Chapter v18c4

Rumble!

The stone door closed behind Yi Si-Geon. He stepped onto the long stairway leading to the world of light, ascending as he had descended, his mind preoccupied with the invisible duel that had just taken place.

“It still lacks finesse!”

Controlling Purple Cloud, as soft and malleable as a cloud, was no easy feat. But power left unchecked would eventually harm him. He had to master it.

“And power!”

He needed more power, power that could rip through steel, yet remained as gentle as a breeze.

He could only be satisfied with having gauged the gap between them today. It was a significant accomplishment to have identified his weaknesses and formulated a plan to strengthen himself, to surpass that man. And he had left a little gift behind, hadn’t he?

He wouldn’t be underestimated anymore. He was not accustomed to being overlooked, and had no intention of tolerating it any longer. That’s why he had revealed a glimpse of his power, even at the risk of potential repercussions.

But what bothered him was Bi’s delayed reaction. He had easily planted his gift, but it felt off.

‘It’s as if he was injured.’

It was too easy, too smooth. He felt a lingering unease. Excessive good fortune could be suspicious, and this wasn’t limited to matters of the heart.

‘But he didn’t show any signs of injury… Could it be…’

He quickly dismissed his suspicion.

“He couldn’t move. Not until my cloud, my Purple Cloud, enveloped him with an invisible current.”

Snap!

Before he could finish his sentence, the hair tie binding his hair snapped, and his black hair cascaded down like rain. The sudden deluge of hair momentarily blinded him.

Crack!

He heard a grinding sound near his bowed head.

“Did he take my head?”

But that wasn’t the end.

Snap!

The expensive jade necklace, his signature piece, snapped, and fell to the ground. He stared blankly, making no attempt to catch the precious jade as it tumbled down the dimly lit stairs. It landed with a loud crack, shattering into dozens of pieces that flew in all directions. He stared at the scene, his eyes filled with shock.

‘I didn’t even sense his killing intent…’

Could he truly claim victory? That man was not to be underestimated. He hadn’t even felt a flicker of movement before a blade was pressed against his head and neck. It was a clear warning.

“Ouch!”

Si-Geon winced as a sudden pain grazed his right cheek. He instinctively touched his cheek and looked at his hand. Blood. A sharp shard had grazed his face. He felt a shudder run down his spine.

“Damn it!”

He cursed involuntarily. He wasn’t good at controlling his emotions. How dare he scar his beautiful face?!

“You’ll regret this, Bi! I’ll strip you of your precious Young Master title! The only one worthy of that title is me!”

He gritted his teeth, vowing revenge. He would see tears of blood streaming down Bi’s eyes. He would see that arrogant man kneeling before him. The mere thought sent a wave of pleasure through his body, a sweet ecstasy that clouded his vision.

“No matter what it takes! I’ll strip him of that title and see his face beneath my feet!”

He vowed again.

* * *

Bi looked at his bare right arm. Si-Geon’s suspicions were accurate. A hideous scar, like the mark of a fierce black dragon, was etched on his arm. The wound was fresh, judging by its vividness. As he stared at it, an emotion other than coldness flickered in his eyes. She had given it to him, her sword. It was a permanent mark, a constant reminder, along with the wound in his heart.

“Is this the price…?”

He chuckled wryly.

“If this is the price I have to pay…”

He paused, looking down at his right palm, stained with blood. He felt its sticky residue. Her eyes, her left eye shedding a red tear, her right eye wide with defiance, flashed in his mind. The curtain he had been using to block out the indelible image of that day suddenly fell away. Disbelief, shock, and despair. The sound of the torrential rain seemed to echo in his ears once more.

“Hmph. If that’s all it takes… It’s too cheap a price… for erasing a life from this world.”

He muttered bitterly, acknowledging the absurdity of equivalent exchange. But when he raised his head, the anguish and turmoil in his eyes were gone.

“Yes, she’s dead! I killed her!”

He declared, clenching his right fist. It was still stiff, not quite healed.

“That girl… the one I met on the beach that day… she’s never coming back!”

He murmured, touching the black dragon-shaped scar on his right arm. It was the same hand that had ended the life of the young man with the false name of Eun-Myeong, and then the life of the woman named Dok-Go Ryeong. But…

“I… have no regrets! None!”

It was the only path left for him. There was no other way.

* * *

Selection

– Uprooted

It is said that people constantly question the morality and character of others. But this endless suspicion isn’t innate. Didn’t Mencius preach that humans are born with four innate virtues? To reiterate, those virtues are compassion, the sense of shame, deference to others – a virtue that seems to be nearly extinct these days – and the ability to distinguish right from wrong. These concepts often appear in the Cheonmu Academy entrance exam, but memorizing them is pointless. Like any theory, they are meaningless until put into practice.

Recently, however, there’s been a growing argument that even this theory overestimates humanity. Given that most people seem to neglect self-improvement, it’s hard to refute this argument. One of the factors hindering human progress is this tendency towards suspicion. Suspicion leads to doubt, which creates limits. Bi Ryu-Yeon was a firm believer in this theory.

“Hyo-Ryong, do you know who humans distrust the most?”

Hyo-Ryong closed the book he had been reading, “The Theory of Useless Secret Techniques” – considered by some to be one of the 108 Cheonmu Academy recommended books that no one ever reads – and looked at Bi Ryu-Yeon, who had asked the unexpected question. His friend (though this was questionable) asked again in a cheerful tone,

“Parents, siblings, spouse, friend, lover, child, or perhaps… an affair partner? Choose one.”

Although he had narrowed down the choices, Hyo-Ryong refused to play along. He was certain that Bi Ryu-Yeon, who often declared that life’s answers weren’t to be found in multiple-choice questions, wouldn’t be so kind as to provide the correct answer in this format. A firm suspicion was no longer a mere suspicion, but a conviction.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Their enemies?”

“Wrong!”

Bi Ryu-Yeon declared.

“No, they trust their enemies. After all, enemies are guaranteed to harm them. Isn’t it simple and reliable?”

“I-is that so?”

Hyo-Ryong found himself momentarily swayed by his surprisingly persuasive argument.

“Of course!”

He stared at his friend. Despite the obscured vision, there was an undeniable air about him. After a long moment of silence, Hyo-Ryong spoke, his voice heavy,

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Perhaps, no, definitely, what he meant by “simple” was swiftly punishing someone with maximum efficiency without hesitation. It was a thought process that baffled an ordinary person like him.

“If it’s not their enemies… then could it be… their lovers?”

Romance had always been a source of trouble since the beginning of time. Bi Ryu-Yeon asked in return,

“Hmm? Hyo-Ryong, are you having trouble with your lady friend these days?”

He wished he hadn’t asked. Hyo-Ryong regretted it, but as always, it was too late.

“N-nothing like that. There’s no problem at all.”

Hyo-Ryong quickly waved his hand in denial.

“I’m enjoying your flustered reaction far too much. What’s the problem?”

He had hit a nerve.

“Well… you see… She has been depressed ever since Miss Dok go disappeared. And I’m just… helpless. I can’t even offer her any comfort.”

Men were generally powerless against a woman’s tears.

“Hmm… I understand how you feel.”

Hyo-Ryong was taken aback by Bi Ryu-Yeon’s unexpected understanding. It made sense, though. Lee Jin-Seol wasn’t the only one who was heartbroken over Dok-Go Ryeong’s disappearance. Na Ye-Rin and Dok-Go Ryeong’s bond was much deeper, stronger, and longer than Lee Jin-Seol’s.

“Anyway, it’s not their lover.”

“Then who is it? Don’t keep me in suspense. The rice will burn.”

Hyo-Ryong surrendered. Bi Ryu-Yeon pointed a finger at his chest.

“It’s me!”

“Hmm? You? Oh, of course! That makes sense. It’s you, after all. Even the title of ‘Public Enemy of the Martial World’ doesn’t do you justice. ‘Enemy of Humanity’ seems more fitting. Hmm, hmm, to distrust you most of all, what a wise piece of advice.”

Hyo-Ryong nodded in agreement, vowing to do just that. Bi Ryu-Yeon shook his head in exasperation.

“What nonsense are you spouting? Do you want to experience what it’s like to be the enemy of humanity?”

“No, thanks. I’d probably get food poisoning.”

Ever mindful of the importance of a healthy diet for longevity, Hyo-Ryong vehemently declined.

“Not me, Bi Ryu-Yeon, but oneself.”

Conveying meaning through words was proving to be quite a challenge.

“Oneself?”

“Yes! Oneself!”

Statistically speaking, the one at the very top of the “Tower of Distrust” was, surprisingly, oneself. Humans don’t trust themselves more than anyone else. It’s truly remarkable how readily they engaged in self-denial. But there were also those who were desensitized to it, finding it unremarkable. Those who didn’t trust themselves were likely to project that distrust onto others, assuming everyone was just like them. Maybe their education was flawed? Some even argued that there was a conspiracy afoot, a clandestine yet widespread effort to instill an innate sense of self-doubt and self-deprecation. The reasoning? It was easier to control and manipulate a population of insecure and self-loathing individuals. Free thinkers were a nuisance.

Apparently, in some far-off Western land, the very foundation of their education was built on the premise that humans were inherently sinful, and any challenge to that belief was met with severe consequences. One carried the burden of their father’s, father’s, father’s, father’s… gasp… let me catch my breath… and their father’s and mother’s sins, passed down through countless generations, embedded within their beings. What made it so cruel was that this sin was impossible to atone for, no matter how hard they tried. And what was this terrible transgression? Stealing a piece of fruit.

Regardless of its origins, maybe human beings learned to embrace self-loathing and self-deprecation as virtues. Perhaps that was why they distrusted themselves above all else. Perpetrating cruel and unjust acts against others was acceptable, after all they carried this original sin, so what did it matter if they suffered? They deserved it. It wasn’t unusual for humans to be oblivious to their inescapable existence.

Once self-deprecation became a habit, people couldn’t even believe it when something good happened to them. Their first instinct was to doubt it, convinced they didn’t deserve such fortune. Instead of praising themselves, they questioned their worthiness.

“Was it really necessary to say all that? What’s the point?”

“Just because!”

Bi Ryu-Yeon’s answer was simple.

“I don’t believe you.”

Hyo-Ryong responded.

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said? Suspicion is unhealthy. It’ll consume your soul.”

“I’m trusting my judgment, honed by three years of living with you.”

“Oh? Judging me, are we?”

“Nonsense! I’m simply stating that I have faith in my own discernment.”

He was stating a fact.

“Tsk, the world’s become so cynical. You’re a fast learner.”

“That’s not…”

Hyo-Ryong stopped mid-sentence. He had picked up a sound.

“Fifteen, no, twenty zhang away?”

The distance was closing rapidly. The footsteps were approaching quickly, the erratic rhythm suggesting that the owner was in a state of distress.

“See? Our test subject is about to arrive.”

Bi Ryu-Yeon said with a smirk.

At their level, they could easily identify someone just by listening to their footsteps, even from a distance.

“Hmm. Should we leave the door open?”

“Yes, that would be wise. It seems he still hasn’t broken that habit of his.”

Bi Ryu-Yeon said, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

“What habit?”

“You’ll see.”

“You can tell his mental state just by listening to his footsteps?

“Of course! A person’s gait reflects their life experiences, you know. And contrary to what people think, the mind and body are not separate entities. The body follows the heart’s desires, and the heart is drawn to where the body leads. Mind and body are interconnected, constantly influencing each other. The more immature a person is, the more their emotions are revealed through their physicality, unfiltered, for the world to see. To have your emotional state so easily read through your footsteps is a sign of immaturity.”

Hyo-Ryong finally understood what he meant.

“Isn’t that a habit humanity has failed to overcome for millennia? Isn’t it a bit harsh to criticize him for not overcoming it in just a few years?”

“That’s it! That’s the point!”

Bi Ryu-Yeon suddenly pointed at Hyo-Ryong’s forehead as if he was about to poke his eye out. Hyo-Ryong flinched, intimidated.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Tsk, tsk, that’s self-doubt! You keep focusing on humanity’s limitations that you lose sight of your own potential. It gets you nowhere. What a waste, to look down at the limits you need to overcome, instead of looking up!”

As Hyo-Ryong silently processed the harsh but accurate criticism, someone burst through the open door, running at breakneck speed. If the door had been closed, he would have broken right through it. It was Yoon Jun-Ho.

Fortunately, thanks to their foresight, the door remained intact.