In the end, Imoe died.

It had been only two shichen since Seolhwa arrived.

The poison that had manifested kept devouring his body by degrees, and because no one could identify what it was, an antidote couldn’t even be sought.

That was what the Second Blood Lord’s poison was.

An antidote unknown to the world—his personal, singular toxin.

You know someone is dying, you watch, and you can do nothing.

A cruel poison.

“...”

Seolhwa kept vigil at Imoe’s side as he passed as if drifting into sleep.

The funeral would be held as soon as dawn broke, but Seolhwa and Namgoong Mucheon had to return to the Namgoong Clan before that.

The Hao Sect Lord had urged that they hurry back, and they had only managed to put it off for a single night.

Srrrk—

When the deep night had thinned and first light was about to rise, the door slid open.

Heavy footsteps came, thud. Thud.

They stopped behind Seolhwa.

It was Ilryong.

A long silence stretched.

At the end of it, Seolhwa’s lips barely moved.

“...I’m sorry.”

The answer to that came only after a long while.

“...What is the Union Lord sorry for?”

“I shouldn’t have kept you bound to my side.”

Sambong—and now Imoe as well.

They were targeted because they were close to her, the Sado Union’s Lord.

Ilryong, Imoe, Sambong had not died at this time in the previous life.

By right, fate had allotted them a few more years than now.

That fate had been altered because she kept them near.

“If you stay by me, your lives will go on being threatened. So...”

“Imoe didn’t know how to read.”

“...”

“What chance would a man born a slave have had to learn letters? Then he even lost his tongue—he must have been stifled.”

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t write.

Until then, the only way Imoe could communicate had been his hands and his body.

“You were the one who made it possible for a man like that to learn to read.”

Beyond teaching the three of them martial arts, Seolhwa had made them study and learn many other things.

A small hall though it might be, they needed to manage it systematically and not be looked down on by their own.

For strong Ilryong—steady martial training.

For even-tempered Imoe—how to handle documents.

For quick-counting Sambong—how to manage the Black Cloud Hall’s stores and manpower.

“You’re the one who made us human. How could we ever resent you, Union Lord?”

She was the one who took in three men who had thought they would spend their whole lives running.

Who taught them.

Who planted a goal.

How could they resent her?

Rustle.

Ilryong set a sheet of paper on the bed.

In somewhat crooked letters, it said:

[I have forgotten the past. I like the Union Lord. Other than my big brother and Sambong, she is the only one who has treated me like a person. I want to live for her.]

“The Jade-Faced Master said this: if we wanted, he’d let us find the ones who cast us out and take revenge.”

The fishermen who tried to steal Ilryong’s boat.

The ones who framed Imoe.

The ones who drove Sambong to the edge of a cliff.

“But to do that, we would have had to empty the Black Cloud Hall.”

It had happened when Seolhwa was taken by the Blood Cult.

Ilryong had discussed it with his two younger brothers, and this was Imoe’s answer.

Thud—

Ilryong dropped to his knees on the floor.

His huge frame trembled small.

“If you order us to die, we die. If you order us to fight, we fight. We three brothers swore to give our loyalty to you, Union Lord...! So...!”

“You lot aren’t worth a chance to repent. If you were going to regret it, you wouldn’t have done wrong in the first place.”

“Red Dragon Sixteen-Stage Ilryong reports to the Clan Lord!”

“From now on, there’s work to be done on the Black Path. Problem is, there’s no one I can trust. I think it’d be good if you three helped.”

“...”

“If it goes well, I could even get you a seat as an elder in a Black-Path sect with a few hundred under you.”

“I’ll do it!”

“...!”

“We will!”

“We just have to win! If we bring down the Iron-Blood Hall, doesn’t that solve everything? The subordinates will love it too!”

“We owe our lives to you more than once. So now, if our lives hang on you, Union Lord, that’s fine.”

“That wasn’t Trace Venom.”

“We really... huh...?”

“That was probably tanghulu.”

“...Huh?”

“I will bear Imoe’s resolve in my heart and swear my loyalty. My lord.”

“...”

“So... please don’t tell us to leave...”

Kk-heu-uk...

Ilryong’s sobs grew more ragged.

Ha...

Seolhwa tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling where faint light was seeping through.

She clasped the hands resting on her knees, hard.

‘I’m the one who twisted their fate.’

But the path one chooses within that fate is not hers to choose.

They will advance by their own will.

The past had changed, and they had chosen to change as well.

Lives once filled with flight and betrayal were overturned by their own resolve.

“With you here, I’m at ease.”

Seolhwa drew a clean cloth from her breast.

She folded the white cloth embroidered with blue hydrangeas into a long band and gently laid it over Imoe’s eyes.

“From here on as well... I’ll count on you.”

****

Just before leaving the Sado Union, Seolhwa looked back at the Union’s black-hued main lodge standing stark beneath the dawn sky.

Namgoong Mucheon walking ahead of her, and the Hao Sect Lord and Ryeong following behind her, also halted.

The Hao Sect Lord stepped up to Seolhwa.

“Did you forget something?”

Seolhwa shook her head.

“Not something forgotten—something lost.”

For an instant, her gaze went cold.

“Sect Lord.”

“Say the word.”

“Look into the Jade-Faced Master.”

The Hao Sect Lord, a bit surprised, asked back.

“The Jade-Faced Master?”

Seolhwa nodded.

Ilryong’s words rose in her mind.

“The Jade-Faced Master said this: if we wanted, he’d let us find the ones who cast us out and take revenge.”

What is the Blood Cult?

A place whose purpose is to repay grievance and resentment with blood-soaked vengeance.

When she had emptied the Sado Union, it was strange that someone had deliberately approached the three brothers and tried to lure them into leaving the Black Cloud Hall just to pursue revenge.

‘Ilryong, Imoe, Sambong crossed from the ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Green Forest to the Blood Cult in the previous life.’

There must have been a clear trigger for them to become Blood Cult men then, too.

If that trigger had been this very time—

“His origin, his associates, his recent movements—every last detail. Find out all of it.”

“Understood.”

“And...”

Seolhwa turned to go.

“See to Imoe’s funeral—properly.”

****

Namgoong Mucheon and Seolhwa returned safely to the Namgoong Clan.

The people of the Namgoong Clan believed she had spent a few days in a secluded quarter receiving True Energy Guidance from Namgoong Mucheon.

Cheongun, who knew the truth, had put that out in advance to head off whatever rumors might leak from the house.

“I believed in you to the end. I knew you weren’t the sort to do that— that’s what I’m saying.”

Seop Mugwang, who had come by early in the morning, asked after Seolhwa’s condition for a long time and then told the stories of what had happened while she was gone.

“The ones who doubted you—I grabbed them all and—!”

“Beat them to a pulp?”

Seop Mugwang startled and straightened from the elbow-on-chin slouch he’d been in.

“Where did you learn to talk like that!”

Seolhwa smiled and answered.

“From you, Master?”

“I’ve never taught you wastrel talk like that.”

“You didn’t go out of your way to teach it.”

She just learned by watching.

“I pick things up fast, you know.”

Seop Mugwang suddenly scrunched his face.

Then he burst into a soft, “Pff—” laugh.

Watching him, Seolhwa let out a light laugh of her own.

Seop Mugwang propped his chin again and sighed shortly.

“You have to go back in? To that quarter?”

“Yes. I came down for a moment because I need something.”

“What do you need?”

“A sword.”

Seolhwa lifted the sword.

It was the one he had given her, saying he would return it to her, before she regained her memories.

“What happened with this? It isn’t mine.”

The shape, the leather wrap around the grip, the fittings—everything was the same, but the size of the blade had changed.

Before, it had suited a child’s hand—now a bit small for Seolhwa as she was—but this sword fit her perfectly now.

“That is yours.”

“?”

“You left it. I picked it up and remade it. I gave it to a smithy that works miracles with black steel—should be good in your hand.”

“...Pardon?”

Remade... the sword?

Because it might be inconvenient if it stayed small?

“But the sword I used before was forged only with black steel...”

“I nearly died getting that.”

Seop Mugwang knit his brow, as if recalling something.

“Climbing a cliff, almost fell—scared me senseless... Anyway! There wasn’t enough for me to make one for myself, so I made yours with it!”

Seop Mugwang clicked his tongue, turned his head, and scratched his cheek as if embarrassed.

“Well... if you like it, keep using it...”

“...”

Seolhwa stared at him, blankly.

Black steel he’d risked his life to obtain.

He said there wasn’t much, so he hadn’t used it for himself—but even a little black steel mixed in would make a blade worthy of being called a peerless sword. It was that rare.

It’s the material every martial artist longs to get their hands on, at least once.

To spend something that precious for a disciple is not, in truth, so easy as words.

“...May I hug you once?”

“What?!”

Seop Mugwang jolted and leapt to his feet.

“W- w-w-what did...?”

“I’m too grateful.”

Only one disciple though she was, he had always devoted himself to her beyond that.

She knew he had treated her with a heart more like a father’s than merely a master’s.

“Th- that’s enough! Ahem! Well, ah, the Clan Lord— no, big brother— no! The Alliance Lord said to come when you’re ready, so get going!”

“What about you, Master?”

“I’ll be there first!”

Then he scurried away.

So much for boasting that you were close as can be.

Watching him hurry off, Seolhwa let out a small laugh.