Chapter 9
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Dew-Cutting Sword Guest Ilseonja
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“They asked who the esteemed guest was, right? It's that friend Laeheon. Does that zither sound just seem like any ordinary noise to your ears?”
“It really is good, but... the zither sound...”
“No. Enough. Just prepare a table of drinks and bring it to where that sound is coming from. Heaven's will led me here, and now I see the reason I've ended up in this place.”
Leaving those cryptic words behind, Ilseonja shuffled toward Seonwoyong's annex.
Sacheonggi cocked his head and made his way to the dining hall.
When he reached the front of the annex, the doors stood wide open. Ilseonja's eyes clearly caught sight of Seonwoyong's refined figure seated at the low table in the main hall, plucking away at the seven-stringed zither.
Ilseonja stared at the scene in silence for a moment before letting out a low hum.
At that, Seonwoyong stopped playing and gazed indifferently at Ilseonja.
“Forgive my rudeness for interrupting your refined interest. This humble monk is Ilseonja of the Azure Purity Sect.”
Ilseonja lifted his tattered robes in a greeting that belied his status and bowed first. Seonwoyong regarded him steadily.
After a brief moment of thought, he rose from his seat and returned the courtesy with a clasped-hands bow.
“I see. It's humble here, but please come inside. I am Seonwoyong from Hefei.”
“Thank you for looking after my sect's foolish disciples. To have such an esteemed guest before our very eyes and fail to recognize you—truly, we are the blind with eyes wide open. Please don't hold our lack of discernment against us.”
Ilseonja sat at the low table and offered his thanks. Seonwoyong waved his sleeve in modest refusal.
“How can you, monk, gild my face like this? When someone faces hardship, we help; we prevent needless killing. Isn't that the way of the jianghu?”
“Indeed, profoundly right. In these difficult times, upholding the jianghu's code is no easy task, yet you have illuminated it for us.”
“No need for such words. I can hardly bear your praise any longer, monk.”
“By the way, this monk has long had a slight hobby in music and has played the flute for many years. Hearing your masterful zither today stirs my spirit—I simply can't hold back. It may be nothing compared to your sublime skill, but might I humbly request a duet?”
Ilseonja rummaged in his robes and produced a short flute no longer than a handspan.
Upon closer inspection, though small, it was a treasure exquisitely carved from jade.
“Truly, you have deep knowledge of music, monk. Perfect timing. I've played the zither alone for so long that I've dearly missed a companion. What piece did you have in mind?”
“What do you think of Water Dragon Chant? Having met an esteemed guest like you today, why not summon the profound and majestic energies of heaven and earth?”
“A truly inspired choice.”
Soon, Seonwoyong began to pluck the zither.
The solemn prelude in the somber mode commenced, followed by Ilseonja's flute joining in harmony with the zither's tones.
Curiously, the zither's notes evoked the masculine, while the flute's carried the feminine.
The sounds cradled, teased, supported, and soared over one another, unfurling intricate, grand, and brilliant tones in all directions.
The union of yin and yang begins with the division from Wuji into Taiji, birthing yin and yang; from there awakening the principles of the four images and five elements, manifesting the eight trigrams to reveal the truths of the myriad things in heaven and earth.
The principles of grand chamber music mirror those of the cosmos and great nature itself. Thus, the essence of music connects to the essence of martial arts, and the profundities of supreme techniques overlap with those of profound music.
The melody woven by the two spread from the annex, resounding throughout the entire Lotus Flower Pavilion.
Everyone in the pavilion, from all corners, stopped what they were doing and lost themselves in the entrancing sounds.
Sacheonggi, who had fetched the drinks and was heading into the pavilion, stood frozen like a statue outside the annex.
The sound reaching his ears was no mere music—it was an enlightenment chant awakening the martial principles he had pondered his entire life.
Through that teaching, the foggy, vague grasp of his martial truths began to clear.
Soon, he fell into a trance, deeply absorbing the realization.
For nearly a full Jiazi cycle—over sixty years—he had toiled in the Azure Purity Sect's arts, but with mediocre talent and shallow insight, the pinnacle realm had always been beyond his dreams.
Yet this serendipitous teaching was opening a new path for him.
The performance, long yet fleeting, came to an end. Without a word, the two put away their instruments and met each other's eyes.
Ilseonja gazed at Seonwoyong with solemn eyes and asked,
“Who in the world are you...?”
“What does it matter who I am?”
“True enough, but I followed heaven's thread here, so it can't be mere coincidence. Please, enlighten me.”
Seonwoyong showed no particular reaction.
Ilseonja studied his expression and continued.
“Long ago, in my youth when I was full of lofty ambitions before growing this old, I once chanced to hear an esteemed one play the zither. Only today do I hear that sound again. What great fortune this is, Great Hero U.”
At Ilseonja's words, Seonwoyong's face hardened.
He turned his head, avoiding Ilseonja's gaze, and fell silent for a time.
Only after a long while did Seonwoyong speak.
“That man named U died long ago. Please, never speak that name again.”
“I have been gravely discourteous. Forgive me. I swear, without your permission, I shall never utter that name again. But your return to the jianghu is truly the greatest blessing imaginable. This unworthy monk has had the honor of meeting you today, Great Peng...”
Just then, footsteps approached from outside the main hall, followed by Sacheonggi's voice.
“This lowly one, Sacheonggi, has arrived.”
A flicker of irritation and annoyance crossed Ilseonja's face.
Soon, Sacheonggi entered through the doors and stood.
Ilseonja glanced at him, then fixed him with a profound, piercing stare.
With a heavy sigh, he spoke.
“Yes. You've worked hard. Come, pay your respects to Master Seonwoo again. Don't you think a deep bow is in order?”
Following Ilseonja's words, Sacheonggi bowed deeply to Seonwoyong.
“Only today have I received your teaching and opened my eyes, this unworthy one. I, Sa, vow to repay with the sprout of my efforts.”
Seonwoyong regarded Sacheonggi.
He could sense how his previously chaotic inner energy, wandering aimlessly in disarray, had now found its path and begun to settle into order.
“Enlightenment is always one's own, no matter the source. Brother Sa, set aside excessive courtesy and press on with your cultivation.”
“Heh heh... You'll have to cover the tab for today's drinks. Have you prepared the table? Heh heh...”
As Ilseonja burst into hearty laughter and jested, footsteps approached again from outside the main hall.
“The drinks are ready. I humbly present them.”
But the voice was not that of a maid—it belonged to Jeong Yeongyeong, the proprietress of the Lotus Flower Pavilion.
She entered carrying a simple table of drinks.
She set it on the low table, prepared cups and chopsticks for Seonwoyong and Ilseonja, and picked up the wine bottle.
“This girl was truly moved by your music. Boldly presuming, allow me to offer you each a cup.”
She poured first for Seonwoyong, then for Ilseonja.
The two emptied their cups in silence. Sacheonggi then offered another round.
Again, they drank without a word. Sacheonggi bowed first and departed the annex. Jeong Yeongyeong bowed her head in farewell and left as well.
She had sensed they wished to be alone.
The next cup was poured by Ilseonja.
“To you, humbly offered from this latecomer to the martial world.”
Ilseonja filled his own cup as well and raised it with both hands. Seonwoyong indifferently lifted his with one hand.
The sight of an octogenarian monk in worn robes offering a toast with utmost respect to a strikingly youthful musician might have seemed awkward, yet it felt oddly natural.
In that moment, their respective statuses subtly revealed themselves.
“I once heard that the Azure Purity Sect had a promising young talent. Today, I see it for myself.”
“I too, from my early years, have admired your thunderous reputation, yet lacking fortune, only today do I share this cup with you.”
With proper decorum, they exchanged three rounds of toasts before settling into casual conversation.
“As you know, monk, I've been away from the jianghu far too long and know little of current affairs. I've heard you roam the land—please tell me what you've seen and heard of the jianghu today.”
“Very well. Over the past sixty years since you left the jianghu, I shall recount what this monk has witnessed.”
The tale began after the Blood Cloud Cult uprising some sixty years prior.
Ilseonja began slowly.
“Since that day, these lands and the jianghu have known peace. It all began from that night.”
He explained how, after the chaos, the authority of the Nine Great Sects and Eight Schools had strengthened further, and the Ming Cult members clashing everywhere had vanished.
The court had bestowed rewards and commendations on the Nine Great Sects and Eight Schools, who had led the war against what was then called the Blood Cloud Cult.
Thanks to this, their prestige had stabilized materially, allowing their prosperity to continue.
Ilseonja detailed the internal and external affairs of the Nine Great Sects and Eight Schools, the Five Great Clans, and sects across the jianghu regions, as well as the whereabouts of thirty masters including the Four Wonders, Five Divinities, Six Immortals, Seven Kings, and Eight Eccentrics.
He spoke of bizarre, eerie, or shocking incidents as he knew them.
Petty conflicts and squabbles were ever the jianghu's norm, but fundamentally, no major upheavals had occurred.
Seonwoyong listened without a change in expression until Ilseonja finished his long account and posed a single question.
“May I humbly ask about the events of that night? This monk was but a lowly martial artist then, hearing only scattered rumors from afar—none satisfied my curiosity. Not I alone; all in the jianghu wonder.”
At that question, Seonwoyong's face, reaching for his cup, suddenly grew grave.
He set down the cup and let out a sigh laced with all manner of regrets.
“Haaa...”
Then, he spat out each word as if chewing on it.
“That is no concern for you to wonder about. Speak of that night no more.”
In that instant, Ilseonja felt the hairs on his body stand on end, his eight extraordinary meridians chilling.
Seonwoyong's killing intent had subtly arisen, engulfing him.
It was the aura of a divine dragon with its reverse scale touched.
Ilseonja paled anew, scrutinizing Seonwoyong's somber visage as he recalled the events of those sixty-odd years past.