The Icy Stare
Truthfully, Cheong had no grand reason for teasing the two of them. If anything, it was simply the satisfying impact that made hitting them fun. When she told Gongson Yoye, This body has reached the Transcendent realm, the girl would just gasp and say, “Wow, Young Lady Seomun, you’re truly amazing!”—which took all the fun out of it. Besides, Gongson Yoye had genuinely been beaten black and blue while in a state of selflessness, so Cheong felt both grateful and guilty. At least it had been a training sword without an edge. Had it been a real blade, Gongson Yoye would have been sliced into four neat pieces, then diced further until nothing remained but scraps.
As for Dang Nan-a, striking her with raw realm difference was pointless—she simply wouldn’t feel it. The Tang Clan had unofficially joined hands with the royal family and even possessed cannons, making them, for all practical purposes, the foremost power in the current Central Plains. With such terrifying asymmetric might—cannon fire combined with poison projectiles—the daughter of the Tang Clan had little interest in personal martial skill.
So Cheong began searching for someone worth actively provoking. In truth, she didn’t have to look far. The Dragon-Phoenix Gathering was full of promising young talents. Good grief, look at these Peak realm brats, drinking and chatting like they’ve all the time in the world. When I was at Peak, I was grinding day and night—no sleep, no meals, just swinging my sword until my arms fell off. Not that I’m bitter.
“Hey, isn’t that Changbin?”
“Hic—! M-Mount Hua’s, Mount Hua’s Grand Elder has arrived…!”
“What’s with you? Why are you all stiff again? We haven’t seen each other for a while and you’re back to being awkward?”
“It’s not that, it’s just… the Sect Leader keeps calling you his youngest junior sister, and I, this humble one, dares not…”
Changbin kept stealing glances at her, so Cheong smiled crookedly. “Come on, we’re friends. It seems the Real Man Yuha thinks well of me, but how could I become a grand elder to a Mount Hua disciple? Just relax. Be at ease.”
“Ah, um. Then… I’ll do that…”
“But let’s be clear. We were friends. I don’t care about seniority. However, don’t even think about trying to match a Transcendent expert. A martial artist should be judged by their martial arts, shouldn’t they?”
“Uh… Then what should this one call you…?”
Changbin was floundering so badly that Cheong let out a long sigh. This guy’s hopeless too. How am I supposed to joke with someone who can’t even meet my eyes?
“Aigoo, I can’t even tease you, Changbin. Loosen up a bit, will you? Act like a man. We’ve been friends for how long now, and you’re still treating me like a stranger?”
“I-I am relaxed, really relaxed…”
“Fine, whatever. Pour me a drink.”
Because a woman had joined their group, Changbin sipped his wine in tiny, precious amounts, savoring every drop. Cheong filled her own cup, then glanced around. The person she actually wanted to tease wasn’t in sight—only a line of men making eye contact with her. Hmm. Maybe I should’ve worn the veil after all. Since I didn’t bother covering my face, they’re practically drilling holes through it.
The enthusiastic hospitality once shown by the five Tang brothers was nowhere to be found. In the Central Plains, a woman stronger than oneself was simply too burdensome. After all, a man was supposed to take multiple wives and concubines and live in comfort. If his main wife was a supreme expert, the best he could hope for was not getting beaten. This directly violated the unspoken agreement of the Central Plains: in courtship, women reigned supreme and men had to offer everything, even their hearts. But after marriage, men reigned supreme, and wives competed to become the most beloved through coquetry and seduction.
Then a beauty caught Cheong’s eye. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, her expression melancholic yet utterly indifferent. Yet the teardrop mole beneath her eye was so seductive that Cheong unconsciously swallowed. Bingseolhwa, Seol I-ri.
After patting Changbin’s shoulder, Cheong rose and approached her. When she sat directly across, an indifferent gaze flew straight at her. Cheong grinned and greeted her.
“Hey there. Hello? You’re Bingseolhwa, Seol I-ri, right? I’m Seomun Cheong.”
“Yes.”
Cheong’s words caught in her throat. Was “yes” the normal response here? And yes to what? That she was fine? That she was Bingseolhwa? Or that she knew who Seomun Cheong was?
While Cheong floundered, Seol I-ri spoke again. “Your business.”
“Huh?”
“What is your business?”
Cheong grinned and tapped the table. “Nothing special. I just wanted to say hello. The moment I saw you, I thought, ‘Wow, she’s pretty. So pretty I want to be friends.’ And up close, you’re even prettier.”
“Yes.”
Another single-word answer. That single syllable seemed to contain some mysterious power that sealed people’s mouths. Seol I-ri regarded the speechless Cheong and opened her lips once more. “Is there anything else you wish to say?”
It was the sort of line that meant I’ve seen enough, now leave. A cold wind blew through the words.
“Um. Did I do something rude?”
“No.”
“Is there something you dislike?”
“No.”
“Then you just don’t want to talk with me?”
“Yes.”
With that, Seol I-ri pressed her lips shut. The epithet Bingseolhwa wasn’t for nothing—talking to a mirror might have been more productive. Damn, returning a manual isn’t easy. Seolgajik had given her the Taeeum Oknyeo Singong and asked her to return it to someone from the North Sea Ice Palace if she ever met them. Since she’d heard Seol I-ri was from the Ice Palace, she’d tried to ask about it, but…
Then her eyes fell on the teapot. Cheong grinned and tilted it. The distinctive aroma of Dragon Well tea wafted up—because it was steaming hot. Cheong circulated her inner energy and chilled the tea until frost formed on the surface. It was the cold Dragon Well tea she preferred. Being from her homeland, after all. Koreans would drink iced bean water even during an ice age that wiped out humanity. To Central Plains people, who believed any liquid not piping hot was harmful to the body, this was practically a crime against heaven and earth.
Seol I-ri’s eyes widened at the atrocity. “Just now—”
“This? Drinking Dragon Well cold is actually quite nice. You should try it too, Seol I-ri. No, here, have a sip—”
“I don’t want to. Absolutely not.”
The refusal came before Cheong even finished speaking—firm and unyielding.
“Nobody ever understands…”
“Just now. You used an ice art. May I ask which one you’ve learned?”
“Oh, you know ice arts! This is called Taeeum Oknyeo Singong. It’s really, really, really cold. Just like your attitude, Seol I-ri.”
“How—how did you—!”
“Does the ‘how’ matter? What matters is that I possess the manual for Taeeum Oknyeo Singong, and I was asked to return it to someone from the Ice Palace.”
“Who—who asked you to do that?”
“Well, I left the manual back at the Goddess Sect, but since I’ve already learned it, I can write you a new copy. I’ll take responsibility for burning the original, so don’t worry.”
“Forget that—who, who taught it to you?”
Forget that? Cheong tilted her head. It was a golden-bordered manual called a divine art, yet she was treating it so dismissively. Maybe because she was a direct disciple of the Ice Palace and had already learned the Bingbaek-singong or whatever it was, so she didn’t need it?
“For the informant’s protection, their identity is strictly confidential. I received permission to learn it on the condition that I return it, so please don’t press the matter—”
“Seolgajik. It was that bastard, wasn’t it?”
Seol I-ri cut her off, her tone frigid enough to produce frost. Cheong immediately concluded that they were acquaintances on very bad terms.
“That man is a criminal of the Ice Palace. Not only did he murder his master and senior brothers, he burned down the sect and fled—an evil demonic leader.”
“Hey, I said the identity is confidential. Anyway, I’ll transcribe the manual for you by tomorrow—no, the day after tomorrow. Just know that much.”
If she stayed any longer, she’d only end up spinning more lies. Besides, from the sound of it, Seol I-ri held considerable ill will toward Seolgajik. Getting close would only cause trouble. Sigh. I really wanted to befriend Lady Seol, too. But abandoning friendship just to chase a woman wasn’t something a true man did. She’d have to give up with tears in her eyes. Why is it that every woman I like turns out to be some final boss who’s also my friend’s mortal enemy? Is there some kind of curse on frail, pitiful-looking girls…?
Cheong left, regret trailing behind her. Seol I-ri, however, did not let go of her regret. In fact, she displayed it openly. Her gaze followed Cheong directly. Though human eyes were meant to roll and observe their surroundings, hers remained fixed straight ahead on Cheong’s face—like an owl or some other bird of prey. Even if it was her type, it was a little frightening. Or rather, her type had completely collapsed.
While Cheong was shuddering, a voice called out. “Cheong-ah, listen, Grandfather saw an amazing iron palm master at the market and wants to buy a few daggers. Want to come with—wait, what? Cheong, what did you do to Seolhwa?”
“I just tried talking to her. She was cold, so I gave up.”
“What? You again? This time you’re trying to drag Seolhwa into your bed?”
“Doesn’t that sound a bit strange…?”
It sounded strange if you only listened to the words, but not when you heard the tone. It was said with a laugh, the kind of lighthearted teasing she’d been tossing around lately.
“But why is she like that? She’s staring so intensely. If she has something to say, she should just say it. Ugh, it’s a little scary though.”
“I think so too. I didn’t notice before, but she must have a persistent side.”
She had so coldly and thoroughly rejected conversation that Cheong had assumed that was simply her nature. But apparently, one had to experience a person’s true character firsthand. Being stared at so blatantly made it impossible not to notice, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
“Hmm. This won’t do.”
Cheong finally declared her retreat. At this rate, she couldn’t even brag properly. She’d finally reached Transcendent realm—why couldn’t she show it off? She was supposed to spread the great achievements of the Transcendent Cheong far and wide so everyone could learn from them. With a reluctant heart, she folded away her wholesome plan of motivating the younger generation through inspiration and a healthy sense of crisis. Guess I’ll just go back and diligently copy the Taeeum Oknyeo Singong manual today.
On the way back, Dang Nan-a started scolding her again. “What’s with you, Cheong-ah? Why are you walking like that?”
“What? What am I doing?”
“Why are you walking so lewdly? Ha. As if having two full moons hanging off you wasn’t enough. I can’t live like this. This is why you change women every night. Come on, be honest. Is it me? Or Gongson? Who’s better in bed?”
“If I had to choose, Yoye’s better. At least she doesn’t stutter.”
“I don’t stutter anymore either, you know?”
“It’s not that you don’t stutter, it’s that you can’t. Be honest—when I’m asleep, how much do you grope me? You must get really excited, right?”
Thanks to the Awakening Divine Art heightening her senses, Cheong kept waking up from Dang Nan-a’s impure touches. After being woken more than ten times, even Cheong had to snap and demand to sleep.
“N-no, I don’t! I just… in my sleep, I accidentally touch you a little. It’s a completely natural hand movement, yeah, that kind of thing.”
Yet she couldn’t meet Cheong’s eyes while saying it. Thanks to that, the matter of Cheong’s supposedly lewd gait was forgotten. In truth, Cheong was only being careful not to make noise. She had no way of knowing what her gait actually looked like. The primitive technology of the ancient Central Plains didn’t possess any smooth surface capable of reflecting one’s image. Glass itself was a rare treasure. So she never had the awkward experience, common in her homeland, of approaching a car window or building’s glass wall to fix her hair only to lock eyes with someone inside.
And since Cheong was the first female Divine Thief in history, Cheon Yuhak merely reminisced—“Ah, I was like that too”—without any particular reaction. Seomun Su-rin’s nagging was simply because her master’s standards for feminine conduct were strict; she couldn’t tolerate heel-lifting and tiptoeing.
After bickering their way back to Mucheon Pavilion in good spirits, a maid greeted Cheong with news. There was a guest waiting inside.