Leaving the Mountain
Even after Cheongyu and Myeongho departed, the village remained unsettled for some time. Life in a mountain hamlet followed a predictable rhythm. People went to the fields at sunrise and returned home at sunset. They cursed the sky when it rained and the earth when drought struck. When winter came, they worried about firewood. The stories villagers told were usually the same: whose chickens had laid how many eggs, which field the wild boar had raided again, whose child had broken a jar, or how Jo had tripped over his own feet after drinking and blamed the stone anyway. Ordinary, trivial tales.
But this time was different. The bandits hidden in the mountains had attacked the Cheongseong Sect disciples, and a silver-haired girl named Jin Seoryeong had slaughtered them all by herself. That story refused to fade from anyone’s lips.
At first, no one believed it. Strange child or not, fighting beasts was not the same as killing people. Yet Cheongyu and Myeongho had confirmed it themselves. These were no ordinary thieves. Several had cultivated martial arts, used poison, and preyed on merchant caravans and herb gatherers. A fifteen-year-old girl with silver hair had wiped them out alone.
The news left the villagers with a tangle of feelings: gratitude, fear, relief, and an unnameable distance.
“If not for Seoryeong, our village might have been in danger too.”
Everyone nodded when someone said that. It was true. If the bandits had stayed hidden, they might eventually have come down to the village. Seoryeong had saved them. But then a quieter voice added, “Still… she killed nine people.”
Silence followed. The words were not wrong. They had lived because of it, yet it was terrifying all the same.
The villagers had watched Seoryeong since she was small. The child who ran into the mountains with a wooden stick. The child whose eyes lit up at the sight of a wild boar instead of fleeing. The child who smiled even when her palms were bloody. That same child had returned after killing people. Stranger still, she had not changed. The girl who had taken lives still ate her meals the next day, climbed the mountain, accepted rice cakes from other children, fed dried meat to the fox, and swung her spear in the yard until her mother scolded her. She was exactly the same, and that made it all the more unsettling.
The children watched her from a distance.
“Did she really kill bandits?”
“My brother said she was covered in blood.”
“Heard a head flew off.”
“That’s probably a lie.”
“No, my dad saw it.”
“What if Seoryeong hears us?”
The child who said that suddenly clamped a hand over their mouth. Seoryeong was walking down the path toward them, carrying a small basket at her waist and an old spear in her hand. Her face was as indifferent as ever. The iron tip of the spear was clean but heavily nicked. The children instinctively stepped aside.
Seoryeong tilted her head. “Why are you moving?”
None of them answered. Finally, the youngest one held out a rice cake they had been carrying. “Want… this?”
Seoryeong looked at the warm, steaming cake, accepted it, and took a bite. It was chewy and sweet. “Tastes good.”
The child’s face brightened a little. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
Seoryeong chewed and started walking again. One of the children asked carefully, “Seoryeong noona.”
“What.”
“When you killed the bandits… weren’t you scared?”
Seoryeong stopped. She thought for a moment. There had been the feeling that she might die. Poison needles had flown past, blades had grazed her skin, and if she had been even a little slower her stomach might have been split open. Yet that sensation had been different from fear. Her body had grown hot. Her vision had sharpened. She could see where her opponent’s feet would move, feel the tremor in their wrists, and notice the moment their breathing faltered. The closer death came, the lighter her body felt. It was not fear. For Seoryeong, it was a good feeling.
So she answered honestly. “It was fun.”
The children’s faces went pale. Seoryeong tilted her head again. “Why?”
No one answered. She walked away, brushing the crumbs from her fingers. Behind her, the children whispered.
“She really is weird.”
“Scary.”
“But she looked like a normal idiot when she was eating the rice cake.”
“Shh.”
Seoryeong heard everything, but she did not care. People had called her strange for a long time. They had called her scary too. Yet someone had still given her a rice cake. That was enough.
She returned home. In the yard, her father was splitting firewood. Thud. Thud. Each swing of the axe split a thick log cleanly in two. When he saw her, he stopped.
“Went up the mountain again?”
“Yeah.”
“Rest a bit.”
“Not tired.”
“Whether you’re tired or not isn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“Your mother is tired.”
Seoryeong blinked. Her father sighed and set the axe down. “Every time you go outside, your mother’s heart drops worrying you’ll get into another fight with someone.”
“I won’t die.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
“It’s true though.”
“The fact that it’s true is the problem.”
Seoryeong did not understand. She had said she would not die, so why could he not believe her? She had no intention of dying. She only wanted to fight. If she happened to die while fighting someone strong, then so be it. But she knew saying that would only frustrate her father more, so she stayed quiet.
He studied his daughter. Silver hair. Red eyes. Slender but sturdy hands. She had been a strange child from the moment she was born. He still remembered the midwife falling silent when she first held the baby. Silver hair and red eyes. The village elders had whispered that a monster had been born, that the child was unlucky. To him, she had simply been his daughter. A little odd, a little quiet, and very fond of spears. Now, sometimes, he wondered if he could still see her that way after she had killed nine bandits and returned home eating rice cakes as if nothing had happened.
He asked quietly, “Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you all right after killing those people?”
It was the same question again. She had been asked if she regretted it and if she had been scared. Now it was whether she was all right. The words were slightly different, but they all seemed to poke at the same place.
Seoryeong looked down at her hands. “I don’t really know.”
“……”
“But if the same thing happened again, I think I’d kill them.”
Her father’s face hardened. Seoryeong continued, “If I didn’t, I would have died. Or Cheongyu and Myeongho would have.”
He could not answer. It was true. That made it all the more complicated. He wished she would cry. He wished she would say she had been scared or that she never wanted to do it again. Then he might have been able to hold on to her. But Seoryeong did not. She said she liked fighting. She said she liked clashing with strong opponents. She never said she liked killing, but she accepted that death could follow a fight as if it were natural. That terrified him.
He gripped the axe handle tightly and let it go. “You always cause trouble.”
“Why?”
“Because there are plenty of people in this world who don’t like children like you.”
“What did I do?”
“The fact that you ask that is the problem.”
Seoryeong understood even less. She wanted to fight strong people. She liked fighting. She liked clashing head-on. Was that so wrong? She had no desire to torment the weak on purpose. She did not want to chase down people who ran away. She simply liked strong opponents. Opponents whose reach nearly matched her own spear. Opponents who could kill her with a single mistake. When she faced them, her body felt clearest. If that was a problem, then perhaps it was. But she still did not fully grasp it.
Then her mother opened the door. “Come eat.”
Seoryeong turned her head immediately. Food was important. Especially on days with meat. Today there was wild rabbit. Her red eyes sparkled faintly. Her mother saw the reaction and chuckled. It was strangely similar to the look she got when talking about fighting. What a peculiar daughter.
Meal time began quietly. Barley rice. Soybean paste soup. Mountain vegetables. And wild rabbit meat. Seoryeong sat properly and ate. Her pace was not fast, but she never stopped. Her cheeks puffed out slightly. It was hard to imagine this was the face of someone who had killed nine bandits.
Her father cleared his throat. “Eat slowly.”
“Hungry.”
“No one’s going to steal it.”
“You never know.”
Her mother could not hold back a laugh. “Who would steal your meat?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “If they were strong, they might.”
Her father choked on his soup. Her mother pressed a hand to her forehead, laughing. “Even while eating, you’re thinking about strong people?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“What are you so curious about?”
Seoryeong paused with her chopsticks holding a piece of meat. “How strong would someone have to be to take what’s mine?”
Her father was speechless. Her mother sighed. Seoryeong put the meat in her mouth. It was delicious. For a little while, meat mattered more than strong people.
Then, in the middle of the meal, Seoryeong suddenly asked, “Is the Cheongseong Sect strong?”
The air around the table froze. Both parents looked at her at once.
“Why are you asking that?” her mother asked carefully.
“Cheongyu was strong.”
“……”
“But she said there are plenty of people stronger than her.”
Seoryeong set down her piece of meat. “If I go to the Cheongseong Sect, will there be a lot of strong people?”
Her father closed his eyes. The look on his face said that the moment he had feared had finally arrived. Her mother wore the same expression. They had known this day would come. Someday their daughter would grow curious about the world below the mountain. The world of Murim. The place where strong people gathered. The place where blood, grudges, sects, and swords crossed paths. To Seoryeong, that world would not be frightening. It would be fascinating.
Her mother asked quietly, “Do you want to go to Murim?”
Seoryeong did not hesitate. “Yeah.”
It was a short answer, but the feeling behind it was vivid. Expectation. Excitement. Longing. A racing heart. She could not hide it.
“You said there are a lot of strong people there.”
Her mother set down her chopsticks. She had expected that reason, yet hearing it still made her chest sink. It was not money. Not fame. Not revenge. Not the righteousness of the orthodox sects. Just strong people. Fighting. That was all.
Her father was silent for a long time. Then he said quietly, “Murim is dangerous.”
“Sounds good.”
“It is not good.”
“Why?”
Her father was momentarily speechless. To Seoryeong, danger was not a reason to avoid something. It was a reason to be drawn to it. That was the problem.
Her mother spoke instead. “A lot of people die there.”
“People die in the mountains too.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
Her mother could not answer right away. Dying to a beast in the mountains and dying to a person in Murim were different. Obviously different. But explaining that difference to Seoryeong was difficult. To her, death was death. Blood was blood. Fighting was fighting. If the opponent was strong, she would only be more drawn to them.
Her mother wanted to hold her daughter back, but she did not know what to use to keep her. Family? Seoryeong did not dislike her family. She even liked them. She grew flustered when her mother cried, brought herbs when her father was injured, and helped the village children even when she found it bothersome. But would that be enough to bind her? Her mother could not be sure. Seoryeong’s eyes were already looking far beyond the village, even while she still lived in it.
The meal ended awkwardly. Seoryeong cleaned her bowl completely and left no meat behind. Her mother cleared the dishes as usual, though her movements were slower than normal. Her father went outside without a word. Seoryeong followed him. Her spear leaned against the yard wall. The sight of it made her body itch. Ever since the fight with the bandits, the feeling had grown stronger. The sensation of blades flying toward her, the weight of axes coming down, the chill of poison needles grazing past, and the impact of clashing head-on with the scarred man. All of it still stirred inside her body.
Seoryeong picked up the spear and stood in the middle of the yard. Her toes pressed into the dirt. She exhaled slowly. The spear tip moved.
Whoosh!
Air split. She twisted her body at once, thrusting, pulling, twisting, and sweeping. It was not ordinary spear technique. It was strange to even call it spear technique, since no one had ever taught her. Yet her body knew. How to trip an opponent. How to entangle and yank their weapon. How to crush them the moment their center collapsed. If a thrust was blocked, she cut. If a cut was blocked, she pushed. If pushing met resistance, she broke their stance from below.
She moved faster and faster. The spear shaft carved circles through the air. Whoosh! She liked the sound. But it was still not enough. She needed a heavier sound. Not just cutting air, but crushing it. The sound of earth splitting, bones shattering, armor crumpling. The weapon from her dreams had been like that. A spear that was not a spear. Something like an axe, a blade, a hook. One swing, and no one even thought of blocking. Seoryeong recalled that weapon and raised her spear high before bringing it down.
BOOM!
Dirt flew up. A deep gouge appeared in the yard. Then a cold voice came from behind her.
“Jin Seoryeong.”
Her body froze. She turned slowly. Her mother stood in the doorway, her expression terrifying. More frightening than any bandit.
“Did you dig it up again?”
“A little.”
“That is not a little!”
Her mother finally shouted. Her father, who had been watching blankly, quietly backed away. He did not want to get involved and end up scolded too.
Seoryeong stood quietly with her spear. Her mother sighed deeply as she looked at the marks in the yard. “Your father will have to fill it in again.”
“I’ll fill it.”
“If you fill it, you’ll just dig it up again.”
“Not this time.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. There was a high chance she would start swinging the spear again while filling the hole. So she said nothing.
Her mother pressed a hand to her forehead. “You really are…”
At that moment, the sound of hooves echoed from far away.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
Seoryeong’s eyes changed instantly. Her body reacted first. Her heart pounded. Strong person? Murim warrior? New fight?
The villagers heard it too and began stepping outside. Horses rarely entered a mountain village, and several at once was even rarer.
Soon, three horses entered the village. Two martial artists on black horses. And in the middle, a woman in red robes. Long black hair. Sharp eyes. A sword at her waist. To the eye, she was merely a young woman. But the moment Seoryeong saw her, she knew. She was strong. Much stronger than Cheongyu. Stronger than anyone she had ever seen. Even while hiding it, the power was palpable. Her presence did not extend like a blade. It was quiet. So quiet that it felt more dangerous. Like a flame submerged deep underwater. Calm on the surface, but certain to burn you to death if you got too close.
Seoryeong’s heart pounded hard. Thump. Thump. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
The woman in red spotted Seoryeong and met her gaze. Her eyebrow twitched for a brief moment.
“Silver hair,” one of the martial artists said quietly. “Saja, that’s the child.”
“The monster Cheongyu mentioned?”
At the word “monster,” the villagers flinched. Her mother’s face hardened. Her father pressed his lips together. But Seoryeong showed no reaction. She was more curious about how strong the woman was than about being called a monster.
Seoryeong took a step forward. “Are you strong?”
The village atmosphere froze instantly. Her father closed his eyes. Her mother pressed a hand to her forehead. Here we go again.
The woman in red stared at Seoryeong for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Haha.” It was short but refreshing. “Is that your first question?”
“It’s important.”
“Why?”
“If you’re not strong, it won’t be fun.”
One of the martial artists behind her frowned. “How rude.” He stepped forward, but the woman in red raised a hand slightly. “It’s fine.”
She dismounted lightly. Thud. Even her landing made almost no sound. The moment Seoryeong saw that movement, goosebumps rose across her entire body. Fast. No, light. She had not used any visible force, yet there were no openings. Seoryeong instinctively adjusted her grip on the spear.
The woman saw it and smiled. “Good reaction.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. “Want to fight?”
“I’m not fighting you.”
The answer came too quickly. Seoryeong’s expression visibly soured. “Why.”
“Because I didn’t come here to kill you.”
“Then don’t die.”
“I won’t die.” The woman laughed. “The problem is you dying.”
The villagers held their breath. But Seoryeong’s reaction was strange. Instead of being afraid, her eyes grew even brighter. “That much of a difference?”
The woman was silent for a moment. There was no bravado in the question. No pride. She was asking sincerely. How strong was this woman really? How long could Seoryeong last if she attacked now? That was the face of someone genuinely curious.
The woman nodded. “Right now, you wouldn’t even block my sword once properly before dying.”
Seoryeong’s heart pounded violently. She was not scared. She was excited. There really were people this strong in the world. Just knowing that made her breath hot.
The woman saw Seoryeong’s expression and clicked her tongue inwardly. ‘She really is one.’ She had thought Cheongyu was exaggerating. A monstrous child in a mountain village who killed nine bandits without any training. Who did not cry after killing people. Who smiled instead of running when she saw someone strong. Honestly, it had been hard to believe. But seeing her in person, she understood. Cheongyu had not exaggerated. She had understated it. This child was dangerous. She was not an unrefined blade that could simply be sheathed. She was an ember. Small now, but one that could burn down a mountain if the wind caught her.
The woman looked down at Seoryeong’s spear. Rusty iron tip. Poorly tied shaft. Bad balance and light weight. “You killed the bandits with that?”
“Yeah.”
“Shoddy weapon.”
“I know.”
Seoryeong answered honestly. The woman liked that. She did not stubbornly insist out of pride. She knew her own shortcomings. Yet she was not afraid. That made her even more dangerous.
“But I heard your movements were interesting.”
“Who said that?”
“Cheongyu.”
Seoryeong’s eyes moved slightly. “Is Cheongyu alive?”
“She is. Thanks to you.”
“That’s good.”
The words were short, but sincere. The woman did not miss the subtle difference. This child was not evil. She was not the type to treat human lives like toys. She simply did not feel the distance between fighting and dying the way ordinary people did.
She looked Seoryeong over slowly. “Name.”
“Jin Seoryeong.”
“I’m Hwarin.”
Seoryeong memorized the name. Strong people’s names were worth remembering. Hwarin. Red robes. Sword. Someone much stronger than Cheongyu. The name etched itself clearly into Seoryeong’s mind.
Hwarin glanced around at the villagers and said, “I came from the Cheongseong Sect.”
The villagers stirred. The Cheongseong Sect. The sect Cheongyu and Myeongho belonged to. A place that felt distant just hearing the name.
Hwarin continued, “Cheongyu and Myeongho returned to the sect and told us about you. So I came to confirm.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. “Confirm?”
“Whether you really did that.”
“I did.”
“And what kind of child you are.”
“What kind?”
Hwarin stared at Seoryeong for a moment, then chuckled. “A crazy girl.”
Her mother’s face hardened. But Seoryeong did not take offense. There was no contempt in the words. If anything, Hwarin seemed amused. Seoryeong could tell that much.
“Is that a compliment?”
“Half of one.”
“Then it’s fine.”
Hwarin could not hold back her laughter. What a strange child. Normally, people would either get angry or scared. But this child simply accepted the words at face value. She roughly gauged whether someone meant her harm and ignored everything else.
Hwarin suddenly wondered what would happen if she took this child to the Cheongseong Sect. Discipline. Etiquette. Sect honor. The righteous path’s principles. Would this child accept those things properly? Probably not. But would she completely reject them either? That might not be the case. She would learn quickly, especially anything related to fighting. But loyalty was not something to expect. This child did not follow people. She followed strength. She followed what interested her. She went where her heart raced. Whether it was the orthodox sects, the unorthodox, or the Demonic Cult, those names would not mean much to her.
Hwarin found that both appealing and dangerous.
“Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to come to Murim?”
Seoryeong did not hesitate. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“You said there are a lot of strong people.”
“Is that all?”
“Yeah.”
It was too simple. Hwarin laughed again. “No interest in money or fame?”
“If I have money, I can buy meat.”
“What about fame?”
“What’s that?”
One of the martial artists behind her made an incredulous face. Hwarin asked with amusement, “People praising your name, everyone recognizing you.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “Then would strong people come find me?”
“They might.”
“Then I like it.”
Hwarin clapped her hands and laughed. “Ah, Cheongyu was right. You really are consistent.”
Seoryeong did not understand why she was laughing. She had only stated facts.
Her mother quietly interjected, “Are you trying to take her away?”
Hwarin’s laughter faded slightly. She looked at Seoryeong’s parents. Farmers. Rough hands. Sun-browned faces. Simple but sturdy eyes. They were parents worried about their daughter. Hwarin fell silent for a moment. That such a child had been born in a place like this. The world sometimes played strange tricks.
“I have no intention of forcibly taking her right now.”
Her mother looked slightly relieved, but not completely at ease. Hwarin continued, “But this child will definitely leave the mountain someday.”
Her mother’s face hardened. The words were too accurate. She knew it too. Seoryeong would leave someday. She was not the kind of child who could be held back forever.
Her mother asked quietly, “Why do you think that?”
Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. Seoryeong was still staring at her. Or more precisely, at her hands and sword. Her eyes sparkled with the desire to fight.
Hwarin said, “Because that child’s eyes are already not here.”
Her mother could not say anything. The words pierced her chest. Seoryeong was still in the village. She ate meals, got scolded by her mother, accepted rice cakes from children, and shared meat with the fox. But her eyes were always looking beyond the mountain. To the place where strong people existed. To Murim. To the place of blood and fighting.
Her mother had not been unaware of that. She had only been pretending not to know.
Her father asked quietly, “If she goes, could she die?”
Hwarin did not lie. “She could.”
Her mother’s hands trembled. Her father’s eyes hardened. Hwarin continued, “But even if she stays here, she won’t be safe forever.”
“What do you mean?”
“This child has already killed nine bandits. The Cheongseong Sect knows, and soon other Murim warriors nearby will know too. Rumors spread. A silver-haired, red-eyed child who wiped out a bandit group without any training. There will definitely be people who find that story interesting.”
Her mother’s face went pale. Her father pressed his lips together. “Those people will come looking.”
“Yes.” Hwarin nodded. “Some will come out of curiosity. Some will want to take her as a disciple. Some will want to test her. There could even be madmen who want to kill her to make a name for themselves.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. “Will strong ones come too?”
Her mother immediately glared at her. “Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not what’s important right now.”
“It is important.”
Her mother pressed a hand to her forehead. Hwarin shook with suppressed laughter. What an incredible child. Hearing that people might come to take her life, her first question was whether they would be strong.
Hwarin said to Seoryeong, “Strong ones could come too.”
Seoryeong’s face lit up completely. “Good.”
“It is not good.”
Her mother, father, and Hwarin all spoke at nearly the same time. Seoryeong could not understand why the three of them said the exact same thing.
Hwarin sighed. “Even if you come to the Cheongseong Sect, you probably won’t last long.”
The Cheongseong Sect martial artists looked at her in surprise. “Saja?”
Hwarin raised a hand to stop them and looked at Seoryeong. “The Cheongseong Sect is orthodox. There are rules, protocols, and many things you must not do. You’ll probably find it stifling.”
Seoryeong nodded. “I think so.”
“You’re too honest.”
“Lying isn’t good.”
Hwarin chuckled. “Right. That’s why I like you.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. Hwarin continued, “But there are things you can learn. How to use your body. How to circulate internal energy. How to handle weapons. How to fight people. And what kind of place Murim is.”
Seoryeong’s eyes grew serious. Things to learn. Ways to become stronger. That was important. She had felt her own shortcomings while fighting the bandits. She had felt it when fighting Cheongyu too. She had dropped her spear after being hit on the wrist. A single scabbard had pressed down her spear. And now the woman in front of her had said Seoryeong would die without even properly blocking her sword once. She did not like that. Not because she was scared. Because it was a waste. It would be too boring to die before even properly clashing with someone that strong.
Seoryeong gripped her spear tightly. “If I learn, can I fight you?”
Hwarin narrowed her eyes. “Someday.”
“When?”
“That depends on how quickly you get stronger.”
The corner of Seoryeong’s mouth lifted. “Then I’ll learn.”
Her mother swallowed. Her father stared at his daughter with a hardened face. Too fast. She decided too easily. Leaving the village she had lived in her whole life. Being separated from her family. For this child, the promise of getting stronger was enough.
Her mother finally asked, “Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you really want to go?”
Seoryeong looked at her mother. Only then did she hesitate slightly. Because her mother’s eyes were wet. Seoryeong never hesitated in a fight. If a blade flew at her, she dodged or blocked. If an opponent showed an opening, she thrust. That was easy. But when her mother made a sad face, it was difficult. She did not know where to stab. She did not know where to block either.
Seoryeong closed her mouth. The villagers watched quietly. A breeze blew. Seoryeong’s silver hair swayed. After a long while, she spoke. “I want to go.”
Her mother closed her eyes. Seoryeong continued, “But I don’t want you to cry.”
Her mother’s expression nearly crumbled. Seoryeong chose her words very slowly. This was much harder for her than fighting. “If I stay here… it feels stifling.”
“……”
“Even when I go to the mountain, the beasts run away now.”
“……”
“The villagers are weak, Cheongyu left, and I want to get stronger but I don’t know how.”
Seoryeong looked down at her spear. “This spear is weak too.”
The words sounded strangely childlike, and her mother could neither laugh nor cry.
“So you want to go?”
“Yeah.”
“To get stronger?”
“Yeah.”
“To fight strong people?”
Seoryeong started to nod, then stopped and glanced at her mother. Her mother sighed. “Be honest.”
“Yeah. I want to fight.”
Her father chuckled quietly. Her mother glared at him. He quickly turned his head. But that laugh held sadness too. That was just like his daughter. She had always been that way. She could not lie. Her eyes sparkled when she talked about fighting. And even when scolded, she could not hide her feelings.
Hwarin watched the scene with interest. Jin Seoryeong was a monster. But she was not only a monster. She grew flustered when her mother cried. She read the room when her father sighed. She accepted rice cakes from village children and shared meat with the fox. She had ordinary parts too. That made her more dangerous. If she were a monster completely mad for blood, it would be simpler. She could be killed or locked away. But Jin Seoryeong was not that. She had human sides. Yet she also fit the battlefield too well.
Hwarin thought to herself, ‘This child will eventually make things difficult for the orthodox sects, the unorthodox, and the Demonic Cult alike.’ The orthodox sects would try to control her. The unorthodox would try to recruit her. The Demonic Cult would try to use her. But probably no one would be able to hold on to her for long. Seoryeong would see strength rather than affiliation. She would remember favors but not give loyalty. She would feel affection but not be bound by it.
Hwarin found that appealing. Dangerous, but a very attractive ember.
After a long silence, her mother said, “I don’t want to send her right away.”
Seoryeong’s eyes lowered slightly. “Yeah.”
“But I can’t hold on to her forever either.”
Her mother stroked Seoryeong’s head. Her fingers slowly passed through the silver hair. “Please give us a few days.”
The words were directed at Hwarin. Hwarin nodded. “Very well.”
“We need time to prepare.”
“Of course.”
“And…” Her mother looked Hwarin straight in the eye. “Please don’t treat our daughter like she belongs to the sect.”
One of the Cheongseong Sect martial artists hardened his face. But Hwarin did not laugh. Instead, she nodded seriously. “I cannot do that.”
“……”
“Because this child is not the kind to become anyone’s possession.”
Her mother felt slightly relieved at the answer. Or rather, strangely saddened. Hwarin had seen Seoryeong too clearly. Seoryeong could not belong to anyone. She would eventually leave even her parents’ embrace. She would eventually find the sect’s rules stifling. Neither the orthodox sects’ cause, the unorthodox’s freedom, nor the Demonic Cult’s madness would completely bind her. She would ultimately go where she wanted. To the place where strong opponents existed. To the place where her heart raced. That was Jin Seoryeong.
Hwarin took out a small iron plaque from her waist. A red pattern was engraved on it. She tossed it to Seoryeong. Seoryeong caught it reflexively. It was heavy. Cold.
“What’s this?”
“Something that proves my name, at least.”
“If I have this, will I meet strong people?”
Hwarin chuckled. “Many.”
Seoryeong’s eyes truly sparkled. Like a child who had received treasure. Her mother sighed again at that face. She really could not hide anything.
Hwarin said, “I’ll come back in a few days.”
“Will we fight then?”
“No.”
Seoryeong’s expression soured again. Hwarin laughed. “Instead, when you come to the Cheongseong Sect, I’ll show you people stronger than you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“A lot?”
“Many.”
Seoryeong gripped the iron plaque tightly. Her heart raced. Murim. Strong people. New fights. Opponents she had not met yet. Her mind was filled with those thoughts.
Hwarin shook her head as she looked at her. “You really are a girl who’s going to cause big trouble.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Half of one again.”
“Then it’s fine.”
Hwarin laughed once more. The three horses left the village again. Before departing, the woman in red robes looked back at Seoryeong one last time.
“Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t cause any trouble in the village until then.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “How much counts as trouble?”
Hwarin was speechless. Her father muttered quietly from behind, “Good question.”
Her mother glared at him. Hwarin laughed for a while before saying, “Don’t hurt people.”
“What if they attack?”
“Then don’t hurt them too much.”
“How much?”
“No more than three broken bones.”
Seoryeong nodded seriously. “Got it.”
Her mother shouted, “Why are you seriously negotiating that!”
Hwarin burst out laughing and spurred her horse. The Cheongseong Sect martial artists followed her with incredulous faces. The villagers watched the path where the horses had disappeared for a long time. Then everyone’s eyes turned back to Seoryeong.
Seoryeong was looking down at the iron plaque in her hand. The red pattern glowed faintly in the sunlight. An item that could let her meet strong people. That was how she understood it.
That evening, the house was strangely quiet. The table was set as usual, but no one could easily start a conversation. Seoryeong ate. It tasted good. But she ate a little slower than usual. Because her mother’s and father’s faces kept catching her eye.
What did it mean to leave? Seoryeong had never thought deeply about it. When she went to the mountain, she came back. When she went to the stream, she came back. When the merchant escort warriors left, she had simply thought that was how it was. When Cheongyu and Myeongho left, she had thought she would see them again someday. But this time was different. She was the one leaving. The house. The village. Her mother and father.
Seoryeong chewed her rice and suddenly asked, “If I go, will it be a long time before I can come back?”
Her mother’s chopsticks stopped. Her father looked up too. “It might be.”
Her father said, “Murim isn’t the next village over.”
“How far is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know?”
“I know it’s far.”
Seoryeong nodded. Far. She might not be able to come back for a long time. Those words felt strange. Her heart did not race like before a fight. Instead, it felt a little heavy. She looked at her mother. Her mother had barely touched her food. That bothered her.
“Mother.”
“Yes.”
“Will you be sad if I go?”
Her mother was silent for a moment. Then she answered honestly. “Yes.”
Seoryeong’s hand stopped. She had known that would be the answer. But hearing it directly felt strange.
“A lot?”
“A lot.”
Seoryeong looked down at her bowl. Fighting was harder than this. Much harder. When a strong opponent was in front of her, she could tell. Where they aimed. How they moved. Where their openings were. But her mother’s sadness was invisible. She did not know where to block. After thinking for a long time, she said, “Still, I want to go.”
Her mother nodded. “I know.”
“Sorry.”
At those words, her father looked at Seoryeong in surprise. Her mother’s eyes widened too. Seoryeong herself did not really know why she had said that. It had just felt like she should. Because her mother looked like she might cry. Because her father was silently chewing his rice. Because her desire to go had not changed, yet it seemed to hurt them.
Her mother eventually shed tears. Seoryeong was flustered. “Mother.”
“It’s all right.”
“You don’t look all right.”
“Still, it’s all right.”
Seoryeong did not know what to do. Then she took a piece of meat from her own bowl and placed it on her mother’s rice. Her mother paused. Her father paused too. Seoryeong said seriously, “Eat.”
Her mother laughed while crying. “Will eating this make it better?”
“It’s delicious.”
The words were so like Seoryeong that her mother finally laughed. Tears still remained, but there was laughter too. Her father quietly lowered his head. His shoulders trembled slightly. Whether he was laughing or crying was unclear.
That night, Seoryeong could not sleep. She went out to the yard. The moon was up. Her spear leaned against the wall. She picked it up and swung it slowly. The sound was not loud. She was worried her mother might wake up. For the first time, she cared about that. The spear tip glowed faintly in the moonlight. She moved slowly. Thrusting. Pulling. Hooking. Swinging. But today, strangely, her body did not grow hot like usual. Her parents’ faces kept appearing in her mind. Her mother’s face as she cried. Her father’s face as he silently chewed his rice. The village child’s hand offering a rice cake. Jo shouting, “What did you do this time?” The goat by the stream. The red fox that followed her. All of it came to mind.
Seoryeong suddenly realized something. She did not hate this village. It was stifling, but she did not hate it. There were no strong people, but she did not hate it. It was sometimes boring, and sometimes everyone looked at her strangely, but it was not bad. There was food. There was her mother. There was her father. The children gave her rice cakes. That kind of place. Yet she still wanted to leave. She wanted to get stronger. She wanted to fight strong people. That feeling had not disappeared.
Seoryeong stopped swinging the spear. She looked up at the moon. “Strange.”
She muttered quietly. Two feelings existed together. The desire to stay. The desire to leave. She knew which one was bigger. The desire to leave was bigger. But that did not mean there was no remaining feeling at all. That was strange.
Then the sound of a door opening came from behind. It was her father. He came out to the yard with a sleepy face and looked at Seoryeong. “Not sleeping?”
“No.”
“Swinging the spear again?”
“Yeah.”
Instead of sighing, her father sat on the porch. For a while, neither of them spoke. Seoryeong set down the spear and sat beside him. Moonlight settled over the two of them.
Her father spoke first. “Do you want to go?”
“Yeah.”
“Not scared?”
“Of what?”
“Leaving home.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “A little strange.”
“That might be what being scared feels like.”
“Really?”
“Probably.”
Seoryeong nodded. She had learned something new.
Her father looked at his daughter. “When you were little.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember when you first made a wooden spear?”
“Yeah.”
“Your palms were all scraped up.”
“Yeah.”
“Your mother almost cried, but do you know what you said?”
“What did I say?”
“You said you didn’t hate it.”
Seoryeong remembered. Blood had welled up on her palms. It hurt, but she had not hated it. The feeling of holding the spear had been better.
Her father gave a hollow laugh. “I should have known then.”
“Known what?”
“That you wouldn’t be able to live normally.”
Seoryeong did not answer. Her father looked up at the night sky. “I thought it would be nice if you just ate well, slept well, and went to the mountain sometimes.”
“Yeah.”
“But your eyes were always looking beyond the mountain.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Her father roughly stroked his daughter’s head. “Go.”
Seoryeong looked up. Her father forced a smile. “Don’t tell your mother I said that. She’ll kill me.”
“Yeah.”
“But go.”
“Why?”
“You’d go even if I didn’t send you.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Then she nodded honestly. “Yeah.”
Her father laughed helplessly. “Lie a little, at least.”
“Lying isn’t good.”
“Right, that’s just like you.”
Her father took out a small cloth pouch from his robe. It contained a few coins, an old talisman, and a small knife. “Take it.”
Seoryeong accepted the pouch. “What’s this?”
“A little money. One talisman. One knife.”
“Why the knife?”
“There might be situations where you can’t use the spear.”
Seoryeong took out the small knife and looked at it. It was short and old. Not a strong weapon. But it was something her father had given her. She nodded. “I’ll use it.”
“I didn’t give it to you to stab people.”
“Then?”
“Use it when eating, when cutting strings, whatever.”
“What if someone attacks?”
Her father pressed a hand to his forehead. “Then… handle it yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“Just stay alive.”
Seoryeong looked at her father. His voice was lower than usual. “Whether you fight strong opponents, turn Murim upside down, whatever you do… come back alive at least once.”
Seoryeong was silent for a long time. Then she nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come back.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I believe you this time?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “I’ll try.”
Her father laughed. “Well, that’s pretty reliable, coming from you.”
From the next day on, the house became busy. Her mother sewed clothes for Seoryeong to take. One thick outfit. One thin outfit. Several undergarments. Herbs for wounds. Dried meat. Rice cakes. And a small needle and thread.
Seoryeong watched quietly from the side and asked, “Do I have to take all this?”
“Of course.”
“It’s heavy.”
“You carry that spear around just fine, but a bundle of clothes is heavy?”
“I like the spear.”
“Like the clothes too.”
“Difficult.”
Her mother sighed, but her hands did not stop. She sewed Seoryeong’s clothes more firmly, patched worn spots, and added another pocket. “Put herbs in here.”
“Yeah.”
“Money here.”
“Yeah.”
“And don’t ever lose this.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t just answer. Remember.”
“I remembered.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Seoryeong felt wronged. She really had remembered. But when her mother made a face that said she did not believe her, she just nodded.
Villagers came one by one. The aunt from the house below brought dried vegetables. “Eat this on the way.”
“Yeah.”
“Soak it in water before eating.”
“What if I eat it as is?”
“Your teeth will fall out.”
Seoryeong nodded seriously. Jo brought an old leather strap. “Use this to tie your spear. That sloppy string of yours will come undone soon.”
“Thanks.”
“And don’t go around asking anyone in Murim if they’re strong.”
“Why?”
“It’s a provocative thing to say.”
“I’m curious if they’re strong.”
“That’s what makes it provocative!”
Seoryeong did not understand, but she nodded anyway. The children came too. Rice cakes. Dried fruit. Small stones. Strange leaves. Useful things and useless things mixed together. Seoryeong accepted all of them. A small boy said, “Noona, will you catch bandits even after going to Murim?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you catch monsters too?”
“If they’re strong.”
“What if they’re weak?”
“I won’t catch them.”
The child looked relieved. Seoryeong did not know why he was relieved. Another child asked, “Noona, will you become really famous later?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “They said if I become famous, strong people will come find me.”
“Then will you become famous?”
“That would be good.”
The children’s eyes sparkled. To them, Seoryeong was a strange and scary noona, but also something to be proud of. The person from their village going to Murim. The person who killed bandits alone. The person who ate rice cakes well. The person who knocked out a goat and dragged it home. All of that was Jin Seoryeong.
The night before departure, Seoryeong had a dream. A red battlefield. This time it was clearer. The sky was burning. The ground was soaked in blood. Countless soldiers screamed and charged. In the middle of it all stood a man. Black armor. A massive halberd. And a blood-soaked smile. He was alone. But he did not look lonely. His face showed joy even as hundreds charged at him. The halberd swung once. People flew. Shields shattered, spears broke, horses fell. The man laughed and shouted. Is there no one stronger? His voice tore through the sky.
Seoryeong watched him in the dream. Her heart pounded madly. Who is that person? Why does he feel familiar? Why does he feel like me even though he is a man? The man slowly turned his head. His face was still blurry. But his eyes were visible. Red, fierce, joyful eyes. Eyes similar to Seoryeong’s. The man spoke. The world is vast. Seoryeong swallowed. The man laughed. So find someone stronger.
The dream scattered. Seoryeong opened her eyes. It was dawn. The sun had not risen yet. The village was quiet. Seoryeong got up. Her bundle was already prepared. Her spear leaned against the wall. She picked it up. A familiar weight. An insufficient but familiar weapon. Someday she would hold a better weapon. Like the halberd from her dream. But for now, this was all she had.
Seoryeong went out to the yard. Her mother was already standing there. Her face showed she had barely slept. Her father was beside her. No one spoke. The three of them simply looked at each other for a while.
The first to move was her mother. She straightened Seoryeong’s collar, adjusted her sleeves, tied her waist cord, and checked the knots on her bundle. She had already checked them several times during the night, yet she checked again.
“Don’t skip meals.”
“Yeah.”
“Apply medicine right away if you get hurt.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t eat just anything.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t drink alcohol.”
Seoryeong paused for a moment. Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah. I won’t drink.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I was thinking.”
“About what.”
“Alcohol is strong.”
Her father turned his head and held back laughter. Her mother glared at him, then looked back at Seoryeong. “Even if it’s strong, don’t drink.”
“Yeah.”
“And…” Her mother’s voice trembled slightly. “Don’t kill people carelessly.”
Seoryeong looked at her mother. Those words were important. Her mother had said them many times. Fighting and killing were different. Seoryeong still did not completely understand. But she remembered. “Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Killing isn’t good.”
Her mother’s eyes wavered. Seoryeong thought a little more and said, “Fighting is good.”
“……”
“With strong people.”
Her mother finally laughed. Tears fell at the same time. “Right. That’s just like you.”
Seoryeong did not know what to do when she saw her mother crying. Then she took out a rice cake from her bundle. It was one her mother had packed yesterday. She held it out to her mother. “Want some?”
Her mother laughed while crying. “That’s for you to eat.”
“Eating something delicious makes things better.”
Her mother did not take the rice cake. Instead, she pulled Seoryeong into a hug. Tight. Very tight. Seoryeong’s breath caught slightly. But she stayed still. Her mother’s body was trembling. Seoryeong carefully patted her mother’s back. It was an awkward gesture. But it was sincere. “I’ll be back.”
At those words, her mother hugged her even tighter. “Come back.”
“Yeah.”
“Come back whenever, just come back.”
“Yeah.”
Her father coughed from behind. The corners of his eyes were slightly red. He approached Seoryeong and roughly stroked her head. “Don’t cause trouble when you get there.”
“Hwarin said no more than three broken bones.”
“That was a joke.”
“It was a joke?”
“Please think of it as a joke.”
Seoryeong nodded. Her father sighed while laughing. “And don’t go charging at strong opponents the moment you see them.”
“Why?”
“Because you might lose.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. Her father immediately raised his hands. “Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“The face that says you like that.”
Seoryeong felt wronged. She did like it, so how could she make a face that said she did not? Her father eventually patted his daughter’s shoulder. “Stay alive.”
Those words were short. But heavy. Seoryeong nodded. “Yeah.”
Then the sound of hooves came from the village entrance. Hwarin had returned. This time she was alone. Red robes. Black hair. Sword at her waist. She smiled at Seoryeong from atop her horse. “Are you ready?”
Seoryeong held her spear. Carried her bundle. And nodded. “Yeah.”
Hwarin bowed respectfully to Seoryeong’s parents. “I will take her with me.”
Her mother could not say anything. Her father nodded instead. “Please take care of her.”
Hwarin was silent for a moment before speaking. “She is not a child I can keep for long.”
Her father gave a bitter smile. “I know.”
“Still, I will teach her what I can.”
Her mother said quietly, “Please make sure she can remain a person.”
Hwarin’s eyes wavered for a brief moment. Remain a person. Those words carried a strange weight. Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. The silver-haired girl was already looking beyond the mountain. Her eyes were filled with expectation and excitement. Like a child heading to the battlefield. No, like a child who considered the battlefield home.
Hwarin said quietly, “I will do my best.”
Seoryeong looked back at her house one last time. The old roof. The yard. The marks she had dug. The firewood leaning against the wall. The vegetables her mother had been drying. The axe her father used. All of it was familiar. Strangely, her chest felt a little heavy. She tried to remember that sensation for a long time. Because she would have to come back someday.
She bowed her head to her parents. It was an awkward but sincere greeting. “I’ll be back.”
Her mother could not answer and only waved her hand. Her father forced a smile. Villagers had come out one by one as well. Jo stood with his arms crossed. “Don’t go stabbing just anyone!”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t go around asking if people are strong!”
“Yeah.”
“Why is your answer so unreliable!”
Seoryeong tilted her head. The children waved their hands. “Seoryeong noona!”
“Become famous!”
“Come back to eat rice cakes!”
Seoryeong smiled slightly at those words. “Yeah.”
Hwarin slowly moved her horse. Seoryeong did not mount. She had said she would walk. Hwarin did not find it strange. This child had the face of someone who wanted to go on her own two feet.
Thus, Seoryeong left the village. For the first time. Beyond the mountain. To Murim. To the place where strong people existed.
The village path gradually grew distant. Her mother’s figure grew smaller. Her father’s figure grew smaller. The children’s waving hands blurred. Seoryeong looked back one more time. Then she looked forward. Her heart raced. Thump. Thump. She could not tell if it was sadness, expectation, or excitement. Probably all of them mixed together a little.
Hwarin asked from beside her, “You’re not crying.”
“Should I cry?”
“Usually people do.”
“Since Mother cried, I think it’s fine if I don’t.”
Hwarin was silent for a moment, then laughed. “Strange answer, but strangely it makes sense.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. Hwarin looked forward and said, “From now on, the world you’ll see will be different from your village.”
“Are there a lot of strong people?”
“Many.”
“How many?”
“More than you can imagine.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. Hwarin saw her reaction and chuckled. “But not everyone will fight you head-on.”
“Why?”
“There are plenty of cowards, plenty of people who use their heads, plenty of strong people pretending to be weak, and plenty of weak people pretending to be strong.”
“Complicated.”
“Murim is complicated by nature.”
Seoryeong made a face that said she did not like that. Fighting was best when it was head-on. Clashing strength, moving bodies, pushing until breathing became difficult. Using poison or hiding behind people was not fun.
Hwarin saw her expression and asked, “Do you dislike cowardly things?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Not fun.”
“Not because it’s not righteous?”
Seoryeong tilted her head. “What’s that?”
Hwarin laughed. “Never mind. I understand what kind of person you are.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that doesn’t fit in the orthodox sects, is too honest for the unorthodox, and too willful for the Demonic Cult.”
Seoryeong understood less than half of it. “Then where do I fit?”
Hwarin thought for a moment. Then she said, “The battlefield.”
Seoryeong’s steps paused for a brief moment. The battlefield. Those words strangely resonated in her chest. The place she had seen in her dreams. The place where blood, flags, hooves, and strong people gathered. Seoryeong slowly smiled. “Sounds good.”
Hwarin saw that smile and thought quietly to herself. She was really taking a child who was going to cause big trouble. But strangely, she felt no regret. Instead, she felt anticipation. What would happen when this child entered Murim? What kind of face would she make when she saw the orthodox sects’ rules? How would she smile when she faced unorthodox experts? Who would get tired first when she fought the Demonic Cult’s madmen? And someday, when she truly stood before her again, how heavy would this child’s spear have become?
Hwarin smiled faintly. “Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“Get stronger.”
Seoryeong looked up. Hwarin looked forward and said, “So you can fight me.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled brightly. Those words alone were enough. Her steps grew lighter.
The mountain path was ending. Far ahead, a wide road came into view. A road with more footprints than the villagers’ tracks. Wheel marks from merchant carts. Hoof prints. The road Murim warriors had traveled.
Seoryeong looked at that road. Her heart raced. Thump. Thump. It felt like she could hear the voice of the man from her dream again. The world is vast. So find someone stronger.
Seoryeong adjusted her grip on the spear. An old, shoddy weapon. But for now, this was enough. Someday she would hold a heavier weapon. Someday, like the halberd from her dream, she would find a weapon that suited her. And someday, she would truly clash with strong people. Whether they were from the orthodox sects, the unorthodox, or the Demonic Cult. It did not matter where. If there were strong people, she would go. If there were fun fights, she would go. If her heart raced, she would go. That was Jin Seoryeong.
Hwarin walked ahead. Seoryeong followed behind her. Murim did not yet know her name. The orthodox sects, the unorthodox, and the Demonic Cult did not yet know her. Only a few from the Cheongseong Sect had discovered a strange girl in a mountain village. But it would not take long. Silver hair and red eyes. A girl smiling while holding an old spear. A child who did not avoid strong opponents but charged at them. A strange battle maniac who loved fighting but had no interest in tormenting the weak.
The moment she set foot in Murim, the still waters of the martial world would begin to ripple, little by little. At first it would be small waves. Small rumors. Small spars. Small incidents. But ripples would eventually become waves. Waves would eventually become a tide. And that tide would someday become a great storm that neither the orthodox sects, the unorthodox, nor the Demonic Cult could ignore.
Jin Seoryeong did not yet know that. She knew only one thing. At the end of this road, there were strong people. That fact was unbearably joyful.
Seoryeong smiled. Small, pointed fangs showed faintly in the sunlight. And the child of war born in a mountain village descended the mountain for the first time.