The Mad Chicken (2)

Early morning.

The scene at Seongun Inn was the same as any other day. Han Seongchun and Seo Yugyeom trimmed the ingredients while Jin Seongun swept and wiped down the inn, preparing for business.

Jin Seongun liked this peace. Thanks to the Yanghe Daqu, guests had been flooding in of late — perhaps even a bit too many — but business doing well was a good thing, no matter how you looked at it.

"Sir Jin!"

A familiar voice called out of nowhere. Jin Seongun looked toward the entrance to find Tang Soyeon gazing back at him, her green eyes glittering in the sunlight.

It was hard to reconcile her cheerful manner now with the imperious attitude she'd worn the day they first met.

Everyone's changing, aren't they.

Jin Seongun considered it a good change. Tang Soyeon grinning away at who-knew-what, Seo Yugyeom grown comfortable in the kitchen, Han Seongchun slowly coming to accept his son's death, Seomun Ak scrubbing away at his old self. Above all, Jin Seongun's own change was the greatest of all.

Setting aside the fact that he'd learned martial arts, he had spent his whole life living quietly with his eyes fixed on a single goal — but lately he found himself laughing at absurdities, raging, and finding joys arriving one by one.

"Sir Jin, you should see who came with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me."

As Tang Soyeon said this, welcome faces popped out from either side of her.

Paek Sang and Paek Seol, the later-stage disciples of the Wudang Sect. Jin Seongun had already sensed their qi, so he wasn't startled — but they seemed to be expecting a surprise, so he obliged.

"Oh."

It was, by his own standards, a well-crafted performance of astonishment. To the three of them, however, it simply read as flat. Their interest drained away in an instant, and they filed inside.

Before long, Paek Sang and Paek Seol — as always — folded into a courteous fist-and-palm salute and spoke.

"It's been a while, honored sir."

"We hope you've been well in the meantime!"

The two of them were as impeccably polite as ever. They had heard Elder Hyeon Un's grand plan — that one day, Jin Seongun might be taken in as a disciple.

Truthfully, given Jin Seongun's personality, the odds of that plan succeeding looked rather slim... but regardless, if their martial uncle pulled it off, then Jin Seongun would become their martial uncle in turn.

Quite apart from that, he was also the benefactor who had saved their lives from Sikmugaek.

"Good to see you both."

When Jin Seongun answered with a nod, Paek Seol cast a sidelong glance toward the kitchen.

"Is Sir Seo inside as well?"

"Preparing ingredients."

At that very moment, Seo Yugyeom's head poked out of the kitchen, and he skipped straight to the point.

"Paek Seol. Kitchen. Now."

"Yes, yes, sir!"

She had helped out in the kitchen for a stretch a while back. She immediately planted her Taiji Sword in a corner of the kitchen and set to helping with the ingredient prep.

While Jin Seongun wore a bemused expression, Paek Sang scooped up the apron hanging on one wall and pulled it on.

"I'm afraid I can only help with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the inn in the morning. My sincere apologies, but I have other duties in the afternoon..."

The tone of an employee sheepishly requesting leave right after clocking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in, for reasons entirely beyond his control.

"...I never asked you to work here in the first place."

Jin Seongun smoothly reclaimed the apron from Paek Sang.

He could guess why the pair had come to Yichang: the thief. They hardly had idle hours to spare helping out at an inn. Back in the day, it had only happened because Hyeon Un and Oh Jeong-san had half-forced the job on them anyway.

Apron recovered, Jin Seongun went to the kitchen this time.

"Sir Seo, Miss Paek Seol has somewhere to be right now."

"Oh, is that right? Off you go."

Seo Yugyeom released her without a shred of regret. With Han Seongchun, that dependable veteran cook, in the kitchen, there was no reason to borrow a cat's paw.

"But mornings are fine, aren't they..."

Paek Seol hesitated. Jin Seongun's voice turned firm.

"They are not. I hear the thief works day and night alike."

In fact, the saber sheath had vanished from the Martial Alliance Leader's villa at what was, remarkably, estimated to be broad daylight.

Paek Seol set down the kitchen knife with unmistakable reluctance. Truthfully, even after learning to cook from Seo Yugyeom, she had often picked one up since. She'd spent her life learning a sword made only for cutting people — using that same sword to cook had turned out to be tremendous fun.

Regardless, Jin Seongun addressed the siblings.

"Sit wherever you like. I'll have a meal ready for you shortly."

He couldn't very well send friends who'd traveled all this way off on an empty stomach. As for Tang Soyeon, she had apparently come to eat in the first place — she was already seated.

Before long, Jin Seongun set steaming bowls of noodles before the three of them: a meat-broth noodle soup for Tang Soyeon, and vegetable-broth noodles for the two Taoists.

Just as the three were slurping their noodles while chorusing "Seo's cooking really is the best," the late-arriving Seomun Ak spotted them and broke into a delighted expression.

"Oh, you're here."

Seomun Ak had been training with the Seomun Clan Patriarch every night of late, so he had asked Jin Seongun's leave to start his shifts a little later.

"It's been a while."

"How have you been?"

Paek Sang and Paek Seol offered Seomun Ak easy greetings, while Tang Soyeon just waved a hand mid-bite and kept eating her noodles.

The relationships among the four had clearly changed from before.

In the old days, they had seen one another as fellow later-stage disciples of the Orthodox path — people they would be politically entangled with for the rest of their lives, obligated to maintain an appropriate distance and cordiality within the competing interests of their clans and sects.

But facing Sikmugaek together had changed that.

Comrades.

The experience of crossing life and death side by side had forged a bond far more intense than any years or events before it.

Seomun Ak no longer felt any need to flaunt his manliness at Tang Soyeon. Paek Sang and Paek Seol, whose parents ran a business in Sichuan, no longer tiptoed around her either. And Tang Soyeon was the same. She who had once quietly looked down on the three of them had grown humble ever since she'd come face to face with beings on an entirely different plane.

By the time everyone had somehow settled into sentimental expressions, Jin Seongun set a teapot down on their table and spoke.

"You all seem different somehow."

A throwaway remark. He'd simply noticed they looked better than before.

But all four faces flushed at once — because they remembered the outrageous behavior they'd pulled the day they first set foot in Seongun Inn. Seomun Ak, who had actually thrown a punch at Jin Seongun himself, cleared his throat awkwardly and retreated from his seat.

Jin Seongun stared at them in bewilderment, then turned to the Wudang siblings.

"I see you've gotten your Taiji Swords back."

Paek Sang's face lit up with pride.

"We returned them the day we left this inn, and ever since, we've lived every moment with the resolve to prove ourselves worthy of them."

"Me too. I wanted to be a martial artist I could stand tall beside when I saw you two again."

Faced with the two of them freshly declaring such grave aspirations, Jin Seongun pondered how to respond — and simply gave them a thumbs-up. Apparently that was answer enough, for both their faces brightened.

Tang Soyeon smiled a curious little smile. No doubt because she had lived with much the same resolve as the two of them.

"Then shall we see for ourselves? There's still some time before opening."

Seo Yugyeom came out of the kitchen wearing a provocative grin. The meaning was clear: enough talk about achievements — show them off. Of course, it was exactly what Paek Sang, Paek Seol, and Tang Soyeon had been hoping for.

...

Swish—!

The dagger Tang Soyeon flung carved dozens of trajectories into the empty air.

Seo Yugyeom's Heavenly Killing Short Saber turned them all aside — and in the process, he had moved barely two steps. It meant he still had plenty left in reserve.

Tang Soyeon gritted her teeth in frustration.

"I'm a poison specialist, not a hidden-weapon one!"

"Who asked?"

Seo Yugyeom waved it off with a snort, which only infuriated her further, and she whipped her dagger around all the more fiercely.

Against Jin Seongun, the gap had simply been too overwhelming — she hadn't even felt the urge to compete. But Seo Yugyeom was different.

I want to surpass him, no matter what.

As the person who would one day lead the Tang Clan, she wanted to be the very best of her generation, at least in poison and hidden weapons. At some point, Seo Yugyeom had become her target.

While the two traded hidden-weapon arts, Jin Seongun took on Paek Sang and Paek Seol simultaneously.

Deflecting in turn the sword strikes raining in from both flanks, Jin Seongun inwardly marveled.

They're different now.

The sharp edge of qi carried in their Taiji Swords had doubled in keenness compared to before — yet it no longer ran wild, gathering instead, wholly condensed at the tips of their blades. It was exactly like the sabers of Saryeonggeuk and Sikmugaek, whom he had faced not long ago. The two of them had, without realizing it, arrived at the very threshold of the later stage.

Jin Seongun held precisely half a breath's advantage over their level. This was the method the Martial Gods favored when training with him: the opponent endlessly chased the sensation of a strike that almost connected, driving themselves to their very limits.

Sure enough, the siblings' complexions were paling rapidly. Even though they were deliberately controlling their breathing, their panting had grown noticeably ragged.

Before long, the brother and sister exchanged a glance. They had swung their swords side by side their whole lives, and much passed between them on eyes alone.

This way, there's no end to it.

Before they managed any real result, they'd both simply exhaust themselves and collapse. Having reached some silent agreement, the two fixed their gaze on Jin Seongun once more.

In an instant, Paek Seol lunged forward, blade flashing. The somewhat reckless approach made her form crude, but the power packed within it swelled far greater.

Jin Seongun swung his iron sword to meet it.

The moment blade met blade —

Paek Seol, as if she had planned it all along, withdrew her sword without a flicker of resistance. And into that gap, fast as a darting arrow, Paek Sang charged.

The Great Cloud Heavy Sword (Taewoon Junggeom).

Not fast, but devastating in raw force. One of the rare hegemonic sword arts in all of Wudang. Its sole flaw was a certain slowness — and thanks to Paek Seol's feints buying time, that weakness had been perfectly erased.

The heavy sword, its weakness gone, fell toward Jin Seongun exhaling a thick killing intent.

Jin Seongun thought, once again, how remarkably well the siblings' coordination fit together, and reached out his sword to meet it.

And in that instant, Paek Seol — who should have been shifting aside — abruptly changed her stance and unleashed a swift-blade sword art.

The Taiji Wind Sword (Taegi Punggeom).

As though a fierce gale were carrying her blade, she came hurtling in at ferocious speed.

Jin Seongun found a thin smile forming on his lips without his meaning to.

He'd heard from Oh Jeong-san that Wudang had few swords embodying the principles of extreme speed or extreme weight. The Wudang sword itself, after all, pursued perfect balance above all else.

Yet these two each carried an opposite extreme, and together they formed a taiji of their own. He could feel, vividly, the anguish that must have gone into creating this joint technique.

Splendid.

And so Jin Seongun resolved to receive their sincerity with everything he had. It was the least courtesy — and the least duty — he owed them.

A moment no longer than the blink of an eye.

Jin Seongun shifted his momentum. In a flash, a red blaze coiled around his plain iron sword.

Since the Sword Immortal's art was, at its heart, a sword art, it could hardly have been better suited against a Wudang sword. Just as Jin Seongun was about to take the two of their strikes head-on, neither evading nor deflecting them —

...

Jin Seongun felt an unpleasant sensation brush the back of his neck. It was not the killing intent of Paek Sang or Paek Seol.

Someone had entered the inn. Someone with an energy so eccentric and disagreeable that Jin Seongun felt an aversion this blatant.

Han Seongchun was still inside the inn.

The moment the thought reached him, Jin Seongun withdrew his sword — and caught both siblings' blades with his bare hands.

"Huh?"

"Eh?"

The two siblings wore dumbfounded expressions. It had been their masterstroke, a single blow worthy of being called the culmination of everything they had. And it had been dispelled far too easily, far too anticlimactically. Not even with a sword — with bare hands. It felt like an adult snatching away a punch thrown by a child.

Jin Seongun put on an apologetic face. Like a man who had stepped, without meaning to, on a sapling just beginning to grow.

"Ah. My apologies. Someone's arrived outside."

With that, Jin Seongun turned and hurried away. The siblings stared blankly at his retreating back for a moment — then saluted in unison.

Contrary to Jin Seongun's worries, the pair had received an entirely new jolt.

"...I learned so much."

"If we hadn't stopped by Yichang when we did, arrogance might have filled our hearts..."

Paek Sang even shuddered once he realized it. Their growth had come at a frankly astonishing pace, and inwardly, the two of them had drifted subtly from the mindset they'd carried the day they first left Seongun Inn. Thanks to witnessing Jin Seongun's overwhelming martial prowess once more, they had found their original resolve again.

Jin Seongun felt absurdity at the greetings drifting from behind him, but he strode straight into the inn.

The moment he opened the door, a foul stench rolled over him.

Not a figurative one — a literal stench that stabbed viciously at his nose.

Jin Seongun, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with rare flinch, searched for the source of the smell. A middle-aged woman stood in the entrance in an almost outrageously dignified bearing, staring him down.

And at this distance, no less...

Could she have learned a martial art that exuded stench? Perhaps something akin to the Tang Clan's poison arts?

Even as these thoughts ran through his mind, the woman broke into a slow, deliberate smile, baring her teeth. Despite her disheveled appearance, her teeth were conspicuously even and white, which made the smile all the more striking.

"Welcome... to our establishment."

True to his decade-plus of experience as a veteran waiter, Jin Seongun maintained as much composure as he could muster.

"Hmph."

She accepted the greeting with an air of superiority and took a step closer — and the stench doubled.

"Mmnh..."

Letting out a groan, Jin Seongun glanced toward the inn entrance. Sima Hui had apparently not dared come in, and was watching from outside.

So she's the one he brought along.

She was no mere reeking woman, either. Jin Seongun could feel an energy intense enough to rank among the fiercest of any martial artist he had ever met. A stench that terrible, and a standing that let her drag along the eldest son of the Sima Clan — she was almost certainly a beggar elder of the Beggars' Sect.

An instinctive revulsion rose from deep within him.

The inn, as a rule, disliked the Beggars' Sect. The unorthodox Hao Clan, for all their professed philosophy, at least made a point of protecting waiters — but the Orthodox Beggars' Sect, sworn to uphold their own beggar's philosophy, would periodically come begging at the inn.

The problem was that they were beggars who had learned martial arts, and so their begging sometimes curdled into extortion.

The woman held a careful distance from Jin Seongun, watching him for a moment — then spoke with sudden conviction.

"Got you, you thief."

Her eyes gleamed.

Just as Jin Seongun's face twisted into an expression asking what nonsense this was —

Scree—!

The beggar woman of the Beggars' Sect hurtled toward him without warning. At full power, no less.

"...!"

Jin Seongun wore an expression of rare shock. Not because of her astonishing speed, the ferocious energy gathered in both her hands, or the madness boiling in her eyes.

It was because the closer she came, the worse the stench grew, exponentially.

Feeling the crisis of a lifetime, Jin Seongun instinctively kindled a blood-dark energy in his palm.