The Dragon's Reverse Scale
Large teardrops began to form in Gongson Yoye's deer-like eyes. At first they clung stubbornly to her lashes, refusing to fall, but eventually they traced the curve of her cheek and slid down. Then came the flood—thick tears pouring out in a sudden downpour, heavy as rain.
"Sometimes. No, almost every single time, I've wanted to throw it all away and live like an ordinary woman. Hic. I endured it all for the sake of my long-cherished wish. I held on... and yet you... how could you trample over that so cruelly..."
It seemed she had touched a reverse scale.
The term reverse scale referred to the single scale on a dragon's throat that grew in the opposite direction. Even a dragon that had attained supreme patience after thousands of years of ascetic training would fly into an uncontrollable rage the moment that scale was touched. It would turn its former mortal enemy into an eternal foe, even if it meant falling back into a lesser form. That was the meaning behind the phrase.
And for Gongson Yoye, her reverse scale was being disregarded as a martial artist.
Her entire life had consisted of nothing but time spent forging herself as one. Therefore, to be looked down upon as a martial artist was no different from dismissing her entire existence.
Cheong was thrown into complete panic. Why? Why was she crying? Was this really something worth crying over?
"Yoye. Wait, just wait a second. Calm down, okay? Let's take a few deep breaths together, yeah?"
"That sort of—"
"Here! Take this!"
Cheong cut off the erupting Gongson Yoye with a loud shout, then shoved the box into her hands.
"Stop. Dry those tears. Look, this. They say spiritual medicine is good when your Innate Qi is damaged. I brought this especially for you."
"I don't need this sort of—"
"Ahem. This is the Great Recovery Pill, you know? From Shaolin Temple. You know what it is, right? It's not 'this sort of thing.'"
Gongson Yoye froze solid. Of course, since she'd been sobbing, a reflexive hiccup escaped her.
"The Great Recovery Pill? Are you... are you mocking me? Or is it really—hic—the Great Recovery Pill?"
"It's the real thing. Abbot Muhak gave it to me himself."
"Why would Abbot Muhak..."
"I told him I had a friend whose Innate Qi was damaged, and he handed it over without hesitation. It's not like I went through any great trouble to obtain it. So don't feel too burdened by it."
At those words, Gongson Yoye's mind snapped awake. It felt as if she'd been doused with cold water.
"You're giving this... this to me? Such a precious treasure, something so valuable that words cannot even begin to describe..."
"I accepted it in the first place with the intention of giving it to you."
Only then did Gongson Yoye reach a profound realization. To this person, not only the martial tournament but all the wealth and honors of the world were utterly insignificant.
The Great Recovery Pill was a treasure counted as an extra life. Merely being known to possess it could invite threats against one's own life. Yet this person could casually pull out such an item and offer it without a second thought. Because to them, a friend's lifespan and Innate Qi were far more valuable.
Since the tournament had never been worth their attention to begin with, how heartbreaking must it have sounded to hear that she had used her Innate Qi for something so trivial?
Thus, Gongson Yoye's explosive rage, which had flared up like ignited gunpowder, had ultimately only blown up her own house.
And once the smoke cleared, an endless wave of shame came crashing down.
"Um... Lady Seomun? I'm sorry. I said terrible things. What should I do? It seems I never had the qualifications to be your friend in the first place. You're doing so much for me, yet I doubted you. How can someone like me even call herself a friend? From the beginning, a wretch like me never deserved to have any friends—"
"Ahem. Friends fight sometimes. What's the big deal? Well... it's true that I did feel sorry for you. But that's not why I became your friend. If that were the case, I'd have to be friends with every pitiful person in the world, wouldn't I?"
"No, it's because someone like me is like this that I don't have friends, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
"No, I told you it's fine."
Cheong continued soothing Gongson Yoye, who seemed determined to dig herself into the ground. In truth, this was already her third explosion. She was usually well-behaved, but once her temper flared, she would burst like a firecracker.
The second time had been when Cheong gave her the hairpin. This was the third. And before Cheong had even arrived, the first had occurred at the Dragon Phoenix Assembly, where she had delivered a sharp rebuke to the Phoenix Association members who had been playing at being girls.
Pathetic wenches who only know how to dress up and talk about seducing men! Is this a gathering for martial artists or a meeting of courtesans? I can't even tell!
The Phoenix Association members had treated Gongson Yoye as if she didn't exist, all because of their pointless territoriality.
In any case, Gongson Yoye had completely broken down from a toxic mix of guilt, embarrassment, and fear. It took quite some time before she stopped apologizing as if she had committed a grave crime worthy of execution.
"I cannot accept this. I am grateful for the thought, but this is not a treasure I am qualified to possess. You know this as well, Lady Seomun. A treasure one cannot handle invites bloodshed."
"Then why not just take it now?"
Gongson Yoye gave a faint smile. Her eyes were horribly swollen, ruining any semblance of grace.
"Once I reach the Super Peak realm, I will undergo Body Reconstruction, so it will be fine. Besides, my clan has prepared spiritual medicines as well. I did not draw on my Innate Qi without any countermeasures."
"Ah. I see. That makes sense. Still, if you keep it and use it in an emergency later—"
"No. I cannot accept it."
She took Cheong's hand and spoke with solemn sincerity.
"I want you to give it your all in the finals, Lady Seomun."
"If you're burning away your lifespan, how am I supposed to raise my blade against you?"
"Lady Seomun. I was truly looking forward to the finals of this tournament. I wanted to cross swords with you with every ounce of my strength. You have no idea how long I have waited. That is why I became so angry when you said you would hold back."
"But now that I know it would cost you your life, how can I possibly do that?"
Gongson Yoye looked straight into Cheong's eyes. Normally she avoided direct eye contact, so the sincerity was unmistakable. Though the bright red puffiness around her eyes made the image somewhat comical.
"Would you do that for my sake? Then I could think that my short life was lived for this moment. Please. Share with me the moment I have looked forward to most in my entire life. Will you?"
Faced with such earnest longing, Cheong could only nod.
----
Cheong was not a native of the Central Plains. She had lived in a world where the value of communal ties like one's origin was placed far below the individual, only to suddenly find herself in a completely foreign land. To her, Gongson Yoye's outburst had simply seemed like an overreaction.
But objectively speaking, Cheong had been in the wrong. It was a mistake so severe that if Seomun Su-rin had heard the conversation, she would have delivered a merciless nuclear knuckle to the forehead while tears streamed down her face.
What Cheong had said amounted to this: Why risk your life over a mere tournament? Don't waste your precious lifespan on such cheap tricks. If that's the case, I'll just throw the match for you.
But to Gongson Yoye, it had been a fight she had staked her life on. Every moment of her closed-door training, every ounce of effort throughout her life, had been preparation for this very moment. In other words, Cheong had completely invalidated Gongson Yoye's entire life.
On top of that, because she had trusted Cheong as her only friend and relied on her completely, the sense of betrayal cut even deeper. Had it not been for a treasure on the level of the Great Recovery Pill, she might never have even considered Cheong's true intentions.
It had been that painful, that bitter a betrayal.
Yet Cheong still could not understand. What was so important about a martial tournament? No, more fundamentally—what was a clan, exactly? Why were people willing to risk their precious lives for the sake of their clan? What was a clan, anyway? Shouldn't a clan exist for the sake of its people? Why must people be ground down for the sake of a clan?
Even if the Gongson Clan were some ruined shantytown on the verge of collapse, it would be one thing. But they were a famous and powerful martial house, even if they weren't quite part of the Ten Great Clans of the Central Plains.
Officially their surname was simply Gong, yet everyone called them Gongson unless they were deliberately looking for a fight. In truth, this principle applied equally to sects rather than clans, which meant Cheong's fundamental way of thinking was completely different from that of the people of the Central Plains.
And Cheong felt that difference to her very bones.
"It is admirable that Lady Gongson refrained from drawing her sword. If you do not wish to create enemies, do not spout such reckless nonsense."
"This time even Cheong was in the wrong. Saying something like that to someone who stepped onto the stage with such resolve is basically calling them a fool. Especially when they did all that for the sake of their clan's long-cherished wish."
"Hmm. Sword-friend, I am disappointed. I may need to reconsider whether you are worthy of remaining my sword-friend and instead demote you to mere sword-acquaintance."
Those were the respective reactions of Paeng Daesan, Dang Nan-a, and Namgung Sinjae.
When she had asked out of genuine curiosity whether it was something to get so angry about, every single one of them had responded as if she had said something utterly ridiculous.
And what on earth was a sword-acquaintance? She honestly had no idea. Was it really something worth getting that angry over? If they truly wanted their clan's wish fulfilled, wouldn't it be better if she dressed up beautifully and naturally threw the match? That way Yoye wouldn't have to use her Innate Qi.
As a martial artist? What kind of profession was a martial artist anyway, that they went on about giving their all as a martial artist?
People who carried swords and conducted their business through force, standing equal to the government yet openly hostile to it, striding about with complete confidence. Hmm. Weren't those basically cartels?
In any case. Could she truly swing her sword with complete sincerity in the finals? Knowing full well that Yoye was shortening her own lifespan?
What did swinging one's sword with true sincerity even mean in the first place? Wasn't martial arts meant for cutting down enemies? Therefore, if it wasn't a killing blade meant to take lives, if it wasn't a fight to the death, then there could be no such thing as sincerity, right?
A blade existed to cut. To protect oneself. To serve as a wall protecting those one cared for. To cut down villains and bring joy. So how could a sincere spar even exist?
Did using killing techniques in a match that decided victory and defeat make it sincere? Did a spar without killing moves become insincere?
It was a question she had never considered before. And it was not the sort of question that would yield an answer simply by thinking about it.
However, Cheong did possess one small virtue. She never struggled alone to understand what she didn't know, and thus had no hesitation about asking others. Of course, this was also a major flaw—if there was no one around to teach her, she would simply put it off for later, and then forget about it, resulting in no improvement to her ignorance.
In any case, Cheong asked.
"Master, what is martial arts?"
"...What?"
Seomun Su-rin was genuinely startled. Every martial artist carried their own sword within their heart. Seomun Su-rin expressed it as a sword because she was a swordswoman, but each person defined martial arts in their own way and forged it straight within their chest. That was why martial artists drew the meaning of their lives and their will upon the world with their respective swords. That was why it was called cultivation—martial cultivation.
Was this truly a question that a master at the late Peak realm should be asking? Someone who could not even properly draw their own sword could not possibly cross the threshold of the Peak realm. It was a question that had come far, far too late.
Still, the fact that she sought the answer even now was truly fortunate and commendable. And since she was still so young—to Seomun Su-rin, she was little more than a toddling child—it was understandable that it had taken this long.
Seomun Su-rin's bias was growing thicker by the day.
"Since every person's martial arts is different, this teacher cannot recklessly speak and force an answer upon you. But tell me, my disciple, for what purpose have you cultivated martial arts?"
After pondering for a moment, Cheong answered.
"Um. To survive?"
Cheong's martial arts existed as a means of survival. And that process was still ongoing. When she had reached the late Peak realm, she had been full of confidence, thinking she had become a true master. But then Super Peak masters kept popping up from nowhere, and even Harmonious Realm masters appeared from time to time.
"I see. You did say you came from a wandering warrior background."
Seomun Su-rin nodded.
"It is only natural that your realm would not rise with such an attitude. I am truly glad and relieved that you have begun to contemplate it now."
"Um. Is it really that important?"
"Of course it is. You must clearly establish what martial arts means to you and why you wield a sword. Even if your goal is straight ahead, walking toward it with your eyes closed is no different from treading a dangerous path."