Chapter 178: Chapter 39. The Subtlety of Taiji

By the time we neared the guest quarters, the sky had brightened a little. A steady drizzle pattered down, soaking the ground.

“Madam, watch out for that puddle.”

“Worry about yourself, young lady. You’re treating me like some feeble old woman.”

“That’s not it. I just don’t want you getting wet. Walking around in damp clothes feels awful.”

“If I get wet, so do you. You’re clinging to this old woman’s arm, aren’t you?”

Madam Ma answered gruffly, but the corners of her mouth crept upward.

We were chatting as we entered the guest compound when Daoist Taeneung, passing nearby, deliberately made his presence known and greeted us.

“Sect Leader.”

I bowed and offered him a respectful clasped-hands salute. Daoist Taeneung smiled gently.

“Did you both pass the night peacefully?”

“Yes. Thanks to your consideration, I’ve been very comfortable here.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And Madam Ma...”

“This old woman is the same as ever. Don’t trouble yourself over me.”

With that curt reply, Madam Ma pressed the oil-paper umbrella into my hand, walked straight past Daoist Taeneung, and disappeared into the servants’ quarters.

I looked at him uncertainly, but he only smiled to show that it was fine.

“That puts my mind at ease. You did well, Miss Tang. Go inside and rest.”

“Yes, Sect Leader. I’ll do that.”

After another careful farewell, I shuffled awkwardly into the guest quarters.

Through the sound of the rain, I began to hear the distant murmur of Taoist scriptures being recited.

I straightened the damp hem of my clothes and slowly sat down. Cane, which had been sleeping curled into a ball, stretched its hind legs out long before looking at me.

“Cane. Come here.”

At my call, it ambled over, hopped onto my lap, and cocked its head as if asking what I wanted.

“Hey... before you went to the Ghost-Hand Divine Physician, who did you live with?”

“Ki?”

“Your previous owner. Or I guess your owner before that. Were they a martial artist too? Did they also...”

I clamped my mouth shut before asking whether that person had died.

It was a pointless question.

“Kyuu?”

When I stopped midway, Cane blinked its black eyes and scratched at my knee with one forepaw.

“Never mind. Forget it. Want some jerky?”

“Kyuk.”

Smiling bitterly, I fed it jerky and stroked its soft fur.

Maybe it was the weather.

Or maybe it was the sight of Madam Ma’s sorrowful back.

Whatever the reason, my mood had sunk so low that I didn’t feel like doing anything.

But I couldn’t simply waste the day.

After sitting there blankly for a while, I decided I might as well write the replies I had been putting off and began grinding the inkstick.

Trying to empty my mind, I traced one circle after another across the inkstone.

Yet the more circles I drew, the more stray thoughts accumulated instead of disappearing.

The deepening black of the ink began to look like sticky blood clinging to my hands.

The color of a martial artist steeped in slaughter, unable to wash away the stench of blood no matter how hard they scrubbed.

I sighed and set the inkstick down.

The Ghost-Hand Divine Physician’s hawk, which had been sitting quietly in a corner, suddenly fluttered its wings.

“What? You want me to hurry up and write the reply?”

“Ket.”

The hawk answered timidly and started toward me, only to flinch when it saw Cane and curl back in on itself.

“Fine. Just wait.”

I waved a hand at it and slowly unfolded a sheet of paper.

But it was as though I had forgotten how to write.

I couldn’t put down a single character.

Drops of ink fell from the brush and spread across the paper in dark spots.

Watching the black stain creep outward made my chest tighten as though a stone had been placed on it.

...I’ll write it later. It isn’t urgent.

Giving up, I put down the brush and rubbed both hands over my face.

I knew.

The moment I decided to live as a martial artist, death became something I could never avoid.

Even those hailed as prodigies died young. Even those called great masters were dragged into grudges and feuds and lost their lives.

How could anyone be an exception in a world like that?

The death of Madam Ma’s son—the death that had plunged the rest of her life into grief—was probably only one of countless deaths that occurred every day in the martial world.

And because I knew that...

Her pain didn’t feel like someone else’s problem.

There was no reason things would be different for me or the people around me.

We had simply been lucky enough to survive until now.

None of us knew when death would come, or in what form.

A disciple of a great sect and a nameless street wanderer were equal before death.

If someone beside me were to leave someday, could I accept that farewell calmly?

Could I willingly throw away my life for my convictions?

I thought about it for a long time.

No answer came.

...I don’t know.

I had never dreamed of becoming some chivalrous hero, and I wasn’t sure I could live the stubborn sort of life where you burned yourself away just to preserve your pride, like the protagonist of some story.

I wasn’t selfless enough to sacrifice myself for strangers.

Maybe for certain people, but...

“I miss Brother.”

I propped my chin on my hand and pictured my huge, foolish brother.

If Yeon Ryang were here, he would have said something.

His absence suddenly felt enormous.

I worked my lips with a gloomy expression, then slumped forward and rested my cheek against the table.

...I wish Yeon Ryang would come back soon.

I hate being alone.

The steady rhythm of the rain gradually weighed down my eyelids.

I blinked slowly, once, twice, and finally let consciousness slip away.

Chapter 39. The Subtlety of Taiji

Jeokroe swallowed hard as he studied his master’s expression.

His young master looked even fouler-tempered than usual today.

Namgung Hwi, who had been radiating displeasure in silence, tilted his head.

“Jeokroe.”

“Yes, Young Clan Head.”

“I distinctly remember you staking your neck on this.”

Namgung Hwi tapped a finger against the table, then lifted his eyes sharply and bared his teeth in a bright smile.

“Half a year has passed, and you still don’t know where Sohae is. What do you think about that?”

Jeokroe flinched at the chilling smile and hurriedly bowed.

“We’ll find her soon, Young Clan Head.”

“...Haa. I’m the idiot for trusting you. What about the Hao Sect? They haven’t learned anything?”

“No. There’s been nothing since she spent several weeks distributing relief rice north of Jiangling during the winter. She hasn’t withdrawn any money from the banks, either. There were a few sightings in nearby villages, but the woman was supposedly traveling with a Wudang Daoist, so I doubt it was Miss Tang.”

“She got thrown out of her own home, and she’s going around feeding other people? What is she trying to become, some kind of saint?”

Namgung Hwi rubbed his forehead irritably.

Then his face suddenly went pale.

“Don’t tell me she joined a Buddhist order...”

“That’s probably not it. The Tang Clan has been depositing silver into her bank account regularly. She just hasn’t touched it.”

“Right? A Tang Clan martial artist wouldn’t go live in a temple. And it’s not as though she’d suddenly join Emei.”

“Can Emei really be called Buddhist? They chop people’s heads off and call it the Buddha’s grace.”

“Enough nonsense. Then why is there no news of her? Did she hide in a safe house? Or go into closed-door seclusion?”

“It is strange. Unless she buried herself somewhere deep in the mountains, there’s no reason she should’ve vanished this completely.”

Jeokroe scratched his cheek, equally puzzled.

Namgung Hwi fell silent in thought for a while before asking,

“Where did you say she distributed that relief rice?”

“Why do you ask? What are you planning to make me do?”

“Go distribute more in Sohae’s name. Have the Beggars’ Sect spread the word too.”

“Why?”

“Why? You really have to ask? How are you getting more incompetent by the day?”

Namgung Hwi frowned as though the answer were obvious.

“I’m telling you to deliberately impersonate her. If Sohae hears about it, she’ll come looking.”

“Would that really be enough to draw her out? We’d probably have to wreck an entire village before she bothered coming to see the impersonator’s face.”

“Are you planning to spread rumors that another family’s precious young lady is some murderous devil?”

“Yes, yes. Then my head would be the first to roll. Fine, I understand. But what if Miss ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Tang still doesn’t appear?”

“What else? Keep your neck nice and clean, Jeokroe.”

“...Ahem. Right. How long am I supposed to keep the relief effort going?”

“Until the Tang Clan can no longer justify casting her out. Tie the rumors to what happened with the Golden Dragon Merchant Guild. If she becomes more famous than the Poison Hero, even those old men in her family won’t be able to pull anything.”

“Yes. Understood.”

Jeokroe answered meekly, then cautiously broached another subject.

“Young Clan Head. I’m genuinely curious about something.”

“What?”

“What if Miss Tang doesn’t remember you? What if she rejects you?”

“Jeokroe, you have a remarkable talent for saying only things that piss me off.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re not exactly prime husband material. For starters, having four sisters-in-law makes the whole thing look better from a distance than it really—ack!”

“Do you have no ability to learn, or do you just enjoy provoking me?”

Namgung Hwi scowled and laced his fingers together.

After a deep breath, he spoke seriously.

“I owe her. If not for that childish first love back then, I could have died and risen from the grave and still never imagined standing against my father.”

The unexpected answer made Jeokroe look at him anew.

His master had gradually begun defying his father, and lately he had been obsessed with building a power base of his own.

He had reorganized the Azure Dragon Sword Unit under his command and was removing, one by one, those around him who were under the Clan Head’s influence. He had even begun distancing himself from brothers with whom he had once been close.

Such radical moves naturally drew fierce opposition from the clan elders.

Yet Namgung Sang offered no reaction at all.

He merely watched his son in silence.

Jeokroe couldn’t help worrying that this would eventually put the Clan Head and his son openly at odds.

A father and son turning against each other was hardly a pleasant sight.

Suppressing a sigh, Jeokroe deliberately answered in a lighter tone.

“You’ll attach any excuse you can think of, won’t you? Now you’re rationalizing it too? Just admit you want to see how she grew up. This is a serious condition.”

Namgung Hwi silently raised one corner of his mouth.

Jeokroe coughed and looked away, wisely shutting his mouth.

“It isn’t rationalization. She’s the one who gave me the courage to smash the greenhouse around me. Even if Sohae doesn’t remember me, I still have to repay that debt. That’s how the martial world works. But...”

Namgung Hwi’s lips moved soundlessly for a moment before he continued in a subdued voice.

“...Sometimes even I wonder. Father and the rest of my family went to such lengths to deceive me, so she couldn’t have been some illusion... and yet there isn’t even a trace of her.”

“She wasn’t an illusion. I, Jeokroe, saw her clearly with my own two eyes.”

Jeokroe shrugged, then broke into a teasing grin and rattled on without so much as taking a breath.

“Do you have any idea how funny you were when you left Anhui for the first time, fell for the first young lady you met, and threw a tantrum about taking her back to the Namgung Clan? You climbed another sect’s walls every single day just to catch a glimpse of her. Then when you finally went out together, you were so nervous you didn’t even notice a girl with no martial arts getting close to you until she was practically right there... Ah, and I’ll remember for the rest of my life how you suddenly sprinted over to a street stall because you wanted to buy a hairpin to propose with. The desperate look on your face was the best part. And then—”

“That’s enough.”

“See? She wasn’t an illusion. Stop pretending to be so impressive and just admit you still can’t get over your first love—aaagh! Ow! Young Clan Head! Use your words! Aagh!”

A moment later, dull thuds filled the room alongside Jeokroe’s screams.