The Heonwon Emperor's Sword Takes a Day Off
With the Grand Murim Tournament looming over Kaifeng, Gongson Yoye was still a newcomer to the jianghu. Her life as a living weapon, forged for the sacred duty of restoring her clan’s original surname, had been nothing but training for as long as she could remember. She began each day with training, ate breakfast, then trained again. Lunch was taken directly in the training yard, and she continued swinging her sword until the sky grew dark. Only after a silent dinner with her family would she return to yet more training. When she finally collapsed, it was in the solitary quarters built beside the training hall. That was the sum of her existence.
So how wildly must her heart have raced at the prospect of the Yongbongjihoe? The chance to cross swords with peers, to trade honest insights on martial theory, to breathe the same air as they all raced together toward the distant peak of the Dao! Friendship forged through clashing blades and shared sweat!
Instead, the young ladies of the Phoenix Association had reached a very different verdict about Gongson Yoye.
A stuck-up bitch who thinks she’s special just because she’s decent with a sword. Always going on about how she’s a martial artist before she’s a woman—what, is she not a woman then? Is she looking down on the rest of us? Probably gets all hot-eyed the moment a man appears and uses sparring as an excuse to press bodies together. A country girl trying to worm her way into the famous righteous sects, no doubt.
Of course, Gongson Yoye’s conduct had been genuinely terrible. The pride of placing one’s identity as a martial artist above one’s identity as a woman was all well and good, but pride was something one was meant to feel alone. She should never have said—loud enough for the entire Dragon Phoenix gathering, including every last member of the Blue Dragon Association—that they were wasting time on pathetic drivel about makeup, clothing, ideal marriage partners, and other such nonsense.
The fact that the men had actually stood up, applauded, and shouted “Well said! A true martial artist!” only made it worse. (The Sword Maniac had been the first to leap to his feet and fan the flames, which did not help.) Every woman who had taken even the slightest care with her appearance that day—whether she usually trained seriously or not—felt thoroughly humiliated.
Had Cheong witnessed the scene, she would have compared it to the first drinking party of the school year back in her hometown, where she loudly declared that the female upperclassmen who had made it all the way to university only cared about makeup, clothes, and latching onto men instead of studying to become proper adults.
To be fair, Gongson Yoye had her own grievances. She had simply done what she was taught. The strict elders of her clan had always said the same things: Stand up straight. Do not cry like some weak girl from a common family. Know your shame. What does a monthly cycle matter? Do you think your enemies will show mercy for three days out of the month? Pathetic child. Makeup is nothing but a cheap trick used by women who know they cannot become true martial artists, so they seduce men to improve their lot in life. Do not even think of touching such filthy things.
People who never interact with the outside world naturally assume everyone else lives exactly as they do. Since Gongson Yoye had expected the brilliant rising stars of the righteous path to be proud, unapologetic martial artists regardless of gender, her disillusionment was perhaps inevitable.
Thus the Yongbongjihoe gatherings had become an absolute nightmare for her. Yet after she tried to excuse herself once by saying she would rather train, she had been harshly scolded for treating the important networking event meant to fulfill her clan’s long-cherished wish so lightly. After that she could no longer absent herself.
She had tried to mingle with the men and fellow martial artists, but that too proved futile. The Blue Dragon Association members were either deep in their own male-only conversations or busy trying to impress the women in hopes of romance. Naturally, Gongson Yoye ended up treated as if she did not exist. No one greeted her when she appeared (except the Jo Hak-cheo types), no one spoke to her when she sat down, and no one tried to stop her when she left. Day after day she sat in heavy silence, maintaining a carefully dignified expression while enduring the lonely hours before retreating to her quarters.
The days when the Blue Dragon and Phoenix Associations met separately were even worse. And today was one of those days.
That was when it happened.
“Gongson Sojeo? Could I speak with you for a moment?”
Gongson Yoye flinched. It was the woman in the veiled hat she had seen at the market several days ago.
It had been her first act of rebellion. Unable to bear the silent ostracism any longer, she had slipped away alone to wander the market. The woman had caught a pickpocket for her, yet Gongson Yoye—terrified that either her polka-dot clothing or the hair ornament would become known to her family—had fled without a word of thanks.
“What… what business do you have with me? I do not believe we have anything to discuss.”
“Aww, don’t be like that. Hey, I’m just going to borrow Gongson Sojeo for a bit to get some fresh air. That’s all right with you all, yes?”
One of the women at the same table answered in a sour tone.
“That girl isn’t part of our group. Do whatever you want.”
“Oh, I see. But why so cold? Did you two fight? Come on, you should get along. Well then, I’ll be borrowing her?”
With that, a hand so pale it was almost translucent reached for her wrist. Gongson Yoye, whose entire life had been training, was not so careless as to let a woman who wasted her time flirting with men—
Grab.
Her wrist was seized. Gongson Yoye’s face went blank. Then the woman yanked, hard. What kind of strength was this? No, this was simply impossible. Gongson Yoye was dragged along helplessly.
“Wait, Sojeo, I said I have nothing to—”
“But I do. And that lady over there just said to do as I please. So it’s up to me.”
“I never gave permission!”
“What are you, a princess? Do I need permission just to talk? Besides, I’ve never asked permission from an actual princess either, you know?”
Once they were outside the pavilion, the woman began walking briskly along the canal path in front of the building, still holding her wrist. “Wow, there are so many boats. Don’t you think?”
“Please let go of my hand first and then tell me what you wish to discuss.”
“If I let go you’ll just run away again. I’m an expert at spotting escape attempts, and I can tell you’re already calculating angles.”
“Who said anything about running away?”
“Whatever. Weren’t you wandering the market alone that day too? You must like sightseeing. Have you seen the Iron Pagoda? Let’s see… over there. Ah, can you see it?”
Following the woman’s finger, Gongson Yoye’s gaze landed on the dark crown of a pagoda peeking above the rooftops. Even from this distance it looked enormous; its true height must be staggering.
“Wow…”
“Looks like you haven’t seen it up close yet. When you do, you’ll be hitting three different exclamations—‘it’s so tall,’ ‘it’s so big,’ and ‘it’s so wide.’ You should go sometime. It’s worth it.”
“More importantly, what did you wish to speak with me about?”
“Ah, right. A few days ago, yeah? Some ill-mannered pickpocket reached for a pretty lady’s pouch, so I ended up carrying out justice without thinking.”
“That wasn’t—”
“But then that pretty lady who was supposed to prove my righteousness ran away pretending she didn’t know me, so I got branded as some ill-tempered swordswoman and thrown in jail. For two whole days I lay on that cold prison floor. They only gave me two tasteless meals. And the punishment was supposed to be flogging. Do you know what flogging is? They tie you up and beat you with bamboo sticks.”
Gongson Yoye’s heart sank. Had it really been that serious?
“Who asked you to help? And if I had known it was that bad, I wouldn’t have… I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine. They said they’d overlook it for sixty mun, so I paid sixty mun and avoided the beating.”
“Sixty mun…”
“Anyway, here. This ornament belongs to Gongson Sojeo, right? I was going to keep it as payment for the fine, but I’ve decided to be generous. I’m returning it.”
“I told you it is not mine.”
“Then let’s say it isn’t. Wow, I found this really, really pretty hair ornament while walking down the street, and it looks like it would suit our Gongson Sojeo perfectly. Here. A gift.”
Gongson Yoye accepted the ornament in a daze. The woman continued.
“I didn’t have any other reason for dragging you out. I just wanted to apologize. I thought the ornament looked expensive, so I tried to return it. I didn’t realize it would embarrass you so much. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Ah…”
“And you really don’t need to feel indebted. I just saw trash and crushed it. You know how you pick up litter when you see it? When I see human trash, my hands move on their own. So even if it hadn’t been you, I was destined to pay sixty mun someday anyway. No need to worry about it.”
Gongson Yoye looked down at the hair ornament in her palm. It was the gift her mother had secretly given her during her harsh childhood training—one of the few memories of being comforted after crying in secret (crying only earned her more scolding).
“Well. That’s all my business. You can go back to whatever you were doing, Gongson Sojeo. Hmm. I wonder if the others will come back after playing around a bit.”
The woman turned away without hesitation and began walking off.
Gongson Yoye stared at the ornament, glanced back toward the Phoenix Association leader at Liangyun Pavilion, then looked at the distant tip of the Iron Pagoda. Finally she looked at the woman’s receding back and—
“Please wait!”
She ran after her and caught up.
“Hmm? What? No refunds.”
“Um… I apologize for the imposition, but if it would not trouble you too greatly… could you perhaps show me the Iron Pagoda? I would like to see it up close…”
The Iron Pagoda was simply a tall brick tower. Impressive the first time, but not something that would amaze you twice! To think such engineering existed in ancient, primitive China!
“Wow…”
“It used to be a wooden pagoda twice as tall, but it was struck by lightning and burned down. They rebuilt it with non-flammable bricks, so it ended up half the height,” Cheong explained, pretending she had merely overheard the story.
“Good heavens. It is already this tall. How regrettable that we cannot see its original form.”
“Right? But the Chinese love to exaggerate, so who knows if it was really twice as tall. I don’t believe it.”
“Is… that so?”
“Of course. If we’re playing that game, I can do it too. There used to be a hundred-story pagoda at the Sinnyeo Sect that reached the heavens so immortals could meet with fairies. Too bad it burned down while the sect leader was fooling around with a fairy. What, you don’t believe me? It was a long time ago—how can you speak so confidently? If you can’t bring proof it didn’t exist, then it did.”
At Cheong’s words, Gongson Yoye’s eyes widened.
“There really was such a pagoda?”
“Of course not. If there had been, they would have been called the Divine Pagoda Sect or the Heavenly Tower Sect instead of the Goddess Sect.”
Cheong chuckled. So innocent for someone called a newcomer to the jianghu.
“Oh, right. I’m not sure if this is all right to ask, but… may I? Is it rude to call you Gongson Sojeo when I heard your name is actually Son Yoye? You said you preferred to be called by your clan name, so I’ve been doing that, but if it’s discourteous in any way—”
“Ah, that. The truth is, our clan’s original surname was Gongson. It has been passed down from the very first ancestor.”
“Ah. The Xuanyuan clan.”
Even Cheong knew the genealogy of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors. She had copied it diligently all last winter, after all. The first emperor of China, whose surname was Gongson and given name Xuanyuan. Commonly called the Xuanyuan clan, though here the character for “clan” was more of an honorific for mythical beings.
“…That is why we seek to restore our original surname.”
Gongson Yoye revealed a little of her family’s circumstances.
“Wow, how dare they arbitrarily cut someone else’s surname in half? That’s pretty nasty.”
“You must not speak so carelessly.”
“Why not? Everyone badmouths people when they’re not around. Don’t your family members curse the emperor? I bet they do.”
“…Only a little.”
“See? Anyway. I’m getting a bit peckish. Not really hungry, but my mouth feels lonely. Do you like sweets, Gongson Sojeo? Of course you do. There’s no such thing as a person who dislikes sweets. What kind do you like?”
“Um, I do not often eat sweets…”
“What? You dislike them? After I just said there’s no such person, you’re going to say it to my face?”
“That is not what I meant. I have simply not had many opportunities to try them, so I do not know the names well. The ones that are fried… square-shaped… sweet with red bean paste inside…”
Cheong laughed as if it were ridiculous.
“Four out of every five snacks in the Central Plains are fried, square, sweet, and filled with red bean paste, you know? This won’t do. Today is the day every teahouse in the city loses its entire stock of sweets. Let’s go. I’ll feed you until your stomach bursts.”
The money Cheong had earned from her punitive nuclear strike was no small amount. Moreover, when there were men in the party, Cheong never had to spend any of it. If a woman took out money while men were present, it was considered an insult that treated the men as useless. Surprisingly, the men themselves did not complain—any man who did was immediately disqualified with a click of the tongue and the words “Tsk tsk, what kind of man has no money to spend on a woman? What a beggar.”
Of course, one had to consider that women usually had no income except allowance money. The structure was that men who earned money took care of such things.
After that, Cheong went on a complete rampage. She boldly ordered every variety of snack available at the best teahouse in town.
“Sojeo, you cannot possibly eat that much.”
“…? I’m the one eating it.”
The subsequent massacre of pastries left Gongson Yoye stunned. No matter how much the other woman claimed to be a martial artist rather than an ordinary woman, this was no longer a matter of gender or training—this was the difference between humans and beasts. Even a pig starved for three days would not eat so voraciously.
Still, Gongson Yoye sampled a little of each kind and, for the first time in her twenty-seven years of life, discovered what her own taste in sweets actually was.
After that, Cheong—uncomfortable with silence—chattered about anything that came to mind, while the reticent Gongson Yoye responded somewhat awkwardly.
They passed quite a bit of time that way. When the sky began to darken, Cheong finally said it was about time to head back. As Cheong offered her farewell, Gongson Yoye hesitated before asking.
“Will Seomun Sojeo be attending the Yongbongjihoe tomorrow?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. I might go. I might not.”
“Why is that?”
“It depends on whether I feel like showing my face in front of certain friends. Or whether I have anything better to do. Ah, but I should probably see Geom-woo and Changbin too, so I’ll likely end up going. Yeah, high chance of attendance.”
“I see.”
Gongson Yoye nodded, seemed about to say something, then faltered. In the end she simply wished her a safe journey and said goodbye.
Cheong could only tilt her head in confusion.
What the heck? How anticlimactic.