Thirteen Petals
I rushed to Mu Yeong’s side and checked his vitals. To my immense relief, he was still breathing.
When I placed a hand against his skin, his body felt unnervingly cold from the sheer amount of blood he had lost. As if to underscore his dire state, the floor of the compartment was soaked in crimson, casting a grim and oppressive pall over the small space.
“Brother, are you all right?”
At the sound of my voice, Mu Yeong slowly slit his eyes open. He peered up at my face and offered a faint, lopsided smirk. “Well now, little brother... did the two of you manage to grow any closer?”
“What kind of nonsense are you babbling at a time like this?”
There was a limit even to boisterous bravado. His very life was hanging by a thread, yet the only thing on his mind was my love life. A bitter, helpless chuckle slipped past my lips.
A flurry of hurried footsteps echoed from outside the compartment, likely drawn by the commotion. A moment later, the door leading toward the final checkpoint swung open, and the master of the pavilion stepped inside. The moment his gaze swept over the carnage, his eyes went wide.
“M-Master Mu Yeong!”
Desperately trying to make sense of the horrific scene, the proprietor’s gaze darted back and forth between Eun Ae-hyang and me. His instincts kicking in, he spun on his heel to flee. Left alone, this had all the makings of an extremely inconvenient misunderstanding.
Eun Ae-hyang seemed to share my exact thought, instantly stepping forward to block his path.
“Eek!”
“A man’s life is in critical danger,” she commanded in a crisp, unwavering tone. “The instant you step outside, summon help immediately.”
“Wh-what? Ah, yes! Right away!”
The proprietor scrambled away into the corridor. Eun Ae-hyang surveyed the room once more before walking back over to me. “The courtesan who was with Brother Mu Yeong is gone.”
Now that she mentioned it, there was no trace of the woman anywhere in the compartment.
Having caught her words, Mu Yeong let out a ragged, wet cough that reeked of iron before wheezing, “That wench... someone put her up to it.”
“Put her up to it? Who? Did you make an enemy of an assassin sect?”
An assassin sect referred to a martial faction whose primary trade was murder for hire. Since contracted killings served as the main source of income for many unorthodox clans, the term was often used interchangeably with the unorthodox faction as a whole. With the position of the Martial Alliance Lord currently vacant, tensions had flared anew between the orthodox and unorthodox factions, and rivalries among the orthodox sects themselves had soured. It stood to reason that the unorthodox clans were locked in similar strife.
Even so, for an unorthodox sect to recklessly strike at the Green Forest was madness. Whoever orchestrated this would soon be shivering in terror, bitterly regretting their failure to finish the job.
My reasoning came down to the very purpose of the Green Forest’s existence.
The Green Forest was a confederation of bandits who had fled into the mountains out of hatred for a corrupt world; in essence, their sentiment was one and the same with the common people. In truth, many Green Forest outlaws lived in peaceful cooperation with nearby farming villages, turning their backs on court authority. Knowing this, even the most self-righteous martial artists who prided themselves on chivalry, and the grand sects that housed them, drew a line. They might subjugate stray mountain bandits, but they refrained from recklessly purging outlaws flying the banner of the Green Forest.
If an outsider carelessly trampled upon the sentiments tied to the Green Forest and fell out of favor with the common folk, they risked losing all footing in the realm, effectively exiling themselves from the Jianghu. Even in a martial world where blades dictated righteousness, this was a tacit compromise everyone observed. And frankly, it was far better than allowing the realm to devolve into a chaotic slaughterhouse ruled by petty thugs.
Above all, ever since Mu Yeong took up the mantle of the Green Forest King, the bond between his brotherhood and the populace had grown closer than ever. For someone to dare commission an assassination against the supreme leader of such an alliance meant they were either utterly fearless or shockingly stupid.
Yet Mu Yeong’s next words completely blindsided me.
“Why assume it was an outside sect? Even if the wench herself belonged to an assassin ring.”
Wait. Not an outside sect? Then... could it be an internal feud?
“What are you saying? You mean to tell me someone inside the Green Forest wants to murder the very man who brought them peace?”
“Heheheh... Ah, little brother. Spoken like a true pampered young master of the Wudang Sect yearning for Daoist immortality. You can be hopelessly naive at times.”
“Excuse me?”
“Enough, leave it be. I survived, so let me handle my own mess. You’ve got your own matters to fret over.”
I see. He has no intention of elaborating.
Mu Yeong was always like this. He would throw himself into danger to help others, yet when it came to his own troubles, he insisted on resolving them with his own two hands. A refusal to burden others with his grievances—perhaps that was Mu Yeong’s own brand of chivalry. Prying any further would likely only hinder his plans. Getting rid of a traitor would be trivial for either Eun Ae-hyang or me, but that clearly wasn't how he wanted things done.
Letting out a quiet sigh, I cradled Mu Yeong’s head against my knee. “Setting that aside, Brother, you’ve really lost your touch. Brought this low by a mere woman?”
“Ha—listen to this cheeky brat running his mouth just because I'm down! If I’d had my spear in hand, that little wench wouldn't have left a single scratch on me! Pfft... cough! Cough!”
“Hah. Maybe you didn't have wounds before, but those lipstick marks on your chest are vivid enough.”
“Naturally! Even an old scoundrel like me has a pure romantic streak.”
...Or maybe you're just hopeless around women.
“Which is precisely why she couldn't bring herself to finish me off,” Mu Yeong boasted weakly. “Mark my words, I'll take her into my arms again one day.”
Good grief, of course you will.
Even while hacking up blood that pooled in his windpipe, Mu Yeong refused to wipe the grin off his face. I shifted his upper body slightly, propping him up so he could breathe more easily. Relieved of the pressure, his coughing subsided, and his ragged breaths gradually steadied.
I looked up at Eun Ae-hyang. “I’ve got silver needles and Golden Sore Salve in my pack. Pull them out for me, quickly.”
Eun Ae-hyang nodded, reached into the travel sack resting beside me, and retrieved the needle pouch along with the medicine jar.
To assess the full extent of the damage, I carefully pulled open Mu Yeong’s robes. Damn it all. The first person whose clothes I strip after the Great Demon War has to be a grown man. If Mu Yeong were in my shoes, he would have cracked that exact joke.
Sure enough, as the rest of his chest was laid bare, Mu Yeong chuckled softly. “Damn it, it felt a whole lot better when that wench was stabbing me. Exposing my bare flesh to another man... what an utter disgrace.”
“Is that so? If you'd rather avoid further discomfort, perhaps you should politely inform this young lady exactly where your wounds are.”
“...Spare me. You're going to make me vomit.”
Grimacing, Mu Yeong pointed toward his side. Turning his torso gently, I located a deep, jagged puncture resembling a sword wound, the flesh around it pooling with dark blood. I tore off a strip from my inner sleeve, wiped away the congealed blood, and applied a generous layer of Golden Sore Salve to seal the laceration.
Though late spring was in the air, the sudden surge and release of adrenaline left beads of cold sweat dotting my forehead. Wiping my brow with my undamaged sleeve, I looked down at him. “Brother, do you need me to transfer some pure qi to stabilize you?”
Mu Yeong’s face twisted into an expression of sheer disgust. Ah, that was pure contempt—the exact look I found myself giving Jeok Seong quite often these days.
“Save it, my friend. A few fingers from a man are plenty enough contact for one day. You expect me to take in internal energy that smells like chestnut blossoms?”
This incorrigible degenerate. He was practically murdered by a woman, and he's still chasing skirts with his dying breath?
“Jokes aside,” Mu Yeong murmured, his voice softening. “Do you know why I got stabbed?”
“If I knew, would I have let you get skewered in the first place?”
“Aiya, look at this arrogant little brother of mine. Such a clever lad, yet why can’t you just co—mph!”
Hah. Maybe saving him was a mistake after all. Yes, definitely a mistake.
I slapped a hand firmly over Mu Yeong’s mouth before he could finish that sentence, casting a discreet glance toward Eun Ae-hyang. She simply tilted her head, watching the two of us with mild curiosity.
“...You don't seem particularly shocked by all this,” I remarked.
“People dying in the Jianghu is hardly news,” she replied calmly. “Though I admit I was startled at first.”
For someone who was startled, your face barely showed a flicker of emotion.
Giving Eun Ae-hyang a baffled look, I turned my attention back to the Green Forest King and sent a sharp message through sound transmission:
‘Are you seriously bringing that up right now, of all times?!’
Unable to circulate his qi properly to reply in kind, Mu Yeong frantically patted the floor with his palm, silently pleading with me to remove my hand. Once I let go, he coughed up another fleck of blood and chuckled under his breath.
“Aye, that’s your chivalry talking. But tell me, do you know the legend?”
“...What legend?”
“Out in the North Sea Ice Palace, they tell a fascinating tale about plum blossoms. Tell me, little brother, do you know how many petals a plum blossom typically has?”
“Why are you suddenly bringing up flowers?”
Ignoring my exasperation, Mu Yeong continued in a raspy, measured voice. “Plum blossoms are the blessing of spring, blooming only after braving the bitterest ice. But every once in a while, a blossom opens with a count other than five petals. Because such sightings are exceedingly rare, they say good fortune befalls anyone lucky enough to see one.”
“Did you happen across one of those rare blossoms in your youth?”
“Just listen. Each petal count carries its own distinct fortune. A single petal brings immense wealth. A double petal brings high rank and office. A three-petaled blossom brings a lifetime of romantic bliss...”
Mu Yeong went on to list twelve different variations, each tied to a unique blessing. Hmm, pleasant fortunes, no doubt. Wealth, prestige, career... Yet as a disciple of Wudang devoted to Daoist asceticism, such worldly matters held little appeal to me.
...Except, perhaps, the romantic bliss concerning Eun Ae-hyang.
“However,” Mu Yeong’s voice dipped low, “there is one blossom that must never be found: a plum blossom with thirteen petals.”
“And why is that?”
“They say the very moment you lay eyes upon a thirteen-petaled blossom, every scrap of good fortune you’ve ever amassed throughout your life turns into twice as much misfortune.”
“That sounds like quite the chilling omen.”
“Doesn't it? Which brings me to my point.”
Mu Yeong crooked a finger at me, gesturing for me to lean in close. A patient summoning his savior with a wag of his finger?!
Reluctantly, I leaned down, and Mu Yeong whispered directly into my ear.
“If you wait too long... the regret that catches up to you will dwarf anything you can fathom. You thick-headed fool. Snatch her up before it’s too late.”
Ah.
So that’s what he meant.
Meeting his gaze, I offered a silent, solemn nod instead of a reply.
Mu Yeong broke into a deeply satisfied grin. Then, he shifted his attention toward Eun Ae-hyang. “Younger Sister Ae-hyang, come over here a moment. As for this lad, shoo, get lost.”
With a faint wave of his hand, he made a teasing motion as if pushing me away. Stepping aside to give them space, I watched as Eun Ae-hyang knelt gracefully beside him, leaning in attentively to listen to whatever he had to say.
Right then, the door creaked open, and the pavilion master returned with a retinue of attendants in tow. While the establishment itself was expansive, this particular compartment was rather cramped. With the room suddenly crowded with panicked staff, I slipped out into the corridor and made my way toward what was supposed to have been the final chamber.
Stepping inside, I found the interior significantly more spacious than the last room. Phew. Now I can finally breathe.
Across the floor, a single sheet of paper caught my eye. Walking over, I picked it up and found a short passage inscribed in bold brushstrokes.
“Let’s see here...”
"If you wish to perceive a person’s true heart, look to their deeds. Do not lose yourself in brooding solitude under the pretext of honing your own blade. Do you grasp the meaning of these words?"
...What was this cryptic nonsense?
Had we navigated through all those intricate chambers just to find a piece of unsolicited advice? Stranger still, there was an odd familiarity to the handwriting. I racked my brain trying to place the brushwork, but no specific name came to mind, leaving me to merely squint at the text once more.
“What does it say?”
“Who knows. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with Daoist philosophy—whoa! Don't sneak up on me like that!”
Having slipped out of the sickroom unnoticed, Eun Ae-hyang was standing right behind me, peering over my shoulder at the slip of paper.
“What did Brother Mu Yeong tell you just now?” I asked.
“Nothing important,” she replied, abruptly turning her head away.
Really? Nothing important? Then why on earth did the tips of your ears flush bright red the second I asked?
Before I could pry further, a man approached us with hesitant, tentative steps.
“Excuse me...”
“Yes? What is it?”
“By any chance... are the two of you Daoist Master Cheongun and the Fine Needle in the Spring Breeze?”
“...I have no idea what you're talking about,” I replied, subtly averting my gaze.
The man continued undeterred. “My name is Gok U-myeong. I retired from the martial world some years ago and settled down here in Guangdong.”
“Ah. Greetings.”
“Still, what could possibly bring two esteemed figures like yourselves here in the dead of night? And to an establishment meant for the leisurely games of young folks, no less...”
“I assure you, you have the wrong people.”
Paying no heed to my denial, Gok U-myeong furrowed his brow, frantically digging through his memories as a sudden realization dawned on him. “Ah! Could it be that the two of y—oof!”
Before the words could fully leave his mouth, Gok U-myeong crumpled forward onto the floor.
Eun Ae-hyang had slipped behind him in the blink of an eye, striking the back of his neck with the pommel of her scabbard to knock him out cold.
She was right, of course. We couldn't afford anyone discovering that the two of us had met in secret in the dead of night. If rumors spread that even the Green Forest King had been entangled in our midnight rendezvous, the entire Jianghu would erupt into an uproar. Even if our current peace was merely a hollow veneer ready to crack at the slightest touch, losing even that fragile calm would spell disaster.
Nor could I afford to let too much time slip away, just as Mu Yeong had warned.
The moment one laid eyes upon the thirteen petals, it would already be far too late.
Yet that moment hadn't arrived just yet.
So for now, I would gather these fleeting moments, one small step at a time.