The Return of the Lady of Yue

In a secluded inn in Hangzhou, Yoo Jeong sat in his room, staring intently at his reflection in a bronze mirror. The reflection stared back with equally sharp, fierce eyes. Yet, the woman's face in the mirror still felt foreign, as if it didn't truly belong to him.

He pinched his cheeks. He pulled down his eyelids to examine his brilliant blue eyes. He even parted his pink lips, which resembled freshly bloomed peach blossoms, to inspect his neat, even teeth. While the original Yoo Jeong had been reasonably handsome, his current face was so breathtakingly beautiful that even his own heart occasionally skipped a beat.

This is bizarre.

He didn't possess an exhaustive knowledge of the differences between men and women, but he knew well enough that getting flustered by his own reflection was far from normal. Yoo Jeong figured this reaction stemmed from a deep sense of dissonance—the dissonance of viewing his own body as that of a stranger. It was a fully female body, indistinguishable from any other woman's, as guaranteed by the Divine Physician. With silver hair and blue eyes that evoked his master rather than his past self, not a single trace of the original Yoo Jeong remained. The only threads connecting him to his true identity were his martial arts, his memories, and his existing relationships.

*Knock, knock.*

"Lady Yoo."

The gloomy expression on his face instantly vanished at the sound of the voice. It belonged to the person who held the longest thread of connection to him, stretching back to when he was still his original self. She was the one who made him feel like Yoo Jeong. His face brightened as he opened the door to reveal a woman wearing a familiar cat mask.

"Oh. What is it?"

"Well..."

Seeing the woman, Namgung Sua, hesitate to speak, Yoo Jeong's jade-white brow furrowed slightly.

"Is this about the Wulin Alliance again?"

For the past few days, Namgung Sua had been bringing up the topic, urging him to accompany her to the Wulin Alliance Headquarters. She claimed the primary reason was to investigate his current physical condition, but... The Covenant of the Northern Sword must play a part in this too. Still, Yoo Jeong had put it off until now, focusing entirely on refining his martial arts.

"No, it's not that. Someone is here to see you, Lady Yoo."

"Can you please stop calling me 'Lady Yoo'?"

"Well, to call you 'Young Hero'..."

Her gaze swept blatantly up and down his figure. Beneath her mask, a mischievous smile played on Namgung Sua's lips. Ever since he had started delaying their trip to the Wulin Alliance, Namgung Sua had deliberately addressed him as "Lady." It felt like a silent protest.

"You understand, right?"

"Sigh."

"Anyway, the Mistress is here to see you."

"Who?"

"Hwayeolluju."

Hwayeolluju. The Zhejiang Province Branch Leader of the Haomen and the owner of the now-ruined Hwayeollu. Hearing that she had come to see him despite being buried in the reconstruction and aftermath of the pavilion's destruction made Yoo Jeong's face turn pale.

"I'm sorry. Tell her I can't see her because I'm in the middle of cultivating."

"My, how cold of you, young master."

A refreshing voice drifted up from below. Dressed in her usual luxurious and elegant court robes, Hwayeolluju waved as she ascended the stairs.

"Sigh..."

Looking at her, Yoo Jeong let out a deep, weary sigh from the bottom of his heart.

Truth be told, Yoo Jeong had no reason to dislike Hwayeolluju. Back when his master was still around, the Mistress had doted on him like a younger sibling during their brief time together. She had provided crucial information about the Divine Physician when he needed it, and even offered a safe house for their group when they were pursued by the Sword Demon. She was someone he should be grateful to, yet he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable around her. The reason was precisely because of situations like this.

"Young master, you haven't brushed your hair again, have you?"

"N-No, that's not..."

"Hmph, liar. You can't fool me. This humble one can tell just by looking, and a single touch makes it absolutely certain. Isn't that right, Lady Namgung?"

"Y-Yes?"

Namgung Sua, who had been watching the two blankly, started in surprise when the arrow of conversation suddenly pointed her way. Hwayeolluju let out a soft chuckle at her reaction.

"I am speaking of hair. It seems Lady Namgung also takes quite some care of hers."

"For a martial artist, cultivating one's martial arts is far more important. ...I only tend to it briefly."

"You mustn't think that way. Even Lord Guan of Shu Han during the Three Kingdoms period cared for his beard amidst chaos, earning him the title of 'Lord of the Beautiful Beard.' To a woman, her hair is just as important as a man's beard is to him."

The Mistress lectured them like an older sister scolding her younger siblings. All the while, her hands never stopped running a comb through Yoo Jeong's silver hair. This was precisely why Yoo Jeong found her difficult to deal with. Even though she knew he had been a man, she always treated him like a young girl. At times, he felt as if he had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠become her personal dress-up doll.

Yet, Yoo Jeong still felt a deep sense of gratitude toward her. It was hard to draw a firm line with the Mistress, especially when she sometimes looked at him with distant, wistful eyes, as if reminiscing about someone else.

"In that regard, Lady Namgung's hair is so beautiful it could arouse jealousy. If only you paid just a bit more attention to its care."

Overwhelmed by the Mistress's high praise, Namgung Sua turned her head away in embarrassment. However, she must have been pleased, as she gently stroked her hair, which she had swept to one side. Yoo Jeong silently agreed with the sentiment.

"True. I've often thought about giving Sua's hair a tug."

Although her hair was loose now, Namgung Sua usually wore it tied back tightly. Her black hair, bound in a single ponytail that swayed from side to side, resembled the sleek tail of a fine steed. Its gentle swaying motion almost seemed to invite a touch. In fact, his master had often played with her hair.

However, the reaction to his words was unexpectedly cold. The moment Yoo Jeong finished speaking, both Namgung Sua and Hwayeolluju glared at him with icy stares. As Yoo Jeong stood bewildered by their reaction, the Mistress stopped combing his hair and spoke in a stern voice.

"Young master, you must not do that."

"Huh? No, I didn't mean that I was actually going to do it."

"Even so. Did I not tell you that a woman's hair is her pride? For one woman to speak of another's hair so lightly, even in jest, is highly improper."

"I..."

What was so wrong with the ponytail comparison? Unable to comprehend, a flustered Yoo Jeong opened his mouth to argue but ultimately swallowed his words. The world of women's conversation was filled with things he simply could not understand. He realized it was much easier to just accept that he had made another mistake and move on.

"Regardless of your past, you are a woman now, are you not?" Setting the comb down, the Mistress ran her bare fingers through Yoo Jeong's hair. "A person must always look toward tomorrow. To do that, it is crucial to accept your present self, even if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it is painful and difficult."

"Mistress..."

"Which is why..." The somber mood evaporated in an instant as she rummaged through her belongings and placed something in front of Yoo Jeong. "Shall we dye your hair?"

The practice of dyeing hair had a surprisingly long history. While most did it for cosmetic reasons, the Haomen's approach to dyeing was somewhat different.

"Hair color and style influence a first impression far more than you might think." Hwayeolluju explained as she mixed a special dye brought from the Haomen with water. "Since we deal in information, we often have to disguise ourselves. Because of that, our Haomen's dyeing techniques are quite exceptional."

"And so," Yoo Jeong asked with a slightly uncomfortable expression, "why do I need to dye my hair?"

"Because of the rumors."

"Rumors?"

"A strange rumor has been circulating. They say a highly skilled female martial artist with snow-white hair and a sword at her waist has been flying freely across ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hangzhou." Hwayeolluju smiled with her eyes, her gaze clearly saying, You know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the reason better than anyone, don't you?

"Ah."

"Some are even making a fuss, claiming that the Lady of Yue has returned."

She was a legendary woman of ancient times who was said to have taught swordsmanship to King Goujian of Yue and his soldiers during his period of self-imposed hardships. Despite being a woman, her swordsmanship was so peerless that it was said no one could dare oppose the Yue soldiers who had received her teachings. Furthermore, her beauty was said to be as striking as her martial prowess. To the people of the Zhejiang region, the Lady of Yue was akin to a guardian deity.

"It happens to be the boating season, so there are more outsiders than usual, and the legend of the Lady of Yue is such an intriguing topic that even this humble one could not suppress all the rumors."

Though she acted like a playful older sister, she was a member of the Haomen, a sect that specialized in information. In fact, Hwayeolluju was the very branch leader responsible for the entire Zhejiang Province. Moreover, she had kept her promise not to leak any information regarding the Sword Empress, proving herself an ally to Yoo Jeong's group. Therefore, her claim that the rumors were spreading uncontrollably was undoubtedly true.

"Right now, they simply call you the Lady of Yue. But a silver-haired, sword-wielding martial artist is a rare sight. As time passes, people will inevitably begin to associate you with the Sword Empress." Her proposal to dye his hair was ultimately a measure to prevent that connection from being made.

"You have a reason to keep the... Sword Empress's whereabouts a secret, correct?"

At her question, both Yoo Jeong and Namgung Sua froze. Do we still need to keep it a secret?

Originally, the reason for hiding the Sword Empress's condition was simple: she was not in her right mind. If that became known, it would not only nullify the Covenant of the Northern Sword but also invite countless dangers from those targeting her. Thus, they had blocked all information regarding her. But now, his master had ascended, and the threat to her safety was gone. The only remaining issue was the Covenant of the Northern Sword. If so... Is there really a need to keep hiding it? If he posed as his master instead, he could at least buy some time regarding the covenant.

Yet, Yoo Jeong could not bring himself to speak. It wasn't for a simple reason like fear of danger or a reluctance to impersonate his master. As Yoo Jeong hesitated, caught in an emotion he himself could barely describe—

"Please do it," Namgung Sua spoke up, preempting him.

"Sua?"

She nodded, locking eyes with Yoo Jeong as if she understood a reason that even he had not yet fully grasped.

"Very well. Now, do not move, young master. It has been a while since this humble one has done this personally, so I might make a mistake."

Still, it feels a bit empty now that she's gone.

Perhaps it was a habit from training young courtesans, but Hwayeolluju had constantly emphasized proper feminine deportment whenever she looked at him. Yoo Jeong had found it exhausting and had tried to avoid her because of it. Yet, only a few days after leaving Hangzhou, he already felt a trace of longing. He must have grown fond of her.

Thinking of Hwayeolluju, Yoo Jeong stroked his newly dyed black hair. His gesture mirrored the way Namgung Sua had stroked hers just days before.

It's better for moving in the dark, too. I think it was a good choice.

His original silver hair had shimmered even under the faint moonlight. At night, it practically cast a halo around him. If he hadn't dyed it, he would have had to awkwardly cover his head.

Suddenly, the image of a young girl in Taoist robes and a headpiece, scratching her itchy head, came to mind, bringing a faint smile to Yoo Jeong's lips. I think I finally understand how you felt back then, Master.

But the warm smile quickly faded. As he recalled his current location, Yoo Jeong's gaze turned cold and sharp. The Punglim Sect.

The target written in the blood-written letter left by the innkeeper was indeed the Punglim Sect. Of course, he couldn't blindly swing his sword based solely on the words of a dead man. He had taken his time to investigate the Punglim Sect, only to discover that they were an exceptionally vile group.

Nevertheless, to be absolutely certain, Yoo Jeong had infiltrated their grounds to verify the truth himself. His stealthy movements as he slipped inside to confirm the innkeeper's words were incomparably more refined than they had been during his encounter with the Blood Battle Sect.

And moments later—