Sword-Song
The sparring matches continued after that.
What had begun with Seokjin, the youngest of the second-generation disciples, had somehow carried on all the way to Seok Kang, the senior disciple of them all.
Of course, Jin Seongun had not faced every disciple in turn. Among those of comparable skill, a single representative had stepped forward to fight on the others' behalf.
Now Jin Seongun and Seok Kang stood facing each other on the training ground.
Midway through, the Kunlun Sect had proposed a bout of forms alone, without internal energy, out of concern that Jin Seongun might tire. Since his true purpose was simply to observe the sword, Jin Seongun had readily agreed.
Before long, Seok Kang spoke up.
"Since this is the last bout, how about we make use of our internal energy?"
Worry rippled through the onlookers at his suggestion. The image of Seokjin sailing helplessly through the air during the very first match was still fresh in everyone's mind.
"Very well."
Jin Seongun accepted without protest.
Naturally, using internal energy did not mean either of them would fight at full strength.
This time, however, he did not yield the first strike. To extend such courtesy even to Seok Kang, the senior disciple of Kunlun, would have amounted to an insult to the entire sect.
Before long, the two men charged at one another, just as they had promised.
Clang—!
Their Cloud Dragon Swords, both edged with internal energy, collided head-on, and Jin Seongun and Seok Kang each retreated two steps apart.
Something is definitely wrong here.
Even though he was channeling far less energy into the blade, the force carried by each of his strikes exceeded his expectations.
By results alone, this was a good thing — the sword's peculiar nature was amplifying its power beyond what it should have been capable of.
But Jin Seongun could not shake a strange, nagging unease.
Chachachacha-chang—!
Their blades wove together again and again.
Beads of sweat began to form on Seok Kang's forehead.
Even as he swung his sword with his usual unhurried precision, Jin Seongun sank deeper and deeper into thought.
Does nobody else know?
Not a single person who had mentioned the swords of the Cheonghae Iron Pavilion had ever said they produced greater power than they should.
If that were true, it would have been an enormous selling point — a hallmark unique to the pavilion.
Even Chae Seoryeong had never said a word about it.
Then is this happening only to me?
His ordinary sword strikes had shown no such phenomenon.
It occurred only when he channeled Yeowol-gi into the blade.
And then it happened.
Swae-aek—!
Seok Kang hurled his full strength into a thrust, twisting his trajectory three times mid-motion to trace an utterly baffling path through the air.
Even Jin Seongun, who knew little of the martial world's history, recognized this technique.
Cloud Dragon Eight Forms.
The pride of the Kunlun Sect — a technique said to allow its master, once perfected, to change direction freely up to eight times while airborne.
One might ask what was so impressive about that, but if two masters launched themselves into the air at the same moment, the situation changed entirely.
Movement was inherently restricted in mid-air. But if only one side could alter course a full eight times, the advantage would tilt overwhelmingly in his favor.
Jin Seongun watched the Cloud Dragon Eight Forms with fascination for a moment before spinning his own footwork into motion.
Whee-ik—!
Seok Kang's sword shot in along a straight line — a startlingly abrupt, audaciously swift attack.
Jin Seongun pivoted in a smooth circle, letting the blade glance off his sleeve and slip harmlessly past.
Then his own sword came to a stop just short of Seok Kang's throat.
A clean victory.
After a brief silence, sighs and cheers erupted from every corner of the training ground.
Seok Kang gave an awkward smile, sheathed his sword, and bowed with cupped fists.
"I have learned a great deal today!"
"As have I."
Jin Seongun returned the greeting.
In any case, the Kunlun Taoists had employed sword techniques he had never seen before, and the sparring had been genuinely enjoyable.
Before long, he was sharing a meal with Seok Kang and a handful of other Taoists.
The fundamental problem was that Kunlun's food was… terrible.
"Haha, I'm afraid it doesn't taste like much. The ingredients we can get our hands on are rather limited, you see."
Seok Kang smiled sheepishly, then reached beneath the table and brought something up.
A bottle of wine.
At the sight of it, Jin Seongun's expression turned incredulous.
"Are you allowed to drink that?"
The unspoken question hung in the air: A Taoist, drinking?
At most, the young disciples of the Jongnam Sect sneaked drinks behind their elders' backs.
Though, granted, some — like Hyeon Un — drank quite openly.
Seok Kang let out a hearty laugh at Jin Seongun's question.
"The Kunlun Sect has no objection to wine. Truth be told, if we didn't have this, we'd drive ourselves mad."
"……"
It was a remarkably compelling reason.
And so Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong drank the wine that the Kunlun Taoists poured for them.
Surprisingly, it was rather good — fiercely bitter and astringent, yet precisely because of that, it carried a strange, addictive quality.
After drinking for some time, Chae Seoryeong suddenly spoke up.
"That thing you said earlier — about the children keep disappearing. What was that about?"
At once, Seok Kang and the other Taoists exchanged glances. It looked for a moment as though they were weighing something weighty between them — but in truth, they were poking each other in the ribs, each silently insisting, you answer her. Taoists, and Kunlun Taoists above all, were hopeless around women.
In the end, the youngest, Seokjin, opened his mouth.
"Just what it sounds like. Lately, children have been vanishing again and again — from Qinghai City and parts of Xinjiang. We're treating it as the work of the Demonic Cult for now, but no solid evidence has surfaced yet."
"The children — roughly how old are they?"
"As far as we've been able to determine……"
Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong fell silent for a moment.
The children were heartbreakingly young.
Chae Seoryeong in particular furrowed her brow and let out a long, deep sigh.
"If we see anyone suspicious, or anything strange, we'll look into it. The absolute scum of the earth — may heaven strike them down!"
Her anger was entirely genuine.
The suffering of adults was tragic enough, but the suffering of children cut far too deep.
Idle conversation flowed back and forth for a while — mostly about the state of the martial world, about the nature of Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong's relationship, and, inevitably, about martial arts.
"Ah — the sword. Keep it. Consider it a gift."
Seok Kang said it with a booming laugh: he meant to give Jin Seongun the Cloud Dragon Sword he had lent him for the sparring matches.
"Are you certain?"
Jin Seongun still remembered the look on Baek Sang's and Baek Seol's faces when Hyeon Un had confiscated their Taiji Sword.
The Wudang Sect's Taiji Sword, the Namgung clan's Cheoncheon Sword, the Mount Hua Sect's Plum Blossom Sword — weapons that embodied the identity of their sects carried profound meaning.
At Jin Seongun's question, the Taoists chuckled.
"The Cloud Dragon Sword is just an iron sword. Who knows when any of us will die, or when the blade will shatter? We don't attach much grand significance to a piece of steel with an expiry date."
"That's right. It's nothing more than a blade for killing men, after all."
The Taoists nodded along.
It was a revealing glimpse into how the disciples of Kunlun truly regarded the way of the martial arts.
"But, you see…"
Seok Kang smacked his lips briefly before broaching the subject.
Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong turned to look at him.
"Why did you really come to Qinghai?"
However clueless Seok Kang might be about romance and women, he had gathered that Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong were not, in fact, a couple.
Jin Seongun stared at him steadily.
Somehow, the air in the room grew strange.
The second-generation disciples of Kunlun and Chae Seoryeong all wore bewildered expressions.
After a beat of silence, Seok Kang continued.
"Don't misunderstand — I don't doubt either of you. You are the Guest Dragon, and the young lady the Guest Dragon brought with him. But as I said, Qinghai has been far too unsettled of late. And, decisively speaking—"
In an instant, Seok Kang's eyes sank low.
He was a completely different man from the one who had been chuckling and booming with laughter all this while.
It was the sharp gaze from that first day, walking the streets of Seonnyeong. With those eyes fixed squarely on Jin Seongun, he pressed on.
"Why do the two of you keep lying?"
At his words, the Kunlun Taoists quietly began to raise their presence, a subtle pressure filling the room.
Jin Seongun let out a small sigh and waved a hand lightly. The force bearing down on Chae Seoryeong washed away in an instant.
"What lies, exactly?"
"Oh, come now. You mentioned joint training when we first met, but… are the two of you truly in that kind of relationship?"
Seok Kang's suspicion was aimed squarely at Chae Seoryeong. Once he had caught wind that she had lied, the meaning of her crimson hair took on an entirely different cast in his mind.
"We traveled together. And we trained."
"Trained in what?"
"Lightfoot movement."
Jin Seongun answered without a flicker of hesitation.
Because it was the plain, unvarnished truth.
Seok Kang burst out laughing — a hollow, exasperated sort of laugh.
"Fine. Let's say that's true."
At heart, Seok Kang bore no real hostility toward Jin Seongun. The man had been unfailingly courteous, and the sparring he had shown was deeply impressive.
He simply believed that anything worth addressing was worth addressing plainly. It was something of a habit among the Kunlun Taoists, who were forever getting tangled up in one disaster after another.
"Why did you lie about your sword being broken?"
Seok Kang's tone was full of conviction.
Jin Seongun searched his memory for a moment, then exhaled a short sigh. Their first meeting flashed back to him.
"Are you a man of the martial world?"
"As you can see."
Jin Seongun had said that, gesturing to the sword at his hip — the Nokhwa Sword he had brought from Falling Fire Manor.
So Seok Kang remembered it.
Jin Seongun considered his options briefly. But frankly, he was tired of papering over the situation with more lies.
"It's a personal matter."
"……"
Seok Kang's expression turned dumbfounded. He had not expected an answer like that.
"If you keep this up, we'll have no choice but to suspect you, Guest Dragon."
"Then I suppose that can't be helped."
Jin Seongun nodded with perfect calm.
This was why lying never paid. To bury one small lie, you had to keep telling ever larger ones.
Seok Kang's eyes narrowed as he studied Jin Seongun. Jin Seongun did not look away.
"Young hero — honestly, I don't believe you are a bad man."
"And I think you're a good man yourself, Seok Kang."
Seok Kang let out another hollow laugh.
"Then tell me one thing. This personal matter you're pursuing — is there any problem with it, from the standpoint of the Kunlun Sect, or of the Orthodox Alliance as a whole?"
Jin Seongun nodded firmly.
If the Cheonghae Iron Pavilion truly was entangled with the Demonic Cult, the Orthodox world would raise both hands in welcome.
Seok Kang studied him in silence for a long moment, then spoke again, his voice somewhat softened.
"I'll trust you. In truth, we have neither the standing nor the reason to demand anything of you, however much we might suspect. But grant me just one thing."
"I'll take it to heart."
"This is Qinghai. Demonic agents you cannot see crawl the land like vermin. I ask you — please do nothing suspicious. This is not a warning. It is my hope. I've taken a liking to you, Guest Dragon."
Beside him, Chae Seoryeong let out a little "Oh my," her cheeks flushing pink — and Seok Kang's face immediately contorted in dismay.
"…That's not what I meant. I simply felt that we might become good friends someday. Take the Cloud Dragon Sword. It seems it's what you came for in the first place."
"Once my business is finished, I'll come see you again."
Before long, Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong rose from their seats.
The warmth of the gathering had cooled somewhat from its high point, but no ill will remained between them.
The two exchanged farewells with the Taoists and descended Mount Kunlun without delay.
Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong stood side by side in an isolated thicket, far from any human presence.
They had traveled a long way on lightfoot movement, and this spot lay a considerable distance from the Kunlun Sect.
Once he confirmed no one was around, Jin Seongun drew his sword.
Sreung—!
The snow-white blade caught the light and gleamed.
Chae Seoryeong studied the Cloud Dragon Sword for a long moment.
"…It is a handsome thing, I'll give you that."
She hated to admit it, but it looked better than anything Falling Fire Manor had forged of late.
And its sharpness and durability, of course, had been tested and proven by countless martial artists in the field.
Jin Seongun glared at the blade for a moment before speaking.
"I felt something strange the entire sparring match."
"What kind of strange?"
"Even the smallest trickle of energy produced more force than it should have."
Chae Seoryeong frowned.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"It didn't feel like the sword simply lending strength. If I had to put it into words — it felt like the energy was surging out of control, leaping in a direction I couldn't govern."
"Hmm…"
Chae Seoryeong nodded along with a grave expression — a fairly effective tactic for when she understood not a single word of what he was saying.
"Then just try it again."
"Good thinking."
Jin Seongun channeled energy into the blade.
Daji's Yeowol-gi — the Lingering Moon Qi.
A tender, benevolent current that caressed all things under heaven, much like her own gentle smile.
The pure white energy slowly filled the sword.
And Jin Seongun felt that alien sensation once more. But unlike during the match, he did not stop — he poured in an even fiercer surge of energy.
How much time passed like that?
The sword began to sing.
It was not the deep, resonant hum that arises when a blade and its master's energy simply resonate with one another.
The expressions of both Jin Seongun and Chae Seoryeong froze solid.
Because the sword-song of the Cheonghae Iron Pavilion's blade sounded exactly like a small child weeping in sorrow.