Descending the Mountain

Special-grade closed-door training grounds of the Luoyang Sword Family.

The Guard Pavilion Master.

Elder sister to the Grand Patriarch, aunt to Yeon So-hyeon—and master to the Second Young Mistress, Yeon Seo-rin. A deep shadow hung over her eyes.

The First Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon, had returned in full force as the rightful First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family. The upheaval sweeping through the clan had reached even this place, isolated as it was—the closed-door training grounds.

"…Any word from the blood relatives?"

Her subordinates, the officers of the Guard Pavilion, shook their heads.

"Among the blood relatives our agents were charged with protecting… many of them, overnight…"

The officers could not find the right words. The Guard Pavilion Master finished for them.

"Taken?"

Cold sweat beaded on their brows.

"We tried everything to stop the forced removals, for the sake of our charges' safety…!"

"But the other side produced warrants from the Supreme Operations Committee. There was nothing we could…!"

Safeguarding the principal Yeon blood relatives was the Guard Pavilion's duty. That was why the officers were sweating so freely.

"I am not here to reprimand you."

She exhaled a long breath.

"Those people… they've rotted past the point of salvage."

Even granting the old saying that fish cannot live in water too pure—they had crossed every line that mattered. They had made quiet trouble even when her younger brother, the Grand Patriarch, had been whole and sound. Now they had gone past the point of no return.

"Trash like that isn't worth helping just because they share the Yeon name."

And besides—such men would be of no real use to her purpose of seating Yeon Seo-rin as Family Head.

"The core of my faction is intact, I trust?"

The officers nodded hastily.

"Y-yes, Pavilion Master."

"They are currently standing by at their residences, watching the main estate's situation with the utmost care."

Utmost care, is it. More like reading the wind.

She sighed at the thought and waved a hand.

"…Fine. That will do. Leave me."

Under the crushing pressure of a master who had crossed the wall, the officers fled as if their lives depended on it. Alone in the emptied room, the Guard Pavilion Master sighed once more.

Once, her younger brother the Grand Patriarch had stood in the way of her dream of becoming Family Head. Now his eldest son had burst onto the stage to block her aim of making Yeon Seo-rin Family Head in turn.

"…No. Not this time. Absolutely not."

Even as she muttered it, her razor-sharp senses caught a figure stepping out through the training grounds' gate.

The instant she confirmed who it was, her voice cracked like a whip.

"Yeon Seo-rin!"

Ordinarily the girl would at least have flinched at her master's call.

"…Master."

Yet today Yeon Seo-rin only turned to look at her—calm, level, unreadable.

"You neglect the training I set you and try to leave again—where do you think you're going?!"

A low rumble answered. At the Guard Pavilion Master's aura the cliffs to either side of the training grounds shuddered, and small stones rattled free and fell.

On any other day Seo-rin would have given up and gone back in by now, and the Guard Pavilion Master would have settled for putting her through a merciless bout of training.

"Master."

But today's Yeon Seo-rin was different.

"From now on, I will walk my own path freely."

"…Freely?"

A tremor ran along the Guard Pavilion Master's eyelid, like a spasm.

"Have you forgotten your responsibility? Must I remind you of it once again?"

She did not need to. Seo-rin could not have forgotten—not after hearing the same tale of her duty hundreds, thousands of times, drilled into her like indoctrination.

"…On the day Father fell. He was already poisoned, and when he threw himself over me to protect me, he took the assassin's strike."

It was the story of that day—the day that had left the Grand Patriarch unable to rise ever since.

"Yes. You remember well."

The Guard Pavilion Master's tone softened, almost coaxing.

"And the last words your father spoke as he held you—you remember those as well, I trust?"

"That in place of my elder sister, who would leave the family through her betrothal to the Hwangbo clan, I was to protect our family and lead the house. Those words?"

"Exactly those."

She lifted a hand and pointed to the sword Seo-rin wore at her hip—the Grand Patriarch's own blade.

"Those were the words he left you when he passed that sword into your hands."

And that, precisely, had been the shackle binding Yeon Seo-rin all this time—the collar around her throat.

As she always had, the Guard Pavilion Master went on in a coaxing voice.

"A martial artist of your father's caliber could easily have preserved his own life, had he not tried to shield you."

Watching Seo-rin bite her lip under the weight of guilt, the Guard Pavilion Master hid a chill smile.

"Yesterday. Today. The main estate has been in utter chaos of late. Countless people are shedding blood, and countless more are dying for nothing."

She drove home the disorder gripping the Luoyang Sword Family and asked,

"If your father had not fallen that day—what do you think would have become of things?"

Then the Luoyang Sword Family of today… would have been entirely different.

"I, too, would rather not have to awaken you to that heavy responsibility in this fashion. But you must become Family Head of the Luoyang Sword Fam—"

"Master."

Seo-rin cut her off.

"No. Aunt."

Meeting the eyes of a disciple who called her not master but aunt, the Guard Pavilion Master flinched in spite of herself. Something about Seo-rin's manner was utterly unlike her usual self.

"Did you hate Father that much?"

"…What nonsense is this?! You—!"

Even as the Guard Pavilion Master tried to cover her fluster with anger, Seo-rin left her no gap.

"Why did you pour those lies into me all these years—into a child who could barely remember what had happened?"

The eyes that regarded her crumbling master were almost sorrowful.

"Lies? What on earth are you—?!"

"These documents are copies. So-hyeon sent them to me in secret at dawn."

At the sight of Seo-rin drawing papers from her robes, the Guard Pavilion Master frowned.

"That boy—what has he—?"

"See for yourself."

She snatched the flung documents from the air with Void Seizure. The moment her eyes fell on them, her gaze began to shake beyond all control.

These were none other than the documents Yeon So-hyeon had found the previous night in the Agency Director's personal vault.

"Th-this…?!"

Seo-rin spoke with a bitter edge.

"As you can see—records of the scene at the time. The Agency Director who went missing last night had been keeping them in secret."

The Guard Pavilion Master wanted to scream.

"According to the materials, every circumstance that day was steeped in ambiguity. No one remembered anything clearly. No one truly grasped what had happened."

The records even contained claims that the personnel on duty had seen a six-legged beast, or a grotesque form with fifty wings cutting across the empty air.

"It's true that I was found nearby as a child, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠holding Father's sword. But nowhere is there any report that Father was struck while shielding me. And crucially—"

Seo-rin's words continued.

"You, Aunt, were not even there."

The story that had brainwashed Yeon Seo-rin for so long collapsed in on itself.

"S-Seo-rin. That is—"

She tried to form some excuse.

"No. No…!"

The collar the Guard Pavilion Master had fastened was broken.

"There is so much I would like to hear…"

Seo-rin smiled, a sad and quiet smile.

"But you will never tell me everything yourself. Will you, Aunt."

She sank to her knees on the bare ground and bowed.

"Thank you for raising me. For teaching me."

It was the final courtesy offered to one who had been her master.

"I will descend the mountain now."

The Guard Pavilion Master stretched out a hand toward her departing disciple—but Yeon Seo-rin left as if she had found her wings again, light and free.

"Seo-rin…!"

In that moment, neither the internal qi that made Void Seizure possible nor the realm that could set the cliffs trembling was of the slightest use.

Upon returning to the main estate of the Luoyang Sword Family, the first place the First Young Master Yeon So-hyeon went was, contrary to everyone's expectations, neither his own residence at Wongak Pavilion, nor the Supreme Operations Committee, nor the Council of Elders.

Behind the main hall of the Inner Court.

The Grand Patriarch's quarters.

The Medicine King—master to Yeon So-hyeon's mother, the Medicine Fairy Yak So-yu—trembled in his hands from the tension. Even Yeon So-hyeon, who would ordinarily have tossed out a joke for no reason at all, only watched in silence, his manner utterly serious.

Tap.

A drop of blood fell onto a half-rotted, blackish scrap of flesh. Black smoke billowed up at once, and the lump of flesh began to writhe as if it were alive. The Medicine King jerked his face away from the sight and asked Yeon So-hyeon,

"…Whose flesh is this, you say?"

"Geum-jil. A man of the Demonic Cult."

And the blood dripped upon that scrap of Geum-jil's flesh belonged to none other than Yeon So-hyeon's father—the Grand Patriarch.

"Then…"

Yeon So-hyeon nodded.

"As I suspected. Father's poisoning and his loss of consciousness are symptoms connected to the Demonic Cult."

That suspicion had hardened nearly to certainty after he read the records of that day the Agency Director had hidden away. Contradictory testimony. A scene of pure chaos. It was far too similar to the reality distortions wrought by demonic qi that he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had seen so many times before.

"So that was it. That was it."

It had been neither an ordinary illness nor an ordinary poison. From ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the beginning, it had lain outside the domain of physicians—and outside even the Medicine King's domain as a cultivator of the immortal path.

The Medicine King let out a long sigh.

"No wonder ten thousand medicines and ten thousand treatments were all useless…!"

At last the reason was laid bare—why even the Medicine King, the greatest physician in the Central Plains, and Yeon So-hyeon himself had for all those years been unable to cure the Grand Patriarch.

"How much of the sample remains?"

To the Medicine King, alight with excitement, Yeon So-hyeon nodded.

"Enough."

A faint smile touched his lips as he went on.

"And the Demonic Cult will only grow more rampant from here. Obtaining a variety of samples should not prove difficult."

Whatever its origins, the Demonic Cult of the present was evil. Its people were villains, and their deeds were villainy. Yeon So-hyeon had not the slightest intention of standing idle before them.

The Medicine King looked for a moment at Yeon So-hyeon—as good as a grandson to him—with worried eyes, then shook his head.

"…Very well."

From all he had witnessed thus far, Yeon So-hyeon was a man who needed no one's fretting. There was no call to drag the matter out with messy talk.

"Now that we have a lead—"

The Medicine King returned fully to the eyes of a physician.

"Leave the research to me. I will find a cure. I swear it."

In all the Central Plains, what physician could Yeon So-hyeon trust more than the Medicine King? He met the old man's gaze squarely and nodded.

"I leave it in your hands."

Faced with an uncharacteristically frank Yeon So-hyeon, the Medicine King cleared his throat, awkwardly averted his eyes, and rose at once from his seat.

"Well then. I'll leave you in peace."

"Most likely."

At the voice from behind him, the Medicine King—hand already on the door latch—went still.

"This is only conjecture, but Father was probably not the first to fall to this method at the time."

"…Surely not."

The Medicine King grasped at once what Yeon So-hyeon's conjecture implied.

"Are you saying the late Emperor, too, was struck down by the same method and passed from this world?"

"As I said—only a conjecture. It will need deeper investigation. But…"

Still with his back turned, Yeon So-hyeon continued in a quiet, level voice.

"If one wished to begin the work of bringing down the entire Central Kingdom, and if there were a most efficient way to do it—"

"…It would be to target the Emperor and the Sword Family's Head."

There the conversation ended. The Medicine King closed the door behind him, and only two remained in the room: Yeon So-hyeon and the Grand Patriarch.

"…Father."

Yeon So-hyeon reached out and took his father's hand. The Grand Patriarch's body, wasted to skin and bone, did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not even respond to the demonic qi of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture. By now, no trace of the Demonic Cult's demonic qi remained either. Demonic qi might have stolen the Grand Patriarch's consciousness that day—but his present unconsciousness was nothing more than the aftermath of that distorted reality.

"Somehow, I will find a way to heal you. So that you can rise from this bed again."

His father's hand was nothing but bone and sinew. Nowhere in it remained the shape of that large, sure, warm hand from childhood memory. Only the calluses of a lifetime spent gripping a sword lingered as a last remnant.

"And when you wake, Father—"

Hot drops fell, one after another, upon that hand where the bones stood so plain.

"I will make certain you can be proud of me."