An Unexpected Encounter - 2
A Joseon native, huh?
It had been a long time since anyone looked at my black hair and asked if I was from Joseon.
Usually it started with “Hey! Barbarian!” and went straight into “What kind of barbarian spawn are you? Joseon? Where the hell is that country supposed to be? You know Goryeo? Do I look like I need to memorize the locations of barbarian countries? What an insolent little bastard.” And so on.
Then there were the ones whose national history was a thousand years out of date: “Goryeo? This idiot… You barbarian spawn don’t even know your own country’s name? It’s not Goryeo, it’s Goguryeo, you moron.” I’d met every variety imaginable.
Yet here was a chivalrous martial artist who was polite, well-mannered, and surprisingly well-informed about world affairs. Every little attitude this Taoist showed was strangely endearing.
“My name is Kang Yunho. I am from Joseon, and I currently run a bookstore in Yichang.”
I was Joseon-born, but I paid taxes in the Central Plains like any other citizen.
I tacked that on just in case. There were people like Uigakju—warm toward those of his own bloodline, yet merciless to barbarians—who might suddenly switch tones and start shouting, “I’ll kill every last Chosunjin!”
“I see. Then, by any chance, are you familiar with Pung…?”
“There’s no time! We need to get out of here now!”
One of the Medical Pavilion members shouted toward me before Cheon-un could finish the sentence.
“It seems this is no moment for personal questions.”
Cheon-un swallowed the rest of the words with clear regret.
Pung? What would a Wudang Taoist begin with “Pung” when speaking to a Joseon native? The classic nationalistic wuxia staple, Pungbaek Unsa? I was briefly curious myself, but I deliberately didn’t ask.
The enemy’s assault had clearly broken, yet this was no time to lower our guard. Righting the toppled cart, securing the surviving horses, and getting out of these mountains were the urgent priorities.
“Yes. I should go help them.”
Fortunately, the shock of the fall had simply left them unable to rise; their injuries weren’t severe. I needed to hurry.
“For Demonic Cultists to appear right in the front yard of the Wudang Sect… Do you know why they attacked?”
Cheon-un asked as I started toward the others.
“That is…”
“Cheon-un, Young Hero! We are grateful for your aid, yet as I already said, this is Dang Clan business. We cannot speak further of it.”
Seeing me hesitate with a troubled expression, one of the Medical Pavilion members stepped in front of Cheon-un so that nothing more about Hwarin would slip out.
The most convenient excuse of all—family business. So they had simply said that and refused to explain the reason for the attack?
“….”
Cheon-un looked back and forth between the Medical Pavilion member and me. The expression was clearly suspicious and dissatisfied. Well, claiming it was Sichuan Dang Clan business was bound to raise doubts. Inside, the thought “Sichuan Dang Clan again?” was probably forming.
On top of that, he had risked his life out of pure goodwill; if they wouldn’t even state the reason, of course he would feel slighted.
I understood the Dang people’s position as well. If word got out that they had conducted Dokin experiments, it could explode into a catastrophe that engulfed the entire Murim.
I need Cheon-un’s help.
At a time like this they should at least have spoken more carefully—to someone who had risked his life out of goodwill. Could they really just brush it off as “family business”? I sighed quietly to myself.
If a righteous hero got offended and left, only we would suffer the loss. To deliver Hwarin safely to the Dang Clan, the aid of a Wudang Taoist was indispensable. Yet I could not casually mention the Dokin.
What to do…
There’s a good way.
I lightly pushed the Medical Pavilion member aside and stepped in front of Cheon-un.
“What the Demonic Cultists are after is my friend. She lies unconscious in that freight cart after falling victim to their experiments.”
“Young Master!”
The Medical Pavilion member cried out in shock.
“How could I speak falsehoods to a benefactor who has saved my life? Benefactor, they say that if I take my friend to the Dang Clan, she can still be saved. I know this is an imposition, yet could you accompany us only until we escape this crisis?”
In moments like this you spoke something that was neither pure truth nor pure lie.
The bulk of this mess had been caused by the human trash within the Dang Clan who had wanted to perform those Dokin experiments. If I revealed every fact, people might simply decide it was the Sichuan Dang Clan’s just deserts and hesitate to help.
Better to supply only the necessary facts than to dump the entire story and force them to calculate fault ratios like some legendary black-box car-crash video.
Dang Geoho had borrowed the Demonic Cult’s strength, therefore Dang Geoho counted as a Demonic Cultist. We were transporting a child who had suffered from Demonic Cult experiments back to the Dang Clan.
Strip away the extras and leave only the vital facts—wasn’t that enough?
“…If that is the case, I will accompany you.”
Cheon-un seemed to sense that something remained suspicious and did not entirely drop the wary gaze, yet the situation was too grave to ignore; he nodded.
We righted the cart once more and raced diligently along the mountain path.
“Will it truly be all right not to go help Uigakju?”
I asked one of the Medical Pavilion members from inside the moving cart. Fortunately, no pursuing forces were in sight. I had no intention of turning back myself, yet the others might feel differently, so I asked out of courtesy.
“He made himself a decoy for our sake. Returning into that death trap for Uigakju would go against his own will.”
“I only hope he survives.”
There was still plenty of residual ill will between us, yet in the end he had shown goodwill and volunteered to sacrifice himself. I wanted him to live so we could meet again—especially if he would then vouch for me as the clan’s illegitimate son.
“We can only trust him. He will have found a way out.”
The Medical Pavilion member spoke while avoiding my eyes, clearly tormented by a certainty he could not truly claim.
After running without rest for more than a day, we finally descended the mountain and reached a small village.
“We cannot know where the enemy might appear. We must not let our guard down until the very end.”
One of the Medical Pavilion members said after securing rooms at the inn.
He was right. Lower your guard because you feel safe, and you could end up collapsing after eating poisoned food. Then some waiter would smile that rotten smile and murmur, “Actually, I was a Dang Clan traitor all along.”
Or a whole pack of identical-looking men would charge in shouting, “We are the Demonic Cult’s Sumisu operatives!”
“We will guard Miss Hwarin. Young Master Kang, please take a room with Cheon-un, Young Hero.”
“I leave her in your care.”
I was worried about the unconscious Hwarin, yet there was nothing I myself could do. I could only trust the medical professionals who specialized in destroying the very roots of disease.
Cheon-un and I entered the assigned room and began unpacking.
“Hot water is ready. Go wash up right away.”
I said to Cheon-un while roughly wiping my hair, wearing only a pair of pants.
“Ah! I… I will wash before sleeping.”
Cheon-un started to glance at me, then hurriedly turned his head away.
Uncomfortable with the bare upper body, perhaps? After all the internal-energy massages, spiritual-medicine showers, and constant training, I had a body I needn’t be ashamed of anywhere. Still, we weren’t close; it was understandable.
“If you wait until bedtime, the water may no longer be hot. You should wash now.”
Hot water in a village inn like this was practically a miracle. I pulled on some sleep clothes haphazardly as I spoke.
“I am fine.”
Nothing I could do. I wasn’t his mother; no need to micromanage bath time.
After offering and being refused, the atmosphere grew a little awkward.
“To walk the path of a chivalrous hero… that is truly a remarkable thing. I have spent some time in the Central Plains, yet I have never met anyone like you, Young Hero. Once again, I offer my gratitude.”
I said it both to clear the air and because Cheon-un was still looking the other way.
No matter how I looked at him, he was a strange person.
Even the likes of Yun the Great Hero of the Neungnam Gate—wait, was it Neungnam Gate?—those who eventually earned the title of Great Hero only got it after growing older; deep down they were still petty men.
How had this one appeared at the exact moment of crisis? And he had fought so magnificently that I had simply stared, dumbstruck. If I had been a woman I would have fallen for him on the spot.
“It is nothing remarkable. I merely refuse to ignore the small things I am capable of doing. Did you yourself not risk your life to rise for the sake of your friend, Young Master Kang?”
Cheon-un answered while looking at me, as though it were the most ordinary matter in the world. Humility on top of everything else. And the sheer decency to call me “Young Master Kang” instead of “barbarian.”
Did the Wudang Sect of this world practice Solar Fist instead of Taiji Fist? The halo shining from behind him was nearly blinding.
“You said earlier that you had something to ask. Now that we have a moment to breathe, if there is anything you wish to know, I will answer.”
“I am sorry. Upon reflection, it seems it would be difficult to speak of because it is a matter of my sect.”
Cheon-un averted his eyes, as though reluctant. Had the Dang Clan people offended him after all?
“Haha. It seems the attitude of the Dang people has rather wounded your feelings. Allow me to apologize in their stead.”
“Ah, no, that is not…”
Bull’s-eye. Cheon-un stammered slightly, clearly struck on the mark.
“The Dang people are notoriously closed-off, are they not? Given the circumstances, it could not be helped. They have promised to repay the debt thoroughly, so please do not take it too much to heart.”
“Hearing you say so brings a little comfort. Then… may I ask once more?”
“Of course.”
“If you are from Joseon, have you ever been to Changbai Mountain?”
“Changbai Mountain—you mean Baekdu Mountain. I have never been there myself.”
I had climbed Hallasan, Seoraksan, and Jirisan, but Baekdu Mountain was not in the Republic of Korea, so I had never set foot on it.
“Is that so…”
Disappointment flickered across Cheon-un’s face.
“Might I know the reason you ask? If it is something where even a small help might be of use, I would like to offer it.”
“If you are from Joseon, do you know of the Taoist of Changbai Mountain?”
“The Taoist of Changbai Mountain?”
“Yes. In truth, I was on a journey to seek out the Taoist of Changbai Mountain.”
What was this about? A Wudang Taoist traveling all the way to distant Baekdu Mountain to find another Taoist? I had read countless wuxia novels, and normally it was the Taoists from Changbai who came down into the Murim; people did not go looking for them.
“I know there is a sect that manages the Changbai pure silver.”
Changbai pure silver—more precious than gold itself. Wherever there was profit, dangerous men gathered, and in chaotic times someone always stepped forward to keep those men in line.
I myself had once used Changbai pure silver as a final trump card for survival, so I had heard the related stories.
“Do you know which sect?”
“The Changbai Sect. I have heard there is a mysterious Daoist sect of that name.”
“The Changbai Sect… just as I thought…”
Just as he thought what? Cheon-un muttered, the expression of someone whose suspicions had hardened into certainty.
Tell me too. What is going on? Why is a Wudang Taoist heading to Changbai Mountain? If this conversation ends here I will never sleep.
“He who would discuss the greatest under heaven, come to Baekdu Mountain. Anyone who knows even a little of the Joseon Murim has heard that saying somewhere.”
I added the line so Cheon-un’s interest would not die.
“That is truly an arrogant claim.”
Cheon-un’s eyes widened as he spoke.
“Haha. Changbai Mountain is simply that dangerous a place. Tigers and bears roam freely, and there are men with swords on top of that. Anyone who manages such a place would have to be formidable indeed.”
If he ever learned how many “greatest under heaven” the Joseon wuxia tradition had produced, he would be shocked.
The Hwarang and Haedong swordsmanship. Archers who never missed, Joseon martial artists who appeared in the Central Plains with a ring-pommel greatsword in hand and a Haedong blue hawk perched on the shoulder.
That was the romance of Joseon wuxia, damn it.
Never look down on Joseon again! Central Plains!
I looked at Cheon-un with a proudly triumphant expression; luckily he still seemed to have more questions, for he continued to meet my gaze.
Come on, spit it out already. Why on earth are you seeking the Taoist of Baekdu Mountain? What is this Wudang business?
I put on a small, polite smile and waited quietly so Cheon-un would feel comfortable speaking. At last he opened his mouth.
“There is one more thing I would like to ask, if you would answer.”
“What could I possibly refuse to answer for my benefactor?”
Of course.
I waited for Cheon-un’s question, yet unfortunately it was not the one I had been hoping for.
“I have heard that you write. Might I ask what sort of books you have written?”