Seeing Through One’s Own Lens

“Indeed, how much you must have suffered.”

After instructing his disciples to prepare lodgings for the two, Jo Yang led only Yun-seon into the inner hall. As Yun-seon recounted the past five days, tears streamed without pause. Jo Yang wept with him at times, clasping his hand tightly, easing the sorrow he carried.

“In truth, I carry a message from my Master.”

Jo Yang dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve and shook his head slowly.

“Your well-being comes before all else. Look at your face—you seem about to collapse. Passing on your master’s will can wait until you’ve regained your strength.”

Even in the grief of losing his sworn brother, Jo Yang’s concern for his safety deeply moved Yun-seon.

“No. This may be more urgent than even my own life.”

“Is someone else after your life?”

Attempting to raise Yun-seon up, Jo Yang asked with grave concern.

“Not at this moment. But if what I say now were to be overheard, my life could be forfeit.”

At once, Jo Yang sprang to his feet, thoroughly inspecting the hall. Since attendants might come and go, he sealed all the entrances as well.

“Very well. Speak now.”

With a gentle smile, Jo Yang clasped Yun-seon’s right hand in both of his. A cooling energy surged through Yun-seon’s veins, clearing his chest. For the first time in days, his mind felt lucid.

“Knowing the Black Butterfly Twin Assassins sought the scripture, my sahyung commanded me to memorize it.”

“What?”

Startled by this revelation, Jo Yang looked bewildered. No matter how short the text, how could it be memorized so quickly?

“I have no talent for martial arts, but when it comes to memorization—I excel.”

Though a bit embarrassed, Yun-seon clearly explained what had happened.

“My master bade me deliver the scripture to you, Uncle. I will transcribe from memory what I carry within me.”

With that, Yun-seon rose and knelt before Jo Yang.

“So I beg you, Uncle—help me avenge my master and sahyung.”

Tears he thought had all been shed welled again. Pressed to the floor, Yun-seon could not raise his head.

“Of course I know your heart. But I fear for your health—let the transcription wait. We will do it slowly, over time.”

The sight of a child burdened with so heavy a weight reddened Jo Yang’s eyes. He gently took Yun-seon’s arm, trying to seat him again.

Whish!

“Who’s there?”

Yun-seon couldn’t even follow his hand. With a flick of Jo Yang’s sleeve, the sealed doors of the hall flew open, front and back.

“Heh, I must have been too on edge—imagining things.”

He had certainly sensed someone’s presence, yet there was no trace by the door. Uneasy though he was, Jo Yang decided to let it go.

“Uncle, I will deliver a written copy of the scripture to you as soon as possible.”

Jo Yang’s gaze on Yun-seon brimmed with pity and pride.

When the day of the Martial Assembly arrived, Hall of Shame and Aversion¹, the main base of the Emptiness Dhuta Sect, bustled with disciples of the Five Great Mountain Swords. Each member of the Emptiness Dhuta Sect was busy with assigned duties, leaving no time to attend to Yun-seon and Ju-un. Thus, the two wandered the Hall freely—and Yun-seon secretly cherished the time spent with her.

“Ju-un, I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”

“Is that so?”

Ju-un answered flatly, her face unreadable.

“If it’s alright… may I visit Nine Moons Mountain someday?”

Yun-seon’s heart pounded nervously, fearing she might refuse to see him again.

“Why?”

Ju-un suddenly halted and spun around, making Yun-seon’s face flush crimson.

“It’s just that, I want to see you aga…”

“There’s no need.”

Ju-un cut him off before he could finish.

“I’ve also decided to train here for the time being.”

“What?”

Seeing Yun-seon’s startled expression, she frowned deeply.

“Why? Do you dislike that?”

“No, I’m glad! But… why?”

Ju-un stared at his face for a long moment, giving no reply.

“You don’t need to know.”

She snapped coldly, unwilling to lie, then turned away. She disliked how it felt—like driving this pitiful boy with nowhere to lean even further into a corner. Yet she lacked the will to decide otherwise.

“Stay by that child’s side as much as you can.”

“What?”

The master she had met last night seemed so unfamiliar to her.

“Protect him.”

“Master, last time you clearly told me: save his life if I must, but nothing more.”

“I did.”

Mu-yeong’s expression showed a flicker of anger. Perhaps she was unsettled that her disciple, who once would have obeyed even unto death, now resisted.

“Is this because of the scripture?”

It was she who had reported that Yun-seon memorized the entire Commentary on the Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra (Explanation of the Profound Secrets). She hadn’t expected that one report to shake her master’s heart.

“Perhaps.”

“Master!”

Ju-un stepped forward toward her master, but Mu-yeong swept her sleeve, forcing her back.

“That’s enough! Grow any more insolent, and you’ll never see me again.”

Ju-un trembled in shock. From the age she could remember people, she had known only her master’s care. To be cast off by Mu-yeong, her only family, was her greatest fear.

“…Yes.”

“And make sure that boy awakens the scripture’s secrets.”

Mu-yeong vanished like mist without even patting her bowed disciple’s head. Ju-un too, without looking back, climbed the mountain straight to the Hall of Shame and Aversion.

“Yun-seon, I’m sorry.”

She whispered softly, words only she could hear.

Meanwhile, on the garden’s cloud bridge, Yun-seon beamed with joy, his heart swelling at the thought that Ju-un, whom he expected to part with, would remain by his side.

“There you are?”

The one running toward them, out of breath, was Do-pyeong. Though past misunderstandings had been cleared, he still disapproved of them. He behaved politely, but unease lingered on his face.

“The Sect Head commands that you both attend the assembly.”

“Yes.”

“Understood.”

Ju-un disliked his tone, but truthfully, she too was curious about the assembly, so she followed without complaint. Naïve as ever, Yun-seon spent the walk peppering Do-pyeong with questions about the sect, trying to befriend him.

Ju-un clicked her tongue at the back of Yun-seon’s head. Still, she thought it safer for him to stay near her—better he be fooled by her than be gravely harmed by someone else.

Inside the grand hall, the representatives of the Five Great Mountain Swords were already seated, each flanked by a dozen or more disciples—the Yellow Stone Sect fielded the greatest number.

Sect leader Master Ma Se-fung of the “Eight Horses” did not appear, but Elder Go Yu-saeng, the Old Man of Moon Mountain, had come in his stead, lending Jo Yang prestige. Above all, the arrival of the Soaring Sword Bu Neungpa left the disciples of every sect agape.

“At last, I’ll see the Soaring with my own eyes?”

Do-pyeong’s eyes sparkled with excitement, prompting Yun-seon to ask curiously:

“Is he really that famous?”

At his question, disciples from the other sects turned to him in disbelief.

“What—are you serious? Even the Sword God can’t compare with Elder Bu Neungpa, and you don’t know him? Are you sane?”

One disciple tossed out the remark without malice. Yun-seon bristled instantly, but Ju-un gripped his hand to hold him back, helping him calm down. Seeing Yun-seon’s face redden, Do-pyeong smirked with schadenfreude.

“It must have been a hard journey to come all this way.”

Jo Yang bowed courteously, and a sturdy middle-aged man returned the courtesy—Silent Countenance Jo Sang-won, Sect Leader of the Dragon Gate Sect. The Sword of Life was famed for its weight, yet Sang-won’s blade was so thick and heavy it could be mistaken for a saber, if not for its double edge. Watching him wield it as lightly as a broomstick was always a spectacle.

Behind him stood the three brothers of the Yong² family. Though they did not wield swords, each possessed his own formidable martial skill, earning them the nickname “Three Kings” in the martial world.

“Then, who is that old man over there?”

Yun-seon whispered so only Ju-un could hear. The old man’s gray beard reached his chest, and his frail, bony frame hardly gave the impression of a warrior.

“That’s Full Moon the Old Man, Shin Yang-seon of the Eminent Mountain Sect.”

Ju-un had only heard rumors before; this was her first time seeing him in person. He held a cane in his right hand, said to transform into a sword or a whip at will. His martial arts were so bizarre that she hoped, given the chance, to witness a few of his techniques.

Just then, a group of women entered the hall. Though they wore no adornments, their beauty turned every head. At the front stood one with her hair neatly braided up, her attire so sharp and tidy it looked like the collar alone could cut skin.

“So Geum-jeong of the Zen Cloud Sword Sect greets the Sect Head.“

Her clear, ringing voice reverberated throughout the hall, and every gaze turned toward her.

“Welcome. I worried you might not be able to attend.”

Jo Yang greeted her with a broad smile, but So Geum-jeong replied in a frosty tone.

“How could our Zen Cloud Sword Sect possibly sit idle in the matter of eradicating the Demonic Cult? Now that the Five Great Mountain Swords are all gathered, I expect you to truly commit this time.”

The somewhat arrogant remark bristled the Emptiness Dhuta Sect’s elders, but Jo Yang merely chuckled as though unbothered.

“Indeed. I will take your words deeply to heart.”

So Geum-jeong, perhaps realizing her forwardness, said no more and found her seat. Behind her, her younger sister So So-jeong bowed deeply to Jo Yang with a look of apology.

“Well then, now that the introductions are complete, let us begin the assembly.”

After some time, Jo Yang rose, drawing the attention of every martial artist. His voice was gentle and calm, yet each word carried clearly across the hall.

‘I truly cannot fathom the depth of his inner power.’

Ju-un was deeply impressed but concealed it, pretending to focus on the food before her. Yun-seon, on the other hand, was wide-eyed with wonder, unable to close his mouth at the marvel of it all.

“Not long ago, I received a most dreadful piece of news.”

Jo Yang’s long white eyebrows drooped, making him look as though he had aged ten years in an instant. Speaking of the matter weighed so heavily on him that he clutched his chest throughout.

“Would the Yellow Stone Sect’s elder brothers step forth and share the account?”

No sooner had Jo Yang spoken than Bu Neungpa of the Soaring Sword rose, his breathing ragged.

“As you all know, Yellow Stone Mountain lies in Yunpyeong’s Yeonban City. There, you will find the Yeonban Escort Agency—the second largest merchant guild in Gyeongguk. For generations, the Yellow Stone Sect has been bound to them as sworn brothers, sharing deep ties.”

Among the disciples of the Five Great Mountain Swords, none were ignorant of the Yeonban Escort Agency. It was so renowned that no treasure could be transported without passing through their hands. Even the Five Great Mountain Swords themselves relied on their services at least once each year.

“Yet on the full moon of last month, the entire household of the escort agency—all one hundred and twenty-five souls—were slaughtered.”

Bu Neungpa pounded his chest with his fist, unable to contain his grief. The hall filled with gasps and groans. Though many members of the agency were not martial artists, those who handled affairs were seasoned in the kangho. Among them were masters whose names alone carried weight. That all could be wiped out in one stroke… Many could not believe it and turned to whisper questions to their neighbors.

“Who committed such an atrocity?”

A female disciple of the Zen Cloud Sword Sect leapt to her feet, her voice quivering with rage. Her eyes brimmed with tears, ready to spill.

“When I arrived too late, I found a single character written in blood upon the wall—‘Rain’. Yes, it was as you fear. The unmistakable mark of that monster… the Red Rain, Jeok-woo.”

Yun-seon could not comprehend the meaning of what he had just heard. The very Jeok-woo who had wept over the value of his insignificant life… to say he had butchered over a hundred people in a single night? Surely this had to be some terrible misunderstanding.

“The ‘Jeok’ in Jeok-woo means red—Red Rain. That is his true name.”

Ju-un gently clasped Yun-seon’s trembling hand.

견인견지 (見仁見知), Seeing Through One’s Own Lens:
Everyone has a different perspective.