Chapter 72
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: 24 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques -10=14 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques
-----------------------------------------------------------------
As soon as I returned to the upper palace, Uiseong was the first to greet me at the sect gate.
"Kid, you feeling a bit better now?"
Biyeon gave a quick bow and hurried off, and Uiseong, who had been about to scoop me up in a hug, clicked his tongue and lowered his wide-open arms.
"They say kids grow up in the blink of an eye, and damn if it isn't true. Can't even carry you around anymore."
His gaze suddenly drew close, and when I subtly checked my height, my head now reached just past Uiseong's shoulder. Still a little short, though.
"It's only been seven days and nights—not enough time to forget that weight of sorrow. I have to set it down slowly, like sending it off on flowing water."
Uiseong's face twisted into a strange expression at my answer. He matched my slow steps and muttered under his breath.
"You're all grown up now, really."
Sensing the bitter emotion laced into that sigh-like statement, I quickly changed the subject.
"What happened with this?"
I lifted the sword—which was long compared to my height—and asked. Uiseong naturally took it from me, trailing off.
'Whoa, they're not gonna take my sword, are they?'
I clenched my fist in reflexive tension, and Uiseong chuckled before continuing.
"Elder Jinmyeong argued hard for ownership... but the Sect Leader roared that he wouldn't steal a kid's sword even if it meant defying his master's last will. So Elder Jinmyeong ended up looking like a greedy brat coveting a child's toy."
Luckily, the Sect Leader had shielded me. But the problem was that shield wasn't as sturdy as when the Supreme Sect Leader old man was around.
"Ugh, guess I gotta lay low and avoid Elder Jinmyeong's eyes for a while."
"You didn't do anything wrong—why hide? This is exactly when you gotta piss him off more by strutting right in front of him."
It sounded right the more I thought about it. Just as I nodded eagerly, Uihyeon appeared from behind and smacked Uiseong on the head.
"One of you getting on the sect elders' bad side isn't enough? Now you're trying to drag Biyeon into it with some ritual."
After scolding Uiseong, Uihyeon straightened my daoist robes, which had turned ragged after a week living like a wild man, and earnestly warned me.
"You too, Yeon—don't even think of listening to him. Especially now, avoid rash actions and be cautious in every move you make."
Uihyeon placed both hands on my shoulders and lowered his head to meet my eyes with a firm gaze.
When I was very young, he'd had to kneel to match my height. Then bending at the waist sufficed, and now just tilting his head down was enough.
"And even if someone demands you hand over the sword and threatens you, don't yield. You are its rightful owner."
I swallowed the surge of emotion from his solemn voice and its unconditional support for me, then nodded.
Uihyeon let out a short sigh and rubbed his brow.
"We'll have to head down to Huayin soon to get you a new sword. Staying out of sight until things cool down is best."
"I can use my old sword until then."
It felt wrong to spend money when I had a perfectly good one, so I refused indirectly, but Uihyeon was firm.
"You're about to learn the 14 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques now. We need to get one that fits your body, accounting for your growth spurt."
Oh, Plum Blossom Swordsmanship.
But wondering if I'd misheard the number before "Plum Blossom Swordsmanship," I unconsciously rubbed my ear.
"14 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques?"
"Yes. You've surpassed Seven Plums Sword and Two Five Sword's seven forms, so it's time to learn the ascending arts."
"No, not 24?"
As I searched for the missing ten from the technique's name, Uiseong clutched his stomach laughing at how my reaction matched his own.
"You can only learn the 24 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques once you've reached at least five forms in the 14 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques. If you want to learn the 24 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques quickly, you gotta train hard on the 14."
"I've even mastered the first form, so couldn't I just—"
My timid protest drew a much sterner tone from Uihyeon.
"Biyeon, everything has its order."
Hearing those two words from Uihyeon's mouth meant I should know better and back off. But seeing my expression still unconvinced, Uiseong finally stopped laughing and lightly tapped my head.
"If you achieve three forms in the 14 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques before the year's end, I'll teach you the 24 Plum Blossom Sword Techniques. How about it? Think you can do it?"
I counted the months left until year's end. Four. Three forms—not even five—in that time? Easy.
"Pfft, I know full well how terribly you teach, Uncle Uiseong. But sure, deal."
"I don't wanna learn from you—have your senior brother teach me."
I grinned confidently, and Uiseong snorted a laugh before shoving it onto Uihyeon. Uihyeon, uncharacteristically smirking just like Uiseong, nodded.
"Alright, let's do that."
At this Dragon-Tiger Assembly, we'd crushed every Wudang third-generation disciple. Six Harmonies Sword? Buzz off. Time to show them real Mount Hua swordsmanship.
The deal was good for me, and I arrived at the hall in high spirits, where I spotted Biyeong holding a stack of letters.
"Whoa, are those love letters? You're popular, little sister."
Teasing her as I covered my mouth with my sleeve, Biyeong dumped the pile on me with a scoff.
"That's what I want to say. You're the popular one, senior brother."
Who the hell sends me love letters? A challenge duel slip or what?
I opened one doubtfully, and it clearly wasn't. The name at the bottom was all too familiar.
Several other letters I unfolded had the same names. And the other names, written in different hands, were familiar too.
How many letters did this guy send in a single week by himself?
They say handwriting reflects personality. Namgung Seheon's neat script, full of "are you okay?" concerns, showed effort but ended with slight flicks. Paeng Haran's calm words of comfort were thin and precise. Finally, Baek Geon's long eulogy and warm worries were straight, upright, and bold.
I pulled out three sheets and wrote replies. First up was Namgung Seheon, who'd gone for quantity.
Biyeong peered over as I wrote and chimed in.
"You're really sending that? With what I hear of that Namgung young master's temper, he might just charge up to Mount Hua."
I finished the replies for the other two, rolled up the three letters, tied them with string, and grinned.
"It's fine. The Namgung Family won't let him, and besides, the guy's hopeless with directions—he'd never make it up to Mount Hua upper palace alone."
* * *
The sunlight pouring down on the Peng Family's training ground was so blazing it stung. Paeng Haran, sitting on a rock in the cool shade and watching his struggling friend face his eldest brother, closed his eyes.
How many minutes passed? Feeling a presence right in front of him, he slowly lifted his eyelids.
"I told you the sun's harsh—go inside. It'll be over soon."
Paeng Haran wasn't so dull as to miss the worry in those curt words. He'd known the boy a long time, after all.
Paeng Haran poked at the soft silk of the towel fluttering before him, like a bored cat batting at yarn.
Then he gave the boy standing there a lazy smile in reply.
"Well, I've gotten quite used to the waiting by now."
"Still no reply?"
The boy clicked his tongue, wondering if the letters were being deliberately ignored. Paeng Haran shook his head after drinking from the water skin the boy offered.
"You know as well as I do how hard it is to part with close friends."
The boy clamped his mouth shut at that. Had he said something unnecessary? As the mood sank, Paeng Haran handed the water skin back, lost in regret.
That awkward silence was broken by his little brother's booming shout.
"Little brother, the reply's here!"
The usually laid-back Paeng Haran sprang up from the rock uncharacteristically, and his little brother ground his teeth.
"Daring to make our youngest wait in agony like this. I don't like Mount Hua bastards, Namgung bastards, or even Jeonma bastards—tch..."
He seemed to have taken a dislike at the Shaolin conference, viewing everything they did in a bad light. As he grumbled and walked off with a tongue click, Paeng Haran unfolded the letter.
The elegant, refined handwriting contained a not-so-brief apology for the late reply and thanks for the consolation.
As Paeng Haran read down, he let out a small laugh. The boy plopped down beside him and asked.
"You're sending letters and all—must like him a lot?"
"Good kid. I'll introduce him to you later with Seoryun."
At that, the boy—Jin Seoryun—grinned.
"Curious. Wonder what your picky standards-approved new friend is like."
* * *
"Hey! Your precious reply's here!"
The letter flung from Baek Yun's hand fell to the ground before even reaching Baek Geon.
Baek Yun flinched at the icy glare aimed his way and bolted off. Muttering about living at the mercy of his junior brother's moods was par for the course.
Watching his senior brother flee, Baek Geon sighed and bent to pick up the fallen letter. He brushed off the dirt on the outside, then carefully unfolded it.
Surprised, Baek Geon let out a small laugh. Contrary to his bold, aggressive nature, Biyeon's handwriting was demure.
It had been nearly five years since they'd last met. Reading the straightforward letter made it seem like he alone fretted over the long gap, drawing a wry smile.
Baek Geon stared at the closing "see you soon" for a long while, then counted the days left until the Dragon-Tiger Assembly.
'Six months ahead?'
He glanced up at the sky, then muttered, blaming the slow-passing time.
"Wanna see you soon."