Chapter 80
After Unyeong had joined the Murim Alliance, not long after, word came that Sichuan was in danger.
At that time, the Murim Alliance was still in the midst of reorganizing. Most of the branch members across the provinces had been recalled to headquarters, leaving only minimal personnel behind.
In Sichuan, there were the great sects of the Nine Great Schools—Mount Emei Sect and Qingcheng Sect—as well as the Tang Family, one of the Five Great Noble Houses. Of the three major powers, it was unclear which one Heaven’s Palace was targeting. Their movements followed no predictable pattern.
“I will go to Sichuan.”
When she heard the news, Unyeong left the Murim Alliance with only those words.
The thought that she must go to the Tang Family moved her.
After leaving the Huangshan Hermitage, she had once gone to Sichuan—but had not sought out the Tang Family.
At that time, Unyeong suspected that her mother might have been from the Tang clan, but she did not consider that reason enough to meet them.
But upon hearing that Sichuan was in danger, she realized the truth—she had avoided them out of fear.
Fear of hearing from them that she did not belong.
孤孤單身 (utterly alone). She had always been by herself. Yet she had comforted herself with the thought that she was not alone, because her mother’s kin still existed somewhere.
So she had to go. She had to seek them out, ask them directly, and help them.
“Nachal. You mustn’t go.”
It was Namgung Hwi who blocked Unyeong’s frantic path.
“I must go.”
“You cannot.”
“I must! I must go! My mother’s family is there! I… I have to meet them.”
“Nachal. Get ahold of yourself and listen to me. I’m sorry to bring you such news, but… it’s already too late.”
“Too late? What do you mean too late?”
“The Tang Family has fallen.”
“No… no! That can’t be. Why? Why the Tang Family… why them of all people?”
Unyeong screamed and wept. For the first time since leaving Huangshan, she cried aloud, unable to restrain herself.
“…Were there any survivors?”
Only after some time did she manage to ask, regaining a little composure.
“The commoners of Tangjia Castle were evacuated in advance, but…”
Namgung Hwi trailed off, struggling to continue.
“Say it. I can take it now. I’m ready to hear it.”
“The Tang Family of Sichuan chose to resist to the death—all branches, main and collateral alike. They shattered themselves like jade in that place.”
“Ha… Ha ha. And what did that honor gain them, that they chose death? Broken like jade—who will even remember them now?”
Unyeong muttered with empty eyes.
“The Tang Family of Sichuan defended Sichuan itself.”
“What of Heaven’s Palace? Their losses?”
“The young palace lord, Ma Cheonhu, led ten divisions of warriors. He was gravely injured, two Guardian Elders were slain, and over five divisions were wiped out.”
“…Ma Cheonhu. Ma Cheonhu. Again, that bastard… ha ha.”
Grinding her teeth, Unyeong repeated his name.
She had heard from Yeo Haesin that it was most likely Ma Cheonhu who had orchestrated the bloody massacre of the Seol clan. Now both her paternal and maternal families had been destroyed by him.
“That bastard… I will kill him.”
“Yes. You will kill him.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“Yes.”
Unyeong swore again and again that she would kill Ma Cheonhu, and Namgung Hwi answered each time that she must.
Years later, when Unyeong came to be called the Demon of the Flowering Sword (Hwaryong Geomgwi), an elderly man appeared before her.
Half of his face was scarred by fire, and where his right leg should have been was nothing but empty space. In a voice like iron scraping, he asked:
“Are you the Sword Demon?”
“That is what they call me these days.”
“Then take this sword.”
Unyeong accepted the sword he handed her and slowly drew it from its sheath.
A chilling blue aura ran along the blade. Truly, it was worthy to be called a peerless sword.
When she infused it with energy, the sword let out a mournful wail. The sound was like a woman’s scream, strangely stirring her emotions.
She sheathed it again and pushed it back toward the man.
“I have no reason to accept your sword.”
“I will give you a reason.”
“Very well… let’s hear it.”
“When you kill that wretched Ma Cheonhu, use this blade.”
“…What?”
“I want him dead, but I lack the strength. This is the greatest work I ever forged.”
“You’re a blacksmith, then?”
“I am.”
“What did Ma Cheonhu do to you?”
“He took my wife and daughter hostage… forced me to forge weapons for him. For ten years.”
“…And them?”
“I learned too late… they had already been dead for ten years.”
“…So that’s why this sword cries.”
“Will you accept it?”
“…I will.”
“Thank you.”
The man once more handed the sword to Unyeong, and she received it solemnly. As he turned to leave, she stopped him.
“Where are you from?”
“S-Sichuan. Tangjia Castle. Born and raised there.”
“May I know your name?”
“…Why do you ask?”
“So that when Ma Cheonhu dies by this blade, he will know whose sword killed him.”
“…Sa Se-hwang.”
“I’ll be sure that bastard hears your name.”
“…Thank you, truly.”
That was the end of their short encounter. But the sword he gave her remained with Unyeong until her last day.
Birdsong. Ppia-yak, ppia-yak.
Unyeong woke to the cries of birds.
“…Damn dream.”
Rising, she wiped her face with both hands. Dreams of the past were always unbearable.
Yet they also reminded her of what must not be forgotten.
“Sa Se-hwang of Tangjia Castle. I must bring him here.”
Sa Se-hwang—a master craftsman.
The Heaven’s Palace warriors she once struggled against had all been armed with weapons forged by his hand.
“To win, the best way is to weaken the enemy’s strength.”
Unyeong smirked as she muttered.
Ppia-yak! The bird cried again, as if to agree.
“I don’t know if I’m just hearing what I want, or if you truly understand me. Well, either way, it doesn’t matter.”
Stretching her body, she threw open the window. With one more task added to today’s list, she had to move diligently.
“Here, drink.”
Seol Wonpyeong pushed a cup of tea toward her with a kind smile.
“Thank you, Grandfather.”
“Yes, yes. Drink.”
Unyeong sipped, wetting her lips. She had sought him out with questions in her heart, yet it was hard to bring them to her mouth.
“This old man is ready to listen.”
Seeing her hesitate, Seol Wonpyeong spoke first.
“W-what do you mean?”
“You must have something to say, or you would not have come so early in the morning.”
“…Yes, Grandfather.”
Exhaling slowly, Unyeong finally spoke.
“Mother… I want to know about my mother.”
Her gaze lowered, her voice careful.
“Yes. I thought someday you would ask this.”
“…Yes.”
“There is no need to be so cautious. A child yearning for her mother is only natural. Even if you never saw her face, how could that longing not exist?”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
At his words, her eyes grew hot. She clasped her hands tightly to hold back her tears.
“My child, why did you come to me first? There were others who could tell you more about your mother.”
“…I couldn’t ask Father or my nursemaid.”
“Why not?”
“Whenever I spoke of her, they looked so sorrowful.”
“I see… Yes, that would be so. But it was not for you to bear. It was foolish of the adults to make you carry their grief. How pitiful.”
His eyes darkened with anger.
“N-no, it’s just… I felt it would be best to hear from you, Grandfather.”
“There is no need to shield those foolish ones.”
“…Yes, Grandfather.”
“When your father was twenty, he went on a long trading journey. There, he met a gentle woman. But… fate did not align for them at that time.”
He sighed softly before continuing.
“When he returned home, your father married Dojin’s mother. She was a kind-hearted woman. But when Dojin was four, a plague swept through Hong’an. The poor child caught the disease.”
Seol Wonpyeong looked out the window with a heavy sigh.
“Dojin’s mother nursed him night and day… and in the end, she too caught the plague and passed away.”
“B-brother…?”
“He does not know. And you must pretend not to know as well.”
“Y-yes. I will.”
Looking at her lowered head, he sighed once more. He had long known this truth must someday be told, but feared the wound it might leave.
“The next year, your father brought your mother here. To be honest… at first, I did not look kindly upon her.”
“…Why?”
“When she came, carrying you in her womb, she was already gravely ill. As a father, my first concern was my son. He had already suffered the loss of Dojin’s mother, and now again…”
He coughed heavily, steadying himself.
“But I could not hate her. Your father was truly happy by her side. That I could see.”
