Two Roads to Kaifeng
Namgung Cheon frowned down at the meager bundle of belongings laid out on the table.
Is this really everything?
A couple of spare martial robes, the Nine Dragons Bank note he'd tucked away for emergencies, and the Poison Avoiding Bead. At his waist, Changcheon and Mukhon hung side by side as always. He wracked his brain for anything he might be forgetting, but nothing came to mind. Truthfully, even this much was more than he would have bothered with if not for Mujin's influence — the man who lugged a mountain of luggage everywhere he went.
Just then, the door burst open and Mujin strode in.
And.
"……?"
Namgung Cheon's head tilted of its own accord at the sight of him. Slung across Mujin's back was an enormous bundle, packed so haphazardly he looked like a man fleeing in the middle of the night.
Once inside, Mujin wore an equally puzzled expression as his gaze landed on the martial robes and the bank note sitting on the table. For a moment, the two simply stood there, staring at each other's luggage in silence.
"……."
"……."
It was Mujin who broke the silence first, his face a picture of disbelief.
"Where are you off to?"
"Kaifeng."
At Namgung Cheon's curt reply, Mujin narrowed his eyes and pointed at the table.
"And that's all you're taking to Kaifeng? You're not exactly leading a vanguard charge, you know." He clicked his tongue. "I know you warriors like to say all you need is your own two hands, but there's still such a thing as dignity. What is this?"
"Whatever I need, I can get along the way." Namgung Cheon answered flatly, then jerked his chin toward Mujin's bundle. "I never asked you to come along."
Mujin glanced down at his own baggage before replying. "Ah, this?" He thumped the bundle on his back. "Who said anything about following you? I have somewhere I need to be."
"Somewhere you need to be?"
Namgung Cheon's echo carried genuine surprise. There was only one kind of place Mujin ever went — a tavern or an inn, or at most the market street near the clan estate. But the expression on Mujin's face was, for once, dead serious.
"The itch got to me, that's all. Figured I'd go look for my master."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Well, he did tell me not to come looking until I understood the meaning of Jeokmyeol. But sooner or later I have to face him, don't I? A few beatings won't kill me."
Mujin turned his gaze to the distant sky beyond the window. Longing and bitterness flickered across his eyes for the space of a breath.
"I worry he might've died in some roadside inn, too."
The words were wrapped in a joke, but there was no missing the sincerity underneath. Namgung Cheon fell quiet for a moment.
The truth was, he had been planning to make Mujin a different offer — to leave him in the care of his granduncle, Namgung Dan, while he himself traveled to Kaifeng. Namgung Dan, the Master of Jeongcheon Hall, was an eccentric enough to earn the name Sword Freak, but his strength was the genuine article. If Mujin trained under him, it was obvious his realm would climb another step.
But one look at that fire in Mujin's eyes told him there was no need to bring it up.
"……And one more thing." Mujin slapped the scabbard at his waist, his gaze settling on Namgung Cheon. "Watching you all this time has taught me a lot. But it's also made something clear — my own sword needs refining."
His voice dropped low.
"Honestly? I'm jealous. Watching you turn into a monster overnight, growing stronger by the day while I stay rooted in place… it's not a good feeling."
He gave a wry smile. "At first I thought I was a step ahead of you. Then somehow we were even. And now…"
He let the sentence trail off, but Namgung Cheon had no trouble finishing it in his head. By now, he had left Mujin completely behind. And Mujin felt that gap in his bones.
"Still, wouldn't it be better to stay at the clan? Sparring partners are a dime a dozen there — it doesn't have to be me."
At that, Mujin broke into a grin. "Is that worry I hear? I never knew you had it in you, my young master."
Namgung Cheon's brow furrowed. "That's not it."
"Haha, of course, of course. But honestly, my fate was never meant for lounging around eating another household's rice while training in comfort. I need to go roll around in the rough belly of the gangho again. That's the only way I'll close even a sliver of the distance."
For all his joking tone, his eyes were resolute. Rather than settle into the peaceful ease of the clan estate, he would temper himself amid the storms of the road. It was the way of the wandering swordsman.
Namgung Cheon studied him for a long moment, then spoke. "Understood."
He did not press further. Respecting each man's own path — that was the courtesy one warrior owed another. He drew a thick bundle of bank notes from his robe, ones he had prepared in advance, and set them on the table.
"Take it."
Mujin's eyes went wide. Even at a glance, it was a substantial sum.
"Wha— what's all this for?"
"Drinking money for the road. Buy something good to pour for Nangwang while you're at it." Namgung Cheon said it as if it were nothing.
"This is far too much……"
When Mujin hesitated, Namgung Cheon added, "Consider it wages. You worked hard playing the clan's steward of meals."
"Wages? What work did I ever do? All I did was eat you out of house and home."
"Then consider it payment for eating so enthusiastically that you sharpened my own appetite."
Faced with such stubbornness, Mujin finally burst out laughing. "Ha! There's truly no one like you. I'd been losing sleep over drinking money as it was."
He swept up the bank notes with an exaggerated bow and stuffed them deep into his robes, playing the clown to the last. But the corners of his eyes were faintly wet. It wasn't the money that moved him — it was the heart behind it, Namgung Cheon's clumsy, unspoken way of looking after him.
"Thank you. Truly." Mujin's voice went earnest.
"The feeling is mutual." Namgung Cheon replied simply.
From cutting down the Evil Faction of Anhui to the great undertaking of destroying the Ghost Mask Pact — Mujin had been the comrade whose back he could trust, the man he could share a cup with and lay bare what was in his heart.
"Well then. See you around."
"Until next time."
Mujin hefted his bundle onto his back and turned away without a backward glance. His steps were light. As he passed through the gate of his quarters, the falling sunlight caught his silhouette and made it blaze.
Listening to the footsteps fade, Namgung Cheon allowed himself a faint smile.
I wonder how much he'll have changed the next time we meet.
He found himself looking forward to it. And that anticipation became a lash at his own back.
Namgung Cheon shouldered his pack and rose. He cast one last look around the now-empty room — the old, shabby quarters where he had first stayed after leaving the Sword Soul Cave. And yet the time he had spent here had given him so much. A new body. New martial arts. New bonds. All of it had begun in this small room.
Now, on to somewhere wider.
Without hesitation, he stepped out the door. Sunlight poured down, and beyond it stretched an endless, brilliant blue.
The azure sky — Changcheon.
To reach that distant end of the heavens, Namgung Cheon set his feet in motion once more.
Namgung Cheon went straight to the Family Head Hall. Namgung Mugang and Jegal Hwa were waiting there, and neither said a word at the sight of their son's meager traveling clothes. They simply accepted it calmly, as if they had known all along it would be this way.
"I will return."
When Namgung Cheon bowed deeply, Namgung Mugang gave a silent nod, and Jegal Hwa answered with a warm smile.
With his farewell made, Namgung Cheon headed for the West Gate of the clan estate, the agreed meeting point. Of the four gates, it drew the smallest crowds — the main gate would have inevitably kicked up a fuss, which was why he had arranged the details with Namgung Hwi beforehand.
When he reached the West Gate, Namgung Hwi was already there waiting, a sturdy carriage bearing the Namgung crest standing at his side. It was provisioned for a journey of a thousand li.
"There you are." Namgung Hwi greeted him warmly and gestured at the carriage. "Everything's ready. Get in."
But Namgung Cheon didn't so much as glance at it. He walked straight past the carriage and out through the West Gate.
"……?"
Namgung Hwi called after him, bewildered. "Where are you going? The carriage is here."
Namgung Cheon stopped and looked back. "Take the carriage and follow slowly."
"…?"
"I'll go on ahead."
Before Namgung Hwi could even respond — tap! — Namgung Cheon pressed lightly off the ground, and in an instant his figure had shrunk to a black dot and vanished down the road.
"Ha!"
Left standing there, Namgung Hwi let out a helpless laugh. A thousand li, without a carriage — and to just toss off a single line and bolt ahead like that. The boy truly was impossible to read. And yet a smile hung on his lips.
"Fine. Let's see what you've got, then."
He signed to the driver to hold the carriage, tightened the straps of his own pack, and drew up his internal energy. His eyes flashed with fighting spirit.
Whoosh!
Namgung Hwi, too, kicked off the earth and soared into the air. His form pursued Namgung Cheon as gracefully as a crane in flight.
Shuaaak—!
The sound of cleaving wind rang in his ears. He pushed the Floating Cloud Body Movement to its absolute limit, his form skimming along with barely a whisper of friction against the ground, as if strolling across the tops of clouds. The surrounding scenery smeared into hazy afterimages and fell away behind him.
He's fast.
Namgung Hwi marveled inwardly. Even chasing at full power, the gap to his brother far ahead refused to close easily. And the movement art his brother was weaving was unlike anything he knew.
It clearly carries the essence of the Floating Cloud Body Movement.
The foundation — flowing forward smoothly, riding the current — was unmistakably the Namgung clan's Floating Cloud technique. But the variations layered on top of it could hardly be called Floating Cloud at all. Sudden changes of direction; a body that seemed to stop, then exploded off the ground in an instant. These were movements that technique could never produce. Stability and unorthodoxy, softness and ferocity — things that could never coexist, bound together in an uncanny harmony.
Remarkable. But still…
There's no way I lose.
Namgung Hwi's competitive fire blazed. He drew up even more internal energy.
Whoosh!
His form accelerated once more. After perhaps a quarter hour more of running, the distance finally closed.
Rat-tat!
Namgung Hwi drew up alongside Namgung Cheon, and the two of them carved through the forest together.
"You're cruel, you know. Making your elder brother suffer like this." He said it without a single bead of sweat on his face — and just like him, Namgung Cheon's breathing was equally unruffled.
Namgung Cheon kept his eyes forward and asked dryly, "What happened to the carriage?"
"My little brother's out here working hard — how could I ride along in comfort?" Namgung Hwi chuckled. "Besides… when you throw down a challenge like that, an older brother can't very well sit still."
"I never challenged you."
"Don't lie. Your back was talking. It was shouting, 'Catch me if you can.'"
Namgung Hwi's eyes gleamed. "Well, seeing as it's come to this — let's really run. Care to make a wager on who reaches Kaifeng first?"
"Gladly."
Namgung Cheon answered in two short words — and then—
SHWAAK—!
He shot forward like a bolt from a crossbow. A speed on an entirely different plane from before. It was as if black lightning were ripping through the forest.
"Why, you—!"
Namgung Hwi's face went stricken, and he hastily surged his internal energy.
Whoosh!
Without a moment's delay he kicked off the ground and gave chase. Across the forest floor, two streaks of light — one white, one black —