Keepsakes
Stepping out of the inn into the crisp morning air, the two of them did not reach the entrance to Mount Kongtong until the sun stood high overhead.
Kongtong Martial Arts Guard the Western Frontiers
Gazing up at the stone stele carved with those words, Cheongwol caught her breath.
"We're here?"
"We are. Wait a moment—someone will come."
True to Seomun Hwi's word, it was not long before a Taoist of the Kongdong Sect, clad in blue robes, approached them.
"This humble one is Unhak of the Kongdong Sect. What business brings you to Kongtong?"
As the man introduced himself first, Seomun Hwi returned the courtesy with equal formality.
"I am Seomun Hwi, Young Master of the Seomun Clan."
"I had heard a distinguished guest from the Seomun Clan would soon arrive. So today is the day."
"I am but a junior of the martial world."
At Seomun Hwi's modest reply, Unhak's lips curved into a gentle smile.
"That the Young Master of Seomun has already surpassed the level of a rising dragon is common knowledge throughout the jianghu. And this one...?"
When Unhak's gaze shifted to Cheongwol standing beside him, Seomun Hwi answered as though he had been waiting for the question.
"This is my dear friend Cheongwol. She happens to have business of her own at Kongtong, so we came together."
"Ah, a friend of the Young Master. What brings Daoist Cheongwol to Kongtong?"
Cheongwol seemed to weigh something for a moment, then looked straight at Unhak and spoke.
"I've come to meet someone named Soga-yul."
The instant the name Soga-yul left Cheongwol's lips, Unhak's calm eyes turned sharp as blades.
"Daoist Cheongwol—do you understand what you have just said?"
Sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, Seomun Hwi glanced back and forth between Cheongwol and Unhak.
Who in the world is this Soga-yul, that a man who seemed so kindly a moment ago would react so fiercely?
Yet Cheongwol herself knew no more of Soga-yul than he did.
"If I've given offense, I'm sorry. But..."
She drew a worn, crumpled sheet of paper from her robes and looked down at it in her hand.
"I have to deliver my grandfather's final will to that person."
"Please rest a while. I've already sent word that the Young Master has arrived, so it shouldn't take long."
"Yes. Thank you truly."
"No need for thanks."
After exchanging a brief farewell with Seomun Hwi at the door, Unhak turned his head toward Cheongwol.
"...I did pass along Daoist Cheongwol's words as well, though..."
"I'm grateful even for that much."
When Cheongwol shook her head as if to say nothing more was needed, Unhak answered with a faint smile of his own.
"Should any trouble arise, come down to the hall below. I'll leave word with those there. Then..."
Unhak recited a Taoist blessing and took his leave. Seomun Hwi stared at Cheongwol in sheer disbelief.
The person Cheongwol sought—Soga-yul—was none other than the Sect Leader of the Kongdong Sect.
Not only had she spoken the name of another sect's leader so freely, she had pressed for an audience on the strength of some uncertain connection.
It was fortunate Unhak was a decent man. Had things gone even slightly wrong, they could easily have been accused of deceiving the sect and thrown into an uproar.
And he himself, who had vouched for Cheongwol's identity, would never have set foot inside Kongdong again.
Perhaps she knew it too.
"...I'm sorry."
Feeling she had caused him trouble, Cheongwol hung her head and slipped into the room with a crestfallen face.
"Haa..."
Seomun Hwi's heart had lurched at the thought of nearly ruining clan business, yet seeing Cheongwol so downcast left him equally unsettled.
She had only wanted to deliver her grandfather's will. Where was the wrong in that?
In the end he let out a soft sigh and followed her inside.
Cheongwol sat on the bed, gazing at the worn paper she had shown Unhak with distant eyes—as though trying to hold on to every fading memory of her grandfather.
"Is that the will your grandfather left behind?"
At Seomun Hwi's question she looked up in surprise, as if she had not even noticed him enter.
A moment later, having steadied herself, she slowly nodded.
"...Yes. This is all I have left of him now. There is one more thing he left, but... that wasn't meant for me."
She carefully folded the paper and tucked it back into her robes.
"But I don't think Grandfather ever wanted me to see this."
"Why do you think that?"
"He never mentioned it existed, not even at the moment he closed his eyes. And the contents aren't even finished."
A faint smile touched Cheongwol's lips as she recalled the stern yet endlessly loving face of her grandfather.
"I don't know for certain... but he probably did it for my sake. When it came to worrying about his grandchild, he was terrible at it."
Seomun Hwi's own mouth curved in a smile as he crossed the room and sat beside her.
"And yet you came all this way anyway. Seems you never were very good at listening to him."
"I did give him plenty of headaches."
They were smiling at each other when hurried knocks sounded at the door.
"Daoist Cheongwol! Daoist Cheongwol, are you inside?"
The voice was oddly familiar. Cheongwol flung the door open at once—and sure enough, Unhak stood there, the same man who had left the reception hall only a short while ago, breathing hard.
"The Sect Leader is coming here this very moment."
The Kongdong Sect had originally been an alliance of eight schools that stood upon Mount Kongtong, formed to resist foreign powers.
Flying Dragon Gate, Soul-Chasing Gate, Profound Void Taiji Gate, Cavalry Gate, Life-Seizing Gate, Drunken Gate, Divine Fist Gate, and Painter's Gate.
Under the banner of the Eight Gates of Kongtong, each school offered up one of its ultimate techniques.
In time a single figure arose who mastered all eight arts within one school—Bihongja, the founding patriarch whose name would thunder through the ages.
The alliance shall become one sect, and face its enemies as one.
In accordance with Bihongja's will, the alliance became the single Kongdong Sect. Of the eight ultimate techniques, seven were forged into one martial art.
The Seven Forms Fist.
A fist art that united the energies of seven techniques. The reason one energy was left out was simple: the human body could accept only seven energies at once.
Even so the Seven Forms Fist remained perilous, so Bihongja took the remaining energy and created a sword art for future generations.
That art was the Demon-Subduing Sword Technique, the very style that now represented the Kongdong Sect.
Who would risk their life training the Seven Forms Fist when a sword art powerful enough to bear the name of subduing demons already existed?
Thus the Seven Forms Fist faded into obscurity, overshadowed by the Demon-Subduing Sword—until someone like Bihongja appeared once more, a figure who had awakened the Seven Forms Fist on their own and blazed across Kongdong like a comet.
The Seven Qi Fairy, Soga-yul.
The woman seated before Cheongwol now was the very protagonist of that legend.
"So. You sought me out because of your grandfather's will?"
When Soga-yul's voice filled the room, Cheongwol felt as though her entire body were being crushed.
Soga-yul had drawn up a thread of inner energy and released it, testing her.
"...Yes. I'm Im Cheong-wol."
Yet after a brief moment to steady her breath, Cheongwol raised her own energy and calmly, steadily pushed Soga-yul's pressure back with her own.
"...Not bad."
Sensing an energy she had long forgotten flowing from Cheongwol, Soga-yul withdrew her power and closed her eyes.
"They say fate is something human will cannot command..."
Faced with a bond so tenacious it had sought her out once more, Soga-yul released a deep sigh for the first time in ages.
"You call him Grandfather, so you must be his grandchild. Is that right?"
"It is."
Cheongwol nodded without hesitation, yet Soga-yul's gaze remained unconvinced.
"Then why is there not a single trace of resemblance between you and him?"
Being looked up and down like that might have been unpleasant, but Cheongwol only gave an awkward smile.
Just as the woman said, she and her grandfather shared almost nothing in appearance—so little it was almost uncanny.
"Grandfather always said I was the spitting image of my mother."
"...Well. There's no law that says a grandchild must look like him."
Throughout the conversation Soga-yul had referred to Cheongwol's grandfather only as "that person." Cheongwol asked carefully,
"Um... may I ask what sort of relationship you had with my grandfather?"
At the question Soga-yul looked faintly surprised.
"You did not come here after hearing something from him?"
"Grandfather never said a word. I came because of the will he left behind."
With that, Cheongwol drew a small box from her robes and held it out to Soga-yul.
The moment Soga-yul saw the box glowing with a soft blue light, her eyes began to tremble.
"The will said to deliver this box to a person named Soga-yul of the Kongdong Sect. And if that person was no longer at Kongdong, or if she refused to accept it..."
Cheongwol rested her hand once more upon the lid.
"I was not to open it. I was to throw it straight into the flames, just as it was."