Zhangbai Sect.
The mystical sect of Joseon. A sect so grand that it manages Zhangbai Silver and boasts of being the best under heaven.
They say if you offer tribute at the shrine, something will come in return, and I figured there must be some special items or a formation set up for such occasions. Who would have thought it would be unexpected food?!
The people gathered were utterly speechless in disbelief.
“Even though we’re offering to the shrine, this is quite an unusual tribute.”
The one who broke the silence was Murong Sang-a.
“I get it. When you cultivate in the mountains, you often crave sweets. Even young disciples, when they go down the mountain, are quickest to seek out sweet treats.”
To break the awkward atmosphere that was growing, Qingyun nodded, sympathizing with the herbalist’s words.
“I once stumbled across a good spring while gathering herbs, and when I gifted it to the Zhangbai Sect’s Taoist, they happily gave me plenty of herbs in return. It’s true, I swear!”
As some doubtful glances fell on the herbalist, he panicked and desperately defended himself.
“Everyone is hesitant about this unexpected food, so please continue speaking.”
Murong Sang-a gestured to her subordinates to look away and soothed the herbalist.
“I wanted to repay your kindness, so I asked what you like to eat, and they said they wanted macarons. But what do I know about such things? When I asked again, they mentioned it’s a popular dish in Joseon and that they’d like to try the big macarons.”
“That dish is popular in Joseon?”
“When I inquired later, I found out it’s quite liked. They even joke that the big macarons made in Joseon should be called ‘Makgarong’ since they’re special to Joseon.”
“Is it a dish that men in Joseon enjoy too?”
Murong Sang-a, seeming eager to know more, questioned the herbalist.
“Since even the Taoists living in a mystical sect seek it out, it must be so.”
“I see…”
Food that even Joseon men enjoy. To think it’s a dish that Taoists in the mountains also desire. Murong Sang-a nodded, as if understanding something.
“Master? Is something wrong?”
Great Lord of Spear Peak Murong Pyeong asked, gazing at his master who seemed to be deep in thought.
“No, I was just wondering if we could prepare some food to meet with the Zhangbai Sect’s Taoist.”
Murong Sang-a shook her head and turned to look at the panicking herbalist.
“Yes. As you can see, the village I live in is quite remote, so we can’t possibly make such delicacies. I’ve not set a specific time to visit the Taoist, so as long as we bring something, the chances of meeting them are high.”
Zhangbai Mountain is tall and treacherous. If it’s to repay a benefactor, what is food worth? Murong Sang-a nodded.
Moreover, coincidentally, there was a Joseon innkeeper in the Murong family.
“Let the Joseon innkeeper prepare the offerings for the Zhangbai Sect’s martial artists.”
Qingyun found it curious why there was a Joseon innkeeper in the Murong family and not an innkeeper from the Central Plains, but didn’t bother to ask.
Upon mentioning the Joseon innkeeper, the expression of the Spear Peak band turned strangely dark.
“Chung!”
“Yes, I will leave as soon as the preparations are done with this Taoist.”
“Then do that.”
——–
The training ground in the early evening.
“Food that even Joseon men enjoy…”
Murong Sang-a mumbled as she let her blade hang.
Solving a problem with no clear answer is far more challenging than slicing through the void. For Murong Sang-a, Joseon’s food was like that.
Each year, at the sacrificial altar, she felt anxious every time she offered countless delicacies.
‘How can I not know what my master likes?’
She didn’t even know one single dish favored by her master. Even if she wanted to know, she couldn’t. The Gang family had been exterminated because of her negligence.
“Sigh.”
Would her master even cast a glance her way if she offered the food the herbalist had mentioned for next year’s memorial?
From her beautiful lips, a sigh imbued with unspeakable sorrow escaped, as even the insects hushed to listen.
“Murong Young Miss. You are here.”
“Qingyun Young Hero? What brings you here?”
Murong Sang-a quickly hid an expression she couldn’t show to others, as she asked the approaching Qingyun from a distance.
“Well… I think this is my only chance to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
Qingyun looked at Murong Sang-a with a repeatedly apologetic face before he eventually lowered his head.
“Thank you for hearing me out. No matter how I think about it, I realize it was presumptuous of me.”
Only then did Murong Sang-a understand why Qingyun had come.
When the herbalist had asked for help against the bandits, Qingyun had insisted on going alone, surely a commendable action for any martial artist, but the situation was delicate.
While the Murong family would never allow such things, Qingyun’s willingness to help alone could easily be seen as a slight against them.
It was a matter of face.
“No, thanks to you, I was able to show my subordinates the righteousness of the righteous path.”
Of course, this depended on how she chose to interpret it.
Thanks to him, the martial artists of the Spear Peak band, who were only focused on gains, had a valuable experience. Murong Sang-a shook her head nonchalantly.
“Is that so…?”
“That is indeed the case. Did everything go well with the herbalist?”
Murong Sang-a skillfully redirected the topic to the bewildered Qingyun.
“I plan to leave at dawn the day after tomorrow.”
“I see. I’m scheduled to depart tomorrow for the market that is about to open.”
Murong Sang-a responded somewhat awkwardly.
“Then I should say my farewells now.”
Should she stay a bit longer and be bid farewell, or should she not linger and leave for the sake of the sect? Qingyun did not hesitate much.
With Qingyun’s cool decision, Murong Sang-a raised her brows slightly in surprise before a gentle smile emerged as she lifted her sword sheath.
“…Isn’t it unnecessary to bow in farewell?”
“Pardon?”
“Let’s greet each other with our swords instead.”
Having met with swords and exchanged them, there’s no reason not to part with swords too.
Qingyun smiled and stepped into the training ground.
—
“I will take my leave.”
Even when reaching out, it felt frustratingly far. Despite being the same age, how could he feel inferior? Murong Sang-a, as a junior, was still not quite used to receiving permission to draw first.
“Please, come.”
With permission, the stars began to shine.
The swift swords of the Murong family. A falling star that had beheaded countless captains now headed towards Mount Wudang.
Mount Wudang, unshaken despite many challenges, did not falter against the intensely approaching meteor.
The starlight started to fade. Like a star falling into the sea, the rapidly descending star lost its brilliance in an instant.
The Sword of Wu is the sword of the protector. Even if it’s Eight Trigrams Swordplay, the essence of the Wudang Sect would not change. Murong Sang-a felt as though she was attempting to slice through a sea that could not be cleaved.
“This time, I will go.”
With Qingyun’s words, the flow of the duel shifted.
The calm sea turned into a violent torrent. The Eight Trigrams Swordplay. The metamorphic sword technique was not merely a defensive technique.
The comet, which had been descending towards the sea, was now pushed back. The woman who had faced the Eight Trigrams Swordplay for the first time was flustered and lost direction due to the sudden offense. But that was all a matter of the past.
Dangerous moves should be intercepted when they can be. When it’s tough to handle, one waits. The countless sword paths merged into one, and then she blocked.
There was no longer any impatience in Murong Sang-a’s swordplay.
“I can hardly imagine the skill of Murong Young Miss as I saw the first duel. You indeed surprised me.”
As the skirmish reached a calm moment, Qingyun praised her with a look of admiration.
“That is thanks to you, Qingyun.”
“Sometimes, people easily overlook what they know. I merely unlocked it for you again.”
Qingyun had never felt inferior to anyone in terms of Taoist skills. But as they say, the world is vast.
The woman before him, who felt like a wall, was the same for Qingyun as well. He had to diligently train, lest her rapid progress catch up with him.
“…I have something I want to show you, Qingyun Young Hero.”
As if wanting to exchange heartfelt farewells, Murong Sang-a let her sword hang low.
“Please, come.”
He also wanted to say his farewells. Qingyun nodded.
The stars shone once more. But this time it didn’t charge forward aggressively.
Had she already worn herself out? There seemed to be an opening. Qingyun swiftly switched to offense and aimed for the gap in Murong Sang-a’s defenses.
“Eh?!”
Their blades interlocked. Water mixing with water. Qingyun, surprised by the sudden stalemate, stepped back and looked at Murong Sang-a.
“The Sword of Wu?!”
Qingyun couldn’t close his mouth in astonishment. That move had resembled the Sword of Wu.
Could it be that the Eight Trigrams Swordplay, which was created by the previous sect leader, had been leaked? The Eight Trigrams Swordplay was the sect’s secret. If true, it wouldn’t be something one could take lightly.
“It is the sword of the Murong family.”
Murong Sang-a declared calmly.
Murong Young Miss wouldn’t make baseless claims. As if to say, if you don’t believe me, come and see, she took her stance. Qingyun aimed his sword again at the woman.
With an intense torrent, their swords intertwined. This was not the familiar sword of the Murong family. But it was also not the Sword of Wu.
“Indeed, it is the sword of the Murong family.”
The movement was like a burning meteor evaporating the moisture in the air. Only then did Qingyun feel relieved and nod.
“Is there perhaps a doubt…?”
“Would you like to see my sword once more?”
Qingyun shook his head and responded.
“Come.”
Once again, Qingyun’s Eight Trigrams Swordplay unfolded. Beginning with an offensive stance rather than a defensive one. And this time, it was Murong Sang-a’s turn to be amazed.
“The sword of the Murong family?”
For Qingyun’s Eight Trigrams Swordplay bore a striking resemblance to Murong family’s sword style.
“It is the Sword of Wu.”
This time, Qingyun declared calmly.
“Yes, it is the Sword of Wu.”
Just as she gained insight from her duel with Qingyun, Qingyun too had gained insight from dueling with her.
Though their swords had briefly seemed similar, they originated from their respective sects’ techniques.
Just when she thought she had caught up, Qingyun would leap ahead again. Murong Sang-a nodded, as if saying she couldn’t keep up with him.
“I need to prepare to leave now.”
Leaving behind the regret of their duel, Qingyun sheathed his sword.
“I hope you didn’t feel uncomfortable while in the Murong family.”
Murong Sang-a was not without her own regrets as a martial arts enthusiast, but now it was indeed time to part ways.
“Haha. How could I have felt uncomfortable? Just… ”
“…?”
“I hope next time we can speak freely with each other.”
Qingyun gazed at the heart of the Murong family, gaining a glimpse of understanding but choosing not to speak of it directly.
“If we ever reach a point where we can share secrets, perhaps that will be possible.”
No matter how close they became, there was no need to reveal family matters to outsiders. Instead of outright refusal, Murong Sang-a smiled subtly at her benefactor.
“Haha. Since it’s a matter of the sect, that is unavoidable…”
“….”
Murong Sang-a’s faint smile remained undimmed.
“What?!”
“Be careful.”
Murong Sang-a bowed to the startled benefactor. Qingyun returned the gesture in surprise.
“If fate allows, I look forward to our next meeting.”
Swordsmanship to be perfected outside in the world. The ever-changing sword. The Eight Trigrams Swordplay of Wudang Sect.
With a millennium of martial learning embodied, yet still containing substantial parts yet unrefined—the meteor swordplay of the Murong family.
Being an imperfect technique, they were able to learn from each other as their swords ultimately belonged to one another, growing stronger side by side.
As friends, as rivals, they could sharpen each other.
It was a cheerful farewell for a martial artist.
