Illiterate

“Tsk tsk, you’ve become completely useless.”

Seong Gon looked down at his disciple with great displeasure. Whether he hadn’t searched or couldn’t be found, so much time had passed that there was even a faint sense of relief in seeing him again.

“I heard about Left Shadow. Such wasted talent.”

Seong Gon sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling, as though pondering where all this misfortune had begun.

“Sect Leader, I have committed a mortal sin.”

Right Shadow begged forgiveness in a choked voice. Paralyzed from the waist down, he couldn’t kneel, but he bent forward until his chest touched the ground.

Seong Gon stared at his disciple’s hunched back, then a mean-spirited expression spread across his face.

“Then you must die.”

“Yes…”

Right Shadow knew his master’s nature well—boundless generosity to his own, but none at all beyond that circle. The moment he faced that expression, Right Shadow knew this was the end.

He picked up the dagger Yun-seon had dropped. He was strangely grateful to be allowed the choice of ending his own life. Since his brother’s death, life had felt worse than death. Revenge on the one in blue who had deceived them lingered in his heart, but in his broken body he could dream of no hope.

“May you live long, Sect Leader.”

The last thing Right Shadow saw was his master’s emotionless face. He slowly closed his eyes and drove the dagger into his throat, quick and precise, hoping to at least die without pain.

“This is the place, isn’t it?”

Panting, Do-pyeong turned to Hyeongjin. Hyeongjin nodded, then studied the inn’s exterior. Yesterday it had seemed shabby, but in daylight its strangeness was more obvious—collapsed pillars, swarming insects, like a haunted ruin.

“As expected, it’s suspicious.”

“Let’s go in.”

Agreeing with Do-pyeong, Hyeongjin led the way. Ju-un followed heavily, torn between hope for news of Yun-seon and fear of disappointment. Her sword Moon Heart was already drawn in her hand, ready for any sudden attack. All three wore tense expressions.

Creeeak.

The inn’s door screeched open. The scene was the same as yesterday, yet somehow it felt far more sinister.

“Is anyone here?”

Hyeongjin called loudly for the innkeeper, but the sound echoed unanswered through the building.

“Looks like they ran away, right?”

Do-pyeong whispered, a little too eagerly. Things seemed to be turning in his favor—whatever those innkeepers were, he could pin it on them. If they’d fled, even better.

“Aren’t you the ones from yesterday?”

A frail-looking girl rubbed her sleepy eyes as she descended from the second floor. She walked languidly, looking annoyed, and the three’s tension evaporated in deflation.

“Well, you left so coldly—why come back now?”

She walked right up to them without a trace of caution, yawning widely. Realizing they had misjudged, Hyeongjin gave an awkward laugh.

“We lost our companion and thought he might have come here.”

Do-pyeong gulped nervously—blaming them suddenly seemed impossible.

“By chance, did you see the sickly-looking young man we met yesterday?”

Ju-un asked desperately. She had nearly abandoned suspicion of the inn, but clung to even the faintest straw.

“Oh? I don’t remember seeing this pretty unnie yesterday…”

The girl beamed, scanning Ju-un up and down, mumbling compliments about her beauty with a silly grin.

“……”

Ju-un wanted to smack her, but forced herself to hold back. If the girl gave even the smallest clue, she would endure it.

Watching Ju-un’s face, the girl smiled faintly as if she understood.

“Hmm… That brother didn’t look like he’d survive the night. By now he’s probably dropped dead.”

“What?”

Ju-un lost control, seizing the girl by the collar. She’d tried to be lenient because of her age, but the girl was insufferable. Shorter than Ju-un, her toes barely scraped the floor as she dangled.

“Sajeo!”

Hyeongjin broke into a cold sweat—disciples of Emptiness Dhuta Sect bullying the weak was unthinkable.

“Is the innkeeper from yesterday here?”

Peeling Ju-un off her, Hyeongjin forced a laugh and asked. He doubted they’d get useful information here. Better to return to Dragon Gate Sect and send more searchers.

“The innkeeper’s an old man—never sleeps late. Went for a dawn walk and hasn’t returned.”

“Then we’ll be on our way.”

Hyeongjin patted Ju-un’s back and pulled her away. Ju-un muttered curses at the girl, glaring until she was dragged outside.

“Oh, right! A group of men in black passed here at dawn—was that who you meant?”

As even Do-pyeong turned to leave uneasily, the girl clapped her hands, remembering. Before she finished, Ju-un was back, seizing her collar again.

“So? Did they take Yun-seon?”

“Hmm… Can’t say for sure. But wow, unnie—your face is like a fairy, but your temper’s fierce.”

“Why you…”

Infuriated at her mocking smile, Ju-un clenched her fist, but restrained herself from striking.

“Think again carefully.”

Hyeongjin apologized on her behalf and asked again, but the girl lazily shook her head.

“That’s all. I told you to stay the night. If you won’t pay, then leave.”

Ju-un wanted to slap her into talking, but Hyeongjin restrained her. All she could do was glare daggers as they left.

Once they were gone, the girl let out a long sigh. Ju-un’s desperation had almost made her reveal the truth. For a moment she’d considered giving a hint, but at the sight of the Emptiness Dhuta disciples’ faces, she steeled herself.

‘Sorry, unnie, but it can’t be helped.’

She locked the door again and hurried upstairs. In her room, Yun-seon lay pale as death.

“Seol-ah, have they gone?”

“Yes, Grandpa. Well? Any improvement?”

Yun Seol approached anxiously, checking his pulse. Her medicine kept him alive, but could not cure him.

“How did he endure so long in this state…”

Her eyes burned with tears. Though a stranger, his wretched fate moved her to weep.

“Grandpa, there’s only one way to save him. You know it.”

She gazed at the old man pleadingly. She knew he rarely granted favors, but hoped he might for her sake. Yet he only looked at Yun-seon’s face, impassive.

“He really looks alike…”

“What?”

Puzzled, she asked, but before he answered, Yun-seon’s fingers twitched.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

Yun-seon slowly opened his eyes, bewildered at the strangers. His last memory had been Right Shadow’s wailing face. Why was he back at the inn?

“What… what happened?”

He stammered the question to the old man, who leaned back in his chair and replied.

“At dawn I saw a band of men in black pass by. Wondering, I searched around and found you collapsed at a cave mouth. I simply carried you back.”

“Thank you, elder.”

Yun-seon still didn’t understand, but bowed deeply, grateful to the one who seemed to have saved his life.

“But elder, did you see any trace of others?”

He thought maybe the sub-leader of Black Butterfly might have been there, even if Right Shadow wasn’t. But the old man only shrugged—he saw no one else.

“Brother, though the worst has passed, your condition is grave. You should seek treatment.”

Yun Seol smiled gently, grasping his hand.

“I know a fine physician. With some rest there, you could live another ten years. Come with us.”

Yun-seon found her unconditional kindness strange yet comforting. Orphaned young, raised by his master, he’d never known a woman’s care. Her offer warmed him deeply.

“Thank you, Miss. But I have duties. I cannot devote myself to treatment. I appreciate your kindness, but I must return.”

He bowed repeatedly and rose from the bed. His head spun as if he’d collapse, but he hurried—he had to rejoin his peers.

“Hey there, I once studied martial arts. Let me advise you…”

The old man, who had silently watched, finally spoke. Polite as ever, Yun-seon sat back down to listen.

“Your internal injury is unusual. For now, when you circulate breath, open qi points for breathing but keep the limbs’ meridians closed. If you force circulation, qi congestion will build in your dantian and endanger your life.”

Yun-seon listened carefully, then knelt and bowed deeply.

“Elder, though I must leave now, I will return to repay your grace. I will never forget your words.”

Embarrassed, the old man quickly lifted him up. Even he felt uneasy seeing the boy’s ashen right arm. His brows furrowed.

“Take this medicine.”

Yun Seol hurried out and returned with a red pouch, handing it to him. Inside were five black pills, each the size of a fingernail.

“Take one whenever you feel an attack coming. It should last you until next winter. If fate allows, we’ll meet again then.”

Yun-seon felt the warmth of her hand. For a moment he longed to follow her to safety, but he quickly steeled himself.

‘Until next winter is enough. If I can uncover the truth and avenge my master, what worth is this frail life?’

Rejecting Yun Seol’s pleas to rest a half-day longer, Yun-seon left the inn. The sun had dipped—past midday.

‘First, I’ll trace Right Shadow.’

Unlike yesterday, his body felt light, almost normal. He left the inn with brisk steps, retracing toward where he had met Right Shadow.

“Grandpa, you really won’t help? Even stage two of Taiyi Divine Art is enough to suppress that Fire Qi.”

Pouting, Yun Seol scolded him. Seong Gon closed his eyes as if unwilling to hear more.

“If I meet that boy again, I’ll consider it then.”

Seong Gon carried Right Shadow on his shoulder and dropped him onto the sub-leader’s knees.

“The Fire Qi is subdued—there will be no more seizures. His crippled body won’t heal, so you must serve him well.”

The sub-leader clutched his lord tightly, bowing flat to the ground.

“Thank you for your grace, Sect Leader.”

He slammed his forehead into the floor again and again in gratitude and guilt, until his brow split and bled.

“What fault is yours? It is my sin for not shielding my disciple’s failings.”

With that, Seong Gon flicked his sleeve, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked away. Yun-seon, unconscious, dangled from his right shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you…”

The sub-leader stayed prostrate, unmoving, until Seong Gon was a mere speck in the distance.

목불식정 (目不識丁), Illiterate as a Log:

Refers to someone so utterly ignorant that they cannot even recognize the simple character ‘丁’ (ding), meaning ‘trowel’.