Appreciating Spring - 1
Jian Pass was treacherous terrain. Those seeking to hide their bodies and bide their strength always headed for this land. In the era of Chu-Han, Liu Bang had evaded Xiang Yu's eyes here; during the Three Kingdoms, Liu Bei had entrusted his life to it. Nestled in the winding mountain ridges, no force could easily penetrate. Yet nature was impartial, favoring no side. A slender thread linking the fertile fields of the Sichuan Basin and Shaanxi—this ancient road pieced together from wooden logs threading the towering peaks. The cramped, perilous path from which none returned: people called it Zando.
"Once you cross here, you'll enter Zando. This is the last village, so make sure to rest up!"
"I was just about to say that myself."
Six days out from Seongdo. Thanks to their Lightfoot Technique mastery, Cheon Sohyang and Jang Cheon arrived effortlessly before Sword Pavilion. It was a novel path for Jang Cheon. He'd crossed this Zando in chains.
Imprisoned in the thunder prison, he now retraced that road in reverse.
"I probably know it better than you, ajussi?"
What a cheeky disciple. And she wasn't even lying. Jang Cheon's memories were rather outdated, after all. The Sword Pavilion he remembered differed greatly from the one now. At least back then, there'd been no village like this, teeming with inns lining the approach.
"Hmm, which inn to try this time..."
Cheon Sohyang tapped her cheek, pondering. Last time alone, she'd stayed cheap—bedbugs crawling out at night, strange noises now and then. She couldn't put her master in such a place. But flashing wealth felt off too.
While Cheon Sohyang agonized, Jang Cheon strode purposefully somewhere.
"Let's try that one."
"Ah, Master!"
It was a shabby spot beyond the inn district. No multi-story pavilion, no fancy decorations—just a weathered signboard swaying precariously in the wind.
"Wind and Cloud Inn? Never heard of it..."
"I've heard of it."
"Pardon?"
Jang Cheon was faintly surprised. A small smile tugged at his lips. He hadn't expected this. It was a memory from his capture in Sichuan.
Words overheard while tightly bound in chains. Dragged by Cheon Yomyeong's hand to the inn. He allowed no moment's lapse—ever vigilant lest Jang Cheon flee at night, always keeping him close. That's why he remembered.
Same spot. Same name. The building had naturally changed—from a mere shack to something inn-like now. But holding the same place for three centuries meant it couldn't be all bad, at least.
Jang Cheon entered without hesitation.
"Two bowls of thin noodles, one side dish, and your house specialty. Any rooms left? We'd like to stay tonight."
"Right away on the noodles. And..."
The waiter paused thoughtfully, then asked just in case.
"One room, then?"
"N-no, no! Two rooms!"
"...A private suite, if you please."
"Got it. You two look so good together, thought you were a couple."
The waiter brushed it off casually, but Cheon Sohyang's face was already beet red. Jang Cheon coughed awkwardly, waiting for the noodles.
"This is where you ate with your great-grandmaster."
"Here?"
Her eyes widened round. Jang Cheon slipped in a tiny white lie.
"Aye. Right at this table, thin noodles together."
In truth, they'd been out in the yard. Cheon Yomyeong had brought the bowls, and they'd eaten—chained tight. But he wouldn't share that detail. She was his disciple, after all.
"How was it?"
"Hm? You mean your great-grandmaster?"
"No, the noodles."
Cheon Sohyang beamed. No interest in tales of her great-grandmaster, it seemed. Well, he was her ancestor, sort of. No matter—he had no reason to care for Cheon Yomyeong. Being ignored was a blessing.
Jang Cheon dredged up the memory. Not that he'd recall the taste.
"...Tasty. That's why I came here."
"Then it'll be tasty today too."
The waiter—oblivious to the history—chimed in aptly, setting down two steaming bowls. The fragrant broth whetted the appetite. Jang Cheon took a tentative bite, hopeful. Cheon Sohyang dove in heartily.
"Hm."
"Wow."
Words halted. Then Jang Cheon remembered. Those thin noodles with Cheon Yomyeong? Utterly vile.
Even Cheon Yomyeong had griped about the food.
"...The rooms should be fine. I've stayed here before, after all."
Jang Cheon steered the talk away.
*
One silver lining: the inn's thin noodles were the only dud. The stir-fried greens were decent, and the final chicken dish—steamed in liquor—was exceptional: aromatic, perfectly seasoned, delightful.
As they finished eating and rose,
"So what do we do! We can't just sit here!"
"But Chief, in a place like this..."
"You lot stay put. I'll find a way myself!"
Bam! A young man slammed his seat, storming out and vanishing.
The remaining group clucked their tongues sympathetically.
"We get his heart, but what can be done? Waiting's our only option."
"Better this way. Think Golden Dragon Merchant Group owns the roads? Lesson learned."
An familiar name drifted in the chatter. Jang Cheon asked casually,
"What's the trouble?"
"Oh, we're escorts from Gochang Escort Bureau in Seongdo. Took a big merchant caravan job, but the road's blocked—gonna miss the deadline. Chief's furious."
"Road blocked? What do you mean?"
"Well... A few days back, the pass lord issued an edict. To cross, need at least a Peak Realm martialist now."
Chuan Dao was tough even normally. Without a road guide, permits were stingy; harsh terrain bred endless threats. Landslides could strand you for days. But Jang Cheon had never heard of requiring a martial expert for passage.
He pressed; the man explained.
"Last winter, a monstrous fiend infiltrated, turned bandit. Elusive devil—can't catch him. Dodges the garrison easy, local sects won't touch it. Till they fetch a Dang family expert..."
"That'll take time."
"Aye. So meantime, only those with a Peak Realm escort pass. Our strongest's just First Rate, unluckily..."
Jang Cheon pondered. They had to cross Zando anyway; tagging with a group eased it. Plus, ties to Golden Dragon Merchant Group. Teaching travel meant such lessons.
"Sohyang, your thoughts?"
"Hmm... I'd like to help."
"Why so?"
He asked his disciple. She didn't deliberate long.
"'Cause I've got you now, ajussi."
Her solo scars had mostly healed. Cheon Sohyang no longer felt alone. Someone to rely on—stoutly so. Just having Jang Cheon sufficed to restore her pure brightness. Helping was instinct to the girl.
"Can't I try hard?"
"Good, but aid mustn't be rash. Weigh what we gain first."
"...Beg pardon, hero—are you of the jianghu?"
The escort eyed him dubiously. Unforeseen. He'd hoped to humble the chief; now real martialists appeared.
"Indeed. Realm... My disciple's just surpassed Peak. I'm better."
"Nice to meet you! Cheon Sohyang here!"
The black-robed man and the brightly waving, smiling girl—both looked barely past twenty. Hard to credit as Peak Realm.
The escort hesitated, about to speak—
"Hey, who's this?"
Their chief returned. Brief intros, then he dove into haggling. Generous silver for crossing Zando together. Worth the time saved, to him.
"I'm Yi Cheollyang. Fortunate to meet heroes in our pinch."
"Likewise—glad for company on a lonely road."
"...Chief, shouldn't we at least ask for nicknames? Proper checks before hiring."
A disgruntled escort whispered. Yi Cheollyang turned.
Fundamentally right. But deadlines loomed; misses cost big. Checking reps meant days lost—might as well wait for Dang experts. So he trusted his gut. This pair wouldn't cause mid-trip havoc.
"If that fiend pops out, you're our hope."
"No worries there."
"Folks can breathe now. Everyone fretted facing the Black-White Sword Ghost."
"What was that?"
"Didn't know? The fiend plaguing Chuan Dao fled Seongdo—the Black-White Sword Ghost. Monstrous scum."
"...Monstrous scum?"
Jang Cheon's eyes narrowed. Cheon Sohyang already covered her mouth, giggling.