Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Emei Sect's Thousand-Year Flower
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Two days later, the sect examination arrived.
The Emei Sect disciples were lined up in front of the training grounds.
The examination came once every six months.
In the center of the grounds stood a wide examination platform.
A simple stone platform laid over the dirt floor. Though basic in structure, today it felt especially unfamiliar and frightening to Cheongwol.
Directly in front of the platform sat the examination seats, where the Sect Leader and the elders were positioned.
Their gazes quietly swept over the disciples.
The disciples stood in lines according to seniority, using the platform as the dividing line.
In the front row were the first-generation disciples, called the "pillars of the sect."
Behind them, the seasoned second-generation disciples.
And finally, at the rear, the still-inexperienced third-generation disciples.
"Cheongwol."
At that moment, someone whispered her name.
Among the second-generation disciples, only one person could address her by name.
Hye-yul, the head disciple of the second generation.
She spoke.
"...As I said, go easy on it a bit. Got it?"
Her tone was as laid-back and teasing as ever, but today it grated especially on Cheongwol's ears.
"If you shine too much, we end up looking too pathetic..."
Cheongwol replied with a short sigh.
"I told you. The Sect Leader has expectations. It's not easy."
"Come on, don't be like that... just tone it down a little... okay?"
"...Ha."
Normally, she would have ignored it, but today her nerves were particularly sharp.
Anxiety and tension before the exam coiled deep in her chest.
The recent chaotic events might have added to the pressure.
As such, Hye-yul's frivolous behavior—when she should have been the head disciple—felt especially unpleasant today.
In the end, Cheongwol spat out the words she had been holding back.
"If you had the spare time to make such requests, why not train a little harder?"
Hye-yul's smile slowly hardened.
"...What?"
"Do I have extra time, waking up at dawn every day to train? If you're ashamed of your skills, you should make the effort to overcome it. Why drag me down with you?"
Cheongwol's long-held frustrations were packed into those brief words.
She wanted to sleep in late too. She wanted to do nothing and rest.
But with her sole determination to improve her skills and her one desire for the Sect Leader's recognition, she had always pushed herself.
Hye-yul said.
"...Wol-ah, you're extra sensitive today?"
"You're the one who's excessively carefree. Aren't you afraid of the Sect Leader's evaluation?"
Once her mouth opened, it wouldn't close.
From the start, Cheongwol hadn't been close to her senior brothers and sisters due to her exceptional talent.
She also lacked time to mingle with them because of her training.
The proverb said a jagged stone gets chiseled.
So, since they were clashing anyway, she decided to see it through.
"Senior sister, the responsibilities you should bear are falling on me... Honestly, it's been tough lately. Doesn't the skill gap embarrass you? When will you start acting like a head disciple?"
A brief silence fell.
Those words were a clear provocation, crossing a line.
But considering the malice swirling in Cheongwol's heart lately, Hye-yul needed to realize this was her holding back a lot.
-Thud.
Cutting through the cold air, someone quietly interjected.
"Hye-yul senior sister, hold back."
It was Baekhui, one of the second-generation disciples.
She shot Cheongwol a sideways glance and said lowly.
"...Isn't Cheongwol senior sister's stiff attitude something that's gone on for a day or two? Enough."
Cheongwol's emotions surged again.
Pretending to intervene, yet steering it as if she were the problem.
Am I the one in the wrong?
You all just didn't train hard.
Why make me out to be the weird one.
She glared at Baekhui and muttered.
"...Baekhui. You watch yourself this time too. Don't slip up in the sect examination."
Baekhui's brow furrowed slightly.
"...I put in effort too. Don't worry."
At those words, Cheongwol swallowed a hollow laugh.
Doing just what everyone else does every day—that's effort?
Sure, that might be your idea of effort.
But the standard for effort is subjective.
****
As expected, it was dismal.
Cheongwol watched Hye-yul struggling through her forms on the platform.
What she displayed was the Shaoyang Sword Technique.
The foundational essence of the Emei Sect's swordsmanship.
Hye-yul went through each of the seven forms one by one, but in Cheongwol's eyes, it all fell short.
Sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow.
Hye-yul's appearance, panting heavily and forcing the forms, seemed not just pitiful but pathetic.
Whose idea was it to expect good reviews without putting in effort?
To Cheongwol, who had stepped into first-class realm, these second-class movements looked utterly crude.
Thus, the dismal forms continued one by one until the seventh and final form ended.
Hye-yul clasped her hands in greeting toward the Sect Leader and awaited evaluation.
Cheongwol perked her ears too.
After a short silence, Muwol Satae spoke.
"...You put in effort. It's improved from before."
It was unexpected.
The words came with a brief smile.
Cheongwol felt momentary relief.
Today, the Sect Leader seemed a bit more lenient.
In the previous first-generation disciples' exams, and even Hye-yul's.
Not one received a scolding.
Hye-yul's tense face brightened.
"Th-thank you."
"The gaps have lessened, and your power has improved. Most of the issues pointed out in the last exam are gone."
Hye-yul replied excitedly.
"It's all thanks to Master's teachings."
Hearing that, Hye-yul's master among the first-generation disciples smiled pleasedly.
Praise, thanks, and brief advice.
Thus, Hye-yul's exam concluded smoothly.
"Hu..."
Cheongwol quietly exhaled.
Now it was her turn next.
As she steadied her mind, Muwol Satae’s voice rang out.
"Next, Cheongwol."
A quiet hush fell over the grounds.
Everyone present knew.
How special Cheongwol was.
No first-generation disciple had reached first-class at her age.
In fact, rumors even said some first-generation disciples still lagged behind her in skill.
She hadn't even properly stepped onto the central plains' grand stage yet, but the moniker "Emei Sect's Thousand-Year Flower" was already on the lips of various sects.
-Step.
As such a Cheongwol ascended the platform, naturally all eyes focused on her.
Yet even someone who appeared so strong had one thing she was hiding.
...She was terribly afraid right now.
Recalling past exams, today's atmosphere was clearly milder. The Sect Leader's tone, her expression.
But the moment she stood on stage, all that became meaningless.
The tension remained unchanged.
Perhaps her fear stemmed from all the effort she had poured in so far.
Enduring drowsiness, agonizing, continuing meditation...
Days when calluses tore and bled, yet she gripped the sword again for training.
...If only she had done nothing, she might have been less scared.
Sleepless nights, dawns rising again.
She feared all that time crumbling away.
Cheongwol said.
"...Second-generation disciple of the Emei Sect, Cheongwol, requests instruction."
Muwol Satae and the elders nodded.
At the same time, Cheongwol slowly raised her wooden sword and closed her eyes.
She gently awakened the qi trembling in fear within her dantian.
It would be fine.
The Sect Leader was more lenient today than usual.
With a deep breath, her sword began to dance.
Like flowing water, brushing wind.
The sword traced soft lines in the air.
'Wow...'
'...So cool.'
Low exclamations leaked from the third-generation disciples.
Even in their eyes, her swordsmanship looked extraordinary.
Cheongwol could feel the countless gazes upon her.
Thus, as admiration and held breaths accumulated one by one, her anxious heart gradually settled.
Now it was okay, she thought she could believe that.
She just needed to display the skills honed through endless training.
Sometimes fast. Sometimes strong.
Just like the real combat sensation from when she killed the bandits...
"-Stop."
But in that instant, a sharp command halted Cheongwol's forms.
The flowing demonstration cut off like a blade.
The examination stopped at the fourth form.
"..."
Stunned, Cheongwol froze in an awkward stance and looked at the Sect Leader.
Even the elders seemed taken aback by Muwol Satae's sudden interruption.
But only Muwol Satae gazed at Cheongwol with unchanging eyes.
She spoke.
"...Your framework."
At that single word, Cheongwol anticipated the follow-up.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She wanted to block her ears too, but she couldn't.
With third-generation disciples watching, she grimaced.
Muwol Satae continued.
"...Your framework is too sloppy, Wol-ah."
****
When she came to, it was dark night.
Beside the now-empty examination platform, Cheongwol sat alone.
Her senior brothers and sisters occasionally watched her odd behavior from afar, but none approached to comfort her.
Cheongwol was a difficult senior sister, and they weren't close to begin with.
The word "siblings" felt empty; their distance was like strangers.
Perhaps that's why the Sect Leader's evaluation hit her so hard.
For her, who had lost her parents and wasn't close to her siblings.
...In the end, the only one she could call family was the Sect Leader.
"..."
She sensed a presence.
Cheongwol slowly opened her closed eyes.
She knew she should stand properly with etiquette, but her body wouldn't obey.
Shoulders slumped, head bowed to the ground.
She sat there quietly, yet firmly planted.
"...Go inside now."
Muwol Satae whispered.
Cheongwol didn't respond.
She couldn't understand what all her effort had amounted to.
Even in the evaluation half a year ago, all she got was scolding.
So she clung harder.
Hoping for even a little recognition, she gripped her sword first at the training ground near the Sect Leader's quarters, training later than anyone.
She tried to be diligent as the Sect Leader taught. Consistent.
She didn't even expect lavish praise as reward.
Just a nod would have made her happy for days.
Yet this evaluation too. Nearly a year without a single kind word.
"...At the very least."
Her voice was low, but the resentment in her heart seeped deeply.
"...At the very least, if you saw my effort, shouldn't you say it in front of everyone?"
Muwol Satae was firm.
"...Your skills have regressed. How could I praise that?"
"Regressed?"
Those words became the trigger.
Then what about the time I invested?
The loneliness I endured?
All my desperate efforts to be acknowledged—what does that make me?
Cheongwol rose, propping herself on trembling hands against the ground.
She stared straight at Muwol Satae with heated eyes.
"Did you just say regressed?"
"Yes, regressed."
"Would you not say that if I became as dismal as Hye-yul senior sister...?"
"Don't speak ill of your senior sister."
"It's not okay to speak ill of senior sister, but it's fine for the Sect Leader to scold me endlessly?"
Muwol Satae closed her eyes tightly and let out a short sigh.
"...Wol-ah. I try to view my disciples without bias. Some have innate talent, others progress slower. Thus, I only look at how much an individual has grown. Not comparing to others, just whether they're better than their yesterday."
The more they talked, the stickier Cheongwol's chest felt.
"...Innate talent?"
She couldn't hold back a hollow laugh.
"Do you think, Sect Leader, that I've reached this level purely through innate talent?"
That denied all her efforts so far.
"Is the difference in talent all there is? Truly, do you not see the time and effort I put in?"
"Wol-ah, I—"
"—No one puts in effort like I do!"
Cheongwol cried out.
A choked sob burst forth.
"My skills aren't the product of talent! They're the price of my time, pain, and effort! No one else trains like I do!! I can't understand why only I get scolded in this situation!! Is 'good job' really that hard to say!!"
Once her mouth burst open, it wouldn't stop.
Just like with Hye-yul. Lately, the knot in her chest had definitely grown.
"Is one word of praise from you all that matters, no matter my skill?"
Muwol Satae didn't yield.
"Wol-ah, are you betting your entire life on my praise, on one word from me?"
Cheongwol shook her head.
Muwol Satae still didn't understand.
"No. That's not it. But... who was it that pressured me?"
"..."
"Could I have acted differently...? 'Emei Sect's future,' 'once-in-a-thousand-years talent'...!! Wasn't it you who placed that burden on me? You throw that burden arbitrarily! Yet ignore my efforts to bear it!! Do you think it's fair to scold me for not meeting your standards!"
Muwol Satae's eyes wavered briefly.
"All that burden came from you, Sect Leader. Crushed under that weight, I tried to endure to the end. Why pretend not to see me striving under that weight?"
Cheongwol gently clutched her throat.
"Breath..."
She pleaded earnestly.
"...I can't breathe, Sect Leader...!!"
Muwol Satae stood frozen for a long while.
Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly.
She was agonizing.
Preparing some words to say.
But Cheongwol didn't want to hear them.
Whatever she said, it wouldn't ease this wound, she thought.
She hurriedly turned her body.
She didn't want to stay here anymore.
"Wol-ah!"
Ignoring the call from behind, she ran.
In an instant, she fled the Emei Sect into the dense darkness of Mount Emei.
The promise to avoid going out at night was long forgotten.
Even as her breath reached her chin, she kept running.
As the Sect Leader's face faded from her mind, resentment gave way to anger filling the void.
Why.
Why only me.
The violent emotions grew formlessly.
Rejected even among siblings,
not acknowledged by the Sect Leader,
then why keep clinging to the rules she'd upheld so stubbornly?
Why train at dawn every day,
why swallow tasteless food,
why smile before vulgar laymen's rudeness,
why not retreat before frightening unorthodox sects,
and even in battle,
why insist on no killing to the end?
"Haa... haa..."
Running and running, she reached deep into the mountains.
Cheongwol panted, then unleashed a pent-up scream in one burst.
"Aaahhh!!!"
A cry of pain that seemed to shake the entire mountain.
Yet the stifling knot in her heart didn't unravel.
...If only.
...If only she hadn't followed the Sect Leader from the beginning...
"Eup...!"
As the dark thought flashed, Cheongwol covered her mouth, dry-heaving.
Her body trembled.
She shook her head fiercely.
No.
Now she could clearly see it.
This was definitely a heart demon.
The twisting force trying to erode her now was the energy of a heart demon.
No. She mustn't think like this.
She mustn't lose her original resolve. She must recall the Sect Leader's grace.
But no matter how she repeated it, her heart sank stickily.
This heart demon... please, somehow...
"...Ah."
And in that desperate moment, one person came to mind.
'A space for resolving heart demons!'
That unfamiliar, bizarre shout revived in her ears.
At that crossroads of choice, Cheongwol stood still for a long time.
Motionless, just standing quietly in the darkness.
****
"Man, this is good."
Munching on mixed vegetable rice by the spoonful, I muttered to myself alone.
It had already been three days since that incident with Cheongwol.
Nothing had happened.
As each day passed, the pressure weighing on me gradually faded.
See.
People avoid filth like me because they don't want to get involved.
Even if Cheongwol was the crazy girl who killed people, she was far from vulgarity.
Noble and elegant...
I kept shoveling food while muttering.
"Man, so good, really."
...Like a swan.
Now I was ready to fully let go of the fear.
Thinking back, Cheongwol must have realized not a word of mine was wrong.
Everyone knows setting up a torture chamber here— one scream and it's over.
So she probably decided to just forget it.
Let's do that, both of us.
I'll forget seeing your slaughterhouse, so you forget seeing my basement.
I should restart the instrument crafting I'd put on hold lately.
What to make next?
Tail ornament?
-Bang!!
At that moment, the door burst open.
Startled by the noise, I flipped my rice bowl.
-Splat!
"..."
Frozen like a deer in headlights, I stared at the figure who had blown open the door in the dead of night.
"...Huh."
...Why are you here.
With disheveled hair, harsh breaths, she approached.
...Her eyes.
Damn, her eyes are messed up.
"...Fix it."
She muttered something.
"...Pardon?"
Step by step, she drew near.
I stood from the chair and backed away.
But in this cramped space, there was no corner to flee.
Soon cornered against the wall, Cheongwol stopped before me.
"...Try fixing it."
Her beautiful face loomed before me.
But I couldn't meet her eyes, rolling mine side to side as I asked again.
"...Wh-what..."
"...I'll go along with the rest...!"
Cheongwol raised her voice.
Gritting her teeth, she looked up at me.
Only then did I look at her properly for the first time.
And I was shocked.
...Can a person's face show such agony?
Cheongwol pleaded desperately.
"So...! Do something about this heart demon!"