The Trace of the Brush, the Will of the Sword
Who was the author of the Tale of the Wind and Cloud Chivalric Hero?
Mo.
On the original manuscript of the Tale of the Wind and Cloud Chivalric Hero that Cheongun had unearthed, the pen name inscribed in the corner had been worn away by age and moisture, leaving only the single character Mo—meaning "a certain someone"—discernible.
Consequently, the martial artists of the Wudang Sect merely indulged in vague speculation regarding the writer, never bothering to dig deeper into the author's true identity.
There was definitely another character before Mo.
Except for the one man who had first discovered the manuscript.
As the initial discoverer and first devoted reader of the Tale of the Wind and Cloud Chivalric Hero, Cheongun had held sole possession of the original text until the day he departed Mt. Wudang. Damaged though it was, he had burned the faint remnants of that ink-stained corner into his memory hundreds of times over.
Naturally, staring at it for days on end had not magically reconstructed the ruined strokes, yet Cheongun had gleaned a crucial clue from an entirely unexpected source.
An unswerving sword.
A Joseon friend who harbored a romantic yearning for chivalrous wanderers—the very first friend Cheongun had made after descending Mt. Wudang. An epiphany imparted by that companion had offered Cheongun an invaluable hint.
Even characters harbor intent. All the more so if it is a pen name.
What if the author of the Tale of the Wind and Cloud Chivalric Hero had not sought to conceal himself, but rather wished to be known?
Just as there were deliberate sword forms imbued with martial will, there must be brushstrokes imbued with an author's spirit. Cheongun resolved to retrace the surviving remnants as though restoring a lost martial arts manual. Every night, he closed his eyes and raised his sword, seeking the intent behind the brushstrokes hundreds, thousands of times.
Anyone watching would have dismissed it as a fool's errand. Yet Cheongun had embarked on this journey precisely to find the author of the Tale of the Wind and Cloud Chivalric Hero. Even when everyone urged him to turn back, he had scrambled up sheer cliffs with battered, bleeding hands just to prove the truth of the novel and uncover its hidden caverns.
From Mt. Wudang in Hubei Province all the way to Liaodong, at the end of his strange pilgrimage in search of that lost stroke, Cheongun had finally grasped the identity of the character preceding Mo.
"Did you say... Kang Mo?"
"I cannot say with absolute certainty, but I believe it is indeed Kang Mo."
At first, he had mistaken the upper radical for the character Mi, meaning beautiful. But while wandering the realm performing chivalric deeds, he had assisted Joseon travelers and learned that if it were a Joseon surname, it was far more likely to be Kang than Mi. When he connected the faded strokes anew based on their advice, it unmistakably formed the character Kang.
"Kang Mo..."
Moyong Sang-ah's brow twitched imperceptibly.
Cheongun was so immensely proud of his deduction that he failed to notice the room's atmosphere plummeting into dead silence.
"M-My Lord. Young Hero Cheongun, do you truly know nothing of the rumors circulating through Liaodong?"
To mention the Kang family in front of Moyong Sang-ah was practically taboo. Flustered, the vice-commander subtly probed whether Cheongun had dared ask such a thing without even knowing his Lord's infamous reputation.
"Indeed, I know nothing. That is why I am searching for information. I was told he was a Daoist from Changbai Mountain. While he could be a martial artist carrying on a lineage, in my view, judging by the literary prowess displayed, it is far more likely he is a scholar-Daoist who inherited a doctrinal lineage."
How could a martial artist who spent his entire life handling blades possess such exquisite literary talent? Even as a Daoist, he had to be someone far more accustomed to the brush than the sword. Cheongun nodded earnestly, his eyes sparkling with naive enthusiasm.
"Literary prowess?"
"Ah... I received a letter mentioning rumors that Wudang's doctrinal lineage had continued to Changbai Mountain, which is why I was traveling." Realizing he had inadvertently touched upon Wudang's private affairs, Cheongun hurriedly tried to gloss over it.
"I see. You share such a bond, then."
Branches splintering off to establish new sects were commonplace in Murim. Moyong Sang-ah and the vice-commander nodded at Cheongun's words.
"It is still an unverified rumor, so I apologize for failing to speak with greater clarity."
"Why would our benefactor apologize? Only the foolish babble excitedly about uncertain matters. Still, the literary talent shown in that correspondence must have been extraordinary."
Moyong Sang-ah barely managed to quell the tempest in her heart, offering a light, polite remark to the seemingly naive yet passionate Daoist.
"It is not writing that can be encapsulated by mere words."
Yet at Sang-ah's words, Cheongun furrowed his brow slightly, looking as though his most cherished treasure had been subtly slighted.
"Pardon?"
"It felt as though my eyes had been opened in a pitch-black world! Like a delicacy whose rich flavor deepens the more one chews, it was prose that unveiled fresh flavors with every reading. To spend my days traveling while savoring the meaning behind each and every word..."
A feverish, glistening fanaticism flared within Cheongun's eyes.
"Young Hero Cheongun?"
"Ah?! M-My apologies. I have made an unsightly spectacle of myself." Cheongun snapped back to his senses in alarm and bowed his head frantically.
"Though I know little of Daoist matters, I can clearly see how devout a priest you are, Young Hero Cheongun."
"Hahaha..."
"I know nothing of a Daoist named Kang Mo from Changbai Mountain. However, while you remain our guest, I shall have inquiries made on your behalf. Would that be acceptable?"
"I would be deeply indebted."
Charging blindly into Changbai Mountain would only result in getting lost. Cheongun readily accepted the offer.
"Although the assassin fled, you may be targeted again. I shall assign guards to your quarters."
"Ah... T-That will not be necessary! I cannot fall asleep unless I am entirely alone." Cheongun glanced about in awkward hesitation at Moyong Sang-ah's courtesy, his face flushing slightly as he replied.
"Then I shall post guards only at your door."
Was that why he preferred sleeping in the guest pavilion? Moyong Sang-ah nodded at his answer, though she did not withhold her hospitality toward their savior.
"Thank you."
"He is quite an eccentric Daoist."
Once Moyong Jinsu, vice-commander of the Changbong Corps, confirmed Cheongun had returned to the guest pavilion, he finally broke the silence.
"Look into whether there is a Daoist surnamed Kang on Changbai Mountain," Moyong Sang-ah commanded in a flat, detached voice.
To an outsider, she appeared nonchalant, but to one who knew her, she looked as though she was curling inward as tightly as possible to shield herself from pain.
"My Lord... Investigating a Daoist with the surname Kang..."
The only clan exterminated in the treason purge was the Kang family of court interpreters; any other Kangs would reside across the river in Joseon. Yet dredging up the name Kang could only reopen raw wounds for everyone involved. The vice-commander attempted to dissuade her as delicately as possible.
"He could be a distant relative, or it might merely be a Daoist moniker. Since it concerns our benefactor, at least ask around."
"Understood."
To argue any further would be walking deliberately through the Gate of Death. The vice-commander obediently lowered his head.
"What of the assassins?"
"Two took their own lives the moment they were captured. The third grew visibly rattled watching his comrades kill themselves."
"Rattled?"
It was common practice for captured assassins to commit suicide to preserve secrets. While some lacked the resolve to end their own lives, to be rattled? It was unusual enough that even Moyong Sang-ah echoed the word in surprise.
"Upon capturing him and verifying his identity, a troublesome issue arose."
"What is it?"
"The captured assassin hails from the Jurchen... specifically the Turshan tribe."
"You failed to kill her?! Chief Steward! Didn't you swear you had this handled?!"
Inside the personal office of the Young Clan Head of the Moyong Clan, Moyong Bi, who currently held sway over half of the family's power, glared furiously at the Chief Steward.
"We encountered an unexpected ambush..."
"Ha! Do you think that venomous bitch expected to be ambushed by assassins?!"
"..."
He had specially dispatched assassins trained in demonic martial arts. The Chief Steward, a Demonic Cult infiltrator, had felt certain of victory this time; in the face of this unexpected failure, words failed him.
"Forget it. If she were the kind to die so easily, she never would have plunged a blade into her own husband's heart to survive in the first place. What happened with the Hall of Accomplished Martial Archives?"
That wretched wench. Just how many lives did she have? With obvious disgust written across his face, Moyong Bi moved to the next agenda.
"I had Jurchen warriors mixed into the assassin squad. Even though the mission failed, Changbong Hall will now perpetually suspect an alliance between the Jurchen and ourselves."
The Chief Steward had prepared for failure even while anticipating success. By placing Jurchen within the assassin ranks, he had sown misdirection. Sang-ah might suspect the culprits were barbarians trained in demonic arts—a scheme designed to sow chaos in her mind.
"As you well know, if we want to drain that crazy bitch's coffers, the search for the Hall of Accomplished Martial Archives must not cease."
"We must force her into an endless war of attrition against the Jurchen."
"Precisely. I trust you will put your back into it, Chief Steward."
Moyong Bi nodded in satisfaction. The Changbong Corps she had created was an annoyance, not a true threat. But his sister's financial power was an enormous problem. She was a woman capable of conjuring a swarm of troublesome pests out of thin air in a heartbeat. Leave her be, and there was no telling when those pests might evolve into monsters. Moyong Bi needed her to burn through her wealth searching for the Hall of Accomplished Martial Archives.
"Why not arrange a meeting between yourself and the barbarians, Young Clan Head?"
"You want me to negotiate with those barbarian dogs?" Just when things were going well, he had to make such an absurd suggestion. Moyong Bi glared at the Chief Steward.
"A modest expenditure should suffice."
"Money? That damned wench swallowed up every profitable trade route there is! Just whose pockets do you think are funding the Moyong Clan right now?"
"It is the simplest path."
"Sure, it's simple. And what happens when that bitch abandons the current dig and starts excavating elsewhere? Do we pay off that tribe too? Where will the coin come from? Is your cult going to front the funds?"
Only a generation ago, the Moyong Clan's prestige had teetered on the brink of collapse. Had Lord Moyong Cheon not revitalized the clan, Moyong Bi and Moyong Sang-ah would be living in a crumbling ruin of an estate. Now Moyong Cheon lay comatose, and the Kang clan had been wiped out for treason. Though Moyong Bi controlled the lion's share of the clan's traditional holdings, it could not compare to his sister's immense fortune derived from monopolizing the Joseon ginseng trade routes.
"Hehehe. Then perhaps, to ensure she struggles further, we could instruct them in the cult's martial arts..."
"Chief Steward." Moyong Bi's voice dropped to a menacing growl, his teeth bared.
"Speak, Young Clan Head."
"Do you know why everyone in Liaodong—from imperial officials to barbarian tribes—bows their heads to the Moyong Clan?"
"Why is that?"
"Because we possess the power. Do you think untamed beasts will be grateful if you give them iron claws? And you want to teach demonic arts to barbarian filth? Do I really have to spell this out for you? Have you lost your mind?"
"...My foresight was lacking."
Corrupted though he was by the cult's temptations, Moyong Bi was still the Young Clan Head of a lineage that had reigned over Liaodong for a millennium. The Chief Steward offered a swift apology for his slip of the tongue.
"Chief Steward. If I've brought virtually the entire Moyong Clan into the cult's grasp, shouldn't the cult show me what it can do in return?" Moyong Bi let out an irritated sigh.
"Young Master. I cannot idly listen to disparagement of our sacred cult."
A chilling surge of murderous intent radiated from the Chief Steward, sharp enough to make even Moyong Bi tense.
"My apologies. I merely felt a touch disappointed. You may take your leave."
The Chief Steward bowed and stepped out of the Young Clan Head's office.
Moyong Bi. You worthless bastard.
The moment pressure was applied, he slipped away like a loach. Fury burned in the Chief Steward's chest as he stared back at the office door.
Obsessed with nothing but his own self-preservation!
The man called the Young Clan Head only moved when there was zero risk of personal loss. It wasn't that he lacked wits. Quite the opposite—he was shrewd in all the wrong ways. If something posed the slightest disadvantage, he froze immediately. Yet his greed was boundless. The exact temperament of a corrupt official skimming illicit wealth.
A leader of men must make bold, swift decisions when the moment calls for it.
Either spend the gold or arm the barbarians with martial arts. To reject both and cling solely to the safest move... The Chief Steward let out a heavy sigh of frustration.
"Could the Demonic Cult and the Jurchen truly have joined hands?"
The moment she learned the captured assassin's identity, Moyong Sang-ah questioned her vice-commander.
"We cannot be certain of that just yet."
"...We have far too many enemies."
Half of the Moyong Clan, and the Demonic Cult. They were already besieged, and now, in the worst-case scenario, the Jurchen might join the fray. Oppressed by the mounting weight, Sang-ah muttered under her breath.
"Young Miss... No, My Lord..."
Vice-Commander Moyong Jinsu addressed his master with heartfelt sympathy, but he had no brilliant solutions to offer.
I cannot halt the search for the Hall of Accomplished Martial Archives.
Ignoring the vice-commander's gaze, Sang-ah sank deep into thought. To claim the seat of Clan Head, the excavation could not stop. Did the Jurchen truly ally with the Demonic Cult? Even her brother couldn't be ignorant of the danger the Jurchen posed. Had he overplayed his hand? There was no way to know. What should she do?
I have no strategist.
Amidst the rapidly shifting board, she acutely felt the void in counsel. While the veteran Commander of the Changbong Corps occasionally advised her, he was not present here. Her vice-commanders had loyalty and drive in abundance, but their role was purely martial.
Naturally so. The Changbong Corps was originally formed as a bodyguard unit. In the Clan Head's eyes, a single experienced advisor to watch over his daughter and prevent her from straying, paired with loyal muscle, had been all she needed.
If only... If only...
She could not simply recruit an outside strategist. How could she reveal to a stranger that the Moyong Clan was tangled with the Demonic Cult? A seat she desperately needed filled, yet one where she could place no living soul.
A single figure surfaced in her mind.
If only my lord husband were here...
The husband who had understood every part of her. The chivalrous hero who had walked into the Demonic Cult's lair armed with brilliant strategies she herself could never have devised. If only he were alive. If only she could bury her face in his chest every night, whining about the burdens of reclaiming her clan, and have him hold her warm and close, whispering clever stratagems she could never have dreamed of...
What a foolish thought.
A woman guilty of an unforgivable sin had no right to such fantasies. An icy blade seemed to twist in her heart. Was it hearing the name Kang Mo from Cheongun? Try as she might to hide it, that unexpected spark had stirred violent ripples in her chest.
Sang-ah forced her racing emotions into composure and spoke to the vice-commander.
"From this moment on, move strictly according to my instructions."
Decisions must be made with prudence and swiftness.
For the wicked woman lived solely to protect what her lord husband had left behind.