Chapter 27
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Bond of Brothers
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"By any chance... do you play the zither?"
"Why wouldn't I? In this world, is there truly anything finer than music?"
Regardless of Han Sojung's reaction, Seonwoyong pulled the loosened gold strings taut and began tuning.
It had been quite some time since he last held a seven-stringed zither in his hands.
Once the brief tuning was complete, Seonwoyong slowly began to pluck the strings.
It was a piece called Melody Rain Cuts Emotions.
As Seonwoyong's seven-stringed zither filled the small garden with its sound, Han Sojung's face lit up in astonishment, drawing him deep into the melody.
Unbeknownst to himself, his fingers began tapping the edge of the low table, keeping perfect rhythm.
The beats he tapped unconsciously were remarkably precise, blending seamlessly into Seonwoyong's performance.
As the piece progressed, Han Sojung's expression grew entranced.
The short melody concluded swiftly.
Having finished, Seonwoyong gazed steadily at Han Sojung.
In contrast, Han Sojung stared back at Seonwoyong with an expression of rapture.
"You're no martial artist, brother—you're a musician. One who has already surpassed the pinnacle..."
"Whether martial arts or music, aren't they one and the same? Anyway, you seem to know a thing or two about music yourself. You kept rhythm quite well."
"Though lacking, I've studied and practiced music since childhood."
Seonwoyong glanced at Han Sojung, then began wrapping the seven-stringed zither back in its silk cloth.
"Um... by any chance... please... could I just touch that seven-stringed zither once?"
Han Sojung's eyes were filled with desperate longing.
The look of a warrior beholding a legendary sword.
Seonwoyong slowly extended the seven-stringed zither toward him.
Overcome with emotion, Han Sojung rose, offered a deep bow in salute, then sat back down and placed his hands on the instrument.
After steadying his breath for a moment, Han Sojung began to play.
Three Plum Blossoms.
Was it coincidence? The very piece U Cheonso had cherished and played his entire life.
The melody she, whom he had loved all his days, adored most—now performed before him by this unfamiliar youth.
Seonwoyong had closed his eyes sometime before.
Memories surfaced of a certain spring day when lavish petal showers fell.
On that day when pink plum blossoms cascaded down with the spring rain, he had first held her in his arms.
Seeing the fine hairs at her ear tremble as she nestled against him, he had brushed back the strands beneath her ear.
Bringing his lips to her flushed earlobe.
Even after Han Sojung's performance ended, Seonwoyong's eyes remained shut for a long while.
Han Sojung carefully slid the seven-stringed zither back toward Seonwoyong.
Only after some time did Seonwoyong finally open his eyes.
"There's a saying in this world: three coincidences make inevitability and fate."
Han Sojung fell silent at Seonwoyong's words, which seemed almost murmured to himself.
"I took in the yellow horse you rode, saved you from the brink of death, and now you've played Three Plum Blossoms with your own hands. Clearly, the bond between you and me is fated."
"I can't quite follow what you're saying, brother..."
Seonwoyong quietly began wrapping the seven-stringed zither on the low table once more.
"So, what do you plan to do from here? Avenge your parents?"
"D-Do I really have to?"
Seonwoyong stared at Han Sojung's hesitant, questioning face for a long moment before bursting into roaring laughter.
"Hahaha... Have I ever seen such an odd fellow? Hahaha..."
"I hate it. Holding a weapon in this hand and killing someone—that sort of thing."
"Of course. Who in this world would wish for such a fate? Unless they're a demon drunk on the stench of blood."
"But everyone in the world expects me to avenge my parents..."
Seonwoyong nodded.
"Then what is it you truly want to do?"
"I..."
After hesitating for a long while, Han Sojung bit his lip and continued.
"I want to play the zither. Compose music and sing along with it."
"That's all?"
"Yes. If I could retreat to some high mountain, deep valley, and live playing only the zither, I'd want for nothing more."
"And what would you eat in that deep valley? Even the greatest master in the world can't live without food, you know that."
"I'd eat grass roots, strip tree bark, hunt mountain beasts or birds—surely that would preserve one life."
"You're truly a strange one. Despising wealth and glory, sublime martial arts, even vengeance for your parents."
"Though young, I've already felt keenly how fleeting things like wealth, glory, and peerless martial arts truly are."
"I've heard the tales. Your father was a hero of his era, and your mother was the current Emperor's own daughter..."
"Then one day, it all vanished. In the dead of night, warriors of the Embroidered Uniform Guard stormed in..."
"But can you truly stand by and let those who drove your father and mother to their deaths go unpunished?"
At Seonwoyong's question, Han Sojung's face took on a forlorn expression as he turned his gaze to the empty air.
Then, with the look of a withered old man, he let out a hollow chuckle.
"Heh heh... That enemy is none other than my own maternal grandfather, the Emperor. A few scheming eunuchs may have pulled strings, but in the end, the one who forced my parents to take their own lives was..."
"It's utterly incomprehensible. How could he do that to his own daughter and son-in-law...?"
"That's the imperial family for you. In the barely two-hundred-year-old Great Ming Dynasty, how many imperial kin have lived out their days in peace?"
Indeed. Since Zhu Yuanzhang founded the Great Ming Empire, countless souls had vanished under charges of treason, most of them bearing the imperial Zhu bloodline.
Seonwoyong nodded.
No one knew better than he that the reign of terror embodied by the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot was the pillar upholding the current Ming Dynasty.
"You're only fifteen. So, what sort of bond would you have us share? Since fate has already woven our threads together."
At Seonwoyong's question, Han Sojung tilted his head.
Then, standing in one corner of the pavilion, he clasped his hands in salute, bowed deeply, and began the ritual bows.
Four full sets of clasped-hand salutes and bows.
The grand rite for pledging sworn brotherhood.
Seonwoyong's expression grew solemn.
Yet he neither stopped Han Sojung's bows nor turned away.
Once the rites were complete, Han Sojung rose, clasped his hands before him, bowed deeply once more, and cried out.
"I, Han Sojung, if you accept, pledge from this day to honor you as my lifelong elder brother. Please guide me."
"You're no ordinary lad yourself. Calling me 'elder brother' on your own whim. Haha... Well, having a younger brother like you must be fate as well."
"I'll serve you well henceforth. Having received the grace of salvation, I'd weave my very hair into shoes for you if need be..."
"You rascal, spouting nonsense. What use would shoes of hair be? Haha..."
"It's just a figure of speech. What, you think I'd actually weave shoes from this head of hair?"
"Haha... In any case, your cheek is unrivaled under heaven. I have little to offer and know even less, but since fate has bound us, I'll do my best as an elder brother."
"Guide me much, brother. Though I lack much, I've already sensed much from you. Your eyes see the world with pure clarity, your words ring true without pretense, and your actions flow without hesitation..."
Seonwoyong listened to Han Sojung, then chuckled heartily for a good while.
"Keh keh, for a young pup, you talk like quite the old fogey. Your flattery's no small thing either."
As he nodded along, Seonwoyong suddenly raised his right hand and extended it toward Han Sojung.
Han Sojung, who had been standing with hands clasped, was drawn to Seonwoyong in an instant, his wrist soon gripped in the other's hand.
A soft, warm energy from Seonwoyong flowed through Han Sojung's wrist.
The energy circulated once through every meridian in Han Sojung's body before vanishing without a trace.
Having probed Han Sojung's true inner strength via his meridians, Seonwoyong's expression grew complicated.
"Have you by chance consumed many spirit elixirs?"
Han Sojung nodded.
"So I've heard. They say I was strange from birth. My maternal uncle, the current Crown Prince, sent a gourd of Azure Crystal Essence Oil to bathe my infant body, and all the family's treasured elixirs were used as well..."
"Thanks to that, you're still alive."
Nodding, Seonwoyong eyed the inverted "rebel" scar branded on Han Sojung's forehead.
Miraculously, the burn had faded greatly in just a few days.
Unless examined closely, it was faint enough to go unnoticed.
"Brother, may I ask one thing?"
Han Sojung asked as he sat back down.
"Of course. Ask away. Isn't that what brothers do—question and answer freely?"
"Just how old are you, brother? And what of your sect?"
Seonwoyong smiled faintly.
"That curious, eh? So, how old do I look to you?"
"If I had to guess... maybe just over twenty... not much older than me..."
"And?"
"Ah, but the way you speak and act... it's just so..."
"Think whatever suits you. Age isn't that important, is it?"
"Still, I should at least know roughly..."
"You little punk. Your speech makes you sound like the old man here..."
Just then, a maid from the Shenzhou Merchant House entered the garden and approached.
"A guest seeks the young master in the guest hall. What shall we do?"
"A guest?"
Seonwoyong pondered briefly, recalling Elder Jin.
"Was it an old man with a goatee?"
"Yes, that's him."
"Perfect timing, then. He's the one I've been waiting for—bring him here."
The maid bowed and withdrew. Han Sojung then posed a question.
"An old man with a goatee... Have you already met Elder Jang?"
Seonwoyong nodded.
"That night I rescued you, he followed me to the Shenzhou Merchant House encampment. He said to seek him out at the main gate once we arrived here."
"I see."
"But what exactly is that old man to you? He seemed ready to stake his life. For your sake..."
"Indeed. That man would stake even his life... Though he's no blood relation to me; I heard he became our household retainer after receiving a life-saving debt from my father."
"Did that old man rescue you from the precipitous paths of Sichuan?"
"Yes..."
Han Sojung vividly recalled that day's horrors.
* * *
Han Sojung had been captured by the Embroidered Uniform Guard, a blade at his neck as they traversed the precipitous Shu Roads.
On his forehead, the character for "rebel" had been carved with a sharp blade, inked and tattooed, the ink mingling with flowing blood from the wound.
As the son of a traitor, his future held only brutal torture and gruesome execution at the road's end.
Yet that day, as they arduously escaped the treacherous paths, a wide clearing appeared below the cliffs.
Some dozen merchants had settled there, eating and resting.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard procession halted as well, to take their midday meal.
Then, an old man who seemed the leader of the merchants approached the guards, carrying a basket of duck and chicken meat and two flasks of wine.
Ban Taeyu welcomed the old man's gift.
But he was no fool to blindly accept food and drink from a stranger while escorting a grave criminal.
Ban Taeyu had the old man sample the meat and wine first, to check for poison.
The old man obediently ate the meat, drank the wine, and returned to his place.
Only after a long while did Ban Taeyu partake, sharing some with his subordinates and the convict guards.
By then, the merchants rose to prepare for departure.
To reach the precipitous road toward Chengdu from their corner of the clearing, they had to pass the Embroidered Uniform Guard group.
At that moment, as the old man moved cautiously, as if wary of kicking up dust, his eyes met those of Han Sojung, who sat slumped with a blade at his side, head bowed.
Han Sojung already knew the old man was his family's retainer, Elder Jang, but made no sound or gesture.
In that instant, Elder Jang struck at the Embroidered Uniform Guard standing beside Han Sojung.
At the same time, the other merchants drew cleavers hidden in their packs and charged at the guards and convict escorts.