The time spent on the ship was terribly monotonous and dull. It was even more so because there was nothing to do. The cabin was so cramped that I could hardly practice my fist and foot techniques, let alone draw my long blade.
The corridor was narrow, and in the kitchen where we went for our two daily meals, the tables and chairs were crammed together.
"This ship is so big, yet the inside is worse than an inn on the outskirts."
Seeing me grumble, Tang Hye-seo shrugged.
"Merchant ships are always like this. Cargo takes precedence over people."
Being a large merchant ship, there was almost no rocking. Still, it wasn't completely calm. It moved gently but ceaselessly.
I didn't get seasick, but it was a constant irritation. I couldn't even circulate my energy, not knowing who might knock on the door at any moment. A knock would have been fortunate.
If the river pirates I'd only heard stories about approached in their small boats and boarded the deck, I might suddenly find myself in a naval battle, something I'd never experienced in my life. I had heard that fighting on water was completely different from fighting on land.
I knew how to swim, but I had never fought in the water. Tang Hye-seo, chewing on some jerky, boasted that such a thing would never happen.
"There are no river pirates in Zhongqing. I've traveled this route to Sichuan many times, and I've never encountered them."
"The only river pirates around here are the Yangtze River Water Fortress, and they only appear after passing the Three Gorges."
On the deck, piled high with cargo, a fierce river wind blew relentlessly, even in broad daylight. Standing there for just a moment would chill you to the bone, so I only went up for a bit of fresh air now and then. Gwang-hyo never left his cabin all day, and the coachman loitered around the crew's gambling table.
I also spent my time idly in the cabin, munching on jerky and talking with Tang Hye-seo.
"You said you were going to Shaanxi to see people from your hometown, right?"
"That's right."
"After ten years... they must have changed a lot."
I found myself looking down at my own hands. They were large and rough. The calluses dotted here and there seemed at first glance to be a mark of a life lived diligently.
But these were not the hands of a farmer who tills the fields, nor the hands of a scholar who holds a brush. When I curled my fingers, they fit perfectly around the hilt of a blade. These calluses were formed from wielding a blade, from cutting the flesh and bone of those caught on its tip.
In a way, they were like the scars left by those who died at my hand. They were no different from a butcher's hands. In fact, they were worse than a butcher's. A butcher doesn't kill people.
Could I continue to live as a martial artist after meeting Sister Soso's family? My eyes went to the long blade leaning against the wall. If I put that blade down, what could I do?
This was the only thing I knew how to do… The vegetables I planted last spring for something to do all withered and died. I had no intention of raising livestock like chickens or pigs.
Feeding them and cleaning up their droppings would be a nuisance, but I was also afraid that if I grew attached to them, my heart would be troubled when it came time to slaughter them for food. And yet, I cut down and killed thugs, murderers, and thieves, people I didn't even know, without a second thought.
I was a martial artist through and through, too far gone to turn back. The last image Sister Soso would have of me was that of a pitiful little kid being dragged away crying by a fake relative. The innocent and timid child of my youth was nowhere to be found now.
The boy who had survived the world's malice and a decade of time had become a skilled killer who wouldn't die easily, no matter where he was thrown. No matter how much Sister Soso and her parents had changed, could they have changed as much as I had?
Whenever I wanted to return to my hometown, I remembered the chaotic nightmares I used to have. Sister Soso, who had been running to greet me happily, suddenly trembles in fear and takes a step back. My hands, outstretched to embrace her, are drenched in crimson blood.
No matter how much I wipe them, the blood won't dry. Perhaps that nightmare could become reality. Maybe it's better to leave memories as memories.
If I didn't know the whereabouts of Sister Soso's family, that's surely what I would have done. But not now. I wanted to meet them, no matter what.
Even if it ended in an awkward catastrophe, I didn't want to live the rest of my life in regret. My heart grew endlessly heavy. My mind was so troubled and chaotic that I could smell blood in the clear tea.
To shake off the heavy mood, I straightened my shoulders and changed the subject.
"Young Lady, what business do you have with the Zhongnan Sect?"
I wasn't particularly curious, but it was the only thing I could ask casually. Tang Hye-seo pondered for a moment before speaking cautiously.
"The Murim Alliance has sent a martial summons to the Nine Great Sects."
"Did the Alliance Leader die or something?"
A martial summons was an invitation used to call the leaders of the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Families, scattered across the Central Plains, to the Murim Alliance. Big shots of that caliber wouldn't move for just any trivial matter.
Something big must have happened, but nothing came to mind other than the selection of a new Alliance Leader.
"No. The Alliance Leader is fine. He's so well it's a problem. It seems there's talk of subjugating the Heavenly Mountains."
"Isn't that what they always say?"
There was nothing better than subjugating dark paths or eradicating the Demonic Sect for the Murim Alliance to build its prestige and show off its power. I was suddenly reminded of the Murim Alliance Inspector, Pyo Hol-deuk. He was active in Gansu with martial artists from the Kongtong Sect before being killed by Demonic Sect opium merchants.
With the Demonic Sect running rampant not only in Qinghai and Xinjiang but also in Gansu, it made sense that public opinion would favor showing them the power of the righteous sects. But according to Tang Hye-seo's explanation, that wasn't it.
"It's not the Alliance, it's the imperial court."
"The imperial court?"
"Apparently, it's quite noisy with talk of conquering the Heavenly Mountains. Probably because all the opium is coming from there. It seems there are quite a few opium addicts in the Imperial Capital as well."
"So they intend to use the Murim Alliance instead of the government soldiers."
The Murim Alliance was a formidable armed group, combining the strongest figures in the Central Plains martial world—the Nine Great Sects, the Five Great Families, and numerous other righteous sects of all sizes.
The reason the imperial court and the royal family tolerated such a troublesome existence, akin to a private army coalition, was to use them at times like this. That was why Pyo Hol-deuk had to eradicate the opium merchants in Gansu, and why the Murim Alliance strike forces rushed to Zhejiang whenever pirates invaded.
It wasn't for nothing that the dark paths called the Murim Alliance the court's dogs.
"The Murim Alliance excluded the Five Great Families from this meeting. My aunt didn't know about it either. The carrier pigeon message mentioned the Mount Hua Sect keeping the Zhongnan Sect in check. The Tang Clan and the Zhongnan Sect aren't on bad terms, so a deal should be possible."
On the fourth day of living in the stuffy cabin without even being able to wash properly, we finally arrived in Gaehyeon. As the merchant ship docked at the pier, a simple gangplank was lowered. Workers swarmed in, loading cargo bound for Shaanxi onto carts.
A piece of cargo was also loaded onto our carriage. It was a lean-bodied sailor who had become sworn brothers with our coachman while on the merchant ship. His name was Jang Tae.
His tanned and wrinkled face looked to be around forty, but he was only twenty-nine this year. He said he was on his way home after ending his long life as a sailor.
"We're heading in the same direction. Would it be alright if we gave him a ride?"
I couldn't help but tilt my head at the coachman's question.
"Do you know him?"
"He's a friend I got close to while playing with tiles. This guy is a real gem…"
The story I heard was astounding.
"So, you're saying you two teamed up during a game of tiles to fleece the other sailors?"
"It was a great match."
It wasn't great; it was a reckless and dangerous act of madness. In a gambling den on land, you could at least slip out a window. On the water, if you were caught cheating rough and fierce sailors, you'd become a water ghost for sure.
And yet, the coachman smiled with a look of rapture, as if the mere thought of it was thrilling. I thought he was normal for someone from the dark path, but the coachman was clearly a martial artist with a warped side.
Even if they would never see each other again, to backstab colleagues they had shared meals with, this Jang Tae fellow was a rotten seed. Of course, the coachman thought differently.
"Isn't this the fun of playing tiles? In a gambling den, the one who gets duped is the fool. We just need to drop him off on the way. It won't delay our schedule."
"Let's do that."
The coachman's plea was earnest, as if he wanted to save face in front of his sworn brother. It was a trivial matter, so both Gwang-hyo and I readily agreed. The large carriage was prepared with the possibility of sleeping outdoors in mind, so there was plenty of room for three or four more people.
Jang Tae didn't get into the back; he went straight up to the driver's seat. He sat next to the coachman, taking turns driving the horses. The coachman came down every two hours to warm himself up.
Jang Tae remained in the driver's seat. Being a sailor hardened by the river winds, this level of cold seemed to be nothing to him. They must have hit it off well, as laughter constantly erupted from the driver's seat.
Jang Tae was in high spirits, thinking of returning home and starting anew after finishing his arduous and dangerous work on the ship. He was so excited that I, too, felt a strange sense of anticipation, just like when I returned to my hometown last spring. Indeed, I was also on my way back to my hometown.
To me, the unfamiliar town where Sister Soso's family and the villagers lived was my real home, more so than the unrecognizable Western Village. The Gaehyeon area was a transportation hub where merchant guilds came and went, so it was quite prosperous. There were many shops and restaurants, and it was lined with inns and brothels.
We stayed the night at a suitable inn and then headed towards Shaanxi. As we moved away from the river, the humidity characteristic of Zhongqing disappeared, and the cold became much more severe. The main road was well-maintained, but inns and houses became increasingly rare.
On the third day, a frost-like powder of snow began to scatter from the cloudy sky. As we rounded the foot of a mountain and crossed a desolate field, thick snowflakes began to pour down as if they had been waiting.
"Wow, the first snow of the year."
Tang Hye-seo exclaimed, reaching her hand out the window. The snowfall was too heavy to enjoy the romance of the first snow. It was practically a blizzard.
Not only the mountains and fields but also the main road stretching before and behind us was being erased in white. We had to find an inn before the snow piled up and blocked the road. We had enough charcoal, so we wouldn't freeze to death even if we parked the carriage on the roadside and slept.
We also had plenty of food and water. The problem was the horses. Once night fell, hungry wolves would gather.
Wolves travel in packs of dozens and hunt collectively. With my and Gwang-hyo's martial ability, and Tang Hye-seo's hidden weapons and poison, we could probably deal with them. But I didn't want to exhaust my precious inner energy just to protect two horses.
Once blood was shed, other animals attracted by the scent would linger all night, looking for an opportunity. If a horse were to die, we'd be stranded here until we could find a new one. To avoid such a predicament, we had no choice but to find a place to stay, be it an inn or a private house.
As the snowflakes grew thicker, the surrounding landscape melted into white.
"I see an inn in the distance!"
With a desperate shout, the coachman cracked his whip to speed up. The place we rushed to, kicking up the snow coiling around the wheels, was a real inn with light seeping through its windows. It looked old, but it seemed sufficient for a night's stay.
The coachman dropped us off in front of the inn and immediately drove the carriage to the stable. Jang Tae looked around, smiled with satisfaction, and gestured.
"I know this inn. It's a place I always stopped at when I came home on leave. I didn't know it was still in business."
Following the light-footed Jang Tae, we entered the inn. In the spacious interior, the only customers were two men sitting around a brazier, warming themselves. One was a martial artist with a cold expression and prominent cheekbones.
The other one didn't have a kind face either. His eyes and lips were swollen from a severe beating, and his hands and feet were tightly bound with rope. A man who appeared to be the innkeeper came out from the kitchen.
"Do you have rooms?"
"We do."
"Give us rooms for each person. The carriage we came in has gone to the stable."
"Very well."
Gwang-hyo went to a table in the back first and took a seat. Jang Tae, who had been silent, asked with a reluctant expression.
"Are you the innkeeper?"
"I am."
"Isn't this the Bright Sun (Yangmyeong) Inn?"
"The owner has changed."
"When?"
"Not long ago."
"Then what about Uncle Yangmyeong, who used to be the innkeeper here?"
"You mean the good-natured middle-aged man with beady eyes and a mustache?"
"That's him."
The innkeeper stared intently at Jang Tae's hopeful face and shook his head.
"He died."
"How?"
After glancing at the two men warming themselves by the fire and at us, the innkeeper replied curtly.
"He was killed by a martial artist."
His tone was utterly indifferent, without a trace of resentment or fear, as if he were simply reading a cause of death written in a document.
"I'll bring tea."
The innkeeper disappeared into the kitchen. Jang Tae looked around the inn with a look of disbelief, as if the man named Uncle Yangmyeong was hiding somewhere to play a trick on him.
Whooosh!
A chilly wind swept into the inn. Outside the window, the snowstorm intensified, swallowing the entire landscape. Tang Hye-seo breathed a sigh of relief beside me.
"If we were any later, we would have been stuck sleeping on the road."
Snowflakes blew fiercely through the open window. I undid the latch and closed it. The inn grew slightly darker.
The innkeeper, with a blunt expression, lit a few more lamps. Only then did the interior brighten. After visually confirming the windows, the back door, the kitchen, and the stairs leading to the second floor, I headed for a table in the back.
Hee-hee-hiiing!
Just as I was about to unbuckle my long blade and sit down, I heard a horse whinny from outside. A moment later, the inn door burst open. Three martial artists covered in snow walked in, exhaling white breaths.
Through the open door behind them, pale snowflakes were being whipped around by the wind. The martial artist in the center raised his hand and took off the wide-brimmed straw hat he was wearing. As clumps of snow fell from it, a sword at his waist became visible between the folds of his black long robe.
Underneath the robe, he wore a blue Daoist robe. A mark more definitive than the plain sword in identifying the middle-aged man was attached to the right sleeve of his Daoist robe. An exquisitely embroidered, brilliant plum blossom.
As far as I knew, there was only one sect whose members embroidered plum blossoms on the sleeves of their robes. The Mount Hua Sect. And it was a mark permitted only to their most elite, the Plum Blossom Swordsmen.
The middle-aged man shook the remaining snow from his hat and surveyed the room with sharp eyes.