A Fate Most Pitiful
"May I... really go with you?"
Yeong-hwa pressed his thumb to the edge of the blade. Blood welled up at once.
"You see, my proper vocation is that of a Taoist priest, and shamanism is merely my side work..."
"A shaman?"
"A mystic from Goryeo, if you will."
Riiip—
Yeong-hwa tore a strip from his robe sleeve, fashioning a scrap of cloth the size of a talisman. With his bleeding thumb he began to draw upon the cloth in a single fluid stroke.
Whether curiosity had been stirred by Yeong-hwa's unharmed appearance, or whether her guard had simply lowered, Wol-yeon edged closer step by step.
"Fire Bond Severed... Flower Spirit Suppressed?"
Wol-yeon read aloud the characters Yeong-hwa had inscribed upon the cloth. Then he pressed his hand—marked with the pattern of the Black Tortoise—against the talisman and chanted.
"Om, swiftly, swiftly, as the law commands, svaha."
Black snakes emerged from the back of his hand and writhed their way into the talisman.
"This should be enough to hold the Vermilion Bird deity's meddling at bay."
Weariness written plain across his face, Yeong-hwa yawned and held the talisman out to Wol-yeon.
"Here, Daoist Wol-yeon. Don't worry—take this talisman."
Wol-yeon hesitated, then approached him slowly. Having spent divine power upon the talisman, Yeong-hwa looked exhausted. She carefully accepted it and tucked it into her robes, then bowed at the waist in thanks.
"Thank you... Truly, thank you."
"Shall we enter the Huashan Sect now?"
"But..."
"The Sect Leader and elders you're so worried about should be perfectly fine by now."
Whistling lightly, Yeong-hwa set off toward the Southern Heaven Gate. Wol-yeon sheathed her sword and hurried after him in a quick patter of steps.
Inside the White Plum Tranquil Pavilion Palace, Hyeonsong and the Snow Plum Sword Sovereign were locked in grave discussion. Arrayed around them were the twelve elders of the Huashan Sect as well. One elder, his face particularly steeped in sorrow, bore a deep sword wound across his shoulder. Myeongjeong, the eldest disciple of Huashan and senior martial brother to the rest, was applying wound salve and wrapping bandages around the injury.
"Senior Snow Plum Sword Sovereign, just what in the world happened?"
"My friend, stop calling me by that moniker, would you..."
The Sect Leader of Huashan—the Snow Plum Sword Sovereign—wore an expression thick with shame.
"Forgive me. To expose such a disgrace before you, my junior..."
He took Hyeonsong's hand and apologized in earnest.
"It is nothing, Senior Jaheo."
Hyeonsong clasped the hand of Jaheo, Sect Leader of Huashan, and continued.
"Would you do me the kindness of explaining what has happened?"
At that, Jaheo's gaze fell upon the bloodstained zither set in the center of the White Plum Tranquil Pavilion Palace.
"All because of that cursed thing Elder Jangjin gifted her..."
"Sect Leader!"
The elder receiving treatment from Myeongjeong shot to his feet.
"What is it, Elder Jangjin!"
"We agreed to bury this matter forever—!"
Jaheo cut him off and rose sharply to his feet.
"Junior brother, does this look to you like something that can simply be buried?"
"Senior brother!"
"I know how dearly you cherish Wol-yeon, but look at what happened today!"
Jaheo showed no sign of backing down.
"I know it well. Wol-yeon possesses the finest martial talent Huashan has ever seen!"
He bit his lip and pressed on.
"But she cannot even control her killing aura—she goes berserk without reason, and every time she resorts to some uncanny dark art. What would you have me do!"
"We are a Taoist sect of the Nine Great Sects. All the more reason we should embrace her and guide her rightly!"
"Speak honestly. Among the elders present, who can stop Wol-yeon when she loses control?"
Jaheo swept his fury-hardened gaze across the Huashan elders.
"Tell me—who besides myself can restrain Wol-yeon when she is possessed by the sword and runs amok!"
He thundered at the silent Elder Jangjin.
"None of us knows when the next incident will strike!"
Hyeonsong rose and sought to calm the fuming Jaheo.
"Senior Jaheo, please—calm yourself for a moment."
Jaheo exhaled a long sigh and heeded the counsel.
"You are right. What good does anger do?"
With a sorrowful look he took Hyeonsong's hand once more.
"Help us. Help Huashan."
"Of course. How could a fellow Taoist turn a blind eye to another sect's crisis?"
"I am truly grateful."
"Once Yeong-hwa arrives, let us speak further."
"I shall explain the situation to you first..."
Unable to contain his rage any longer, Elder Jangjin slammed his fist down upon the table and stormed toward the exit. The door to the Sect Leader's hall scraped open roughly. It was precisely the moment Yeong-hwa and Wol-yeon were entering the White Plum Tranquil Pavilion Palace.
Wol-yeon looked at Elder Jangjin and spoke in a trembling voice.
"Elder Jangjin..."
Elder Jangjin looked at her and hung his head in powerlessness.
"I am sorry."
Leaving only those few words, he unfurled his Dark Fragrance Steps and vanished from the White Plum Tranquil Pavilion Palace. Yeong-hwa watched the two of them with a baffled expression.
"Let us go inside for now."
"Yes, Daoist Yeong-hwa."
When Yeong-hwa and Wol-yeon stepped within, the elders regarded her with cold, resentful eyes. Elder Jade Wind cleared his throat and rose from his seat.
"Ahem."
"Hem."
The other elders did likewise. They clasped their fists toward the Sect Leader and spoke.
"We shall take our leave as well."
Jaheo replied,
"Very well. Rest well, all of you."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
Once the elders had all departed, only Hyeonsong and Jaheo, Hagun and Myeongjeong, Yeong-hwa and Wol-yeon remained within the White Plum Tranquil Pavilion Palace.
Just then, Wol-yeon—walking toward Jaheo with her head deeply bowed—fixed a strangely intoxicated gaze upon the zither. With a pitiful caress of her hand she reached toward the distant instrument and stroked it.
At that moment a bizarre sound rang out.
Kyaaaaaaa—
It was the black snakes of the Black Tortoise thrashing within the talisman Yeong-hwa had given her.
Thwack—
"Ah!"
Yeong-hwa's hand struck down upon Wol-yeon's wrist with lightning speed.
"So it was that thing."
Clutching her wrist, Wol-yeon asked him,
"What do you mean...?"
Yeong-hwa clicked his tongue and spoke.
"Aigoo... I only just finished a ritual, and already I have to set up another gut board..."
Yeong-hwa called out to Hagun.
"Senior Brother Hagun!"
"What is it?"
"I have a favor to ask."
"What?"
"Do you see that zither over there?"
"That bloodstained one, you mean?"
"Yes. Would you place it beside the drum we carry with us?"
"Huh?"
Hagun looked distinctly uneasy.
"Yeong-hwa, even so..."
"That drum is a sacred instrument we brought from Mount Baekdu in Goryeo."
"I thought the feel at my fingertips was different every time I struck it."
Unlike at the start, he seemed to have grown thoroughly fond of the drum—Hagun treasured it dreadfully.
"If it stays beside the drum, even that cursed object will not dare run wild."
"Well, but Yeong-hwa—"
"Yes, Senior Brother?"
Thump—Hagun rapped him on the head with a knuckle.
"Is running errands for you the only thing you ever ask of this senior brother!"
Yeong-hwa clutched his head, looking thoroughly wronged.
"That's not—"
"Enough, Yeong-hwa."
Hagun unfolded the Taiji Azure Pine Steps and approached the bloodstained zither. He slung it over his shoulder.
"I'll be right back. In return, you explain the profound principles of the Taegeukhyekeom tonight!"
Without giving Yeong-hwa a chance to answer, Hagun unfurled the Riding Cloud Steps and vanished with the zither in a blur. Wol-yeon watched the instrument—bound to Hagun's back as it disappeared—with a look of piteous longing.
"Daoist Yeong-hwa... That zither..."
"I know. I understand everything!"
Yeong-hwa met the eyes of Wol-yeon, who trembled with anxiety at the zither's disappearance.
"When the time is right, I will return it to you."
Finished speaking, Yeong-hwa rubbed the crown of his head—still smarting from Hagun's knuckle—and approached Hyeonsong and Jaheo. He offered Jaheo a respectful salute with clasped hands.
"I am Yeong-hwa, third-generation disciple of the Wudang Sect."
Jaheo welcomed him warmly.
"I have heard the renown of Daoist Yeong-hwa, which has spread far and wide across the Central Plains."
He gestured for him to sit.
"Please, be seated."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
As Yeong-hwa took his place, Wol-yeon moved to stand behind Jaheo. Yeong-hwa spoke first.
"This is because of Daoist Wol-yeon, is it not?"
"It is."
"If I may venture a guess—when Daoist Wol-yeon plays the zither, the elders and disciples of Huashan lose their reason."
At those words Jaheo's eyes went wide.
"How do you know that?"
"But the strange part is..."
Yeong-hwa continued slowly.
"...that it does not happen every time. Correct?"
"You are right, Daoist Yeong-hwa..."
A bitter cast settled over Jaheo's features.
"In the past only the disciples would run mad. Now even the elders have joined the frenzy."
Shame colored his face.
"And now even I—who alone had managed to keep my composure—..."
"That is no fault of yours, Sect Leader."
Whoosh—Yeong-hwa drew a fan from his waist and snapped it open.
"There is something I wish to ask the Sect Leader of Huashan."
"Speak. I will answer you honestly."
"Would you abandon Daoist Wol-ye—"
Before Yeong-hwa could finish, a roar of fury erupted from behind him.
The voice belonged to none other than Myeongjeong. Jaheo and Hyeonsong turned to stare at him in shock. He blinked rapidly, over and over.
"No—what—why..."
Slap—slap—slap—slap—slap—slap—
He shook his head and struck his own cheeks. Hyeonsong regarded him with a look of oddity and asked,
"Are you all right, young man?"
Jaheo furrowed his brow as he looked at Myeongjeong.
"Myeongjeong... You are not yourself today either."
Quickly recovering his wits, Myeongjeong spoke with a calm expression.
"Yes, Sect Leader. I momentarily lost my composure..."
"No—I understand. You have cherished Wol-yeon so deeply all this time. Your feelings are clear enough, but..."
Just then Yeong-hwa sprang to his feet and drew a silver bell from his robes.
Jingle—jingle—jingle—jingle—jingle—
He approached Myeongjeong, shaking the bell.
"Daoist Yeong-hwa, what is the meaning of this?"
Paying no heed, Yeong-hwa continued to ring the silver bell as he scanned Myeongjeong from head to toe. Yet the bell produced only a calm, steady chime. Yeong-hwa tilted his head and addressed him.
"There is nothing amiss with Daoist Myeongjeong..."
He regarded Myeongjeong with a look of genuine puzzlement.
"Is there anything you wish to tell me?"
Under Yeong-hwa's probing, Myeongjeong shook his head.
"Daoist Yeong-hwa, I am the eldest disciple of the Huashan Sect."
His face was absolute in its denial.
"I swear upon Huashan itself—I have never done anything of which I need be ashamed."
"Hmm..."
Yeong-hwa felt something was not quite right, yet with a look of resignation he returned to his seat. Just then Hagun returned to the White Plum Tranquil Pavilion Palace. The Sect Leaders' suspicious gazes upon Myeongjeong naturally faded away.
"Sect Leader, I have returned."
Hyeonsong gestured him over. As Hagun approached, Wol-yeon—who until now had kept her eyes fixed on the ground—looked properly upon his face for the first time. Her eyes flew wide; she recoiled in fright and immediately dropped her head low once more.
As the troubled atmosphere settled into quiet, Hyeonsong introduced the disciple standing beside him.
"Senior Jaheo, this is Hagun, whom I intend to take as my personal disciple."
Hagun bowed respectfully at the waist toward Jaheo.
"I regret that I could not greet you sooner. I am Hagun, first-generation disciple of the Wudang Sect."
Jaheo smiled kindly upon him.
"Ah, Junior Brother Hyeonsong has always had a discerning eye—and truly, you have found an excellent disciple."
"You flatter me."
Looking toward Myeongjeong behind him, Jaheo introduced him in a warm, paternal voice.
"This is Myeongjeong, eldest among the disciples of Huashan and my own personal disciple."
Myeongjeong clasped his fists toward Hyeonsong and Hagun.
"I failed to offer a proper greeting earlier. I am Myeongjeong, first-generation disciple of the Huashan Sect."
Hagun extended his hand warmly toward Myeongjeong.
"I have heard that the plum blossoms which bloom upon Huashan's sword are of extraordinary beauty."
Myeongjeong smiled gently and took Hagun's hand.
"And I have heard that Wudang's sword is like the gentle spring breeze—try as one might, there is no escaping it."
Hagun scratched his head and asked Myeongjeong,
"If it is at all possible, I would love to witness Huashan's sword for myself..."
"A sparring match with a master of Daoist Hagun's caliber is always welcome."
At their cordial exchange, Hyeonsong and Jaheo burst into hearty laughter.
"Our Myeongjeong is skilled in medicine as well and resides at the Hall of Healing Blossoms. Daoist Hagun, you must pay him a visit."
"Yes, Sect Leader. Thank you!"
Amid the warm atmosphere, only Yeong-hwa continued to stare sharply at one particular place. There stood Wol-yeon, her head bowed deeply, beside Myeongjeong.
Yeong-hwa saw it clearly. She was swallowing her tears, weeping with silent, wrenching sorrow. Even as Hagun and Myeongjeong, Hyeonsong and Jaheo, continued their pleasant conversation, Yeong-hwa kept his eyes fixed upon her.
"They say no one in this world is without a story..."
Yeong-hwa murmured quietly to himself.
"What a truly wretched and heartbreaking fate she bears."
Yeong-hwa rose from his seat.
"It seems the conversation between you two gentlemen will run long. I shall prepare some tea."
Hyeonsong nodded at him.
"Go on, then."
Yeong-hwa looked at Wol-yeon and asked,
"Daoist Wol-yeon, come with me. I need your help."
"Yes..."
Wol-yeon answered in a voice thick with tears and hurried after him with short, quick steps.