2. Taeul

The moment Yul Soyul slipped out of the hut and her master vanished from sight, she flung herself toward the eastern sky, lightness skill at full power.

CRACK—

Every footfall caved in the earth as though a thunderbolt had struck it. Thus Yul Soyul ran, folding space itself, hundreds of feet vanishing with each stride.

Who knows what Master will tell the Cult Leader, but a pursuit squad is bound to be formed.

With the pursuit squad in mind, she raced over mountains and across rivers for three full days and nights without rest. When her steps finally halted on the third day, an enormous, nameless mountain rose before her. From then on, she moved on quiet feet.

No lightness skill while moving through the mountains — that makes me that much harder to track.

Yul Soyul headed deeper into the range, where darkness arrived faster. As night fell, she took her time drawing a bedroll from her pack, spread it on the ground, and pulled out a strip of dried meat to chew.

Munch, munch.

The night was black, but martial arts honed to her realm let her see her surroundings as plainly as broad daylight, and a body impervious to cold and heat felt no chill.

"Hmmm. Who am I even supposed to go find? Profound Realm, my ass."

Climbing to the Profound Realm to recover her male body seemed impossible, however she turned it over in her mind. Even granting, a hundred times over, that it could be done, there was no telling how long it would take.

"Ugh."

A violent headache struck without warning, and Yul Soyul clutched her head. Something about her body felt alien — and with it, countless memories surged up all at once: memories of martial arts, memories of herself.

"A side effect of turning into a woman? Damn it. Why now, all of a sudden?"

Even Yul Soyul, long inured to pain, was left moaning where she lay — the headache lasted a full quarter of an hour.

"Hooo..."

When the pain finally ebbed, she shook her head. Her whole body was soaked with sweat, as though she had been caught in the rain. Watching her hands tremble, Yul Soyul clenched them into fists.

"A gap between body and mind, huh? At this rate, even when I unleash my arts, I doubt I'll fight at my true level."

It stood to reason. Every technique Yul Soyul had mastered over the years had been calibrated to a man's body — to the length of his arms, the length of his legs, the bulk of his muscle.

And now? Everything had changed. Her center of gravity, the length of her limbs — all of it.

Against a martial artist beneath her, such details could be ignored; she would win anyway. Against an equal, it meant certain defeat.

What she needed, then, was training.

"Oh, there's a cave here too."

Before reaching the summit, Yul Soyul came upon a cave that bore no trace of human touch. She ran a hand over the rock at its mouth, carried her gear inside, and unpacked.

First order of business: rebuilding her martial arts for this body.

"First, the Heavenly Gang Blood Dragon Sword Art. From the top."

Sword in hand, Yul Soyul assumed a peculiar opening stance: both hands on the hilt, the grip angled toward her left breast, the slanted blade resting against her right flank.

A stance that at a glance might be mistaken for a reverse grip — such was the beginning of the Heavenly Gang Blood Dragon Sword Art, one of the proudest supreme sword arts of the Demonic Cult.

One step.

KWAAAANG—

Her left foot drove off the ground at a speed the eye could not follow, and in the same breath a monstrous slash of gang qi swept out. Every tree within a hundred feet of Yul Soyul came crashing down.

It was the very picture of unrivaled, overwhelming force.

Vwooo—

With every form she unleashed, the sword in Yul Soyul's hand wailed as though it had a will of its own.

RUMBLE— CRACK—

Before long the fallen giants had been shredded into mere splinters. Yul Soyul kicked off the earth and rose into the air, sweeping her sword down toward the ground with a clear, ringing cry.

"Heavenly Gang Blood Dragon Annihilation!"

BOOOOM—!

Tap.

Landing, Yul Soyul slowly surveyed her surroundings. "Ruins" was the only word that fit the scene.

The once-silent mountain looked as though an earthquake had struck ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it; not a patch of ground remained whole. Trees that had held their place for decades, never touched by so much as a woodcutter's foot, lay toppled and shattered.

Gazing blankly at the devastation she had wrought, Yul Soyul muttered, her expression sour.

"This isn't right..."

She looked down at the hand gripping her sword.

Clean hands without a single callus — snow-white, as though they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had never once seen the sun.

The kind of hands that brought the old phrase slender fingers of white jade to mind unbidden.

Yet in her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own memory, Yul Soyul's hands had been a swordsman's hands — dark, scarred, and thick with callus.

"Damn it. Fifty percent, if I'm lucky?"

Watching techniques emerge with barely half their original force, she could only curse this weakened body of hers.

Grrrowl—

The sound from her belly, arriving right on cue, crumpled her face all the further. Though even that scowl, of course, belonged to a peerless beauty.

Night fell faster still on the mountain where Yul Soyul had settled.

What set this evening apart from the ones before was the savory smell of roasting meat. Yul Soyul's eyes were locked on the rabbit skewered on a green stick, browning to a golden crisp over the flames.

No mere mountain beast could read her presence, so the hunt could hardly be called work. She had simply approached with her aura suppressed and thrown the dagger she'd brought along, and that was that. At a stream a little way from the cave she had skinned the rabbit and cleaned out the entrails — and honestly, the cleaning was the most tedious part.

"Done yet?"

She prodded the rabbit with the skewer, and it slid in without the slightest resistance. Carefully tearing off a leg and bringing it to her mouth, Yul Soyul chewed.

"Mm. Tasty."

That she kept up a running monologue even deep in these mountains was, without her realizing it, a defense of her own making — a way to soothe the loneliness of being alone.

"What should I run through tomorrow?"

After that, time flowed like a river for Yul Soyul in her cave.

Holed up in the cave near the summit, she drilled her martial arts by day and hunted in the evenings. On bright moonlit nights she sometimes pillowed her head on the worn bedroll and gazed blankly at the night sky — and found it surprisingly pleasant.

So a year went by, and in that year her martial arts saw both the progress she had expected and progress she had not.

The expected: within a single year she had regained free command of every technique she had once performed with a man's body. The unexpected was the manifestation of an entirely different energy.

By common understanding, internal energy gathers in the dantian and manifests outward from there. Yet the more Yul Soyul exercised her arts, the more she felt an unknown energy stirring in her heart.

It was unlike any internal energy she had ever known — and yet more auspicious and gentle than internal energy itself.

Whenever her internal energy surged up from her dantian during training, the energy born in her heart would quietly seep into the flow, as though asking to be included.

And though the amount was tiny, its benefits overflowed. Vitality returned to her body of its own accord, and the more she practiced, the more the energy welled up. Her curiosity piqued by the new phenomenon, Yul Soyul tried to bring the heart's energy under her control, but it would not come easily.

"Well, no hurry. If it doesn't work, so be it."

Having spent herself on her open-air training ground, unleashing one technique after another with her whole body, Yul Soyul turned to walk back to the cave.

No — she tried to. She had no choice but to stop dead where she stood, for an unfamiliar voice had sounded at her back.

"So this is where you were."

"......"

She turned slowly. She had sensed no presence whatsoever, yet there he stood — an old man with the bearing of an immortal, who had somehow claimed the space behind her.

"Ah. I see I gave you quite a start. My apologies. I had no wish to disturb your training."

That a person had appeared at the summit of this mountain startled Yul Soyul to her core. She took a moment to steady her heart, then collected herself and offered a respectful cupped-fist salute.

For one raised in the Demonic Cult, where only the fittest survived, it was the natural response. One does not treat carelessly a master capable of taking you from behind.

"Greetings. My name is Yul Soyul."

The old man, who had been watching her quietly, returned the salute.

"I am called Taeul."

"Ah — Elder Taeul. Might you have come from the Cult?"

"The Cult? Ah, you mean the Demonic Cult. No, I did not."

Come to think of it, if he had come from the Cult, he wouldn't have struck up a conversation — he'd have taken my head the moment he got behind me. A relief, that.

"I see."

"Just so."

An awkward silence settled over the clearing. Yul Soyul spent a moment wondering how to break it, then let out a small gasp.

"Oh."

"What is it?"

"Elder, when you saw me just now, you said, 'So this is where you were.' Did you come looking for me, knowing who I am?"

The old man smiled warmly. At that moment his face was, strangely, like a child's, and a youth's, and an old man's all at once. When Yul Soyul tilted her head at the sight, he nodded.

"I did."

"Ah... um... forgive me, Elder, but I have no memory of you."

"Perfectly natural. You and I became acquainted a very long time ago. So very long ago that you could not remember it."

"I see."

Without quite knowing why, Yul Soyul found herself certain the old man spoke no falsehood, and nodded. Trust him she could not — but this unfathomable elder, a master a rank above even herself, one who had reached the Transformation Realm, had shown no intention of harming her thus far.

She wondered for a moment what on earth one says to such a person, and what came out was a cliché — but the kind no one ever turns down.

"Have you eaten?"

"Here — try it. It's quite good."

Yul Soyul tore a large leg from a well-roasted deer and offered it to the old man.

"My thanks."

The old man accepted the venison and took a bite, and Yul Soyul cut a piece of meat for herself as well.

It was inside a cave, true, but a fire burned there, and straw and dry leaves had been spread with meticulous care, making it quite comfortable. For a while the two of them spoke not a word, devoting themselves entirely to filling their bellies.

It was the old man, Taeul, who spoke first.

"Are you not curious who I am, or what business brought me to you?"

With meat in her mouth, Yul Soyul could not answer at once; she covered her lips, swallowed slowly, and only then replied.

"I am curious."

"And yet you ask nothing?"

"I thought that when you were ready, Elder, you would tell me of your own accord."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Watching her answer so respectfully, the old man smiled faintly.

"That meeting you is always a pleasure. Did you know that?"

"Hm... I am glad — and grateful — that you think so."

"I sought you out today to give you a measure of help."

"Oh — thank you."

"Heh heh. A man kindly offers you help, and you do not even ask what it is? You will make me feel quite foolish."

"Ah, forgive me. I am unused to dealing with people, so I have been rude. What is it?"

Her social graces were, frankly, at a worrying level — yet the smile never left the old man's lips.

He might have been looking at a granddaughter. He might have been looking at an old friend of many years.

"From what I read of the heavens, if things go on as they are, the ones hunting you will lay hands on you before long."

"You mean the Cult?"

"I do. But the time is not yet ripe. And so I shall give you a treasure — one that will make your trail hard to follow, if only for a few years."

With that, the old man drew a small ring from his robes and pressed it into Yul Soyul's hand. White as the first snow and gleaming smooth, it was made of something she could not begin to guess.

"Go on, try it on."

"It seems a bit large... Huh?"

The moment she slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand, the ring — a little loose a heartbeat before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— wondrously shrank to fit her finger exactly.

"Oh?"