Like A Flowing Stream

Upon arriving at the Singye Inn, what awaited Jo Yang was a group of armed escorts.

He realized that what was bound to come had finally arrived.

When he realized things had gone wrong, perhaps he had already pictured this very scene in his mind.

As he smacked his lips, a bitter taste surged up his throat.

“Your servant, Grand Guardian Jo Yang, pays respects to the Prince.”

As he bowed low enough to touch the floor, something glinting shimmered above his head.

It was a sword so sharp that even slightly raising his head would slice off a handful of hair.

“So, you’ve failed, haven’t you?”

The man with a jade-like demeanor and ethereal air asked indifferently while examining his well-manicured nails.

Though his tone rose to feign kindness, it was, in truth, a reprimand.

“I am deeply sorry.”

A flash of anger passed through Jo Yang’s eyes as he stared at the floor.

The man could be crushed with a single punch, yet he was also of the lord’s precious bloodline.

It wasn’t the man’s status that restrained him, but his own convictions.

“Perhaps I had too high expectations. But if even the Grand Guardian couldn’t succeed, anyone else would have fared the same.”

A sharp rebuke would have wounded his pride less, but the man’s overly gentle approach was an unbearable humiliation for Jo Yang.

“I will absolutely not fail next time.”

Jo Yang knelt without hesitation.

If this was the extent of the ordeal, it was better to get it over with quickly.

Such old-fashioned gestures often worked well with those born into nobility.

What was the point of apologizing a hundred times if the pleas weren’t heartfelt?

“This failure means there won’t be a next time. The issue with Seoi Nation has grown quite serious. Thus, you should reflect and restrain yourself for a while.”

Despite the man’s lengthy speech, Jo Yang didn’t so much as flinch.

There was no need to respond to words that wouldn’t even linger in memory.

He could endure the pitiful gazes from those around him.

“Did you find out the location?”

The sudden question made Jo Yang’s shoulders twitch.

Those words should never have come from his mouth.

How did a mere prince among many know about the secret pact with the Emperor?

“Did you think I wouldn’t know? It seems you’ve greatly underestimated me. Have you forgotten your lowly bloodline now that you’re the Martial Alliance Leader?”

Jo Yang’s head, previously bowed toward the floor, slowly rose.

Deep wrinkles began to form rapidly on his otherwise smooth skin, defying his age.

His expression, impossible to discern as laughter or tears, clearly revealed his disgust for the man.

“Prince Geum!”

As Jo Yang sprang up and strode toward the man, startled escorts aimed their gleaming blades at him.

Yet the man himself, with a broad smile, casually raised his right hand.

The escorts, who seemed ready to strike his neck, swiftly retreated at that single gesture.

“You’ll achieve nothing without my help, no matter who you are!”

Facing Jo Yang’s blazing eyes, Yi Geum covered his mouth with his hand, as if suppressing a burst of laughter.

Then, he pointed at Jo Yang with his index finger, shaking it vigorously, and, still unsatisfied, spun around in circles.

“The phrase ’reversing host and guest’ is used in times like this. Truly laughable.”

Jo Yang’s eyes narrowed further.

Among the Emperor’s eight princes, the second, Yi Geum, the most ambitious and cunning, always made him uneasy.

There was something sly about him that felt eerily similar to himself.

“Even without you, I have plenty of cards to play. So don’t recklessly interfere, ignorant of your place.”

Yi Geum’s face drew close to Jo Yang’s.

Once the smile faded, he seemed like an entirely different person.

When smiling, he was an unmatched gentleman; when glaring, he resembled a venomous wildcat.

“The next time we meet, you’ll address me by a different title. So you’d better solve the riddle before then, or prepare for death.”

Yi Geum swept his robe and strode out of the inn.

The dozen or so warriors sitting like guests rose at once and vanished like the wind, following him.

They were likely prepared for any unforeseen circumstances.

Just as Jo Yang had no trust in him, he too had none in Jo Yang.

“Yi Geum…”

Jo Yang bit his lip so hard it bled.

Even if not for his lord, he could never let that man take what was his.

Thus, there was only one choice left.

“I must find that place, no matter what it takes…”

Perhaps this failure might turn out to be a blessing in disguise for him.

With some time on his hands, he planned to seclude himself and find a way.

Jo Yang firmly believed that, while enduring a few seasons at Dhuta Mountain, a chance for a turnaround would come.

Patter patter.

At the sound of rain striking the window, Yun-seon’s eyes snapped open.

The first thing he saw was Yun Seol’s worried face.

“Brother? Are you coming to?”

His eyelids were heavy, and his head throbbed, making it a struggle to sit up.

“Sleeping for three whole days—you might starve at this rate.”

As if waiting for the moment, Yun Seol handed Yun-seon a bowl of steaming fish porridge.

Even when he fell off the cliff, the first thing he ate was this very fish porridge.

In truth, it was the only dish she could make.

“Where’s Master? Where’s Sabaek?”

As he regained his senses, countless worries flooded Yun-seon’s mind.

As he scrambled to get off the bed, Seol hurriedly pressed him back down.

Then, pointing to the right, she burst into giggles.

“Snore, puff, snore, puff…”

Ma Sepung was snoring loudly, his face utterly at peace, as if he could pierce the roof with the sound.

Only then did Yun-seon finally feel at ease.

The thought that his desperate rush had saved a precious life filled his heart with emotion.

“And also…”

Yun Seol pointed to the left this time.

“Huh? Senior Sister Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin lay there, hands gently placed on her chest, looking almost like a corpse.

Her chest was wrapped in white cloth, yet a palm-sized bloodstain still stood out vividly.

She seemed to have suffered a severe wound.

“Oppa, if you can move, shall we go outside to talk?”

Yun-seon finished the bowl of porridge cleanly and carefully stepped outside.

Though it was still midday, his body shivered, suggesting late autumn was nearing.

Quick to notice, Seol scurried over and draped a thick robe over Yun-seon’s shoulders.

“What happened?”

The two sat side by side on the steps of the old thatched house.

This place, where Ma Sepung and Seong Gon sometimes stayed to play baduk, was so weathered by storms it was almost embarrassing to call it a house.

Yet, being far removed from the secular world, it was like a paradise for some.

“How about staying here for a while?”

“What?”

Seol gave an awkward smile, looking at Yun-seon’s flustered face.

It was the life she had most desired, yet it came in the form she least wanted.

“Could it be, that their condition…”

Yun-seon felt his heart sink.

Seol’s unnatural demeanor suggested she was hiding something significant.

It was strange that neither his Uncle nor his senior brothers were in sight.

If he’d been asleep for three days, wouldn’t at least one or two have come to update him on what happened?

“No, it’s not that…”

Seol’s cold hands cupped Yun-seon’s face.

Seeing his anxious expression, she found herself summoning courage instinctively.

“The people from Ryeo Nation were safely rescued, and Grandfather and the senior brothers are safe too. Hyunjin unnie is badly injured, but her life isn’t in danger. Though, how much of her martial arts will return is uncertain…”

Hearing Seol’s quick explanation, Yun-seon finally felt relieved.

Having witnessed countless deaths, he had run this path hoping only that no one he knew was among them, feeling powerless.

He was deeply grateful that at least this journey hadn’t ended in regret.

“But…”

“Huh?”

Yun Seol’s eyes grew misty.

Everyone was fine, so why?

A foreboding feeling made Yun-seon’s hands tremble.

Unable to speak, Seol’s lips quivered without producing a sound.

“I’m thinking of cutting ties with the secular world for a while.”

At that moment.

Soaked in autumn rain, Seong Gon approached them with heavy steps, unnoticed until now.

He looked a bit gaunt but carried his usual commanding presence.

Overjoyed, Yun-seon ran to him and buried his face in Seong Gon’s embrace.

By his side, it felt as if a large umbrella shielded him from the cold rain.

To others, he was the coldest Sect Leader of the Taiyi Divine Sect, but to Yun-seon, he was warmer than family.

“This guy…”

Seong Gon, slightly embarrassed, sniffled and moved clumsily with Yun-seon hanging onto him.

Though it must have been bothersome, he didn’t push him away, suggesting he didn’t mind too much.

When Yun Seol brought another bowl of hot fish porridge, Seong Gon, perhaps hungry, gulped it down without chewing.

As the warmth filled his stomach, he felt an illusion that everything would go well from now on.

“Yun-seon, we plan to stay here for a while. Do you mind?”

“No, I’m fine with it… but why?”

Seong Gon deliberately avoided looking at Yun-seon, turning his gaze to a distant peak.

Whether due to the misty rain or his blurred eyes, the mountain scenery looked hazy.

“That pig doesn’t have much time left.”

“……”

Unable to bear the surging emotions, Yun-seon took a deep breath.

The snoring of Ma Sepung, which had seemed comforting moments ago, now felt profoundly sad.

He, too, must have sensed it to some extent.

How could he not have known that the cold body temperature he felt behind him was a sign that death was near?

He had only hoped that the snoring and his peaceful face were signs that all was well.

“I’m getting a bit tired too. It feels like I’ve been running without rest. Hatred, anger—when you carry such emotions in your heart, you need to pause now and then.”

Seong Gon was usually taciturn, but when sad, he became unusually talkative.

When Ryeo Nation fell completely, when Yun Seol’s mother died, when he pulled his dying granddaughter from her mother… her mother’s womb, he didn’t cry.

Even when his beloved Yu I-jeong and his confidant Jo Sang-won died, he didn’t cry.

This time was no different.

He resolved to let out those memories and send them gently into his heart.

“But for the time we have left, I want to spend it happily.”

At his rambling final words, Seol’s sorrowful tears finally burst forth.

Mingled with the autumn rain, the three wept in their own ways for a long while.

如流 (여류), Like a Flowing Stream:
When something such as time or words flows fast and unobstructed like flowing water.