True Identity
Even at midday, the dense canopy of trees kept the sunlight from reaching the forest floor.
Taking advantage of the deep shade, the black-clad men from the inn pushed through the undergrowth, cutting across the woods.
"I still don't understand how any of this happened. I have no idea what to tell Master…"
In the heavy silence, one of them finally spoke up, glancing around cautiously.
Beside him, another black-clad man carrying an unconscious companion on his back let out a short sigh.
"…We tell him the truth. What else can we do? He's not the sort to berate us simply because we failed to handle a single inn."
He said as much, yet his own feelings were no less tangled.
Where on earth had a master of that caliber come from, all of a sudden?
And that master had been a young woman who looked barely past twenty — if even that.
He was still chewing over their defeat when the man on his back stirred with a low groan and came to.
"…Nngh."
"Senior Brother. Are you with us?"
"…If I can hear your voice, I suppose I am."
Tossing off the light quip, the man set his feet on the ground and hastily circulated his inner energy, examining the state of his body.
"Hah…"
Fortunately, aside from a fierce throbbing where he had been struck, nothing seemed seriously amiss.
"…I have no face left to show any of you."
What could one say to a martial artist who had given his all and still lost?
Knowing that clumsy comfort would only make things worse, the black-clad men simply bowed their heads and kept silent for a time.
After a while, the one who had been carrying him broke the stillness first.
"…He claims he didn't step forward of his own accord, yet that party rose as if they had been waiting for the chance. The timing was far too perfect to call coincidence. Could the Tang Clan have brought in outsiders…"
"Enough."
The man cut him off firmly.
"If they had been hired by the Tang Clan, or had any connection to them, do you think we would have walked away in one piece? Besides… after facing her myself, I know. That woman is a master even the Tang Clan could not move lightly."
"A master of that level…?"
When the black-clad men looked at him with open disbelief, he gave a short, dry laugh.
"What, do you think I'm inventing stories because I'm ashamed of being beaten by a young woman?"
"Senior Brother!"
"Absolutely not!"
"How could you say such a thing!"
At their senior brother's barbed joke, the black-clad men hurriedly shook their heads.
And rightly so — the final technique he had displayed in that duel was something none of them could have withstood for even a single exchange.
"…I said it because I can scarcely believe it myself. Don't take it to heart."
With that, the man slowly retraced the scene from the moment just before he lost consciousness.
A supreme technique unfurling amid an explosion of wind.
The woman standing before him without taking a single step.
And himself, collapsing only long after receiving a blow powerful enough to knock him out cold.
Was her speed faster than my own perception?
In all the martial arts under heaven, there is no defense that cannot be broken — yet speed alone cannot be dismantled.
His master's words from long ago rose unbidden, and a bitter expression crossed his face.
Indeed. I was dismantled by superior speed, so the saying wasn't wrong.
He had believed nothing in this world was freer or faster than the wind.
After a deep sigh, he pressed the bamboo hat he still held back down over his head.
"I thought I had built something of substance… but it seems I must start from the ground up again. We still have a long way to go. We should move."
No matter how fierce the wind may blow, how could it halt the stride of a hero who pursues righteousness and chivalry?
Far from stopping, it only sweeps the dust of the vulgar world from one's shoulders.
And once more, the setting sun comes to rest in a gallant heart.
Gazing at the sinking sun beyond the window, Cheong-wol forcibly dragged down the corners of her mouth that kept trying to lift.
"Truly magnificent! If this humble one may dare hope, I too wish to become a splendid chivalrous hero like Lady Cheong-wol!"
Deeply moved by the duel, Ak Seo-a's eyes shone brighter than ever.
"In a life-or-death duel, take them all; in a sparring match, take them one by one! How could anyone utter such words in that situation? Do you prepare a few lines in advance during ordinary days? If so, this humble one must start preparing a handful of my own!"
Listening to all of this, Cheong-wol found herself growing a little embarrassed — but what of it?
The heat of the duel had yet to fade, so she simply grinned.
"Thinking them up ahead of time is useless. The words only come when the moment itself draws them out of you."
"Ohh…!"
In truth, just as Seo-a had said, they were lines she had imagined over and over before falling asleep, picturing a day exactly like this one.
Watching the two of them banter back and forth was pure farce, yet to the innkeeper it was nothing less than a conversation between the heroes of legend.
"Here we are — the food's ready."
With a warm smile, he set dish after dish upon the table, and both women's eyes went wide.
"Haven't you gone too far? We can't possibly eat this much!"
"She's right. We couldn't finish all of… well, we could, but still."
At Cheong-wol's words, Ak Seo-a turned to stare at her in astonishment.
Sure enough, Cheong-wol's gaze was already utterly captivated by the lavish Sichuan cuisine.
"For our benefactors, this much is only proper."
Having said so, the innkeeper turned to the two of them and offered a formal fist salute.
"I had believed that righteousness and chivalry had vanished from the jianghu. But after witnessing the two of you today, I see that was merely my own foolish misconception. This is but a small token of my regard for true heroes. Please — do not refuse it."
At the words laden with humility and gratitude, Ak Seo-a waved her hands.
"The only chivalrous hero here is Lady Cheong-wol. This humble one is merely…"
"You are a hero as well, young lady."
The innkeeper spoke firmly, a smile on his face.
"Was it not you who first raised your voice for this inn? If one who steps forward barefoot for the sake of another is not a hero, then what is?"
Cheong-wol nodded slowly in agreement.
"You said it yourself — those who proclaim themselves heroes are never the real thing. The innkeeper has recognized you as one now, so congratulations."
Looking at Ak Seo-a, whose cheeks had flushed a rosy red, Cheong-wol let the corners of her mouth lift.
"Now you're a real hero."
Before the joy of being acknowledged as a hero could even fade, Ak Seo-a's face drained into pure shock.
She had watched with her own eyes as the dishes filled the table to overflowing — and then kept coming.
And yet, after only a few flicks of the chopsticks, where had all that food gone?
The innkeeper's expression was no different from hers.
Unwilling to slight his benefactors, he had poured every last ingredient into the cooking, fully prepared for leftovers.
But the young woman before him seemed to possess no small mastery of the culinary arts as well as martial ones.
"They say the finest cuisine in the Central Plains comes from Beijing and Sichuan — Grandfather was right. That was truly delicious."
The food must have suited her palate well; Cheong-wol's eyes curved with satisfaction.
Indeed — if it hadn't, how could she have finished so much?
I was worried it might be too spicy for her, but hearing she enjoyed it is a relief.
His surprise lasted only a moment before the innkeeper let out a soft chuckle.
"I'm glad it pleased you. I've prepared a room upstairs while you dined, so please stay the night. Well then…"
Just as he turned to leave with the empty plates, Cheong-wol called after him.
"One moment. There's something I'd like to ask."
"…What is it?"
At the slight seriousness in her eyes, the innkeeper set the plates back down.
"Those black-clad men we saw today — do you know them?"
The question must have been sharper than expected; his hands paused briefly.
"…I wonder what made you think so."
Cheong-wol slowly continued, recalling the moment the black-clad men had first stepped into the inn.
"Your expression didn't look all that startled. How should I put it — it was more like you'd run into something you'd already been expecting."
"…"
"And the way you acted was far too smooth. You barely exchanged a word with them, yet you immediately tried to usher us out. As if that had been the arrangement all along."
As the atmosphere suddenly turned into an interrogation of the innkeeper, Ak Seo-a hurriedly stepped in.
"Lady Cheong-wol, the innkeeper must surely have his reasons…"
"Seo-a. Stay out of this."
Cheong-wol cut her off cleanly, then fixed her gaze straight on the innkeeper.
"I'm not saying this out of suspicion. It's just that there are a few things that don't sit right, and I feel we ought to clear them up."
Faced with a voice that already carried a fair measure of certainty, the innkeeper seemed to reach some resolve. He pulled over an empty chair and sat down.
Then, after a quiet sigh, he looked between the two of them and spoke.
"Since it is a request from my benefactors, I will tell you. But you must never speak of this outside these walls — not within the borders of Sichuan, at the very least. Can you promise me that?"
What on earth was he about to say that required such a preamble?
Growing steadily more impatient, Cheong-wol nodded without so much as glancing at Ak Seo-a for confirmation.
"I promise. I won't speak of it anywhere."
"Very well."
Only after slowly draining a mouthful of water did the innkeeper finally name the black-clad men's identity.
"How to put this… I suppose the fairest way is to say I both know them and do not. Those men in black — they are almost certainly martial artists of the Qingcheng Sect."