Fate
Jeong-un quietly murmured upon returning to his room.
"'Sword Sovereign', huh."
Martial artists beco famous under such epithets.
Countless characters are used—lofty words like "heaven" and "earth" are easily attached.
Whether people shalessly forge these titles for themselves or have them given by others makes little difference.
In the end, these nas stick because they suit their martial skills and conduct.
In that respect, a simple epithet like "Sword Sovereign" felt distinctly different.
It ant no embellishnts were needed; just with the sword alone, one was the most noble.
That alone carried a certain dignity.
"I've never even seen him."
Strictly speaking, Jeong-un had never even seen the leader of his organization.
He hadn't seen him at the induction ceremony either.
He vaguely recalled the ceremony itself being very modest.
That was characteristic of the Heavenly Martial Hall—belying its renown in the martial world, there were no particular events.
The fact that Jeong-un had t the chief strategist, Zhuge Cheon-woo, was extrely rare.
Most warriors would spend five years seeing nothing but their corps leader's face before graduation.
They rarely encountered the senior leadership.
Yet, the abbot of Shaolin insisted on writing a letter directly to the Sword Sovereign.
Jeong-un considered objecting but gave up. If that's what the abbot needed to feel at ease, it would have been odd to stop him.
And after all, it was only a single letter.
It didn't seem likely to have much impact.
From what Jeong-un knew, the General Affairs Departnt of the Heavenly Martial Hall was strict and impartial in evaluating a mission's success or failure.
Just as exaggerations on one's achievents rarely got anywhere, not even the abbot's personal intervention would overturn a mission's outco.
"No need to make excuses."
He had failed this mission.
He hadn't caught the culprit, hadn't managed to stop Shaolin from losing the item, and hadn't been able to warn the contact Gwak Gyeong to deploy the Sky Net.
Even his assud identity had been blown.
Though each failure had its own reasons, the essence did not change.
He had no wish to drag things out with pitiful excuses.
"Ti to return."
Whatever the form, what was important was that the mission here was over.
That was all.
* * *
Do-un really did bring another iron bell at the break of dawn.
As the first light tinged the sky bluish, a clear bell rang faintly across the heavens, in a way different than when heard up close near the cliffs.
It was a special sound infused with internal energy.
It spread far, dissipating on the chilly dawn air.
After the bell faltered twice in a row, restless common folk could finally rest easy.
Scritch, scritch.
Perhaps because of last night's events, the temple grounds were utterly quiet, even accounting for it being a monastery.
The only sounds were the soft steps of monks preparing for morning prayers, gently filtering through the latticed windows.
Creak.
Jeong-un closed the door behind him, traveling bag slung over his shoulder.
He tidied up his modest breakfast neatly.
He intended to leave imdiately. Rumors would certainly be spreading over last night's happenings.
He wanted to depart without getting caught up in that.
He didn't want unnecessary trouble from curious stares.
As he walked along the corridor, he t the novice monk who had helped with his accommodations.
"......"
Surprised by Jeong-un's now-changed face?
The boy's eyes widened, gazing intently at him, then soon he asked casually,
"Are you leaving?"
At the question, Jeong-un looked gently at the little monk.
Though small and fresh-faced, there was a firmness in his look in one's eyes.
In truth, they'd barely spoken. Still, Jeong-un felt a warm affection.
So Jeong-un replied,
"I stayed comfortably thanks to your attention."
"Go in peace."
The novice monk lowered his head, palms joined in prayer.
Unconsciously, Jeong-un raised the corners of his lips in a small smile and bowed his head in return.
Step, step.
He walked past.
Since entering the martial world, he'd t countless people, even in a short ti.
It was said that even the briefest brush with a stranger was a connection from a previous life.
He would et countless more fates ahead. There was no guaranteeing he'd ever et most of them again.
That included the novice monk he'd just passed. But he tried not to forget.
That was the best state of mind Jeong-un could muster.
As he crossed the threshold of the Hall of Standing in the Snow, Shin Soryeong was waiting for him.
She smiled, her lips curved gently.
"You're leaving."
Jeong-un's eyes widened as he asked,
"How did you know to wait here?"
"It's just coincidence."
Shin Soryeong gave a sheepish laugh before speaking again,
"... To be honest, I ca out a little early and waited. I just had a feeling you'd leave today."
Jeong-un gazed silently at her.
He had considered going to say goodbye first—he owed her many debts during his stay at Shaolin.
She'd looked after him closely.
And yet, even now, he couldn't easily voice his thanks.
How could he?
From the mont they'd t, he'd faced her with a false identity, even being treated as a benefactor.
There was no need to discuss martial world unwritten rules. From a human standpoint, this was well past simple deception.
Jeong-un spoke.
"I am sorry."
"......"
Shin Soryeong regarded him quietly, lips parting slightly as if searching for the right words, but struggling to get them out.
She dropped her gaze for a mont, then looked up.
"For the ti you were here, I was probably the one who watched you closest, wasn't I?"
"... Pardon?"
"Isn't that right?"
What was she getting at? Jeong-un tried to guess but gave up, simply answering honestly.
"That's right. Lady Shin, you looked after attentively. I'm grateful."
"Then I will trust my judgnt."
"...?"
Jeong-un looked puzzled, so Shin Soryeong continued.
"You praised my sensitivity a few days ago, rember?"
"That was no polite lie because of my assud identity. I ant it sincerely..."
He really had said that.
It hadn't been empty words—Shin Soryeong's natural talent for sensing ki was truly outstanding, regardless of her current martial skills.
Jeong-un saw her as soone who, with a little guidance, could hone those senses to a formidable level.
Shin Soryeong nodded.
"After hearing that, I was deeply excited. Being praised by a peerless warrior like you... Lately, I'm greatly enjoying my training in martial arts. It's all thanks to you."
"But why bring it up now..."
If even a small word of his helped, that was a good thing.
But he couldn't guess why she was ntioning it now.
Shin Soryeong smiled faintly.
"I've decided to trust the senses you praised. My instincts assure —you are not a bad person."
"What do you an—?"
"Young hero."
Her clear eyes t his.
"May I ask your real na?"
Her gaze drifted to Jeong-un's clothing—a black martial garb he'd finally pulled from his bag.
Only then did Jeong-un realize he still hadn't revealed his true identity to Shin Soryeong.
That, too, was a kind of rudeness. Having deceived her all this ti, even now he hadn't given his na.
'I should have told her right away.'
Jeong-un regretted briefly, then perford a martial salute as he answered.
"My na is Yu Jeong-un. I'm not from Baek Sword Gate, but belong to the Blue Scale Corps of the Heavenly Martial Hall. I ca here solely for my organization's mission. It was all part of that. I apologize, once again."
There was nothing more to add. He had clearly used Shin Soryeong for his advantage.
Through her, he'd quickly beco acquainted with the heirs of prominent clans and easily gleaned information about Shaolin and its Assembly.
"No wonder she's upset."
He couldn't deny it—he had deceived her from their very first eting until just now. Whatever his motives, those were his own concerns.
He would understand if she didn't accept his apology. She might consider it a deep insult to her clan. Jeong-un was prepared to accept that, with no excuses.
As he bowed his head slightly, Shin Soryeong's voice sounded in front of him.
"I know your na, benefactor."
"...?"
Looking up, he saw her watching him, her look in one's eyes clear and resolute.
"You showed my clan the path to walk, and at the bell ceremony, you didn't just save , you saved everyone."
"That was—"
"On behalf of my clan, thank you, benefactor."
She bowed deeply, completely contrary to his expectations.
"......"
Jeong-un stared blankly. His mind replayed images of Shin Soryeong looking out for him during his stay here.
'... Yes, this is what she's like.'
He tried to say sothing several tis but stopped.
Anything he said would have felt awkward. So he bowed his head in return.
Then, as they lifted their heads, Shin Soryeong said,
"When you graduate from the Heavenly Martial Hall, please, do visit. I'll be soone who'll surprise you."
"I promise I will."
Jeong-un answered gravely, and Shin Soryeong smiled in response, nodding.
* * *
He went straight for the main gate.
Jinmu, who had shown him to the Hall of Standing in the Snow, now ca to see him off.
Shaolin was a vast monastery. Even on the way out, Jeong-un passed several abbots.
Everyone knew what had happened last night, yet no one said a word. They simply offered a respectful nod as he passed.
"So there really aren't any begrudging people here after all."
Jeong-un recalled what the abbot had said. In hindsight, it had just been modesty.
Shaolin's monks truly asured up to their reputation for self-mastery.
Scritch, scritch.
The sound of feet on the dirt echoed faintly.
Unlike before, Jinmu said nothing this ti, simply walking a few paces ahead as his escort.
Thus, Jeong-un crossed the threshold of Shaolin's mountain gate.
Jinmu bowed in a martial salute from inside the gate. Jeong-un also bowed his head, signaling farewell.
Crrrrk.
The gate swung shut without hesitation.
Jeong-un turned away from the imnse Shaolin gates.
Ssssssh—
In that mont, the mountain wind stirred his robes.
The misty dawn that clung to Mount Song's slopes dispersed simultaneously.
As the clouds broke, pure rays of light poured down vividly.
Standing alone in that sunlight, Jeong-un glanced around out of unconscious habit.
A beautiful sight.
Even soone dull to emotion would have found so aning in it.
"......"
aning, huh.
Jeong-un muttered.
In the end, it was just another mission completed.
He was no naïve boy who'd expect the road ahead to be smooth just because the weather was clear as he stepped out the gate.
Besides, he'd failed this mission.
He didn't even know what to say upon returning.
That was his own verdict.
Suddenly, he thought of that man.
"So it really was the Demonic Cult."
The man had promised they would et again.
He'd left all sorts of cryptic talk of spirits and such, but in the end, what stuck most in Jeong-un's mind was that one phrase.
'... Yes, let's et again.'
So Jeong-un recited quietly, and slowly stepped down the mountain path.
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