Q&A - 1
In winter, a great calamity struck Seongdo. Over thirty people lost their lives, and the property burned to ashes amounted to tens of thousands of nyang. The damage to the Murim Alliance was even more severe. An entire branch office collapsed, with no survivors.
The Sima Family pointed to the Demonic Cult as the culprits and declared a blood vendetta on their own. The Demonic Cult's response was swift. They countered with the shocking claim that the Sima Family had colluded with them, presenting various pieces of evidence and naming the Sima as the true perpetrators. The murim world plunged into chaos.
Before the grand justification of vengeance, all debate lost its power. Who had massacred the people in the Seongdo branch? Who had slaughtered the civilians and set the buildings ablaze? The Namgung remained silent, the Nine Great Sects dispatched an investigation team, and unusually, the Tang Family—the head house of Sacheon—offered no opinion at all.
Yet everyone knew. The moment the true culprit was revealed, the Sacheon Tang Family would move against the Sima before anyone else.
Rumors spread. Tales circulated of a ghost-possessed sword awakening at Shaolin Temple. Whispers spoke of Mount Hua's sect leader breaking his secluded cultivation to wander the jianghu alone. And then there was the utterly preposterous street gossip: the Divine Immortal Ghost Sword Sima Jingyeong and the Blood Demon Lord Yi Siyang—known for their suicidal pacts—had actually been slaughtered by some mysterious master.
The Murim Alliance knew the truth and was covering it up, added the tantalizing embellishment. The gossips went wild. Defeating two Transformation Realm experts head-on? That alone earned a spot among the Ten Great Masters of the world. No, even the least of the Ten Greats, the Heaven-Piercing Sword, could pull it off. The new master's realm must be Transformation Realm at least. Perhaps even Manifestation Realm...
"A terrifying expert like the Lion Sage himself—let us call him the Black and White Sword Ghost!"
And so, as the memory of the calamity faded and the appointed day for the decisive battle drew near, the Black and White Sword Ghost who had plunged Seongdo into terror...
Blink. He closed his eyes. Blink. He gently opened them again. A pleasant breeze swept across his face. These past few days had been unusually warm for winter. Closing his eyes like this, it almost felt like autumn.
Blink, blink. It seemed he'd dozed off for a moment. But something was off about what he saw—it didn't match his memory. He was sure he'd been sitting on a chair outside the Doju Inn, so why was he seeing something strange? Like big, round eyes staring down at him. Or a delicate, adorable face that, if she ventured into the jianghu, would surely earn a nickname with the character for phoenix in it.
A lively voice rang out.
"Oh, it's Ajussi."
"......"
"Hi there."
She waved hello with her palm. Jang Cheon soon realized his head wasn't resting on a hard floor but something soft. Naturally, it was Cheon Sohyang's lap.
"Wh-what the hell is this?!"
"Ow!"
The shocking reality of receiving a lap pillow from his disciple. Jang Cheon jerked his head up in a panic, only to bonk foreheads with Cheon Sohyang.
A Mount Tai-like wave of embarrassment crashed over him—one that even the pinnacle of Manifestation Realm martial prowess couldn't save him from.
"Ow ow ow!"
"You okay? No— that's not the point. What do you think you're doing? For god's sake, have some dignity!"
"Ugh......"
Cheon Sohyang clutched her flushed-red forehead and protested.
"But if you sleep like that, you'll catch a cold!"
"Immortals don't catch colds! Make some sense!"
"You never know. My constitution's super warm anyway."
She wasn't wrong. Ever since the Void Divine Jade shattered, Cheon Sohyang had undergone strange changes. Pure yang energy coiling in her dantian was the first, and her newfound resistance to winter's chill was the second. Both were utterly unfamiliar to Jang Cheon.
He knew the human body intimately from cultivating the Immortal Heavenly Spirit Art, but that knowledge skewed toward combat and martial prowess. Even he was ignorant of things like blocked meridians or special constitutions. Let alone in a woman.
What worried him most was...
"......Still no pain? No signs of conflict with your heart method?"
"Nope."
"Your qi and blood, your subtle meridians—fine? No nightmares or anything?"
"Of course not. I'm totally, completely fine!"
No symptoms at all in Cheon Sohyang. That day, everything in the basement had burned to nothing. The book she'd seen called the Flame God Ritual Scripture, the clues left by the Demonic Cult remnants—all reduced to ash under the blazing inferno.
Jang Cheon knew better. Sometimes, the absence of symptoms was the greater danger. The bird pattern left on the back of her neck, and the incomprehensible words it had shrieked in its death throes. That bird was no benevolent entity. How could he not worry about the lingering aftereffect it left behind?
He was her master, after all.
"Tell me immediately if even the slightest discomfort arises. No hiding it."
"Ajussi, I'm past twenty now, you know. I get what you're saying, but..."
"Doesn't matter. You don't understand it yet."
He tried to soothe her pouting face. Lately, she felt different from before. As a child, he would have scolded her outright. How dare a disciple keep life-or-death secrets from her master? But now his disciple had grown tall, no longer standing on tiptoes to look up at him.
"......"
Jang Cheon shook his head at the odd feeling. What was he even thinking? He could barely salvage his own dignity as it was.
"Ah, the firewood's running low."
"I'll go buy some."
He rummaged in the storeroom for a rice sack. He pushed away idle thoughts. Old Man Park, having recovered his strength, had sent rice from the autumn harvest. But it would tide them over for now at best—two people couldn't stretch it through the next year.
Put another way, it meant Jang Cheon was freeloading off Cheon Sohyang's house.
No helping it. He had no identification papers. Finding work was tough. Becoming a constable or wandering ronin? His disciple's safety made him reluctant to leave the house for long. Cheon Sohyang insisted it was fine—better than fine, she beamed happily—but...
Was this any way for a master to act? Before even calling himself a master, mooching off his enemy's household was unacceptable. He should at least hire a physician for his disciple's sake.
How had it come to this?
"......Time has flown by."
He'd felt it keenly since the Seongdo incident. The changed landscape of the Central Plains. Sects he'd never heard of, items utterly alien to him. Sometimes he thought commerce had outpaced martial progress.
In all those moments, a strange sensation gripped him. Time slipping away too fast, as if everything in the world rushed past him alone, like the Yangtze's Three Gorges rapids.
No one from his memories remained. Not his enemies. Not his benefactors. Not the beloved faces or everyday things. Not even the ruins of the Jang Family manor somewhere in Shaanxi.
"Hoo."
Lost in such thoughts, he'd wandered into Seongdo's streets. He'd reached Dangcheon Road, where anything not sold simply didn't exist—packed tight with exotic wares and cheap fabrics, the busiest spot around.
There, in an open square, a bizarre scene unfolded.
"Make way! I'm next!"
"No, I lined up first."
Martial artists with swords at their waists swarmed like clouds. Their auras and attire marked them no mere rabble. The silk-robed onlookers in fine brocade were inspectors from the famed Pure Sword Sect nearby.
They were all staring at an intriguing poster.
Seeking Experts Proficient in Martial Arts.
Finding those who can discern the martial arts of the man depicted in the drawing and identify their flaws.
A prize of one thousand nyang to whoever passes all three trials.
"Interested? It's that famous Three Riddles of Geumjeoksan."
"Geumjeoksan...... Who's that?"
"An eccentric rich man. Always hires a skilled servant boy as his proxy, posts riddles, and throws money around. He's stuck to Hebei and Shaanxi till now, but for some reason, he's come all the way to distant Sacheon."
A somewhat familiar merchant struck up a conversation with Jang Cheon. His eyes were fixed on the poster like it was nailed there.
"Are the riddles that tough?"
"Tough as hell. Yesterday, even the Iron Sword of Danhwa embarrassed himself and left. What do you say—tempted?"
The Iron Sword of Danhwa was a fairly renowned first-rate expert. Probably why the crowd had gathered.
Jang Cheon pondered, firewood slung on his back. One thousand nyang. No small sum. Enough for a comfortable winter, and perhaps funds to discreetly inquire into Cheon Sohyang's matter.
Word was, the drawing on the poster was the entry condition for challenging Geumjeoksan's Three Riddles. Beside it sat stacks of answer sheets from countless challengers, watched over by a bored-looking girl servant.
She seemed no older than seventeen, unusually short for her age.
"Need brush, ink, and paper?"
"......"
Jang Cheon quietly took the brush from her and dashed off his answer in one fluid stroke. As was customary in murim affairs, no real name was needed.
So he wrote the alias he'd used long ago. No one would recognize it now.
"Thanks."
He handed the neatly folded answer sheet to the servant girl.
"You're really submitting it like this?"
"Yes. It's not that difficult, is it?"
"......Yeah, go ahead."
The servant checked the sheet, glancing at Jang Cheon with a flicker of interest in her eyes before turning back to the crowd.
The name on the submission: four characters reading Heuksa Palya.