One Leaf Heralds Autumn

Of the three men, two stood out even from afar for their strange attire. The one in the center, smiling coyly, wore a splendid red long robe like a wedding garment. Even the cord tying his hair up and his shoes were red, making him look extravagantly gaudy. Though his makeup was thick, his voice and build left no doubt—he was a man.

At his right stood a man who, despite the chilly weather, wore nothing but a thin silk vest over bare skin. His messy hair looked as though he had just rolled out of bed, and his untrimmed beard clung raggedly to his face, giving him an extremely filthy look.

“No matter how I look at them, they don’t seem like imperial envoys.”

At Jeok-woo’s question, Seomun silently shook his head. The moment he saw that face among the group, the meeting from ten years ago flashed before his eyes: the man who had smugly held a sword to the king of Ryeo Nation’s throat now stood before him as a middle-aged master. The young Yi Seomun remembered that humiliating moment vividly.

The third man stood a step back from the group, arms folded. His plain clothes and small frame made him seem ordinary compared to the other two. Yet his face was strikingly odd: eyes slanted far to the sides, skin deeply pocked, giving him a grotesque look. He stared at them with constant displeasure, as if full of resentment at the situation.

“Oh dear, we’re too late! What a pity.”

The man in red fanned himself theatrically with his hand, prattling away, until the bearded man jabbed him with an elbow in annoyance.

“Bong-cheon, enough. We’re not here to play.”

“Geum Hyeong-gwon! You stupid oaf, how many times have I told you never to call me by that name in front of people!”

Bong-cheon stomped his feet in anger, looking exactly like a little girl throwing a tantrum. Hyeong-gwon knew controlling him was beyond his ability, yet today he felt unusually embarrassed. At last, he turned back and shot a glance at his eldest senior brother.

“Leave him. We won’t see these people again—who would remember such antics anyway?”

Watching their exchange, Hyunjin finally lost patience and frowned deeply. They had lined them up like monkeys on display, only to bicker among themselves—she felt thoroughly ignored. At this rate, starting the fight sooner seemed preferable.

“Sahyung, wouldn’t it be better if we provoked them first?”

At Hyunjin’s question, Seomun once again shook his head. He knew at least one of their skills all too well. If they clashed at full force, how long could he endure? Even as he watched the situation unfold, he constantly schemed for ways to keep his brothers and sisters from being harmed.

“Hero Gok, it has been a long time. Have you been well?”

At last, Seomun spoke. At his words, Bong-cheon and Hyeong-gwon instantly quieted. Yi Seomun was unfamiliar to them, but they had long heard of the Taiyi Divine Sect’s Seven Stellar Lords. They knew his reputation as a formidable master, though they hadn’t realized he knew their senior. With puzzled looks, they glanced at one another and shrugged.

“That was very long ago, but you have a good memory.”

Gok Hae-go also remembered the young Seomun. Those blazing, furious eyes had only grown sharper with depth.

“Things are already concluded. Regrettable as it is, why not turn back now?”

Seomun bowed deeply, with utmost courtesy. The other disciples could not understand why their eldest senior brother acted so, but only Jingun perceived his intent.

‘Even against just those three, we are outmatched. With no tribute to take anyway, if they leave quietly, it would be the best outcome.’

Gok Hae-go’s slit eyes narrowed further. He wasn’t fooled by Seomun’s ploy, but in truth the words were not wrong. The tribute was already lost, and fighting them now would bring no gain. At most, it would be a petty venting of anger.

“True enough. I have no concern for matters of state, so I don’t particularly regret it. However—”

Gok Hae-go’s wide mouth split into a deep grin up to his ears. In truth, he had rushed here only at Jo Yang’s urging, and being ordered about so lightly had left him offended. Surely, he had to release that displeasure before leaving.

“Wouldn’t it suit my brothers’ dignity to take at least one of your heads?”

Jeok-woo’s face flushed instantly red. The man’s words dripped with confidence in his superiority. Not yet thirty, Jeok-woo was already a seasoned fighter. To be looked down on without even being tested was infuriating.

“Are we not tied by fate already? I wish to end this as peacefully as possible.”

“Eldest Sahyung!”

But Seomun, sensing Jeok-woo’s anger, stepped forward first. For everyone’s sake, the fight had to be avoided. If it could not be, at least he wanted his juniors to live. Pride, once lost, could be recovered—but he was not foolish enough to enter a hopeless battle. Their strength was already drained; how many exchanges could they endure against such masters?

“Then, for the sake of old ties, I shall take my men and withdraw. But I cannot promise to restrain my younger brothers.”

Gok Hae-go’s face turned sullen again as he turned away without hesitation. Raising his left hand in a light gesture, the soldiers who had encircled them also withdrew.

“Sahyung, what about us then?”

Bong-cheon asked in a cutesy tone, and Gok Hae-go let out a small laugh.

“Play until your hearts are satisfied.”

He had scarcely taken a few steps before his figure vanished into the forest.

“Well then—shall we have ourselves some fun?”

Bong-cheon’s painted face flushed with excitement.

How long had he been running? Though the air was chilly, Yun-seon was sweating as though in a storm, carrying Ma Sepung on his back. He had barely slept the night before, busy sabotaging the wagons. On top of that, he had already fought a desperate duel with Hyeongjin—his body barely capable of standing. Fueled only by the resolve to save his master, he pressed on, but his vision was blurring and his ears rang.

“Yun-seon… you can endure this. Let’s rest a little.”

Whenever Ma Sepung regained consciousness, he urged him to stop, but Yun-seon would not. The breath on his back was growing weaker and weaker—if he delayed even a little, his master’s life might slip away forever.

‘I can do this. I must do this.’

With staggering legs, Yun-seon began climbing a steep slope. It felt as though something were dragging him back, sliding him down. His already meager strength seemed to drain away, but he could not give up.

“Shall I help you?”

A familiar voice struck his ear—sharp as metal, dripping with mockery. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Go Yu-saeng!”

“You insolent brat, daring to call the name of a senior who has lived many times longer than you… tsk, tsk.”

Go Yu-saeng sneered as he looked Yun-seon up and down. Luckily, Ma Sepung seemed on death’s door already, so he only needed to deal with this whelp.

“Unlucky little thing… but your life sure drags on.”

He had no intention of joining Seong Gon and Jo Yang’s fight, so he slipped away, taking the fastest path back to Yellow Stone Sect—and by luck, stumbled across Kang Yun-seon. Half a year ago, he had thought the boy dead; to see him appear alive, on his own, left him stunned—and thrilled.

‘Now I can seize the manual!’

The humiliation of being treated like a servant by Jo Yang, the insults suffered from Seong Gon—his repeatedly crushed pride could now be restored in one stroke. He almost wanted to dance.

“Return the Sect Lord and hand over the manual—I’ll spare your life.”

Of course, he had no intention of sparing him. The moment Yun-seon called Ma Sepung “Master,” he had sworn to kill him. How could a Ryeo brat who had learned their sect’s arts be allowed to live? For now, he only wanted to coax the boy, to get what he wanted without effort.

“My master no longer has ties to Yellow Stone Sect. And the Commentary on the Explanation of Profound Secrets is not something a petty man like you should possess.”

Yun-seon answered through gritted teeth. If not for Go Yu-saeng’s betrayal, Ma Sepung would never have been wounded so gravely. At the very least, no human could drive his brothers to death like this. Of all he had met, this man was the vilest scoundrel.

“Then I’ll keep only that mouth alive.”

After being insulted by a child, Go Yu-saeng changed his mind. First he would sever every tendon, then ask again. Slowly, he drew his sword, Moon-Mountain. Surely the brat had learned something from his senior—he might last twenty exchanges at most.

Swiish!

As soon as Yun-seon awkwardly raised his stance, Go Yu-saeng thrust forward without hesitation. A blue flash of Sword qi slashed side to side, lancing straight for his eyes. With his vision already blurred, Yun-seon could not block—his best was to retreat several paces with footwork.

“Hmph. You’re even worse than I thought.”

This time he twisted, slashing at Yun-seon’s side. When the boy bent in defense, he planned to spin back and cut the opposite flank. It wouldn’t kill him outright, but it would bleed him plenty—enough to inflict long torment.

“Pathetic fool…”

As expected, Yun-seon bent low, barely avoiding Moon-Mountain’s edge. Go Yu-saeng chuckled, turning instantly to cut across with a horizontal slash.

Kang!

“Huh?”

Instead of flesh tearing, the clash of metal rang out. Realizing at once something was wrong, Go Yu-saeng leapt back instinctively, retreating all the way to a maple tree. Only then did a woman in white appear in his vision.

“You…?”

Yun-seon had too little experience with real sword combat to counter Go Yu-saeng’s strike. In that perilous instant, with his side nearly cut open, all he could do was fall forward to shield Ma Sepung. Covered in dirt, he lifted himself just enough to see the white robe now standing before him.

“Ju-un?”

“Yun-seon, are you alright?”

Ju-un’s face was a jumble of worry and relief. To see her usually indifferent and expressionless features so changed startled Yun-seon inwardly. Above all—

“What happened here?”

“I followed, worried for you. Thanks to that, I was able to help.”

Ju-un tried to smile, to keep Yun-seon from worrying, but her right arm tingled and her expression twisted bitterly. She must have strained the muscle blocking Go Yu-saeng’s blade.

“I’ll handle things here—take Sect Lord Ma and go. But when this is over, you must come see me.”

Yun-seon looked back and forth between Ma Sepung on his back and Ju-un before him, tears spilling freely. Both were so precious—how could he choose? With Ju-un, he might still find a way to escape, but Ma Sepung’s life would be lost. Yet how could he leave Ju-un to certain death?

“You fool—are you ignoring me? I am the Sword Immortal’s sole disciple! Go, before I get angry!”

Ju-un snapped, shoving the hesitant Yun-seon hard. She knew full well—without force, he would never abandon her.

“Ju-un, I can’t. I can’t leave.”

“If you don’t go now, I’ll slit my throat right here!”

Raising Moon Heart to her own neck, Ju-un glared—her only thought was saving Yun-seon.

“What ridiculous theatrics.”

Go Yu-saeng folded his arms, amused at the melodrama. He knew Ju-un was skilled, but only by the standards of their little world. She was far beneath his level. He could toy with her, kill her, and still have time to chase Yun-seon.

“Ju-un…”

“But promise me you’ll come find me. Okay?”

Yun-seon nodded hard, then turned and ran. He knew Ju-un’s nature too well—if he didn’t go, she truly would cut her own throat.

‘I’ll come for you, no matter what. So please—live. Please…’

By now the sun was sinking behind the ridges. A chill autumn wind swept the forest, and the leaves groaned as they clung desperately not to fall.

Chaeng!

Chaeng!

After twenty exchanges, Ju-un realized she could never win. His was truly the skill of a master worthy of the Five Great Mountain Swords. How foolish she felt, thinking now that she should have trained harder—it was too late for such thoughts.

“You’re still stuck in place. Always so lazy.”

A cold, dry voice pierced Ju-un’s back. At that, the tears she had held back spilled forth. It felt like all her lonely, weary days were suddenly comforted. Believing she was saved, her legs gave way and she collapsed.

“Master…”

When a disciple is in danger, a master cannot help but appear.

일엽지추 (一葉知秋), One Leaf Heralds Autumn:

A small sign can indicate a great trend.