A Blue Night in the Deep Valley
Mountains, trees, clouds. Even the tranquil lake reflecting them all. The entire world was either black or blue, as if a piece had been cut out of a landscape painting.
A silent world, devoid of even the common chirping of insects. This utterly static, monochromatic world pressed down on any onlooker, suffocating them.
Yet, there was one exception. The woman standing with a sword in the center of the lake existed apart from this frozen world. As if she alone received the moonlight hidden behind the clouds, she shimmered with silver light in the dark blue world, moving exceedingly slowly, yet with exquisite fluidity.
A midnight sword dance. Her continuous, unbroken sword path did not disrupt the tranquility of the night; instead, it merely carved silver trajectories into the nocturnal landscape.
At times, she resembled a weeping willow in full bloom. At others, she was a cascading waterfall, and in an instant, she became as majestic as Mount Tai.
A sword dance that embodied nature itself. The sword forms, which naturally instilled a sense of awe in any watching, accelerated toward their climax.
Clang! Just as the dawning light in the east dispelled the darkness, the tip of the sword shot forward like a beam of light, cleaving the night sky—and at that exact moment, Yoo Jeong awoke from his dream.
"That dream again."
The words he uttered the moment he opened his eyes were heavy with exhaustion.
Sunlight and chirping birds had begun to replace the dark blue landscape. It was a warm morning, filled with the scent of damp earth, yet the reason he could not start his day refreshed was clear.
For the past few years, a certain pure white sword dance had persistently haunted him.
A beautiful woman with silver hair. The sword path traced by the tip of her blade was more than enough to elicit wonder and awe from any martial artist who held a sword.
But Yoo Jeong's feelings did not stop at mere admiration. A fierce competitive spirit—a burning desire to clash blades with her, to defeat her, and to show her his own sword—raged within him like fire.
There's no way that could ever happen.
Knowing it was impossible for a certain reason, Yoo Jeong felt a deep sense of fatigue and emptiness every time he woke. It was a form of unfulfilled desire.
Yet, he quickly shook it off. Though he had been plagued by a sense of helplessness all day when it first started, two years had already passed—ample time to sort out such clumsy emotions.
"Time to make breakfast."
Slap, slap. Yoo Jeong patted his cheeks twice to psych himself up. After tidying his bedding, he stepped out of his room, mentally calculating what to prepare for breakfast.
Instantly, the towering mountains surrounding the area like a folding screen and the lush, green trees washed his eyes in soothing emerald.
Zhejiang's Mount Kuaiji. It was a famous and sacred mountain, historically renowned as the place where King Goujian of Yue suffered his great humiliation.
Consequently, while many sightseers and herb gatherers frequented the mountain, there was a deep, secluded area where even they dared not set foot. That place was none other than Muo Valley, also known as the "Fog Crying Valley."
Shrouded in mist all year round, it was a bizarre place where intruders would lose their way as if possessed, only to find themselves back at the entrance. Beyond this Muo Valley—a place even herb gatherers avoided due to the ominous, ceaseless crying of birds—stood a small thatched cottage. This was Yoo Jeong's home.
Of course, Yoo Jeong did not live alone in such a remote place.
"Master, are you awake?"
Yoo Jeong lived with his master, who was like a parent to him. As a devoted disciple, it was only proper to greet her and announce that breakfast was being prepared. To pay his respects and check on her, Yoo Jeong slid open the door to the adjacent room, only to freeze instantly.
His master, who usually slept heavily and should have still been snoring softly, was nowhere to be found.
Wildflowers, smooth pebbles, and various other trivial trinkets lay scattered about the room. Only the disheveled blankets remained in place. Seeing this, Yoo Jeong pressed a hand to his forehead.
"She's up early today."
Normally, his master wouldn't wake even if he shook her. But occasionally, she would wake up before Yoo Jeong could rouse her, and whenever that happened, she was bound to cause some sort of trouble.
I have to find her before things get out of hand.
There was no telling where his master might wander off to, what mischief she might get into, or if she would hide away in some unseen corner for days. Stepping out of the room and into the courtyard, he immediately began to circulate the internal energy in his dantian.
The Yang energy dormant in his Qi Sea acupoint stirred. It was the manifestation of his cultivation method, the Cheongwang Muae Singong.
Flutter! Even though there was no breeze, the sleeves of his black martial robes fluttered on their own, and a moment later, a gust of wind swept through the courtyard.
Yoo Jeong, who had been standing in the courtyard, leaped into the air in an instant, landing gracefully atop a tree several times his height. It was the technique of Controlling Qi to Soar—a movement technique that seemed simple but was highly difficult, requiring one to concentrate internal energy into the Gushing Spring acupoints on the soles of the feet to leap in a single bound.
"Hmm."
Standing atop the tree, Yoo Jeong let out a low groan as he scanned his surroundings. Though he had ascended to a considerable height after a few more leaps, his master was nowhere to be seen.
It was only natural. The interior of Muo Valley was vast, filled with numerous obstacles that blocked his line of sight. No matter how well Yoo Jeong knew this area like the back of his hand, finding a single person was a daunting task. Searching every nook and cranny on foot was out of the question. Since he didn't know when his master might wander past the boundary formation, he had to save as much time as possible.
Thus, instead of straining his vision, Yoo Jeong opened his mouth. A soft whistle escaped his lips, infused with the internal energy of the Cheongwang Muae Singong. Perhaps because of this, the remarkably clear melody spread slowly but surely across the valley.
It carried over the sounds of insects, the babbling brook, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind.
Screeech!
Yoo Jeong's hearing, sharpened by his internal energy, caught the distant cry of a bird. As if responding to the tune he had whistled, the bird of prey cried out at regular intervals, bringing a smile to his face.
"There you are."
Feeding it meat is finally paying off. Smiling with satisfaction, Yoo Jeong moved once more. His movements were ghostly and elusive, displaying a movement technique and footwork that had reached absolute mastery.
How far had he gone? After passing through the forest and crossing a stream, Yoo Jeong finally reached the person he had been searching for.
"Master..."
He had pleaded with her so many times. Determined to give his master a piece of his mind for slipping away without a word again, Yoo Jeong approached, only for his eyes to widen in shock.
It had been nearly a century since the Orthodox Alliance, led by the Shaolin Temple, aided the Imperial Court in driving out the sorcerers of the Sun Moon Sect and secured the treaty of non-interference between the government and the martial world. In this day and age, it was not difficult to find people with swords strapped to their waists.
Those who trained in martial arts and wielded weapons for their own various purposes—the common folk referred to them as the people of the Murim.
Thus, it was called a forest of swords and a mountain of blades, a Jianghu of wind and clouds! The Murim was a place where countless lives were staked on the tips of blades and vanished in vain every single day.
And Yoo Jeong was reminded once again of why his master had been feared and revered as the Sword Empress in such a terrifying world.
Anyone who witnessed the sight before him would have felt the exact same way.
In the center of a small clearing, Yoo Jeong's master was dancing. Just like the woman in his dream, her snow-white hair fluttered as she effortlessly wielded a sword nearly as large as her own body.
Of course, it was no ordinary sword dance. If it were, Yoo Jeong would have had no reason to be so captivated. His gaze was locked onto the sword dance—specifically, the tip of the blade as it traced its path.
A butterfly?
The sword was not the only thing in motion. A butterfly, as pure white as his master's silver hair, fluttered around the blade as if teasing a flower. It was incredibly harmonious, which only made it all the more bizarre.
Yoo Jeong was well-acquainted with the forms that made up this sword dance. They ranged from their lineage's foundational Ten Iron Sword Forms to the Eight Flows of Radiant Splendor—which could be considered her true martial art—and even elements of other sects' basic techniques, like the Taiji Sword and the Six Harmonies Sword.
If Yoo Jeong were asked to mimic his master's movements right now, he could do so without any difficulty. Yet, the butterfly was a different story.
His master's sword never stopped, swinging continuously with formidable momentum. Though she was merely wielding the blade out of ingrained habit, the weight of her lifelong mastery was so profound that she could easily cleave through a wild beast, let alone a fragile butterfly.
And yet, the sword dance did not harm the butterfly in the slightest. Even the wind generated by the swinging blade seemed to adapt to the butterfly's flight. Like two dancers performing a perfectly choreographed routine, his master's sword and the butterfly danced together in perfect unison.
So, Yoo Jeong simply watched. He did not want to shatter this small, wondrous spectacle. He believed that anyone else in his position would have done the same. It was just that beautiful.
However, the brief performance did not last long. The cause of the disruption was none other than Yoo Jeong's master.
Thud! She tripped and fell.
Startled by the sudden noise, the butterfly she had been playing with flew away, disappearing heartlessly over the trees without a backward glance. Yoo Jeong, equally startled, rushed toward his master.
Channeling his internal energy into his steps, Yoo Jeong crossed the distance in the blink of an eye and reached her side.
"Master!"
Yoo Jeong quickly pulled his fallen master to her feet, fussing over her with frantic concern. Falling while holding a sword was incredibly dangerous. Anxiously checking if she had cut herself or if her joints had been injured from the impact, Yoo Jeong meticulously examined the body of the young girl, who was much smaller than him.
The girl, who watched Yoo Jeong's frantic actions with wide eyes—Yoo Jeong's master, once feared as the legendary Sword Empress—tilted her small head, smiled brightly, and cheered.
"Jeong-ah!"
Calling her disciple by his childhood name, the Sword Empress lunged at Yoo Jeong. Her silver hair swayed as she moved with the agility of a squirrel.
The problem was— "Master! Put the sword down first!"
From the moment she danced to the moment she fell, she had never let go of the sword gripped tightly in her tiny, delicate hands.
With the sword swinging wildly at point-blank range, a terrified Yoo Jeong twisted his body using his footwork, barely managing to catch his master and pull her into his arms.
Nestled snugly in his embrace, his tiny master repeatedly called out his name, "Jeong-ah, Jeong-ah," as she rubbed her head against his chest.
"Why did you come all the way out here without even eating breakfast?" Yoo Jeong asked, stroking the hair of his childlike master, who had kept his heart in his throat since early morning.
"Mm. Friend called me."
"The butterfly from earlier?"
"Mm. Name is Baek-ah. Plays with me a lot."
"Still, you should eat before you play. I was worried."
"Okay, Jeong-ah. But you have to give me meat."
"You shouldn't be a picky eater."
"But the other stuff tastes bad."
Pulling back from Yoo Jeong's chest, the Sword Empress looked up at him, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. It was a familiar complaint about food.
Yoo Jeong met the gaze of his master, who looked no older than ten. Who would ever believe that this little girl was the legendary Sword Empress?
Yet, Yoo Jeong knew. He knew without a doubt that this girl was his master.
When one's martial arts reached the absolute peak, transcending the realm of perfection, time itself could flow backward instead of merely halting the aging process.
Yoo Jeong's master, the Sword Empress, had achieved Rejuvenation.
However, there were two problems. First, she had grown excessively young. Second, it was not just her body that had reverted to childhood.
Yoo Jeong's master, the Sword Empress, suffered from dementia.