Which of You Is It?
Muhwa, the Law Enforcement Hall Master, was thoroughly flustered.
The gaze fixed on her without so much as a greeting burned with a startling intensity — and then there was that peculiar smile hooked at the corner of his lips, a look that seemed at once delighted and astonished.
So this is the madman they talked about.
She kept the thought to herself, of course. There was no hostility in those eyes. Nothing dangerous, either. It was the innocent look of a child staring at something wondrous, and perhaps that was why Muhwa felt a little embarrassed.
"Um... Young Hero?"
"Ah, a pleasure. You may call me Teacher Sun. To think the Namgung Clan I've so long admired would welcome me with open arms — I was so overjoyed I briefly lost my words."
"I see."
"As fortune would have it, I was able to capture Sa Hyeol-cheol-gwi — the sworn enemy of the Namgung — with my own hands. I hope this serves as a fitting gift."
"The Clan Lord will surely be delighted. Though I imagine he'll be a touch disappointed he couldn't catch the man himself."
"But why is it so quiet in here?"
"Everyone went out at the news of Sa Hyeol-cheol-gwi's appearance. We sent up a signal that he'd been captured, but if they still haven't come back, they're probably out somewhere drinking themselves stupid, celebrating."
Those idiots, I swear.
From Muhwa's mutter, Sun Wukong pieced together the atmosphere well enough. There was none of the rigid discipline or suffocating solemnity one expected of a great clan. The place felt relatively free.
As he looked around the estate, he also studied Muhwa with care.
A thread of fate, pure white, stretched between them. The bond shone so brightly it was almost dazzling — every bit as radiant as the one connecting him to Ojeong.
If the brightness of a thread revealed how deeply two fates were entangled...
That means she's bound to me by a connection as great as Ojeong's.
And if it was a connection as important as Ojeong's... Naturally, Guanyin's words kept circling through Sun Wukong's mind.
The Namgung Clan Estate of Anhui Province — the last place Tang Sanzang's soul left its traces.
Muhwa, whom he had met here at the Namgung Clan. The pure white thread of fate stretching between them.
Could it be?
...Well, gender could change upon reincarnation. What mattered was the soul.
It's only a possibility, of course.
He hadn't recognized Ojeong's identity right away, either. It had taken conversations and shared calamities to wear down the wariness in Ojeong's heart. Only when Ojeong finally unleashed his true nature against Namgung Jeok in the river had Sun Wukong been certain enough to call out his name.
Come to think of it — his dharma name is Ojeong in this life, too?
A name originally carried destiny within it. And this was a dharma name given by none other than Guanyin herself.
...Wait a second. Then he could have just asked Ojeong his name from the start?
The thought struck him so suddenly that Sun Wukong went limp with disbelief.
"Might I ask your name?"
Perhaps the question came out of nowhere. Muhwa's eyes widened for a moment.
"It's Muhwa."
"..."
Sun Wukong's expression turned peculiar.
Muhwa.
Hmm.
No matter how he turned it over, there was no connection to the name — not to Tang Sanzang's true name, nor to any of his aliases.
And besides. A fiercely burning fire. What a curious name.
Muhwa seemed to take his reaction differently, and added a few words.
"Is it strange that I don't have the Namgung surname?"
"..."
No, that wasn't what he'd been thinking at all.
Muhwa smiled faintly.
"When I was young, during the Orthodox-Unorthodox War, the Namgung Clan saved me. Maybe they took pity on an orphan weeping over her dead parents. The Clan Lord is a far more tender-hearted man than he appears — he took me in and raised me. I never inherited the Namgung name, but I grew up as a full member of the clan, and I even came to hold an important post."
"The Clan Lord sounds like a good man."
"He's not a bad one, at least."
Muhwa stopped walking as she said this.
"Once the Clan Lord returns, I'll arrange a meeting shortly. Please rest for a while."
"Is that person from earlier your type, Great Hero?"
"What are you talking about?"
Sun Wukong, who had just entered the room, narrowed his eyes at Ojeong's remark, which had come from nowhere.
"The Law Enforcement Hall Master. She's rather young for the post, isn't she?"
"And?"
"Well, you were staring at her face with a smile that anyone could see was strange, and then you started asking her this and that with an uncharacteristic gentleness. Look — a man who fidgets around like a dog that needs to take a dump isn't exactly going to be popular."
...That was vaguely irritating.
Of all people, he had to hear that from this guy.
Sun Wukong was speechless. The bizarre misunderstanding was one thing, but Ojeong holding forth as if he were some authority on women was quietly getting on his nerves.
"Did I not tell you I came here looking for someone?"
"Huh? So you came looking for the Law Enforcement Hall Master?"
"Who knows."
He still couldn't say. He hadn't felt even the faintest trace of Tang Sanzang from her.
The walls have to come down first, the way they did with Ojeong.
And that did not look like it would be easy.
What a pain. Honestly.
As his thoughts grew tangled, Sun Wukong was suddenly seized by the desire to be left alone. He looked at Ojeong, who had followed him into the room.
"Aren't you tired? Go rest."
"Ahem. Actually, I came to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?"
"Yes. Now that we've arrived at the Namgung Clan, I should take Semo and head back to Mount Hayeon."
Sun Wukong folded his arms and regarded him.
"Hmm."
Ojeong stole a cautious glance at his face.
"Guiding you as far as the Namgung Clan was my job, after all."
"Right. It was."
"Uh?"
It was Ojeong, contrary to all expectation, who was thrown off by how readily Sun Wukong nodded along.
"Well, then let's have a drink before you go."
Ojeong had not been exaggerating.
"You're a lightweight, huh."
"Heh. I told you. I get drunk off the smell alone."
"Yeah, but I didn't think two cups would turn your face red and make you slur."
Sun Wukong let out a dry laugh. Then again, in his previous life, unlike Bajie, Ojeong had never been much of a drinker.
"Ah — and thank you. For treating Semo."
"It was nothing."
"His shoulder was completely shattered. How did you even fix that? Most physicians would throw up their hands."
"Spend enough time traveling with a crybaby who'd bawl his eyes out over a single scratch, and you pick up a thing or two about medicine."
"A crybaby?"
"Tang Sanzang."
"Ah... right. But how did you know I fight well in the water?"
"I can just see it."
"What, like that old saying — seeing a thousand li from where you sit?"
"I see a person's essence."
"Heh. We're about to part ways — you could stand to tell me a little more. As for me, I was born and raised in a fishing village."
He was well and truly drunk. Ojeong began pouring out a past that nobody had asked for.
"I had an unusual affinity with water from the time I was small. I could dive better than anyone, stay under longer than anyone, and read the currents better than fishermen with decades on the water. After a while, people started saying I was the reincarnation of Youyao, or some such."
"Youyao?"
"There was a legend in my hometown. Youyao was an imugi demon that never became a dragon — instead it mediated between the people on land and the Dragon King of the sea, helping the fishermen haul in their catch. And they said I was that Youyao."
"That's a curious story."
Sun Wukong gave a short laugh. Ojeong chuckled too, the sound slightly mashed by his thickening tongue.
"Then one day I happened to meet an extraordinary person, and I learned a martial art from him. Water Transformation Qi, it's called. Martial arts, you know — you circulate inner energy through the breath, and that's how you generate greater power. But breathing isn't exactly easy underwater, is it?"
"It isn't."
Namgung Jeok and Namgung Seon struggling so badly against Ojeong was proof enough of that.
"But this art doesn't require breathing at all."
"And so?"
"Heh. That's a secret. Anyway — because of it, I can circulate inner energy freely even underwater, and I have no trouble using martial arts down there. And then, well, you know how it goes for anyone who learns martial arts. The village was burned to the ground by water bandits. One thing led to another and I became a water bandit myself, made something of a name, got swept up in the Orthodox-Unorthodox War, and somehow washed up at Shaolin. That's how I've lived."
Ojeong stopped there and gave him a pointed look.
"That's my story. So, Great Hero — where's your hometown?"
"Flower-Fruit Mountain."
"...Come on. Would it kill you to tell me something real when we're about to part ways?"
"I've never told a lie in my life."
At that answer, Ojeong seemed to deflate. He shook his head and stood, swaying. So the man really had no intention of sharing anything that mattered. He offered a wobbly cupped-fist salute.
"Then I'll be going. I'll take Semo and leave at first light. This is the last goodbye."
"Alright."
"...You're really letting me go?"
"Sure. Take care of yourself. I'd prefer you stay alive."
"What?"
The ominous tone sobered Ojeong in an instant. His eyes went wide.
"Sa Hyeol-cheol-gwi is dead. The ones above him are going to want to know who killed him. They'll come for me — but they can't touch the Namgung Clan, not yet. So who do you think they'll go after instead? Someone who was at my side, maybe..."
"..."
Ojeong said nothing. Time stretched. At last he let out a long, heavy sigh.
"...I'll see you tomorrow. Let's have breakfast together."
"Sure."
Looking as though he'd bitten into a persimmon that wasn't ripe, Ojeong walked out of the room.
Sun Wukong snickered to himself and poured another cup, drinking alone.
Not long after, a voice sounded from beyond the door.
"Great Hero. The Clan Lord requests your presence."
Sun Wukong rose at once. If he was going to find Tang Sanzang, he would need to remain at the Namgung Clan for some time. That meant becoming a guest of the house.
He set out with a reasonably serious expression.
Traces of the old Orthodox-Unorthodox War lingered everywhere — crumbled stretches of wall, garden boulders still scored with sword marks. And yet the power that hung over the entire household was heavy and grave. What's more, he could feel presence after presence stirring around him.
Quite a few warriors.
They moved with a stealth so complete it could have been some yaoguai art. Sun Wukong could feel, in some small measure, the prestige of the Namgung Clan that Ojeong had described to him.
Before long he arrived at the great hall where the Clan Lord awaited. As though they had been expecting him, the door guards opened the gates the moment he appeared.
"Come in, come in. Teacher Sun, was it?"
A middle-aged man with a hearty, open face rose to his feet. Retainers and elders sat along both sides of the hall, and every one of them turned a look of no small weight upon Sun Wukong. Muhwa, whom he had met earlier, was among them.
The man offered a cupped-fist salute, his expression still bright and unreserved.
"I am Namgung Jinbaek, Lord of the Namgung Clan."
"..."
Sun Wukong did not answer.
It was not that he felt cowed by the elders' collective gaze. And yet, in that moment, he was under a pressure of an entirely different kind.
"Teacher Sun?"
"Ah. Well met."
Sun Wukong returned the greeting a beat too late. Muhwa, who had been watching, and Namgung Jeok, who had guided him to the estate, both tilted their heads. Unlike the man they had seen before, Sun Wukong was clearly flustered.
Then understanding dawned.
Well — he is standing before the Lord of the Namgung Clan, after all.
Even the most renowned figures in the martial world would tense up. It was only natural.
But Sun Wukong was not intimidated by Namgung Jinbaek.
What truly threw him into confusion was something else entirely.
Why?
The corner of Sun Wukong's eye trembled.
He could see it. A thread, pure white, stretching toward him.
"I'd love to introduce my son and my niece as well, but unfortunately they're away from the estate. A pity. For now, please sit, and let's talk."
Namgung Jinbaek laughed heartily. The distance between them was perhaps two zhang — twenty feet of empty floor. And across that distance, Sun Wukong saw the thread that bound them: white, dazzling, brilliant, drawing the two of them together as if it had always been there.
The last traces of Tang Sanzang's soul are here.
Namgung Jinbaek, Lord of the Namgung Clan. And Muhwa, the Law Enforcement Hall Master.
Two of them.
Sun Wukong knew it in his bones.
Tang Sanzang.