“Bi-mu?”
Cheongwol’s response came out halting, like a flinch, but on the surface, she forced it to sound as calm as possible.
Dang Soran nodded with a gentle smile in her refined eyes.
“Yeah. A spar. Just to feel out how much we’ve each grown.”
“...”
Her words were soft. A tone that anyone would take as a friendly suggestion.
But Cheongwol could tell.
The faint intent lurking in the corners of Dang Soran’s eyes.
She could read that intention at a glance because, over long years, she herself had been watching Dang Soran in much the same way.
As always, her scheme boiled down to one thing.
Proof.
Who was stronger.
Who was superior.
Who was more impressive.
Who deserved to win people’s adoration.
This time was no different.
She wanted to prove she was still above by crushing Cheongwol.
To confirm it, Cheongwol said,
“...Back at the Emei Sect, then—”
“—The Emei Sect is in the forbidden zone for men. Don’t you think our Tang Clan folks, or the villagers here, would want to watch?”
“...You mean in front of everyone?”
“Not right this instant. How about tomorrow... or the day after?”
See that.
If Dang Soran thought she’d lose, she wouldn’t even suggest this.
The outcome of this spar would be seen by all, and soon everyone would whisper about it.
Even the beggars in the village, and the Hao Gate members lurking around, would spread the word.
“And it’d be boring just to spar plain... so let’s make a wager.”
“...A wager.”
“If you win... yeah. I’ll hand over the ‘Phoenix’ title to you.”
Dang Jeokcheon looked at his daughter in brief surprise and said,
“Soran. That’s too much...”
“But I can’t just give away the ‘Dragon’ title that isn’t even mine. If she beats me... then the moon really is the phoenix, right?”
“...”
Cheongwol couldn’t say Dang Soran’s offer didn’t tempt her.
Even in this infuriating situation, she could picture the sect leader smiling if she claimed the phoenix title.
“...And if I lose?”
Dang Soran smiled and said,
“Our little brother Jiun wants to get close to you. How about introducing him around the village?”
Dang Jiun clasped his hands in a fist salute from behind.
It was a lopsided bet, with the Poison Phoenix staking far more, but Cheongwol’s gut boiled.
It felt like an insult.
“...I’m not some courtesan. Why should I do that?”
‘Like a cheap whore, Cheongwol.’
For a moment, an ugly sight she’d shown to one person flashed in her mind, but she bit her lip and ignored it.
Soun stepped in to restrain Cheongwol.
“...Wol. Don’t overreact. Lady Soran didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, that’s not what I meant. If you weren’t an Emei disciple, who else would show him around Mount Emei...? Besides, it’s not even that hard. What I’m betting is way bigger.”
“...”
But Cheongwol knew.
She still fell short of Dang Soran.
And no wonder—she was already four years older.
Cheongwol had surpassed plenty who were four years her senior...
But at their level, a small gap was a chasm.
On top of that, over the past year, Cheongwol hadn’t built her strength—she’d regressed.
Only recently had she heard comments that her swordsmanship had oddly improved, thanks to distractions like Han Seojin... but she had no confidence.
While Cheongwol had struggled that year, Dang Soran had earned the Poison Phoenix moniker at the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.
...Why spar someone like that?
“Still, I’m looking forward to the spar. Curious how the flower of Emei has bloomed.”
Even Clan Leader Dang Jeokcheon showed interest.
As he looked to Muwol Satae as if seeking permission, she glanced at Soun.
Cheongwol’s master hesitated briefly before slowly nodding.
“...A spar with a close friend isn’t a bad thing.”
Close friend?
Cheongwol swallowed a secret sigh.
This wasn’t that kind of spar.
It was a public proving ground.
She’d obviously lose. She’d get hurt, too.
She’d have to show the Tang second son, Dang Jiun, around the village.
Behind this seemingly wholesome spar, Dang Soran’s entire scheme was laid out.
If word spread that she’d shown a man around the village, how much would those with vicious tongues gossip?
“...”
She hated to admit it, but she was scared.
More than the pain, there was too much to lose in this fight.
One spar could flip her reputation—and that was the world Cheongwol lived in.
She looked around.
‘A spar!’
‘This luck...! We get to see the Poison Phoenix in action?’
‘As expected of the Tang treasure. She knows exactly what we want.’
The crowd’s reactions were already leaning one way.
A heavy wave of expectation crashed over her.
‘Lady Cheongwol will win for sure. Oh, and she ate snacks from my shop?’
...Why assume it’s a given? I have plenty of shortcomings.
‘No wonder she’s Emei’s Thousand-Year Flower! If Lady Cheongwol had been at the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly... forget phoenix. She’d have taken the dragon title!’
How can you be so sure? I bled for this spot.
Why... keep pressuring me.
Cheongwol was sick to death of this burden.
It felt like endless labor. Fill one expectation, and another demands filling right after...
Like trudging forever into a pitch-black cave.
Cheongwol scanned her surroundings carefully.
No one stopped the spar.
No one noticed her burden.
Muwol Satae. Soun.
Their expressions were gentle. Urging her that ‘experience isn’t bad.’
It hadn’t been long since her clash with the sect leader.
That reconciliation weighed on her, making it hard to bare her teeth before them.
The first-generation disciples.
They watched with interest, doing nothing. No one stepped up for her.
If anything, they eyed the phoenix title greedily.
Her fellow disciples.
Their gazes were more complicated.
Jealousy, envy, and eyes hungry to see her fall.
The third-generation disciples.
Bright expectations from sparkling eyes. Especially Honghwa’s shone vividly.
...If she lost here?
How would all those gazes change?
Why assume she’d win in the first place?
Why did no one...
...stop this fight she didn’t want?
She couldn’t understand why no one read her heart.
Was everything she’d staked her life on just entertainment to them?
“...Very well.”
But Cheongwol couldn’t say anything else.
On the surface, it was just a friendly offer.
Refusing here would make her the strange one.
And suddenly.
...Cheongwol wondered again.
...Why she kept living this Emei life.
****
“Aigoo... aigoo...”
I sprawled on the floor, wailing at the ceiling.
Not even energy to do business, let alone stand.
The curse of knowing future disasters.
And I’m tangled in this one!!
Cheongwol surely had me among her top interests lately.
With things so close, could I stay unscathed after she crumbled?
When she started breaking down, the first splashback would hit one spot.
Right here.
Front-row VIP in the fire pit.
Gwak Du Uncle popped up at the open window frame and shouted.
“Seojin! You hear? Lady Cheongwol and Lady Dang Soran are sparring! So exciting—”
“Aigoo... aigoo...”
I kept wailing instead of answering.
“Huh? What’s with you?”
...My foster son’s death script is set, and you’re thrilled, Uncle?
Cheongwol’s fall wasn’t just any defeat.
Not losing and disappointing everyone or whatever.
It was more a turning point than an event.
Sure, tensions with the sect leader before, or piled-up Emei matters...
...In the spar, she ultimately refuses defeat and unleashes the Extermination Sword.
A sword style honed solely for killing.
The vicious murderous intent and resentment dormant in Emei’s nuns erupts for all to see.
To deploy that in a spar meant her inner patience shattered then.
Once patience crumbles, it never rebuilds.
They’d cover the spar somehow, but her heart demon rumors spread through the Central Plains.
After that, she unravels slowly, surely.
No one to hold her.
No stopping.
“...”
The spar was set for the day after tomorrow.
And Cheongwol... might visit me tonight.
If she came tonight and we muddled through this play somehow.
Then what?
How to handle her after the fall?
It was maddeningly hopeless.
What to do?
How to dodge the flames?
“...Gwak Du Uncle.”
I muttered suddenly.
He’d entered my house to check on me.
“What?”
“...Can’t you hide me somewhere?”
“...What nonsense?”
“No... just vanish like poof... Can’t the Beggars’ Sect do that? Dang, should’ve cozied up to Hao Gate.”
“Hey, why bring up Hao Gate bastards in front of me?”
“Beggars are useless. Just take my iron coins.”
Gwak Du Uncle, who’d been slyly poking my coin pouch under pretense of checking me, awkwardly cleared his throat and withdrew his finger.
“W-well. Don’t just lie there—go walk around. Tang Clan men can’t enter Emei’s temple, so the village is buzzing. Might make new friends there.”
“...Since when do martial artists mingle with commoners? Lucky not to get sneered at.”
But suddenly, an idea bloomed, and I shot up.
“...W-what? Seriously, what’s with you today?”
“...”
...Thinking it over.
Spar soon, Tang retainers in town.
...Would Cheongwol come to my basement?
Disaster if caught? No time for SM or whatever?
She’d be busy. Maybe she won’t?
Plus, after unleashing Extermination Sword, Emei would watch her.
...Could she even visit after?
Would she, exploding emotionally, come just for this play?
Doesn’t make sense.
We fought and split, too.
How’s she know I’d get revenge?
“...Huh?”
...She really might not come??
****
“...Must I?”
“...Cheongwol. The promise is already set, isn’t it?”
“...”
“...Besides, it’s just a spar—nothing to refuse so much. Spars are essential for real combat anyway. What’s so burdensome?”
Cheongwol looked at Muwol Satae.
She’d begged to cancel the spar, not wanting it at all...
But the reply was, what’s so burdensome?
What’s so burdensome.
...Who put that burden on her?
If not for that day’s reconciliation, they wouldn’t even have this talk.
If Leather Room’s owner hadn’t eased her heart demon a bit, her mind might be deeper in the muck now.
“It’s a meaningless spar.”
“Meaningless? Experience alone makes one grow.”
“If experience matters, why in front of people?”
“Likewise, nothing you can’t do before people.”
“...”
“...Wol, we survive with pretty words thanks to countless supporters. Isn’t showing them what they want just right?”
Cheongwol felt her heart demon stir amid the circling talk.
“...Understood.”
She just rose with those short words.
At some point, Cheongwol had realized.
...Muwol Satae didn’t understand her well.
It hurt to accept, but lately she was slowly admitting it.
Her master, too. First-gen disciples. Fellow disciples.
Anyone, really.
In the end, only she understood herself in this world.
Such a lonely world.
It even made her wonder if she was the weird one.
Maybe she’d already gone mad without knowing.
‘...Pretty, Cheongwol.’
...No.
There was one more oddball.
Someone who’d smile and accept her, even uglier, filthier than now.
The long-promised ten days ended today.
But... Tang retainers were still in the village.
“...”
Cheongwol hesitated briefly, but soon found herself shuffling toward the Leather Room.
She couldn’t understand it herself.
Why, in this turmoil...
...she was heading to suffer that shame again.