The Black Wind Guest
When the door opened, sound, smell, and stares poured in all at once. Seoryeong paused for a moment. The inside of the inn was far hotter than outside. The breath and alcohol of the people filled the space between the walls and ceiling. The smell of meat fried in oil. The smell of dried fish being grilled. The thick scent of cloudy liquor spilling from cups. The earthy smell rising from wet straw sandals. Sweat. Blood. Iron. And beneath it all, deeply settled, the old scent of a martial artist.
Seoryeong naturally followed the scent with her eyes. Right corner of the inn. The seat farthest from the window. In the place where the light barely reached, a man sat. He had set down a black bamboo hat beside him and wore an old gray robe. There were no notable scars on his face. His eyes were half-closed. The hand holding the cup was loose. On the surface, he looked like a drunken wanderer. But the moment Seoryeong saw him, she knew.
Strong.
His scent was different from the others in the inn. Hidden beneath the alcohol, his breathing was deep. Even while seated, his center remained unbroken. There was no sword or saber at his waist, yet his fingertips were quiet like weapons. Those hands could snap a man's neck at any moment.
Seoryeong's eyes sparkled slightly. Hwarin, watching from beside her, spoke in a low voice.
"Don't look."
Seoryeong asked without turning her head.
"Why."
"It'll tire you out."
"He looks strong."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't look."
Seoryeong made a face that said she didn't understand. If there was a strong person, of course you looked. Yet Hwarin always told her not to look at strong people. It was strange. Wasn't the martial world a place you came to meet strong people?
The gazes inside the inn were also gathering on Seoryeong's group. Hwarin in red robes. The woman in blue with blood seeping from her shoulder. And the silver-haired girl with red eyes holding a spear. That combination could never be ordinary. A few people recognized Hwarin.
"Isn't that Cheongseong Sect's Hwarin?"
"Looks like it."
"The woman beside her seems injured."
"What's with that kid?"
"Silver hair, of all things."
"She's holding a spear."
The whispers spread. Hwarin, wearing a familiar expression, called the waiter.
"Two rooms. And food. Plenty of meat."
The last part was added after glancing at Seoryeong. Seoryeong nodded.
"A lot."
The waiter bowed with a dazed face.
"Y-yes. I'll prepare it right away."
Hwarin helped Yu Soha to a seat against the wall. It was a position where both the window and door were visible—the way martial artists chose their seats in an inn. Seoryeong didn't fully understand such things yet, but she vaguely grasped why Hwarin picked that spot. A place that protected their backs. A place from which they could see who entered. A place convenient for fighting. Not bad.
Seoryeong set her spear beside her and sat down. Yu Soha let out a small breath the moment she sat. Her face was pale. Hwarin checked the wound she had bound with cloth.
"The bleeding hasn't stopped yet."
Yu Soha forced a smile.
"I'm fine."
"That is not the face of someone who is fine."
Hwarin instructed the waiter to bring hot water, clean cloth, and alcohol. The waiter moved quickly, as if treating martial artists' wounds was nothing unusual. The innkeeper also approached cautiously.
"Should I call for a physician?"
Hwarin shook her head.
"If a physician moves after dark, it'll draw more attention. We'll handle it here."
"Understood."
The innkeeper asked no further questions. It was not a good habit to pry too deeply into martial artists' affairs.
Seoryeong looked at Yu Soha's wound. It was deep. The blade had torn a long gash across the upper shoulder. The blood was hot and thick. But it was not fatal. Her arm would be inconvenient for a while, yet with proper binding she would live. That was Seoryeong's judgment.
Then her eyes fell on the small wooden box Yu Soha held against her chest. A martial arts manual. The small chest that supposedly contained the method to become stronger. That was why the Black Death Room had come after her. That was why Yu Soha's master had died.
Seoryeong tilted her head at the box. Was the paper inside really that extraordinary? Paper that made people strong. That idea still felt strange to her. To her, strength was something left on the body. Calluses on the palms. Scars where torn flesh had healed. The instinct to dodge after being hit. The pain that made her grip her weapon tighter. The strength to endure one more time when breathing became difficult. That was strength.
Yet martial artists killed and died over words written on paper. Seoryeong found it odd. But also interesting.
Hwarin, noticing Seoryeong's gaze, spoke.
"I told you not to make that face."
Seoryeong asked immediately.
"Why."
"It's the look that says you want to open it."
"You're right."
Yu Soha's hands tightened around the wooden box. Hwarin pressed her fingers to her forehead.
"Should I take that honesty as a good thing?"
"Can't I look?"
"You cannot."
"Why."
"It's someone else's property."
Seoryeong thought for a moment.
"Then it's fine if the owner shows it?"
Yu Soha's shoulders flinched. Hwarin spoke firmly.
"We'll discuss that matter later."
Seoryeong nodded with a disappointed face. Later. She didn't like that word. But the smell of food was approaching, so it was bearable.
Soon the food arrived. Two plates of meat. Hot soup. Dumplings. Rice. Vegetables stir-fried in oil. And a bottle of alcohol. Hwarin pulled the bottle toward herself, while Seoryeong pulled the meat plates toward herself. Yu Soha couldn't properly hold her chopsticks because of her injury. Hwarin pushed rice and soup in front of her after treating the wound.
"Eat. If you've lost blood, you need to eat to endure."
Yu Soha bowed her head carefully.
"Thank you."
Seoryeong put meat in her mouth in the meantime. The greasy flavor spread across her tongue. The seasoning was a little strong, and it carried the scent of charcoal. It was different from the meat they ate in the village. The meat her mother grilled had been light and familiar, while the inn's meat was rough and salty. But it wasn't bad. After moving a lot, this kind of flavor was good too.
Seoryeong ate quickly. Hwarin, lifting her cup, spoke.
"Eat slowly."
"Why."
"You'll choke."
"I won't."
"I'm the one watching who'll choke."
Seoryeong pondered for a moment, then chewed one beat slower. Hwarin drank as if that was enough. Yu Soha watched their exchange and smiled awkwardly. Her face was still tense, but there was something oddly relaxing about watching Seoryeong focus on the meat. It was hard to believe this was the same girl who had driven back the Black Death Room martial artist moments ago.
Yu Soha asked carefully.
"Um… is Miss Jin a disciple of the Cheongseong Sect?"
Seoryeong lifted her head while chewing meat.
"No."
Hwarin explained in her place.
"We're taking her there."
"Is she planning to join?"
Hwarin hesitated for a moment.
"Probably."
Seoryeong tilted her head.
"Probably?"
"If you behave."
"What if I don't behave?"
"The elders will have headaches."
"Then I can't join?"
"It's possible."
Seoryeong thought for a moment.
"You said there are a lot of strong people there."
"There are."
"Then I'll join."
Yu Soha blinked at those words. Could the reason for joining a sect really be that simple? Not for honor, not for protection, not for teachings—just because there were many strong people. Hwarin wore a familiar expression.
"Yes. I hope that feeling lasts."
Seoryeong nodded seriously.
"Yeah."
At that moment, a low laugh came from the corner of the inn. It was the gray-robed man Seoryeong had sensed the moment she entered. He was setting down his cup. The sound was small, but it reached Seoryeong's ears clearly. Hwarin heard it too. Her gaze cooled slightly. A few martial artists in the inn also noticed the shift in atmosphere and glanced away.
The gray-robed man spoke slowly.
"It seems Cheongseong has been picking up interesting children lately."
Hwarin did not answer. Instead, she set down her cup.
"You seem to have a hobby of interrupting other people's meals."
The man laughed.
"I had no intention of interrupting. I simply heard because I have ears."
"If you have ears, you could also pretend not to hear."
"That becomes difficult with age."
Seoryeong watched the man while listening to their conversation. His tone was light, but his presence was not. Even while drinking, his breathing remained steady. His voice was loose, but his body was positioned to stand at any moment.
Strong.
Seoryeong stopped chewing and asked.
"Are you strong?"
The inn fell silent. Hwarin closed her eyes. Yu Soha swallowed. The gray-robed man stared at Seoryeong for a moment, then laughed.
"The child is quite honest."
"Are you strong?"
Seoryeong asked again. The man spun his cup with his fingers.
"If you attacked me right now, you'd probably be on the floor before three breaths."
Seoryeong's eyes sparkled.
"Compared to the old man at the inn?"
"The old man at the inn?"
"The old man I saw yesterday."
Hwarin cut in quietly.
"Seoryeong."
It meant to stop. But the gray-robed man looked intrigued.
"Did the old man you saw yesterday say he could take you down in three steps?"
"Yeah."
"Then that old man might be stronger than me."
Seoryeong looked slightly disappointed.
"Really?"
The man burst into laughter. The sound echoed low through the inn. Several martial artists held their breath. They seemed to know who he was. Hwarin finally narrowed her eyes.
"Could you be the Black Wind Guest, Senior No Jingang?"
The gray-robed man's laughter stopped.
"You recognize me."
The inn stirred. The Black Wind Guest, No Jingang. That name was not light. A wanderer who belonged to neither the orthodox nor the unorthodox factions. He sometimes escorted people for money, and sometimes abandoned clients he didn't like midway. In his youth, he had survived facing three unorthodox masters alone, and he had once made a name for himself clashing with the Demonic Cult's outer hall martial artists. A peculiar martial artist who fought with a black iron fan rather than a sword or saber. And above all, he was famous for his eccentric temperament.
Hwarin spoke carefully.
"I didn't expect to find you in a place like this."
No Jingang shrugged.
"When you get old, you can be anywhere. If there's food and drink, it's an inn."
Seoryeong barely listened to those words. Instead, she was looking at his hands. The iron fan. It was behind his waist. Though folded and not clearly visible, it carried the scent of iron. A heavy, cold smell.
Seoryeong asked.
"Do you fight with that?"
No Jingang followed her gaze to his waist.
"Good eyes."
"It smells."
"Smells?"
"Iron."
No Jingang's gaze shifted slightly. He reached behind his waist and pulled out the iron fan. He didn't open it. He simply placed it on the table. Yet a dull sound rang out.
Thud.
Even the sound carried weight. Seoryeong's eyes sparkled brighter.
"It's heavy."
"Not a child's toy."
"Can I hold it once?"
Hwarin spoke immediately.
"You cannot."
No Jingang asked with amusement.
"Why not?"
"Because it's Senior's belonging."
"I don't mind."
Hwarin's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Are you testing her?"
No Jingang laughed.
"Her eyes were sparkling so much. When old men see eyes like that, their hands get itchy for no reason."
Hwarin was firm.
"This child hasn't even arrived at the Cheongseong Sect yet."
"That's what makes it more fun."
Seoryeong looked between them.
"I can't hold it?"
Hwarin spoke to Seoryeong in a low voice.
"Picking up someone else's weapon carelessly is discourteous."
"But he said it's fine."
"That could also be a trap."
"A trap?"
"In the martial world, even what an opponent offers with a smile can be a trap."
Seoryeong looked at No Jingang.
"Is it a trap?"
No Jingang laughed again.
"Would you believe me if I said no?"
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Then she shook her head.
"I have to smell it to know."
No Jingang laughed loudly this time, genuinely. The tension in the inn eased slightly. But Hwarin's tension did not. Masters like No Jingang could turn a joke into a test in an instant. If the test was light, it was fortunate, but if the opponent couldn't endure, an arm could break. Especially Jin Seoryeong—she wouldn't avoid a test. She would charge in happily. That was the problem.
Then No Jingang's gaze turned to Yu Soha. More precisely, to the wooden box she held against her chest. Yu Soha's hands stiffened. Hwarin's eyes changed immediately.
"I would prefer you not take interest in that side."
No Jingang lifted his cup.
"I'm not interested."
"That's difficult to believe."
"It does smell like a manual, though."
Yu Soha's face turned pale. Several martial artists in the inn changed their expressions at those words. A manual. That single word was enough. The quiet air of the inn shifted subtly. Hands holding cups stopped. Mouths chewing meat slowed. Conversations broke off. Eyes flowed toward Yu Soha's chest.
Hwarin swallowed a curse inside. No Jingang had said it on purpose. Despite claiming no interest, he had thrown the word "manual" into the inn. Now it couldn't be hidden.
Seoryeong sensed the change in atmosphere and lifted her head. The air had shifted. It was different from before. People's breathing had become shallow. A few carried the scent of greed. Their pupils trembled, and their fingers moved closer to their weapons. Just one word—"manual"—and people changed. Seoryeong found it fascinating.
"Do you like manuals?"
she asked. Hwarin let out a small sigh. No Jingang laughed.
"Is there anyone in the martial world who doesn't?"
"Why."
"Because you can become stronger."
"You can just fight."
No Jingang's eyes narrowed.
"If fighting alone made you strong, the whole world would be masters."
"If you keep going without dying, you get stronger."
A strange silence fell over the inn. Someone let out a small, hollow laugh. Some thought it was madness, others thought it was a child's whim. But No Jingang did not laugh. He looked at Seoryeong quietly. Because those words were not entirely wrong.
Half the martial world clung to manuals, elixirs, and sect names. But the other half were the survivors. Those who had been hit, cut, endured, and not died. They grew strong even without words. Sometimes they became more dangerous than those who clung to letters.
No Jingang set down his cup.
"I wonder how long that will hold true."
Seoryeong spoke immediately.
"Want to try?"
Hwarin struck the table.
Thud.
"Jin Seoryeong."
Seoryeong looked at Hwarin.
"What."
"I told you to eat."
"Can I do it after eating?"
"No."
"Why."
"The inn will break."
Seoryeong looked around the inn. Tables. Chairs. Pillars. Wine jars. People. There were certainly many things that could break. She picked up meat again with a slightly disappointed face. No Jingang couldn't hold back his laughter.
"The Cheongseong Sect has quite the road of hardship ahead."
Hwarin answered quietly.
"We're already in the middle of it."
At that moment, the inn door opened again. Cold night air flowed in. People's gazes turned toward the door. Three people entered. They looked like ordinary travelers. One wore merchant's clothes, one was dressed like a porter, and the last hunched over like an old man wearing a worn hat. But the moment Seoryeong saw them enter, she stopped her chopsticks.
Their scent was strange. The merchant's clothes carried a faint fragrance, but beneath it was the smell of iron. The porter's hands were not the hands of someone who carried loads. The knuckles looked like they had gripped swords for a long time. The old man was hunched, but his footsteps were too light. And all three carried a very faint, identical scent.
Poison.
Seoryeong's eyes cooled. Hwarin noticed the change.
"What."
Seoryeong spoke very quietly.
"Black Death Room."
Hwarin's hand went to her sword hilt. Yu Soha's face turned white. No Jingang looked toward the door with his cup still in hand.
"They're fast."
The three people looked around the inn, pretending to find seats naturally. But their eyes brushed past Yu Soha's chest one by one. Even without No Jingang mentioning the manual, they had already come knowing.
Hwarin spoke quietly.
"Waiter."
The waiter approached with a tense face. Hwarin placed a silver coin on the table.
"Don't let the guests go upstairs. And tell the innkeeper there might be trouble soon, so stay back."
The waiter's face paled, but he nodded quickly. When martial artists fought, there was almost nothing an innkeeper could do. They could only pray the place didn't break too much.
Hwarin spoke to Yu Soha.
"Put the wooden box inside your robes and stand up."
Yu Soha placed the box inside her robes with trembling hands.
"Are we running away?"
"Not running. We're going upstairs."
"Won't we be trapped upstairs?"
"A trapped place is easier to defend."
Seoryeong put one more piece of meat in her mouth. Hwarin looked at her.
"Are you eating right now?"
"Fighting makes me hungry."
"The fact that that makes sense is even more annoying."
Seoryeong swallowed the meat and picked up her spear. No Jingang watched with a laugh.
"Want help?"
Hwarin looked at him.
"What's the price?"
"Price, huh."
No Jingang glanced at Seoryeong.
"How about letting me exchange blows with that child later?"
Hwarin's expression hardened. Seoryeong's eyes sparkled.
"Good."
Hwarin spoke immediately.
"Not good."
"Why."
"That's not for you to answer."
No Jingang spoke smoothly.
"The person herself said it's good."
"She's still a child."
"A child who put a Black Death Room martial artist in front of her neck?"
Hwarin couldn't answer. That was true. Seoryeong was a child who needed protection, yet she was already in the middle of the martial world's fights. That contradiction kept putting Hwarin in a difficult position.
At that moment, the man in merchant's clothes among the three stood up. He approached with a smile.
"Pardon me. I heard a story about someone injured on the road."
Hwarin spoke coldly.
"I haven't seen them."
"Is that so? Strange. I was told they definitely entered this inn."
"You must have heard wrong."
"That can't be."
The man in merchant's clothes was smiling, but his eyes were not. His hand moved inside his sleeve. Seoryeong raised her spear. The movement was sudden but without hesitation. The spear tip stopped in front of the merchant-clothed man's face. The inn froze.
Seoryeong spoke.
"Poison smell."
The man's smile stiffened.
"What do you mean?"
"Inside your sleeve."
Hwarin's sword was half-drawn. The man stopped smiling. At the same time, the porter and the old man in the back moved. Swords were drawn. Short, black blades. People in the inn screamed and backed away. Tables overturned and cups shattered. Hwarin's sword came fully out.
"Upstairs."
Yu Soha tried to stand, but staggered from her wound. Seoryeong stepped forward as she was. The merchant-clothed man scattered black needles from his sleeve.
Shhhk shhhk shhhk.
The small needles flashed in the candlelight. Seoryeong frowned. Poison again. Really not fun. She swung her spear shaft wide.
Whoosh.
Wind rose and the needles bounced sideways. A few embedded in a pillar. The pillar's surface turned black. The surrounding people screamed louder. Seoryeong kicked off the ground. The merchant-clothed man tried to retreat quickly but was too late.
Thud.
The spear shaft struck his chest. His body flew onto a table, shattering wine bowls. Seoryeong immediately turned. The man disguised as a porter thrust a sword from the side. This man was faster than the previous one. The short sword aimed for Seoryeong's side. Seoryeong didn't use the long spear. Close range. A long spear was disadvantageous. She hadn't learned it from Hwarin, but her body knew. She gripped the shaft short, pulled with her elbow, and struck the opponent's wrist with the back end.
Thwack.
The man's wrist dropped. The sword tip grazed Seoryeong's sleeve. Seoryeong took one more step in. She pushed with her shoulder.
Thud.
The man hit the wall. At the same time, the spear shaft pressed against his neck.
"You're weak too."
The man's face twisted.
"You monster…"
Before he finished, Seoryeong drove her knee into his stomach.
"Kuh!"
The man collapsed to the floor. Meanwhile, Hwarin was fighting the man disguised as an old man. When he straightened, he was not old at all. He was a lean middle-aged man. A thin flexible sword was in his hand. The blade curved like a snake. Hwarin's sword and the flexible sword clashed in the air.
Clang clang clang clang.
Short sparks flew in succession. The opponent was strong. Stronger than the Black Death Room martial artist they had met at the checkpoint. The sword came straight, then curved. When blocked, it slid along the wrist. Hwarin's gaze grew serious.
"There are some useful ones in the Black Death Room too."
The man didn't answer. The flexible sword curved low, aiming for Hwarin's thigh. Hwarin stepped back and pressed the side of the flexible sword with her sword tip. If she pushed with force, it would coil. Blocking head-on would only drag her along. So she didn't push—she pressed. The moment the flexible sword bent slightly, Hwarin's sword grazed the man's shoulder. Blood sprayed. The man didn't even blink. Instead, he dug deeper. Hwarin didn't retreat. She kicked a wine bottle on the table upward. The bottle flew toward the man's face. He split it with his flexible sword. Alcohol scattered through the air. In that moment, Hwarin entered between the droplets. Her sword tip aimed for the man's neck. The man leaned back urgently. But he couldn't completely avoid it. A red line appeared on the side of his neck.
Seoryeong was watching that scene. Hwarin fought well. She didn't clash with force head-on. When the opponent curved, she twisted more softly. When the opponent hid, she didn't wait—she pulled them out. That was different from the fights Seoryeong liked. But it was strong. Seoryeong acknowledged that.
At that moment, the merchant-clothed man, who had seemed fallen, pulled out something like a small tube from his robes. No Jingang lightly flicked his finger.
Thwack.
One chopstick on the table flew. It pierced straight through the back of the man's hand.
"Aaaagh!"
The tube fell to the floor. No Jingang remained seated. He hadn't even set down his cup. He spoke leisurely.
"You shouldn't use gunpowder in an inn. The innkeeper will cry."
The innkeeper already looked like he was about to cry. Seoryeong looked at No Jingang.
Strong.
With one chopstick, he had pierced the back of a hand. The movement was barely visible. Seoryeong's eyes grew hotter. No Jingang felt that gaze and laughed.
"What. Want to try?"
"Yeah."
"Later."
Seoryeong frowned.
"Everyone says later."
"To live long in the martial world, you need to know how to wait too."
"It's not fun."
"You'll learn that un-fun things exist too."
Meanwhile, Hwarin's fight ended. The flexible sword man hadn't retreated until the end, but ultimately Hwarin cut his wrist. The flexible sword fell to the floor. Hwarin's sword tip stopped in front of his neck.
"Who sent you?"
The man kept his mouth shut. Hwarin didn't press further. Instead, she looked at his jaw. The man tried to chew something. Hwarin struck his jaw with the hilt end.
Thwack.
A small pill flew out of his mouth. It was a poison pill. Hwarin's face hardened.
"They're thorough with silencing."
No Jingang spoke leisurely.
"The Black Death Room must be quite desperate."
Yu Soha leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. The wooden box was safe in her robes. But her face had grown paler.
"Because of me…"
Hwarin cut her off immediately.
"Save that talk for later. Right now, staying alive comes first."
Seoryeong looked down at the fallen men. All three were alive. One had fainted from a chest strike, one was curled up from a stomach strike, and the last had been subdued by Hwarin. Seoryeong felt slightly disappointed. It would have been fun to fight the flexible sword man. But Hwarin had taken him. That couldn't be helped.
While Seoryeong was thinking that, the innkeeper approached cautiously. His face was ashen. Broken tables. Shattered bottles. Scattered food. Poison needles embedded in pillars. Blood spilled on the floor. Business was over for the day.
Hwarin took out silver coins from her robes. No Jingang also placed one more on the table.
"Including the price of my chopsticks."
The innkeeper bowed his head as if about to cry.
"Thank you. Thank you."
Seoryeong watched and spoke.
"Money is convenient."
Hwarin answered with a tired face.
"That's why I said it's power."
"Still, I like the spear better."
"That much I understand now."
The Black Death Room men were tied up in the storage room behind the inn. Hwarin told the innkeeper not to let anyone near them. No Jingang sat with one leg crossed, receiving new alcohol. Most of the guests in the inn had either left or fled upstairs. Those who remained held their breath quietly. With the word "manual" mentioned and the Black Death Room appearing, ordinary people should have fled that night. But among martial artists, there were those who stayed when they saw danger. To obtain rumors. To watch for opportunities. Or to find their share in someone else's spilled blood.
Hwarin felt those gazes and hardened her expression.
"We won't be sleeping tonight."
Seoryeong lifted her head.
"Why."
"They might come again."
"Strong people?"
"Annoying people."
"Isn't that the same?"
"Completely different."
Seoryeong wore a face that said she didn't understand. Strong was fun, weak was boring. The standard for "annoying" was still unfamiliar. No Jingang laughed and spoke.
"The child's words are half right. Strong people are usually annoying."
Hwarin glared at him.
"Don't encourage her."
"Is there a need to encourage? She's already like firewood that's caught fire."
Seoryeong looked down at her own chest.
Firewood that's caught fire. She didn't really understand. But it was true that her body grew hot when fighting. Hwarin helped Yu Soha upstairs to the room. Seoryeong tried to follow. Then No Jingang spoke.
"Child."
Seoryeong turned around.
"What."
No Jingang tapped the folded iron fan with his finger.
"Who taught you that spear?"
"No one."
"Alone?"
"Yeah."
"While hunting?"
"Yeah."
"You fought people too."
"Yeah."
No Jingang looked quietly into Seoryeong's eyes. Those eyes didn't lie. They didn't hide memories either. They simply answered what was asked. That made it even stranger. Ordinary people knew how dangerous they were. The stronger they were, the more they hid it. The weaker they were, the more they exaggerated. But this child neither hid nor exaggerated. She didn't even know what kind of eyes she used to look at people with.
No Jingang spoke quietly.
"Someday you'll need to hold a proper weapon."
Seoryeong's eyes sparkled.
"A heavy one?"
"Yes. With your strength, a light spear will reach its limit quickly."
"There's one I saw in a dream."
Hwarin's steps stopped. No Jingang also looked intrigued.
"A dream?"
Seoryeong thought for a moment. A blood-soaked battlefield. Hoofbeats. A giant halberd. A smiling man. That face was still blurry. But the weapon was becoming clear. A long, heavy weapon that was both spear and axe, with blades extending on both sides. A weapon that crushed even those who tried to block it when swung. Seoryeong spoke.
"It's a spear, but not just a spear."
"A crescent blade?"
"No."
"A halberd?"
Seoryeong looked up at that word. Halberd. Strangely, her chest stirred slightly.
"Halberd."
No Jingang laughed with interest.
"Dreaming of a halberd, huh."
Hwarin spoke quietly.
"Seoryeong, let's go up."
Seoryeong wanted to ask more, but Hwarin's expression was firm. So she nodded.
"Yeah."
The upstairs room was small. Two beds, one small table, and an old window were all there was. Hwarin sat Yu Soha on the bed and checked her wound again. The bleeding had mostly stopped. But fever could rise. Hwarin ground herbs, applied them to the wound, and bound it with fresh cloth. Seoryeong sat by the window and looked outside. The back of the inn was dark. Tree shadows swayed. In the distance, at the end of the checkpoint road, several people were hurrying away. Some of them were people she had seen in the inn. They were probably going to spread rumors. Seoryeong didn't yet fully understand what that meant. Rumors. People passed words along. And because of those words, other people came. Hwarin had said so. Then would strong people come too? At that thought, Seoryeong felt a little excited. Hwarin saw her expression and spoke immediately.
"Don't think strange thoughts again."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"Your face already did."
Seoryeong touched her own face. The idea that a face could speak was still hard to understand. Yu Soha sat on the bed, looking down at the wooden box. She was silent for a long time. Then she carefully opened her mouth.
"Having this seems to put everyone in danger."
Hwarin didn't stop her hands as she bound the wound.
"So you've realized."
Yu Soha lowered her head.
"Should I throw it away?"
Hwarin didn't answer immediately. A manual didn't disappear just because you threw it away. Rather, a masterless manual called for more blood. Who picked it up first. Who hid it. Who took it. In that process, people died. Hwarin spoke.
"If you throw it away, someone will pick it up."
"Then burn it."
"We haven't even confirmed if it's truly something that should be burned."
"But because of this, people…"
Yu Soha's voice trembled. She was thinking of her master's death. The small sect. The vanished sect. The wooden box her master had entrusted at the end. Seoryeong didn't completely understand that emotion. But she saw Yu Soha's hands trembling. Hands shouldn't tremble when holding a weapon. If they trembled like that even when holding the wooden box, she would drop it. Seoryeong spoke.
"If you don't want it, give it to me."
The room fell silent. Hwarin slowly turned her head.
"Jin Seoryeong."
Seoryeong was serious.
"I can hold it."
Yu Soha looked at her with a flustered face.
"That's…"
Seoryeong spoke.
"If someone comes to take it, I'll fight them."
Hwarin pressed her fingers to her forehead.
"That's the biggest problem."
"Why."
"You'll be waiting for them to come take it."
Seoryeong thought for a moment. It was hard to deny. Strong people coming was good. If strong people came targeting the manual, that might be even better. But since Hwarin had a tired face, Seoryeong spoke honestly.
"A little."
Hwarin let out a deep sigh. Yu Soha, listening to their conversation, smiled for the first time—a very small smile. It was a sad and weary face, but the smile was definitely there.
"Miss Jin is… really strange."
Seoryeong nodded.
"I hear that a lot."
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"Why."
Yu Soha couldn't answer. When told she was strange, she asked why it should bother her, and Seoryeong wore a face that said why it should bother her. Hwarin spoke quietly.
"Such things are still difficult for this child."
"I see."
A quiet moment passed in the room. Downstairs, the sound of inn staff clearing broken tables and dishes could be heard. The tied-up Black Death Room martial artists groaned softly. Occasionally, No Jingang's voice could be heard joking with the waiter while drinking. Outside, the sound of night insects grew louder. Seoryeong listened by the window. Wind. Leaves. Horse breathing. Distant beasts moving. And very faint footsteps. Seoryeong's eyes sank slightly. One. Two. Three. No, more. They weren't surrounding the inn. They were watching from a distance. Hwarin also sensed the presence and approached the window.
"How many."
Seoryeong listened.
"Six. No, seven."
"Are they close?"
"Still far."
"Are they watching without being noticed?"
"Yeah."
Hwarin clicked her tongue.
"Surveillance has already been placed."
Yu Soha's face turned pale again. Seoryeong looked slightly expectant. Hwarin saw that face and spoke.
"Don't go out."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"Your face did again this time."
Seoryeong looked outside the window with disappointment. The watchers didn't approach easily. They might be weak, or they might be waiting. If they didn't come head-on, it wouldn't be fun. But there might be stronger people behind them. That thought was a little good. Hwarin looked around the room.
"I'll keep watch first tonight. Seoryeong, you sleep."
"I'm not sleepy."
"Lie down anyway."
"Why."
"We have to walk tomorrow."
"I'm fine."
"You're fine, but I'm tired."
Seoryeong thought for a moment at those words. Hwarin was tired. That was something she could understand a little. Hwarin had kept stopping her, treated Yu Soha, fought the Black Death Room, and paid the innkeeper. She had moved a lot. Seoryeong nodded.
"Then I'll sleep a little."
Hwarin looked surprised.
"You actually listen."
"If it's the right thing, I listen."
"Yes. It's been a while since I heard that, so I'm glad."
Seoryeong lay down on the bed. The spear was within reach. The smell of the room was unfamiliar. Blood. Herbs. Old bedding. The old paper smell from the wooden box. All those scents mixed together. Seoryeong closed her eyes. But sleep didn't come easily. Today's events repeated in her mind. The many people at the checkpoint. The trembling hands of the beggar child. The sound of a wrist breaking. Poison darts. The Black Death Room martial artist's fast sword. Poison powder. Yu Soha's wooden box. No Jingang's iron fan. The hand that pierced the back of a hand with a chopstick. And the word "halberd."
Halberd.
Seoryeong recalled that word in her mind once more. At that moment, the scent of the dream drew a little closer. A blood-soaked battlefield. Iron and blood. Horses screaming. Countless battle cries. A giant halberd. Seoryeong moved her fingers in her sleep. As if gripping that weapon. It would be heavy. Incomparable to her current spear. But someday she would be able to lift it. No—she had to lift it. What would it feel like to swing that weapon? The air splitting, the ground cracking, the feeling of even an opponent's sword being crushed along with its wielder. A very small smile formed on Seoryeong's lips.
Hwarin, sitting by the window, watched that sight. She smiles even while sleeping. Is she fighting even in her dreams? Hwarin let out a quiet sigh. And looked outside the window. The watchers in the darkness were still there. They didn't approach. They were targeting. The manual. Yu Soha. The Cheongseong Sect. And now Jin Seoryeong as well. The rumors would spread even farther tonight. Hwarin knew she couldn't stop it. Martial world rumors couldn't be cut down with a sword. They passed from mouth to mouth, from cup to cup, from inn to the next inn. By tomorrow morning, someone would say: Cheongseong Sect's Hwarin is heading to Cheongseong Mountain with a woman carrying a manual. Beside her is a silver-haired young spear wielder. That child detected poison by scent and drove back Black Death Room martial artists with a smile. Some would exaggerate. That child snapped people's wrists like twigs. That she blew away poison needles with wind from her spear. That she smiled at the sight of blood. Hwarin thought those exaggerations might someday create a monster larger than the truth. And the problem was that the real Jin Seoryeong was already monster enough.
The night deepened. Yu Soha fell asleep with her exhausted body. The wooden box in her arms remained held until the end. Seoryeong also fell asleep. But her hand stayed close to her spear. Hwarin didn't close her eyes. The first night watch was hers. Downstairs, No Jingang was quietly drinking. He also didn't seem to have any intention of sleeping. Perhaps he too knew. That tonight wasn't over yet.
But no attack came. The watchers only looked at the inn from afar. That was actually more uncomfortable. If they charged with swords, she could cut them down. If they used poison, she could avoid it. But those who waited called for different dangers. Larger groups. Stronger masters. More vicious schemes. Hwarin watched outside the window until dawn approached. When the eastern sky began to brighten faintly, Seoryeong opened her eyes. So suddenly that Hwarin asked first.
"You're awake?"
Seoryeong slowly sat up.
"I dreamed."
"The battlefield?"
Seoryeong nodded.
"Yeah."
"What did you see this time?"
Seoryeong looked down at her hands. She had been holding something in the dream. Clearly. It wasn't completely clear yet, but the weight remained in her palms.
"Halberd."
Hwarin was quiet for a moment. Seoryeong continued.
"I want to use that later."
"A halberd?"
"Yeah. A heavy one."
Hwarin looked at the dawn light outside the window. There weren't many in the Cheongseong Sect who primarily used spear techniques. Much less halberds. Perhaps the sect's training and Seoryeong's instincts were mismatched from the beginning. But strangely, Hwarin felt those words were natural. A spear suited Jin Seoryeong more than a sword. Something heavier and more violent than a spear suited her. A weapon that crushed opponents rather than cutting them with one swing. The battlefield weapon she had seen in her dream. Hwarin spoke quietly.
"When we arrive at the Cheongseong Sect, I'll speak to the Sect Leader."
Seoryeong's eyes brightened slightly.
"You have one?"
"There might not be."
"Then make one."
"It's not as easy as it sounds."
"I can make one with heavy wood first."
Hwarin let out a small laugh. Truly simple. But this child had lived that way. If it didn't exist, she carved wood. If it was insufficient, she made it heavier. If she didn't know, she learned with her body. That simplicity was sometimes ignorant, sometimes terrifyingly straightforward. Hwarin spoke.
"First, let's arrive alive."
Seoryeong nodded.
"Yeah."
Morning came. The horses tied in the inn yard all night snorted. The waiter was dozing while clearing broken tables, and the innkeeper was sighing while looking at the account book from dawn. The three Black Death Room martial artists were still alive, tied in the storage room. Hwarin decided to hand them over to the local military officer patrolling the checkpoint road. Of course, the likelihood that the military officer would properly handle the Black Death Room was low. They might release them for money or let them escape on the way. But what mattered now was not taking them to the Cheongseong Sect. It was safely bringing Yu Soha and the manual. And preventing Jin Seoryeong from fighting every person she met on the road. To Hwarin, the latter seemed the more difficult task.
Breakfast was simple. Porridge. Pickled vegetables. A few pieces of leftover meat. Seoryeong ate all the remaining meat. Yu Soha ate a little porridge and swallowed medicine. No Jingang was drinking tea instead of alcohol. He spoke while watching the group prepare to leave.
"If you're thinking of going to Cheongseong Mountain, you'd better change your route."
Hwarin looked at him.
"What's the reason?"
"There are too many eyes on the checkpoint road now. The Black Death Room, the riffraff who smelled the manual, curious wanderers—they'll all gather."
"So you're saying we should take the mountain path?"
"Taking the northern ridge will take an extra day, but there will be fewer people."
Hwarin thought for a moment. Fewer people didn't mean less danger. Rather, if attacked, there would be no one to help. But staying on the checkpoint road now could be more dangerous. The rumors had already spread. Yu Soha's body wasn't in good condition either. Seoryeong spoke from beside her.
"I like mountain paths."
Hwarin looked at her.
"Why."
"Wide roads have many people and are noisy."
"So?"
"Mountain paths have good smells."
"That's the reason?"
"Yeah."
No Jingang laughed.
"With this child's senses, the mountain path would indeed be better. She'll detect ambushes first too."
Hwarin didn't like it but couldn't deny it. Seoryeong really did have a high chance of detecting ambushes by scent. She nodded.
"We'll take the northern ridge."
Yu Soha spoke carefully.
"I'm sorry for making you take a detour because of me."
Hwarin answered shortly.
"You can apologize or thank me only if you're alive."
Seoryeong nodded at those words.
"Right. If you die, there's no next time."
Hwarin glanced at Seoryeong.
"You remember that."
"Yeah. To fight strong people again, I can't die."
Yu Soha smiled awkwardly, and No Jingang laughed loudly. Hwarin pressed her fingers to her forehead.
"Why do you always interpret good words strangely?"
"Is it wrong?"
"It's not wrong, but…"
That was the bigger problem. The group left the inn. Seoryeong paused at the door and looked back. The smell of blood and meat still mixed inside the inn. Last night's commotion remained on the walls and pillars. The spots where poison needles had been embedded had turned black, and the broken tables were piled on one side of the yard. This place would remain in her memory too. In the martial world, there were too many things to remember in a single day. Seoryeong turned her head. The path leading to the northern mountain trail was narrow and dark. There were many trees, and few human footprints. Instead, the smells of beasts and wet earth were strong. And far, very far away, the faint scent of last night's watchers followed. Seoryeong sensed it and slightly raised the corner of her mouth. Hwarin asked.
"Why are you smiling again?"
Seoryeong adjusted her grip on the spear.
"They're following."
Yu Soha's face hardened. Hwarin swallowed a low curse. No Jingang was still leaning against the inn door, watching them. He didn't follow. But the moment Seoryeong entered the mountain path, he muttered very quietly.
"A path with a child dreaming of a halberd and a manual in her arms."
He tucked the iron fan behind his waist.
"Cheongseong Mountain won't be quiet."
Seoryeong didn't hear those words. She had already entered the mountain path. The path narrowed again. The noisy smells of the checkpoint road were pushed behind. Ahead were trees, earth, and wind. And hidden within them, the smell of blood. Seoryeong drew in a breath.
Good.
The martial world was truly strange. The weak beat the weaker. Those who used poison gathered. A single small wooden box drove people mad. Strong people drank and laughed. But amid all of it, Seoryeong was becoming increasingly certain. She needed to become stronger. She needed to lift heavier weapons. She needed to block faster swords. She needed to avoid more vicious poisons. She needed to face stronger people. And someday, she needed to stand in the middle of the battlefield from her dreams. Just that thought made her steps lighter. Hwarin spoke quietly while watching Seoryeong beside her.
"Jin Seoryeong."
"Yeah."
"From today, you need to be more careful."
"Why."
"Now there are people watching you."
Seoryeong tilted her head.
"Me?"
"Yes. There will be those targeting the manual, but there will also be those taking interest in you."
"Why."
"Because children like you aren't common."
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Then she spoke.
"Then will strong people come too?"
Hwarin wore a face that said she didn't want to answer. But she couldn't lie.
"They might."
Seoryeong nodded with satisfaction.
"Good."
Hwarin let out a long sigh.
"Not good at all."
Seoryeong didn't understand. But she felt good. Morning sunlight slanted down over the mountain path. Light scattered between the leaves. Yu Soha walked carefully, holding her injured shoulder, while Hwarin watched the surroundings beside her. Seoryeong walked at the very front. Spear resting on her shoulder. Smelling the scents in the wind. Sensing the presence of those following. And thinking of the strong people she hadn't met yet. The martial world's path had narrowed, but the world had grown wider. Jin Seoryeong liked that. Very much.