mercenaries was born the Tangmen, a sect whose creed was simple: power lies not in armies, but in precision.
Unlike Shaolin’s open temples or Emei’s shining mountain halls, Tangmen shunned the light. Their founding families built labyrinthine compounds deep in forests and gorges, where outsiders could not follow. They honed the craft of poison, throwing knives, and mechanical traps until their name itself became synonymous with fear. To be struck by a Tangmen weapon was to meet death before one even saw the wielder.
Central to Tangmen myth is the story of Tang Zhan, the first patriarch. Betrayed by his own kin during a clan war, he was left for dead in a gorge filled with venomous serpents. Rather than perish, he studied the creatures, learning their movements, their venoms, their resilience. When he emerged years later, he wielded poisons so refined they could kill without scent or taste, and hidden weapons that struck faster than the eye. His vengeance carved the Tangmen name into history with blood and shadow.
From this legend came the sect’s first tenet: “Poison is neither evil nor good — only the hand that wields it gives it purpose.”
Throughout dynastic history, Tangmen never courted imperial favor. Instead, they thrived in the shadows between thrones:
The Song: Hired as assassins by rival lords, their hidden needles turned the tide of palace intrigues. Song emperors outlawed them, yet in secret, some emperors employed Tangmen to strike at enemies too dangerous to confront openly.
The Yuan: Mongol khans feared them above all. Tales spread of generals who died silently in their tents, needles lodged in throats, their killers never seen.
The Ming: Tangmen became infamous as mercenaries — one dynasty official called them “the knives of fortune, loyal only to silver.” Yet in Sichuan villages, they were both feared and relied upon, for Tangmen sold antidotes as readily as poisons.
Thus, Tangmen walked the line between reviled assassins and indispensable artisans.
The Tangmen’s path inevitably forged enemies:
Shaolin: Viewed Tangmen as the embodiment of hypocrisy and cruelty, corrupting martial virtue with hidden poisons. Shaolin monks dedicated sutras to resisting Tangmen’s “black arts.”
Emei: Considered Tangmen their moral opposite — Emei’s mercy against Tangmen’s ruthless pragmatism. Many blood-feuds were fought in Sichuan valleys between these sects.
Wanderer’s Valley: Both sects trafficked in shadows, but while Wanderer’s Valley embraced chaos, Tangmen cultivated discipline. They clashed often, each seeking dominance of the assassin’s trade.
Even in enmity, Tangmen thrived. To be hated was to be feared, and fear was the foundation of their reputation.
The sect’s history is littered with betrayal. Tangmen disciples who left the sect often carried with them knowledge of poison formulas or hidden weapon designs — making defectors hunted relentlessly. The Scarlet Viper Rebellion, when a branch family turned against the patriarch and nearly wiped out the core line, remains a tale of warning: Tangmen’s greatest enemy is often Tangmen itself.
Blood feuds also define their legacy. Entire generations were raised to avenge the poisoning of a patriarch or the defection of a genius artisan. Unlike other sects, Tangmen embraced vengeance as natural law: “The debt of poison is paid only in poison.”
Tangmen disciples are not monks or philosophers, but artisans of death. They see the world not in broad strokes, but in the precision of a needle, the balance of a dagger, the timing of a trap. To join Tangmen is to embrace secrecy, discipline, and pragmatism. Mercy is weakness; compassion, a liability. What matters is skill, loyalty, and silence.
Where Shaolin preaches vows and Emei wields mercy, Tangmen’s creed is stark: “The hidden blade never lies.”
Summary:
The Tangmen Sect was born in betrayal and vengeance, forged in poison and perfected in shadows. Founded by Tang Zhan, who turned venom into weapon and weakness into strength, Tangmen carved their legacy as assassins, artisans, and mercenaries. Reviled by Shaolin, opposed by Emei, feared by emperors, their identity is rooted in secrecy and precision. In Murim, Tangmen is not a temple or a sanctuary — it is the whisper of death in the mist, the needle unseen until it strikes.