Chapter 49: Rival Friends Meet on a Narrow Bridge (4)

“...Cheon Soyak.”

The sound of the name gave one corner of his memory a sharp poke.

It was a name he’d heard somewhere before.

But he couldn’t recall it clearly.

Ak Jupae brushed it off like it was nothing.

He’d lived forty-seven years—how could he not have heard a name like that at least once?

The very idea that a man could remember everyone he’d ever met was nonsense.

Had there been a name like that among the blasphemous criminals he’d executed?

That was even harder to remember.

After killing them, he forgot them more easily.

Even within the Alliance, they prevented the name of a beheaded blasphemous criminal from spreading.

A social death.

They wanted them to be forgotten in the martial world entirely.

“Have you heard that name before?”

“The sound is familiar, but I can’t remember where I heard it.”

“Ah, I see. I hope it’s a name you heard through a good connection.”

The gate guard, apparently convinced the Flame-Saber Lord wasn’t going to split them in half and burn them, loosened up and grew chatty.

Ak Jupae had no intention of scolding them for it.

He was the sort of man who couldn’t even remember the names of those he killed.

And despite that, he still intended to take vengeance for his child.

What a contradictory sight that was.

‘So I’m unfit to dream of the Transformation Realm.’

Even if you sought enlightenment, even if you embodied it and fulfilled the Way, it was a difficult realm to reach.

Ak Jupae was certain.

No matter how much he regretted his past deeds.

No matter that his own son had died after burning even an innocent village to death.

If he met the one who killed that son, he would lose his reason.

He was, in the end, an irredeemable villain.

Far from generosity, far from compassion...

A man who couldn’t accept that he was merely receiving his karma returned to him, and instead sharpened his blade.

Just as that thought reached its end, the gate guard who had gone up earlier came back down, stepping through Lightness Arts.

For a branch-family disciple who’d settled into guard duty, it was a respectable level of skill.

“Thank you for waiting. I apologize. They say you may enter.”

“Good work. When your shift ends, have a drink.”

Ak Jupae pressed a couple of silver pieces into each of their hands and started forward.

Even then, he still didn’t know.

That small girl whose name sounded familiar—

was the very one who had slaughtered and beheaded his son.

*****

There was no need to depart at dawn.

If you traveled for no reason, you were bound to run into bandits.

Following Eunsong’s advice, Soyak, Cheonjeong, and Cheongak decided they would leave later, once the sun climbed high overhead.

There were things they needed to prepare in advance.

“Soyak. Did you pack everything?”

“I only need to carry one blade.”

“You still need clothes.”

“...Ah.”

Soyak blinked, then slipped straight back into the room.

Cheonjeong chuckled under his breath.

When it came to martial arts and martial learning, she was sharp as a blade—

yet the moment it turned into travel, she kept making mistakes that weren’t like her at all.

“Cheongak. What about you?”

“I’m already packed, Head Senior. Look.”

Cheongak hauled out a bundle that, at a glance, looked about as big as Soyak herself.

These damned kids didn’t seem to understand the concept of moderation.

Cheonjeong lifted his Black Iron Sword, still in its scabbard...

and brought it down on Cheongak’s crown.

CRACK!

“GAAAH!”

“Cut it down. Bring it back one quarter this size. Understood?”

“You could just say it—just say it!”

“When have you ever listened when it was only words?”

He had nothing to say to that.

Cheongak, too, hoisted the massive pack and slipped back into the room.

Considering that inborn sturdy frame and physique of his...

yeah. Honestly, the weight itself wasn’t the problem.

But carrying too much baggage made you a target.

Because people always tried to steal from those who had just enough to be stolen from.

A boy and a girl carrying a big load, with no escort and no adult—

nothing more than perfect prey to rob and bury.

A glance out the window showed Eunsong sitting beneath a large tree.

Something was draped over his arm.

He didn’t look like he was urging them on.

If he had been, he would’ve come into Ahwa Hall from the start.

“...Head Senior.”

Soyak’s voice.

Cheonjeong turned to look at her.

It was better than before, at least.

She’d come out with a bundle about the size of her tiny head.

“What did you pack?”

It would be filthy for a grown man to rummage through a girl’s clothes.

Instead of opening it, Cheonjeong chose to ask.

“I packed a few changes of clothes. And a comb to brush my hair...”

“Good. Wait. Cheongak still hasn’t come out.”

After that—about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea—

Cheongak finally emerged with a bundle of reasonable size.

Cheonjeong let out a breath of relief.

“See? You can do it when you try. You should’ve done that from the beginning.”

“Hmph. Let’s just get going already, Head Senior.”

“Fine. Soyak—did you say goodbye to Cheonhwa?”

They had come out of Eun Byeok’s quarters.

Now they would have to live in Ahwa Hall again.

For the past few days, Soyak and Cheonhwa had been living together...

but now Soyak would be gone, and Cheonhwa would be left alone.

“Yes. Since Cheonju was worried about Cheonhwa being left all alone in a big room, I also attached a bell-string that connects to Cheonju’s room.”

“Well done. It might be a bit noisy... but Cheongu, who shares the room, agreed to it, so it’ll be fine.”

At that moment, another door opened.

It was Cheonju.

“...Head Senior. Are you really going?”

“What do you mean, really? It’s only two or three months.”

“Please return safely.”

“Fine. While I’m gone, you’re the Head Senior, Cheonju.”

Cheonju’s eyes widened.

It wasn’t wrong.

Among the Third Generation disciples who shared the Cheon name, Cheonju’s standing was the highest after Cheonjeong’s.

“Then I’m counting on you to look after Ahwa Hall.”

“I’ll do my best.”

*****

Near the training ground at Ahwa Hall.

Under the shade of a large tree.

Eunsong sat there, watching the three disciples as they crossed the training ground toward him.

Cheonjeong, walking in the middle, stepped forward and offered a fist-and-palm salute.

“Master. This unworthy disciple Cheonjeong, along with Cheongak—and Soyak as well—have finished preparing.”

“Good. Take one of these each.”

Eunsong accepted the greeting with a small gesture, then handed each of them a set of clothes.

A black outer coat.

Tough, sturdy, and quick to dry.

“Outside Shaanxi, the name of a young Mount Hua disciple can attract people who want to hunt you.”

“...Is that so.”

“It is. And Mount Hua’s martial uniform is made for Mount Hua’s weather. Wear these. It will cover the plum-blossom emblem, so you’ll just look like you’re wearing a plain white uniform, and it’s tough, sturdy, and dries well, so it’ll be useful no matter the weather.”

One for Cheonjeong, one for Cheongak, and one for Cheon Soyak.

A journey that could be as short as two months, or as long as three.

For a coat this tough and sturdy, one was enough.

“You will go to the Shandong Ak Family.”

Eunsong said it softly.

But worry clung to his eyes.

“The Shandong Ak Family is divided into the main house and branch houses. Go to the main house and deliver this.”

Eunsong held out something wrapped in a black cloth.

Cheonjeong stepped forward and accepted it—and the cold weight was heavy enough to make him flinch.

“What is this, Master?”

“A spear blade.”

The Shandong Ak Family was a line that had preserved spear arts since Ak Bi.

Though, unlike the Divine Spear Yang Family, they had never entered the ranks of the Five Great Clans...

the Shandong Ak spear’s powerful, swift downward strikes were not a martial legacy to be taken lightly.

“A spear blade...?”

Cheongak tilted his head.

There was no one at Mount Hua who used a spear.

And even if there were, why would only the spear blade be wandering around here without the shaft?

“Yes. Long ago, the previous head of the Shandong Ak Family entrusted it to us. We should’ve returned it, but there was trouble in the Shandong Ak Family at the time, and they forgot. We didn’t even know it was in our storeroom.”

“So you found it now.”

“We had it appraised, wondering what it was, and it turned out to be the Ak Family’s. I suppose it’s time to return it.”

Cheonjeong nodded and slung the bundle more securely over his shoulder.

Only then did Eunsong brush himself off and stand.

“A Roaming Pillar Journey should, by nature, have no destination—but you three are not like that. Still, I cannot give you travel funds, because I cannot destroy its essence.”

Soyak, Cheongak, and Cheonjeong all nodded.

But Eunsong was not a man whose thoughts stopped there.

“However. To a martial artist, a blade is life. If you travel with only one, you can’t prepare for the moment it breaks.”

“...Ah.”

Cheonjeong’s eyes rounded, as if he understood at once.

Soyak was the same.

Cheonjeong had the Black Iron Sword, which meant his Plum Blossom Short Sword would remain.

Soyak had even more—Falling Blossom Tranquil Edge, the sword Eunsong bought her, and the issued Plum Blossom Short Sword.

Cheongak had the sword he received from the Silver Road Trading Company, which meant his Plum Blossom Short Sword would remain as well.

Thankfully, all of them could carry two swords each.

“...You’re right. We’ll need spare swords, Head Senior.”

“What are you saying, Soyak? Your swords are—”

“Cheongak. I would like you to be quiet.”

Black pupils that stared straight through him.

Cheongak clamped his mouth shut.

She was shorter than him, and far smaller in build...

but the chill in those eyes scraped along the edge of instinct and sounded a warning.

If he opened his mouth again, she would make him shut it—even if it meant settling it on the sparring stage.

“Doesn’t your master worry? Then, disciples—each of you, bring one more sword.”

“Yes. Understood.”