Chapter 12
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Preparations for Departure
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* * *
After that day, daily life at Lotus Flower Pavilion and with Seonwoyong continued peacefully as before.
The children always brought the puppy and kitten when they came to the annex to learn the zither.
"You rascals. What am I supposed to do if you bring these young animals to a place where you're learning the zither?"
"I'm sorry, Master. But these guys absolutely refuse to leave my side. Please."
At first, when they brought the animals, Seonwoyong had scolded them fiercely.
But the children paid no heed, and now it had become a matter of course.
The cat, no longer afraid, climbed onto Seonwoyong's lap and curled up for a nap. The puppy lay at his feet, ears perked to the zither's tones.
The children smiled at the sight and practiced the zither diligently.
Seonwoyong taught them while occasionally stroking the animals.
While instructing on the zither, Seonwoyong would glance back and forth between the children and the young animals, now and then heaving a deep sigh.
Then one day, Seonwoyong began teaching a special breathing technique to the children who had come to learn the zither.
"You've probably realized by now that to play the zither properly, correct posture and breathing are essential. Now, I'm going to teach you one breathing method, so listen carefully and practice it well. If you master it properly, not only will you produce good zither sounds, but you'll also be able to withstand cold and heat to some extent."
"Yes!!!"
The children, innocent and unaware of its meaning, replied with bright, joyful voices. From that day on, they began learning the breathing method.
As children, their innate qi remained pure, and their eight extraordinary meridians were untainted.
Seonwoyong sat upright, breathing deeply from his dantian, slowly demonstrating how to exhale turbid qi and inhale the pure qi of heaven and earth.
There were no incantations or formulas.
He had no intention of transmitting martial arts.
It was merely his wish that these children would live healthy lives going forward.
But if the martial artists of the world learned the true nature of this breathing method he taught, they would be stunned.
For that breathing method was none other than the Ink Dragon Primordial Art.
On top of that, he began properly teaching the children—who were now starting to grasp the zither's notes correctly—the deft techniques for handling it with their hands.
The four skills of pressing, pulling, flicking, and strumming the zither strings with the fingers.
Thus began the peerless technique later hailed in the martial world as the Lotus Hand.
* * *
In a small courtyard tucked deep within Lotus Flower Pavilion's rear garden, Sacheonggi and his nephew I Sochang often came to practice martial arts.
I Sochang's wounds were healing swiftly. Yet he was still not fit to venture outside for external training, leaving only Azure Flower Sword Sacheonggi to emerge daily, planting his stance firmly and swinging fists and sword.
Today, he was practicing the Clear Stream Seven Sword Forms, one of the Azure Purity Sect's signature basic sword sequences.
Azure Purity Sect ultimate arts like the Clear Breeze Sword Method or Fierce Wind Great Sword Form—transmitted solely to direct disciples—were beyond lay disciples such as Sacheonggi or I Sochang.
They could learn only the sect's fundamentals: Clear Stream Seven Sword Forms, Pine Heart Method, Thousand Leaves Step, and the like.
Even that alone granted martial prowess respectable in Sichuan Castle, marking the ceiling for lay disciples as well.
Yet the sword path of the Clear Stream Seven Sword Forms Sacheonggi now displayed was far more refined and nimble than before.
That night, having unwittingly glimpsed the essence of the martial arts Seonwoyong and Ilseonja unleashed through sound, he had stepped into a new realm.
Surpassing the stage of barely sensing sword qi, he now channeled tangible sword qi along the blade.
Even now, a bluish haze trailed the sword as he swung it.
Each day differed from the last; every moment brought change.
Today too, lost in a trance, he swung his sword, honing his fresh insights.
Then Seonwoyong stepped into one corner of the courtyard.
Peering at another sect's martial practice was among the martial world's gravest taboos.
But Seonwoyong ignored it, standing at the courtyard's edge and watching Sacheonggi's sword path for some time.
Soon Sacheonggi sensed his presence and withdrew his sword.
The two men regarded each other in silence for a moment.
"What brings you here?"
To Sacheonggi's question, Seonwoyong offered unexpected words.
"Abandon form and sequence. It's time to shed your clothes, so why cling to such heavy garments...."
Without further ado, he began flawlessly replicating the Clear Stream Seven Sword Forms Sacheonggi had just performed.
Silently picking up a wooden sword nearby, he executed it excruciatingly slowly—one form, one technique at a time.
Each stroke and form Seonwoyong displayed brimmed with mysteries Sacheonggi had never dreamed of.
No question arose of how he could perform the Azure Purity Sect art so precisely.
Finishing the Clear Stream Seven Sword Forms once, Seonwoyong immediately began again.
This time at blinding speed.
Like lightning, he completed the seven forms in a flash, then launched into yet another round.
It was the Clear Stream Seven Sword Forms—yet utterly freed from form and sequence, an ultimate realm retaining only essence and nature.
Completing three cycles, Seonwoyong set down the wooden sword and turned to leave without a word.
Sacheonggi stood dazed alone, staring at his retreating back.
The Clear Stream Seven Sword Forms already no longer existed in his mind.
Moments later, swinging his sword anew, Sacheonggi felt himself liberated.
* * *
Seonwoyong headed to the horse market in the castle town's bustling marketplace.
Resolved on a long journey, he aimed to buy a suitable mount. Yet browsing the horses proved entertaining in itself.
The market sold not just Chinese horses from across the Central Plains, but every breed imaginable—foals too—from distant Western Regions and Great Food Country.
Mongolian ponies, burly draft horses for wagons and plows, Western brown purebreds, peerlessly beautiful Great Food whites, descendants of Han bloodlines from Daiwan, and more....
Yet in a remote corner lay horses unfit for fair price, segregated apart.
Old, sick, or vicious—unrideable, unworkable beasts.
Most ended slaughtered for meat.
Wandering the market's nooks, Seonwoyong halted there.
He had spotted a singular horse.
Its frame was exceptional. But it was gaunt beyond measure.
Skin over bones, head drooped to the dirt as if vowing to see, hear, drink, or eat no more.
Pale mustard-yellow coat covered its body; legs' ends, mane, tail were white, with a white star on its forehead.
'It must have been hailed a fine steed in its day.'
Now too ancient, muscles gone, hide wrinkled and slack.
Seonwoyong approached, stroking and probing it everywhere.
Docile to the core, it accepted his touch in mute compliance.
"Oh dear, young master! You know your horses. This one looks rough, but it's a heavenly steed. Haha...."
The horse trader sidled up, gauging Seonwoyong's interest.
"Are you the owner? Fetch him."
"That horse is mine, young master. Bought it days ago."
Seonwoyong half-ignored him, scrutinizing the beast top to bottom.
Lifting its head to eye the gaze, prying the mouth for teeth, hoisting each leg for wounds... finally checking the brand on its rump.
"What use for a nag like this?"
"Oh come now, young master. Why such harsh words? Age aside, feed it right, rebuild the frame—it'll thunder along for years."
"Oh, you... Can't you see? It's set on dying, plain as day."
The trader faltered at Seonwoyong's words.
Masking it, he pressed the haggle.
"A beast choosing death? First I've heard. Twenty years in horses, never such a tale."
"Starved itself of feed and water—what else but suicide? Drag it off, it won't eat; butcher it, no meat...."
Seonwoyong turned as if to leave.
"Oh... young master! Don't go empty-handed. Name your price. I'll sell at cost—no markup."
"No price matters without use. Haul off a suicide for toil?"
"Know this? Its first master: General Han Dongjik, Anxi commander who crushed the West for Great Ming."
"Then how'd it come to this?"
"Sigh... Young master, you're out of court news. Last year, imperial summons to the capital—framed for treason, beheaded."
Seonwoyong furrowed his brow, silent.
The trader pressed on bitterly.
"This horse bore the general's sole son fleeing the bloodbath, bolting north—but snared here in Chengdu days back, master lost."
"Then the son executed too."
"Miraculously safe so far. Traitor's heir, en route to the emperor..."
"And?"
"Passing Shu Road to Hanzhong, mystery brigands hit the convoy—snatched the boy, rumors say."
"Some luck at least. So masterless, it wastes away...?"
"Exactly. Saw the boy's brutal hunt, they say. Cut off food and drink since... Heartbreaking...."
"Fine. Your cost on this beast? Mere animal, yet loyal to the end—noble, truly."
"Twenty silver taels. I live by beasts, but profit off this? Never dreamed it'd choose death when I took it."
Seonwoyong quietly drew a hefty silver ingot from his bosom and handed it over.
Worth over fifty taels.
"Pocket it. You're merchant enough, but honor loyalty—this profit's fair."
"Good lord... Thank you, young master! Blessings on you. True blessings!"
Leaving the trader bowing nose-to-ground, Seonwoyong took the reins.
The beast followed tamely at his side, stepping without protest.