Part 3: The Sacred Valley
“S-stop…!”
Yeon Bi gasped for breath in short, ragged heaves, offering only the feeblest of resistance.
“What, you’re full already after just this much…?!”
The Second Young Lady, Yeon Seo-rin, showed no intention of stopping. Once more she piled her spoon high with meat and forced it into Yeon Bi’s mouth.
“You little brat. This is why you never grow—you eat like a bird…!”
Perhaps it was because Yeon So-hyeon’s presence had finally let the tension drain out of her. She had only shared a few cups of wine with the meal, yet her face was already flushed a deep, drunken red. She exhaled a breath thick with the smell of liquor and trembled with righteous fervor.
“Your mother begged me—begged me—to look after you. If I leave you like this I’ll never be able to face her in the next life…!”
Her tone was as resolute as if she were carrying out a final will.
“No, Sister…!” Yeon Bi cried out, mouth still stuffed full of food, voice thick with injustice. “My mother is still alive, you know?! She just can’t come outside…! So please stop talking about her like she’s dead!”
“Nonsense!”
Yeon Seo-rin’s brows slammed together. Her already formidable features grew even more intimidating.
“Eek…!”
Yeon Bi flinched and shrank back. With a face of utter seriousness she called out to him.
“So-hyeon.”
…So-hyeon?
“S-Sister? I’m not Eldest Brother, I’m Yeon Bi—”
He never finished the sentence.
“So-hyeon. No matter how profound your martial arts become, with that height and that frame you’ll never draw out your full power.”
Clearly she was thoroughly drunk and had confused Yeon So-hyeon with Yeon Bi.
“The foundation of martial arts is the harmony of heart, qi, and body! The growth of the flesh lies in meals!”
“I-I’m a poison human to begin with—I can’t grow any further—!”
The moment Yeon Bi opened his mouth to protest, another fistful of meat was shoved inside.
“Mmph…!”
Watching the spectacle, the Third Young Lady Yeon Da-eun and the Fourth Young Lady Yeon Da-hye were already bright red, stomping their feet and clapping as they roared with laughter. Yeon Seo-rin’s original intention of teaching them how to drink properly had long since vanished; both twins were thoroughly plastered.
“You always run away from us sisters—serves you right, Yeon Bi!”
“Second Sister! For balance he needs vegetables too!”
…Here, at last, was the clear reason why even the usually fearless Yeon Bi fled from his older sisters.
“Gyaaah—!”
What had begun as a refined midday meal among the siblings of the dignified Yeon clan had long since degenerated into pure chaos.
“Heh.”
Seated a short distance apart, Yeon So-hyeon savored the fragrance of the wine and laughed softly under his breath. Some might point fingers and sneer that the children of a prestigious house were making fools of themselves. But to Yeon So-hyeon the sight was simply welcome—almost nostalgic.
How long has it been since we looked like this?
Even setting aside his eldest sister, who had married into the Hwangbo family, and the second and third brothers who could not sit with them today—how long had it been since the family had gathered and felt this much like a family? To Yeon So-hyeon, who had already lived one lifetime steeped in pain and regret, the scene was all the more precious, all the more heartbreaking.
Crash!
The scrape of a chair toppling over shattered his reverie.
“I hate you, Sisters! I hate you!”
While Yeon So-hyeon had been lost in sentiment, Yeon Bi—fighting a lonely battle without reinforcements—fled with tears welling in his eyes.
“Catch him!”
“We’ll catch him and fatten him up nice and plump!”
Giggling, Yeon Da-eun and Yeon Da-hye sprang to their feet and charged after him. As a bonus, Yeon Da-eun’s wine-addled feet tangled and she dragged Yeon Da-hye down with her.
“Hey, Sister?! Why are you grabbing me and falling over?!”
“You’re the one who can’t even handle that much?!”
Still bickering, they scrambled up again and resumed the chase.
“Ah?! He’s getting away!”
“Halt right there!”
They had spent their entire lives as sheltered young ladies. Yeon So-hyeon had feared the recent bloodshed might leave deep scars on their hearts—but his worry had clearly been unnecessary.
“Do you not resent this older brother of yours?”
“We don’t resent you at all.”
Just as he had felt when they tightly held his anxious hands amid the sea of blood at the Sword House Bank that day—
They’re strong children.
The image of their mother, Grand Lady Ha of the Taesang household, rose unbidden in his mind.
“Mmmph…”
Thump. Completely drunk, Yeon Seo-rin finally planted her face on the table and passed out cold. Yeon So-hyeon rose slowly, quietly, and draped his Heukjamsa coat over her. With the same careful hands he brushed the tangled hair from her face and smoothed it into order. The touch was almost excessively gentle, meticulous, and tender.
Welcome home, Sister.
He lifted his gaze and slowly took in the room. The siblings’ meal had reached its end. The moment had been as brief as a heartbeat—yet the memory of it would become a treasure he would never exchange for anything in the world. For a quiet instant he closed his eyes, as if to imprint the present upon his heart, then slipped away on silent feet.
“Mmm-yum-yum…”
Yeon Seo-rin slept. Yeon Bi had fled. The twins had chased after him. Yeon So-hyeon had withdrawn. Yet the space they left behind was filled only with warmth—overflowing with it.
After entrusting Yeon Seo-rin to his chief maid Jeong-a, Yeon So-hyeon changed into plain white cotton robes he had not worn in a very long time—the sort of humble clothes a poor scholar might wear. It was the very outfit he had once used to slip unnoticed through the market streets back when “Swordless” had been a term of mockery.
“Cheap! Everything’s cheap!”
“You there—two skewers, please!”
The sun was already sinking, yet the former Valley of Sin—now the Sacred Valley—was far livelier than it had been during the solemn daylight hours. Rows of red lanterns strung along the alleys cast a festive glow; wandering musicians played for a coin or two and lifted the mood still higher.
“Oh my, what a lovely ornament…!”
“It suits you perfectly, young lady.”
Buildings converted into shops thrived with excited pilgrims. Even the spots leveled by the pirate mercenary fleet’s cannon fire had been filled with temporary street stalls that packed every steep alley of the valley. This was the night market of the Sacred Valley—already a new landmark of Luoyang.
With calm eyes Yeon So-hyeon simply watched the crowds. For a little while he set his burdens aside, forgot the hardships of life, and let the joyful faces of people enjoying themselves fill his deep black eyes. In that moment it almost felt as though he had returned to the past when he had wished to remain only the Swordless, a mere scholar, rather than the Eldest Young Master.
“Out for a secret stroll?”
But unlike those days, there were now people who recognized him no matter how shabby his clothes.
“Well now, a distinguished guest has graced us.”
Chuckling, the Old Tactician of the War Advisory Group settled onto the seat beside him. His wrinkled face was flushed a deep radish red, as though he had been soaking in a wine jar.
“Drinking again from midday?”
“Of course.”
Yeon So-hyeon’s tone might have sounded like a scolding, yet the old man only laughed contentedly.
“I’ve spent my whole life on battlefields. An old man who knows nothing but war suddenly finds himself with nothing to do—how could that not be a blessing?”
True to form, the Old Tactician’s words carried a sharp undercurrent.
“…I see.”
Yeon So-hyeon nodded calmly in acceptance and turned his gaze back to the night market.
“The mountain breeze is fine.”
The Old Tactician leisurely drew a small flask from his robes and took a long pull. Even from here the sharp reek of high-proof alcohol made it clear this was no ordinary liquor.
“Who would ever have imagined that a hell-pit of ruins and starving poor who once ate human flesh could transform into this?” The old man spoke in a half-sung murmur, matching the distant songs and instruments. “My lord has accomplished something great.”
My lord. Not Eldest Young Master—he called Yeon So-hyeon “my lord.” It was his own expression of trust.
“But it is still not enough,” Yeon So-hyeon said evenly. “Those enjoying the night market are people with enough leisure in their lives to make a pilgrimage. The residents of this valley are still working themselves to the bone even at this hour.”
His eyes rested on those hauling goods, selling wares, calling to customers.
“They prepare before sunrise and keep laboring long after the sun has set. And every last thing they use for business—the stalls, the merchandise—everything from start to finish is merely leased from Jaewon. What capital would the destitute have had to start a trade?”
“Heh heh.”
Yet the Old Tactician only shook his head, face pleasantly drunk.
“If a man lacks skill and capital, then he must make up for it with his body, mustn’t he?”
“…A merciless thing to say.”
“Is it?”
The old man laughed heartily and pointed toward a youth climbing the valley alleys beneath a heavily laden A-frame.
“Do you see that young man’s face?”
Sweat poured from every pore; his legs trembled. Yet there was no shadow on his expression. The Old Tactician continued as if speaking to the wind.
“Who doesn’t dream of becoming rich? But what they realistically hope for is simply that life… becomes just a little easier.”
“…Life becomes just a little easier?”
“Exactly.” The old man nodded, face etched with the years. “Just a tiny bit easier is enough.”
While Yeon So-hyeon took a sip of the fierce liquor the elder had passed him, the Old Tactician went on.
“No matter what the rulers try or how hard they strive, how dramatically can the lives of people like them ever change? This old man is enjoying a leisurely drink right now, but in the end I’ll have to study strategy and devise tactics again.” He pointed down another alley. “Look—there are the War Advisory Group swordsmen enjoying their leave.”
Indeed, a group of warriors sat at a street tavern, each clutching a bottle, arms slung around one another’s shoulders as they belted out songs for the sheer joy of it. Unlike the time they had disguised leave in order to help Yeon So-hyeon in secret, this was a genuine holiday.
“Soldiers and warriors must train formations again, sharpen their blades, feed the warhorses, hone their martial arts—and eventually return to the battlefield.” The man who had spent his entire life at war spoke. “What they want is a brief rest like this.”
Yeon So-hyeon understood and answered first.
“So long as life does not run straight from one war into the next, from one battlefield to the next… that is enough, is it?”
The old man nodded.
“Exactly. If life becomes just a little easier, bit by bit, that is enough.”
Yeon So-hyeon’s gaze returned to the man hauling the A-frame. While they had spoken, the fellow had staggered onward and was already climbing far up the valley. Yeon So-hyeon’s face looked a fraction lighter.
“And yet,” the Old Tactician continued, secretly pleased that he had managed to ease—even slightly—the unimaginably heavy burden Yeon So-hyeon carried, “even if it is nothing more than idealism, it is because people like you, my lord, reach for ideals that can never be grasped that our lives are, without a doubt, becoming just a little easier like this.”
With that he rose, swayed, and staggered away into the night.
“…Is that so.”
For a moment Yeon So-hyeon closed his eyes and felt the night wind. Then he drew a small wooden carving from his robes. It was crooked, crude, and had clearly been broken and glued back together—utterly unremarkable. A wooden figure of the Medicine Fairy. It was the keepsake left by the dead younger brother of a retired soldier who had once received meat porridge from the Jaewon in Walnut Village.
Yeon So-hyeon set the little statue upright against the rock where he had been sitting. Then he uncorked the flask the Old Tactician had left and poured a generous measure of liquor over it.
“…I will not stop.”
So saying, he raised his eyes to the sky. In the summer night that had drawn so suddenly near, the stars glittered thickly, one after another.