Plum Blossom Sword Baek-yeon
Yeonhwa got up before the dawn mist had even fully lifted and lit the brazier.
The jade plaque she’d set to blare an alarm at the crack of dawn had been wailing like it wanted to saw her ears off.
Well-seasoned oak logs crackled as they burned, spitting sparks into the air. The bright red flame licked at the bottom of the pot and heated the water from every angle.
Sizzle—ugh, if the bottom of the pot gets blackened again, I’ll have to scrape it clean later.
Yeonhwa drifted into thought as she watched the fire.
It was nice enough to stay and work at the inn thanks to Jangro Suksu, who had taken pity on her stranded, rootless self, but for some reason that only seemed to mean she’d been handed even more work.
It had already been several weeks since Yeonhwa had fallen into this world—or, at least, it felt more like months.
The forest of towering buildings, the cars honking and clogging the roads, the filthy air that no one here in Murim could ever imagine, the city lights and neon signs blazing even through the night, brighter than daytime itself—the memories of modern life were fading, one far-off image at a time.
In their place, only the smell of oil and stir-fried food at Mugung Hyeoptak, the sound of knives striking cutting boards, and Jangro Suksu’s thunderous shouts that shook the whole inn were slowly taking hold.
Boil, bubble—
The water in the pot began to tremble, then suddenly burst upward in a hiss of white steam.
***
Sometimes—very rarely—a strange thought would slip into her mind.
If this world is a dream, why does it feel so hot?
If this life is an illusion, why is it so hard?
The receiving jade plaque hanging on the kitchen wall gave a cheerful chime. The first order of the morning.
Order received: Xining South Gate Merchants’ Association - three plates of carbonara thin noodles, three plates of rosé thin noodles, and four plates of rolled omelet.
“Yeonhwa! The jade plaque’s ringing! Hurry up!”
At Jangro Suksu’s bellow, Yeonhwa shook off her daze and started boiling the noodles. The messengers from Baedal-ui Hojok were waiting outside, busily polishing the saddles of their steel Sugutas.
After finishing their morning deliveries, the messengers would return to a corner of the inn, sip warm tea, and trade rumors.
“There was a big fight in the North Sea. Seems the disciples of the Ice Palace got hit by assassins from the Demonic Cult.”
“Forget that—didn’t that Black Dragon Blade show up again? Wherever he goes, not even a blade of grass is left standing.”
Yeonhwa listened to their conversation while arranging the chopsticks. Black Dragon Blade, Cheol-ya... his gaze still seemed to linger in her memory.
And that promise he’d made to come back—it had somehow lodged itself in her heart, too.
Wait, no! I’m not saying his voice was nice! Well, it was nice, but that’s not the point! It’s just... because I know what loneliness feels like, what pain feels like... ahem. Damn it. Is my taste changing with this body too?
Yeonhwa stared for a long while at the calligraphy hanging on the wall.
What burns hotter than a blade is fire; what runs deeper than fire is the human heart.
“Yeonhwa!! The water’s boiling over!! Yeonhwa!!”
“Ah—yes! Yes!!”
As noon drew near, the inn door opened slowly.
It was a young man who looked barely past twenty, a handsome youth in a spotless white robe with a slender sword hanging at his waist. Plum blossom patterns were embroidered in small clusters on both his robe and scabbard.
A regular customer lowered his cup and murmured, “Plum blossom pattern... Mount Hua. To travel alone at such a young age...”
Hearing that, Yeonhwa thought, Whoa! Plum blossoms! Mount Hua! You know Mount Hua? Volcano! Volcano pizza! It’s seriously delicious! The words naturally chanting themselves in her head made her quietly bang her own skull against the table.
The young man looked around, then took a seat in an empty spot.
“I’d like a meal.”
Yeonhwa straightened her apron and approached him.
“What would you like, young hero?”
“Something plain.”
Yeonhwa fell into thought for a moment. His eyes were clear, but there was a tiredness in them, too. That was often the look of martial artists who had trained for too long.
He might have been in secluded cultivation, so something mild would be better than anything too stimulating.
So she suggested the first dish that came to mind.
“How about lotus-leaf rice and a clear seafood soup? It should soothe the palate and help replenish your energy.”
He gave a slight nod.
“Very well.”
Back in the kitchen, Yeonhwa relayed the order to Jangro Suksu.
Jangro Suksu clicked his tongue as he took out a lotus leaf.
“His eyes are too straight. He’s still never tasted the world’s cowardice. Those are the eyes that break first.”
He had seen it many times: the young and upright going out into the world full of spirit, only to be battered and bent by it.
Yeonhwa carefully rinsed the rice and warmed it through, then laid gingko nuts, jujubes, and chestnuts on the lotus leaf. As the steam rose, a soft, tranquil fragrance filled the kitchen.
For the seafood soup, she used a clear broth instead of red chili oil. Mild, clean, and refreshing rather than sharp and aggressive.
When she served the food, the young man slowly picked up his chopsticks. As he unfolded the lotus leaf, warm steam and a comforting aroma spread outward.
He took a cautious spoonful and closed his eyes for a moment as he swallowed.
“The fragrance is very calm. It feels as if the noise in my head has finally gone still.”
“You seemed to be in training, so I left out anything that might irritate the tongue.”
The young man opened his eyes. His clear gaze settled on Yeonhwa.
“This place doesn’t seem like an ordinary inn.”
Yeonhwa thought that was only natural. Honestly, where else was there an inn that mainly served Western food? Only here, surely. She’d thought maybe the entire Murim world had become like this, but apparently Mugung Hyeoptak was the only place in all of Central Plains doing it.
“Why do you say that?”
“The cook’s hand never hesitated. You’ve never held a sword, but you know where qi begins and where it flows. The balance between heat and ingredients is like a carefully constructed sword formula.”
Yeonhwa answered with a smile instead of words. How would I know?
Honestly, even if someone told me Jangro Suksu had been a Michelin three-star Western chef in his past life, I’d probably just go, Ah! So you were a modern school senior! and leave it at that. But this guy was saying he’d spent his whole life in Central Plains? Seriously?
That was when the inn door was shoved open again, this time with a rougher force.
Three men entered. They were dressed in black robes, and dark energy seemed to seep from their bodies in slow coils.
“Demonic Cult...!”
Someone muttered the words under his breath. The messengers, who had been preparing for deliveries, quietly killed the engines of their steel Suguta. The Demonic Cult men stopped the instant they spotted Baek-yeon.
“The Plum Blossom Sword of Mount Hua, Baek-yeon, wasting away in some shabby inn, peeling lotus leaves off rice.”
Baek-yeon slowly set down his spoon.
The moment before both sides looked ready to draw swords and tear into each other, Jangro Suksu emerged, lifting a ladle like a treasured blade.
“No swords are to be drawn in the inn before the food goes cold.”
The Demonic Cult men clicked their tongues and sat down.
Seeing that, Yeonhwa’s nerves eased.
As expected of our Jangro Suksu. Honestly, maybe he could beat Hwa-gyeong, Hyeon-gyeong, and even Saengsa-gyeong all by himself? In my head, he’s been the strongest all along.
Order received: Demonic Cult search party - three bowls of mala thin noodles, one spicy chicken galbi. Note: make it extremely spicy! Cook with full fire qi!
Before the fragrance of Baek-yeon’s clear seafood soup had even faded, the kitchen filled with the pungent scent of mala and the crackle of spicy chicken galbi hitting the heat.
Before long, the inn fell into a strange coexistence of silence and the sounds of eating.
On one side sat the young swordman savoring the gentle fragrance of lotus leaves; on the other, Demonic Cult martial artists slurped down their mala noodles with their mouths stained red.
“I heard the swords of Mount Hua have been weakening lately. Like branches bending before the wind.”
At the man’s words, spoken as he drank the spicy broth, Baek-yeon’s gaze cooled.
“Do you believe only rumors that drift by like the wind?”
“Then why not try cutting down that wind?”
Baek-yeon rose from his seat.
“Outside.”
The Demonic Cult men laughed and stood as well. They stepped out of the inn with him.
Clang! Crack!
The shrill collision of iron on iron rang from outside, and Yeonhwa swallowed hard without meaning to. Wow. I want to watch. But if I go out there now, a stray sword might turn me into Yeonhwa-pâté.
Thud.
A little while later, the door opened and Baek-yeon came back in first.
The hem of his white robe was torn slightly, but he didn’t seem to be injured.
The Demonic Cult men who came in after him had small cuts on their faces, but they no longer spoke. They sat down again and wordlessly finished the remaining noodles.
And so the thought that naturally came to Yeonhwa was, Wow. He got beaten three-on-one? Is this that “Thousand-Bloom” sect? So the “Heavenly Demon death beam” was weaker than a Bankai after all?
More likely, though, the fact that both sides were still alive meant the higher-level youth had shown restraint for the inn’s sake. If those three Demonic Cult men had truly been stronger, Baek-yeon would not have come back.
Outside, blades clashed; inside, chopsticks clacked. Even while they ate, they shot each other murderous looks, but neither side bothered provoking the other any further.
“Tsk. Let’s go.”
After the Demonic Cult men swallowed the last of their noodles in a hurry and left, Baek-yeon soon finished his own bowl as well.
When he set down a silver coin and looked at Yeonhwa, he asked, “What is your name?”
“Yeonhwa.”
“I am called Baek-yeon.”
He seemed to choose his words carefully, then added in a low voice, “I’ll come again. Next time... prepare something spicier than what those men were eating.”
Yeonhwa’s eyes widened. That had already been pretty spicy.
“I thought you only wanted something clear.”
“Today, I needed clarity. But the winds of the martial world grow hotter with each passing day. I should grow used to that taste as well.”
After Baek-yeon left, a regular customer who had been holding his breath let out a loud chuckle.
“Interesting. After the Black Dragon Blade, now the Plum Blossom Sword, Mount Hua’s hidden genius and sleeping dragon. The greatest talents in the world are gathering in this cramped little inn.”
“Regular customer, do you have some kind of title or not?”
“Can’t I just be a regular drunk of Mugung Hyeoptak?”
“That’s kind of lame.”
“To me, that’s cool enough.”