What is Heresy?
Yeon A-rang thought, Demonic is evil, and Orthodox is good. Even a three-year-old knows that much. Then what exactly is heresy? They say heresy is evil as well.
"Nonsense!" The old beggar in the marketplace spat the words with sudden fire. His clothes were ragged, and a gourd rested before him. A true beggar. He had gathered children too young for proper schooling and was spraying spittle as he spoke. The ones whose faces caught the spray wrinkled their noses. One of them was me.
"Heresy? Where in this wide world is there a faction that willingly lowers itself?"
It was the same line he always used. Both demonic and heretical carried the meaning of self-debasement, so who would ever boast of such a label? Everyone knew the words, yet no one spoke them aloud. After all, this was Honam—the domain of the Orthodox factions.
The beggar before us was not even a full member of the Beggars’ Union, merely an apprentice. "Ever since the Great Orthodox-Demonic War, the balance of power has shifted overnight!" And indeed the war had already ended—with the Orthodox sects victorious. That outcome was only natural. Had the Heavenly Demon Cult won, they would have renamed themselves the Divine Cult instead.
"The imperial court hesitated too long beyond the frontier, and because of that the common folk were pulled up like weeds!" In the war’s aftermath the Five Great Clans, the Sichuan Tang Clan, and the Nine Great Sects all lost strength. "The Nangong Clan lost the Imperial Sword Form, the Tang Clan lost the Thousand Blossoms Rain! Other sects lost comparable secret arts, and the rage of those who had nowhere left to direct it eventually turned upon the common people."
More precisely, their treasures were destroyed and their secret manuals burned. The only house that preserved most of its power was the Zhuge Clan; because they had relied on strategy rather than raw martial force, their losses were comparatively light. Once the demonic forces collapsed, the Five Great Clans broke the unwritten rule against preying on the common folk and began to extort them.
"After chaos comes more chaos—when will the waves of the Yangtze ever settle?"
The beggar’s heated speech continued, yet no one was truly listening. It was a story everyone had heard a hundred times before.
—Haaah. One child let out a long yawn. The beggar snatched up a twig and rapped the offender on the head. I wanted to yawn as well, but after watching the child wail with tears streaming down his face, I forced the urge back down.
The reason I endured the tedious lecture was simple: when the beggar finished, he always handed out sweet acorns. "Here. Take one, blind boy." Thanks to him, Yeon A-rang would not go hungry today.
* * *
Five years ago, on a snowy winter night, my eye sockets were gouged out. A dull story. Common street thugs—not even third-rate martial artists—broke into our home. My father and mother were beheaded on the spot; my sister was sold to a brothel. While she begged them to spare me, bound and weeping, they drove their fingers into my eyes without mercy and scooped them out. "We left you your life, so be grateful." I was eight years old at the time. Five years have passed since then; I am now thirteen.
—Crunch. The acorn tasted unusually astringent today, yet I chewed it anyway. I was not particularly hungry, but the motion soothed an empty mouth. Gripping a wooden staff, I rose from the stone wall and began walking forward. When people ask whether a blind man fears the path ahead, the answer is no. Everyone simply steps aside—whether out of pity for a cripple or disgust at my filthy appearance. I suspect both. That is why I named my particular gait the Pity-and-Filth Step. It has a meaning but no profound principle, so no one would bother stealing it, and even if they did, there would be nothing to gain. After all, it was never a martial art—only the way a blind boy walks.
While I wandered aimlessly, someone called my name. "A-rang!" The voice was clear and familiar. Light footsteps approached, and a hand settled on my shoulder. "You went to the beggar again?"
"Here. Take this." I offered her one of the acorns.
"I don’t need it."
"Still, the chewing is pleasant."
"Ugh! How can you trust anything that beggar gives you…?"
The girl making exaggerated retching noises was Yi So-so, daughter of the Ihwa Inn and my oldest friend. She took my hand. "Young lady, I’m dirty."
"Don’t call me that!" She shuddered as though ants were crawling over her skin and shook my hand off, then thrust a broom into it. "Here. Sweep from here to there. Then you can eat today."
"Telling a blind man ‘from here to there’… isn’t that a bit much?"
"Watch your tone. You’ve done this every day; you understand even if I speak vaguely!"
Yi So-so huffed indignantly. When I smiled at her scolding, she cleared her throat in embarrassment and got to the point. "They say an honored guest will descend from the mountain today, so we need the place clean quickly."
"Descend from the mountain?" Only one great sect was rooted on Mount Hyeong in Honam. "You mean someone from the Hyeongsan Sect?"
"Who else would it be?"
The Hyeongsan Sect was one of the Nine Great Sects. Because they drew upon the natural energy of the mountains, they were called the Sacred Peaks, and together with four other mountains they formed the Five Peaks. Among those five, the Mount Hua Sect was traditionally regarded as the leader—yet if anyone asked whether the Hyeongsan Sect lagged behind, the people of Honam would shake their heads. Their sect leader, the Countless Swords, had personally severed the head of one of the Twelve Demon Lords.
"I wonder how magnificent he must be!" Yi So-so clasped her hands, eyes sparkling.
"Why would someone of that stature visit a tiny inn like this?"
"A tiny inn? A tiny inn?! You’re being rude!"
"No, if you think about it, it really is strange…"
"Hmph! Just sweep!"
Yi So-so stormed off in a temper. I began sweeping the courtyard with the broom.
* * *
I was sitting on the ground when Yi So-so returned and held out a white cloth. "Here. Your wages for today." When I unfolded it, the aroma of steamed buns drifted up. "Usually there’s only one. Auntie must be in a good mood."
"What do you take my mother for…?"
I stuffed a bun into my mouth. Yi So-so sat down beside me. She had changed into fine clothes, as though she were the daughter of a noble house, in preparation for the important visitor from Hyeongsan.
"Nice clothes. You’ll get dirt on them."
"How would you know they’re nice when you can’t see?"
—Gulp. "I may not see, but I can boast that my ears are sharper than anyone’s. That’s fine silk."
"Just fine? It’s beautiful. Of course, my own beauty still outshines it!"
"If you say so…"
"Don’t think of me the way I looked as a child. I’ve grown a lot and become very pretty."
In truth, I still pictured Yi So-so as the eight-year-old girl she had been. Whether she reached fifteen, twenty, thirty, or even forty, in my mind she would always remain that little child.
"How disappointing."
"Huh? What is?"
"The thought that the young lady who used to wet the bed and throw tantrums is gone now feels rather sad."
"Eek! You still remember that?!"
"It happened when the girl was seven."
"Forget it! Forget it right now!"
Blushing furiously, Yi So-so began pounding on my head. —Thwack! Thwack! "Ow… that really hurts. Could you stop…?"
"Really forget it!"
"I’ll forget if you stop!"
Whether it was the Eighteen Arhats of Shaolin or the Countless Swords of Hyeongsan, the eighteen head-beating techniques Yi So-so unleashed were more than enough to rattle my soul. Just then a voice called from the inn. "So-so!"
"Your mother’s calling."
"Huh? Really?"
"Yes, really. So stop hitting me now."
"…If this is a lie, I’ll hit you ten times harder."
"Are you the daughter of the Tang Clan or something…?"
Yi So-so stuck out her tongue and dashed toward the inn. I pressed my fingers against my head, checking for lumps. "Haaah…"
If someone asked whether I was tired of this repeating routine, I could answer without hesitation that I was not. In these chaotic times, an orphan without parents—blind, no less—should be grateful simply to eat every day. Yet I sighed for another reason entirely.
"Is today the last time?"
Because tomorrow this routine would break. I had not read the heavens or glimpsed the future. "Time really is merciless. So-so is going to the academy."
Yu Yeong-hwa, owner of the inn and Yi So-so’s mother, had never looked kindly upon me. —Munch. Naturally. The steamed buns she gave away so freely were difficult to obtain and were her best-selling item; why would she hand them to a mere yard-sweeper? The only reason she tolerated me was because her only daughter regarded me with a mixture of pity and long familiarity. Of course, that familiarity was not affection but simple habit, yet kindness was still kindness. I accepted it gratefully.
"Well… if I hadn’t received it, I would probably be dead in a ditch by now."
Which meant that once So-so left tomorrow, Yu Yeong-hwa would very likely drive me out. After finishing the buns I stood and brushed the dirt from my clothes. Sounds I had not heard all day drifted to my ears: the clear notes of a zither and boisterous laughter, the sharp scent of alcohol. Evening had fully arrived on the street.
"Since today’s work is done and So-so will be busy preparing for the academy, she won’t be able to come out anyway."
In the spare moments between chores I often walked. The roads had not changed from past to present, and because the ever-shifting crowds always made way for me, I moved forward without hindrance. After walking for some time I reached a quiet pavilion. It had once hosted banquets, but now it was neglected and forgotten—my own secret place.
—Rustle. I sat on the railing and gazed at the pond whose water did not drain properly. "Not even a single carp, let alone insects." A stench sharper than alcohol stung my nose. The stagnant water had rotted; there was no telling where to begin cleaning it. Still, since no one came here because of the smell, the place suited my desire for solitude. In a way, that was a blessing.
"Isn’t that right, sir?"
—Shing. "…How did you know?"
The chilling sound of a blade being drawn rang in my ears. The sword was undoubtedly aimed at my neck.
"If you ask how I knew, well… this pavilion is a place I visit often. I noticed the smell of blood that is never here otherwise. Would that answer suffice?"
"…A bold brat for a blind boy. Even if you notice such things, you should pretend you don’t."
I turned my head toward the source of the voice. —Twitch. The blade trembled slightly, yet the man showed no real intent to strike. I had learned a few things while crawling through this world.
"It wasn’t out of curiosity." Curiosity was poison. Even if it did not bind you now, it would become a deadly shackle someday. "And if you plan to stay long, I recommend burning something to keep the mosquitoes away. The water is stagnant."
Even the wicked could not immediately show malice toward a small kindness. After a brief silence the sword slid back into its sheath.
"…I’ll be leaving soon."
"Is that so." I smiled and took out the acorn I had meant to give So-so. "Are you hungry?"
"…"
The one-eyed man looked incredulous. I had claimed it was not curiosity, yet here I was speaking to him again—and offering a single acorn no larger than a fingertip. What could that possibly do to fill a stomach?
"…Haaah. Give it here."
"Yes!"
He accepted the acorn even though he was not truly hungry. —Crunch. —Munch. "…"
The man studied me while chewing. I simply smiled, pleased for some reason. Being able to smile is a great blessing. Therefore I must not give this boy any affection. That was the way of Murim. Any entanglement would surely turn blessing into calamity. The man who thought this was none other than Paeng Yong-su, the Seven Evil Swords.
Paeng Yong-su rose to leave the pavilion. "Is the pond green or black? At night it must be black."
"…"
"Doesn’t the smell bother you?"
"…"
"What shape is the moon?"
"Haaah…!" How could one boy ask so many questions? Just as irritation began to rise, the man clearly saw it: beneath the pavilion’s shadow, moonlight fell upon A-rang, whose index finger was pressed to his lips. It was no secret code, only a gesture every person who lived in the world understood.
Be quiet…?
Before he could ask the reason, the bushes rustled. Paeng Yong-su’s expression changed and he slipped beneath the pavilion. How swift. I calmly turned my head toward the figure emerging from the undergrowth.
"Child, answer honestly." The deep voice struck my eardrums like a hammer. The words carried thorns. My whole body ached and my head throbbed, yet if I did not reply at once, the old man’s killing intent would cleave me in two.
"What would you have me say?"
"Is the one-eyed demon here?"
His tone was certain. Of course it was. With the scent of blood so thick, no martial artist—especially one of his caliber—could fail to notice.
"A demon… If you mean a person bleeding, then yes, there was one."
"A person?" The old man appeared before me in an instant. "I dislike games, and time is short. Where is he?"
"If I said he left long ago, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?"
"You understand well."
The old man struck the pavilion floor with his scabbard. He already knew the man’s location. The fact that he still asked meant he had a purpose. So I asked in return, "Then what answer would satisfy you?"
"Tell the truth."
"Hmm…"
Honestly, the simplest thing was to speak plainly. I had no particular bond with the man hiding beneath the pavilion, and it was obvious who was righteous and who was wicked. "I didn’t see him."
"…Think carefully, child. Do you truly wish to step into this matter?"
The old man warned me. A few exchanged words could drag me into a blood-soaked future. Yet I had spoken only the truth. "I truly cannot see."
I opened my clouded eyes wide so he could see them. "Therefore I have no way of knowing whether the person you seek is a demon or a man, wicked or righteous, or where he went."
"…Cheeky brat."
The old man sat on the railing. "My name is Paeng Muk-do." The Paeng Clan was one of the Five Great Clans that represented Hebei, and they were known for using sabers. Moreover, the old man had introduced himself as "this lord." "You are the former Clan Lord of the Paeng Clan."
"I have already stepped down from the front lines." Which meant he was not the current Clan Lord but the Grand Elder.
"Then why are you chasing someone?"
"Because that person’s name is Paeng Yong-su."
"Your family."
"…Not anymore."
There was clearly a complicated story. The fact that Paeng Muk-do knew Paeng Yong-su’s location yet deliberately delayed the confrontation was part of that story as well.
"May I call you elder?"
"Do as you like."
This was extremely dangerous, yet what had already happened could not be undone. "Would you like an acorn?"
"An acorn…?"
I took one from my robe and offered it. "The other man seemed quite hungry. He chewed for a very long time."
"…"
Paeng Muk-do had been about to refuse, but after hearing those words he hesitated, accepted the acorn, and bit into it. "Bitter."
"I find them edible."
"…No, it’s bitter. Even when ripe, acorns are astringent. This one wasn’t even properly matured."
Yet even as he grumbled he swallowed it, face twisted. The vibration of his throat brought a smile to my lips. "If it was difficult to eat, you could have spat it out. You’re quite the adult."
"……"
Paeng Muk-do’s expression grew even stranger than when he had swallowed the bitter acorn. "You are a truly peculiar child. You look about fifteen, yet far too mature."
"Is that praise?"
"Merely an observation. Speaking with you feels like conversing with an old man of my own age."
"That was an insult."
I swung my legs back and forth. Paeng Muk-do, having noticed Paeng Yong-su beneath the pavilion regulating his breathing and recovering strength, spoke again. "When will you leave?"
Clearly, once I departed, Paeng Muk-do would strike at the wounded Paeng Yong-su. This place would no longer be a shelter but a battlefield.
"I suppose I should leave soon. I have no proper place to stay anyway."
"No place to stay?"
I briefly recounted my life up to now. The only reason a blind boy like me had survived was thanks to her kindness, and that same person would be leaving for the academy tomorrow. Understanding everything, Paeng Muk-do stroked his beard. "I see… Then tomorrow will be difficult for you."
"It will, won’t it?"
Sweeping the front yard all day for only two steamed buns was excessive. It was nothing more than pity. Even if I begged to reduce it to one bun, there was no telling how long that would last.
"So I must leave in search of my own way to live."
"…Struggling just to survive a single day…"
"Everyone lives that way. It’s only that I have received more kindness than my circumstances warranted."
"…"
Paeng Muk-do closed his eyes, lost in thought. After a long silence he opened them again, as though he had reached a decision. "If you’ve rested enough, come out."
—Rustle. At his words Paeng Yong-su straightened his back. "Father."
"The bond between father and son was severed long ago. Do not call me father, you demon."
"……"
I listened to their conversation with growing confusion. Paeng Muk-do was clearly the retired Grand Elder. Then the man calling him father could only be… "Is the eldest brother doing well as Clan Lord?"
Ah. So he was not the Clan Lord himself. In any case, I did not let their words pass me by.
"Of course he is doing well. Far better than a wretch who brought ruin to the house instead of showing filial piety."
"…I still regret it. But spilled water cannot be gathered."
—Boom! Paeng Muk-do’s fury erupted and his fist struck a pillar. The pavilion tilted slightly but did not collapse. "Fine! Today I will display your head in Hebei!"
Paeng Muk-do drew his saber and stepped outside the pavilion. Paeng Yong-su followed. I watched them from a distance.
"Father, I know I have committed unfilial acts, but I hardly deserve to be treated as a traitor."
"Silence!!!!" The roar nearly burst my eardrums. "Merely stepping onto the path of the unorthodox is a crime of treason that the clan cannot tolerate!"
"To restore our lost martial arts, this was the fastest method."
"By forcing the meridians open with demonic blood, of course you would grow stronger! But the backlash would not be so easily endured!"
"Yes. My remaining lifespan is at most one year."
"You bastard!!!"
Paeng Muk-do’s hair whipped about as the surrounding air trembled. Paeng Yong-su, his wounds not yet healed, gripped his sword tightly even as cold sweat ran down his face. And I, listening from afar…
"What in the world is going on…"
My head spun. Their conversation alone was shocking enough, but why had the Grand Elder and the younger brother of the Paeng Clan Lord—representatives of Hebei—come all the way to Honam to settle a life-and-death duel? And in the very place I cherished? Was this what people called a fortuitous encounter, something seen only once in a lifetime?
—Clang! If this was a fortuitous encounter…
—Boom! Trees fell and stones flew. If this was a fortuitous encounter…
"Haaah…"
I would gladly hand this encounter over to someone else. The outcome was decided in an instant. Paeng Yong-su’s left arm was severed, blood spraying into the air. "Is that all the strength you desired?"
"…Kh!"
I had never witnessed a battle between supreme masters—or any martial artists—before, and I could not understand what was so desirable about it. —Step. Paeng Muk-do approached the kneeling Paeng Yong-su. "Seven Evil Swords Paeng Yong-su. For the sake of that paltry strength you walked the unorthodox path and slaughtered eighteen innocent retainers. This is a sin even immortals cannot forgive."
"…Do you truly believe those vile wretches were innocent?"
"That is for your elder brother to judge."
"…If that is what you believe, then kill me."
"I intend to."
Moonlight gleamed along the blade. —Slash! Paeng Yong-su’s head came off cleanly and rolled across the ground. Paeng Muk-do, eyes tightly shut, shook the blood from his saber. "Child."
"Yes."
Paeng Muk-do regarded me with dead eyes. "Having witnessed this, do you still wish to involve yourself in this matter?"
"If there is no other way, then I have no choice."
"It would be better to starve to death."
"Is there anything better than death?"
"The process differs."
"Then I would rather die well-fed and in good color."
"…Haaaaah."
Contrary to his earlier threat of public execution, Paeng Muk-do took out a cloth and carefully wrapped Paeng Yong-su’s head. "Speak nothing of today’s events."
I clasped my hands in salute. Paeng Muk-do, shoulders slumped, walked toward the bushes from which he had emerged. "Even a fleeting connection is still a connection. The Night Sword that my son carried is now yours. May its edge last even a single day longer."
"Go safely, elder."
"Haha… safely… Your final words are rather harsh."
With that, Paeng Muk-do disappeared. I picked up the sword left behind. The hilt still held Paeng Yong-su’s lingering warmth. Our meeting had been extremely brief, yet the worn grip spoke volumes about the years he had spent wielding it. "This should be useful."
I dug a grave for the headless Paeng Yong-su and offered a bow. Then dawn broke.