Calculated Kindness

“There is no need to grant the same wish twice, now is there?”

“What is that supposed to—”

Gal Mu-heun laughed, as though Yun Cheon's reaction were the most entertaining thing he had seen all day.

“Hahaha. That request has already been made of me — by Cadet Yu Ha, no less. Word has already gone out to the Demonic Physician, the Life and Death Venerable himself. So name a different wish.”

“…Yu Ha did?”

In that instant, the face of Yu Ha — smiling like a sleek, coiling serpent — flashed across Yun Cheon's mind. The man had seen straight through everything: what Yun Cheon wanted, and which path he would choose to take. All of it.

So this is the investment he spoke of. Placing exactly what he needed into his hands one step ahead of the moment he needed it — and thereby sinking him into debt. It was utterly like Yu Ha.

That sly fox…

Now that fate had unexpectedly spared his Black Steel Tablet, Yun Cheon deliberated for a moment. What would be best to ask of the Pavilion Lord?

It is not as if I failed to earn a tablet of my own — which means he had a reason to spend his first, at this precise moment.

The answer came swiftly. …He means for me to hold mine in reserve for now. If it were that man, he would surely have said exactly that.

He had just finished sorting his thoughts to reply when Gal Mu-heun spoke first.

“A weighty choice, I imagine. Take your time. Thanks to that bout you fought with Instructor Jeok Mu-gwang, this Pavilion Lord has been standing a good deal taller of late.”

Gal Mu-heun wore the leisurely air of a man in no rush to see a tablet spent.

“Heh heh… Even those who used to dismiss the instructorship as a post for idle men have been coming to me, begging leave to meet you just once.”

Not a treasured blade, not a secret manual, not an elixir — the reward had been a single, plain Black Steel Tablet. And with that alone, Yun Cheon could now flaunt a prestige beyond anything those prizes could buy. In the Heavenly Demon Cult, which worshipped strength above all else, a promising talent carried exactly that much weight. How could a man not smile, simply looking at Yun Cheon?

“Do you know how many of them there are? The Inspection Bureau, the Ten Thousand Demon Hall, the Black Shadow Unit, the Blood Wolf Unit… combat divisions and special detachments alike — every one of them wants you. You could walk through any door in the Cult. All that remains is for you to choose.”

Where did Yun Cheon wish to go? If the meeting with the Demonic Physician comes to pass…

His next objective was clear: somewhere that would bring him closer to the summit — closer to the Heavenly Demon himself. But an abducted child could hardly blurt out such a thing unprompted, and so Yun Cheon resolved to reveal only as much measured ambition as Gal Mu-heun would find believable.

“…I have been taught that our Cult holds strength as its highest value. Anywhere I can become strong will serve.”

“Heh heh. A fine attitude. You are still young. No — young doesn't cover it. A child, really.”

Yet there was no mockery in Gal Mu-heun's tone.

“Enjoy that privilege. Which is more enviable, I ask you — reaching one's peak at forty, or reaching it at twenty?”

Most would choose the latter without hesitation, for one who peaked at twenty gained a full twenty extra years to train before forty. In truth, however, no one could predict how far a warrior who broke through a wall might yet climb, and it was hardly rare for those who surpassed the wall young to linger at their peak for the rest of their lives. Even so, people invariably held those who reached the peak in their youth in higher regard.

“The latter.”

“I am precisely the former. Past forty when I reached my peak. I was a scholar who did little but read, so my start was late to begin with.”

Even generously, though, Gal Mu-heun still looked a man in his forties, and Yun Cheon tilted his head. …His realm stands beyond Peak. And yet he does not seem to be one of those masters whose years have run backward.

“But if anything, that very lateness gave me time to burrow into the profound formulas of the orthodox sects without being swept up in the madness of the demonic arts. So I reached my peak late, yes — but the wall beyond it came far easier to me than to most. Before I turned fifty, in fact.”

Gal Mu-heun gave a hearty laugh.

“But who in the demonic path would employ an old man who did nothing but read? Which is precisely how I came to be nailed to this place — the Mad Path Pavilion. No doubt with the understanding that I was to sort through the manuals plundered from the Central Plains.”

Self-mockery ran through his voice, along with a cold, clear-eyed grasp of reality.

I see… so he has his own story as well. Now his method of evaluation finally makes sense. The Mad Path Pavilion's comprehensive assessment was a system Gal Mu-heun had devised precisely because he himself had come late to the martial path — one that measured not present attainment, but how quickly a student grew.

“…And so this Pavilion Lord hopes that you, with your road stretching bright ahead of you, will not tread the same ground I did. That talent of yours would be a waste, snapped far too easily. Ignorantly throwing your body about is not the whole of the martial arts. Do not rush — learn your letters.”

Gal Mu-heun's gaze settled on Yun Cheon and stayed. His eyes no longer belonged to a mere superior. They were the grave eyes of a senior warrior who had glimpsed promise, and meant to point a junior down the right road.

“Plenty of organizations want you. But I would be hard pressed to call any of them your best option.”

Like a player studying the stones on a board, he weighed Yun Cheon's value as he went on.

“The Inspection Bureau? They want you — but only once a blade rests against your neck. Those people trust no one, as a matter of principle. An organization that seizes your weakness and works you to the bone. That is the Inspection Bureau.”

Yun Cheon listened in silence.

“And the fighting units — the Black Shadow Unit, the Blood Wolf Unit? You might think differently of them, but they only want a blade they can swing the moment it lands in their hands.”

That, too, was simply reality. So long as the Severed Meridian syndrome remained, serving in a regular combat unit would be no easy road — no enemy on a true battlefield would obligingly cap his inner force the way a sparring bout did.

“…Then what of the Ten Thousand Demon Hall?”

“So you've considered the Ten Thousand Demon Hall. You have already been taking counsel with the other cadets, it seems.” Gal Mu-heun appeared to know even of Yayul Hui's visit.

“That place is lined with old freaks who have gone half mad — and if their minds happen to be sound, they are for the most part demon elders still swollen with greed. Choose the boat you board with great care.”

Yun Cheon nodded. The greed of old men… I learned the taste of that bitterly, even in the Murim Alliance. Anyone who had survived to old age in the demonic path would brook no rival in sheer martial skill — but as the Pavilion Lord said, finding a sane one among them would be harder still.

“Most demoniacs took their ultimate arts by word of mouth or in the crucible of real combat — the systematic transmission of martial arts is beyond them. Even should one take a liking to you, wringing a technique or two out of him, matching his moods as you went, would be no small feat.”

Brush still in hand, Gal Mu-heun continued in a low voice steeped in the scent of ink — as though he were gazing straight through the abacus in Yun Cheon's head. This was his real business.

“Unripe fruit is a thing everyone covets. Until the day you flower, this Pavilion Lord will stand as your solid fence.”

“…!”

“So rather than attaching yourself to any organization — what would you say to remaining in my direct service for the time being?”

An unexpected, unheard-of proposal. Yun Cheon's ears pricked. With his Severed Meridians still untreated, being tangled in the overeager attention and turf wars of half a dozen organizations would be poison. And Gal Mu-heun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drove the wedge home into exactly that soft spot.

“Besides… judging by how urgently you seek the Demonic Physician, you are in need of healing. And feeling not a whisper of inner force from you — the trouble may lie in your dantian, or in your meridians.”

Insight that laid bare Yun Cheon's condition without so much as a pulse taken. Truly the eye of a supreme master — the man they called the One Brush Soul Snatcher.

“…….”

“I will not pry. That would be discourteous to a martial artist. But this is a matter that profits us both. What say you?”

The chance to grow in safety under the Pavilion Lord's wing. And yet Yun Cheon did not miss the aged cunning concealed beneath it. He intends not to hand me off to the other organizations too early, but to raise me under his own banner. A scheme to monopolize the finest uncut gem and grow his influence with it.

And yet — that was precisely what put him at ease. But… he's right. Our interests align. Calculated profit is a far more trustworthy thing than pure goodwill.

Besides, so long as he held the Black Steel Tablet, Yun Cheon could step out from under Gal Mu-heun's wing the moment he wished. The reason Yu Ha ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had gone out of his way to spend his own tablet first and clear the road to the Demonic Physician was now obvious. That sly fox… did he make me hold my tablet back for this very moment? Just how far ahead does that man see?

Above all, as the Pavilion Lord's direct subordinate, he would gain proper standing to move freely about the Mad Path Pavilion's grounds. Which meant, perhaps, a chance to probe the old grounds of Kunlun — the hidden caverns in particular.

His calculations complete, Yun Cheon offered a respectful cupped-fist salute.

“How could I ever refuse the Pavilion Lord's offer? I will follow your instructions.”

Satisfied creases gathered at the corners of Gal Mu-heun's eyes.

“Good. A wise judgment. From this moment, you are my direct subordinate. You were rated the very top, so you can read, I trust… Do you like books as well?”

It was an abrupt question — yet somehow it landed with a strange weight.

“…If they are martial manuals, I am fond of them.”

“Heh heh… perfect, then. The duty I am entrusting to you is this: to bring systematic order to the Inner Library's vast collection, and reassess the worth of every volume within it.”

Yun Cheon's brow creased faintly. Was the great demonic cult so barren of anyone to sort its martial manuals that it would hand the work to a newly fledged warrior?

“This is no mere tidying. The manuals looted from the countless sects of the Central Plains… the greater part of them are written in cipher — one cannot read them at all as they stand.”

“Cipher, you say?”

“Just so. Those pedigree sects, whenever they commit their arts to paper, knead their own philosophies into the text.”

Gal Mu-heun lifted his brush and set a single character — Dao — flowing onto the paper as he went on.

“The doctrines of the Three Teachings — Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist — to say nothing of the Hundred Schools of Thought: without grounding in them, a secret manual is nothing more than black scrawl on white paper. Take a single line like 'empty your mind' — the Daoist reading and the Buddhist reading are heaven and earth apart. How would ignorant demoniacs ever know that?”

“Ah…”

Only then did Yun Cheon understand why peerless arts like the Heaven and Earth Moving Art and the Limitless Step had been shoved into corners of the basic training archive, gathering dust like so much refuse. Merely knowing the words could never draw out the profound principles sealed within them.

“I was born a scholar, so I know something of that flavor — but books pour in from every corner of the Central Plains, and alone I cannot keep pace. With your keenness of mind… I believe you can sift the jade from the stone hidden in those pages.”

“…….”

“Of course, that is the duty in name only. Your training and your treatment come first. I will grant you a private stone chamber within the library as well — and every book in that place, read as you please.”

In effect, Gal Mu-heun had handed Yun Cheon the Mad Path Pavilion's Inner Library whole — that treasure-house of knowledge. A warrior could ask for no greater favor.

“…I am grateful for the consideration.”

“Think nothing of it. Strive on both fronts — treatment and training — and live up to my expectations. Ah, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and one thing more…”

Gal Mu-heun stopped Yun Cheon as he turned to leave, a peculiar interest kindling in his eyes.

“Do not rest too easily. You are not the only one I have selected for the Inner Library.”

“…Other warriors, my lord?”

“Just so. Eccentrics, every one — every bit as relentless as you in burrowing into books. Which is why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we call them the Book Ghosts.”

Book Ghosts. Spirits that haunted the shelves.

“Competing with them will be a different beast from the Hidden Demon Cave. Debating prose and martial theory has pleasures of its own, you will find.”

Yun Cheon nodded quietly. The haven of rest he had imagined was, it seemed, another battlefield after all — one where unseen blades crossed.

“I will bear it in mind.”

“Good. And now that you are a full warrior of the Cult, go to the quartermaster and draw your uniform and weapons.”

Yun Cheon withdrew, and a deep stillness settled back over the office. Gal Mu-heun took up his brush and charged it richly with ink, and across the white paper black strokes swept down in one unbroken flourish.

That boy is the genuine article.

He had seen any number of uncut gems since taking up this post, but Yun Cheon was of a different order altogether — a fundamental depth, beyond mere talent for the blade.

“…However I look at him, he is no ordinary boy of that age. If anyone can coax new meaning out of those texts, it may well be him.”

Through Gal Mu-heun's mind drifted the ancient volumes abandoned in the Inner Library's deepest reaches, left to rot because no one could interpret them — profound martial doctrines that had never seen the light, in a demonic path that scorned scripture and scholarship and worshipped strength alone.

“A boy like Yun Cheon will be a fine goad to the existing Book Ghosts, too.”

Gal Mu-heun's eyes gleamed deep and sharp, like a master player setting stones upon a vast board.

“Whether it becomes for them a wondrous bond or a bitter feud… watching that unfold will be its own entertainment.”

The audience concluded, Yun Cheon walked out of Gal Mu-heun's office and made straight for the quartermaster.

“…Cadet Yun Cheon. No — a proper warrior of our Cult now, aren't you. The Pavilion Lord told me all about it. Any weapon in particular you'd like?”

“A saber and a sword of standard make, one of each, will be plenty.”

“Ho… a sword and a saber, one of each? Understood.”

The quartermaster promptly returned from the armory bearing a well-balanced saber and a longsword.

“For clothes, these will do. This should be about your size.”

Yun Cheon accepted the issued gear and dressed. The black martial uniform bore no ornament of any kind, but compared to the skeletal wretch who had first stumbled through the Pavilion's gates, it was nothing short of being reborn.

“I measured by eye, and it fits like it was cut for you. You've the look of a proper warrior about you now.”

Yun Cheon ran his gaze down the Cult's uniform clinging to his frame. …Who would have thought the day would come when I wore the garb of the demonic path, and not the Kunlun uniform I had worn all my life.

Clack— Yun Cheon buckled the saber sheath and sword scabbard at his hip.

“Give the blades a draw and a look over yourself.”

Yun Cheon quietly drew the saber.

Shing—

“A weapon with an edge this keen must be handled with care. It's naturally awkward at first—”

The motion flowed as though he had wielded weapons all his life.

“One slip and you could lose a finger…! Wha—? That was… natural…?”

It was a draw so unerringly practiced that the quartermaster, who had been readying advice on this precaution and that, could only gape. Yun Cheon had done nothing but draw a saber, yet the air that rose from the blade belonged to a seasoned warrior.

“…Now I see why the Chief Instructor ordered me to look after you directly. I'd never believe you were a cadet who only just came up out of the Hidden Demon Cave. I have nothing left to add…”

Looking rather sheepish, the quartermaster scratched his head.

“If you need anything from now on, come find me whenever you like. Basic supplies I can provide in any quantity.”

“Could you also have items made to order? The iron rings I used to wear are ruined…”

“Ah — those crude rings you wore in the bout? Understood. What weight would suit you?”

“To begin, some twenty-five pounds per limb should serve.”

A weight raised a shade above the rings he had worn before. He carried steel weapons now instead of wooden ones; this much was only fitting.

“On all four limbs that comes to nearly a hundred pounds… you'd outweigh most grown children on rings alone. Are you quite certain?”

“Precisely right.”

“Understood. I'll have them ready shortly. These will be nothing like the crude things you've been wearing — I'll have them made properly.”

“Thank you.”

Weapon and new rings received, Yun Cheon did not head straight for the Inner Library. He made instead for the stone chamber in the Hidden Demon Cave that had been his home for nearly a year — there were belongings he had yet to pack.

On the descent to the Hidden Demon Cave—

…That presence? His senses snagged on an unsettling gaze fixed between his shoulder blades. The shadow that has been dogging me these past few days?

The shadow had closed in nearer than before, and grown far less discreet with it. Yun Cheon deliberately turned down a corridor where foot traffic thinned, and the instant he rounded its corner he flung himself aside, smothered his presence, and vanished into hiding.

Moments later, a single black shadow appeared, warily rounding the corner. The figure wore a mask, but nothing about the limber movements or the banked-down aura beneath was ordinary.

Who is it? The Inspection Bureau? The Black Shadow Unit? Or the Ten Thousand Demon Hall?

The instant Yun Cheon held his breath and studied the figure, the shadow's eyes locked onto the exact spot where he was hidden.