A Hero's Reason (8)
Even without turning his head or saying a word, something deep in his chest stirred with an inexplicable tremor.
He didn’t need to hear the name to know exactly which younger brother his words referred to.
“That child… is so outstanding that a brother like me feels ashamed of himself.”
Seomun Jin-gang’s voice remained calm, yet it carried an unshakable pride and profound affection.
“People have taken to calling my younger brother the Divine Condor Hero. Not long ago, he even earned a place at the Dragon Phoenix Assembly.”
Seomun Hwan offered no reply.
Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed slightly.
Seomun Jin-gang continued, speaking slowly.
“No matter what I do from now on, it will all reflect on that child in the end. If I ever make even one wrong choice, the shadow of it will fall across my brother as well. That’s why every action I take, every decision I make… must always be honest. It must always be right.”
Seomun Jin-gang’s footsteps were heavy, yet utterly firm.
It was as if he carried the full weight of that resolution on his shoulders.
“Even if I’m foolish, weak, and stupid, I must live that way. Without fail.”
Seomun Hwan drew in a slow, deep breath.
A corner of his chest burned hot.
The frustration he couldn’t quite understand, the emotion that coiled inside him without bursting free— even he couldn’t clearly identify what it was.
At last he spoke.
His voice came out colder and harder than even he expected.
“Powerless justice is nothing but incompetence.”
Seomun Jin-gang’s steps faltered for the briefest moment before resuming.
He slowly lifted his head and gazed up at the dark cave ceiling, as though searching for distant, unreachable starlight.
“Hehe! The great hero speaks the truth. However…”
Seomun Jin-gang’s tone was gentle, yet it resonated with deep conviction.
“…does that mean those who possess overwhelming power always meet good endings?”
For an instant, Seomun Hwan’s heart beat with icy clarity.
His brother’s calm voice pierced straight into his chest like the tip of a razor-sharp blade.
“The Hegemon-King Xiang Yu was one. So were the Heavenly Demon and the Phantom Demon, who vied for supremacy throughout the ages. The ends of all those absolute masters who tried to rule the murim through sheer force were always tragic.”
Seomun Hwan slowly closed his eyes behind the mask.
The greatest under heaven.
Even he, who had boasted unmatched strength in the history of the murim, had ultimately fallen to the sword of betrayal.
He understood better than anyone that a moment of power, an instant of supremacy, could rule the world but could never embrace it.
Seomun Jin-gang continued quietly.
“Great power can crumble at any time. But the name of righteousness and chivalry… will never fall.”
Seomun Hwan’s eyelids trembled.
That simple yet heavy sentence reverberated through the deepest part of his heart.
“Heroes are not forgotten even when eras change. Justice and chivalry are not mere virtues—they are symbols that move the hearts of people.”
Seomun Jin-gang’s gaze briefly turned toward the masked Seomun Hwan before returning to the path ahead. It remained resolute and serene.
“Though the power I possess may be lacking and utterly insignificant…”
Seomun Jin-gang smiled faintly.
The smile was self-deprecating, yet it held a firm belief that even he himself had not fully realized.
“Every choice I make in the name of righteousness and chivalry will one day surely become the strongest sword and the most reliable shield for my younger brother.”
Seomun Hwan’s heart suddenly burned hot.
It felt as if a wall of steel had cracked wide open, sending deep fissures through his once-impenetrable heart.
His brother’s words were nonsense—outdated, flowery rhetoric.
Yet at the same time, he knew the power those words carried better than anyone.
In his previous life, he had ruled the murim with nothing but overwhelming strength.
Its end had been catastrophic.
But Taeheo Singeom had remained in the murim as a symbol not of power, but of sacrifice and righteousness.
Even now, the people of the world remembered him. They revered him.
Seomun Hwan said nothing.
He simply watched his brother’s back in silence.
When had his brother’s back grown so broad?
The eldest brother he had always thought of as small and frail now felt larger than anyone else in the world.
Seomun Hwan silently swallowed the nameless emotion rising from the depths of his chest.
Then he began walking again.
The shadows of the two men stretched long across the cold, dark walls of the cave.
Those shadows were quiet, yet they never wavered. They carried the deep imprint of each other’s presence as they slowly—very slowly—made their way outside.
When they finally emerged from the cave, the sky had already begun to lighten with the pale hues of dawn.
After wandering so long in thick darkness, the sunrise arrived like a blessing.
Seomun Hwan and Seomun Jin-gang, along with the injured Hwangbo Gi-mun and Paeng Do-yoon they carried on their backs, staggered out through broken rocks and clouds of dust.
Standing at the cave entrance, the cold air stabbed into their lungs.
Yet Seomun Jin-gang did not stop.
The moment he caught his breath, he shouted vigorously toward the merchants.
“Everyone, move! Unpack the herb bundles! Treat the wounded first!”
He meant to save those who had fallen into the trap and suffered injuries.
The guards were exhausted as well, but not one of them complained.
They simply panted for breath and brought out the medicinal herbs and emergency supplies—goods that had once been cargo—without hesitation.
Seomun Hwan watched the scene in silence.
The words his brother had spoken inside the cave refused to leave his mind.
Perhaps my belief that powerless justice is ultimately powerless… was too bleak after all.
Seomun Hwan let out a light breath.
Without a word, he knelt down, picked up one of the herb boxes, and opened it.
His hands moved with swift precision.
He assessed the depth of each wound at a glance and selected the appropriate herbs.
At first glance his touch seemed indifferent, but every motion was backed by meticulous calculation.
In his past life as the Phantom Demon, Seomun Hwan had been a man of countless talents who knew no limits.
He had been the strongest martial artist in the world—and at the same time, its greatest physician.
That was why, in this moment, his hands could save lives with more skill than anyone else present.
Seomun Hwan even took command of the merchants.
“This one is bleeding heavily. Crush the hemostatic herbs with bear gall and seal the wound.”
“This is a fracture. Grind the self-heal and angelica root into powder and wrap it around the splint.”
His voice rang out short and clear.
The merchants, who had been bewildered at first, soon began moving according to his instructions.
They crushed herbs where he pointed and set broken bones.
The staggering guards, the dying Hwangbo Gi-mun, and Paeng Do-yoon all began breathing more evenly, one by one.
Especially Hwangbo Gi-mun, who had been closest to death, miraculously began regaining color in his face.
“The pulse has returned!”
No Gye-baek muttered in disbelief.
Paeng Do-yoon, who had been hovering on the brink, finally stabilized as well.
Breath returned. A faint trace of vitality began to bloom on his once bloodless face.
Their faces were caked with dirt, their clothes torn to shreds.
Yet the merchants supported one another and ran about with herbs in hand.
A faint but unmistakable warmth of life slowly settled over the scene, riding on the dawn breeze.
At the center of it all stood Seomun Hwan, silently bringing people back from the edge.
Seomun Jin-gang watched him quietly.
Gratitude and awe too deep for words welled up inside his chest.
He approached carefully and bowed deeply at the waist.
“…Truly, I cannot thank you enough, Cheolmeongaek Daehyeop.”
His voice was low, yet filled with sincerity greater than any thanks he had ever offered before.
Seomun Hwan paused his hands for a moment and looked at him.
Instead of showing embarrassment, he answered bluntly.
“Enough with the thanks. Just bring me more medicine.”
His words were gruff, but his hands never stopped moving.
If anything, they grew gentler and more careful.
In that moment, Seomun Hwan realized something.
The fact that he was quietly, wordlessly saving lives like this… did not displease him in the slightest.
There were things that could not be protected by the sword alone.
Continuing a life. Returning breath. Helping someone stand once more.
All of it continued on as the morning sun rose anew.
A few days later.
When rumors spread that the Phantom Demon’s secret vault had been discovered, the entire gangho was thrown into chaos.
Amid that turmoil, someone had still managed to escape the cave with a secret manual in hand.
The Phantom Demon’s manual was a treasure beyond price in the murim.
A war to seize it naturally erupted.
Trust shattered.
Brothers turned blades against one another.
Disciples turned their backs on their masters.
Even blood ties offered no protection.
It was a chaotic era where rivers ran red with blood and blades carved through the gangho.
Yet even within that madness, the Seomun Clan shone brighter than ever.
It was not simply because of Seomun Hwan—the Divine Condor Hero.
It was because of Seomun Jin-gang.
The eldest son of the Seomun Clan, a man no one had paid attention to before.
It was thanks to his sincere sense of justice and his good deeds.
Hwangbo Gi-mun and Paeng Do-yoon, who had survived, came to the Seomun Clan in person despite their grievous wounds.
Kneeling with bandaged hands pressed to the ground, they spoke in voices thick with emotion.
“We will never forget the grace shown by the Seomun Clan.”
And it did not end with mere words.
The great families that controlled the major trade routes through Hebei—the Hwangbo Clan and the Paeng Clan—formally promised to ally with the Seomun Clan.
From now on, all trade passing through Hebei would have to go through the Seomun Merchant Group.
It was neither coincidence nor the result of a small favor.
In this rapidly shifting era of the gangho, the Seomun Clan had built unshakable trust and honor even amid the flames.
With Seomun Hwan’s success at the Dragon Phoenix Assembly added to Seomun Jin-gang’s growing fame, the name of the Seomun Merchant Group spread across the entire murim as if given wings.
Requests poured in endlessly from every direction.
Gifts and proposals flooded the clan from those who wished to help the family or form connections.
Letters came from prestigious clans, and even smaller merchant groups and guard organizations lined up to build ties.
Naturally, marriage proposals for Seomun Hwan arrived like a bursting dam.
“I hear the daughter of the Yeonri Clan is an absolute beauty.”
“The Daeho Clan even sent a personal letter!”
With such news arriving daily, the Seomun Clan residence grew rowdy with an unexpected storm of marriage talks.
Yet Seomun Hwan himself ignored all the commotion as if it were nothing but a nuisance and strolled through the garden.
Beneath the rustling tree branches, he walked the Seomun residence garden with lazy steps.
Then he noticed Seomun Jin-gang standing near the corridor, holding a letter with a troubled expression.
Seomun Hwan raised an eyebrow slightly and approached.
“Hyung. Why do you look like that?”
Seomun Jin-gang held out the letter.
“A bandit who stopped by earlier gave me this.”
Thank you for saving me. I hope the day comes when I can repay this grace.
— Fierce… Demon?!