The Road to Wuhan (2)
My hand felt numb.
“Ugh…”
The moment I opened my eyes to the soft pressure against my palm, I saw Hye-ryeong fast asleep, using my right hand as her pillow. She had definitely been much farther away right before I drifted off—when had she rolled this close?
She was barely three feet away. One good turn and she’d be nestled against my chest. That would be trouble, so I needed to pull my hand free. But if I did, her head would smack straight into the dirt. I first drew a thin thread of aura and wrapped it around my arm.
My strengthened muscles easily cradled her head. The compressed part of my palm returned to normal as I gently pushed her away. Only then did blood rush back into my hand.
As expected, most problems like this were solved the moment you coated yourself in aura. And if it didn’t work, the first thing to question was whether your aura was simply too weak.
Still…
No. I tore my gaze away from the unusually deep cleavage revealed by her disheveled clothes and looked up at the sky. The ambiguous pre-dawn heavens, still waiting for the sun, were thick with silver stars.
Constellations… honestly, I had no idea how to read them. No matter how long I stared, I couldn’t trace a single shape. What had they been again?
Seoul’s night sky had almost no stars, so even now, faced with a clear expanse of them, my memories refused to surface. The only ones I remembered were the Big Dipper and the Heavenly Killing Star that showed up endlessly in wuxia novels, but I couldn’t picture what either actually looked like.
“Ugh…”
The sound beside me drew my eyes back. Hye-ryeong was frowning in discomfort and shifting position. Her chest followed gravity’s pull, yanking my gaze with it. Layers of bandages hid her skin, yet the sight was still dangerously provocative.
Frankly, if we had truly been alone, I might not have held back.
…Sigh.
Get it together.
I let out a long breath, feeling the dampness on my palm. At this rate, actual drool might start pooling. I carefully rolled over, supporting her head with my left hand, and slowly withdrew the right.
Ugh. Sticky.
Next time I’d make sure we slept farther apart. Beauty’s saliva or not, waking up with a hand covered in spit was not exactly pleasant.
“…There was a stream nearby.”
Where had it been? I scanned the area with my sticky fingers still spread. The sleeping companions. One man sitting quietly.
Geon-sam.
When I rose, he turned his head toward me, glanced at Hye-ryeong, then politely looked away. I carefully straightened her posture and pulled the blanket up to her neck. The curves beneath the fabric stood out blatantly. No matter how much I tried to hide them, they refused to be hidden.
They were simply too large.
Once covered, the chill seemed to ease. Hye-ryeong’s breathing grew even and peaceful. At this rate, someone could probably carry her off and she wouldn’t even notice. I neatened the stray strands of her hair with my left hand and stood.
“…Any idea which direction the stream is in?”
“…”
That way. I turned in the direction Geon-sam pointed.
The trees blocking the moonlight swayed their branches in the cool breeze, looking strangely ominous. It felt like something might leap out at any second. Of course, to a martial artist, ordinary beasts posed little threat. A tiger or bear, however, would be a different story. No matter how much internal energy you possessed, one slip against such creatures could cost your life. Fortunately, wild animals had keen instincts and rarely attacked martial artists.
Here it is.
After walking about five minutes, the sight before me left me awestruck.
It was too small to call a river, yet the stream asserted itself with quiet confidence. Was this what people meant by nature’s hidden beauty? Moonlight shattered across the water’s surface and flowed downstream like a painting come to life.
…The dawn must be getting to me. My poetic side was running wild.
I sighed and plunged my hand into the stream. The icy water instantly chilled my skin. After washing away every trace of Hye-ryeong’s drool, I shook my hand dry, sat on a nearby rock, and let my mind wander.
The cold had driven away the last traces of sleep. Since I was already awake, I washed my face too. All drowsiness vanished.
“…Come to think of it, it’s been a long time since I had a moment alone like this.”
The hollow mutter dissolved into the sound of flowing water. I turned my head downstream. The stream stretched on without end, probably flowing toward Dong Lake in eastern Hubei.
Useless thoughts drifted through my head as I stared blankly at the clear current. There was something healing about watching water move so purely.
After a long while, I reached into my robe and pulled out the first volume of the Shadowless Divine Thief’s manual.
…Might as well read a little more.
Even if I couldn’t understand it yet, memorizing everything first and digesting it slowly later was the only way. If I kept at it, some clues would eventually surface. I wasn’t sure a thief’s movement technique would suit a knight, but a legendary art respected throughout the gangho had to be better than half-baked footwork. Anything was better than knowing nothing.
I carefully opened the first page.
This seat was once of the Geumyang Sect… In the world I am known as the Shadowless Divine Thief…
Even a thief remained a martial artist at heart, it seemed. The preface of the two slim volumes opened with shameless self-praise. Five whole pages of boasting about the treasures he had stolen and loudly declaring “This is the kind of man I am!” I had already suffered through the opening once; it was excruciatingly boring. I skipped it without hesitation.
Self-praise is tolerable only once. Twice or more and it becomes nothing but empty noise. Who wants to hear another person brag repeatedly?
I continued reading. Normally the classical Chinese would have defeated me, but thanks to the language correction I received upon possession—the only real mercy of my transmigration—reading wasn’t difficult. The archaic phrasing still tripped me up, yet the author’s background as a thief made the text surprisingly straightforward compared to other books of this world.
Western arts tomes, by contrast, buried simple concepts under layers of bizarre rhetoric. Why did learning swordsmanship require studying Plato? Why did one need to memorize the Bible?
A footwork technique conceived by observing the shadows cast by moonlight…
…Sigh.
What was the point of dwelling on the past? I needed to memorize even one more line.
I buried my face in the manual and read with fierce concentration. Unfortunately, I never got to finish.
I closed the book and slipped it back into my robe. A presence had appeared on the far side of the stream.
Human qi, sensed between the trees. The distance was considerable, yet the combat instincts I had forged on the battlefield remained sharp.
“Who’s there?”
I rested my hand lightly on the sword hilt and spread my stance. Ready to draw and strike at any moment.
Animal? Or human?
No answer came. Only the rustle of grass.
The presence drew steadily closer.
Attack first, or wait? The decision window was short. If something suddenly burst out, I would have to cut it down immediately. I began drawing aura from my mana core.
Without knowing the opponent’s level, I had to prepare my strongest response. Soon a vivid blue edge formed along my blade.
“Come out.”
Whether in response to my words or simply arriving on its own path, the uninvited guest pushed through the undergrowth. The figure stared at me in silence.
A face filled with bewilderment.
There was something strangely familiar about those features. I couldn’t help but stare.
I’ve definitely seen this woman before.
“…Ah.”
Why are you here of all places?
“…Where am I? I was only out for a walk—”
That’s what I want to know.
The distance from here to Wuhan is considerable. How did you end up in this exact spot?
Did I twist the world line that badly?
The woman with ash-gray hair looked at me. As far as I remembered, only two women in the original story possessed hair of that shade. Given that she appeared close to my own age… I pressed a hand to my forehead at this unforeseen meeting with one of the original heroines.