Water Quells Flame
Fwoosh—
One wall of Huashan’s Red Pine Palace melted away in an instant.
A moment later Wol-yeon’s eyes flooded crimson. She fixed Yeong-hwa with a murderous glare and drove her sword forward.
Clang—
Yeong-hwa turned the Plum Blossom Sword aside with the Songmun Ancient Sword. Tap—tap— The two sprang apart and landed on the great training ground before the palace.
The shock of the collapsing wall sent the elders who had been resting inside rushing out, Plum Blossom Swords already in hand.
“What in heaven’s name is this?”
“Has Wol-yeon’s madness flared up again?”
Whoosh—
Wol-yeon settled into a stance and walls of flame erupted across the training ground.
“Eeek!”
“Everyone, fall back!”
The Huashan elders fled the blazing arena in panic. Amid the roaring fire Yeong-hwa lightly assumed his own stance and spoke.
“Vermilion Bird Deity. We meet again.”
Wol-yeon’s face twisted with fury.
“Did I not make myself clear?”
Fwoosh—
Plum-blossom flames blossomed along her blade, petals of fire curling protectively around her entire body.
“Stay out of this sect’s affairs…!”
A fierce cutting wind swept down the peaks of Huashan and became a blizzard that howled around Yeong-hwa. Wol-yeon threw back her head in mad laughter.
“A worthless shaman dares challenge a god?”
Yeong-hwa’s eyes turned black. The Black Tortoise mark on the back of his hand flared with dark light. He looked at her and smiled.
“That worthless shaman, as it happens, also knows how to call down a god.”
Black snow-wind coiled around his sword. Wol-yeon’s expression hardened. Feeling the Black Tortoise Deity’s power surge through him, Yeong-hwa continued.
“I never properly showed the Vermilion Bird Deity last time… Water energy quells fire energy. That is the natural order of things.”
The Vermilion Bird within Wol-yeon recoiled from the killing cold. Yeong-hwa’s sword swung with unhurried certainty.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He brought the blade down with everything he had. Boom—boooom—boooooom— Waves of snow crashed over Wol-yeon. She slashed a line across the ground and a wall of flame shot skyward—only to freeze solid the instant the blizzard struck. Crack-crack-crack— Through the collapsing ice Yeong-hwa’s sword stabbed like a striking viper.
Clang—
Wol-yeon knocked it aside with the flat of her blade, yet frost continued to claim her limbs. When even her footwork failed her, Yeong-hwa spoke.
“Just what is Daoist Wol-yeon to you, that the Vermilion Bird Deity clings so desperately?”
“Silence!”
Flame engulfed her body once more.
“She is mine… This child is mine!”
“Come to your senses!”
“What would you know?”
The god raved through her lips.
“This child is loved by the sword itself!”
Yeong-hwa shook his head.
“It is true that the Martial Star shines upon Daoist Wol-yeon… But why do you refuse to see that she is also favored by the Crimson Orchid Star?”
The plum-blossom flames around her blazed brighter.
“The path of an artist? You would entrust this child’s destiny to such a lowly spark?”
The Vermilion Bird was shrieking now.
“You’re utterly mad! With talent like this she could easily become the greatest under heaven—!”
Yeong-hwa cut the god short.
“Is that what Daoist Wol-yeon wished for?”
The words struck the deity dumb.
“That is…”
“Did she ever pray to you for such a thing?”
Under the force of that rebuke the Vermilion Bird could find no answer.
“I will never release this child.”
Fwoosh—
The plum-blossom flames wreathing Wol-yeon slowly died away. A mocking smile twisted her lips.
“No doubt every disciple of Huashan feels the same.”
The deity left one final murmur as it withdrew.
“A person’s desire is endless—like a flame that never burns out…”
Thud—
Wol-yeon collapsed, unconscious from the aftermath of possession. Yeong-hwa dropped to the ground and jabbed an accusing finger toward Huashan’s ancestral shrine.
“You damned Vermilion Bird!”
Unlike every guardian deity he had ever met, this one knew neither protection nor restraint nor balance. The obsessive fixation it cast over Wol-yeon was no divine radiance—only the shadow of pure greed.
“That thing… isn’t a god. It’s the incarnation of desire itself!”
Voices rang out from the main gate of the Red Pine Palace—Hyeonsong and Jaheo.
“Yeong-hwa!”
“Daoist Yeong-hwa!”
Tap—tap—
Hagun unfolded the Taiji Azure Pine Steps, reached Yeong-hwa, and hauled him upright.
“Yeong-hwa, are you all right?”
Myeongjeong crossed the ground with Flying Flower Flowing Steps and carefully gathered Wol-yeon into his arms.
“Wol-yeon! Wol-yeon!”
Hyeonsong, arriving with Hagun, looked at Yeong-hwa.
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story…”
Slumped against Hagun’s back, Yeong-hwa let out a weary breath.
“But my strength is—”
He never finished the sentence. Darkness took him.
Jaheo surveyed the melted, frozen wreckage of the Red Pine Palace and sighed.
“Wol-yeon’s madness has flared again, it seems…”
Hyeonsong regarded him with open doubt.
“Senior Jaheo, in this condition, would it not be better for Daoist Wol-yeon to leave Huashan…?”
“Impossible!”
Jaheo’s urgency was plain.
“That child is a gift bestowed upon our sect by the Primordial Celestial Worthy himself!”
“Pardon?”
“Have I not told you? Wol-yeon’s martial talent is the greatest Huashan has ever known!”
“Senior, a sword that has lost its way brings only empty slaughter.”
“Would you be able to do it, if you were in my place?”
Asked as one sect leader to another, Hyeonsong found no reply.
“Wol-yeon is only just of marriageable age…”
A thousand emotions crossed Jaheo’s face as he looked at the girl.
“Could you cast out a disciple who has barely stepped into the Super Expert realm simply because of madness?”
Hyeonsong could only lower his head in silence.
“I will cure her. I swear it!”
Desire for Huashan’s glory burned in Jaheo’s eyes.
“If we can only free her of this madness and the strange sorcery that clings to her…”
He watched until the last of Wol-yeon’s form vanished, cradled in Myeongjeong’s arms.
“The next Greatest Under Heaven will come from our sect!”
Early spring still held Huashan in the grip of winter’s spite. The plum blossoms that had opened so lavishly trembled under the savage snow-wind, shedding petals like tears.
Hyeonsong’s voice reached Yeong-hwa’s ears.
“Yeong-hwa, are you awake?”
The deep fragrance of plum blossoms filled the air as he stirred.
“Ugh… it’s so cold.”
Wrapped in blankets, he pushed himself upright. Hagun held out a steaming bowl.
“Drink this. A decoction from Huashan’s Medical Flower Hall.”
Yeong-hwa accepted the warm vessel, smiled at the heat seeping into his palms, and slowly drained it.
“Ahh… I might actually live.”
Hagun next produced a silk-wrapped pill from his robes.
“Take this as well.”
“What is it?”
“The famous Purple Firmament Pill.”
“What?”
Yeong-hwa’s eyes went round. Hagun nodded, envy plain on his face. Hyeonsong spoke with a bitter expression.
“Sect Leader Jaheo asked me to give it to you. He said to look after Wol-yeon well.”
Yeong-hwa waved both hands in refusal.
“Sect Leader, this must be returned at once.”
Hagun looked puzzled.
“Yeong-hwa, a Purple Firmament Pill is—”
“I know. It’s as precious as our own Great Clarity Divine Pill. Which is exactly why it’s a trap.”
“We have no intention of harming Daoist Wol-yeon.”
Yeong-hwa pulled the blankets tighter around himself.
“About Daoist Wol-yeon…”
He told them everything that had happened in Elder Jangjin’s chambers.
“Such a thing!”
“So that is why Shaolin sought our aid?”
“I believe Daoist Wol-yeon must leave Huashan.”
Hyeonsong’s face grew grave.
“Yeong-hwa, have you considered Sect Leader Jaheo’s position?”
His voice was heavy with sorrow.
“I understand what you mean. But for a sect leader, such a decision is never simple.”
“I understand that as well.”
“Do you have a plan, then?”
Yeong-hwa’s ears pricked. He flung the blankets aside and climbed from the bed, eyes bright.
“That plan, Sect Leader…”
“It’s all right. Speak.”
“Trust Senior Brother and me, and return the Purple Firmament Pill to Huashan.”
“Very well.”
As Hyeonsong tucked the pill away, Yeong-hwa hastily pulled on his robes.
“Senior Brother!”
“Uuuugh…”
Hagun was already pressing a hand to his forehead.
“What now? What scheme are you cooking up this time?”
“Tomorrow a ritual will be held.”
“Again?”
Yeong-hwa nodded.
“But first we have somewhere to go.”
His gaze swept the guest hall and settled on the drum and zither resting side by side—Hagun’s drum and Wol-yeon’s zither. A pleased smile touched his lips.
“Senior Brother, how about loosening up those muscles for tomorrow’s ritual? It’s been a while.”
“You want me to practice drumming?”
“This isn’t practice.”
Yeong-hwa grinned at him.
“A true master of the drum only improves when he meets another artist of equal measure.”
He carefully slung Wol-yeon’s qi-laden zither across his back. Hagun shrugged into his own robes and gathered drum and mallets.
“Well, I don’t mind, but…”
Yeong-hwa threw open the guest-hall doors. Night on Huashan bloomed gently around them—fragrant plum blossoms silvered by moonlight.
He clasped his hands behind his back, then flicked open his fan with a soft snap.
“Time to meet the zither’s true owner.”
“Hmm?”
“An artist aching with longing will be wandering Huashan tonight.”
“There you go with your riddles again.”
Yeong-hwa gazed up at the star-strewn sky.
“Looks like the Southern Dipper is about to stir up another storm.”
He cleared his throat with mock gravity.
“Tsk. Too cruel by half. Love is a difficult sickness for any Daoist to bear…”
“The Southern Dipper—those are the stars you mentioned at the Namgung Clan? Family affairs and romance, wasn’t it?”
Yeong-hwa’s smile turned sly.
“I think Senior Brother is about to have a most excellent experience. Opportunities like this almost never come twice.”
He offered Hyeonsong a respectful martial salute, then launched himself into the air with the Cloud-Stepping Steps, soaring among the blossoms. Hagun bowed as well and hurried after him.
They glided deeper into Huashan, treading lightly from one blooming plum tree to the next. Uneasy in the thickening dark, Hagun called out.
“Yeong-hwa, do you actually know where you’re going?”
“I’m not the one leading!”
His clear voice rang across the mountain.
“The plum blossoms of Huashan are showing us the way.”
He danced ahead, light and sure. How long they traveled, neither could say—until a sword’s cry, pure as a plucked string, pierced Hagun’s ears.
Ding—diiing—diiiiing—
“Yeong-hwa, someone—”
Yeong-hwa turned and pressed a finger to his lips.
“That is the sword-song of the one we came to meet.”
“How can a swordsman’s cry sound like a melody played on a zither?”
“Did I not tell you?”
Tap—
Yeong-hwa landed, still riding the Cloud-Stepping Steps from treetop to earth. Before him, beneath a magnificent, radiant plum tree, a Plum Blossom Swordswoman danced with her blade. Bamboo hat pulled low, she seemed lost in the music of her own sword.
“I said Senior Brother Hagun would meet a true artist tonight—one who will raise his drumming to new heights.”
Petals of sword qi, timed perfectly to the falling blossoms, painted the night sky. These were no ordinary soft pinks of Huashan’s usual sword light. Scarlet the color of living flame began to dye the darkness around them.
Hagun murmured in awe.
“The Twenty-Four Hands Plum Blossom Sword Art…”
Crimson plum blossoms danced, gorgeous and heartbreaking, at the tip of her blade. The melody flowing from the steel was as if the immortal of the zither herself had returned to life.