I Will Remember
A moisture-laden wind began to howl roughly.
-Rumble, rumble….
The cool breeze of morning was gone without a trace.
-Rattle, rattle….
Every wooden window and gate of Cheonsubaekryeonsa began to shake. Leaves and dust that had been swept into a pile in one corner of the courtyard were scattered again in every direction.
-Rumble
Dark clouds climbing the mountain range swallowed the distant golden dawn and vanished into it.
“What kind of weather is this?”
A servant hurriedly gathered the laundry spread out in the courtyard and looked up at the sky. Suffocating humidity painted the entire world in shades of gray. Light drained from the world at a frightening speed.
-Crash! Boom!
Lightning began to strike. Even the willow trees swayed as if they would snap. Rain poured as though a dam in the heavens had burst. It was less that raindrops were falling and more that the sky itself was collapsing. The raindrops howled and wailed as they lashed the earth. Every sound was buried beneath the enormous roar of the rain. The whole world sank into a strange stillness amid the noise.
-Shaaaaa—.
The ground could no longer absorb the rainwater and spat it back out; raindrops bounced off that water so that it seemed the rain was rising from below as well as falling from above.
Every disciple packed into the training grounds abandoned their practice, covering their heads as they fled inside. The instructors went in. The servants went in.
-Clank, clank, clank.
Every window slammed shut against the invading rain. Every door closed in haste. Of all the doors, only one remained open.
I arrived before it and looked up. A single plaque hanging above the door swung wildly in the wind.
Disciplinary Censorate
White stone steps led up to the open door.
“All the procedures are finished now. The only remaining one is the main Disciplinary Committee, right here.”
The maid who had guided me this far turned back with a lantern and spoke.
“Word has already been delivered, and every member of the Disciplinary Committee is waiting. Moreover, every record of the disciplinary trials you have undergone has been received and judged suitable. However….”
She continued.
“As you know, the members of the Disciplinary Committee—that is, the Disciplinary Censorate—tend to be rather eccentric. They might seize on some minor fault and declare everything invalid, so it would be best to steel yourself. Of course the chance is very small, but still.”
“I know.”
They would act as filthy as possible right to the end. My calm reply only made the maid more awkward. She hesitated while looking at me, then spoke again.
“An umbrella… are you truly certain you don’t need one? Even for a martial artist, losing body heat to cold rainwater can’t be good for you….”
“I’m fine.”
I stared piercingly at the plaque through rain-soaked bangs.
-Boom.
Pure white lightning split the dark clouds.
-Grit.
My teeth ground together. My fist clenched.
-Humm….
A red light circled in both eyes. I exhaled. Inhaled. Repeated the cycle until my pupils returned to black.
[Indeed. The longer time passes, the faster you regain your composure. You’re growing.]
Mumyeong muttered.
The downpour grew even fiercer. The maid let out a small, worried sigh.
“…If Young Master were at the Transcendent Peak or higher and cold rain meant nothing to you, then an ignorant maid like me would have no reason to worry. But that isn’t the case, and yet you insist on this stubbornness…. This humble one can only hope your naturally strong constitution keeps you from catching a cold.”
I looked at the maid. For the first time I truly observed her. Fine wrinkles were faintly visible on her forehead. In the midst of the torrential rain I answered briefly.
“I gratefully accept the concern.”
After a moment’s thought I added one more thing.
“And I have one request.”
-Hissss….
White steam rose from my back as I passed. The moment raindrops touched me they evaporated.
-Hiss, hiss, hiss.
“If things get a little noisy, please just bear with it.”
“Pardon?”
I drew a breath and climbed the stone steps without hesitation.
-Clank.
Accompanied by the sound of steel, heavy footsteps settled onto the wooden floor. Every candle filling the conference hall flickered at once. The shadows swayed.
It was a vast meeting room. A rectangular table stood in the center, and six men sat around it.
“Peculiar attire of unknown origin.”
Someone spoke. Every gaze turned toward the shoes that had made the unfamiliar noise. Their eyes traveled upward, carefully noting the joint guards visible between the relatively clean black martial robes that still swayed with residual motion. The guards were made of tough iron-leather. They pursued a different ideal from the light, simple elegance preferred by most martial artists. They looked as if they could withstand a full-powered axe blow or a sword strike without the foot being pierced even once. Tempered iron had been wrapped around the exterior once more. And every surface was packed with tens of thousands of scars. Rust had set in. Blood had soaked in. Pus had soaked in. In that state they had been soaked again by rain, by snow, by dew, by bloody tears; dried by moonlight, by dawn and dusk—thousands of times over.
-Drip. Drip. Drip….
Because I had walked straight through the torrential rain, water streamed down my entire body. I raised both hands and performed a formal martial salute.
“Disciple of Ha-mu-gwan of Cheonsubaekryeonsa, Moyong Bi. Having completed every assigned disciplinary trial and reported the same to the records office, I hereby visit the Disciplinary Censorate so that the party concerned may make the final report.”
“Wait there.”
One of the six men said curtly. They turned their eyes from me and resumed carefully reading the documents spread across the table.
“….”
“We’re busy men ourselves. We’ve only just begun the final review of your papers.”
“We have to check thoroughly for anything strange, don’t we? This isn’t children’s play.”
I realized that every sheet piled on that table concerned my records of late. I nodded and stood to one side to wait. Only the silence and the sound of turning pages filled the hall.
A gaunt man spoke to the one across from him.
“On paper there is absolutely nothing to fault. It has passed. The previous trials go without saying, and even the final gate—the seals of the Oho-samhwa—are all confirmed genuine.”
Another man said,
“A seal itself means staking one’s honor on every statement and declaration concerning the other party. Once it is stamped, further suspicion is impossible. And the idea of tracking them down one by one across the Jianghu is even more absurd.”
Someone in the hall let out a troubled hum.
“Huh? What’s this now.”
One man pulled a pure white sheet from the pile and read.
“All identity and skill of this man are recognized by me, eldest daughter of the Jegal Family, Jegal Sea…?”
The man reading the document shot to his feet.
“He was an official guest who resided for more than four days in Cheongryunhakjeong, which only the highest guests of the Jegal Family may use…. What is this? This is an outright letter of recommendation! Not only did he complete the Oho-samhwa trials, he has an official recommendation from the Jegal Family, one of the Five Great Families?”
“Wait—there’s more behind it?”
The man beside him pulled out a thick sheaf of papers.
“Wasn’t our final disciplinary trial simply receiving the seals of the Oho-samhwa?”
“That’s right.”
“Then… what in the world is this? What is this insane number of recommendation letters? In the entire history of Cheonsubaekryeonsa there has never been a pile like this—not even when the Murim Alliance Leader’s grandson enrolled.”
Looking at the towering stack, a committee member wore an expression of pure bewilderment. I too stared at the table, unable to understand how this had come about.
“This is Cheongunryong of Kunlun. This is Jin Gabok of the Golden Beauty Pavilion. Yun Hyeon, overall manager of the Namgung Family’s Luoyang branch. Dokgo Mu. Baekho, thousand-man captain of the Blood Death Sect. Jin? of the Baekjao of the Namgung Family… what? Baekjao…? The Baekjao of the Namgung Family’s strongest direct guard unit?”
The man’s face grew paler and paler. He flipped through the documents in a frenzy.
“Village chief of Inhyeon Gorge, representing the twelve hundred and ten tenant farmers of Unwol Jiju…?! What is this? What is all this!”
My eyes widened. My heart felt ready to burst. Only one person could have planned something like this.
Jegal Sea.
She had said she would correct and unify every one of my past deeds so that no one could find a single fault. And these recommendation letters were one of the small gifts she had left me. From the smallest connections I had formed while wandering to the greatest ones—she had put her strength into them.
“Good heavens!”
A voice louder than any other rang through the hall.
“This is a personal letter written by the patriarch of the Namgung Family himself—Namgung Hwiyul of the Five Great Families!”
“What?!”
Everyone shot to their feet. They scrambled toward that spot.
“My god, it’s real.”
“Not only the eldest daughter of the Jegal Family, but the patriarch himself writing a personal letter for a mere disciple of Cheonsubaekryeonsa—one who hasn’t even graduated, and not even of Dong-mu-gwan but of Ha-mu-gwan.”
“Quiet, all of you! Step back so I can read the letter! If the patriarch wrote directly to our Disciplinary Committee, the weight is entirely different! Who knows—through this connection we might build a new network incomparable even to the Moyong Family’s eldest—”
They hurriedly glanced at me and cleared their throats.
“In any case, this is an opportunity!”
With eyes nearly bulging from shock they swarmed around the personal letter left by Namgung Hwiyul, patriarch of the Namgung Family, and began to read.
“….”
A faint wave of unease flooded the hall. Silence settled over it. When they finished the letter they looked at one another.
“What is this.”
“From the context it seems there should be a great deal more to write…. Is this really all?”
They checked the reverse side and searched for a following page, but it truly ended on that single sheet. They read the personal letter aloud once more.
Even if no one knows him, even if no one remembers him from this day forward—
I, Namgung Hwiyul, patriarch of the Namgung Family, will remember that the man named Moyong Bi, regardless of the height or depth of his skill, burned with fighting spirit for the sake of righteousness.
And those who reject him, the benefactor of Namgung, I, Namgung Hwiyul, will also surely remember.
This is all I have to say.
— Namgung Hwiyul
Ah.
I recalled the face of the Namgung Family patriarch who had handed me the Seven Sects Black Pearl Gauntlet. Namgung Hwiyul had known that if he revealed every detail—how I had carried Namgung Sogyo on my back and broken straight through the Blood Cult’s heavenly net—it would place me in difficulty. So he had deliberately omitted the particulars.
“…Connections my ass. Anyone can see this is….”
One of the committee members swallowed hard and muttered.
“Ha, haha… let’s discuss these slowly for now.”
A stout man, cold sweat beading on his face, quietly pushed the thick pile of recommendation letters to the side.
“Committee members.”
For the first time since they had begun their review, I spoke toward them. Every eye turned to me.
“W-what is it.”
I addressed them, enunciating every word clearly.
“It seems the conclusion has already been reached more than sufficiently. Is there anything further that requires your careful review?”