The White Tiger Weeps
On the training grounds before the main hall of the Namgung Clan, a vast aura rolled out in every direction, stirred by a soft wind.
Clan Leader Namgung Shin raised his sword into a high guard and spoke to Hyeonsong.
"I shall begin!"
Hyeonsong tilted his blade to the side and gave a single nod.
The blue sword qi that had been spreading outward gathered into Namgung Shin, condensing into a tremendous killing edge.
Kuuuuung—
The sky itself seemed to split as a colossal blade of sword energy crashed down upon Hyeonsong.
The foremost sword art of the Namgung Clan — its opening form, unleashed in full.
Watching the sword energy hurtle toward him, Hyeonsong traced a flowing circle with his blade.
A vast circular ring took shape behind his back.
Saaaaaaah—
A fair wind rose, and the black-and-white ring began to spin with fierce intensity.
Kaaaaang—
The flat of his sword caught and cradled the flank of the azure-charged blade energy, bearing the full force of the heavens themselves.
Kuuuuung—
Yet the power of the Emperor Sword Form drove both of Hyeonsong's feet deep into the earth. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
With his eyes closed, he let the strength drain from his body.
In his ears, the secret formula of the Taegeukhyekeom began to sound.
"In the beginning of the primordial, there is Yin; at its end, there is Yang…"
Kagagagagagang—
The trajectory of that blue sword energy, which had seemed ready to cut through all things, began to unravel.
"With softness, one may overcome hardness."
Hyeonsong's body turned smoothly, sword and all.
"And with hardness, one may also shatter softness!"
Paaaaang—
The sword energy of the Emperor Sword Form, which had aimed straight for Hyeonsong's center, lost its path and exploded skyward.
"Hah— hah— hah— hah—"
Hyeonsong gasped for breath and sank to one knee where he stood.
Namgung Shin cried out, his face a mask of disbelief.
"The Emperor Sword Form…!"
Those who had watched the bout between two masters standing at the very peak of the Super Expert realm burst into cheers—Yeong-hwa and Hagun, and Namgung Shin's two sons.
Yeong-hwa gave a low whistle and spoke.
"Sect Leader! This time the ring of the Taegeuk did not break."
At those words Hyeonsong smiled faintly and wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.
"Still not enough. I have yet to reach the Mugeok that Senior Brother Baekhak once showed."
Chaak—
He sheathed the Songmun Ancient Sword. The spinning ring vanished like the wind.
Smiling, Hyeonsong walked toward Namgung Shin, who was soaked in sweat. The clan leader was still settling the aftermath of forcibly unleashing the Emperor Sword Form. Having driven the Azure Vault Grand Expansion Divine Art to its absolute limit, a dense blue aura still clung about him.
Hyeonsong clasped his fist in formal salute.
"Clan Leader, I have learned much from this exchange."
Namgung Shin threw back his head and laughed.
"What sort of talk is that, Sect Leader!"
"The Emperor Sword Form of the Namgung Clan… it truly lives up to its renown."
"To experience the Wudang Taegeukhyekeom for myself—rather, the honor is mine."
Still flushed with excitement, Namgung Shin turned to his two sons.
"Did you see?"
"Yes, Father!"
"Your father is still lacking—I can manage only the first form of the Emperor Sword Form."
As Hyeonsong made his way toward the far side of the grounds, Namgung Shin sheathed his sword.
"But when all five forms of the Emperor Sword Form are complete, there will be nothing left in this world that cannot be cut…"
His sons' eyes shone as he spoke.
"Remember well the bout you witnessed today."
"We will take it to heart."
Meanwhile, Hyeonsong was already deep in discussion with Yeong-hwa and Hagun.
"Yeong-hwa, what was lacking?"
Yeong-hwa answered at once.
"Your intent was insufficient."
Hyeonsong smiled.
"Well said. At the last moment, my heart wavered."
Hagun looked ready to burst with impatience at the sword discourse between them.
"Explain it properly, Yeong-hwa!"
Chaang—
Yeong-hwa drew his sword without hesitation. The blade traced a circle as he settled into a low guard. A faint pattern of the Taegeuk wrapped around his back.
Saaaaah—
With a soft wind, his body turned. When the movements of the Taegeukhyekeom were complete, the tip of his sword pointed precisely forward.
Watching the seamless, water-like flow, Hyeonsong sank into thought while Hagun's mouth fell open.
Hyeonsong stirred from his musing.
"The final portion has not yet settled into the body."
Yeong-hwa sheathed his sword as he replied.
"The Sect Leader's sword path carries far too much killing intent."
A sorrowful look crossed his face as he continued.
"No doubt it was tempered and blossomed on the battlefield."
Hyeonsong nodded in quiet agreement.
"That is why you completed the Guhontalbaekgeom so swiftly, while the Taegeukhyekeom has lagged behind."
"True enough. It still feels awkward…"
"But the true essence of a Wudang sword has never been to kill. Its purpose is to subdue."
"I see, Yeong-hwa."
"You must let go of the remnants of the past now."
Having said it, Yeong-hwa scratched his head, faintly embarrassed. Hyeonsong stroked the boy's hair with a gentle hand.
"Remnants…"
For a moment the reek of the old battlefields rose again in Hyeonsong's mind.
Thud— thud— thud— thud—
From the opposite side, where he had been explaining the Emperor Sword Form to his sons, Namgung Shin approached. He offered Hyeonsong a light formal salute.
"Sect Leader, I too have learned much."
"Clan Leader, the Azure Heaven of Namgung remains as high and boundlessly blue as ever."
They smiled at one another.
Leaving their disciples and sons on the training grounds, Namgung Shin and Hyeonsong entered the main hall. Namgung Shin summoned an attendant to bring tea. When it arrived, he filled Hyeonsong's cup himself.
"You leave today?"
"The Paeng Clan sent a letter urging me to come at once."
"A pity."
"Amitabha. Where there is meeting, parting must follow—is that not the natural order of things?"
Hyeonsong drew a carefully folded letter from his robes. Namgung Shin accepted it and asked,
"What is this?"
"I have chosen a name for the grandson soon to be born to the clan."
Hyeonsong gave a hearty laugh.
"I asked Yeong-hwa for it specially—you may trust it."
Color rose in Namgung Shin's face.
"You have my deepest thanks, Sect Leader."
Just then a clean wind drifted in through the open window of the main hall. The breeze from the slopes of Huangshan wrapped Hyeonsong in its warmth, as if offering its own gratitude.
That night, Yeong-hwa, Hagun, and Hyeonsong boarded the carriage the Namgung Clan had prepared for them. It set out for Hebei Province, home of the Paeng Clan.
Before long, three weeks of life on the road had passed. After a midday meal at an inn, Yeong-hwa and his companions climbed back into the carriage, rubbing their heavy eyes.
Hagun spoke to Yeong-hwa.
"Yeong-hwa, a carriage really is a fine thing."
Yeong-hwa stretched into a long yawn.
"It is, Senior Brother…"
"Hrrrk— snrrk— hrrrk— snrrk—"
The carriage filled with the snoring of Yeong-hwa and Hagun. Even Hyeonsong, who had been leaning on his sword and gazing out the window, quietly drifted off to sleep.
How much time passed, no one could say.
Then Yeong-hwa's eyes snapped open.
Chaak—
He flung open the carriage window in haste. They had already passed through Hebei Province and were traveling a lonely mountain road.
Startled awake by Yeong-hwa's reaction, Hagun's hand drifted toward his sword.
"Yeong-hwa—bandits?"
"No."
Yeong-hwa called out toward the driver's seat.
"Stop the carriage, please!"
The carriage jerked to a halt. The horses shied and reared.
"Hiiiiiigh—"
The driver scrambled to soothe them.
Bulk—
Yeong-hwa threw open the door and launched himself outside with the Cloud-Stepping Art.
A small mountain near Tianjin County, seat of the Hebei Paeng Clan. Thick, heavy snow was falling all around. The world had become a pure white canvas locked in a landscape of snow.
Thud— thud— thud— thud—
As if drawn by something unseen, Yeong-hwa pushed through snow piled to his ankles and entered a stand of gaunt, bare trees. Hyeonsong and Hagun hurried after him.
Using the Cloud-Stepping Art to skim lightly over the snow, Hyeonsong laid a hand on Yeong-hwa's shoulder.
"Yeong-hwa, what is it?"
"The White Tiger Deity is weeping…"
Where Yeong-hwa pointed stood a small burial mound. Before it, a man in a white long robe embroidered with a crimson tiger knelt upon the ground. A massive red greatsaber was strapped across his back.
Hagun, arriving a breath later, spoke.
"A martial artist of the Hebei Paeng Clan, by the look of him."
The man paid their presence no mind. With his bare hands he brushed the snow from the mound.
Sseuk— sseuk— sseuk— sseuk—
He used no internal energy. His hands flushed red with the cold, yet he did not stop.
Yeong-hwa approached him slowly. When barely a single jang of distance remained, the moment Yeong-hwa's foot touched the edge of the gravesite, the man rose.
Kuuuuung—
As he turned and stamped a true step, every flake of snow on the ground leapt into the air. A tremendous sonic boom rolled across the clearing. He looked for all the world like a tiger in full roar.
Even under the direct force of that aura, Yeong-hwa did not retreat.
Skaaaang—
With a harsh rasp the greatsaber tore free of its sheath at the man's back.
Shuaaaaah—
Red lightning flashed along the blade as it leveled at Yeong-hwa's throat. The warrior's mouth opened.
"Final warning."
His voice was cracked, as if long unused.
"Take not another step."
Drip— drip— drip—
A thin line of fresh blood ran from Yeong-hwa's neck and stained the snow red.
"The White Tiger Deity calls me."
Yeong-hwa's eyes were utterly lost to possession.
"For now… let me hear your story."
He laid his hand upon the blade where the red saber qi flickered. In the same instant, both his eyes and the man's closed.
The moment their eyes shut, the world vanished—and the forgotten memories of one man began to bloom.
The pleasure house buried in pure white snow looked much as it did on this very day.
A martial artist behind the man standing before the small establishment grumbled.
"Young Master, the Snow Glory Pavilion—again?"
At that, Paeng Yu-heon, eldest son of the Hebei Paeng Clan, laughed with full-throated ease.
"I'm buying the drinks today—got a complaint?"
Cheers rose from the Paeng martial artists trailing him.
"That's our Young Master!"
"His spirit is on another level!"
They wore crimson long robes embroidered with black tigers—the Black Tiger Thunder Shadow Corps, pride of the Hebei Paeng Clan.
"But there is one condition!"
The moment Paeng Yu-heon spoke, the corps members shouted as one, already knowing the rule.
"Never call him Young Master!"
"Good. Tonight we drink until our noses are crooked!"
"Yes, Commander!"
With booming laughter the doors of the Snow Glory Pavilion swung open. The men found seats of their own choosing and freely ordered wine and food.
For a small pleasure house, the place was refined beyond expectation. A woman in light silks approached Paeng Yu-heon and bowed.
"You have come, Commander."
"Is today the day?"
"It is. You always remember."
Cheon Hwa-rin—mistress of the Snow Glory Pavilion and its foremost courtesan—carefully linked her arm through his.
"But Commander, just for today, instead of that, why not stay with me and…"
Paeng Yu-heon cut her off at once.
"Show me to the third floor."
Cheon Hwa-rin's lips pushed out in a pout.
"As you wish, Commander."
Following her, the faint sound of a zither grew steadily clearer. The music struck deep into every heart that heard it.
The uppermost floor was draped in lavish crimson silk. At its center, a woman with a black blindfold over her eyes sat playing the zither. From the sound, the performance had only just begun.
Paeng Yu-heon hurried to a seat and sat. To the thoroughly sulking Cheon Hwa-rin he said,
"The usual, if you please. Put whatever the men drink tonight on my tab."
"Haa… what is so wonderful about that zither that you do this every time…"
She quietly instructed a waiter.
"Put it on the Commander of the Black Tiger Thunder Shadow Corps' account."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Regardless of Cheon Hwa-rin's complicated feelings, the woman's hands flew across the strings. The melody unfurled in every direction as if dancing.
Paeng Yu-heon never noticed when the food and wine arrived. He sat lost, wholly absorbed in the woman before him.
The performance ended—quiet, yet sharp with buried sorrow.
Clap— clap— clap— clap—
Everyone gathered on the third floor applauded. The woman rose with the support of a small girl waiting at her side and bowed to the room.
Then Paeng Yu-heon stood and walked toward her.