In the center of the training ground,
a boy was passing beneath a canopy of full-bloomed plum blossoms.
Another boy about his age hurried after him.

“Hey, Cheongu! Where’d you run off to?”
“Oh, Cheongak? You finished training already?”
“Well, I wrap up quick.”

Cheongak and Cheongu—
they’d joined on the same day and, being neither senior nor junior to each other, had become friends.
But the two were quite different.

Cheongak was Mount Hua’s prodigy.
In raw talent, he had no rival in the sect—or so people said.
His promise was famous even before he entered the main sect and received a Daoist name; they’d added the character Gak (Jade Twin) after the generation name Cheon (Heaven) just for him.

“As expected—geniuses really are built different, huh?”
“Hey, don’t lay it on too thick. You’re no slouch yourself.”

Cheongu scratched the back of his head.
Cheongak wasn’t wrong.
Truth be told, Cheongu had hardly ever held a sword properly in his life—
and yet he’d beaten a crowded field to enter the main sect alongside Cheongak.

“Still, how am I supposed to keep up with you?”
“Mm. That’s fair.”

Cheongak puffed himself up and rolled his shoulders,
which only made Cheongu snicker.

“Oh—right. That new sword you ordered—how’s it fit your hand?”
“Man, I owe you one, Cheongu. This thing is no joke.”

The sword at Cheongak’s hip had come from the Silver Road Trading Company run by Cheongu’s father.
Its shape followed Mount Hua’s traditional Plum Blossom sword—
but the material did not.

White Lotus True Steel.
They said there was some secret ingredient and technique involved.
Whatever it was, the blade had the right spring to it, and the tip stayed true.

“Useable?”
“Seriously good.”
“Great. I’ll tell my father the prototype scored high.”
“...Prototype?!”

Cheongak gaped.
Cheongu grinned.

“Well, of course. You think we’d just give you a blade made with that expensive new process?”
“W-what if the sword explodes?!”
“You’ll be fine!”

A vein jumped on Cheongak’s forehead.
Cheongu was ready to run, but—

“Heh-heh. Cheongu.”

There was no escaping Cheongak’s iron grip.

“Ah. I’m screwed—”
“A Daoist shouldn’t use language like that. Right?”

In Cheongu’s eyes, Cheongak’s smiling gaze flashed—
and it was anything but gentle.

“S-spare me…!”
“I won’t kill you. Just a little beating.”
“E-even though I brought incredible news?!”

Cheongak’s fist paused.

“If it’s not incredible, you’re dead.”
“I—it is! For real!”
“Out with it.”
“We…”

Cheongu swallowed.
So did Cheongak.

“We’re getting a junior sister. And she’s insanely cute.”

Cheongak lowered his fist.

****

Great Mount Hua Sect.
Majesty flowing within austere grace.
A plaque that looked as if a master calligrapher of the age had just finished it.
The forecourt thrummed like a market.

Cheongak and Cheongu stood there,
waiting for the teacher who had been away for half a year.

“Hah. When Master gets here, I won’t let him off easy.”
“Cheongak. No matter how strong you are, you’re still not on Master’s level.”
“I know that…”

At Cheongu’s words, Cheongak ground his teeth.
Then his eyes caught Eunsong.

“Ah! There he is!”
“Master! Master!”

Both boys waved.
Eunsong waved back.

“You brats. Managed not to cause trouble while I was gone?”

Just then, Myunggon appeared from behind him.
It meant he was entrusting the girl to the boys and had to come at once.
Eunsong, suddenly pale, handed Cheon Soyak off to Cheongak and Cheongu first.

“Sir? Where are you—”
“These two will take you to your quarters. And see to what you need. I have no choice—Master Myunggon is calling.”

Cheon Soyak looked quietly at Eunsong, then nodded.

“Yes. Go and come back, Master.”
“Right, I’ll be—what did you say?”
“I said, Master.”

Their eyes met.
For a moment, he felt as if time stopped.
For days she had scrupulously called him “sir.”
She had said she would call him Master once Mount Hua accepted her—
but somehow he’d grown used to the “sir,”
and stopped thinking about it.

“Master, hmm? You can just call me Teacher.”
“No. I prefer Master.”
“…All right. As you wish.”

Eunsong’s hand gently stroked her hair.
Cheon Soyak simply stood and savored the touch.

Master.
A word that joins teacher to father.

Perhaps… it was only her delusion.

It was true he had been kind to her these past days.
But to call him not merely teacher—Master, and hold him so?
It might only be the impulse of someone starved of love and care for years after losing her father.
No—almost certainly.

And yet she couldn’t help it.

He had freed her from a maid’s fate.
He had given her a chance to spread her wings in the martial world.
They shared the same wound, and even the goal of vengeance.

He was no longer just a teacher.
He was a teacher—and near enough to a second father.

“Then, I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, Master.”

Myunggon waited until Eunsong finished saying his goodbyes to Cheon Soyak,
then seized him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him off.
It was quite a ridiculous sight.

****

A boy with a half-crooked look, temper likely to match—
yet now he stood there slack-jawed, staring at her.
That was Cheon Soyak’s first impression of Cheongak.

By comparison, Cheongu was very much a gentleman—
plain features, warm and easy-going.
Cheongak was handsome too, but his look was rough.

“Pleased to meet you, senior brother.”

The voice was girlish—
and uncannily, inexplicably beautiful.
Like an underripe fruit at the end of a dry branch,
lonely and alone.

Unfathomable.
He had never met anyone “unfathomable” before.

“My name is Cheon Soyak.”

She offered her small hand first.
Cheongak didn’t manage to take it immediately—
her eyes had caught him,
those measureless, unhindered black eyes.

“Hey, Cheongak. Get a hold of yourself. You’re the senior brother here—mind your dignity.”
“Wh—when did I not mind it?”

Grumbling, Cheongak finally took her small hand.
It was tiny, cool, and soft.
He only let go after Cheongu elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m Cheongu. Nice to meet you.”

Cheon Soyak took Cheongu’s offered hand and shook it.
That was how the three first met.

“All right. First we’ll show you where you’ll be staying. After that we’ll pay respects to Senior Brother Cheonjeong… Training probably starts tomorrow?”
“Likely. We can’t just throw a new arrival straight into drills.”

Cheongak shrugged.
Cheongu nodded and teased,

“Who knows? Senior Brother Cheonjeong might tell you to jump into the afternoon session today.”
“Head Senior? Doesn’t seem like him.”

Both boys looked straight at Cheon Soyak.
She blinked, not understanding.

“You said your name was Cheon Soyak?”
“Yes, senior brother.”
“I’m curious about something.”
“Please ask.”
“How old are you?”

It was the kind of ritual kids go through.
Cheon Soyak answered readily.

“Fourteen.”
“Huh? Fourteen? We’re fifteen!”

Cheongu slung an arm around Cheongak’s shoulders
and murmured low,

“Cheongak.”
“What?”
“Does being a year older make you that happy?”
“Better a junior sister younger than older!”

That much was true—
especially among kids.

Cheongak and Cheongu led Cheon Soyak up to the Third-Generation Hall.
Dusk had already settled over the sky.
On the training ground, boys and girls who had returned from lessons with their respective teachers were practicing hard.

The one who supervised and managed them all was the Head Senior, Cheonjeong—
a sharp-eyed seventeen-year-old,
with black hair tied tight and heavy brows,
an air of native firmness about him.

“Cheongak, Cheongu. You’re back.”
“Yes, Head Senior.”
“Back, sir.”
“Good. Go in and rest.”

His passing glance came to rest on Cheon Soyak.
Cheongak and Cheongu hesitated, then headed into the hall.
Cheon Soyak took off her bamboo hat, held it in both hands, and bowed.

“Third Generation disciple Cheon Soyak greets the Head Senior.”
“No need for that much formality. We’re all near the same age here.”

He said so—
but his eyes didn’t match the words.
Even so, Cheonjeong’s gaze was the kinder one.

The looks from the more than a hundred gathered Third Generation disciples were anything but ordinary.

“You may begin training tomorrow. I hear you’ve come under the same Master Eunsong as I did?”
“Yes. Master Eunsong brought me.”
“I’ll tell you now—the mood in the hall won’t be gentle.”

Cheon Soyak looked around.
Everyone was staring at her.
Not quite with contempt…
more like wary vigilance—
as if a new competitor had arrived.

“…I can see that.”
“Because the One-Branch Gathering is about to be held.”
“And that is…?”
“A series of bouts to select the single most outstanding among the Third Generation, and likewise one among the Second. You could call it sifting jade from pebbles.”

Only then did Cheon Soyak grasp the purpose of the hall—
a place where the Third Generation lived together,
disciples of different teachers deliberately gathered,
so that rivalry and ambition would sharpen each other.

“The disciple who proves to be first will be awarded a Purple Firmament Pellet. It’s the most prized elixir in Mount Hua.”

Only then did she understand the fire in everyone’s eyes.
For a Purple Firmament Pellet, of course.
Depending on how one circulated it, a single pellet could yield nearly half a gap of inner power.
How could it not be coveted?

“I see.”

But Cheon Soyak was indifferent.
A flicker crossed Cheonjeong’s gaze at her barren reply.

“You’re not tempted?”
“It would be good to have. It’s something one would covet.”
“Your voice doesn’t sound like it.”
“It’s just…”

She swept her eyes across the gathered youths.
Not a single one was shorter than she was.
And all of them were glaring at her.

“I only wondered if it was worth turning our eyes to knives at one another over a single pellet.”

With that, she bowed.

“Then I’ll be going.”
“…Very well.”

Neither Cheonjeong nor the assembled Third Generation could take their eyes off the small back walking toward the hall.

At the entrance, Cheongak and Cheongu were waiting—
having heard every word.

“Didn’t the Head Senior tell you to go in and rest…?”

Cheon Soyak tilted her head.
Cheongak shrugged.

“If you’d just wandered off to flop on a bed, the Head Senior would’ve knocked my skull in.”
“Is that so?”
“Cheongak’s right. He might look like that, but…”

Cheongu stared off toward where Cheonjeong was instructing the juniors.

“He’s a bit of a romantic.”

“…He didn’t look it.”
“Give it some time in the grinder and you’ll see Cheongu’s got it right.”

Chapter 8

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