The Rain Clears
Everything was over.
Even the true words that expressed the mental image of a decisive ultimate technique—the period at the end of a lifetime of martial arts—had a beginning, and thus an end.
The turbulent events faded like a fierce blaze dying down, leaving only faint, smoldering sparks.
Hwangbo Cheonseong, head of the Hwangbo Family, knew he had been checkmated, but the water was already spilled. Too many people had witnessed it for the matter to be smoothed over. Too fundamental was the result, drawn from the fair one-on-one duel that martial artists held dearer than life itself. The moment he tried to crush it underfoot, the stories that would circulate forever across the vast jianghu were too uncertain for him to risk. In the end, the Hwangbo Family settled with the Jegal Family by transferring the Shaanxi farmlands they had purchased through Unwol Jiju as proxy—at seventy percent of the original purchase price.
The moment the agreement was sealed, the Hwangbo contingent left Shaanxi in haste, as if they could not bear to remain a moment longer. The Jegal Family once again firmly secured its place as the overlord of Shaanxi.
Unwol Jiju, having lost its backing, could hardly expect proper treatment from the Jegal Family after everything it had done.
Still, I thought they’d wipe them out in one stroke. Guess not.
At my question, Jegal Sea shook her head.
“Everything in this world has a balance of yin and yang. Solving things that cleanly and forcefully in one go is the stuff of gossips’ hero tales—or the fantasy of people who’ve never managed an organization.”
Given Shaanxi’s geography, with so many people coming and going, she believed a complete purge of the underworld was impossible. If eradication was impossible, then a leader was needed to manage it—and she seemed to have Unwol Jiju in mind for that role.
“But this time I’ll hold the leash tight. I’m not foolish enough to repeat the mistake from Grandfather’s generation. And…”
Her eyes grew complicated for a moment.
“I have no expectation that they’ll meekly lower their heads and live quietly just because they took one hard hit.”
I agreed with that.
After the Hwangbo group vanished, only the writhing remnants of Unwol Jiju and So Cheonpa remained in the empty arena. So Cheonpa had slammed his head against the stage until he blacked out, then staggered to his feet much later. When he woke, his face was a mask of pure humiliation. The soiled trousers, the fact that he had knelt and bashed his head before commoners he had treated as less than insects—even for a black-path man, it was a devastating blow to his pride.
What conversation later passed between the Hwangbo Family head and So Cheonpa as Unwol Jiju’s representative, I do not know. What they said about cleaning up the aftermath and assigning blame remains known only to them. Whether the faint spark of this incident would simply die out or flare into another wildfire, no one could say.
Click.
In the chaos of So Cheonpa slamming his head against the stone seven times, Eun Seollyeong had picked up something that spilled from his robes.
…This is.
Her silver eyes narrowed. In her hand was a red ring. Her pale fingers delicately lifted it and studied it for a long while. She put it away separately. After that, she did not open her mouth again until everything was finished.
Several days passed like that.
I stayed at the Jegal Family, resting while waiting for the brand of recognition that would come from Jegal Sea’s younger sibling—one of the Oho-samhwa, as she had promised.
The wind blew. Rain fell several times—a cold, heavy rain that made white breath rise. Through the round window I stared blankly at the courtyard. The dry winter earth of the yard was growing moist. Clear drops fell from the eaves, drawing concentric circles.
My arms and body were thickly smeared with golden wound salve and wrapped in bandages. When I walked, a wound near my thigh made me limp a little. I could have used Emergency Body Restoration for an instant recovery, but a man who had spent his days walking a tightrope of survival was not about to waste such a precious trump card lightly.
Ssshhh…
The rain I thought would stop in a day continued for several more. After returning to the Jegal Family, I barely saw Jegal Sea at all. As the de facto head of the family, she was no doubt buried in the aftermath. Eun Seollyeong also seemed to have matters to settle; I did not run into her again. Thanks to that, I could sit quietly in my room and rest.
“Could I borrow an umbrella?”
Through a Jegal maid I borrowed a bamboo umbrella. I wore no mask. My clothes, too, were deliberately changed to brighter tones, unlike the dark attire of Biryu of the Blood Death Sect. I pulled the umbrella over my head and walked out.
Cold rain—caught between winter and spring—slid down the bamboo ribs and fell. A few drops wet my shoulder. White breath curled from my lips. Every sound was buried under the falling rain; nothing could be heard. No one else was about. I walked through the rain as if I were alone in the world.
Watching the falling rain, I thought of someone.
Do you know why I keep telling you these useless stories now and then?
Asura had shared many stories with me, not just martial training. The pot-bellied middle-aged man would poke at the campfire with his easygoing smile and say:
It’s because you resemble me endlessly. So the words I let slip now—if you turn them over and over, one day the same sentence will come to you differently.
Asura had said that every person in this world lives their own life, and in the midst of it carries some purpose they cannot compromise. The collisions of those uncompromising purposes create the reality in which people live together.
Uncompromising purposes… each person’s life…
I passed through the front courtyard of the Jegal Family. The broken arena and platform lay scattered. The place that had once been filled with noise, blood, screams, and cheers—every emotion swirling—had been washed clean by the rain, leaving nothing. Only scattered bloodstains and shattered stone proved that the memory had not been a lie.
…
I moved on again. I walked the streets. I followed the road. With Mumyeong’s help, even though I had been there only once, I walked without hesitation. I was glad it was raining. I thought it several times.
I had always believed I was clumsy with people. I had wanted to speak well. I had wished for a friend with whom I could talk freely, say everything on my mind, laugh and cry and chatter without reserve. Yet approaching others felt awkward to me. My temperament was not good either. I flared up easily, grew overly emotional, and overthought useless things. Mumyeong had said that personality was the exact opposite of a typical martial artist’s.
Murmur, murmur.
The quiet streets grew crowded as I neared my destination. With slightly widened eyes I carefully pushed through the murmuring crowd. Just in case someone recognized me, I pressed the bamboo umbrella deeper over my face than necessary.
Ssshhh…
The rain was stopping. What arrived after the rain was a spring of surprising warmth.
“Hey! Don’t push! I’ve told you repeatedly!”
It was a half-collapsed fence. On it hung a crooked nameplate that had clearly been carved and inked by hand: Dangsa Sect. On the porch, Gang Ilbi—one arm in a splint and bandages, his whole body covered in wounds—was shouting.
“I’m not taking new disciples yet because my body hasn’t recovered! So just let me rest for a month—no, even three weeks—so I can get myself together…!”
“Then at least take the tuition first! That way we won’t keep pestering you!”
On his porch, rice and all sorts of food piled up as entrance fees from every direction. Gang Ilbi looked flustered. His face was red. He had even injured his jaw and could not speak fluently. The gathered people laughed and urged him on.
“How did you raise that fierce disciple of yours?!”
“No, before that—when are you going to tell us about that decisive ultimate technique, Biyeoksanryeon Namadangjagang?!”
“That’s right! He’s the pride of our Shaanxi, after all!”
Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was listening to his story.
“Ah, right. I should talk about that too. So from the very first training after I received the martial art, the process was really tough…!”
As Gang Ilbi opened his mouth, every eye fixed on him.
…
The rain had stopped. Even so, I stood behind the people with the umbrella still pressed down and listened to the story. Through the ribs of the umbrella I watched the bright smile on his sunken-cheeked face.
Gang Ilbi was smiling. Not because of the rice and wealth piled on his porch. He was being noticed. People were listening. He was being respected.
…..
I parted my lips a few times. I twitched, wanting to raise a hand toward him. I looked at the countless books stacked behind his shoulder—stories of the heroes of the jianghu, starting with Seonbihong’s Namadangjagang. I remembered the talks we had shared in that study. I also remembered the shameful moments when I had snapped at him with scolding words.
…
In the end I never raised my hand.
…Yeah.
This was enough, I thought. I slowly stepped backward. Leaving his yard, I folded the umbrella and shook off the water. Then I quietly returned to the Jegal Family.
Grass sprouted. Leaves unfurled on the dry winter branches. The storm of every emotion that had once swept through scattered like a butterfly’s spring dream into the faint spring air.
“When a grown man turns and walks away without a single word, there must be a reason heavier than Mount Tai.”
I stopped. The voice behind me was Gang Ilbi’s. He seemed to have hurried after me; he was a little out of breath.
“Are you an idiot? Even if you were in the crowd, the rain’s stopped—did you really think pressing an umbrella down over your face wouldn’t stand out?”
“….”
“Ah, don’t turn around.”
“What?”
I had been about to look back and froze. Gang Ilbi spoke in a deliberately cheerful voice.
“If I see your face right now I feel like you’ll cry. A man can’t cry over something like this, can he?”
“…..”
“You of all people should know. Surprisingly, men have a lot of tears. They just cry from the chest, so it doesn’t show.”
I opened my cracked lips. Drew in a breath. A moment later I let out a small breath and closed my mouth again. Gang Ilbi spoke first.
“And don’t say anything weird like ‘That’s not me.’ I may be a fraud, but I’m not a complete blockhead. Even with a mask on, the only person who saw Biyeoksanryeon was you. Of course I never dreamed that person was a genius rare even in the jianghu who could copy a martial art after seeing it once.”
At those words I let out a short laugh.
“Since I’m not looking at your face and my back is turned, I actually feel a little braver.”
“Hm?”
Holding the spring-rain-soaked umbrella in one hand, staring at the ground, I murmured.
“You can proudly say anywhere that you are the master who taught me.”
“…..”
“Leaving aside the learning of martial arts and techniques.”
I spoke in a voice that cracked here and there.
“The spirit you showed me became a milestone for the path I must walk in this world from now on. In that sense…”
I did not know what expression Gang Ilbi wore. My back was to him. And he would not know what expression I wore either.
“In spirit, at least, you are my true master.”
“Your…”
Gang Ilbi’s voice quietly carried on the spring breeze.
“If you happen to have a real name besides Biryu… may I ask it? I’ll keep the secret. I’m curious. Someone of your caliber doesn’t seem like he’d just be an assassin of the Blood Death Sect. Of course it’s fine if you don’t say… but still… so…”
Gang Ilbi said,
“If you trust your master.”
“…My name?”
I looked up at the blue sky. The hesitation lasted only a moment. I hated my surname. I loathed my family. That was still true. But at the same time, I felt it was a task to overcome, not something to deny.
“Moyong Bi.”
“Moyong…?”
Gang Ilbi’s voice rose a little.
“Don’t tell me—the Moyong of the Five Great Families?”
“Between us, surname and status aren’t important. You know that.”
I smiled quietly and murmured low.
“Gisi namadangjagang—as a man who must strengthen himself…”
“…!”
Gang Ilbi’s breath stopped. For the first and last time I turned around. Behind me stood Gang Ilbi with his broken arm fixed in place. Moisture already filled the corners of his eyes. He had been crying silently for some time.
He opened his mouth.
“…Angbo jeonghyung daega jujildongyang juhohan—with head held high and chest out, become a pillar for all and a true hero…”
I nodded. He nodded as well. No more words were spoken. He said nothing more either. That was the end of our conversation.
I turned my back and walked away from him. I do not know how long he watched me before I disappeared. I never looked back even once.
Squelch.
I climbed the muddy path wet with spring rain and headed for the rear gate of the Jegal Family. There, leaning against the gate, was Eun Seollyeong.
“Been for a walk?”
When our eyes met she straightened up.
“Were you waiting for me?”
She nodded.
“First, this. Jegal Sea asked me to give it to you.”
What she handed me was a seal stamped with the Jegal Family crest, glowing a vivid gold.
“Ah.”
I took it and stared at it for a long while. The day was already ending. Far away the twilight burned, dyeing the world in a crimson lotus sunset. The red light of dusk fell over me holding the seal and over her leaning against the wall, watching me.
She gazed at me quietly and spoke.
“Moyong Bi, do you have time right now?”
“Why?”
“Inside there are outdoor clothes Jegal Sea prepared in advance. Take off those worn martial robes, change into those, and come out. I’ll wait.”
“…? Clothes? Suddenly? What’s going on?”
Eun Seollyeong nodded.
“I’m going for a walk as well. Whenever I come to Shaanxi there is a place I always visit privately. The work is more or less settled now, and I feel like dropping by after a long time.”
“Jegal Sea is coming too, right? It’s been a while since I last saw her. She’s been completely out of sight lately.”
Eun Seollyeong shook her head.
“Just you and me. So hurry and change, then come out.”
“….”
The wind blew, and the black line crossing her white clothes swayed along the curves of her body. Eun Seollyeong stared at me fixedly with her silver eyes. I blinked.
“So… just the two of us?”