The Postponed Showdown - 3
As a disciple of the Sword Saint, Na Yerin. As the eldest disciple of the orthodox Hongseong Gate, serving the Murim Alliance was the most natural thing in the world.
All the more so for someone of Hongseong Gate, which held that reaching out a hand to the powerless was simply right. Belonging to the Alliance meant access not only to the information needed to save those people, but to reinforcements as well.
Given all that, it would hardly have been strange for Hong Ryeon—who had built her name serving as an enforcer of the Murim Alliance—to be granted the post of Inspector.
And so, on her very first day as Inspector, when she set out to hunt down a demon beast called the Chakchi—a creature with three legs, four bat wings, and the head of a serpent—she met her.
A remarkable woman. Jet-black hair, and eyes of unfathomable depth. Every line of her toned body declared that she was no ordinary martial artist, and dressed in the colors of Moon Lotus Pavilion—a fact that itself announced she was Hongseong Gate's rival—she said with perfect confidence:
"Let's have a match."
It was absurd. Hong Ryeon had more than enough to do for the Murim Alliance; she was already run ragged exploring secret realms and slaying demon beasts. And this woman—Moon Lotus Pavilion or not—wanted to while away the hours with a friendly spar?
Hong Ryeon refused her offer and made for the mountain village tormented by the Chakchi. And there, she saw it: the power wielded by the woman who had instigated that bizarre first encounter. A martial artist who chased the very extreme of speed, hurling blade strikes like bolts of light.
Her competitive spirit did not fail to boil over. Hong Ryeon was a martial artist too, after all, and the desire to cross blades with a strong woman of her own generation was unmistakably there.
And so, after striking down the Chakchi, she leveled her sword at the woman who had come back asking for a rematch.
The eldest disciples of Hongseong Gate and Moon Lotus Pavilion, rivals for as long as anyone could remember, pointing weapons at one another. Perhaps it was a fate that could never be avoided.
The first duel ended in Hong Ryeon's victory. Chae Jin was strong—but she fell just barely short of Hong Ryeon, who had piled up hard-won experience battling countless enemies in the Alliance's service.
In the end, Chae Jin admitted her defeat. But admitting it was not the same as giving up. That passion, that fighting spirit—it nearly coaxed a laugh out of Hong Ryeon. Nearly. She didn't laugh. She couldn't afford to keep accepting sparring challenges on demand.
It was true that facing Chae Jin honed her skills, but every match left her bedridden for days on end—which made Chae Jin, all things considered, a far from enjoyable opponent. She had far too much to do, in any case.
Nor could she simply smash her flat, either. The margin between them was so fine that a true rout would mean absorbing serious damage herself.
And so Hong Ryeon came to dread sparring with her—and the more she dodged, the harder Chae Jin clung.
How long ago had all that begun? Even this very moment proved it. She still needed to find a spiritual elixir for her youngest disciple, and yet here this woman was, dropping by to ask for a match of all things. Remembering how a single bout left her drained enough to need days of rest, she simply couldn't accept. Which was why, even with Chae Jin standing right in front of her, she had avoided the fight. With nothing in it for her, what reason was there to cross blades?
But now.
Now she had a reason to fight.
"Hoooooh..."
Choking down an inexplicable irritation that surged up from her chest, Hong Ryeon raised her greatsword. In the same breath, a deep, blood-red aura bloomed to life, and the instant it settled over the blade, she swung.
"HRAAAAAAH!!"
A roar tore out of her, and with it a colossal tide of sword qi erupted forth. Pouring out blade-light like falling crimson stars, she wrecked the training ground, unleashed her final form—and then sank to the ground.
Under normal circumstances, this much would have been enough to settle her. But her mood refused to loosen, unnaturally so.
"...Tch."
With a brief click of her tongue, Hong Ryeon pushed herself up.
"Senior Sister!!"
Hong Ryeon turned her head. Sprinting toward her was one of Hongseong Gate's junior sisters, who shoved a letter into her hands in a breathless flurry.
"Chae Jin, from Moon Lotus Pavilion, she—"
"...Pfft."
A laugh burst out of her before she could help it. The letter held exactly one line.
Let's meet at the inn.
But that single line was more than enough to set Hong Ryeon's heart pounding—in more ways than one.
Her training, begun at midday, had carried on into the night. The black moon that had first begun its long climb toward the heavens had risen no higher than the level of her eyes.
Yet nothing else had changed. Only the blade. Eyes fixed solely on its movement, she had to unfold the slowest blade form she knew.
Even in the midst of this discipline of slowness, Chae Jin's mind was sketching the past.
She had believed she must win. As the Blade Emperor's daughter and the eldest disciple of the orthodox Moon Lotus Pavilion, she had believed she must defeat Hongseong Gate. She had to show the world what Moon Lotus Pavilion's eldest disciple was made of. She had to prove it. The chain that belief had wound around her body was nothing less than a curse.
And so, the moment she entered the Murim Alliance and met Hong Ryeon, she had made her resolution: I will beat you, and I will prove that Moon Lotus Pavilion stands above Hongseong Gate.
But it was not easy. Unlike her, Hong Ryeon had stacked up years of hard experience. Worse, the senior disciple's very level of martial arts—however slightly—ran ahead of her own; of course beating her was difficult.
And so Chae Jin could not stop. The chain wound around her body hardened, victory by victory and defeat by defeat, into a curse. A curse that swore: I will defeat you, openly and honorably, no matter what it takes. A curse that became: I will defeat you—the one trusted by everyone, in a way I never was.
And so Chae Jin had no choice but to hurl herself at Hong Ryeon blindly.
"Hoooooh..."
Exhaling a low breath, she slowly drew her blade back. Holding it low, moonlight glinting off the silver-white steel, she gazed quietly up at the sky.
The white moon. The moon she had taken upon her shoulders. The moon she must, in the end, surmount.
She remembered the supreme secret of the Moonlight Blade Technique she had once witnessed from the Blade Emperor. Sun, moon, and stars. A blade art powerful enough to cleave the very world itself.
A single flash.
Spellbound by that sight, Chae Jin had entered the Moonlight Blade Technique—and even now, it remained a wall she could not cross.
Right. If even Hong Ryeon hadn't crossed it, how could she?
But that was all right.
Chae Jin calmly raised her blade. Unlike the drowsy forms of her slow cultivation, the blade's motion—unhurried, yet strikingly distinct—carved through the empty air.
And then—
—Shff!!
The rock resting in the backyard slid apart, sheared clean through. The cut was so impossibly clean that no one would have believed she had severed it without releasing so much as a thread of blade qi.
Chae Jin studied the sheared face of the fallen stone and let out a wry little laugh. The her of the past could only ever have gaped at such mastery from afar.
Gently lifting her head, Chae Jin gazed at the room where the light still burned. Thinking of the man working away in there, the corners of her lips curled upward.
And then, at the sticky heat swelling in her chest, her teeth ground together. Chewing at her lip, Chae Jin swung her blade once more. She stared at the rock she had just cut down, and closed her eyes.
The image rose unbidden: that woman, standing at his side.
In that instant, Chae Jin shuddered, seized by a dread so vile it rattled her bones.
More terrifying than the fear of defeat.
More terrifying than the fear of being worthless.
A fear more dreadful than either.
"...Not that. Anything but that."
Yes. She could not allow it. And so—
Chae Jin strangled the trailing thought before it could finish, and drove herself even deeper into her training. By now, her letter would have reached Hongseong Gate.
"...Hong Ryeon."
Murmuring the name, she stole a glance up at the inn's upper floor, and thought: This time, without fail.
The day after Hong Ryeon received that letter.
Thanks to the Plantain Fan and its Azure Cloud Qi humming away in the cellar below, the inn's cooking had grown only more exquisite, and its tables kept filling. Ordinarily, once the lunch rush ended, the worn-out servers and hands would shut the doors and steal a moment's rest—but today was different.
Hong Ryeon, eldest disciple of Hongseong Gate. Chae Jin, eldest disciple of Moon Lotus Pavilion. The two great rivals sat across a single table, staring each other down.
"So you didn't run?"
Hong Ryeon spoke first. Chae Jin met the smirk curling at the corner of her mouth with a shrug.
"This is where I'm meant to be. Why would I?"
The heavy air settled over them once more. Thick, dense, suffocating—the kind of atmosphere that would have curdled a customer's meal halfway down. Even the servers and staff who had come to rest had scattered to the far corners of the building; not one soul remained to bring the two women their tea.
And then, down the stairs came the one man who could still see his work done in air like this.
"You're earlier than I expected. Care for some tea?"
"Ah—yes. Here I am. Hehe. I'd love some."
With a soft, blooming smile, Hong Ryeon showed a docility that suited her not at all. Which was precisely why Chae Jin faltered.
Hong Ryeon... speaking politely? No, hold on. Weren't you talking down to him just the other day? Why the sudden change?
"The Murim Alliance would faint if they saw you now."
"Is it so strange? Considering his age, and how much Hongseong Gate—how much I myself—lean on him? It's about time I changed a little too."
At Hong Ryeon's poorly worn composure, Chae Jin laughed as though the very sight amused her. Then, as Yu Wol finished setting the freshly brewed tea before them, she caught his arm, drew herself close, and whispered at his ear.
"Your form was a little off during training earlier. When you circulate the Chanhu-gi, the flow of your internal energy—"
"Ah, is that so? Much obliged."
"Hehe. It's nothing worth mentioning."
Chae Jin peeled herself slowly away from the man who had taken the whisper in stride, flashing a grin—and Hong Ryeon's fist clenched tight.
Astonishingly, the thoughts of the two women—each certain the other was her sworn rival—matched to the letter.
That thieving cat...?
"I trust you both know why we've gathered here today."
The instant the two traded blade-sharp glares, Yu Wol produced the papers he had prepared and handed one to each of them. Still glaring, they snatched the sheets up—then tilted their heads as they read the neat, careful handwriting.
"...What is this?"
"'Please do not carry the match to excess. Serious injuries are to be avoided...'"
"That's right. Grazes and bruises are one thing, but I hear it's far from rare for someone to be hurt badly mid-match and laid up for a long while after. Frankly speaking, I have no taste for that sort of thing."
"It's a duel. People get crushed and cut open. That's just how it goes."
"A martial artist mustn't flinch from that."
As if lecturing a pair of children, the two spoke as one—but Yu Wol was immovable. He only gazed at them, grave and steady.
"Three reasons. The place you used to duel was the Murim Alliance, yes? The Divine Physician himself resides there, so even a grievous wound was never truly a danger."
"That much is true, but—"
"Second. You are both people who work with me. As the one obliged to stand witness, if even one of you were hurt, I would become a fool who invited his own losses. Would you make a fool of me so?"
"...That's—"
"...No, but—"
"And last. The third reason."
Yu Wol looked them both dead in the eye.
"I do not wish to watch either of you be hurt."
"......"
"....."
Neither Hong Ryeon nor Chae Jin managed a single word. All they could do, in the end, was heave a sigh and press their seals to the pledge. Receiving the paper, stamped now with both their seals, Yu Wol tucked it away with perfect calm.
"When do you mean to hold the match?"
"What is there to drag out? Give me a venue and I'm ready this instant."
"Hong Ryeon. And you?"
"Of course."
Yu Wol nodded to the two women and their ringing bravado.
"Then I have just the place. The training ground at the government office is ours for the next few days. There is a physician on the premises and medicine kept in store, so even if an unavoidable wound should occur, it can be treated at once."
What a staggeringly well-prepared man. When did he even arrange all this? How does anyone...
The two, staring blankly at Yu Wol, abruptly shook themselves. If they were truly dueling today, this was no time to stand adrift. They needed to loosen their bodies, even a little.
"Let us set the match for sundown, then. Until then, prepare yourselves well—I will see you both at the office."
"And here I thought I'd finally get to show you my achievement."
"As I told you before—that achievement of yours. I hope I never have cause to see it."
He had said the same the first time they met. For her to reveal her achievement could only mean she stood in mortal peril, and that was a sight he had no wish to behold.
Hong Ryeon turned those sweet words over in her mind, nodded, and took her leave. As she went, Chae Jin pointed at the pledge.
"Will that paper really do, though? Shouldn't you be fetching the Sword Saint herself?"
"She will, of course, be present. Not because I doubt your word—but so the outcome may be judged with precision. I will stand as witness, but my martial arts are a step below either of yours; I am hardly fit to render the final verdict. For that, I intend to call upon the Sword Saint."
Chae Jin, too, merely nodded, and left without another word.
Left alone in the emptied inn, Yu Wol let out a long, heavy sigh.
In the scenario we had scripted, nothing would have pleased me more than Moon Lotus Pavilion and Hongseong Gate forging an alliance—or at the very least building enough common ground to act in concert. That meant the strength of not one but two Transcendents, the Sword Saint and the Blade Emperor, and beyond them the full weight of two mighty factions.
But I had always assumed that was easier said than done... And yet now, I could see the shape of a possibility.
Steering the friction between Hong Ryeon and Chae Jin—the jealousy, the hunger to win—toward something constructive. Nothing in this world is finer than a rival who becomes your comrade, after all. If the two of them insisted on treating each other as rivals, then perhaps this was the way.
I looked down at the pledge the two had signed. I had expected pushback from both of them, but they had pressed their seals far more meekly than anticipated. The possibility was real.
Of course, as Chae Jin herself had hinted, the paper carried no true power to compel anyone—but would a daughter of the orthodox sects really take back her sworn word?
"Ah."
Lost in thought, I found that the hour to prepare had already arrived. This matter mattered a great deal to me too, so after offering up prayers to Jesus, Buddha, and Allah alike, I set my body and mind in order and made for the government office.
In the barracks behind the office, the two women were already squared off across the training ground, staring each other down. And off in a corner stood the Sword Saint, arms crossed, watching in silence. I gave her a small bow, and she answered it with a shallow nod.
The favor I asked of her... she'll see it through properly, won't she?
"We'll clear the grounds, sir."
"Mm."
I raised a hand to the officer. The onlookers, who had fancied themselves spectators to a clash between two illustrious masters—the Sun-Falling Sword, Hong Ryeon, and the Moonlight Blade, Chae Jin—trailed off sullenly, and the officer bowed and withdrew.
I stepped out to the edge of the training ground and looked from one woman to the other. And I thought: This might be the last chance I get to change what they are to each other. Which meant I could not, under any circumstances, fail.
Perhaps it was that pressure; without quite noticing, my face had set like stone. But there was no room to mind it now. The only thing that mattered was that this duel end with no one lying broken on the ground.
And so I watched them with all the gravity I could gather.
Both of them were waiting on my signal. Both of them. Perhaps even the Sword Saint. And naturally, I as well. All four of us standing on this training ground could see what was coming.
Into that coiled tension, I cast my words as solemnly as I could, like tossing a stone into still water. Please—keep your promise to me.
In the same heartbeat, the two women collided—without even a roar.