A Bolt from the Blue (3)
One of the ancient sages once told us that a bull’s horn must be pulled while it is still hot. And so I went straight to where Namgung Jehyun was staying the very next day.
“The place seems rather busy.”
Several carriages were already lined up inside the grounds, and the squad members stood in neat ranks and files. Workers hurried back and forth, loading supplies. They must have been making early preparations for the procession ahead. I had never seen them go to such lengths before, but the scale this time was clearly larger, so they were paying extra attention.
“Good day to you, Commander of the Changgung Sword Squad.”
Regardless, I made my way to Namgung Jehyun’s quarters. He sat in the exact same spot as yesterday, meticulously wiping down his sword. He spared me only the briefest glance before returning his full concentration to the blade.
I quietly drew out the chair opposite him and sat. Some time later, having polished the sword until its surface gleamed, he lifted it, examined the edge against the light streaming through the window, and finally looked at me.
“Have you decided?”
His blue eyes bored into mine. I met that gaze and gave a firm nod.
“I will go.”
“A wise choice.”
He slid the sword he had been inspecting back into the scabbard at his waist. Then, without ceremony, he jerked his thumb toward the door.
“Then go prepare. There is no time.”
“Pardon?”
What did he mean, prepare? Was he telling me to join the procession they were readying? I had not been told anything about this.
Yet in answer to my confusion, Namgung Jehyun spoke words I had not anticipated at all.
“Didn’t you know? We leave today.”
As he opened the door to leave, he used telekinesis to open a side drawer, retrieving a scroll and a brush. He unfurled the scroll and wrote my name in the center with swift strokes.
“The road is long and time is precious, so hurry.”
So when he had said decide by today, he had meant we would depart today. It was a bolt from the blue, perfectly in keeping with the Namgung Clan’s symbol of white thunder. Even the Heavenly Demon Cult would not have moved with such ruthless speed.
Stunned by the outrageous timetable, I stood frozen in place. Namgung Jehyun seized the back of my neck and dragged me out the door. Once I regained my senses and began walking on my own, he greeted the squad members as he passed them.
Then he approached one of the workers organizing the baggage and asked a question. The worker bowed low and hurried off somewhere.
“Ah. Come to think of it, you may still be too young to ride one of those.”
Too young for what? The answer arrived together with the worker, who returned leading a horse by its black reins.
Namgung Jehyun took the reins and gestured toward me.
“This must be your first time on horseback. Try it once. If you truly cannot manage, ride double with someone or climb onto the supply wagon.”
For the first time, his voice carried a note of genuine concern. Paradoxically, the very thing that worried him was the one part of this journey I had no need to fear.
People often assume that martial artists must cross rivers and scale mountains using mysterious footwork, but martial artists are still human. The dantian is not an endless well; internal energy has clear limits. And because we are human, our stamina is finite as well. Group movement only magnifies the problem.
If everyone used light footwork, differences in technique, cultivation, and inner power would cause paths to diverge or stragglers to fall behind. The entire purpose of traveling as a unit would be lost. That is why, surprisingly, many martial artists choose to ride horses. Even during my final campaign as Vice Leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult, I had ridden—despite having more than enough internal energy to run the whole way.
“It is all right, Commander of the Changgung Sword Squad.”
I accepted the reins naturally and stroked the horse’s mane.
“It is only a horse, after all.”
With that, I sprang up in a single clean motion and settled into the saddle. One light tug on the reins and the horse snorted, hooves dancing forward with a lively whinny.
“Remarkable.”
Namgung Jehyun clapped three times, slow and deliberate, regarding me with open admiration.
I met his eyes and asked, “Then where should I position myself, Commander of the Changgung Sword Squad?”
He gave a satisfied smile, as though pleased by what he saw, and pointed toward one of the carriages.
“Just as I was told—astonishing talent indeed. Stay at the rear and keep up.”
.
.
“This is clearly intentional.”
Sitting astride the horse and following the procession, I grumbled under my breath. I held the reins loosely and let my body slump forward.
“Sowoon oppa! Look over here!”
From the carriage directly ahead, Namgung Hye waved her small, pebble-sized hand with a bright smile. Unable to ignore her, I returned a tired wave and then slumped again.
How long was this going to continue? Namgung Hye showed no sign of tiring. She kept poking her head out the window to greet me and chatter away. Thanks to her, I was now experiencing the rare pleasure of babysitting while on horseback.
“Seha… rein her in a little, will you?”
You may be twins, but you are the older sister. Your mental age is far higher than hers. I knew perfectly well that she was riding in the same carriage, and she knew that I knew—yet Namgung Seha maintained a stubborn wall of silence and indifference.
Swish.
Just then, a hand emerged from the opposite side of the window where Namgung Hye’s head was poking out. As expected, it was Namgung Seha’s—also small as a pebble. My face brightened with sudden hope. But that hope was dashed when she simply wiggled her fingers in a half-hearted wave and withdrew her hand again.
Damn it. She had been icy cold ever since yesterday. During our conversation she had suddenly stood up and walked away without a word. When I followed after her, she had remained completely silent. I searched my memory for anything I might have said wrong, but I could find no fault on my part. From my perspective, her behavior was utterly incomprehensible.
“You’re popular. Even Lady Hye is paying attention to you. A dragon really is in a league of its own.”
The voice came from beside me as a man quietly drew his horse alongside mine. It was Kang Uk—the first squad member I had met in the Namgung Clan and the one I had encountered most often. We were on fairly close terms.
As always, he wore the distinctive blue uniform of the Changgung Sword Squad. He leaned his head toward me while keeping his eyes fixed forward.
“Still, Lady Seha seems to be keeping her distance from you today. Did something happen?”
Perhaps because we had been seen together so often, even others had begun to notice that something existed between us. Honestly, I was still unsure, but I leaned toward the belief that something did. I nodded.
“It does seem like something happened.”
Kang Uk turned his head slightly, meeting my eyes with understanding.
“And you have no idea what it is?”
His question struck the exact sore spot. I slumped forward again, idly running my fingers through the horse’s mane, then muttered in complaint.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here doing nothing…”
Kang Uk gave a short laugh. He released one hand from the reins, reached into his robe, and pulled something out. Without thinking, I accepted it. The object was heavy, cold, and jingled. Anyone could tell it was money.
Startled, I sat bolt upright.
Neigh!
The surprised horse bucked once. I calmed it carefully so it would not cause a scene. Kang Uk, still chuckling, spoke.
“When we stop to rest later, gather a few things and give her a gift. That works best.”
Before I could return the coins, he rode back to his original position. When I tried to follow and give them back, he called over his shoulder.
“No need to repay it. It’s not much, and I have nowhere particular to spend it anyway.”
He clearly had no intention of taking the money back. After offering it several more times, I reluctantly tucked it away.
“Thank you.”
Still looking straight ahead, Kang Uk replied, “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve endured.”
What endurance? Wondering what he meant, I glanced at him. He gave me a quick look and jerked his chin toward the front. When I turned back, Namgung Hye was grinning with her white teeth on full display, calling out to me again.
“I’m bored! Play with me!”
What should I do this time? Release the reins and wave? Tell her a story? I was still debating when—
“Hye. It’s dangerous. Pull your head back in.”
Namgung Seha’s short command rang out. With a disappointed whine, Namgung Hye gave me one last meaningful glance before retreating. A pale hand reached out and closed the carriage window.
And then came the quiet words:
“Please travel the rest of the way in comfort.”