There Are Many Hills Yet to Cross - 2
"...Kghk!!"
Something had gone wrong. Go Yu-mi had certainly applied the poison correctly—hadn't she? Betrayal, from her? No. She was a woman who followed the Iron Blood's will to the letter. Which meant only one possibility remained.
"Call the men. Now!!"
Somewhere along the line, the operation had leaked.
At his bellow, one of his subordinates hastily fished a signal flare from his robe and fired it. Red light burst and bloomed across the sky. If the watchers had seen it, the men lying in wait would be moving any moment now.
But nothing changed.
The ones who were supposed to come, never came.
The Iron Blood Water Emperor ground his teeth with a dry crack and shook his head. "Aah. Fine, then. Let's see you face me for real!!"
His hands blurred into motion. The instant he hammered his own blood channels open, a vast torrent of power came boiling up from within—he had flung wide the Iron Blood's Will to swell his strength.
At that enormous aura, Hong Ryeon bared her teeth and started to lunge—but the Sword Saint only turned her wrist in a light, lazy arc.
Shff!!
"Kghk!!"
Blood burst from his ballooning chest. But a wound of this degree was nothing at all. If anything, the Iron Blood Water Emperor burned his killing intent hotter still—and the Sword Saint regarded him with eyes fathomlessly deep, and spoke.
"You are wrong."
Shff!!
"Kghk!!"
His left ear dropped away with a soft flap. Blood welled up in thick pulses, and the Iron Blood Water Emperor clenched his jaw against it. What shot out of him in the same breath was a keen azure edge of energy—a blade of fist-energy loosed from his outstretched hand. The Sword Saint swept her sword once, batted it aside, and sent it crashing into one of his own men instead. Then she stepped forward, one unhurried pace.
"What you ought to be saying is—"
The sword of water slid free. Black as lacquer, the water spread outward in a tide, and every demonic beast it had swallowed until now rose again as creatures of the water, hurling themselves at the Sword Saint.
But—
FWHOOOOM!!
One small white hand swept through the air, and the vicious demonic creatures were torn apart before they could so much as twitch. Necks wrung sideways. Jaws hammered, bodies launched into empty air to come crashing down and shatter. Heads erased outright by the flick of a long, slender leg.
Even the fist-energy sniping at her through the gaps, she turned away with a single idle swirl of the blade.
Faced with a feat no one could mistake for mortal might, the Iron Blood Water Emperor thought: the only way to take down a tiger is to bait it with its cub.
And he himself was—
"Damn it all..."
The moment the Sword Saint's strength, greater than anything he had imagined, warped his face out of shape, her frost-cold voice slid into his ear.
"—nothing more than begging me to kill you without pain."
All he had done was enrage the tiger.
If a chance to strike back opened up, you did not let it slip away. But even so, what mattered most were her sisters.
So Hong Ryeon hammered her greatsword into a lunging black-robe, carved out an opening, and looked to her sisters through the gap. She could see Yu Hui driven back by an enemy blade, her stance teetering. Dangerous.
The instant she read it and drew back to throw her greatsword, the black-robe stalking Yu Hui was knocked flying by some formless force, robbed of his moment to strike. Riding that opening, Yu Hui reset her stance and pressed on, calm and measured.
It was the Sword Saint.
Felling the water-demons the Iron Blood Water Emperor conjured, bearing down on him all the while—and yet, somehow, still reading the whole flow of the battle, lending her strength wherever it was needed. Hong Ryeon had watched it happen more times than she could count; Yu Hui was hardly the only sister she had saved.
Even in a battle with Hongseong Gate itself under assault, the Sword Saint was still laboring for her disciples' growth.
Then what was there to fear? If a battle on this scale could make her sisters grow, then she, the eldest disciple, had to be the one to lead them through it.
"Hongseong Sword Formation!!"
At her cry, the disciples struck their opponents with everything they had, shoved them back, and sprang clear. With Hong Ryeon at the point, the disciples of Hongseong Gate locked into ranks and charged.
Of course the enemy rushed to answer in kind, unfolding sword formations of their own—but the Hongseong Divine Art bore the nature of a star that unmade all things, and holding it back with sword formations alone was no simple feat.
And then—
"URAAAGH!!"
At some point, a formation laid across Hongseong Gate had begun pouring itself into the Hongseong Sword Formation. Perhaps that was why. Under pressure like a meteor in free fall, the black-robes' formations buckled and caved in.
KRRRUNCH!!
Hong Ryeon's greatsword smashed through the heart of the enemy's formation—and in the same breath she stabbed for the seams of the wreckage.
"Ryu Hyeon!!"
"Half-Sword Stance!!"
At Hong Ryeon's single barked command, Ryu Hyeon peeled away from the formation she was leading. Sword qi and fist-energy bloomed from the disciples at her back, and every enemy caught in the wash went down spitting blood.
And so the Iron Blood Water Emperor could do nothing but watch, teeth ground to powder, as his loyal subordinates were cut down one after another.
Damn it all. Where had it gone wrong? The plan had been flawless. Why weren't those bastards coming? Had that bitch Go Yu-mi truly turned on him? Possibilities tore through the Iron Blood Water Emperor's skull one after another, and not a single one of them made sense.
Shff!!
"How arrogant. You would let your mind wander in my presence?"
Even as he beat aside a water beast, the greatsword swinging in sheared off his other ear. A flap of flesh drifting down. Blood streaming down his jaw. The Iron Blood Water Emperor ground his teeth and hurled himself at the Sword Saint, hunting her head with lightning-fast strikes.
She gave her body the barest twist. And the price of a strike that missed by the breadth of a single sheet of paper, slicing nothing but empty air—
FWHAAAAM!!
—was a blow square to the abdomen.
He staggered, agony wringing his guts into knots, and the Sword Saint smiled a cold, serene smile. A beautiful smile. But what lived behind it was nothing less than a god of calamity.
She swung the sword again, calm as could be, and that alone was enough to send the Iron Blood Water Emperor's arm dropping to the ground.
"GRAAAAAAGH!!"
A scream steeped in agony and despair. And even so, the Sword Saint did not stop.
"Now, then. Speak. Beg me to end it without pain."
A fist like a falling star hammered into his chest. Even rolling across the ground, the Iron Blood Water Emperor's bilious grin refused to die.
"Hrk! Truly... hrk! How well it suits you. Yes—destruction like this is all you were ever good for. Kheh... khehehek...!"
BAAAM!!
Her outstretched leg caught him full in the face. Nose pulped, several teeth snapped off—the blow wrung blood out of him and put him back on the ground, and still all he wore was that sneer.
But only one thing remained in his head: get out of here, and fast. And for that, he had to shake the Sword Saint. Both of them—the Iron Blood Water Emperor and the Sword Saint alike—knew exactly how that was done.
No—already, the mere desecration of Hongseong Gate had her seething. Then what if he shook her just a little harder, right here, right now? He might just tear open a gap to escape through.
"Heh. Heheheh... heheh..."
A poisonous smile curled up at the corner of the Iron Blood Water Emperor's mouth. One look at it, and the Sword Saint knew exactly what he meant to say.
Her reverse scale. The most painful wound of her past. She could not let him speak it. The audacity. The sheer audacity—
It was in that instant, her sword already rising to carve out his tongue, that a beautiful woman entered the Sword Saint's sight.
Hong Ryeon.
Her first disciple. The first child who had begged to be taken in even knowing that the Sword Saint had cut down her own daesajeo—a woman like a true elder sister to her—with these very hands, and that mastering the Hongseong Divine Art would demand she abandon so much else besides.
After that child, her gaze moved on. Ryu Hyeon, her second—diligent always, forever toiling to hold up a master who never felt like enough. Jingo, who trained in silence and would one day come to understand the worth of slowness. Another child. And another.
And last of all, the child who had taken her hand and come to Hongseong Gate: her youngest, Sa Yun, who had stared at the world with dying eyes the day they first met, and who now knew happiness and walked the will of Hongseong.
Every one of them precious disciples, following the will of Hongseong with all their hearts.
Only after sweeping her gaze across them all did the Sword Saint look back at the man before her. An arm severed; blood fountaining from a dozen places on his face. Both ears gone, his body laced with cuts and mottled with bruises, as though she had been toying with him all this while.
She could have killed him outright. Instead she had let him live, tormenting him with her own two hands as if he were a plaything.
The Sword Saint squeezed her eyes shut. The martial art she was meant to wield in protection had been swept away by her own fury.
"Hooooooh..."
I still have such a long way to go.
She stilled her heart, spared one glance at the Iron Blood Water Emperor's face—now twisted as though he'd chewed on dung—and flung her greatsword into the sky. One light step was all it took; she rose into the open air and looked out over Hongseong Gate.
Her proud disciples, battling the invaders. Every one of them fighting with level heads, untainted by rage, exactly as Hongseong's teachings demanded. And yet their master—the one who bore the title of Sect Leader of the renowned orthodox sect of Hongseong Gate—had let herself be carried off by nothing but fury...
The Sword Saint shook her head. As I thought—I am unfit to be Sect Leader.
Just as she had trembled to speak the words when she stood to be tested in Hongseong Gate's secret realm—afraid the realm would refuse to acknowledge her, that it would whisper, you are no Sect Leader, and deny her very self—
she was still wrestling with that doubt even now.
But doubt had never once made her forget what had to be done. Power poured into the drawn-back blade, and what filled it was the strength of the star that destroys—the power of the star that unmakes every last thing in this world.
Slowly she lifted it, and leveled her greatsword at the invaders of Hongseong Gate.
"Ah."
A low sigh of awe broke from the Iron Blood Water Emperor.
High above hung the sun, spewing white heat. But beside it, a second sun had taken its place. No—a new star had taken its place. White radiance gathering along the Sword Saint's greatsword. And at the absurd moment that white light devoured the sky, he thought: night has fallen.
In a darkness that blotted out even the sun, one single star remained alight. When the star he'd dismissed as a mote of dust finally showed its complete form, a laugh escaped him before he knew it. And when countless more stars came shimmering out of the dark as if drawn to that light, the laughter only swelled. There it was—the one thing every martial artist under heaven was chasing at the end of the road.
Stars without number, falling on him. Falling on his men. Starlight turned to force, pouring down like a rain of meteors. Face to face with the Astral Energy—Ganggi—that marked a true Transcendent, the Iron Blood Water Emperor murmured, briefly:
Final Technique of the Great Sword Form — Hongseong Divine Art
A new star swallows the sky, and beneath its light countless blades of starfall descend upon all who stand below.
"Well, goddammit."
Those were the last words the Iron Blood Water Emperor ever left behind.
The effect of Meteor Rain, the final technique of the Hongseong Divine Art's Great Sword Form, was staggering. A single unfolding of it annihilated not only the Iron Blood Water Emperor but every last invader besides.
And yet the Sword Saint was not in fine fettle either. Not that the technique had drained her—one technique, even one wielding Astral Energy, was hardly enough to leave her spent. It was simply that her expression had turned so very, very gloomy.
Hong Ryeon, who had been watching her for a long moment, gathered herself quickly. She knew better than anyone that when times like these came, she was the one who had to move.
"Ryu Hyeon. Any of the girls hurt?"
"Mm... none of them are badly hurt. More than that, it looks like a few came out of this battle with insights of their own. As for the damage—"
Ryu Hyeon looked toward where the enemy had broken in. The wall blown to rubble, buildings cratered and punched full of holes by the battle and the Meteor Rain's aftermath—a sigh escaped her before she could stop it. And just when are we supposed to fix all of that?
But even so. They had protected what mattered most. Her sisters. Hongseong Gate itself. That was enough. Ryu Hyeon decided that, just for today, she would refuse to brood.
"—None worth the name. All in all, a sweeping victory. Considering the caliber of the enemy."
"Good. I'm glad."
Hong Ryeon huffed a small laugh. The enemy had been strong; had the fight dragged on even a little longer, some of the disciples might well have bled for it. But the Sword Saint had ended it at precisely the right moment. She had sealed off the raiders' leader, the Iron Blood Water Emperor, along with every water-demon he spawned, without a single failure. She had pulled disciples back from the brink each time danger found them, and kept them from harm besides.
No—was that all? She had deliberately held back wherever the danger wasn't truly dire, turning even this ambush into a chance for training. That, too, deserved high marks.
In other words, the Sword Saint had done everything, and more, that this battle asked of her.
And still her face said none of it. She looked ready to weep on the spot. Hong Ryeon let out a long, low breath at the sight of her.
It happened, now and then. The nights the Sword Saint woke from nightmares. And today—her master's birthday, and for Hong Ryeon the day of remembrance for her grandmaster and the Four Hundred Elders. The Sword Saint wore the same gloom she wore on those days.
So even with a great victory behind them, Hong Ryeon could not quite swallow the bitterness.
"Master."
"...Mm?"
What was she supposed to say? After a moment's thought, she shrugged.
"Shall I buy you some Dang-gwa next time? The moment the Fasting Pill trial period ends, I mean..."
At her disciple's words, the Sword Saint's eyes went wide and round. Not for the sweets themselves—no, it was the heart behind them, the sight of a disciple thinking of her, that charmed her so.
Well then. She had no choice but to play along, did she.
"...That thing the innkeeper of Yu Inn brought by last time?"
"Yes. That."
"...Mm."
The Sword Saint broke into a soft, sheepish smile, and only then did Hong Ryeon finally let herself relax and burst out laughing.