Before Dawn
Before dawn, the mountain village grew quiet once more. But this silence was different from the night before. When they had first entered, the quiet had been one of held breath and fear—doors bolted, lamps dimmed, bodies flinching at every footstep outside. Yet after Sawoldo’s men were bound, the fire arrows extinguished, and the villagers began emerging one by one from the storage cave, the texture of the air shifted. Fear still lingered. It could not vanish overnight in a village that had been touched by martial artists. A small lamp had been placed before the village chief’s son’s grave, flickering thinly in the night wind. People still spoke only in low voices. Children hid behind their mothers’ skirts and stole glances at Seoryeong. Young men looked toward the shed where Sawoldo’s group was tied, their faces a mix of shame and relief. At least no one else had died that night. No houses had burned. That single fact loosened the village’s breath a little.
Seoryeong sat outside the shed. The ebony pole rested across her knees. The broken tip of her old spear was tied at her lower back. She had not slept much. Not because she was not tired—she was. She had walked mountain paths, traded three blows with Mak Cheol, fought Sawoldo, and breathed unfamiliar scents all night. Her body wanted rest. But her mind would not quiet.
Broken spear. Iron halberd. Ebony pole. Sawoldo’s saber. A child’s laugh. Hwarin’s words about protecting the village. The moment Hwarin had answered “perhaps” when Seoryeong asked if this, too, counted as growing stronger. All of it tangled together.
Seoryeong slowly ran her fingers along the ebony pole. Scars from a blade marked its surface—traces left by Sawoldo’s saber. The wood was hard. Her old spear would have been deeply cut or split outright. But the ebony pole had held. It had no edge and was blunt for thrusting, yet it could strike, press, and push. Exactly as Mak Cheol had said: use it for striking and shoving rather than thrusting.
Seoryeong recalled his words again. At first the lack of a spearhead had felt strange, but during the fight with Sawoldo the ebony pole had fit her hands better than expected. The sensation of pressing down on the saber’s tip. The solid weight when it struck an opponent’s wrist. The vibration that traveled up her palm when she finally sent the saber flying. Not bad. In fact, good. But still insufficient. The ebony pole was temporary. What she truly wanted was something heavier, longer, and sharper. A halberd. The weapon she had seen in her dreams. When she first saw Mak Cheol’s iron halberd, she had felt, for the first time, that dream and reality overlapped slightly. Not completely the same, yet close. She had felt with her body, in just three exchanges, how a weapon’s weight changed a person’s movement, pressed down on strength, and stole an opponent’s balance. The memory of having moved Mak Cheol’s foot even a fraction remained.
She had lost. Completely lost. Her spear had broken. Yet the feeling was not unpleasant. Next time she might push him further. If she ever held a proper halberd and clashed with him again, she might make him retreat not just a little, but one step, two steps—perhaps even more.
At that thought, a tiny smile touched Seoryeong’s lips.
“Smiling again.”
It was Hwarin’s voice. Seoryeong turned her head. Hwarin stood leaning against the shed doorway. She looked as though she had barely slept. Shadows lay beneath her eyes, and dried dirt and blood stained the hem of her red robes. Still, her posture remained unbroken. The sword at her waist sat ready to be drawn at any moment.
Seoryeong asked, “Didn’t sleep?”
“A little.”
“Tired?”
Hwarin studied Seoryeong for a moment. The question itself felt slightly unfamiliar coming from her. She gave a small laugh. “I am tired.”
“Then sleep.”
“If only I could.”
“Why can’t you?”
“There’s still Sawoldo’s group to deal with, Yu Soha’s condition to check, making sure the villagers don’t get dragged in again, and we need to move quickly ourselves.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. There was much to do. Hwarin always had much to do. It was not only fighting. She spoke, decided, treated wounds, paid money, hid people, bound captives, and chose paths. Seoryeong still found these things somewhat unfamiliar. In the martial world, it seemed fighting was not the only important thing.
She lifted the ebony pole. “I can hit things.”
Hwarin could not hold back her laughter. “Yes. That much I believe.”
“The rest is still hard.”
Hwarin’s smile softened. “I know. But you did well yesterday.”
“Protecting the village?”
“Yes.”
Seoryeong looked toward the village. Dawn had not yet broken, yet faint sounds of movement came from several houses. The people had probably not slept. After burying the dead, enemies had returned, and martial artists had fought at the village entrance. Few could rest easily after such a night.
Seoryeong recalled the child’s small laugh and the voice that had asked if she had hit hard. That laugh still lingered in her hands. It was not the same burning heat she felt when defeating a strong opponent, yet it remained longer.
Seoryeong said, “It felt strange.”
“What did?”
“When that child laughed, it felt a little all right.”
Hwarin was silent for a while. Seoryeong was truly learning slowly—the difference between knocking someone down and protecting someone, the heat of battle and the breath after battle, the fact that strength was not only about crushing an opponent. She could not yet put it all into words, but she was feeling it bit by bit with her body.
Hwarin spoke quietly. “Don’t forget that.”
“Why?”
“Because someday, when you grow too hot, something like that might hold you back.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. “Grow hot?”
“When fighting.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“If you grow too hot, everything around you burns.”
Seoryeong thought for a long time. Fire. Mak Cheol had said something similar—that she must be able to hold the mad fire inside her when a weapon made it burn brighter. Hwarin said something similar as well. Then there truly seemed to be something like fire within her.
Seoryeong placed a hand over her chest. It was quiet now. But it grew hot when she saw strong people. When a fight that felt like death drew near, blood quickened from her fingertips. She had to hold it. How?
Seoryeong said, “It’s hard.”
Hwarin nodded. “Yes. It is difficult.”
“Then I’ll have to learn.”
Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. The answer was better than expected. “Correct.”
“If it’s correct, I’ll listen.”
“Yes. That one thing about you is quite likable.”
Seoryeong took it as praise.
Just then, Yu Soha gave a small cough from inside the shed. Hwarin went straight in. Seoryeong followed.
Yu Soha sat leaning against a pile of straw. Her face was still pale, yet she looked slightly better than the night before. Fever still lingered. The wooden box remained in her arms. She had not let go of it even while sleeping.
Hwarin touched her forehead. “Your fever has gone down a little.”
Yu Soha smiled weakly. “That’s a relief.”
“It is, but if you push yourself walking again today, it will rise once more.”
Yu Soha lowered her head. “Still, we have to go, don’t we?”
Hwarin did not answer. She was right. They had to go. They could not stay long in this village. Sawoldo’s group was bound, but she did not know how far the line they belonged to extended. The scent of incense and cold metal Seoryeong had smelled the previous night had not completely disappeared either. Someone was moving from afar. And that someone carried a different scent from Sawoldo’s.
Hwarin re-tied Yu Soha’s bandages. “The villagers said they would prepare a little breakfast. We’ll eat and leave right away.”
“Yes.”
Yu Soha looked at Seoryeong. “Yesterday…… thank you.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. “For what?”
“You protected both the village and me.”
“I didn’t like Sawoldo.”
“Even so.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. Receiving thanks still felt unfamiliar. When the child had received the sweets, he had said thank you, and Yu Soha had thanked her several times as well. She did not know what reply to give. So she simply said, “Mm.”
Yu Soha gave a small laugh. That answer, too, was becoming a little familiar.
When dawn broke, the villagers began moving cautiously. Someone drew water from the well; someone else brought the children up from the storage cave. The village chief was an old man. He stood for a long time before his son’s grave, then approached Hwarin’s group. His face looked as though it had aged further overnight. Yet his gaze had settled slightly compared to the day before.
“Thanks to you, the village survived.”
Hwarin clasped her hands in greeting. “We also brought danger upon you.”
The chief shook his head. “Those men in black came even before you arrived. They simply did not return, but we could never have stopped them ourselves.”
Hwarin did not reply. Those words brought no comfort. Yet she could not deny them either.
The chief looked at Seoryeong. At first his eyes held a trace of fear, but soon he slowly bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Seoryeong regarded him awkwardly. The chief’s son had died. It was not because she had arrived late. Yet it was true that he had died because of people searching for them. Seoryeong did not know what to say.
Just then, a child from the well ran over. His mother tried to stop him, but he reached Seoryeong first. He held a small cloth bundle.
“Big sister.”
Seoryeong looked down at him. “What?”
The child held out the bundle. “Potatoes.”
“Potatoes?”
“Eat them.”
Inside the cloth were several boiled potatoes, still warm. Seoryeong looked at them. They smelled of potato. A little salt had been sprinkled on them as well.
She looked at the child. “Is it all right to give them to me?”
The child nodded. “Yes. You hit him hard, after all.”
Seoryeong watched the child for a moment, then picked up one potato. It was warm. She took a bite. It was mild and soft. It did not have the strong taste of meat, yet it warmed her inside.
“Tasty.”
The child beamed. Seeing that smile, Seoryeong gave a small nod as well.
Hwarin watched the scene quietly. Yu Soha did the same.
Seoryeong wrapped the remaining potatoes back in the cloth and tucked them into her robe. Hwarin chuckled. “Saving them this time?”
“Mm.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re tasty.”
“Usually when something’s tasty, you eat it right away.”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “It’s better to eat them later when you’re hungry.”
“You’ve learned a little.”
“Mm.”
After a brief breakfast, the group prepared to depart. Sawoldo’s men had been tightly bound again with ropes the villagers provided. Hwarin explained that the proper course was to hand them over to the nearest government office or patrol, but the villagers were afraid. If men like Sawoldo were released, retaliation would surely follow. In the end, Hwarin used a technique to temporarily seal Sawoldo’s dantian. It was not a complete disablement, but it would prevent him from properly circulating his inner energy for several days.
Sawoldo ground his teeth. “Is the Cheongseong Sect still orthodox after doing this?”
Hwarin answered coldly, “Why don’t you say that to the village chief’s son you killed?”
Sawoldo fell silent. Seoryeong looked at him. His mouth was swollen where teeth had been broken. He was far quieter than the day before. Seoryeong felt satisfied. Noisy people were better when quiet.
Before leaving the village, Hwarin spoke to the chief. “A merchant caravan heading south along the official road may pass through today. Send someone to request their help. Do not untie Sawoldo’s group yourselves.”
The chief bowed. “Understood.”
“And if the martial artists in black return, do not fight. Hide.”
“Yes.”
Seoryeong looked at the child. He stood behind his mother and waved. Seoryeong raised her hand once as well. She thought she understood a little now that this was a greeting.
The group entered the mountain path once more. The smell of village smoke gradually faded. In its place, the scent of the mountains grew thick again. Seoryeong touched the cloth bundle of potatoes inside her robe. The warmth had cooled slightly, yet it remained. The feeling was strangely not unpleasant.
Hwarin spoke from beside her. “What’s so fascinating?”
“I received potatoes.”
“I saw.”
“Why did they give them?”
“Probably because they’re grateful.”
“Because I hit him hard?”
“From that child’s perspective, yes.”
Seoryeong nodded. She had hit hard. The village had survived. She had received potatoes. This relationship seemed simple yet strange. Defeating a strong person was enjoyable. Yet protecting weak people brought potatoes. And those potatoes were tasty. Seoryeong liked that conclusion.
Watching Seoryeong’s expression, Hwarin felt a strange unease. Surely this child was not thinking she would hit people just to receive potatoes in the future. She spoke carefully. “We don’t fight to receive potatoes.”
Seoryeong looked at her oddly. “I know that.”
Hwarin felt relieved. “That’s good.”
“I like meat more.”
Hwarin pressed a hand to her forehead. She felt foolish for having felt relieved. Yu Soha laughed quietly from behind. The laugh pulled at her wounds and made her grimace, yet she still laughed.
The path continued through the morning. Because of Yu Soha’s condition, their pace was not fast. Yet it was more stable than the day before. Seoryeong kept smelling the air ahead. The scent of incense and cold metal she had detected the previous night remained distant. It neither drew closer nor completely disappeared. That bothered her more. It neither approached to fight nor withdrew. It simply maintained the same distance, as though waiting for an opponent’s move.
Hwarin’s expression hardened upon hearing this. “Persistent.”
Seoryeong asked, “Strong?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“The scent is cold.”
“Cold?”
“Mm. Different from Sawoldo. Sawoldo’s scent of blood was noisy.”
Hwarin mulled over Seoryeong’s phrasing. A noisy scent of blood. It was an odd expression, yet somehow understandable. People like Sawoldo did not hide their killing intent. They enjoyed intimidating, shaking, and threatening others. His presence would have been rough and filthy. By contrast, the one following now was cold. They hid, waited, and calculated. Such a person could be more dangerous.
“You said there was a scent of incense.”
“Mm.”
“Medicine?”
“No. It’s like flowers, or like a temple.”
“Incense.”
Hwarin’s gaze darkened slightly. A martial artist who used incense. Poison incense. Mihonhyang. Or perhaps temple-style incense techniques. There were too many possibilities. Both orthodox and unorthodox sects had those who used incense. It could be decorative incense worn by women, but if Seoryeong remembered it alongside the scent of cold metal, it was unlikely to be ordinary perfume.
Yu Soha asked cautiously, “Could it possibly…… be someone from the orthodox sects?”
Hwarin hesitated. “It’s possible.”
Confusion crossed Yu Soha’s face. “If they’re orthodox, wouldn’t they help us?”
Hwarin gave a bitter smile. “Not everyone in the orthodox sects thinks alike.”
Seoryeong heard this. Orthodox sects. Places like the Cheongseong Sect. Hwarin’s home. Places that spoke of chivalry and rules. Yet not all orthodox people helped. Seoryeong asked, “Are there bad people in the orthodox sects too?”
Hwarin thought for a moment. “There are.”
“Then why are they orthodox?”
It was a simple yet sharp question. Hwarin could not answer immediately. Sect names. Traditions. The chivalry they outwardly proclaimed. Affiliation. Justification. Those things made people call someone orthodox. Yet not everyone within was upright and righteous.
Hwarin spoke honestly. “Just because the name is that way doesn’t mean the heart always follows.”
Seoryeong frowned slightly. “Strange.”
“Yes. The martial world is strange.”
“Are unorthodox people bad?”
“Generally dangerous. But even among them there are those who repay kindness.”
“Are orthodox people good?”
“They generally try to appear that way. But there are also greedy people.”
Seoryeong frowned more deeply. “Complicated.”
“That’s why I told you not to believe only in visible names.”
“Then what do you believe?”
Hwarin repeated what she had said before. “Your senses. And what you’ve directly clashed with.”
Seoryeong nodded. She liked that answer. Whether orthodox or unorthodox, strong or weak, liked or disliked—she could tell by clashing directly. Of course, Hwarin had not meant for her to judge people by hitting them all, but Seoryeong accepted it that way for now.
Seeing Seoryeong’s expression, Hwarin quickly added, “That doesn’t mean you should try hitting everyone.”
Seoryeong looked slightly disappointed. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Hard.”
Yu Soha finally could not hold back her laughter. Even amid the tension of the mountain path, a brief laugh escaped. Yet it did not last long.
Around noon, a clear bell-like sound came from ahead on the path. Ding. Ding.
Seoryeong stopped walking. Hwarin stopped at once as well. The sound rode the wind. Small and clear. It could have been an animal’s bell or a traveler’s ornament. But hearing it in the middle of a mountain path felt too regular.
Seoryeong moved her nose. The scent of incense. It had drawn a little closer. The scent of cold metal came with it.
“They’re here.”
Hwarin’s hand went to her sword hilt. Yu Soha clutched the wooden box to her chest.
The bell sound grew nearer. Through the trees, white robes appeared. Soon a woman revealed herself. She looked to be in her early thirties. She wore robes of white mixed with pale gray, and a slender sword hung at her waist. Her hair was neatly tied, and her steps were quiet. A small silver bell was tied to her ankle. With each step it rang ding.
It was strange. She was someone who could walk quietly enough. Yet she deliberately made sound. It could be a sign that she was not hiding, or it could be confidence.
Seoryeong looked at her. Strong. Far more refined than Sawoldo. Not as heavy as Mak Cheol. Not as loose as No Jingang. There was a different kind of sharpness from Hwarin’s. Cold and thin. Like a needle.
The woman stopped and clasped her hands in greeting. “Are you Hwarin of the Cheongseong Sect?”
Hwarin returned the greeting while remaining on guard. “I am.”
“I am Seol Hajin of the Baekryeon Sword Sect.”
Hwarin’s gaze shifted slightly. The Baekryeon Sword Sect. An orthodox sect. Not as large as the Cheongseong Sect, but known for delicate sword techniques and strict etiquette. Especially known for valuing the sect’s honor and harboring extreme aversion toward unorthodox martial arts.
Hwarin spoke carefully. “What brings someone from the Baekryeon Sword Sect to this mountain path?”
Seol Hajin’s eyes turned to Yu Soha. More precisely, to the box in her arms.
“I heard the Hyeol-un-pal-sik has appeared in the martial world once more.”
Yu Soha’s face stiffened. Hwarin did not answer.
Seol Hajin spoke calmly. “That item does not need to be taken all the way to the Cheongseong Sect. Hand it over to us here.”
The air grew cold.
Seoryeong looked at Seol Hajin. Her tone was different from Sawoldo’s. She did not curse, sneer, or threaten to burn the village. Yet what she demanded was the same. Hand over the manual.
Hwarin narrowed her eyes. “Why does the Baekryeon Sword Sect demand the Hyeol-un-pal-sik?”
“Unorthodox evil arts must not remain in the world. We will retrieve and seal it.”
“You may entrust it to the Cheongseong Sect.”
“The Cheongseong Sect is late.”
Seol Hajin’s voice was cold. “Rumors have already spread. The Black Snake Chamber, wanderers, assassins, and remnants of unorthodox sects are moving. We do not know how much more blood will flow before you reach the Cheongseong Sect.”
Hwarin could not answer. Those words were not wrong. Blood had already flowed. Yu Soha’s sect had been destroyed, the village chief’s son had died, and ambushers, assassins, and Sawoldo had moved along the path. The road to the Cheongseong Sect was not yet finished. Yet that did not mean handing it over to the Baekryeon Sword Sect was the correct answer.
Hwarin said, “I cannot make that judgment. This item was entrusted by Lady Yu Soha’s master to be delivered to the Cheongseong Sect. We are carrying out that will.”
Seol Hajin’s gaze turned to Yu Soha. “Lady Yu Soha.”
Yu Soha’s body stiffened. “Yes.”
“Many people have already died because of that item. Your decision to carry it all the way to the Cheongseong Sect puts even more people in danger.”
Yu Soha’s face grew pale. Those words struck the part she feared most. People died because of her. Because she carried the manual, pursuers followed and villagers became involved.
Hwarin immediately cut in. “Do not push her that way.”
Seol Hajin did not blink. “I merely spoke the truth.”
Seoryeong looked at Seol Hajin. The truth. The words seemed correct. Yu Soha carried the manual, so people followed. Yet something felt off. Sawoldo had also touched the weak. Seol Hajin touched Yu Soha with words. She had not drawn her sword, yet Yu Soha’s breath wavered. Seoryeong did not like that.
“Don’t talk like that.”
Seol Hajin’s eyes turned to Seoryeong. “So you’re the rumored child.”
Seoryeong did not answer.
Seol Hajin looked at the ebony pole in Seoryeong’s hands and the broken spear tip tied at her waist. “They said you were a silver-haired spear wielder, yet now you carry a staff.”
“Mm.”
“Do you also know what kind of martial art the Hyeol-un-pal-sik is?”
“The one that makes blood come out?”
Hwarin closed her eyes. Seol Hajin seemed momentarily at a loss for words. But soon she spoke with a cold face. “It is a martial art that drives people mad with bloodlust. Such a thing must not remain by your side.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. “Why?”
“It is especially dangerous for a child like you who is drawn to fighting.”
Hwarin’s expression hardened. Those words were correct. Yet she did not like the way Seol Hajin said them. It was as though she already viewed Seoryeong as a dangerous object.
Seol Hajin continued. “Hwarin of the Cheongseong Sect, it would be best to send that child to the Baekryeon Sword Sect as well.”
Hwarin’s gaze turned cold in an instant. “What do you mean?”
“Uncontrolled talent becomes a calamity. It is not right to keep such a child near the Hyeol-un-pal-sik.”
Seoryeong listened quietly. They were talking about her. Uncontrolled talent. Calamity. Difficult words, yet they did not feel pleasant.
Hwarin spoke lowly. “Watch your words.”
Seol Hajin remained calm. “I speak in the name of the orthodox sects. Dangerous things must be stopped.”
Seoryeong asked Seol Hajin, “Am I dangerous?”
Seol Hajin did not hesitate. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“You like fighting. You are insensitive to killing intent, charge at strong opponents, and show curiosity even toward unorthodox blood-scented martial arts. If such a child touches the Hyeol-un-pal-sik, what do you think will happen?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. The words were long, yet she understood the point. That she was dangerous. That she would become more dangerous if she saw the Hyeol-un-pal-sik. Therefore, they would take her away.
“I don’t want to.”
Seoryeong spoke briefly. Seol Hajin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That is not for you to decide.”
“Why?”
“Because you are young.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. Young. Correct. She was young. Yet in fighting, the word “young” held little meaning. A blade did not cut less because it was young. Poison did not spread less because it was young. Strong people did not go easy because someone was young. And she had already fought on the road. She had faced weaklings, the Black Snake Chamber, assassins, and Sawoldo. Yet now they said it was not for her to decide because she was young. Seoryeong found that strange.
“Are you strong?”
This time Hwarin did not stop her.
Seol Hajin looked at Seoryeong. “Stronger than you.”
Seoryeong’s eyes gleamed slightly. Hwarin immediately grabbed Seoryeong’s shoulder. “Don’t like it.”
“I liked it a little.”
“Not now.”
Seeing this, Seol Hajin frowned. “Look. That reaction is precisely the proof that she is dangerous.”
Hwarin’s voice lowered. “I will take that child to the Cheongseong Sect.”
“Do you believe the Cheongseong Sect can handle her?”
“That is not for the Baekryeon Sword Sect to judge.”
“It is a matter for the entire orthodox alliance.”
“Do not try to take someone else’s person with such grand words.”
Seol Hajin’s gaze grew cold. “Someone else’s person.”
Hwarin realized in that moment what she had said. Yet she did not correct it.
Seoryeong looked at Hwarin upon hearing those words. Someone else’s person. Was she Hwarin’s person? Not a Cheongseong Sect person, not a disciple, not anything yet. Yet Hwarin had said that. Seoryeong felt a strange sensation. She did not dislike it.
Seol Hajin placed a hand on her sword hilt. “Then there is no choice.”
Hwarin also drew her sword. “Do you truly intend to cross blades between orthodox sects?”
“It is better than leaving evil arts unattended.”
Yu Soha spoke in a trembling voice. “Please stop. If…… if I just hand it over……”
Hwarin spoke firmly. “No.”
Seol Hajin looked at Yu Soha. “Judge wisely. If you continue to carry it, more people will die.”
Yu Soha’s hands trembled. Seoryeong saw that trembling. Again. She struck with words. Yu Soha had not been cut by a blade, yet her breath collapsed. Seoryeong stepped forward. “I told you not to.”
Seol Hajin looked at her with cold eyes. “Stand back.”
“No.”
“You will be hurt if you step forward.”
Seoryeong raised the ebony pole. “Then I’ll learn.”
Hwarin spoke lowly. “Seoryeong.”
Seoryeong looked at Hwarin. “We can’t fight?”
Hwarin found it difficult to answer. The opponent was orthodox. A person of the Baekryeon Sword Sect. Causing serious injury here would create major problems. Yet Seol Hajin would not back down. And Seoryeong had stepped forward to protect Yu Soha. It was not right to stop her unconditionally either.
Hwarin finally said, “Do not kill. Do not injure her seriously either.”
Seoryeong nodded. “Mm.”
Displeasure crossed Seol Hajin’s face. “You intend to send that child out?”
Hwarin spoke without lowering her sword. “That child said she would stand on her own.”
“A dangerous judgment.”
“Forcibly taking that judgment away is also dangerous.”
Seol Hajin said no more. The silver bell rang once. Ding. With that sound, her sword was drawn. It was a long, slender blade. A faint blue aura shimmered beneath the daylight, not moonlight.
Seoryeong gripped the ebony pole with both hands. The opponent was strong. Different from Sawoldo. Less scent of blood, yet sharp. No scent of poison either. But there was the scent of incense. That incense did not come from the sword, but from Seol Hajin’s robes and wrists. Seoryeong remembered it.
Seol Hajin moved first. Her sword did not appear fast. Rather, it resembled water flowing slowly. But the next moment the sword tip was before Seoryeong’s wrist.
Seoryeong raised the ebony pole to block. Clang. The slender sword and ebony pole collided. The sound was small. Almost no force could be felt. Yet the inside of her wrist tingled. The sword tip slid along the ebony pole and aimed for her fingers.
Seoryeong instinctively switched hands. The sword grazed her fingertips and passed. A drop of blood fell.
Seoryeong’s gaze changed. Fast. No—thin. It did not clash with force. It entered through gaps. Seol Hajin spoke. “Strength alone will not suffice.”
Seoryeong did not answer. She swung the ebony pole widely. Whoosh. Air was pushed aside. Seol Hajin did not receive it head-on. The silver bell at her ankle rang ding. Her body slid sideways. The ebony pole cut through empty air.
The sword tip entered again. This time toward her shoulder. Seoryeong twisted her body to avoid it, yet her robe hem split. Seol Hajin’s sword did not thrust deeply. It grazed shallowly, interrupted movement, and targeted wrists, shoulders, and knees. It was not a sword meant to kill. It was a sword meant to subdue. Yet that was more irritating. It did not clash head-on. It was not as filthy as Sawoldo’s. It did not use poison. Yet it kept blocking her movement, cutting shallowly, and breaking her flow.
Seoryeong frowned. “Frustrating.”
Seol Hajin spoke coldly. “That frustration is your limit.”
Seoryeong stood the ebony pole upright. Limit. Not a good word. Yet not a wrong word either. She had lost to Mak Cheol as well. She could not properly handle Seol Hajin’s sword either. The heavy ebony pole had been good against opponents who used sabers like Sawoldo. Yet against a sword that seeped in thinly and quickly like Seol Hajin’s, it was slow.
Then what should she do?
Seoryeong took a step back. Hwarin’s eyes widened slightly. Seoryeong had retreated first. She had not charged blindly. She was thinking.
Seol Hajin noticed as well. “So you do make judgments, even if late.”
Seoryeong looked at Seol Hajin. She did not like the words. Yet now she had to look at the sword rather than words. Scent of incense. Sound of the silver bell. Movement of feet. The thin line of the sword tip.
Seol Hajin did not hide the bell at her ankle. It rang with every step. Yet that sound was itself a deception. The bell’s sound and the actual position of her foot differed slightly. When the bell rang, her foot was already at the next position. If one believed the sound, one would be late.
Seoryeong pushed the bell sound slightly from her ears. Instead, she grasped the scent. Incense. The incense followed the movement of robes. The wind blew from left to right. When Seol Hajin slid to the right, the incense followed late. Yet the sword arrived first.
Difficult. Yet not unenjoyable.
Seol Hajin moved again. Ding. The bell rang from the left. Yet Seoryeong briefly raised the ebony pole to the right. Clang. The sword was blocked. Seol Hajin’s eyes wavered for the first time.
Seoryeong immediately entered. She did not swing widely. Briefly. She held the middle of the ebony pole and kept her elbows close. As Mak Cheol had said—strike and push. Seol Hajin retreated. Yet the tip of the ebony pole grazed her sleeve. Fabric tore.
Seoryeong’s eyes brightened. It had touched. A little.
Seol Hajin’s face grew cold. “You learn quickly.”
“Mm.”
“That was not praise.”
“Still, it’s correct.”
Hwarin nearly laughed inwardly. Even at a time like this, Seoryeong was true to herself. Yet Seol Hajin did not laugh. She raised her sword. The surrounding scent of incense grew slightly thicker.
Hwarin’s expression changed. “Lady Seol, do you intend to use incense techniques as well?”
Seol Hajin did not answer.
Incense techniques. Seoryeong heard the words. So she fought with incense. As the scent grew thicker, her head grew slightly heavy. It was not strong poison. Yet it entered with her breath and dulled her senses.
Seoryeong’s gaze grew cold. Again, something that dulled the body. Similar to poison. She did not like it.
Hwarin spoke sharply. “Is mixing Mihonhyang into orthodox subjugation the Baekryeon Sword Sect’s way?”
Seol Hajin’s gaze wavered slightly. “I do not intend to harm. It is incense meant to calm.”
“Is clouding someone’s senses without their consent calming?”
Seol Hajin fell silent.
Seoryeong looked at Seol Hajin upon hearing that exchange. Orthodox. They said they were good people. No—they said they tried to appear good. Yet they clouded senses with incense. They shook Yu Soha with words, tried to take her away, and now used incense. Not as filthy as Sawoldo. Yet she did not like it.
Seoryeong did not draw deep breaths. Short and shallow. Then she kicked off the ground.
Seol Hajin, thinking Seoryeong would be dulled by the incense, extended her sword low. Yet Seoryeong came in faster. Her head was heavy. Not good. Then she would finish quickly.
The ebony pole came down. Seol Hajin tried to dodge sideways. Seoryeong did not look at the bell, the incense, or the sword tip this time. She looked at the wind. The air pushed by Seol Hajin’s robes. Following that flow, she twisted the ebony pole.
Thud. The tip of the ebony pole struck the back of Seol Hajin’s sword. The sword wavered downward. Seoryeong stepped in further. Just before their shoulders collided, Seol Hajin hurriedly turned her body. Yet it was too late. The rear end of the ebony pole struck the ground beside her ankle.
Crack. Dirt flew. Seol Hajin’s balance collapsed.
Seoryeong did not strike her. Hwarin had said not to injure her seriously. Instead, she stopped the ebony pole before Seol Hajin’s neck. Exactly one chi away.
Seol Hajin’s silver bell rang belatedly. Ding.
Silence fell.
Seoryeong spoke lowly. “Don’t use incense on me.”
Seol Hajin held her breath. Shock filled her eyes. Shock at having lost. Shock at having her neck seized by a young child. And the fact that that child could have struck her yet stopped.
Hwarin spoke without sheathing her sword. “The match is over.”
Seol Hajin slowly lowered her sword. “……It is over.”
Seoryeong withdrew the ebony pole. Her head was still slightly heavy. She wrinkled her nose. “I hate incense.”
Seol Hajin did not answer. She looked down at her hands. Her sleeve was torn, and the wrist holding the sword trembled weakly.
Hwarin spoke coldly. “Inform the Baekryeon Sword Sect. The Hyeol-un-pal-sik will be formally discussed after arriving at the Cheongseong Sect. If they attempt to forcibly seize it on the road, I will ask whether that is the face of the orthodox sects.”
Seol Hajin looked at Hwarin. “I merely tried to prevent greater bloodshed.”
“That does not justify driving people with words and clouding a child’s senses with incense.”
Seol Hajin pressed her lips together. She looked at Yu Soha. Yu Soha still held the wooden box, yet her gaze wavered less than before.
Yu Soha spoke carefully. “I will go to the Cheongseong Sect.”
Seol Hajin’s eyes settled. “More people will die on that road.”
Yu Soha swallowed. Yet this time she did not collapse. “Even so, I will not break my master’s final request.”
Hwarin gave Yu Soha a small nod. Seol Hajin said no more. She sheathed her sword. The silver bell rang very faintly.
“I hope the Cheongseong Sect can take responsibility.”
Hwarin answered, “We are on the road to take responsibility.”
Seol Hajin looked at Seoryeong one last time. “You are dangerous.”
Seoryeong nodded. “Mm.”
Hwarin nearly sighed but held it back.
Seol Hajin froze for a moment at the unexpected answer. Seoryeong continued. “But I don’t like you deciding.”
Seol Hajin’s gaze wavered. Seoryeong said no more. Long speeches were difficult. Yet she understood this much. She might be dangerous. That might be correct. Yet she disliked someone taking her away because of it, locking her up, and judging her as they pleased. That did not sit well with her, whether from orthodox or unorthodox sects.
Seol Hajin stood for a long while, then turned. Ding. Ding. The bell sound grew distant. The scent of incense also gradually faded. Seoryeong watched until that scent completely disappeared.
Hwarin finally exhaled. Yu Soha’s legs seemed to give out as she sank onto a rock. “I’m sorry. Again because of me……”
Seoryeong immediately said, “Don’t say that.”
Yu Soha looked up. Seoryeong rested the ebony pole on her shoulder. “Hwarin doesn’t like it.”
Hwarin blinked for a moment. Yu Soha looked at Seoryeong, then burst into laughter. It was a sound mixed with both laughter and tears. “Yes. I won’t.”
Hwarin muttered lowly. “You comfort people in a strange way.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. “Comfort?”
“Perhaps.”
“Then it’s fine.”
Hwarin finally laughed. After a short rest, the group set out again. Seol Hajin had withdrawn, yet the encounter had not been light. The orthodox sects had begun to move as well. And not only with helping hands. The justification of sealing the Hyeol-un-pal-sik. The reason of preventing greater bloodshed. The judgment that a dangerous child must be controlled. Those words were far more plausible than Sawoldo’s threats. Therefore, they were more complicated.
Seoryeong asked as they walked. “Hwarin.”
“What?”
“Orthodox sects can be disliked too.”
Hwarin was silent for a moment. Then she answered. “They can.”
“Then the Cheongseong Sect too?”
At that question, Hwarin’s steps slowed briefly. Yu Soha also looked at Hwarin cautiously.
Hwarin spoke honestly. “They can.”
Seoryeong looked at Hwarin. Hwarin continued. “There will be frustrating people in the Cheongseong Sect as well, greedy people, people who see you as dangerous.”
“Then fight?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“First we speak.”
“What if words don’t work?”
Hwarin pondered for a moment. “Then I will try to stop them.”
“You, Hwarin?”
“Yes.”
Seoryeong heard those words. She would stop them. Hwarin kept saying such things. When they first met, she had simply been a strong person. Someone taking her to the Cheongseong Sect. A swordmaster far stronger than herself. Yet now it felt slightly different. Hwarin stopped her. Scolded her. Taught her. Worried about her. And said she would stop others for her.
Seoryeong did not know exactly what that was. Yet she did not dislike it.
“Then I’ll stop them too.”
Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. “Stop what?”
“Things that make things hard for you.”
Hwarin’s words caught in her throat for a moment. Yu Soha also looked at Seoryeong with a surprised face. Seoryeong was very serious.
Hwarin chuckled after a moment. “You’re the one who makes things hardest for me.”
Seoryeong paused. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Then do I have to stop myself too?”
Hwarin finally laughed loudly. Laughter spread across the mountain path that had been stiff with tension. Yu Soha laughed as well. Seoryeong did not know why they laughed, yet it was not unpleasant.
The laughter did not last long. Yet that brief laughter alone made the path feel a little lighter.
By afternoon, the mountain path began drawing closer to the official road once more. The scent of people gradually increased. The sound of cart wheels could be heard from afar, and the smell of horses rode the wind. The junction point where they would merge with the main road leading to the Cheongseong Sect was drawing near.
Hwarin said, “Once we reach the main road, it will be about a day and a half to the Cheongseong Sect.”
Yu Soha exhaled as though relieved. “We’re almost there.”
“We must be most careful when we’re almost there.”
Hwarin’s words were heavy. Pursuers would not follow all the way to the Cheongseong Sect’s gates. Therefore, the final stretch where they could still move was approaching.
Seoryeong smelled the wind. The scent of incense had disappeared. Sawoldo’s scent of blood had also faded. Yet other scents remained. People. Many people. And among them, some were martial artists.
As the main road drew near, the martial world grew noisy once more. Seoryeong gripped the ebony pole. Today she had fought Seol Hajin. She had fought the orthodox sects. Not all orthodox people were likable. Not all unorthodox people were enjoyable either. There were many kinds of strong people. Mak Cheol was heavy and hot. Sawoldo was noisy and filthy. Seol Hajin was cold and frustrating. Hwarin was solid and a little troublesome. Each person had different scents, different fights, different words. The martial world was truly complicated.
Yet Seoryeong was beginning to like that complexity a little. It was difficult. Therefore, there was much to learn. If there was much to learn, she could grow stronger. And if she grew stronger, she could someday draw closer to the battlefield in her dreams.
As the sun lowered, they stood atop a hill where the mountain path merged with the main road. Below, a wide road stretched out. Carts passed, merchant caravan flags fluttered, and martial artists rode horses. Beyond that road, in the distance, mountain peaks overlapped. One of them would be Cheongseong Mountain.
Hwarin looked toward it. “We’re almost there.”
Seoryeong also looked at the mountain. The place where strong people were. The place where frustrating people might also be. The place that might accept her or push her away. She was heading there.
Seoryeong rested the ebony pole on her shoulder. And suddenly recalled the cloth bundle of potatoes inside her robe. She took out one potato and took a bite. It had already cooled, yet it was still tasty.
Hwarin asked, “Eating now?”
“Mm.”
“Why?”
“You said we’re almost there.”
“What does that have to do with potatoes?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. “I feel strange.”
Hwarin did not ask further.
Seoryeong chewed the potato while looking at the mountain. It was a similar feeling to when they had left the village. A feeling of wanting to go forward, yet something received from behind remaining in her hands. Back then it had been the mother’s rice cake. Now it was the potato given by the child.
Seoryeong swallowed slowly. Then she said, “Nice.”
Hwarin gave a small laugh. “What is?”
“The road.”
“You said it was hard.”
“Still nice.”
Hwarin nodded. “Yes. Then let’s go.”
They descended the hill. The noise of the main road grew gradually closer. Scent of people. Scent of metal. Scent of blood. Scent of alcohol. Scent of money. Scent of lies. And from very far away, the cold wind scent of Cheongseong Mountain blew in.
Seoryeong drew in that wind. The next road would be more complicated. Yet now she felt she understood a little. The martial world was not a place where only strong people existed. The martial world was a place where words, rumors, justifications, greed, and fear were mixed together. She still did not know what she would do within it. Yet now it was simple. Take Yu Soha to the Cheongseong Sect. Stop things that make things hard for Hwarin. Hit people she disliked. Remember strong people. And someday hold a halberd. That much was enough.
Seoryeong adjusted her grip on the ebony pole. She stepped onto the wide road. The Cheongseong Sect was drawing closer. And what awaited her there would not be a simple welcome.