So So Namgung nodded calmly.
It was a bizarre situation.
While death wasn’t madly terrifying, all living beings instinctively struggle for life.
It’s instinct.
Yet, now, hearing the quiet death sentence merely steps away…
“Don’t you feel anything?”
“…Yeah.”
“You seem to have grown more mature.”
“There’s no point in lamenting. It won’t change anything.”
That was it—nothing particularly shocking left her speechless. She just felt that way.
Perhaps it was because she had more or less anticipated this all along.
Still, there was something that lingered in her mind.
A small, lingering regret.
Gloomy thoughts filled So So Namgung’s inner feelings.
“Venerable monk.”
“What is your request, layperson?”
“I… There’s nowhere else for me to go, so…”
She seemed ready to unburden herself.
Namgung So So’s lips moved feebly.
“While I’m still alive, could you listen to my story?”
A decadent voice filled the small room.
*
If I were to reminisce about my childhood, I couldn’t possibly say it was full of happiness—even if it seems ungrateful to say so from the wealthiest and most comfortable family in the land. Happiness isn’t something material wealth alone can fill.
My mother was a woman filled with ambition.
Her greed and longing made her view myself and my second elder brother, Bin Namgung, merely as tools for achieving her goals.
Our father was a dissolute man. Moreover, he had little interest in his children and was prone to throwing punches at the slightest provocation.
He was so reckless that the household staff nicknamed him the “buffoon head of the family.”
My second elder brother, Namgung Bin, was quite unremarkable.
Born with a rather timid disposition, his lack of self-worth, cultivated in the neglect of both parents, only exacerbated his issues.
The relationship between myself and my second elder brother was frosty. Being aloof and unable to empathize with others, we couldn’t help but drift apart.
However, in the otherwise disgraceful Namgung household, there was a ray of light.
My eldest brother, Namgung Cheolbin.
Even though we shared different mothers, my eldest brother always maintained a positive aura.
He always had a bright smile and treated even the humblest servants with respect and courtesy.
I always felt at ease in his presence, as if a hollow corner of my heart was filled.
However, my eldest brother’s circumstances were not enviable in our family.
A son of a concubine and the eldest by age, his position was certainly precarious but impossible to completely ignore.
Eventually, my mother began making life difficult for both my eldest brother and his mother.
My father, for reasons unknown, vented his anger on my eldest brother regularly.
I still remember clearly those days when I would pray for his safe return each time my father took him somewhere.
One time, my eldest brother returned with a long scar on his face.
Although he couldn’t recall how the wound appeared, I think I have a pretty good idea.
Despite enduring such events, my eldest brother remained undimmed in spirit.
He exuded an even brighter aura and continued to bring joy to others.
I adored him immensely.
He was the only one who gave me what no one else in the family did—love.
Therefore, I began to revere him.
As time passed, after the tragic demise of my father and the vacancy of the family head position, neither my eldest brother nor the second elder brother sought the position.
Both lacked the ambition. Although, Bin Namgung has changed quite drastically since then.
A few years later, when the family’s power structure was uncertain and swaying, my eldest brother brought a woman home. This woman was Jin Jee-Ok Yeop, known in the Hua Mountain Sect as Sword Flower.
I truly believed this was a cause for celebration and blessing.
My eldest brother was a magnificent person, and Sword Flower—a widely renowned beauty—was an outstanding individual.
Although both the Hua Mountain Sect and the Namgung family opposed their union, the two had already developed deep feelings for each other by then.
Ultimately, my eldest brother, Sword Flower—now my elder sister-in-law—sealed their vows and had a grand wedding.
Up until that point, it seemed everything would turn out all right. With the violent father gone, I believed all matters within the family would proceed smoothly.
Peace would come to the household, and favorable winds would blow.
But who could have known?
That I, myself, was not well.
As mentioned earlier, no one in the family was close to me.
While my eldest brother and second brother’s retainers fought for power, I lived cautiously caught between their schemes.
And my eldest brother was the ray of light in my world.
I waited patiently each day for my brother’s practice to end. When he disappeared from my days, I would worry ceaselessly.
That’s how I spent my entire life.
Have you realized it yet?
Yes, my eldest brother was more than just blood to me.
He was a teacher, a friend, a guide, and a mentor. He was salvation, a companion, a father, and a mother.
And when my eldest brother met a lover and decided to leave my side, it was a great tragedy.
My eldest brother had two children with his wife—bright and adorable nephews.
But I couldn’t properly care for them. Strange feelings would arise within me when I looked at them.
Even though I knew I should not have been entirely dependent on my eldest brother, I was deeply troubled.
It was as if I had already ventured too deep into the mire of Namgung Cheolbin.
Consequently, I fled the Namgung family in a desperate attempt to escape.
And I sought refuge in the distant and unfamiliar Hanga Sword Sect, discarding the martial arts of Namgung that I had been practicing all my life and learning anew the sect’s martial techniques.
All to avoid thinking about my eldest brother.
Because I had to forget the enormous presence he had in my life.
However—
Not long after, a colossal war broke out.
A war filled with swords and axes, bloodshed, and screams.
As a righteous martial artist and a member of the Seven Flowers, I was inevitably drawn into this war.
And there, I met him.
Despite the changes in his demeanor and the situation, I could never have mistaken him.
My eldest brother, Namgung Cheolbin—once not a particularly strong warrior in my memories—was now one of the greatest martial artists in the world.
But, with great power comes great responsibility?
Everyone sought out my eldest brother for salvation. Everyone looked to him for help.
He did not abandon them. Moving swiftly and efficiently, wielding breathtaking martial arts, he traversed across various fields of battle.
And foolishly, I trailed behind him.
As if trying to soothe the loneliness from my years at the Hanga Sword Sect spent without him.
Helplessly, I followed his every step.
I knew. That was overstepping. Acting beyond my rightful place.
My abilities were far from those needed to keep up with him.
He was always embroiled in massive fights, confronting unheard-of martial artists with bizarre techniques from all over the mainland.
Compared to him, I was at most a peak master, one of the Seven Flowers—a relatively famous novice of sorts—and nowhere near sufficient to accompany him.
Thus, I began to practice diligently. The cultivation of innate energy, which I had never felt the need for in the past—”controlling innate qi.”
Innate qi is not something to be recklessly used, yet I had been able to wield it since childhood for reasons unknown.
Though innate qi endowed immense power, before the war, no need for such strength arose. However, as I followed my eldest brother through the trials and tribulations, it became imperative.
Moreover, I practiced various unconventional methods.
The handling of concealed weapons, the use of poison, and the merciless execution of opponents—these were methods taboo for any righteous martial artist but necessary for me. The only way to avoid falling behind my eldest brother.
Eventually, I succeeded.
Throughout the past ten years, I had clung stubbornly to my eldest brother.
During this time, it was easier since Elder Sister was not often present by his side.
My eldest brother performed admirably everywhere, as you’re aware.
Countless cultists fell at his sword, and he annihilated Blood Demons. He ended the war.
I was the supporting character at his side.
It was a cruel and brutal era filled with the stench of blood and carnage, yet strangely, it was the happiest period of my life.
Afterward, the war ended, and we parted ways once more.
I had to transform from “Colleague” Namgung So So back into “Hanga Sword Sect’s Plum Blossom” Namgung So So.
And my eldest brother had to return from “Sword Sage” Namgung Cheolbin to “Clan Head” Namgung Cheolbin.
Since then, it was a ceaseless series of difficult days.
The stifling loneliness I had almost forgotten resurfaced. I struggled to reconnect with anyone in the Hanga Sword Sect, as I had been so deeply influenced by my eldest brother that it was no longer possible.
I became frustrated. Why did I have to endure such a life? Why couldn’t I have a normal one?
My misplaced anger surged. Why had I abandoned the prosperous Namgung family to join this insignificant sect?
My practice suffered. I could not maintain my composure and felt restless every day. My mind was chaotic.
Even peak masters shouldn’t be affected by mere colds, but I often fell ill. The physicians said it was a malady of the heart, and so I attempted to focus even more on my cultivation.
At this time, strange rumors began circulating.
Unbelievable stories that my eldest brother was a hypocrite.
They were rumors too absurd to believe.
Though people compared him to our previous clan head, Father, I knew differently because I had witnessed him since youth. He was utterly unlike Father.
I despised them. To add to everything, why were they slandering our hardworking eldest brother?
I understood their anger.
The war was long, and almost everyone had lost someone dear. The deep-seated hatred and resentment in their hearts were not without reason.
But why did it have to be directed toward our eldest brother?
Pretending to be drunk, I once killed a few of those impudent slanderers. Their insolence against Namgung Cheolbin angered me.
However, as time went on and evidence and witnesses emerged, doubts began creeping into my mind.
No, it wasn’t doubt. It was a delusion created by myself, driven by my selfish desire to step out from under his shadow.
A vain desire to forget him and reclaim my own life.
Among those times, when I heard he had been expelled from the Namgung family, I briefly thought, “Perhaps this is my chance.” A truly despicable thought.
It was an egoistic choice. To abandon the eldest brother who had enlightened me for a fleeting desire was disgraceful.
Unforgivable if I weren’t so ignorant or foolish.
I am neither ignorant nor foolish. I committed this wrongdoings, and when I finally met him again after years, I spat out harsh words beyond measure.
A sharp dagger that I had no right to plant.
And now, I regret. I yearn to undo it.
I know someone like me doesn’t deserve him.
Hence, I have only one wish.
An apology.
I want to convey those five syllables, burdened with my sincerest remorse, though it is now impossible.
“…That concludes my story.”
“Master Layperson…”
“It’s a tale tarnished with youthful mistakes and regret that can never be reversed.”
Namgung So So’s long narrative came to an end.
It was a lengthy exposition spanning nearly half a watch.
Outside, dusk had already blanketed the world.
“Do you understand why I’ve told you this, venerable monk?”
“….”
“Didn’t you say you would retreat with Mr. Jin and retire from martial arts?”
“Umm….”
“I understand your inner demons because I know you are burdened by them. Still, I have a piece of advice.”
The monk slowly raised his head.
In his hand, he held a carefully poured water pitcher.
“Please don’t let regret consume you like it has me.”
“Though your words carry weight… I understand your sentiment, but….”
“By retiring, you cut off all ties within the martial world. It’s a social contract.”
Namgung So So took the water pitcher and drank, refreshing her parched throat. Still, her mind was uneasy.
“I cannot partake in the martial world anymore.”
“You choose not to participate.”
“One word is worth a thousand pieces of gold.”
“Sometimes, there are things more valuable than gold in this world.”
She wiped the water from the corners of her mouth as Namgung So So spoke.
Her face was heavy with remorse.
“You always preached that we must save the pitiful sentient beings.”
“Master Layperson.”
“Even though he is one of the strongest warriors in all the land, the Sword Sage remains human. He’s an unfortunate sentient being unjustly bearing a false accusation.”
“….”
“As death draws near, it’s this moment I regret the most. Why did I turn my back on my brother? I should not have done so. How could I forsake justice and seek false peace due to mere emotions?”
“…”
“Venerable monk, please help. I earnestly plead with you. With your name and strength, you can play a significant role in clearing my brother’s name. I’ve entrusted all the documents and information I’ve gathered to you.”
As if hurriedly making a final testament, Namgung So So pleaded intensely.
“This isn’t unjust. This is the karmic debt I deserve. All I ask is that you don’t become like me. This plea isn’t about me or our brother. I fear you’ll succumb to regret too. I see you already wrestling with inner demons.”
“You’ve always preached compassion—Mahayana Buddhism that strives to relieve suffering, unlike the focus on individual cultivation in Hinayana Buddhism.”
“I understand. Breaking from retirement and entering the martial world will cost you dearly. People will label the monk of Shaolin a hypocrite.”
“But can a man who holds both the precepts of retirement and compassion truly abide in stillness if he turns away now? You possess the strength to break these bonds but choose not to out of boredom.”
“Others may rest easy, but not you. If I were to pick the most ethical person I know, you would contest first place with the Sword Sage. You, the most moral man in all the land, cannot find peace when faced with this.”
“Venerable monk, it’s not too late. The Sword Sage lives, and so do you. Neither have condemned souls like me. Your time to act is now, and you’ve yet to commit a sin.”
“If Shakyamuni were to observe your situation, what advice would he give? Contemplate this deeply.”
“Please, do not become like me.”
Finishing her speech, Namgung So So shed transparent tears.
Her emotional, heartfelt appeal stirred the monk’s heart.
“Plum Blossom Master Layperson….”
“You might think I burden you unnecessarily….”
“…”
“Yet, it’s advice for your own sake. A warning against leading a meaningless and transient life like mine…”
Namgung So So’s voice gradually diminished.
Her neck rested fully against the pillow, signaling she lacked the strength even to lift her head.
“To apologize… but unable even to do that… isn’t this final moment… utterly pitiful…?”
With those words, Namgung So So’s voice faded away.
Her closed eyes streamed with lifeless tears, though they gradually diminished.
“Amitabha….”
Bowing his head, the monk clasped his hands in prayer.
It was the respectful Buddhist gesture for those who had passed to eternal rest.
“Would the Tathagata prioritize promises or justice…? To reflect upon this…”
Faced with the lifeless frame before him,
For a long while, the monk was lost in deep contemplation.
“Regret and inner demons…”
Only when the pale dawn faded and morning arrived did he finally rise.
