The Garden of Delight in Full Bloom
They say that to those brimming with reason, melting snow is merely water; and that to those brimming with feeling, melting snow means spring has come.
Dancheon Myeong, twenty-three years old.
Unlike Myeong-gae, I seemed to be a late-stage case whose emotions were still alive and well.
The spring that had arrived with the melting snow could not have been more welcome.
The Start of Spring.
Though the calendar called it the season's beginning, the deep freeze that had built through the Minor and Major Cold still raged unchecked. But just as the warm winds the Start of Spring carried in had melted the snow, this cold too would soon fade from the world — such, I supposed, was nature's way of keeping its own order.
And so…
Having barely escaped the title of ultimate unfilial son by ringing in the new year with the family, I set out from the Dancheon Sword Clan once more on the back of the spring breeze.
"Why don't you just stay out there and live, then?"
"Take care of yourself out there."
"…Be careful."
"Just you wait and see!"
With such an enthusiastic send-off from the family, I took to the road alongside my sworn brother Chunbaek.
In my Myeong-gae days, Hwanragwon had been discovered after the summer solstice of the year that came to be known as the Year of the Divided Peach. It was now the Start of Spring of my twenty-third year, which left us, by my count, a single season's worth of time.
Still, better to hurry. As the saying goes, nothing beats being prepared — and to forestall whatever variables might arise, the discovery needed to happen a little ahead of schedule.
"So where are we headed now?"
Chunbaek asked. He knew perfectly well that we were wandering about playing at herb-hunters, but I supposed this particular destination had him curious.
"Hmm."
We had passed through a great many places of late — "drifting without destination" would be the honest way to put it. We had roamed with no clear purpose, playing at herb-hunting wherever we landed, all of it cover. But with the snow now melted, it was time to set my plan in motion.
Which meant this outing had a definite destination.
"Fond of the Five Sacred Mountains, are you?"
"I like looking at them."
The Five Peaks mostly boasted rugged, forbidding terrain — which, in a way, might be counted among the very qualifications of a numinous mountain. Rugged scenery means views that look mysterious and beautiful from afar but are pure agony to climb, so Chunbaek had a point. For the most part, the Five Peaks were best admired from a distance.
This time, however, I could not indulge that preference.
"How about we start with the Northern Peak?"
"If you say we go, we go. What else?"
"Much obliged."
Our destination was Mount Heng, the Northern Peak, in the northeastern corner of Shanxi — the mystical treasure vault where Hwanragwon lay sleeping.
The vast Central Plains embrace countless famous mountains, and if one had to name the most representative among them, the Five Sacred Mountains would top the list without contest. The term refers to the five mountains ranked supreme in all the world — proof, I'd say, that my pet theory holds true: people simply love their rankings.
Since ancient times, people have held famous mountains to be numinous — in other words, to harbor spiritual energy. That energy was something only a rare few gifted with divine endowment could perceive, and yet at the same time it was something everyone in the world knew of and believed in. Among the mountains blessed with such energy, five were crowned the greatest, and so many a power made the Five Peaks its stronghold. They were what the parlance calls auspicious ground — propitious sites of heaven's favor.
Mount Song of the Center. The seat of Shaolin, root of all martial arts under heaven, known to every soul in the Central Plains.
Mount Hua of the West. Home of the Mount Hua Sect, one of the Nine Great Sects and One Clan, famed for its sheer cliffs and perilous crags.
Mount Heng of the South and Mount Tai of the East. Where the Hengshan Sect and the Mount Tai Sect had once held sway with prestige rivaling the Nine Great Sects and One Clan. The very fact that "once" attaches itself to that sentence means their glory had not carried through to the present day. Perhaps it stood as proof that human affairs are decided by neither spiritual energy nor fortune alone.
And last of all, Mount Heng of the North. Despite being numbered among the Five Sacred Mountains, no power had ever taken root there. Some said it was because the mountain stood at the edge of the frontier beyond the passes, hard by Inner Mongolia; others said it was because Mount Heng, uniquely vast even among the Five Peaks, was simply too large for any single power to claim.
In truth, the reason hardly mattered. Before this year was out, Hwanragwon — the treasure vault of elixirs slumbering within Mount Heng — was destined to be revealed to the world. With Mount Heng at its center, the well-earned fame of the Five Sacred Mountains would set the Central Plains boiling all over again.
Mount Heng was vast. The Hengshan range, forming the natural boundary between Shanxi and Hebei, sprawled a thousand li from north to south and four hundred li from east to west — a size that could hold a small kingdom with room to spare.
Put another way, setting out to find Hwanragwon armed with nothing more than the knowledge that "Hwanragwon lies on Mount Heng" was an endeavor as close to impossible as hunting for one particular Mr. Jang in all of Beijing.
But there was no cause for worry. I had already surveyed Hwanragwon's location down to the last detail back in my Myeong-gae days of the Divided Peach year, whacking One-Knot beggars on the head with my begging bowl until they talked. Myeong-gae would have taken offense at being called anything less than the Beggars' Gang's finest pathfinder, so retracing my steps there posed little difficulty.
It was much like when I had first entered the Yakseon Heart Decision and gone searching for Mount Cheonjung in Henan. As we climbed Mount Heng, landscapes tinged with déjà vu had begun to stir my senses; all across the mountain, I kept coming upon landmarks I remembered.
"This way."
"Mm."
Deep in trackless mountains and hidden valleys, my guidance was as unerring as if we were following a marked highway. Thanks to that, Chunbaek and I cut straight through the deepest reaches of the Hengshan range without hindrance. Perhaps the thought of discovering Hwanragwon had me a little giddy — I couldn't deny my pace had quickened.
"Where are we headed, exactly?"
Unlike usual, I was striding past every herb that caught the eye along the way, and Chunbaek, unable to hide his puzzlement, finally asked.
"Over there."
The place I pointed to was a ridge, faint and far away.
"I have a feeling something good is waiting over there."
I left the awkward excuses unsaid and said just that. With Chunbaek as the listener, there was no need to fabricate anything.
"Some manner of intuition?"
"Let's call it that."
In truth, it was not a complete lie. Perhaps the spiritual sense I had awakened that day on an unnamed summit, when I found the Celestial Lingzhi, still lingered — for my instincts were pointing powerfully toward the direction of Hwanragwon. The pull was so strong that I suspected my feet would have found their way there even without the scouting. It felt like a fate one could not refuse.
Tap! Distant as the ridge had seemed, when masters of the lightfoot arts took to the air, distance shrank fast — we reached our destination before long, and our steps came to a halt at the edge of a sheer cliff.
"Mm."
Spread across the floor of the sheer-cut chasm below was a spectacle one would hardly believe belonged to the mortal world.
"…This is truly something."
Chunbaek spoke at last, after a long silence.
"I couldn't agree more."
I answered in complete sincerity. This was not the Hwanragwon of my Myeong-gae days, stripped bare down to the last blade of grass. The mystical treasure vault, embroidered with jade blossoms and immortal grasses, was a scene of such auspicious splendor that words could scarcely hold it.
There was an old saying for beautiful scenery: Above, there is Heaven; below, there are Suzhou and Hangzhou. It meant that Hangzhou and Suzhou were as lovely as Heaven itself — a saying passed down through the ages. But it was time to amend it: Below, there is Hwanragwon. The sight before us was enough to make that revision seem only fitting — and coming from someone who had toured both Suzhou and Hangzhou in his Myeong-gae days, the judgment could not be wrong.
"Is this the Peach Blossom Land of legend?"
Chunbaek murmured an impression much like my own. I knew the answer, so it was only right to correct him.
"No."
Chunbaek's gaze turned to me, seeking it.
"It is called Hwanragwon. Probably."
"…!"
At that name — strange, yet somehow familiar — admiration bloomed across Chunbaek's face. The snow that had melted with the Start of Spring hung in water droplets, setting the jade blossoms and immortal grasses glittering like jewels. We had crossed the Start of Spring and reached Rain Water — spring had arrived in earnest.
Why a hidden valley teeming with rare elixirs had been named for "delight" — I could understand without ever hearing the story behind it. The curious thing was that gazing upon Hwanragwon stirred not greed, but awe. Its scenery was the very manifestation of the immortals' land, the Peach Blossom Realm one had only ever heard of in legend. Perhaps it was the valley's profound qi that kept base desires from coiling and taking root.
I stole a glance. I trusted him from the start, but just in case, I studied Chunbaek's face.
"Oh…"
There stood Chunbaek, mouth agape, his expression utterly guileless. A chuckle slipped out of me — I had realized his heart was no different from mine. It was only for a moment, but I reproached myself for having failed to trust him completely.
I trusted Chunbaek — but there were things that still needed saying. A warning about the danger the Hwanragwon we had discovered carried, and the groundwork for the plan to come.
"This matter must stay secret for now."
"Naturally."
There was no need to impress it upon him again and again. Chunbaek had lived the life of a wanderer and knew all too well the peril that treasures — and information worth as much — carried with them.
Chunbaek clicked his tongue and went on.
"One careless word, and…"
"Blood will flow."
"…No doubt. You take care as well."
As if in agreement with the word I had put into the air, resolve settled over Chunbaek's face.
In any case, we had confirmed Hwanragwon's true nature, and so the purpose of our visit to Mount Heng was fulfilled.
"Let's head down for now."
"Good idea."
This was Hwanragwon, discovered deep in the hidden valleys of a mighty range, and all our herb-hunting had yielded was a single wrapped bundle. We decided to descend for the time being.
"We should hurry."
"Agreed."
My Cloud-Treading Steps and the Mystic Gate Sect's lightfoot art unfurled beneath Chunbaek's feet were each worthy of being called first-rate in the Jianghu, and we returned to the city with the sun still high in the sky.
Now every scrap of plausibility was secured. Which meant our stint as herb-hunters — a lot fate never dealt us — had come to an end.
Ying County. A city in northern Shanxi, closer to Mount Heng than anywhere else. Before ascending the mountain, we had reserved rooms at its largest inn — for the time being, it would serve as our base of operations.
Unlike our aimless drifting as self-proclaimed herb-hunters, Chunbaek and I had now planted a base in Ying County. Which meant those watching me would likewise set up their own post there — for no organization would commit personnel of that caliber, the kind who could tail us through uninhabited mountains without betraying the slightest presence, to mere surveillance duty.
Truth be told, one could say I had steered my watchers into acting precisely that way. And one more self-evident fact: long before we ever climbed Mount Heng, I had already made note of every face among those shadowing us. I'll grant they played their parts with real dedication, but none of them had the talent to slip past the eyes of Myeong-gae, an elite information operative who had worked even within the Pigak.
"Get some rest."
"Where are you off to?"
"I have some work to take care of."
"Off you go, then."
One of the pleasures of traveling with Chunbaek was never having to explain myself or make excuses. We were close enough to call ourselves sworn brothers, yet he never pried into my private affairs — perhaps the temperament of a man who had lived as the successor of the Mystic Gate Sect.
Parting from Chunbaek for a while, I set in motion the plan I had conceived long ago.
"To start…"
My first point of contact would be the beggars of the Beggars' Gang.