Things You Shouldn't Do at a Funeral (2): Miracles
Even miracles have their limits. We call something a miracle because it's an impossibility made real, but there's always a degree to it. When human hands reach into realms beyond mortal grasp, people whisper of miracles. The domain of the gods.
When certain Taoists cultivate the Dao in hopes of ascending as immortals, or when Shaolin monks and Ami nuns pray for the Buddha to descend upon them, or even the sun god revered in the southern wilds—they're all speaking of that divine realm. The likes of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors said to dwell in the heavens, the Queen Mother of the West, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Those we might truly call gods.
Take Dongfang Shuo, who gained three thousand years of life from a single peach. Utterly natural in the realm of gods, utterly impossible in ours. That's why mortals exalt and worship them.
But what is this?
"Ha."
The dead woman's eyes snapped open.
Not some wandering spirit possessing the corpse and fluttering the lids. No.
Crunch, grind. An eerie sound from somewhere, like bones and flesh knitting together.
Crack, squelch, slap. Mismatched slabs of meat fusing under some unholy energy.
Schiiing, creak. Something rigid slowly loosening, straining to move—
"Hoo." It stopped halfway.
"Lucky I prepared just in case."
"Y-Yeah..."
Across from me, Moyong Seol had already drawn her sword, flustered but channeling sword qi into the blade. She glanced at me with pleading eyes, pointing downward.
"Should I cut her down again?"
"She's listening right now, it seems."
"Uh..."
"Not just mute from a severed throat... There's a needle jammed in her mute acupoint."
I pointed to the long silver needles embedded across Yugiyeon's body.
Before feeding her my blood, I'd taken one precaution—for just this contingency. [Yugiyeon's resurrection]. To prevent her from bolting up like a jiangshi and attacking the healer.
I'd half-expected it, but the miracle happened anyway. Probably the one she wished for.
"Ha..."
A wave of deep fatigue crashed over me.
This is insane.
I could cure Jeolmok Jeong. Rejuvenate to age twenty. Those were miracles on another level entirely.
But this? A whole new category of miracle had burst forth.
Does it work on any corpse? Sprinkle blood on bleached bones and watch new flesh sprout? Or only fresh ones, days dead at most?
If souls exist, is this Yugiyeon—rolling her eyes to take stock—the same Yugiyeon Moyong Seol killed?
"Yugiyeon."
She turned to me at my call. Responding properly meant she retained intelligence, at least.
"You are dead."
A jiangshi would just chase noise, not fix me with that piercing stare.
"The dead rising violates human decency and heavenly law. Thus, I will kill you again."
I drew a silver needle from my pouch.
"Physician."
"Moyong. Leave this to me."
She shot me a look, but I kept lowering my gripped needle.
"Yugiyeon. With your foolish mind, you judged rashly, schemed against Moyong, and brought them irremovable shame."
Deeds so vile even Magyo would mutter, "Eh, that's a bit much."
"And that shame spread to Magyo as well."
Now for the bluff with a kernel of truth.
"You know something of me. There's open talk in murim: among the righteous sects' juniors, those with dim futures get culled, replaced by Magyo's latent agents."
I was one, so I knew. An open secret the sects silently agreed to ignore.
"Targets can be sects, or individuals. When a disciple proves worthless or better discarded, some sects knowingly take in latent agents as successors."
Like Jeomchangpa, whose sect leader's head flew—courtesy of Sword Saint Moyong Cheon. Unaware she was Cheonma's hidden daughter, they still accepted Soyeonjeok, the new star disciple, eyes wide open.
"Moyong's the same."
Moyong Sega took me in to treat Moyong Seol, along with my master, Maui Baekmyeon.
"Boundaries between black and white blur. In this era where raw power of the Nine Great Sects and Five Families matters most, you dared scheme against Moyong Sega for the pettiest reason."
The needle hovered before her pupil. Yugiyeon's eyes quivered wildly, but pinned in place, she could only watch it descend.
"Not just you—many more will come to Moyong. Not as dumb, but craftier, with vicious plots."
Her eyes shook harder. She seemed to guess who, desperate to scream it.
"What? Want to live?"
Nod. Eyelids clamped shut, then open—affirmation.
"Tasted death once, now scared?"
Nod.
I'd never died, but she'd crossed over and returned. Honestly, the "process" from death to now intrigued me. Wandering as a soul? Deep coma? A peek into hell before snapping back?
Curiosity about the afterlife swelled, but questions could wait for coherent talk.
"Daughter of Jageommun—Magyo's shameful sub-branch—Yugiyeon. I have one question."
I tapped a needle lightly to her brow.
"You've died once and lived again."
Tap tap. Fingertip prodded the needle's tip, focusing her nerves there.
"When you first took the Geukyang Jihwan, you wished for Jeolmok Jeong's cure and youth."
Tap, tap tap.
"So what do you wish for now?"
If miracles grant the wisher's desire, no matter what...
"Ah, no need to overthink."
Whatever flashed in her mind or soul, the [dead] held one true longing.
"Just confirming one thing."
What? A vital question for facing murim ahead.
"How many times will this miracle happen?"
I drove the needle deeper.
"!!"
"No need to panic. Not piercing bone."
Her body twitched.
"If you want it, blink three times fast."
Her trembling eyes asked: What?
"If you don't want to revive again. If you crave eternal death."
I stepped back.
"Miss, one more time? The heart this round."
"She's twitching—mind stepping aside?"
Moyong Seol gripped her sword reverse, and the instant I retreated, plunged it down.
Shluck!
No blood sprayed. Drained dry? But with needles sealing acupoints, no flow—then what was that earlier motion?
"...No blood, yet somehow alive. How?"
Curiosity flickered, but Yugiyeon met her second death.
"Miss. Hold still."
I sliced my palm again, letting blood drip down her sword onto the corpse.
Drip, drip, drip.
After a brief pause...
"......!!"
"Whoa, for real."
"Uh, um..."
"It works."
Yugiyeon opened her eyes again.
"Yugiyeon."
I swiftly pulled the needles near her jaw.
"That's three deaths now."
"Uh, ahh..."
Even before removing the acupoint needles, she strained to speak.
"Tw-two, uuu..."
The final needle came free.
"Two, times, aaah...!"
Venomous, rage-filled eyes glared as she spat blood-laced words.
"No."
I withdrew the needle, pointing to Yugiyeon's throat for Moyong Seol.
"Three."
Slash!
"......Hoo."
"P-Physician...?"
"...Moyong."
I eyed the freshly severed neck—mirroring the first cut—then wiped blood from my hand with my thumb.
Lick.
"Ph-Physician?!"
"......Hm."
I'd wished desperately before, and still did. No effect.
"Seems it doesn't work on me."
"What'd you even wish for...?"
"The world's best?"
Sincerely.
"More precisely: power to protect myself, even if all under heaven hunted me."
Wished, but impossible, apparently.
"...Then."
Moyong Seol approached, clasping my hand in both of hers.
"I'll become that for you, right?"
Eyes steeled with resolve, she pulled my hand to her lips.
Lick, lick.
Hm. So this is what they mean by saliva heals wounds.
At that moment.
Whoooosh.
In the heart of the snowfield, a white-haired woman and a black-clad middle-aged man pressed north through the blizzard.
"Tell me, Baekmyeon. Is it truly real?"
"......"
"That Seok Mu Wol... he's really that?"
"Hm. Desperately hoping, are you?"
The white-haired woman—Baekmyeon—turned.
"For a glimpse of heaven's immortal descending in human form?"
"......"
"If you truly wish it, follow me now. No point craving immortality if your head rolls first."
"Death, huh."
"What we need is a shield against the absolute blade of death coming for us."
Baekmyeon smiled faintly, drawing a worn paper from her bosom.
"The lifeline to shield us from the Sword Saint—and the spark for greater chaos in murim."
"You..."
The black-clad man asked.
"What do you desire? Knowing he's immortal-grade, that you could claim him anytime—why leave him be?"
"Who knows. Magyo's fall? Chaos across the Central Plains?"
Baekmyeon chuckled low.
"Cheonma shook the world with Cheonma Singong, filling it with terror."
In the snowfield, she spread her arms wide, her snow-paler eyes gleaming.
"But he fell to the Sword Saint. While Geomseong lives, no chaos stirs murim."
"You..."
"But now? Different."
Baekmyeon turned, raising one finger at the man.
"Hide one man's identity, and what chaos unfolds in murim ahead?"
"......"
"Oh, forgot to mention. Before you saved me..."
Heh.
"I told Moyong Seol: before dying, she should have one hot fling with a man."
"...No way."
"Yes."
Baekmyeon grinned wide.
"Me."
Hands behind her back, she strolled leisurely north.
"Central Plains murim plunges into turmoil. Magyo has an unspoken rule: the one sparking the greatest 'heaven-defying' wave becomes true Cheonma."
"......You don't mean."
"My disciple."
Hand on her chest, Baekmyeon smiled softly.
"Will shatter this murim sky and usher a new era. Yes. The dawn of..."
Flutter.
"A true Cheonma,"
Baekmyeon reached for the heavens,
"who defies the natural order."