So This Was Your Answer
So this was the answer you'd give me.
It was early morning. Hyeon Un, the White Cloud Sword and elder of the Wudang Sect, sat facing his disciple Oh Jeong-san, and the expressions on both their faces were unusually grave.
"You will remain here today."
"Pardon?"
"Before I deal with the South Black League business, I intend to pay a visit to the cook and the young master of Seongun Inn."
There was no mistaking the grim resolve in Hyeon Un's voice. Oh Jeong-san swallowed a quiet sigh. His master, it seemed, found the two of them deeply suspicious.
"Master, I'll grant your concerns about Cook Seo, but Seong-un is by no means a bad man."
Had Seo Yugyeom been present, he would have leapt out of his skin at those words.
Hyeon Un's eyes narrowed. "On what grounds do you assert that so confidently?"
He did not dismiss his disciple's words lightly. Oh Jeong-san was a man whose talents as a merchant outstripped his talents as a martial artist, and merchants, as a rule, were handlers of money and of people. Surely, then, there was some reasoning behind such a firm declaration.
"The Prosperity Association Leader tormented Seong-un considerably. No—tormented is too mild a word. Riding on the back of his father, the Southern Black Lotus Lord, he wielded even the county magistrate like a puppet. What in this world could he possibly have feared? And yet, even with the martial skill to kill the man outright, Seong-un did not simply cut him down. Instead, he came to me and asked for my help."
"He must have dreaded the aftermath. The South Black League is hardly some neighborhood corner shop."
Oh Jeong-san shook his head. As he saw it, Jin Seong-un was a man strangely devoid of fear.
"No, Master. What Seong-un asked of me was to prevent chaos in the Yichang merchant quarter once the Prosperity Association was gone."
A flicker of surprise crossed Hyeon Un's eyes. However rotten the Prosperity Association had become, when a region's ruler vanished overnight, the local economy was bound to quake. Worse still, there was every chance that men even more vicious might move in to fill the vacuum.
"He thinks more deeply than he looks, then."
Hyeon Un nodded readily and acknowledged Jin Seong-un's choice. He bore the young man no malice—only suspicion.
Hyeon Un sank briefly into thought. A young master of truly remarkable martial skill, one who could have beaten down his tormentors on the spot, and yet had gone out of his way to endure the trouble of seeking out Oh Jeong-san and winning him over—all out of consideration for his fellow merchants.
For once, Oh Jeong-san put force into his voice before his master. "Choosing inconvenience for himself out of consideration for others. How could such a man be called evil? You know as well as I do, Master, that even seasoned martial artists of the murim struggle to do this."
Hyeon Un nodded. Wasn't it true that among the so-called scions of great families, there were far too many wretches? Men who swaggered on the strength of their martial skill and connections, treating the common folk as dirt beneath their heels—that described the vast majority of them. Even within the Wudang Sect, no small number of young disciples carried that air of entitlement. Most did improve as they aged and their minds matured, but still…
At that hot-blooded age, putting others before oneself is no small feat.
In that light, he could partly understand why Oh Jeong-san vouched for Jin Seong-un so ardently. Gazing into his disciple's conviction-filled eyes, Hyeon Un gave a small nod.
"I will take what you've said under advisement. All the same, I cannot simply leave this unverified. All the more so if, as you claim, he practices a martial art of the Taoist lineage."
As an elder of the Wudang Sect, the foremost representative of the Taoist schools, Hyeon Un felt a certain obligation to learn more about this Jin Seong-un.
He rose from his seat. Oh Jeong-san started to dissuade him, then thought better of it. His master was more stubborn than anyone else in all of Wudang.
"…Very well. Travel safely, Master."
Oh Jeong-san stood and bowed at the waist, but Hyeon Un only strode out of the office with oddly grave eyes.
Hyeon Un headed straight for Seongun Inn. Having heard his disciple out, he found himself thinking that Jin Seong-un might be—just a little, or perhaps quite a lot—a strong and virtuous young master. But to grasp a man's true nature, a cold heart was required.
So Hyeon Un deliberately twisted his own mood askew, as if to say that no amount of pretty words or carefully staged behavior would sway him.
When he arrived at Seongun Inn, he pushed open the door and entered with a bearing that was at once dignified and brusque. Thanks to the battle with the Black Death Brigade the day before, chairs and tables still lay in pieces, and word had gone around that the inn would be closed for a few days. And yet there were customers.
Hyeon Un's eyes narrowed. Surveying their faces, he saw they were all children—gaunt, grimy little figures exuding a faint odor.
Beggars, are they?
Just as that thought formed, Jin Seong-un approached, a cloth draped over his arm.
"Welcome, Elder."
Jin Seong-un bowed his head with the courtesy one might show an elderly neighbor—which, as Oh Jeong-san's master, was only fitting. Hyeon Un recalled the prickly resolve he'd steeled himself with moments ago and asked bluntly,
"I heard business was closed."
"Yes. We need to replace the broken furniture."
"And yet."
Hyeon Un turned his gaze on the children. At once, the youngsters eating their meal began stealing glances at him, and Hyeon Un, feeling an odd pang of guilt, coughed drily and looked away.
Then a thread of transmitted voice brushed past his ear.
"Children with nowhere else to go. They are the legacy of the Prosperity Association Leader's lifetime of cruelty."
Yichang had more than its share of orphans—thanks to the Association Leader's depredations, many had lost parents or watched their entire households collapse.
Jin Seong-un had begun feeding such children some time ago. Of course, it was impossible during business hours, so he called them in for a brief meal in the early morning. The children, hardened by hardship at a tender age, were quick-witted about reading the room; they would wolf down their food in no time and slip out the door.
Hyeon Un's pupils wavered slightly. He had never expected his silent question to be answered through transmitted voice, and he certainly hadn't expected this—he hadn't merely taken on customers, he was performing an act of quiet charity.
Hyeon Un felt his heart slacken for an instant and hurriedly gathered himself.
"Why? Merchants are, by nature, men who calculate to the last coin. They do not extend kindness without price. Are you perhaps using these parentless children for some…"
"No particular reason. Only that when I was young, I lived that same life. Back then, too, there were adults who occasionally offered me a place to sleep and something to eat."
That was all. He had simply taken the help he'd received as a child and, now grown, passed it on to other children.
At that answer, Hyeon Un's heart loosened all the way through. Taoists had always loved a good deed.
"…I sss-see."
Maybe he really is a good young man after all.
In the middle of that thought, the cook poked his head out from the kitchen. The moment Hyeon Un met the vicious killing intent buried in the man's eyes, his senses snapped sharply back to attention.
"Ahem! If it's no trouble, might I trouble you for a meal as well? Fear not—I brought money today."
"Of course. Please, take any seat you like."
Jin Seong-un guided him with meticulous courtesy—though in truth, most of the tables were smashed, leaving precious few places to sit.
A flicker of sympathy crossed Hyeon Un's mind. He'd heard the young man had only recently opened this establishment with money scraped together over a lifetime of service…
There I go again!
Hyeon Un gathered himself for the third time. Ever since entering the inn, his heart kept loosening without his permission.
He ordered a simple wine with a light accompaniment—and Jin Seong-un flinched. Observing this, Hyeon Un said,
"You were about to ask whether a Taoist may drink, weren't you? And the dish you'd offer me is braised pork, no less."
Setting aside the questionable wisdom of pork for breakfast, Taoists were, as a rule, meant to abstain from wine and meat. But Hyeon Un did not.
The reason was simple.
"I'm allowed."
There was no one left to scold him for it. Who in the world would dare reprimand Hyeon Un of the White Cloud Sword, one of the Seven Masters of Wudang?
Jin Seong-un nodded. Something about that reasoning struck him as odd, but it was hardly his place to remark on another sect's affairs. He carried the order into the kitchen—whereupon Seo Yugyeom stuck his head back out and gave Hyeon Un a long, level look.
Braised pork? This Taoist has no shame at all.
It was precisely that look, and so Hyeon Un locked his gaze onto Seo Yugyeom and glared right back. Somehow, sparks seemed to crackle between the two men's stares.
Before long, Seo Yugyeom withdrew into the kitchen with a face full of grim resolve, swearing to discipline that suspicious, shameless Taoist with the flavors of the mortal world.
Tap, tap. Pork belly, judged by eye for the perfect balance of fat and lean, was roughly cut into squares and laid into a round wok. Yellow rock sugar went in, and the meat was swiftly tossed and seared.
The moment the surface took on the faintest hint of caramelized char, minced garlic, ginger, and scallion went in with soy sauce, and over a ferociously fierce flame the meat was flash-cooked while drinking in the fragrance.
Here lay the soul of braised pork—how fierce the flame, how swift the cooking.
What set Seo Yugyeom apart from any ordinary cook was simple: he was a man of the murim. He could not yet summon the True Samadhi Fire, but feeding his inner power into an already-burning flame and driving it higher—THAT he could do.
FWOOSH—!
The kitchen of Seongun Inn was swallowed in hellfire. Outside, the children eating their meal let out a collective gasp of awe.
The instant every ingredient was done, yellow rice wine was poured over the wok. With a sizzling hiss, a deep crimson sauce bubbled up, rich and glossy. A brief simmer, and a magnificent braised pork—mouthwatering to behold—was complete in the blink of an eye.
Seo Yugyeom handed the finished plate to Jin Seong-un with the defiant pride of a man who had nothing to prove to anyone.
Jin Seong-un emerged from the kitchen with the braised pork in one hand and a bottle of Jukyeopcheong wine in the other. Setting bottle and plate on the table, he said,
"This one is on the house. You are Master to Guild Leader Oh—how could I take your money?"
"Hoh…"
So there are still young men in this world who know their manners.
At that thought, Hyeon Un's heart softened a degree—and then, drinking in the astonishing color and aroma of the braised pork, it softened past all recovery and simply melted. The lingering memory of last night's stir-fried vegetables still clung to the tip of his tongue.
Hyeon Un swallowed and picked up his chopsticks, all thought of why he had come to Seongun Inn temporarily forgotten. He lifted a generous piece of the pork.
Hyeon Un, a master of the Transcendental Realm, could tell at a touch: this braised pork was cooked to absolute perfection. The springiness that traveled up through the chopsticks was anything but ordinary. Unlike dongpo pork, which falls apart at the gentlest pressure, braised pork demanded exactly this measure of resilience.
He placed the piece carefully in his mouth. His expression turned dead serious. So intense was his bearing that not only Jin Seong-un and Seo Yugyeom but even the children eating nearby watched him with tense faces.
Chewing steadily, his expression unchanging, Hyeon Un worked the pork to just the right moment—and at that precisely calibrated instant, knocked back a cup of Jukyeopcheong in one draught.
Gulp.
A brief silence followed. Then Hyeon Un set his chopsticks down on the table with a sharp clack, extended his index finger with ceremonial deliberateness, and pointed at Seo Yugyeom.
"…You. You are a cook."
Hyeon Un nodded, and Seo Yugyeom nodded back with the smug satisfaction of a man finally acknowledged.
Contrary to Oh Jeong-san's expectations, it was not Jin Seong-un but Seo Yugyeom who earned recognition first. Only then did the tension that had hung over the inn finally dissolve.
Hyeon Un gazed at the braised pork. He had eaten countless rare delicacies in his long life—a devoted gourmand, and as an elder of Wudang he had even been received at the Imperial Palace, where he had sampled the craftsmanship of the Royal Kitchen's master chefs.
He would dare to declare it: the cooking of this little inn could stand comparison with the Royal Kitchen itself.
He didn't know what life Seo Yugyeom had lived before—the killing intent in those eyes was real. But that this man was, here and now, a 'cook'—of that, no objection could be raised.
Then Hyeon Un's gaze shifted to Jin Seong-un. From Hyeon Un's standpoint, unlike the cook, this young man had demonstrated nothing and proven nothing—a thoroughly suspicious figure.
Granted, his manners are beyond reproach…
But if a man wished to construct a false front, what couldn't he manage? His suspicion of Jin Seong-un had not yet fully lifted.
All the while, Jin Seong-un was seeing the children out. As always, they bowed their heads in thanks, and he, with his characteristic placid expression, gently ruffled their hair one by one.
Hyeon Un's eyes narrowed. He had killed the Southern Black Lotus Lord's son and slaughtered his henchmen—and yet here he was, this calm, this tranquil. If nothing else, in sheer audacity and nerve, he seemed to surpass any young master Hyeon Un had ever laid eyes on.
When the children had disappeared from view, Jin Seong-un came back over to him.
"Was the meal to your liking?"
"Nothing could have been finer."
Hyeon Un was not the sort of man to protect his pride with grudging concessions like 'not bad at all' or 'I suppose I could stomach it.'
Jin Seong-un nodded as if relieved—and at the sight of him, Hyeon Un's eyes flashed. It was truly time to find out what this man was.
"I have questions for you."
Hyeon Un pointed at the seat across from him. There was something distinctly coercive in the gesture. When digging for the truth, the orthodox method was to seize the initiative from the very start.
But Jin Seong-un did not sit. He simply stood there, looking down at Hyeon Un in silence.
Hyeon Un's thick brows twitched at the sight. Their gazes collided in the empty air.
"I told you to sit."
Hyeon Un said it again, and this time a smoldering anger threaded through his voice.
Jin Seong-un's answer came without delay.
"I don't believe that will be necessary."
"How would you know what I mean to ask?"
"Because whatever you ask, my answer has already been decided."
This was the counsel of the Sword Immortal and the Merchant King. The Sword Immortal had taught him the method; the Merchant King, the manner of it. Recalling his masters' advice, Jin Seong-un reached out into empty air.
Fwaek—!
From the scabbard propped in a corner of the inn, a black blade slid free and leapt into Jin Seong-un's waiting hand. The Black Python Sword.
A flicker of surprise crossed Hyeon Un's eyes. Such effortless command of Spatial Telekinesis. It meant the young man was a master a full tier above even his own disciple, Oh Jeong-san. Considering his age, it was astonishing all over again—and it hardened Hyeon Un's resolve to unearth this man's true identity today, whatever it took.
"Questions and answers, then—no need for words wasted."
With a thin smile, Hyeon Un rose from his seat, and by the time he stood fully, the Taichi Sword—emblem of the Wudang Sect—was already in his hand. From the kitchen, Seo Yugyeom poked his head out.
"It won't taste good cold."
At that, Hyeon Un glanced back at the braised pork. It was, admittedly, a dish best eaten hot.
But with swords drawn and facing one another, there was no stopping now. Hyeon Un's identity was not that of a gourmand. He was a swordsman.
"So this was your answer, was it?"
Hyeon Un asked, staring fixedly at the Black Python Sword in Jin Seong-un's grip. Jin Seong-un answered only with a nod.
Just then, Noh Sang-won—whose nose had caught the scent of the braised pork with impossible precision—stepped through the inn's door.
"Say there, Seong-un! Cook Seo! What mouthwatering dish have you gone and made this ti—whoa, dear me."
The moment Noh Sang-won spotted the two men facing each other with drawn blades, he turned and walked straight back out with the smooth, fluid grace of flowing water.
That was the beginning.
As if bound by a prior pact, Hyeon Un and Jin Seong-un charged at each other the very instant Noh Sang-won vanished from sight.