Song Mountain and the Ink Society: He Was Just an Ordinary Child
It was an ordinary child. A child whose life had nothing to do with martial arts. If the Japanese pirates hadn't ravaged his hometown, he would have lived his entire life without ever crossing paths with the martial world.
But his village had been reduced to ashes. The parents' corpses, abandoned in front of the child's house amid piles of charred remains, painfully caught the eye of the woman who had finally arrived to wipe out the pirates.
Too late. Despite hurrying as fast as she could, it was already too late.
"Such a tragedy..."
By the time she arrived on the commission, the pirates had already swept through. All that remained were ashes and bodies.
While searching the village, she found the child frozen like a statue before his parents' corpses.
"I'm sorry."
Ban Yu-ran knelt and wrapped her hands around the child's rigid shoulders. She hadn't saved him. If she'd been a little faster, dozens of lives could have been spared. The weight of that thought pressed down on her.
"I was too late."
It was self-recrimination. Dozens of lives had withered away like morning dew. And the shock to this child, left alone in their place...
Drip.
The sky, clear just moments ago, had clouded over. Raindrops pelted the back of Ban Yu-ran's hand.
"Now, let's send them off."
"Mo... ther?"
The child's lips parted for the first time. Raindrops mingled with the tears pooling in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. His gaze turned to Ban Yu-ran, filled with icy resentment. The rainwater tracing his cheeks carried emotions he couldn't wipe away. Eyes brimming with resentment he couldn't let go.
—If only you'd come a little sooner... just a little!
Ban Yu-ran didn't avert her eyes from that gaze. She'd encountered too many such looks. Perhaps it was the fate of a wandering ronin, drifting like duckweed across the land. Even those she saved often blamed her. It was familiar. If her rescue had been impossible from the start, they might have accepted it. But late salvation always drew arrows of resentment without fail.
Faint hope. When it turned to despair, the arrows flew not at the enemy, but at those who came to save them.
"What couldn't be saved couldn't be saved. But those who can be saved must be. If we stay here, more pirates might come."
That was why Ban Yu-ran could remain composed. The dead couldn't be brought back. Not even with the sorcery of the Demonic Path. The dead were dead. The living were living. That was the law decreed by the Heavenly Emperor.
"Now, let's send them off."
Whoosh...
The downpour battered her shoulders fiercely, soaking her body. In that torrent, the child collapsed forward, sobbing silently. His gestures, refusing to accept his parents' deaths, were heartbreaking.
Ban Yu-ran unleashed a palm strike toward the empty ground. A muffled explosion lost in the rain. She laid the parents' bodies side by side in the deep crater it created.
But the child still clung to his dead parents' garments.
"Let's go."
"Where... to?"
As the child turned back, Ban Yu-ran pried his hand from the clothing and answered.
"Home."
The eyes of the now-homeless child wavered. Could there be a place in the world to replace his vanished home? Such thoughts filled his gaze.
Ban Yu-ran took the child's hand.
"Let's go."
Writers always keep copies or backups. It's the most important habit for any author. Nothing's more infuriating than losing work to a blue screen or crash. That's why "save often" is gospel, whether in Notepad or Hangul.
Baek Su-gyeong hadn't abandoned the habit even after falling into the Central Plains. Thanks to that, Namgung So-min had gotten his permission and read the original manuscript of Little Immortal Hero Chronicles.
"Bang the senior becomes Ban Yu-ran, and your disciple is the unnamed child..."
"It's just the narrative thread, after all."
Baek Su-gyeong took back the true manuscript from Namgung So-min and tucked it into his bosom, smiling.
"Did you enjoy the read?"
"It's still just the setup, so not quite time to judge the fun yet."
"Fair point. Cutting remark, though?"
There was a hint of delight in Baek Su-gyeong's voice. Namgung So-min smiled shyly.
The carriage rattled along the official road, leaving the village where they'd stayed four days and heading for Song Mountain.
Baek Su-gyeong spoke up.
"What do you know about Shaolin?"
"Everyone knows they're the pinnacle of murim, one of the South Wudang, North Shaolin. Famous for their staff arts and Arhat formations."
South Wudang, North Shaolin referred to the revered sects: Wudang towering in the south, Shaolin exalted in the north. It spoke to their immense status in murim.
"And these days, Shaolin's wrapped up in all sorts of controversies."
"Controversies?"
"Yes."
She took a breath, steadying her voice.
"Teacher, have you heard of the Mingwang Association?"
"...First time."
No joke—genuine. He hadn't paid much attention to murim.
Baek Su-gyeong added by way of excuse, "Even when writing Wudang Sword Hero, I wanted a life apart from murim. I'm clueless about the current scene. Heard little, seen less. Bear with me."
Fact was, it was ripe for nitpicking. But Namgung So-min nodded understanding.
Steering back, she continued. "The Mingwang Association is one of Shaolin's offshoots—a sect of precept-breaking monks who defy Shaolin's rules. Teacher, have you seen monks with blue precept marks on their foreheads?"
"...I have."
Her words jogged his memory. The first murim folk he'd seen after arriving: forehead marks, so he'd assumed Shaolin warriors. Apparently, Mingwang Association instead.
A precept mark on the forehead signified a disciple who'd received the precepts. Red cinnabar for proper ones; blue meant self-imposed exile for breaking them, perhaps.
A shadow crossed Baek Su-gyeong's brow.
"They proudly advertise themselves as precept-breakers with those blue marks?"
"Not much is known, but... they rampage without qualms about killing, causing trouble everywhere. Shaolin's headache."
"All warrior monks, right?"
"Yes."
Shaolin was unique. It housed two types: First, the Guardian Warrior Monks who protected the temple and subdued threats to the jianghu, bringing them back. Most who ventured out were these.
Second, Scholar Monks focused on studying sutras, upholding precepts, and repentance. Further, Zen Monks pursuing enlightenment through meditation. Shaolin embraced them all.
In wuxia clichés, abbots were often both Zen and warrior monks. Scholar abbots were rare.
Baek Su-gyeong asked, "Isn't there friction between warrior and scholar monks? That's my hunch. What do you think, Lady Namgung?"
"It's an internal Shaolin matter, rarely discussed outside."
"Yet martial arts can't be separated from scholarship."
Namgung So-min gave a wry smile at his words.
"Martial is Learning, Learning is Application?"
"Exactly. Shortened to Wu Xue. 'The path of martial arts is endless,' as the golden saying goes?"
Hence Wu Hai Wu Xian—the sea of martial arts is boundless; no end to training its depths. Another wuxia cliché.
Baek Su-gyeong continued, "Friction between warrior and scholar monks... Did the Mingwang Association break away in rebellion against current Shaolin precepts?"
"Precisely, they found the rules stifling and stormed out. But they're led by masters versed in Shaolin's ultimate arts..."
"Have you crossed hands with Mingwang experts, Lady Namgung?"
She nodded faintly. A warrior herself, she didn't shy from strong foes. Her epithet behind Jade Sword Flower—Fighting Immortal Maiden—reflected that.
"How do they stack against Shaolin masters?"
"Evenly matched. Hard to call a clear winner. Even if talents leaked from guardian monks, Shaolin is still Shaolin."
Two mountains grace the jianghu: Song Mountain, lofty and grand; Wudang Mountain, where martial artists rightfully gather.
No matter the losses or stolen arts, Song Mountain's shadow over Shaolin didn't flicker.
"Shaolin is Shaolin."
"Like how you can't steal Wudang's sword away—taking Shaolin's arts doesn't take their spirit. That's what people say."
"Your take, Lady Namgung?"
"Foolish to chip away at a millennium-old boulder with a tiny chisel."
Clear metaphor: Even if Mingwang rose against Shaolin, it'd take ages to rival a sect steeped in history and tradition.
Baek Su-gyeong nodded. "The real issue is internal Shaolin strife."
"Yes."
Things were getting tangled again. Baek Su-gyeong rubbed his temple, a bad feeling brewing. Could he focus on writing?
Gazing at the approaching Song Mountain, he felt it strongly. Shaolin was right ahead.
"Su-gyeong? Baek Su-gyeong left Xuchang for Song Mountain?"
"Yes, Lord!"
"Why report something this crucial now?!"
A hulking frame like a mountain. Clad in black iron armor, his pitch-black skin gleamed. His shaved purple head shone like a bald peak.
A striking blue precept mark amid the dark skin. Gal Yeom, leader of the Mingwang Association—Black Maitreya—was that man.
"You ordered no word on that book to anyone, Lord—man or beast."
The man corrected coldly, his own forehead bearing a blue mark.
"Strategist!"
"Your anger changes no facts, Lord."
"Ugh."
Gal Yeom groaned, sinking his massive bulk into the grand seat.
A shadow fell over his brow. "But this is a chance. Of all people, Teacher Su-gyeong—the man who shed Wudang's lingering spirit."
"You claimed no interest in books recently, yet you read it on the sly."
"Ahem, ahem."
He cleared his throat sternly, but it fooled no one. The pale young monk eyed him sharply.
"So, what do you plan with Baek Su-gyeong?"
"What else? An image makeover."
"Image makeover..."
A subtle emotion crossed young monk Baek Ri-sa's face.
"Finally feeling up to it, Lord?"
"Ahem. Our numbers are dwindling—fact."
Baek Ri-sa wryly smiled at the lord casually dropping heavy news with stern composure.
Gal Yeom added, "Besides, we can't feud with Shaolin forever."
"Especially with roots in Shaolin."
"That's why I want to meet Teacher Su-gyeong."
"Bridge-building?"
Gal Yeom nodded. "He declared in Xuchang his next protagonist is Shaolin."
He'd never declared it. But Baek Su-gyeong's offhand huff had become "fact." He'd clutch his neck if he knew.
Gal Yeom grinned slyly. "Improve our image, mend ties with Shaolin—good for us, no?"
"I'll check how long he stays at Shaolin."
Light gleamed in Baek Ri-sa's eyes.
Thus, unbeknownst to Baek Su-gyeong, others reached for him too.