The Mountain Road
The mountain path was longer than expected. Jin Seoryeong looked back at her village for the first time in a long while. The thatched roofs receding into the distance. The fields shrinking smaller. Smoke rising slowly from the chimneys. The stream and mountain slopes she had run across countless times. The paths she had raced barefoot through in summer and climbed with a spear even when her feet froze in winter. The forest her mother had forbidden her from entering, yet she always snuck into anyway. The yard where her father split firewood. The corner where Old Cho had stumbled drunk. The village entrance where the children stood holding rice cakes. All of it was familiar. Yet today, it felt strangely foreign.
Seoryeong never stopped walking, but she kept glancing back. Hwarin, still mounted on her horse, glanced at her.
“You keep looking back.”
Seoryeong was silent for a moment. Then she answered honestly. “First time.”
“For what?”
“Going this far.”
Hwarin chuckled. “So you do know how to be scared.”
“Not scared.”
“Then what?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. She did not quite understand the feeling. Her chest felt a little tight. Her body wanted to keep moving forward, yet she kept turning to look back. It was different from the moment right before fighting a strong opponent. That had been heat in her lungs and blood rushing faster. This felt heavier.
“Strange.”
That was all she could say. Hwarin did not press further. Instead, she looked ahead and spoke. “It always feels strange the first time you leave.”
“Did it feel that way for you too?”
“I could not sleep for three days when I left home.”
Seoryeong’s eyes widened slightly. “Even strong people?”
“Strong people are still people.”
Seoryeong turned the words over in her mind. Strong people are still people. It was obvious, yet it felt oddly unfamiliar. The strong ones in her memories had always seemed like monsters on the battlefield. People drenched in blood and laughing. People walking between blades. People who grew more delighted the more lives were at stake. Even those kinds of beings could not sleep when leaving home. It was a little fascinating.
The path gradually widened. Until now there had only been animal tracks and traces of villagers. Now there were wheel ruts. Hoof prints. Countless footprints. The smells changed too. Sweat. Horses. Metal. Smoke. Medicinal herbs. Oil. And a faint trace of blood. Seoryeong caught every single one.
Hwarin suddenly looked back. “Are you sniffing the air?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you hear things too?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you hear?”
Seoryeong tilted her head slightly. Wind passed through. Leaves brushed together. A bird flapped its wings in the distance. A small creature ran across the dirt. Farther down the road came the faint sound of hooves. The creak of wheels rolling over stones.
“Horses up ahead.”
“How far?”
“A little ways.”
“How many?”
Seoryeong listened again. “Five.”
Hwarin’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “You can tell that too?”
“The sounds are different.”
“……”
Hwarin fell silent for a moment. Her senses are like an animal’s. No. Better than an animal’s. Most people would not be able to separate so many overlapping sounds. But Seoryeong felt them all. Hwarin looked forward without a word. Was it really a good idea to bring this child to the Cheongseong Sect? The thought returned. There were many talented children. The murim had monstrous prodigies and geniuses who could manifest sword qi at a young age. But Seoryeong was different. It did not feel like talent that would grow stronger through training. It felt like something was already writhing inside her. She would grow stronger if she learned martial arts. That much was certain. But no one knew which direction she would fly once she did. Could the Cheongseong Sect contain her? No. Perhaps the very idea of containing her was wrong. Jin Seoryeong was not someone to be contained. She was someone who passed through. If she liked something, she stayed. If she grew bored, she left. If there was a strong person, she approached. Once interest faded, she never looked back. That was the Jin Seoryeong Hwarin had come to understand in a single day.
Hwarin changed the subject. “Hungry?”
“A little.”
“A little?”
“Very.”
Hwarin burst out laughing. “You ate so much before we left.”
“Walking makes me hungry.”
“Even eating well is a talent.”
Seoryeong nodded at that. “Yeah.”
Her answer was so matter-of-fact that Hwarin laughed again. “You took that as a compliment?”
“Wasn’t it?”
“It was.”
Seoryeong accepted it. She reached into her bundle and pulled out one of the rice cakes her mother had packed. Carefully unwrapping the cloth, she took a bite. It was sweet and chewy. Her eyes softened slightly. Hwarin watched her face with a strange expression. Moments ago she had seemed like a monster who smelled of battlefields. Now she was just a mountain girl who liked rice cakes. That gap was the problem. It made people let their guard down. Then, the moment fighting began, she would charge ahead of everyone else.
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
“Your mother packed it?”
“Yeah.”
“Save some. You will finish it all at this rate.”
Seoryeong looked at the rice cake in her hand. She wanted another bite. But Hwarin was right. After a moment of hesitation, she wrapped it back up and put it away. Hwarin smiled at the action. “You listen when told.”
“If it makes sense, I listen.”
“And if it does not?”
“I do not.”
“The Sect Leader will love you.”
“Sect Leader?”
“The highest person in the sect.”
“Strong?”
Hwarin smiled as if she had expected the question. “Very.”
“Stronger than you?”
“Much.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. “Nice.”
Hwarin pressed a hand to her forehead. She really never changed.
A little later, a merchant caravan approached from the opposite direction. Five horses. Two carts. Six porters. Three escort warriors. Two merchants. And a child sitting at the back of one cart. The moment the caravan members saw Hwarin, their faces stiffened. Red robes. Sword at her waist. An aura that could not be hidden. They recognized a murim practitioner at once. One of the escort warriors quickly clasped his hands in greeting.
“Pardon us.”
Hwarin waved a hand dismissively. “Move aside.”
The caravan immediately shifted to the edge of the road. Seoryeong watched them and asked, “Why move?”
“It is best not to bother strong murim practitioners.”
“Why?”
“People can die.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment, then nodded. Strong people are dangerous. So avoid them. Simple.
The escort warriors stole glances at Seoryeong as well. Silver hair. Red eyes. An old spear. Village clothes. And a young girl walking casually beside Hwarin. It was strange. Some thought she must be a young lady from a wealthy household. Others assumed she was Hwarin’s disciple. Still others felt an inexplicable sense of unease. Seoryeong felt every gaze, but paid them no mind. What interested her more than being stared at was the smell of the goods loaded on the carts. Dried fish. Cloth. Alcohol. Grain. Sweets. Her eyes stopped on the last one. The scent of sweets.
The young boy sitting at the back of the cart looked at Seoryeong and widened his eyes. The silver hair. The red eyes must have been fascinating too. He stared blankly at her. Seoryeong stared back. While they were looking at each other, the boy suddenly held out the sweets in his hand.
“Want some?”
Hwarin let out a short laugh. Offering sweets to a complete stranger? What was even funnier was Seoryeong. She accepted the sweets without hesitation. “Tasty.”
The boy looked oddly proud. The caravan members were breaking into cold sweats. Not only had the child given sweets to an unknown murim practitioner, but the practitioner had accepted them. They could not understand what was happening. Hwarin could not hold back her laughter. “You really have a strange talent.”
“For what?”
“Making people relax.”
Seoryeong did not understand. She had only accepted the sweets she was offered. The caravan soon moved on. The boy kept watching Seoryeong until they left. Seoryeong waved once. Hwarin watched the scene and thought to herself. What a strange child. She showed no hesitation when killing people, yet accepted sweets from a child without suspicion. Her eyes blazed when she saw strong opponents, yet she showed no wariness toward the weak. She was nothing like ordinary murim practitioners.
“Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“You would be easy to trick.”
“Why?”
“I feel like you would eat poisoned sweets.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “I could probably smell it.”
“……”
Hwarin was at a loss for words. Now that she thought about it, the girl’s senses were abnormally sharp. She might actually be able to detect poison by smell. Hwarin found herself smiling despite herself. “Right. You are an exception.”
“I do not like poison.”
“Why?”
“It is boring.”
“Not because it hurts?”
“Pain is fine.”
Seoryeong spoke calmly. “But I do not like it when my body gets dull.”
Hwarin looked at her. Her standards had always been like this. Her likes and dislikes were closer to combat instinct than morality or good and evil. Poison was bad not because it was cowardly or because it harmed people. It was bad because it dulled the body and made fighting less enjoyable. That way of thinking was dangerous. Yet strangely consistent. Hwarin spoke. “There are many poison users in the murim.”
“Then I do not like them.”
“There are strong poison masters too.”
Seoryeong’s gaze shifted slightly. “Strong?”
“Very. Some can kill ten masters without swinging a sword even once.”
Seoryeong frowned. “That sounds boring.”
“Even if you find it boring, it is over if you die.”
“Then I will kill them before they get close.”
Hwarin pressed a hand to her forehead. “You cannot say things like that so casually in the orthodox sects.”
“Why?”
“People will be shocked.”
“They are already shocked.”
That was true. Hwarin could not argue. They walked on. The sun rose higher and the path grew wider. Seoryeong found everything she passed fascinating. Carts piled high with goods. Wandering warriors with sabers at their waists. An old man leaning on a wooden staff. A woman selling medicinal herbs by the roadside. Merchants haggling. These were sights she had never seen in the village. She kept asking questions.
“Is that person strong?”
“Weak.”
“What about that one?”
“A merchant.”
“Are merchants weak?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then they can be strong?”
“If they have money, they can hire strong martial artists.”
“That is not their own strength.”
“In the murim, that counts as strength too.”
Seoryeong made a face of clear displeasure. “Strange.”
“Money is power. Reputation is power. Sects are power.”
“What about fists and spears?”
“Those are power too.”
“Those are the best.”
Hwarin laughed. “The unorthodox masters would like you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are simple.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Half of one.”
Seoryeong accepted it. A little later, the sound of flowing water reached them from afar. A valley. Hwarin dismounted. “Let us rest for a bit.”
Seoryeong went straight to the water. It was clear. She could see the stones at the bottom. She washed her hands and drank. The water was cold and refreshing. It ran down the backs of her hands. She looked at them. Calluses covered her palms. Scars still remained on the backs of her hands. Wounds from fighting the bandits. She clenched and opened her fists a few times. Still not enough. Her body was stronger than before. Her movements were faster. But the gap she had felt when facing Hwarin was too great. Hwarin had said she would die without even properly blocking a single sword strike. Those words lingered in her mind. They did not feel unpleasant. If anything, they excited her. There were people that strong. And people stronger than Hwarin. The Cheongseong Sect Leader was stronger still. There would be even greater monsters in the murim. Just thinking about it made her body grow hot.
Seoryeong picked up a long branch lying by the water and swung it without thinking. Whoosh. The air trembled. Hwarin, watering her horse, watched. Seoryeong’s stance was clumsy. It was not a formally learned posture. Her feet were all over the place and her wrist angles did not match anything in a manual. Yet somehow it was powerful. Her entire body moved like a weapon. The force started from her toes, rose through her waist, passed through her shoulders, and flowed into her arms. The flow was instinctive. No one had taught her, yet her body knew. Hwarin suddenly felt a chill down her spine. What would happen if this child learned proper spear techniques? No, would learning them even be the right thing? What if teaching her the orthodox way only ruined her? Hwarin muttered quietly to herself. “A monster is a monster.”
Seoryeong turned her head. “What did you say?”
“I was complimenting you.”
“Okay.”
She accepted it so easily. Hwarin smiled. That was when Seoryeong’s eyes suddenly changed. Her body turned at once. The forest. A presence. Hwarin slowly turned her gaze as well. A moment later, three people emerged from between the trees. Their clothes were ragged. Their eyes were sharp. Swords hung at their waists. Hwarin sighed. “Of all times.”
Bandits. Or rather, closer to wandering thugs. They had not learned proper martial arts. But their eyes were accustomed to killing. The man in the middle smirked. “Lucky day.” He paused when he saw Hwarin. Red robes. Her aura. He recognized a murim practitioner. But then his gaze shifted to Seoryeong. Silver hair. Red eyes. A young girl. Greed flickered in his eyes. “That girl would fetch a good price.”
In an instant, the air turned cold. Hwarin’s eyes grew icy. But the one who moved first was Seoryeong. Shing. The spear tip slowly rose. Her expression was calm. If anything, she looked slightly disappointed. “They look weak.”
The man’s face twisted. “What?”
“All three of you.”
Hwarin’s lips curved upward slightly as she watched from the side. Even in this situation, she judged strength first. She really never changed. One of the bandits cursed and charged. His sword flashed. It was not fast. To Seoryeong, it was painfully simple. The direction of his feet. The movement of his shoulders. The strength in his wrist. She saw everything. The spear shaft moved. Clang! The sword was knocked away. At the same time, Seoryeong’s body shot forward. Thud! The end of the spear shaft struck the man’s solar plexus. “Guh!” His body flew backward and rolled after hitting a tree. He could not even breathe properly and only clawed at the ground. The other two men’s faces hardened. Fast. Too fast. But what was even stranger was the girl’s eyes. Terrifying. Truly. It was not bloodlust. It was not mad frenzy. It was far too calm. Eyes that treated beating people as natural. That was what made their skin crawl.
Seoryeong spun her spear and asked, “Are there no stronger ones?”
The two bandits went cold. This was real. This girl liked fighting. She was not pretending to be scared or bluffing. She was genuinely looking for strong opponents. Hwarin watched from behind without any intention of helping. One bandit ground his teeth. “Kill her!”
Both charged at once. One from the left. One from the right. A pincer attack. An ordinary person would have panicked. But Seoryeong’s heart beat a little faster. Two. Their movements and speeds were different. Fun. In that moment, a brief afterimage flashed. A red battlefield. Dust. Screams. Dozens of spears thrusting in at once. In the center of it all, someone was laughing. A massive shadow standing on horseback. A long, heavy spear-halberd in hand. Soldiers charging from every direction. Yet he did not retreat. He drove deeper instead. Toward where the most spear tips gathered. Toward the most dangerous place. Toward the hottest place. Seoryeong’s lips curved upward slightly. Her body moved. A sword passed over her head. At the same time, her spear sprang upward from below. Crack! The right bandit’s jaw snapped upward. Teeth flew. Seoryeong twisted her body and spun the spear shaft. Crunch! The left bandit’s knee buckled. A scream rang out. “Aaaagh!”
Seoryeong did not stop. The spear tip halted in front of a throat. The bandit’s face went white. He was going to die. He felt it instinctively. Seoryeong looked into those eyes quietly. Then she spoke. “Weak.”
In that moment, the bandit trembled. Not from humiliation. Because he knew the girl was sincere. Because her face showed genuine disappointment. Hwarin watched Seoryeong in silence. She really was strange. Most people grew excited or nervous in their first real fight. But not Seoryeong. The moment she fought, she became calmer instead. She enjoyed her opponent’s movements. And she showed no hesitation even when she could kill. Yet she did not kill. Whether that standard came from morality, interest, or her parents’ words, she did not know yet. But at least right now, Seoryeong had stopped. That alone brought Hwarin a small measure of relief.
Seoryeong withdrew her spear. The bandit looked up at her with a dazed expression. “Why… not kill me?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Then she answered honestly. “It was not fun.”
“……”
“It was already over.”
The bandit’s face turned ashen. Hwarin muttered inwardly. What a dangerous way of thinking. Yet at the same time, she strangely did not cross the line. She liked fighting but did not enjoy slaughter. Once an opponent broke, she lost interest. That was what made her more frightening. Seoryeong rested the spear on her shoulder. “Go.”
The three bandits stared blankly for a moment before fleeing in a panic. The forest fell silent in an instant. Hwarin approached. “Why let them live?”
“They were weak.”
“Being weak does not mean you can kill them.”
“I know.”
Seoryeong nodded. “But there was no reason to kill them either.”
Hwarin was silent for a moment. Those words strangely pleased her. Jin Seoryeong was dangerous. But she was not completely mad. She had her own standards. Strange and willful, but they clearly existed. Hwarin washed her hands in the valley water and spoke. “There are many like them in the murim.”
“Weak but noisy?”
“Yeah.”
“Annoying.”
“Still, be careful.”
“Why?”
“Weak people are better at cowardly things.”
Seoryeong frowned slightly at that. Poison. Ambush. Backstabbing. She did not like those. She preferred head-on clashes. Hwarin shook her hands dry and mounted her horse again. “Let us go. We need to pass at least one inn before sunset.”
“Inn?”
“A place to eat and rest.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. “Is there meat?”
“Probably.”
“Nice.”
Hwarin laughed. This child really was simple. But that simplicity was terrifying. Strong people. Fighting. Meat. Family. She moved according to only a few criteria. So she seemed easy to predict, yet at decisive moments, no one would be able to stop her. They walked on. The sun began to sink. Long shadows stretched across the path. Birdsong faded and insect sounds grew louder. People on the road began moving faster. They needed to reach an inn or village before nightfall. Night travel was dangerous in the murim. There were bandits, beasts, and murim practitioners more dangerous than either. Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled at those words. Hwarin spoke first. “Do not suggest walking at night just because it is dangerous.”
“Why?”
“It is annoying.”
“Strong people might come out.”
“More annoying people come out than strong ones.”
“Then it is not fun.”
“That is why we are going to an inn.”
Seoryeong nodded. There was no need to fight boring battles. A little later, lights appeared in the distance. A two-story inn stood by the road. Several horses were already tied to the fence. Two carts as well. Shadows moved inside the windows. The smell of alcohol. Meat. Sweat. Metal. Seoryeong stopped in front of the inn. It was a place she had never seen before. There were more people than during festival days in the village. Hwarin dismounted, handed over the reins, and went inside. Seoryeong followed. When the door opened, a wave of sound hit them. Laughter. Clinking cups. Someone cursing. Meat sizzling. The sound of the waiter running. And countless gazes. The moment Hwarin entered, the inn fell briefly silent. Several murim practitioners had recognized her.
“Is that not Cheongseong Sect’s Hwarin?”
“Looks like it.”
“Why would she come to a place like this?”
“Who is that kid next to her?”
Whispers spread. Seoryeong felt the gazes and looked around the inn. There were not many strong people. Most were weak. But a few were different. The gray-robed elder in the corner. The saber user by the window. The young man in black drinking. They smelled different from the others. The scent of metal and blood clung deeply to them. Seoryeong naturally looked their way. Hwarin noticed her gaze and spoke quietly. “Starting again?”
“They look a little strong.”
“Do not fight.”
“I have not said anything yet.”
“Your eyes already have.”
Seoryeong touched her own eyes. She did not understand what it meant for eyes to speak. Hwarin took a seat. Seoryeong sat across from her. The waiter hurried over. “What would you like?”
Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. “Anything you want?”
“Meat.”
“Besides that.”
“Lots of meat.”
The waiter looked dazed. Hwarin held back a laugh and ordered reasonably. Two meat dishes. Soup. Dumplings. Rice. And a bottle of alcohol. Seoryeong looked at the bottle. “You said alcohol makes people strong.”
“I can drink.”
“Why?”
“Because I am an adult.”
“Are adults strong?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then it is strange.”
Hwarin laughed while holding her cup. “Your words are sometimes right, which makes them more annoying.”
The food arrived. Seoryeong fell silent at once. Because of the smell of meat. Her chopsticks moved. She picked up meat, placed it on rice, and put it in her mouth. Her eyes softened slightly. Hwarin drank while watching her. “Good?”
“Yeah.”
“How is the murim?”
“The meat is good.”
“Is that your entire impression?”
“I have not fought any strong people yet.”
Hwarin nearly spat out her drink. Several murim practitioners who had been listening coughed. Some laughed. Some frowned. Seoryeong paid no attention. She was eating meat. That was when the saber user by the window stood up. He was large. Broad shoulders. An old scar on his face. A wide saber hung at his waist. He deliberately stepped heavily. Thud. Thud. Every gaze in the inn turned to him. He smirked at Seoryeong’s silver hair. “So the Cheongseong Sect is bringing children around now?”
Hwarin did not put her cup down. “If you have had your drink, finish it quietly.”
The man chuckled. “I have heard your name, Hwarin. But who is that little girl next to you?”
Seoryeong looked up from chewing meat. “Why?”
The saber user paused. Those eyes. Red pupils staring straight at him. Not fearful eyes. Curiosity. Assessment. And a hint of disappointment. For some reason, his mood soured. “What are you looking at?”
“Seeing if you are strong.”
The inn fell silent. Hwarin pressed a hand to her forehead. The man’s face hardened. “What?”
Seoryeong spoke with complete honesty. “You do not seem very strong.”
In that moment, the air in the inn froze. Several murim practitioners struggled not to laugh. Others looked at Seoryeong like she was insane. The man’s face flushed red. “This little wench.”
He reached out. A hand aiming for Seoryeong’s hair. Hwarin did not move. Instead, she quietly set her cup down. But Seoryeong moved first. Thwack. The spear shaft struck the man’s wrist. The sound was not loud. But his wrist snapped upward. His eyes widened. Fast. From a seated position. While eating. She struck his wrist that accurately? Seoryeong remained seated. One hand held chopsticks. The other held her spear. “I am eating.”
The man’s face twisted. He grabbed his saber hilt. Hwarin’s voice came low. “Draw it.”
The air in the inn suddenly grew heavy. The man’s hand stopped. Hwarin was not smiling. “Draw it. But you will have to leave one of your arms here.”
Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead. Cheongseong Sect’s Hwarin. That name was not light. She was already a well-known swordswoman among the orthodox sect’s rising stars. The man ground his teeth. But in the end, he did not draw his saber. “How unlucky.”
He withdrew his hand and turned away. Seoryeong tilted her head. “Why not fight?”
Hwarin sighed. “People usually do not fight.”
“Cowards.”
The man’s shoulders twitched. But this time he held back. Someone in the corner of the inn laughed quietly. Seoryeong tried to eat again, then suddenly asked, “But why is he noisy when he is weak?”
Laughter erupted this time. Several murim practitioners could not hold it in. The man’s face turned completely red. Hwarin spoke while lifting her cup. “There are many people in the jianghu who are weak but noisy.”
“Strange.”
“It is a strange place.”
Seoryeong nodded. The murim was more complicated than she had thought. Weak but noisy people. Strong but quiet people. People who acted like they would fight then backed down. People who bought strength with money. People who fought with poison. But she did not entirely dislike that complexity. There would be strong people within it. As the meal was ending, the gray-robed elder sitting in the corner slowly stood. He placed payment for his drink and passed by, pausing briefly in front of Seoryeong. Hwarin’s gaze shifted slightly. Seoryeong looked at him too. He was old, but his body was light. His footsteps made almost no sound. He was much stronger than the saber user. Seoryeong’s eyes lit up. The elder looked at her and chuckled. “Interesting eyes.”
Seoryeong asked immediately. “Are you strong?”
The inn fell silent again. Hwarin closed her eyes as if giving up. The elder looked at Seoryeong for a moment, then laughed. “If you charged at me right now, I would at least be strong enough to knock you down in three steps.”
Seoryeong’s eyes blazed. “Want to fight?”
The elder laughed louder. “Not today.”
“Why?”
“You are not ripe yet.”
Seoryeong frowned. “Like meat?”
“Something like that.”
The elder tapped Seoryeong’s spear with his finger. In that moment, Seoryeong felt a tingling in her palm. It was a light touch. Yet the entire spear vibrated. Seoryeong’s eyes changed. Strong. This elder was truly strong. Seoryeong tried to stand, but Hwarin spoke quietly. “Sit.”
Seoryeong stopped. But her eyes remained fixed on the elder. The elder smiled and walked out of the inn. “The Cheongseong Sect picked up something interesting.”
The door closed. Seoryeong stared at it for a long time. Her heart was pounding. That elder just now. He was strong. He had not run. He had not been noisy. He had only brushed past, yet her palm still vibrated. There were people like that. There really were such people in the murim. Seoryeong slowly exhaled. Hwarin looked at her. “You like that?”
“Yeah.”
“You would have lost if you fought earlier.”
“I know.”
“And you still like it?”
Seoryeong nodded. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Next time I can last longer.”
Hwarin was at a loss for words. This child was not afraid of losing. She was not completely afraid of dying either. She simply hated ending without having done anything. That was a terrifying quality in a murim practitioner. At the same time, it was a disposition that made long life difficult. Hwarin spoke quietly. “Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“If you want to fight strong people, live long first.”
Seoryeong looked at Hwarin. “Why?”
“Because if you die, there is no next time.”
The words were simple. So Seoryeong understood. If she died, there would be no next fight. That would be troublesome. Seoryeong nodded seriously. “Then I will not die.”
“It is not something you say so easily.”
“Still, I will not die.”
Hwarin smiled. “Right. I like that answer.”
That night, Seoryeong lay in the inn’s small room. It was her first time sleeping in such a place. The ceiling was unfamiliar and the bedding smelled different. Unlike her village home, she could hear someone snoring in the next room. From downstairs came the continued sounds of drinking. Someone laughing. Someone cursing. Someone striking a scabbard against the floor. Seoryeong closed her eyes. But sleep did not come immediately. She had seen too much. The caravan. The boy who gave her sweets. The bandits at the valley. The saber user at the inn. The gray-robed elder. The murim was truly strange. There were weak but noisy people. There were strong but quiet people. There were people who backed down when intimidated. There were people whose mere passing made her palm vibrate. It was fun. Truly. It was far more complicated, far noisier, and far more dangerous than her mountain village. And there were that many strong people because of it. Seoryeong clenched and opened her hand. The sensation of the elder tapping her spear with his finger still lingered. That level of power. That level of presence. Could she become like that someday? No. Could she become even stronger? Her heart raced at the thought. A little later, Hwarin’s voice came from outside the door. “Asleep?”
“No.”
“Figures.”
The door opened slightly. Hwarin entered. She held two small wooden cups and a water bottle. Not alcohol. She must have remembered that Seoryeong’s mother had said not to drink. Hwarin handed one cup to Seoryeong. “Drink.”
Seoryeong accepted and drank. It was not cold, but it was fine. Hwarin leaned against the window. “How was today?”
“Fun.”
“What was the best part?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “The elder.”
“Of course.”
“Who was he?”
“I do not know exactly either. But he is probably a fairly well-known recluse master.”
“Recluse master?”
“A strong person who lives in hiding.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. “If he is hiding, why is he strong?”
“Because he is strong, he can hide.”
“Strange.”
“There are many such people in the murim. Strong but hiding. Weak but showing off. Villains pretending to be good. People who look like villains but repay kindness.”
Seoryeong listened quietly. Hwarin continued. “So do not only believe what you see with your eyes.”
“Then what do I believe?”
Hwarin thought for a moment. “Your senses.”
Seoryeong looked up. “And what you have personally experienced.”
Those words pleased Seoryeong. What she had personally experienced. That she could believe. The sensation of spear meeting sword. An opponent’s strength. Breathing. Eyes. The moment blood grew hot. Those things did not lie. Hwarin spoke quietly. “But no matter how good your senses are, there will be times you are deceived.”
“Then?”
“Learn from it.”
“By getting hit?”
“Yes. By getting hit.”
Seoryeong nodded. That was familiar. If a spear was pushed back, grip it harder next time. If a wrist was twisted, move differently next time. Hwarin smiled. “You really do listen well.”
“If it makes sense, I listen.”
“And if it does not?”
“I do not.”
“Then you will get scolded a lot at the Cheongseong Sect.”
Seoryeong drank water and asked, “Is the Cheongseong Sect stifling?”
“There are stifling parts.”
“Then why go?”
Hwarin did not answer immediately. She looked out the window. “It was a place I needed.”
“Even now?”
“Even now.”
Seoryeong nodded. “If I need it, I will stay.”
Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. “And if you do not?”
Seoryeong did not hesitate at all. “I will leave.”
Hwarin smiled. Of course. This child was like that. “Do not say that in front of the Cheongseong Sect elders.”
“Why?”
“It will give them headaches.”
“You want me to lie?”
“I want you not to say it.”
“Difficult.”
“The murim is difficult to begin with.”
Seoryeong looked displeased, but nodded anyway. Not saying something. Was that different from lying? She did not know yet. But since Hwarin said it would give her headaches, she would remember. That night, Seoryeong fell asleep late. She dreamed. A red battlefield. Clearer than yesterday. Hooves trampling the ground. Spears clashing. Blood mixing with dirt. Black smoke rose into the sky. In the center stood a man. A man holding a massive spear-halberd. He was surrounded. Dozens. No, hundreds. Yet he was laughing. Madly. Joyfully. He swung the spear-halberd. Armor crumpled. Shields shattered. People flew. Seoryeong watched the scene and swallowed. She was not afraid. If anything, her heart raced. The man turned his head. His face was still blurry. But his eyes were visible. Red, fierce eyes. Eyes similar to hers. He spoke. Go to a wider place. Seoryeong heard those words. Find stronger opponents.
When she woke, it was dawn. The sound of a rooster crowing came from outside the inn. Someone was still snoring in the next room. Seoryeong got up and picked up her spear. The familiar weight in her hand. A weapon that was still insufficient. But for now, this was enough. Someday she would hold a heavier weapon. A weapon like the spear-halberd from her dream. One that would carve the earth when swung and crush both bones and weapons of those who tried to block it. Seoryeong took her spear and stepped outside the room. Hwarin was already in the yard. She stood without drawing her sword. Her red robes stood out vividly in the dawn mist. “You are up early.”
“I had a dream.”
“What kind?”
“A battlefield.”
Hwarin raised an eyebrow slightly. “Do you dream of it often?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you see there?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “Strong people.”
“Who?”
“I do not know. But it feels familiar.”
Hwarin did not ask further. There were many strange connections and strange constitutions in the murim. There were mad stories of remembering past lives and rumors of martial arts engraved in blood. But watching Jin Seoryeong, she thought those rumors might not be entirely nonsense. Hwarin spoke. “Let us loosen up before we go.”
Seoryeong’s eyes lit up. “Fight?”
“No.”
Seoryeong’s expression immediately died. Hwarin laughed. “Just basic movements.”
“Sounds boring.”
“If you want to get stronger, you have to do it.”
At those words, Seoryeong immediately took her stance. Hwarin inwardly admired her. She was difficult to handle, but her direction was simple. The single word “stronger” was enough to move her. Hwarin corrected Seoryeong’s foot placement. “Do not push with only strength. Your strength is abnormally good, but if you use it all head-on, you will be caught someday.”
“Why?”
“Because there are people who deflect.”
“Deflect?”
“They do not receive your strength and instead move it aside.”
Hwarin picked up a branch. “Thrust.”
Seoryeong thrust without hesitation. Fast and strong. But Hwarin’s branch moved lightly to the side. Seoryeong’s spear tip cut through empty air. At the same time, Hwarin’s branch tapped Seoryeong’s wrist. It stung. Seoryeong’s eyes widened. “Again.”
This time faster. But it missed again. Tap. Wrist. “Again.”
Third time. This time Seoryeong reduced her strength. She pretended to thrust straight, then slightly changed direction midway. Hwarin’s eyes widened a fraction. But the branch still moved. Thud. This time it was her shoulder. Seoryeong looked at the spot she had been hit. It did not hurt. But the feeling was strange. She had thrust with power, yet it had not connected. Hwarin smiled. “Did you learn?”
Seoryeong nodded. “Fun.”
“This?”
“Yeah.”
Seoryeong’s eyes gradually lit up. Hwarin smiled at the reaction. Of course. It was not because she hated losing. She enjoyed the sensation of learning itself. The process of a stronger opponent blocking her and her changing her movements to break through. That too was fighting to Seoryeong. Hwarin put the branch down. “That is enough for today.”
“Why?”
“If we continue, we will destroy the inn.”
Seoryeong looked at the yard. The dirt was indeed slightly dented. Hwarin pressed a hand to her forehead. “We are already late.”
The waiter opened the door and stepped out, then froze when he saw the yard. “Uh, the ground is more…”
Hwarin tossed him a coin. “For repairs.”
The waiter immediately bowed. “Thank you!”
Seoryeong watched and said, “Money is convenient.”
“That is why it is power.”
“Still, I like spears more.”
“I know that too.”
After breakfast, they set out again. Past the inn, the road grew wider. There were more people. It truly felt like they were entering the murim now. Seoryeong looked at every person on the road. As if searching for strong people. As if searching for opponents to fight. Hwarin spoke while watching her. “Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yeah.”
“Do not think that what you saw today is the entirety of the murim.”
“Okay.”
“The murim is wider, dirtier, noisier, and more dangerous.”
Seoryeong’s eyes sparkled. Hwarin sighed. “That is not an invitation to look forward to it.”
“A little exciting though.”
“I know.”
Hwarin looked ahead. Mountain peaks overlapped in the distance. Beyond them lay the Cheongseong Sect. An orthodox sect. A place that spoke of discipline, propriety, and chivalry. And now, heading there was a child who fit discipline the least. Hwarin suddenly felt like laughing. She could already picture the elders’ faces. Seoryeong asked, “Why are you laughing?”
“Because it will probably get interesting from now on.”
“Are there strong people?”
“There are.”
“Then I think it will be fun for me too.”
Hwarin shook her head. Yes. This child would probably turn the Cheongseong Sect upside down. At first it would be small disturbances. Breaking etiquette, sending opponents flying in sparring, wounding senior disciples’ pride, turning the elders’ stomachs. But that would only be the beginning. Jin Seoryeong would eventually leave the Cheongseong Sect as well. Into the wider jianghu where orthodox sects, unorthodox sects, and the Demonic Cult were entangled. And each time, some would fear her, some would covet her, and some would want to fight her. Hwarin thought of that future and smiled silently. Seoryeong adjusted her grip on her spear beside her. The road was widening. The wind carried unfamiliar scents. The smell of blood. The smell of alcohol. The smell of metal. And the smell of strong people. Seoryeong’s lips slowly curved upward. The murim might truly be an interesting place. She had realized it only a day after leaving her mountain village. The world was vast. There were many strong people. And she was still weak. That fact was incredibly enjoyable. Being weak was not an end. It was a beginning. It meant she could become stronger. It meant she could clash with more people. It meant that someday she could fight Hwarin, meet the elder from the inn again, and stand among countless strong people like in her dream battlefield. Jin Seoryeong smiled. It was a small, faint smile. But Hwarin saw it. And she thought that smile might someday shake the entire jianghu. Then Seoryeong asked, “Hwarin.”
“What.”
“Is it still far to the Cheongseong Sect?”
“Still far.”
“Then will we meet more strong people on the way?”
Hwarin thought for a moment. Then she smiled and answered. “With your personality, they will come to you even if you do not look for them.”
Seoryeong did not fully understand what that meant. But it did not sound bad. Strong people would come on their own. That was a good thing. So she nodded. “Nice.”
Hwarin ended up laughing loudly. Beyond the mountain path, the sun rose. A new road. New people. New fights. Jin Seoryeong’s first day in the murim was beginning like that.