Interlude 3: A Proper Apology
"Because it was wrong. My ancestors... they committed such a terrible act. They did something unforgivable to you, ajussi."
"......"
Jang Cheon offered no reply.
Cheon Sohyang's voice grew even softer. She hung her head low, mumbling like a child who had done wrong.
"So, I thought... if you've done something wrong, you have to apologize. The one who should apologize is our family head... but right now, that's me, so... ajussi?"
Jang Cheon still said nothing. He thought he'd misheard her. So he showed no reaction. He couldn't.
In truth, he hadn't understood the words at all.
"Ajussi?"
This child had come to apologize. Prostrating before his wife's grave, begging forgiveness. Kneeling, bowing her head, offering herself to his judgment as was the custom of his era. That was the weight of atonement.
No matter how bright her personality, she couldn't be ignorant of that burden.
"A-ah, ajussi. Are you mad...?"
"Why would I be mad?"
But there were more pressing matters than pondering such things. Jang Cheon knew how to prioritize.
He had to comfort his disciple, who looked terrified thinking he'd been lost in thought.
......There was no reason for him to be angry. No matter how he racked his brain, none came to mind.
So he spoke.
"No. There's no reason for me to be angry at you."
The winter wind was bitterly cold. Jang Cheon's heart still lingered half in the past.
That day had been winter too. The chill had driven him to bundle up before stepping outside.
He'd seen flames devouring his home from afar. The masked assailants were merciless; even his super first-rate martial prowess couldn't match them.
In the chaos, his retainers had come. They'd said his wife and child were safely evacuated, that his father, the retired family head, urged him to bide his time for future plans.
Only later did he learn they'd lied to save his life. Far too late.
He'd retreated into the mountains for nine years of training. Only upon reaching the Transformation Realm could he begin his path of vengeance.
He'd killed the Semun family head first—the one who'd orchestrated the raid. Hung him from a flagpole with a sword to his throat.
He hadn't had Heuk-yo then, so it wasn't even half a sword.
What had the Semun head replied?
Denials, blame-shifting, begging. When had it started? When he'd stopped needing proof.
When he'd grown indifferent to confessions and documents, killing those who came without a care.
Until Cheon Yomyeong captured him and he vowed revenge in that annex. No, until this child began tugging at his chains.
All along, just like that.
"Then... I have the right to apologize?"
Jang Cheon looked at Cheon Sohyang. He gazed quietly into her clear, pure eyes.
Something he'd lost. Something he'd likely never regain.
So Jang Cheon didn't know how to respond. Heavier than Cheon Yomyeong's sword strikes, than the Namgung head's Emperor Sword Form.
Yet he was the family head. Though he'd become a murim public enemy and forgotten for long years, his tenacious life hadn't ended. He'd realized he was still the Jang family head.
No one but Jang Cheon himself could grant that permission. So, with great effort, he answered.
"......Yes."
Only then did the girl's face relax in relief. She patted her chest with a small hand and resumed eating.
Jang Cheon poured fiery liquor into his empty cup. The alcohol burned especially hot in the cold wind.
The grave might still be there. After so much time, weeds would overrun it. The charred ruins might be someone's new home.
But that place was Jang Cheon's hometown.
He spoke.
"Yes."
Traveling in winter was harsh, so when the weather warmed...
"Let's go see my home."
"Yes, ajussi!"
Cheon Sohyang answered with a smile.
Just then, fireworks burst in the distance. Pheew— tiny lights spilled over the window frame.
Cheers echoed from the far sky. Firework glow painted Cheon Sohyang's cheeks red.
"Together."
It was New Year's.
All winter, the murim world was unusually quiet. The great killer Black and White Sword Ghost of Sacheon had vanished. Even the Demonic Cult fell silent.
The imperial court, as always, was mired in power struggles, while the Western Temple monks moved in quiet deliberation.
Strange rumors swirled in the markets. Tales that a renowned young master of Anhui was no man but a man-eating monster—and some boldly whispered the culprit was Namgung In, eldest son of the Namgung family.
And spring arrived. The chill faded from winds crossing the Great Pa Mountains. Plum blossoms bloomed wildly, then fell one by one.
As the Murim Alliance drummed up hype for the Murim Conference in Shaanxi, and guest inn heroes bickered over who would claim this year's dragon and phoenix titles, Jang Cheon stood in the courtyard gazing at flowers.
"Ajussi. Do you know what that flower's called?"
His cherished disciple stood beside him.
Around New Year's, Cheon Sohyang had made progress in her martial arts. Her master's high realm and diligent teaching helped, but her own effort was greatest.
The girl could now form sword qi. She glimpsed the super first-rate realm, if only faintly.
In just a year.
Regardless, she pointed innocently at the flower.
"That pink one there."
"An Azalea, isn't it?"
Jang Cheon replied indifferently.
Azaleas were common. You'd see them countless times riding a carriage down the road.
"Instead of that, study the flaws in the Seven Forms. I've told you time and again—no matter how great, even Cheon Yomyeong regresses without daily refinement of forms. He's no favorite of mine, but a Shaolin Vajra Monk once said that even grass and flowers hold the principles of martial arts..."
"Yah!"
"......What are you doing?"
"A present for ajussi."
As her master imparted precious teachings, the girl had no intention of listening. Before his lecture could build, she squatted by the azalea, plucked a bunch, and offered it to him.
"Pretty, right?"
Her master accepted the flowers awkwardly. He had no idea what to do with them.
In his memory, azaleas were mere roadside weeds.
But he couldn't discard what his disciple gave him, so he held them in his palm, staring blankly.
Then, abruptly...
"You've grown a lot taller."
"I've grown up now too."
"Have you?"
A chuckle escaped him. Grown up? A child not even initiated into the Transformation Realm?
Without thinking, Jang Cheon reached out and brought his hand to Cheon Sohyang's head.
"Eep."
"Ah?"
Both startled naturally. As Jang Cheon hastily withdrew, Cheon Sohyang grabbed his hand instead.
And guided it to stroke her hair.
"W-what absurdity is this?"
Too shocked to pull away, Jang Cheon froze. His hand lingered with the feel of her soft locks and the unusually warm remnant of her body heat.
He had no clue how to react. Scold her? Make her train more? But he'd been the one to try it first, hadn't he?
Meanwhile, Cheon Sohyang leaned into his hand again. She closed her eyes.
"I like this."
The girl looked utterly content.
So Jang Cheon hesitated and didn't withdraw. Watching her nuzzle his palm, he awkwardly changed the subject.
"......Have you packed everything?"
"Yesss."
"Nothing forgotten? Incense, books, travel permit—all checked?"
"I double-checked."
It was departure day. Shaanxi was far, crossing mountains. The roads of Bashu were treacherous.
Time had passed; the paths Jang Cheon remembered might be gone.
"Check twice, three times. Forgetting means buying midway."
"You're the one I'm worried about, ajussi. You forgot the golden sore salve earlier."
"What use has a man who won't die from a sword wound for salve?"
"Still, better to bring it."
"Cultivate your martial arts in that time. My realm has reached Manifestation, and my travel experience dwarfs yours. No need to worry about me—focus on grasping the principles of the Twin Phoenix Cooperative Dance."
"Yesss. You packed spare shoes too, right?"
"......I merely forgot amid my busyness. More importantly, how long do you plan to keep your head in my hand?"
"Until we leave."
It was spring. Jang Cheon cleared his throat, feeling the warm sunlight for once.
The skies were clear, the air fresh. Few days were better for travel.
To visit the grave on the anniversary, some leeway in time was wise.
So.
"Then let's depart."
After a final mental checklist, Jang Cheon rose.
Cheon Sohyang followed with a faintly reluctant look.
Master and disciple shouldered their packs and passed beyond Seongdo's walls.
Embarking on a long journey.