Under the Same Moon
"So, she's dead."
"...Yes."
Hwahwa-nachal, a long pipe clamped between her teeth, turned her gaze toward the distant horizon. "Not even a Daoist priest, yet she was in such a hurry to leave early. Tsk."
Ascension. It was said that when a Daoist priest or a martial artist who cultivated pure energy attained supreme enlightenment, they would shed their mortal shell and become an immortal. To think the Sword Empress, who had supposedly gone into seclusion, had reached such a realm. The tobacco she usually smoked tasted exceptionally bitter today.
"And what about that disciple of hers?"
"He's still... sorting out his feelings."
"Hmph. For anyone who walks the path of the Murim, death is a constant companion. He's being overly dramatic."
"Master!"
At her disciple's uncharacteristic outburst, Hwahwa-nachal flinched inwardly. But true to her stubborn nature, she did not back down.
"What? Did I say something wrong?"
"This is Young Hero Yoo's first time in the Murim. Before this, he lived alone with the Sword Empress like family. Of course his grief would be immense."
"Hmph."
Faced with her disciple's quiet but firm rebuke, Hwahwa-nachal simply puffed on her pipe, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke directly toward Namgung Sua.
"Master."
Namgung Sua waved the smoke away with her sleeve, her expression turning deadpan.
She has no charm whatsoever. Whether it was her stiff attitude toward her own master or her tendency to take someone else's side, nothing about her disciple pleased Hwahwa-nachal at the moment.
"Fine. How is his skill?"
Unable to argue further, Hwahwa-nachal changed the subject. Knowing she had never once won a verbal dispute against her disciple, she brought up a topic that would surely pique her interest: the realm of martial arts. While any martial artist would enjoy the subject, her disciple was particularly obsessed with it. For someone who loved logical debates, Namgung Sua was surprisingly combative and possessed a strong desire for martial growth. Since they were of similar age, Hwahwa-nachal assumed they must have already sparred.
However, the response she received was entirely unexpected.
"He is strong."
As Namgung Sua spoke, a faint trace of respect lingered in her eyes.
"Huh?"
Hwahwa-nachal's brow furrowed sharply. That look of respect was something she had only seen occasionally during Sua's childhood, back when she had begged to be taken in as a disciple. Ever since she grew up, Namgung Sua had rarely looked at anyone that way. Yet, she was directing that very gaze toward a peer of her own age.
Hwahwa-nachal felt a sudden prickle of annoyance.
I'll have to teach him a lesson and see just how strong he really is.
She convinced herself this was purely the duty of a Murim senior and a sect elder. It was absolutely not out of petty frustration.
And yet...
What in the absolute madness is this?
Hwahwa-nachal's eyes shook with bewilderment as she gripped her horse-chopping saber. It was only natural. Both Goegelgae and her disciple, Namgung Sua, had clearly described the disciple as a boy. Yet, standing before her now was a young girl who vividly recalled the Sword Empress in her youth.
"Your martial niece will offer a move first."
And the realm of the kid pointing the sword at her with a chillingly calm voice was...
The Transformation Realm?
He was a master that even she could not afford to underestimate.
"Ahem."
In a run-down tavern on the outskirts of Hangzhou—a place so poorly situated that it had no other customers—Hwahwa-nachal raised her cup. Her gaze was fixed on a single spot: Yoo Jeong, who was currently having his pulse taken.
This makes no sense.
The hand holding her cup was still trembling. It was only natural, considering she had just unilaterally exchanged three blows with a fellow master of the Transformation Realm. Although he hadn't unleashed his Sword Qi, the attack of a martial artist who had achieved the unity of spirit, energy, and mind was on an entirely different level from ordinary warriors.
Gulping down the harsh liquor, Hwahwa-nachal recalled her disciple's words. He fought and defeated the Sword Demon? She had dismissed it at first, assuming someone must have helped him. Now, she had no choice but to admit it.
With that kind of strength, it's entirely possible to defeat an old man past his prime.
No matter how robust a martial artist might be, none could escape the flow of time. Muscles softened, and bones grew brittle. There was a limit to how much internal energy could compensate for physical decline, which was why elderly masters ultimately focused on external qi techniques. While highly effective against weaker opponents, it became a fatal weakness when facing a peer of equal standing.
If he couldn't overcome youth despite his vast experience, then that was simply his limit. But more importantly... what kind of examination is he getting?
The woman sitting across from Yoo Jeong was a face Hwahwa-nachal knew all too well. It was the Divine Doctor, one of the very few physicians in the world whose medical skills were peerless. Seeing her examine Yoo Jeong with such a grave expression naturally piqued Hwahwa-nachal's curiosity.
Whether they were aware of Hwahwa-nachal's focused senses eavesdropping on them or not, Yoo Jeong and the Divine Doctor remained entirely absorbed in their task.
After what felt like an eternity, the Divine Doctor let out a low sigh and opened her eyes.
"Is there something wrong?" Yoo Jeong asked in a calm voice.
The Divine Doctor shook her head. "Not at all. Your pulse is that of a perfectly normal woman. Well, by the standards of a martial artist, at least."
That only made it more astonishing. A man turning into a woman was a miracle that could not be achieved through ordinary surgery or conventional martial arts.
"Have you checked... that part as well?"
"Pardon?"
"Down there."
Following her intense gaze, Yoo Jeong's brow twitched. The Divine Doctor's expression was so deadpan and serious that he couldn't even bring himself to complain. He simply let out a heavy sigh.
"Yes. I believe so."
Yoo Jeong's reply was hesitant and lacked certainty. It was only natural; he had never exactly had occasion to closely examine a woman's private parts. Having only vaguely sensed that his male anatomy was gone, the Divine Doctor's straightforward question was as awkward as it was difficult to answer.
"Hmm. Did you say you rented out this entire tavern?"
"I was told it belongs to Haomun, and that they cleared out the entire place for us."
"Then follow me for a moment."
"Pardon?"
"I need to examine you directly."
"Excuse me?"
"Once my senior sister returns, it won't end with a simple checkup, so hurry..."
Yoo Jeong stared at her in sheer disbelief as the Divine Doctor urged her forward. But Yoo Jeong could not bring himself to nod in agreement.
I know it's just a medical examination, but...
His body had changed far too much, and it still didn't feel real in his daily life. It wasn't just the soft skin or the long hair. The slight sway of his chest when he walked, and the strangely empty feeling in his lower body, were deeply awkward and embarrassing, even for someone as ignorant of physical intimacy as Yoo Jeong. To show someone else a part of himself that he could barely bring himself to look at was a bridge too far.
As he let out a strained groan of resistance, the old saying proved true: speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
"Where is she?!"
An old crone's voice thundered through the tavern, followed closely by Namgung Sua.
"Papa! You promised me!"
"Hmph! I said I'd think about it! And I've decided I can't let this go. I must examine every single inch of that boy—no, that girl's body!"
"Papa!"
"I even sacrificed my precious innate true qi for this! I have at least that much right!"
"It's not that, I just asked you to give her some time..."
"Silence, you ungrateful girl! Now where is—ah, there you are!"
After shouting at the top of her lungs, the old woman, Ssangjeol-papa, finally spotted Yoo Jeong. As she marched toward her prey like a predator closing in, the Divine Doctor pinched the bridge of her nose, nursing an oncoming headache.
"Well, look who it is."
A voice suddenly cut in. It belonged to Hwahwa-nachal, who had been quietly drinking alone and eavesdropping on the conversation. Her sudden intervention drew everyone's attention.
The furious color drained instantly from Ssangjeol-papa's face.
Leaning against the table was a massive horse-chopping saber. Many in the Jianghu wielded bizarre weapons, but very few used a blade so absurdly large. And if the wielder was a woman, there was only one person it could be.
"The last time we met was in Sichuan, wasn't it?"
"Nachal... what business do you have here?" the old crone asked, bristling like an old cat whose territory had been invaded. Perhaps she had suffered a bitter defeat at her hands in Sichuan, for Ssangjeol-papa's body trembled slightly as she spoke.
"I simply came to see my disciple," Hwahwa-nachal replied casually, completely ignoring the old woman's hostile stance. Naturally, she made no mention of her mission regarding the Sword Empress. It was a classified matter within the Alliance, and there was no need to involve more people. However, even that simple excuse seemed to shock Ssangjeol-papa.
She pointed a trembling finger at Yoo Jeong. "Don't tell me... that boy—no, that girl is your disciple?!"
"No. My disciple is the girl standing next to you."
At her answer, Ssangjeol-papa's face brightened slightly. Indeed, Hwahwa-nachal was the successor of the Earth Blade, so her disciple would naturally wield a saber.
On the other hand, the weapon that girl was holding was a sword. I got worked up over nothing.
But just as she let out a sigh of relief...
"The child you pointed at is my martial niece."
"Ah, your martial niece. Well, that's a relief..."
Ssangjeol-papa froze. Hwahwa-nachal's martial niece. "Martial niece" meant the disciple of one's martial sibling, and the Earth Blade lineage was famous for having only a single successor per generation. Normally, she shouldn't have any martial siblings, but the Earth Blade was a unique case. Though they inherited different martial arts, there existed a lineage that shared the same roots and was regarded as their sister sect. And its name was no less famous than the Earth Blade itself.
The Heaven Sword.
Even Ssangjeol-papa, who was not well-versed in Murim affairs, was deeply familiar with the name of its successor.
"Don't tell me..."
"Yes. She is the disciple of the Sword Empress."
The color completely drained from Ssangjeol-papa's face.
In the inner courtyard of the tavern, Namgung Sua gazed up at the moon, trying to soothe her tangled thoughts.
So much has happened in such a short time.
She had embarked on many journeys in the Murim before. Given her surname of Namgung and her affiliation with the Wulin Alliance, it was only natural. Compared to her past travels, this journey had been incredibly brief. Yet, the events that had unfolded were unlike anything she had ever experienced.
The young girl she had met in Muo Valley. How flustered she had been when she realized that the child, who wore such a bright and innocent smile, was actually her martial aunt. But that bewilderment had been short-lived.
The mud dumplings and plain water she had served to welcome her guests. The games of "righteous hero" they had played to keep her entertained. The way the girl's eyes would light up with wonder whenever they passed through a small village, and her curiosity toward even the tiniest wild flower when they camped—before she knew it, the little girl had taken up a massive space in her heart.
She would wave cheerfully at passing merchant caravans, and shake her small head in fascination whenever she heard tales of heroes. She had felt less like a senior of her sect and more like a younger sister.
Which was why Namgung Sua felt a lingering sense of sorrow.
I couldn't even say goodbye.
At some point, she had lost consciousness. The same had happened to the Divine Doctor and the surrounding Demonic Cult warriors.
You must have done that on purpose.
Was it to spare them the pain of her departure, or perhaps for the sake of her final reunion with her disciple? By the time Sua opened her eyes, the little girl was nowhere to be found. According to Yoo Jeong, she had departed like the drifting seeds of the wild flowers she loved so much.
Even though a day had passed, the sudden change and the massive void left behind felt overwhelming. Namgung Sua simply stared blankly at the moon, just as she had once done alongside her.
"Lady Namgung."
A soft voice broke her reverie. Turning around, she saw a silver-haired girl who bore a striking resemblance to her young martial aunt. It was an appearance that made her wonder if the little girl would have grown up to look exactly like this. However, to Namgung Sua, who had known her previous form, this current appearance was still incredibly unfamiliar.
"Ah... Young Hero Yoo."
Dressed in a set of black martial robes provided by the Hwayeolluju, the girl walked into the courtyard carrying her sword.
"Did you come out to practice?"
"Yes."
His response was calm. His attitude of carrying out his daily routine as if nothing had changed was entirely unexpected. Knowing how deeply he had cared for his master, Sua had assumed he would be heavily shaken. But her assumption was wrong. After a single day of grieving, he had appeared with a perfectly composed face.
Because death was a familiar concept to her, yet the loss of someone close was entirely foreign, she found herself asking a question that bordered on rude.
"Young Hero Yoo... are you alright?"
"Yes."
"How can you be so composed?"
"Because I know."
"Pardon?"
Slowly stroking the hilt of Cheonru at his waist, Yoo Jeong's gaze drifted toward the distant sky. "She said she would be waiting."
There was an unwavering faith on the girl's face as she spoke. It was a different expression from the one she wore when looking at her master in the past, yet fundamentally the same.
"She told me to forge my own path with my sword, so I will simply do my best to fulfill that wish."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"No. I should be the one thanking you. I know how much you cared for my master, and I felt it deeply."
Yoo Jeong offered a bright smile, lightly tapping his sword. He then let out an uncharacteristic chuckle.
"I'm about to begin my practice. Are you going to peek again?"
It was an event from Muo Valley that felt like a lifetime ago, despite having occurred only recently. At his playful tease, a soft laugh escaped Namgung Sua's lips.
"Can we really be considered strangers? We are practically from the same sect."
"Indeed. We are of the same sect."
Accepting her words without hesitation, Yoo Jeong drew his sword. Cheonru. True to its name, "Heaven's Tears," the blade shimmered as it caught the moonlight, instantly recognizable as a masterpiece.
"Ah."
The path his sword traced through the air was as beautiful as ever. It was a magnificent trajectory that captivated anyone who watched, just as it had back on Mount Muo. Though his outward appearance had completely changed...
He is still Young Hero Yoo.
Ultimately, only his appearance had changed. With this small realization, Namgung Sua silently watched the sword dance beneath the moonlit sky.
After some time had passed, Yoo Jeong suddenly stopped his movements and spoke.
"Lady Namgung."
"Yes?"
"Did you ask?"
"Ask what?"
"Between my master and yours... who was the senior?"
Confused by the sudden question, Namgung Sua's eyes widened as the memory finally clicked.
"Ah."
She recalled the petty war of nerves they had waged on the day they first arrived in Hangzhou. But with everything that had happened, she obviously hadn't had the chance to ask. Before she could find the words to respond, Yoo Jeong cut her off.
"Let's just say I'm the senior brother."
"That's absurd."
"What's absurd about it? If you have a complaint, let's settle it with our swords."
He flicked the flat of his blade, sending a clear, resonant ring echoing through the quiet night.
"You're being unreasonable."
"Unreasonable? I'm going to speak informally now, junior sister. Call me senior brother."
"Do not speak informally. And what do you mean, senior brother? Senior sister at best."
"What?"
"Ah, let me correct myself. Junior sister at best."
"You're hilarious."
"You're the one being hilarious, Young Hero Yoo. No, I suppose I should call you Young Lady Yoo now?"
"What..."
"Are you flustered? So am I. You're acting like some unorthodox hoodlum..."
"..."
"..."
As their voices grew louder, they suddenly burst into laughter. It was a beautiful, moonlit night.