Mount Hua Sect (2)

"That man dared to insult the Sect Leader, Martial Uncle."

"Insulted him, you say?"

Even as he explained the situation to Pungyeon, the sect's First Disciple, who had come rushing out at the commotion, Mingi spared Soyul not so much as a glance, his glare still pinned on Cho Jaun. There were two reasons for it. First, as a Daoist, embarrassment kept him from looking squarely at Soyul's bewitching outfit and alluring figure. Second, he had decided that a 'courtesan' must have been brought along by Cho Jaun in the first place, and so there was no grounds for finding fault with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her.

"He... he dared... he said he would bring that courtesan here and offer her up to the Sect Leader."

Words were bound to warp a little with each retelling, but the feeling of watching one's own words twist beyond all recognition right before one's eyes was easy enough to imagine. Placed in exactly that situation, Cho Jaun shook his head.

"I never said any such thing."

"I... I heard it plainly with these two ears of mine, and now you make excuses?"

"I said I would introduce her. When did I ever say I would offer her?"

"Isn't one the same as the other!"

Watching the two of them bicker back and forth, Pungyeon, unable to follow, addressed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Cho Jaun.

"But who might you be, that you must introduce a courtesan to the Sect Leader?"

"I am Cho... Jaun of the Jinsong Sect."

Chafing at the frustrating situation, Cho Jaun had been on the verge of revealing his identity, but quickly thought better of it. If he blurted out here that he was the Jinsong Sword Emperor, how badly would it startle Soyul? She hadn't known, granted — but he wondered how heavy a burden it would leave on the child to have casually crossed a Hwagyeong master. And he also had no wish to become awkward with the friend he had only just rediscovered after so many years. Whether Soyul would see it that way, of course, he couldn't say.

"And that young lady is no courtesan. She has inherited Mount Hua's true transmission, so even from Mount Hua's own standpoint, she can hardly be called an outsider."

"What kind of ridiculous nonsense is th—"

"Mingi, calm your heart. Since when does a Daoist let his feelings spill out so carelessly?"

"...My apologies, Martial Uncle."

Cut off mid-sentence yet again, Mingi retreated a step at Pungyeon's dignified command and bowed his head.

"I understand now that the young lady is no courtesan. Our sect's disciple judged everything by appearances alone, his training far too shallow — I am too ashamed to lift my head. I beg you to look past it with your generous magnanimity, Young Hero Cho."

After all, Cho Jaun himself had staged a scene misleading enough that anyone, even some Daoist from outside Mount Hua, would have been fooled, and so he nodded.

"I understand."

"But I find it difficult to believe that she inherited Mount Hua's true transmission."

"Rather than take my word for it, seeing for yourself would be better. Young Lady Kang."

Soyul, who had been quietly observing the two of them, was about to play dumb at Cho Jaun's glance — Hm? What is it? — but catching the flicker of earnest pleading and weariness that crossed his face, she simply unfurled the Bamboo Leaf Hand without a word. At the sight of a verdant aura gathering about her right hand like a living blade of grass, Pungyeon let out a low gasp of admiration.

"Ooh... the Bamboo Leaf Hand. How does she come to know the Bamboo Leaf Hand...?"

"It seems fate brought her together with a great master of Mount Hua's previous generation."

"Might I ask that master's honored name?"

To this question, Soyul answered herself.

"My master said they had forgotten their own name so long ago that I never learned their honored title. But theirs was a deep and mighty energy — someone who always carried an air of transcendence about them."

"Oh. Then don't tell me...?"

Of course, no such person existed, but the Mount Hua disciples seemed to have someone come to mind, and began whispering among themselves. Before long, Pungyeon composed his expression, smiled benevolently, and gestured to Soyul and Cho Jaun.

"Dear me — to leave the one who inherited our sect's true transmission, and the one who guided her here, standing outside like this. The lapse is mine. Please, come inside at once. And Mingi."

"Y-yes!"

Pungyeon's tone had been endlessly gentle at first, but the moment he called Mingi's Daoist name, weight and solemnity entered his voice. Mingi, his face burning with shame at how completely things had strayed from his expectations, answered in a hurry.

"Judging a person by outward appearance alone, and so carelessly branding the young lady who inherited our sect's true transmission a courtesan — what have you to say for yourself?"

At the stinging rebuke of his own shallowness, Mingi bowed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his head without protest. In fairness, seeing someone dressed in a courtesan's clothes and taking them for a courtesan could hardly be called a mistake. But for a Daoist, seeing through appearances to the essence beneath them was the most fundamental training of all. That was why Mingi owned to his fault.

"The failing is mine, Martial Uncle. I will apologize to our guests."

And though his face was full of shame, Mingi stepped forward with utmost courtesy, bowing his head to Soyul and Cho Jaun in turn, fists cupped in salute.

"My training fell short, and I committed a grave discourtesy against you. I beg your forgiveness. I am sorry."

To the brief but heartfelt apology, Cho Jaun nodded. In truth, the bigger fault belonged to Soyul, who had walked in wearing that getup. And he himself carried a small share of blame as well, for demanding to introduce her to the Sect Leader without a word of proper explanation. Soyul, for her part, held no ill will toward Mingi at all — the man had put on quite the entertaining show, after all — so she nodded along with a smile of her own.

"Sect Leader. Your guests have arrived."

"Show them in."

The residence of Mount Hua's Sect Leader, where Pungyeon escorted Soyul and Cho Jaun, was imbued with a tidiness free of any excess — not a single tile or stone pillar carried a trace of clutter — and a pure, elegant scent of plum blossoms seemed to drift subtly through the air on all sides.

"Come in, come in. What business brings you all this way to see this Daoist... hm?"

Cheonghyeon, seventeenth Sect Leader of the Mount Hua Sect and the White Cloud Sword Emperor, was welcoming his guests warmly when his eyes flew wide open.

"Wait, you're—"

The instant Cheonghyeon recognized Cho Jaun's face, an urgent voice transmission pierced his ear.

At the inscrutable request of a friend met after so long, Cheonghyeon cocked his head — but only for a moment. What did any of that matter?

"Ah, Young Hero Cho Jaun of the Jinsong Sect. It has been far too long."

"It is an honor to meet you, Sect Leader."

Watching Cho Jaun dip into a respectful bow, Cheonghyeon broke into a bright smile. An old friend had come to see him after all these years — what did his circumstances matter? With a nod, he turned his gaze to Soyul.

"Oh ho. What rare martial talent this is. From the brilliant light in your eyes and your unshakable spirit, young lady, I can see once more that the future of this murim shines very bright indeed. Might I ask your name?"

"Ah, I am called Kang Soyul, Sect Leader."

The White Cloud Sword Emperor Cheonghyeon wore a face far too young to belong to Mount Hua's Sect Leader. Soyul, who for a moment there had pictured a grandfather with a long beard, was briefly thrown off, but she quickly composed herself and offered a courteous greeting. She had realized that this man, too, was a Hwagyeong master — her equal in rank, or perhaps a single step above her.

Standing face to face with a master of her own caliber for the first time, the swordsman's instinct stirred deep within her chest, and the urge to cross blades with him surged upward. But that was a wish for another day. If she ever did end up crossing swords with this man, it would be long after she had returned to being a man and stood at the vanguard of the Heavenly Demon Cult to strike against the orthodox sects. Whether or not he sensed any of this, Cheonghyeon, having swept his gaze over every thread of Soyul's aura, nodded in satisfaction.

"A pleasure to meet you, Young Lady Kang. Now then, what brings you to seek out this Daoist...?"

Cho Jaun stepped in quickly.

"Sect Leader. Young Lady Kang has inherited Mount Hua's true transmission. She trained under a great master of Mount Hua's previous generation, which means she carries a bond with your sect. However, she currently has nowhere to rest her head, and we have come to ask that you take her circumstances into consideration."

Cheonghyeon's face lit up at his friend's exceedingly courteous words.

"Oh ho, is that so? This master of the previous generation — which one might you speak of?"

"Ah, I never had the chance to learn their name..."

As Soyul deflected, Pungyeon, who had been standing quietly to the side, remarked casually to the Sect Leader.

"From what the young lady says, could it be Martial Uncle Domyeong? Kind and overflowing with noble bearing — who else could it be?"

"Oh my. Of course. It has already been more than twenty years since Martial Uncle Domyeong left Mount Hua to save the suffering common folk. It could be no one else."

In fairness, Domyeong was the only master of the previous generation ever to have left Mount Hua, so they were simply bending the facts until they fit. And Pungyeon could hardly have thought otherwise, for he had seen the Bamboo Leaf Hand Soyul unfurled with his own two eyes. Among the previous generation's masters qualified to teach it, Domyeong had been the only one to leave the sect.

"Hahaha. What a great blessing this is for Mount Hua. Then Young Lady Kang is in no way an outsider to our sect."

With matters flowing so smoothly, Cho Jaun's expression brightened as well. He had trusted that his friend Cheonghyeon would take her in without question, and yet some sliver of doubt had remained all the same.

"By the way, Young Lady Kang — which of Mount Hua's martial arts have you mastered?"

"Ah, the Bamboo Lea—"

When the Sect Leader, who had never witnessed the Bamboo Leaf Hand, asked, Pungyeon moved to answer naturally in his stead — only to be cut off by Soyul's next words.

"I learned the Bamboo Leaf Hand and the White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art."

The instant Soyul finished her proud announcement, a silence like a sudden freeze swept through the hall.

"...What did you just say?"

"Hm?"

At the sight of the two Mount Hua Daoists staring wide-eyed and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠echoing the words White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art, Soyul faltered. She stole a glance at Cho Jaun, but he looked just as baffled, apparently having no idea why they were reacting this way.

'Ah, right — Jaun doesn't know I learned the White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art. But what's with them? Isn't the White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art a Mount Hua art? Master definitely said it was...'

But there was no taking back words already out of her mouth. Soyul, warily reading the two Daoists' faces, repeated herself.

"The Bamboo Leaf Hand... and the White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art..."

Thud.

The moment the same words burst from Soyul's lips a second time, the Sect Leader's legs seemed to give out beneath him, and he sank straight down to the floor. Pungyeon's eyes had gone round as saucers, his lips quivering and his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Is... is that the truth?"

Cheonghyeon's voice had somehow gone wet and was trembling, and the tears welling at the corners of his eyes were already streaming down in rivulets.

"O Ancestors! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Heh... heheh... heheheh."

Watching Pungyeon, so overwhelmed he could barely string a sentence together, and Sect Leader Cheonghyeon, who had crumpled where he sat, Soyul asked cautiously.

"What's gotten into you two?"

"Heheh... the White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art... the White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art..."

"It has come home to Mount Hua. At last..."

The two Daoists paid Soyul's question no mind whatsoever, tears pouring down their faces. Soyul couldn't make sense of it, but Cho Jaun understood exactly what was happening. The White Stream Plum Blossom Sword Art that Kang Soyul had learned was a sword art long lost to Mount Hua.

"Heheh... well, I never."

How could he fail to understand that feeling? Cho Jaun murmured under his breath, his own heart a tangle.

"Um, excuse me? Sect Leader? Er... and who were you again, Daoist sir?"

Soyul wore a thoroughly baffled expression as she watched the Daoists suddenly weeping, but in the eyes of the old Daoists who had devoted everything to Mount Hua, tears of joy would not stop flowing.