Fabre in Sacheon's Tang-Chapter 145: Love (7)

The Sword Queen swiftly masked her initial shock, her keen eyes carefully scrutinizing Ji-ryong.

Her gaze moved from Ji-ryong’s shoes to her clothing, then to the simple ribbon tying her hair, and finally to the broken sword in her hand.

She was likely assessing whether Ji-ryong had spoken the truth.

The shoes and training robes provided no indication of her status as a princess. She had worn them specifically for training, after all. Her hair was tied back in a plain knot, revealing nothing about her identity.

But then, her master's eyes landed on the broken sword hilt.

The moment she saw the countless embedded gemstones, Ji-ryong heard the unmistakable sound of a dry gulp.

Gulp.

After a long silence, her master finally spoke.

“Is this... really? No, is it truly so?”

She seemed thoroughly shaken.

Ji-ryong had only just become her disciple, not even half a day had passed.

What if her master decided to rescind the decision? What if she was cast out before she had even begun?

Panic seized her.

In desperation, Ji-ryong picked up the broken blade and pressed it against her neck.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёnovelkiss.com.

“If you intend to take back your word or abandon me, I—I will take my life right here!”

But her master was no ordinary martial artist.

She was the Grandmaster of Botaram, the leader of the Sword Pavilion, a woman known to have reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

Clang!

Before Ji-ryong could even react, a single flick of her master’s blade sent the broken sword flying from her grasp.

For a brief moment, hope slipped from her fingers.

She wanted to learn the sword.

She needed to learn the ascendant sword arts that suited her.

She longed to split the twilight, the darkness, the moonlight—just like her master.

But now, that hope seemed to be slipping away.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“I... I just want to learn the sword... so badly...”

If only she weren’t a princess.

Then, she could learn freely.

Ji-ryong couldn’t stop the sobs that burst from her chest.

She cried uncontrollably.

For a while, her master said nothing, simply watching her.

Then, in a quiet voice, she finally asked:

“Why do you want to learn the sword so desperately?”

“...I don’t know.” Ji-ryong sniffled, her voice trembling. “Ever since I first picked up a sword at six years old... it became my everything.”

There was no grand reason behind it.

Since the moment she had first held a sword, it had consumed her every thought.

Was there anything more joyful than swinging a sword all day?

Her master nodded slightly.

“Then, I would like to hear your story.”

It wasn’t a rejection.

It wasn’t abandonment.

She wasn’t being cast out.

Ji-ryong’s eyes widened, and without hesitation, she launched into her tale.

She started from the beginning—how it all began when she saw the sword at the imperial guards’ waists.

By the time she finished her story, the night had passed, and the first light of dawn was rising.

Her master gazed at the morning sun, then slowly drew her sword and placed it on Ji-ryong’s shoulder.

“Perhaps this, too, is fate.”

She sighed deeply before making her decision.

“Very well. When I first met you, I thought perhaps the Buddha himself had sent you as my successor. But instead, I will accept you as my secular disciple.”

Ji-ryong trembled.

In Botaram, disciples were not taken from outside the Buddhist faith.

Yet, her master had made an exception.

“Botaram has no secular disciples, but I will make an exception for you. While we do not interfere in the affairs of the martial world, your status as a princess will no doubt create complications... But I will manage them somehow. However, you will need to handle the imperial family yourself.”

She was being accepted.

Ji-ryong could hardly contain her emotions.

“Th-thank you! Thank you so much!”

And so, under the pretense of completing a hundred-day prayer ritual, she remained at the hermitage, secretly training with her master every night.

The hundred days passed in the blink of an eye.

On the day of their parting, her master spoke.

“You are fast—faster than I expected. You have mastered the forms and essence of the One Hundred and Eight Temple Sword, the Prajna Bodhi Sword, the Great Compassion Thousand-Hand Sword, the Great Compassion Thousand-Mile Sword, and even the Seven Absolute Demon-Subduing Sword in just one hundred days.”

“It’s all thanks to your teachings, Master.”

“No.” Her master shook her head. “It is because you are exceptional. The only regret I have is that, because you are a secular disciple, I cannot pass down the ultimate technique of the Sword Pavilion—the Eighty-Four Thousand Bodhi Demon-Subduing Sword. That is unfortunate.”

Ji-ryong’s breath caught.

She had already learned so many extraordinary sword techniques, but now she was hearing about the greatest among them—the one reserved only for the true heir of the Sword Pavilion.

As she made her way back to the palace, her mind was filled with only two thoughts.

She needed to continue training under her master.

And somehow—somehow—she would become her master’s successor.

***

“And so...”

Creeeeak.

Tsrrt?

“Dad?”

Just as the princess was reaching the climax of her story, the sound of the door creaking open interrupted her.

Bini’s curious voice followed.

Even though Hwa-eun was outside, waiting with them, the children must have grown impatient.

I turned to the princess and asked cautiously,

“I don’t think they’ll stop interrupting. Would it be alright if they stayed inside? I could move some chairs to make room.”

She observed them for a moment before nodding.

“These creatures really do follow you well. Alright, do as you wish. It’s not as if they will go around spreading my story.”

With that, I made space, allowing Bini, Cho, and Yohwa to settle near me.

As soon as the three clung to my side, the princess chuckled softly before continuing.

“Now, where was I?”

“You had just decided to become your master’s successor,” I reminded her.

“Ah, yes. That’s right. So, upon returning to the palace, the first thing I did was inform the Emperor that I had become a secular disciple of Botaram.”

I barely managed to keep a straight face.

Wait... she just told him outright?

Most people would have agonized over how to hide it or find a way to maneuver around the issue.

But she had simply walked up to the Emperor and said it.

This princess is terrifying.

She carried on as if it was nothing.

“At first, the Emperor was a bit puzzled when I told him I became a secular disciple to learn swordsmanship. But after hearing from the commander of the imperial guards and witnessing my skills for himself, he was absolutely delighted...”

***

“So, if the princess has become a secular disciple of Botaram, it means that her exceptional talent has been recognized by the martial world.”

“That’s correct, Your Majesty. The Nine Great Sects and other martial sects do not take in disciples unless they are truly outstanding. Furthermore, Botaram is known as a reclusive sect, one that does not accept secular disciples. Yet they have broken their own rules to accept the princess. That alone proves just how remarkable she is.”

The Emperor chuckled heartily.

“Hah! Then I shall reward Botaram for taking my daughter as a disciple! I will send them a golden crown, a thousand sacks of rice, and silk—no, since it is a monastery, I shall donate one thousand bolts of broadcloth so the monks may weave their robes.”

Ji-ryong felt relief wash over her.

At the very least, she had managed to repay her master in some way.

With the imperial court settled, she moved on to the next task.

The following morning, she invited the commander of the imperial guards to sit with her for tea.

“Commander, I have something important to discuss with you today.”

“With me, Princess?”

“Yes. It’s regarding Botaram.”

“Ah, I see. I understand.”

Her master may have thought she had no teacher, but in truth, the commander of the imperial guards had watched over her since she was six years old.

He was the only one she could truly confide in.

“In truth, my master wishes to make me her successor.”

“...Successor!?”

The commander’s eyes widened in shock.

As someone who had once been part of the martial world, he understood what it meant to be the heir of Botaram.

“No, I am still a secular disciple,” Ji-ryong clarified. “But my master regrets that I am a princess. Otherwise, she would name me her successor without hesitation.”

“...I see. That must be frustrating for you.”

Ji-ryong nodded.

Frustrating wasn’t even the right word.

Her obsession with the sword went beyond mere frustration.

“But becoming a successor would require me to take vows. And there is no way the Emperor would allow that.”

Botaram did not require monks to shave their heads, nor did it forbid marriage.

Even so, it was still considered a form of monastic life.

And there was no way the Emperor would permit his beloved daughter to become a monk.

Ji-ryong, however, had already made up her mind.

She smiled mischievously.

“Yes. But instead of 出家 (becoming a monk), I will 出嫁 (get married).”

“Wha— Cough! Cough!”

The commander choked, nearly spitting out his tea.

He wiped his beard, looking utterly bewildered.

“I—I apologize, Princess. But what exactly are you planning!? You know the Emperor would never approve of you taking vows!

And if things go wrong, it could bring trouble to Botaram as well. It could bring disgrace to the master you have already sworn loyalty to!”

He was clearly worried that the Emperor would be enraged and retaliate against Botaram.

But Ji-ryong wasn’t talking about becoming a nun.

“When did I say I would become a monk? I said I would get married.”

“...Excuse me? Marriage?”

That’s right.

Ji-ryong had no intention of taking monastic vows.

She intended to marry.

There was a reason behind this plan.

Botaram was located on Mount Putuo (普陀山) in the Zhoushan Archipelago (舟山群島), Zhejiang Province (浙江省).

To get there, one had to take a ship from Hangzhou (杭州).

Her idea was simple.

She would marry a man stationed in Zhejiang Province, frequently travel to Mount Putuo under the pretext of visiting her husband, and once he passed away, she would formally join the Buddhist order.

After all, there was precedent—many princesses throughout history had turned to Buddhism after losing their husbands.

“A political marriage, then? A pretense?”

Ji-ryong nodded.

“That’s why I need your help. Can you find me a man who won’t live long? Someone with an incurable illness, perhaps?”

The commander’s white hair seemed to turn even whiter.

“So, you’re telling me that the commander actually found someone who was both terminally ill and—wait, let me get this straight—also eunuch-like?”

“That second part wasn’t my idea!” Ji-ryong stammered, flustered. “The commander insisted! He said that even if things went wrong, no one would doubt my chastity...!”

I barely contained my laughter.

“...But then why are you here instead of Hangzhou? I thought you wanted to go to Zhejiang?”

“Ah! This is where the important part comes in!”

As she continued, I realized that Ji-ryong was truly insane when it came to swordsmanship.

She had gone so far as to arrange a fake marriage just so she could train.

No wonder the Governor had been so reluctant to even mention her “husband.”

As I shook my head in disbelief, she continued.

“I requested the Emperor to appoint my husband as the governor of Zhejiang, but for the first time, he refused.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because Zhejiang is a major trade hub. A lot of money flows through Hangzhou, and the court ministers fiercely opposed appointing an inexperienced man like Binak as the governor.”

It made sense.

Zhejiang was too important to be handed to some random noble with no experience.

“But the Emperor also couldn’t completely ignore my request, so he made a deal with me.

If my husband proves his worth here in Akyang, then even if the ministers protest, he will grant my request.”

Ji-ryong sighed.

“So now, I’m stuck here for two or three years, waiting for him to prove himself. But that means I can’t see my master in the meantime.

That’s why I have to do something.

And the best opportunity I have is dealing with this ‘black bug’ crisis. If I handle this well, I can petition the Emperor again and have my husband reassigned to Zhejiang.”

Now I understood.

The princess was already married, but her husband was a terminally ill man who wouldn’t live long.

She needed to get to Hangzhou as soon as possible to see her master, but that required making a major contribution first.

The black bug infestation was the perfect opportunity.

“You’ll help, won’t you?” she asked, smiling. “You’re obsessed with venomous creatures, and I’m obsessed with swordsmanship. Surely, we understand each other?”

I nearly choked.

Understand each other? Not even close.

As I struggled to process the sheer absurdity of her plan, Ji-ryong suddenly clapped her hands.

“Oh! I just remembered! Do you only like venomous creatures, or do you have an interest in spiritual beasts as well?”

“...Spiritual beasts?”

“Yes! If you help me, I might be able to give you one.”

“What kind of spiritual beast?”

My interest piqued.

Ji-ryong grinned.

“It’s supposedly a Huali. But I haven’t seen it myself. My master mentioned it in a letter.”

“A Huali?”

Shaaa!

Before I could say anything, Yeondu popped out of my clothes, eyes wide with excitement.

Of course.

Yeondu wasn’t just eating Huali for sustenance—he was eating them out of habit.

It was possible that he had once been a Divine Mystic Serpent before losing his form.

If he could regain his strength, he might be able to return to ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ his former self.

I smirked.

“Princess, you were right. We do understand each other perfectly.”

Ji-ryong beamed.

“I knew it! So, what should we do first?”

“Feed the Governor.”

“...Excuse me?”

“I once read a book where a king swallowed a locust infestation so his people wouldn’t suffer.

So, let’s do that.”

“...Are you insane?”

I scratched my chin.

“Who was that king again? Solomon?”

My knowledge of history was a bit shaky.