Guest Dragon
After the commotion had swept through and passed over Yichang, many things found their way back to where they belonged.
The signboards of Seongun Inn and the Sangwon Fabric Shop were restored to their rightful places. The massive boundary stone that had vanished returned to its spot, and Oh Jeongsan's treasured wild ginseng wine found its way back to its owner as well.
Jin Seongun handed over the thief to Oh Jeongsan along with the wine, and Oh Jeongsan promised he would take responsibility and send the culprit to the Martial Alliance himself.
"Finally, some peace and quiet."
Jin Seongun wiped down the inn's tables with a look of deep satisfaction. Seo Yugyeom, who had dragged himself to work late as usual, smirked as he passed by.
"In early again today, huh, Guest Dragon."
"……"
Jin Seongun let out a long, weary sigh.
Seomun Ak, who had abruptly appeared at the shop, greeted him with a cheerful grin.
"Starting tomorrow I'll be showing up early again too, Guest Dragon."
"……"
Ever since the incident at Muhan Bank, where Sama Hui's intricate formation had been shattered by nothing more than raw physical force, the gossip-lovers of the world had done what gossip-lovers always do — spread the tale far and wide. And so Jin Seongun acquired a new alias.
He wasn't particularly fond of it, but Seo Yugyeom and Seomun Ak had noticed his displeasure, and now they attached the title to the end of every single sentence with painstaking dedication.
Guest Dragon.
The finest rising talents of the age were known as the Five Dragons and Three Phoenixes. Among them, Sama Hui — once called the Formation Dragon — had now stepped down from his seat.
His internal injuries from the destruction of the formation were so severe that, by all accounts, he would need five or six years of nothing but rest and recovery before he could walk and eat on his own again.
His life as a martial artist, in other words, was effectively over.
Jin Seongun heard the news from Tang Soyeon as well, but he felt no particular guilt about it.
It was the man's own karma, was it not?
To slander someone, to belittle them… to even try to kill them — then one must also be prepared to pay that price in full.
Before long, Jin Seongun erased the very name Sama Hui from his mind.
Getting ready for the morning rush was a far more pressing matter.
He had just finished arranging the tables and chairs and was sweeping the floor when a familiar woman appeared at the inn's entrance.
Jin Seongun regarded her with open puzzlement.
"What brings you here?"
"Nothing in particular."
It was Namgung Rin, the Sword Phoenix.
He had never exchanged a single word with her. Even during the confrontation with Sama Hui, she had simply stood quietly at the back.
For his part, Jin Seongun felt neither fondness nor hostility toward her. She was, quite simply, a woman of the Namgung Clan. That was the extent of it.
"Are we the sort of people who just watch each other, then?"
It was an entirely genuine question.
Namgung Rin gave a wry smile.
"I suppose not."
She, too, had gone through no small amount of deliberation before coming here.
After everything at Muhan Bank was settled and she had returned to her lodgings, she had spent a long while thinking.
Tang Soyeon, Baek Sang and Baek Seol, Seomun Ak.
All four of them had grown dramatically in their martial prowess.
Naturally, none of them had crossed blades with true killing intent, but even sparring alone was enough to reveal how far each had come.
Baekri Jung, after facing Seomun Ak, had returned straight to his clan that very night, saying he needed to enter closed-door cultivation.
All four had been exceptional martial artists to begin with, of course. Yet she found it hard to believe there was no other reason behind such sudden, simultaneous growth on all their parts.
The answer, unexpectedly, was crystal clear. The only thing the four of them had in common was Seongun Inn.
"Spar with me, please."
Jin Seongun stared at her in disbelief.
However much he considered it, the scions of great clans all seemed to be rather strange people.
Tang Soyeon and Seomun Ak were no exceptions.
Though, to be fair, there was also Seo Yugyeom, who was strange despite being no scion of any great clan at all.
As Jin Seongun stood there staring blankly at Namgung Rin amid these wandering thoughts, she soon smiled wryly again.
"I suppose that's a no, then?"
"There's no reason for it."
"Fair enough."
Namgung Rin nodded obediently.
She could hardly force a sword on someone who wanted nothing to do with her. Besides, she had the distinct feeling that pressing the matter might actually get her killed.
The affair with Sama Hui had served as an excellent lesson for all the rising talents of the age.
She turned to leave, then paused abruptly.
"I'm not actually all that close with Young Hero Sama, you know. Our families are simply deeply entangled, that's all. Just… thought you should know."
Jin Seongun shrugged.
What was he supposed to do with that?
Namgung Rin nodded once more and vanished.
That evening, Tang Soyeon, Baek Sang, and Baek Seol came to say their farewells at Seongun Inn.
Somewhere along the way, Namgung Rin had quietly slipped into their company as well.
"You're all leaving, then."
At Jin Seongun's question, they all hesitated and nodded.
The thief had truly been caught, which meant it was time for them to go.
None of them had imagined that the thief they'd chased for so long would be caught not by any of them, but by Jin Seongun…
Still better than having that bastard Sama Hui catch him.
The thought put Tang Soyeon considerably at ease. After all, everyone had assumed the thief would inevitably fall to Sama Hui and his formations.
While Jin Seongun, Seo Yugyeom, and Seomun Ak exchanged brief parting words with the young heroes, Noh Sangwon stood out in front of the shop, shooting sidelong glances at them all with a face full of world-weary regret.
So happiness ends just like that, does it.
Lately, thanks to all the visiting martial artists, the Sangwon Fabric Shop had been enjoying an absolute golden age.
Better still, they were all pampered young masters and ladies from great houses — the moment their clothes suffered the tiniest tear, they simply discarded them and bought new ones.
Ordinary customers would patch a garment and be done with it, but watching these young scions buy fresh fabric without a second thought had genuinely moved Noh Sangwon to his core.
And now those happy days were over.
He was consoling himself with the fact that he'd made a tidy sum over the past several days when Namgung Rin came striding purposefully toward him.
"Mister."
"Ah — yes, my lady!"
Noh Sangwon knew perfectly well she was the daughter of the Namgung Clan, and so treated her with the utmost courtesy.
Then came her offer.
"The quality of your cloth is excellent. Would you consider entering into a direct trade with the Namgung Clan?"
Noh Sangwon's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
The Namgung Clan was, in name and in fact, one of the foremost noble houses of the Central Plains — and among the Five Great Clans, they were famously the wealthiest by far.
How else could the head of the Namgung Clan, the Sword King himself, have earned the nickname "the King of Anhui"?
"W-wait just a moment!"
Moving with a speed entirely unbecoming of his girth, Noh Sangwon darted into the shop and back out again.
In his hands was a trade contract.
Without a moment's hesitation, Namgung Rin pressed her seal straight onto it.
"Do you… usually carry your seal around with you?"
"……"
Namgung Rin flinched.
Which meant, in other words, that she had prepared for this exact situation in advance.
From the start, her whole purpose in coming to Yichang had been to establish a connection of some kind. Some inexplicable instinct had kept telling her, all through the night, that she simply had to.
But Noh Sangwon had no intention of offending his business partner, so he smoothly moved on to another topic.
"That said — don't you need to discuss a deal like this with your Clan Leader or the Elder of Affairs first?"
"I have that much authority myself, so it's fine."
Uncharacteristically boasting about her own standing, she stole a glance at Jin Seongun.
Naturally, he showed no interest whatsoever.
Namgung Rin let out a small sigh.
Martial Alliance Headquarters.
Having received the report of what had transpired in Yichang, Sama Baek wore a faint, rueful smile.
"Guest Dragon, is it. Now I understand why the White Sword Hall Leader spoke of him as she did."
The subordinate delivering the report was quietly anxious. The one who had suffered the greatest loss in this whole affair was none other than the Chief Strategist's own grandson, Sama Hui.
Yet contrary to his worries, the Chief Strategist seemed in remarkably good spirits.
"Ah, the thief is being held in our jail for the time being. But she refuses to say a word. Shall we employ somewhat… rougher methods?"
"No need. Leave her be, and it will resolve itself."
"Understood, sir."
The subordinate wondered exactly how it would resolve itself, but did not presume to ask. If the Chief Strategist said so, he would surely see it confirmed soon enough.
Within the Martial Alliance — no, in the entire righteous world of murim — Sama Baek was simply that kind of man.
Having dismissed his subordinate, Sama Baek draped over his shoulders a white robe emblazoned with the character for Alliance and stepped out of his office.
His destination was the infirmary within the Alliance headquarters.
The physicians there merely glanced at the Chief Strategist as he passed, then returned to their work.
It had not always been so. In the early days, whenever Sama Baek visited, everyone would startle, abandon what they were doing, and scramble to bow and greet him.
Each time, Sama Baek would instead scold them. A physician's attention belonged to the patient — how could they simply drop everything like that?
Ever since, the physicians paid him no mind when he came — indeed, even when the Alliance Leader himself came — so long as they were in the middle of treating a patient.
And in truth, Sama Baek never stopped encouraging and praising them for it.
"Hard at work as always, I see."
Having offered his words of encouragement, Sama Baek crossed the infirmary and headed toward one particular room.
Sama Hui was recovering there. His injuries were no simple wounds but grave internal damage, and so they had to be treated by the Alliance's own physicians.
All the Alliance's physicians had trained in martial arts themselves, for the injuries of martial artists required treatment of a fundamentally different kind than those of ordinary people.
Spotting Sama Baek, Sama Hui strained to lift himself and bowed his head.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what, exactly?"
Sama Hui pressed his lips tightly shut.
Yes. What was he sorry for?
After a moment of silence, Sama Baek smiled gently and spoke.
"Empty your mind of such thoughts and devote yourself to recovery."
"……Chief Strategist. For me, it's already over."
Sama Hui was at the very age when one laid the foundations of one's cultivation. To discard that entire period, he believed, was to discard something beyond all reclaiming.
Sama Baek answered in a calm, even voice.
"Your ancestor Zichang — Sima Qian — suffered the punishment of mutilation, endured that humiliation of body and mind, and still he did not surrender. He completed the Records of the Grand Historian even within prison, and rose to become Prefect of the Palace Secretariat. Compared to him, what exactly have you lost?"
"……"
"Acknowledge that your situation is not some calamity visited upon you, but the fruit of your own deeds — and then strive onward."
Sama Baek knew his grandson's twisted temperament all too well. One of the few regrets of his life was Sama Hui himself.
He had neglected his own household under the pretext that Alliance matters kept him busy. He had failed to discipline the boy sternly when it mattered, and he now knew that neither grandfather nor father could set him straight anymore.
A young man this fully grown could not have his nature reshaped by anyone else's teaching. Only his own awakening could accomplish that.
And now, at last, that opportunity had arrived.
Of course, given his grandson's temperament, he could hardly expect much from it. Even so, Sama Baek patted his grandson's shoulder and left the infirmary. For the moment, that was the only thing he could do.
.
.
.
Before he could even return to his office, Sama Baek found himself obliged to receive a guest.
The central plaza of the Martial Alliance.
Every single person crossing that vast expanse was staring at one spot.
A middle-aged woman.
Her flowing crimson hair alone would have drawn every eye, but her sharp, elegant features and her lofty, imposing air made it simply impossible for anyone to look away.
Spotting her, Sama Baek chuckled warmly.
"You've come at last. It seems we must go inside and talk."
Sama Baek escorted her to his office.
Even beside the Chief Strategist of the Martial Alliance, her noble bearing did not fade in the slightest.
Soon the two of them sat facing one another across a desk.
"…I owe you an apology, Chief Strategist."
She bowed her head to Sama Baek.
He smiled, as though he had known everything all along.
"No one was harmed, and every stolen item was returned to its owner without so much as a scratch. There is nothing here that need grow into a larger affair."
"……"
She sighed, then set the chest she had brought onto the desk.
"Compensation for those who suffered losses, the bounty that was placed on my head, and a token of gratitude for the Alliance's trouble — it's all in there."
"You wouldn't mind if we distributed the goodwill to the victims rather than the Alliance itself?"
"…Of course not."
She bowed her head low, looking for all the world as though she had ten mouths and still not a word to say in her defense.
Before long, Sama Baek gave an order outside, and after a short while, a thief who looked remarkably like her was ushered into the office.
"Pay your respects. This is Chief Strategist Sama Baek."
She — Chae Gahwi — said this to her daughter.
And the thief bent her waist in a graceful bow.
"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Chae Seoryeong."
"Ho ho, how you've grown."
"Have you seen me before?"
"I have. Back when you were about this tall."
Sama Baek held out a hand at the height of a small child, then continued with laughter lingering in his voice.
"So — was this journey through the Jianghu to your satisfaction?"
"…For that, I'm sorry. Again."
"You never crossed the line, so it's forgiven. But you must be more careful from now on. However free of malice you may be, if the outcome is a grievous one, the Alliance has no choice but to draw its blade."
The tone was gentle, but for an instant his eyes held an edge like a naked blade, pressing down upon her.
Chae Seoryeong bowed her head once more.
Then, remembering something from Yichang, she lifted her face and spoke.
"Hold on, though. Is that Sama Hui fellow, or whatever his name is — is he your grandson, Chief Strategist?"
"…Well. Yes."
"His head seemed a bit twisted to me, you know. Shouldn't you fix that?"
"Ho ho…"
Sama Baek let out an awkward laugh. He thought the very same thing, and so had nothing else to say.
But Chae Seoryeong's mother — Chae Gahwi, Lord of Nakhwajeong — was of a different mind entirely.
Having maintained her dignified poise throughout, she now flushed faintly and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Seoryeong, child. You are the one who was caught by the Alliance while committing theft."
"That's true, but I never hurt anyone. Meanwhile, that Sama Hui tried to kill me and the waiter. Fine, I suppose he had cause with me — I was caught stealing, after all. But what crime had the waiter committed, that he tried to kill him?"
It was the sort of remark that could make for uncomfortable listening.
And uncomfortable truths are always the hardest to stomach.
Yet Sama Baek did not lose his composure, keeping his smile in place — for the point Chae Seoryeong raised was, after all, one he had already acknowledged plainly within himself.
"Guest Dragon, you mean. He must have envied him. Every word you say is entirely correct. I failed to raise him properly. I apologize for the trouble he caused."
"…No, I wasn't saying it to get an apology from you. I'll say it again — I'm fine. It's the waiter who was wronged."
"Ho ho. I will be sure to pass along my apology to that young man as well."
"I'm glad you're different from Sama Hui, Chief Strategist."
"Ho ho ho…"
Every so often, an innocent kind of wickedness could fluster even the aged and venerable Wise One himself.
It was Chae Gahwi, thanks to her audacious daughter, who bore the burden of it all.
"…I apologize, Chief Strategist."
"You've raised your daughter to be remarkably forthright and clear-headed. Had I known this would come to pass, I ought to have visited you, Manor Lord, back when Hui was born and begged for your secrets of child-rearing."
Chae Gahwi gave an embarrassed smile.
Soon the two of them paid their final respects to Sama Baek and left the office.
Almost immediately, a dull thwack of a heavy blow echoed down the corridor, followed by Chae Seoryeong's yelp.
Sama Baek smiled warmly to himself.
That family, it seemed, had been ruled by iron-willed matriarchs just as much decades ago as it was today.
And Chae Gahwi was, by all accounts, the gentlest Lord of Nakhwajeong in its entire history.
"Nakhwajeong and the Guest Dragon…"
Before long, Sama Baek drew brush, ink, and paper toward him, wrote at length, and handed the letter to his subordinate.