Dark Clouds
Power drained from Cheon Sohyang's hand. It slipped away with a trickle, sending fresh red blood streaming down the blade. It was a scent Jang Cheon knew all too well. The smell of blood. The sword's edge was no longer black, there were no more debts of vengeance to repay, and no electric thrill coursed through his grip—but it was undoubtedly blood flowing along the blade.
Jang Cheon stared blankly, feeling that familiarity once more. And then he heard it.
"S-sorry... I'm so sorry..."
His disciple's head hung low, her eyes glistening, unable to even meet his gaze as she spoke. Her words came out as timid as a mouse slipping into its hole.
Jang Cheon recognized something else familiar. He was a Murim criminal. A Manifestation Realm Murim criminal at that. So he knew. She was terrified. Utterly frightened. It was a setup he knew inside out: the quavering voice, the hunched shoulders, the trembling body. The subtle shifts in her aura.
Ah, yes. Cheon Sohyang was scared out of her wits.
And there was one more thing that completed the deduction. Much to his disgust—something he desperately wanted to deny—Jang Cheon felt a deep-seated satisfaction bubbling up from his unconscious. Because she was afraid, he was pleased. Even to his own body, the Manifestation Realm was the Manifestation Realm. He couldn't deny it.
"......"
He nearly spat out a curse. Jang Cheon was bewildered. No, this isn't me. It has to be the outer gods' doing. I can't be this ugly.
In a futile bout of self-denial, he tried to twist the sword deeper, then hurriedly looked at Cheon Sohyang. Finally, he managed to speak.
"......Forget what you just heard. Why are you foolishly clinging to the sword like that?"
"Y-yes."
Nausea welled up in him. A foul stench hung in the air. It was only natural. They were in a cave, surrounded by two corpses. The smell of death was horrific. But it couldn't compare to the disgust he felt toward himself...
Caught between dizziness and impulse, Jang Cheon seized Cheon Sohyang's arm. Her hand was a mess. A little deeper, and she would have severed a tendon. It must have meant she'd gripped the hilt with all her might.
"When... holding a sword, be careful. Don't treat your body so carelessly."
"......"
The disciple couldn't even reply. Jang Cheon hurriedly sealed the acupoints on both her hands, yanked the sword from her chest in a rush, and watched the wound knit itself closed as if time had reversed. Only then did something occur to him—something he'd forgotten for far too long. Sealing acupoints wasn't enough for wounds. Without good medicine, they'd scar badly.
Fortunately, Jang Cheon had packed golden wound salve before leaving. Yes, in his sleeve. One of his disciples had prepared it for him.
As he absentmindedly reached for it, the memory hit him. That disciple was now mustering her courage, mumbling through trembling lips.
"This unworthy disciple... overstepped... Please forgive me..."
The "please" came out as faint as a flickering lantern flame. Her tear-filled eyes gazed up at Jang Cheon.
Once again, Jang Cheon thought: This child's eyes were more dangerous than Cheon Yomyeong's sword. They couldn't even be compared to something like the Twin Phoenix Cooperative Dance.
It hurt. Cheon Sohyang thought so. Her hand hurt. But pain was familiar to the girl, so she didn't mind much. Truthfully, she didn't have the mental space for it.
All her nerves were fixed on the man before her. Had she perhaps displeased him? Had she offended him?
Looking back, the bond between that man and the girl was thin as a spider's thread, hazy and one-sided. A single breeze could scatter it away. It had always been that way.
He taught her martial arts. He looked after her. He listened to her worries. When she was in danger, he rushed in, swung his sword, and eliminated the scary, frightening things.
The girl had lost her parents young. The people she met upon entering the jianghu were slaughtered by the Sima family. On the way back, she'd endured days so painful she lost faith in humanity.
Yet through it all, he still asked her unchangingly if she was okay.
She'd forgotten in her happiness. Or perhaps she'd wanted to forget. If these days could last forever. If she could forever live in Seongdo's house, cooking breakfast for him, laying his head in her lap, stroking his hair, ending each day like that.
That would have been enough.
"Forgive me..."
"......What for?"
But she was his enemy. It wasn't her doing. The girl wanted to shake her head. I didn't do it, she wanted to say. It was my ancestors I never even met—my father's father and his kin. I swear I won't. If I'd been there, I would have persuaded them somehow and stopped it.
But that wouldn't erase his pain. She'd glimpsed fragments of it as a child. She'd seen how much a careless word hurt him. She hated that. It was a pain incomparable to her wounded hand.
Being the enemy meant he could abandon her at any moment, and she couldn't utter a single word of protest. She'd forgotten that.
So the girl couldn't lift her head. She felt like she'd ruined his mood.
"I..."
She racked her brains. What should she say? Living by the principles he'd taught was hard. How could she seek forgiveness here?
Her words dragged on. She glanced up at Jang Cheon's face, then flinched preemptively, fearing irritation in his eyes.
"I, um..."
"Are you apologizing for acting out of concern for your master—with good intentions? Or for throwing yourself into harm's way without realizing it... If so, that would truly be the sin..."
Jang Cheon dragged out his words too. None of it reached the girl's ears. She just desperately suppressed her anxiety.
That Jang Cheon wasn't angry, wasn't glaring coldly at her, but looking at her warmly as always—yes, just as always—that alone soothed Cheon Sohyang's heart.
Gathering himself, Jang Cheon continued.
"Never... do it again. Value yourself."
"Yes."
The girl answered. But she couldn't mean it from the heart. She couldn't return to innocent cheerfulness after forgiveness like in her childhood. It was impossible. She knew worldly matters didn't resolve with a word or two.
The girl had grown up. That's why her chest tightened. But because she was grown, she could still mimic a bright child's innocence.
Cheon Sohyang smiled radiantly.
"I will, ajusshi."
"Fine. Why try so hard to impress a master who won't die anyway."
"Can't you buy me dang-o later?"
"......I'll think about it."
It was a journey to seek atonement. Cheon Sohyang knew that fact better than anyone. Perhaps even more than her master. To an excessive degree, beyond what he imagined.
Jang Cheon and Cheon Sohyang left Yeonggang. They didn't mention slaying the county magistrate. Fortunately, the locals held no fondness for him, so the authorities didn't pursue them. From what they heard in Hanzhong, there was even concern about demonic cult influence.
They couldn't meet Yi Cheollyeong. It seemed they had departed ahead in haste.
Slightly worrisome was that the Black and White Crows had vanished without a trace. They'd surely been imprisoned, yet escaped somehow. No clue where they'd gone.
Encounters on the road were fleeting like this.
Master and disciple stayed one more day in Hanzhong before resuming their journey. One more pass remained to reach Shaanxi: the road linking Hanzhong and Shaanxi. The second trial on the Ba-Shu plank roads of Pae State.
The Jinryeong Mountains.
They permitted no man passage. Legend said even dragons needed resolve to cross. Fail, and you'd end as a shadow buried in the darkness of countless trees.
"This is where the plank road begins, eh? Did you pack everything?"
"The bedroll, food, um... anyway, I think I got it all!"
"Double-check. Climb the plank road and decide to turn back, and you'll regret it."
"I packed ajusshi's stuff meticulously too, so don't worry!"
"What do you take me for? I'm the one who should be looking after you, not the other way around..."
Master and disciple stood before the stone gate, walking one ahead then the other. Morning light filtered through heavy clouds.
Jang Cheon paused mid-stride, staring at a distant peak.
"Ajusshi?"
"Nothing. Just thinking of playing at being a Daoist."
He knew only swordsmanship, nothing of reading heavenly omens. No way to decipher if the oppressive clouds foretold some monstrous ill omen.
Even if they did, it didn't matter. Not compared to the torment twisting his heart.
Still.
"......With the sky overcast, we must be cautious. Watch your step so you don't fall."
His sharp intuition whispered persistent unease. The mountain shadows brimmed with sinister darkness.
Jang Cheon watched the scene a moment longer, then stepped forward. In the sky over the distant peaks, the suffocating clouds writhed unusually.
As if alive.