Toil In Vain

“Un-ah, it’s been a long time. If not for that sword, I might not have recognized you.”

Right Shadow suppressed his pain and tried to sound as gentle as possible. Inside, he was boiling with rage, but knowing her true identity, he dared not strike recklessly.

“Yes. You still look just as repulsive, ahjussi.”

Ju-un replied flatly, without emotion. Though Right Shadow was displeased, he hid it and asked politely again.

“By any chance… did Sword Immortal come with you?”

Even before hearing an answer, his whole body trembled. If the Sword Immortal appeared, the Black Butterfly Shadows would be annihilated. Truthfully, even Ju-un would struggle alone unless her elder brother was present.

“Well… why don’t you return it before he arrives?”

Ju-un saw through his obvious ploy and felt annoyed. She already knew their infamy, so she had no desire to waste words. She just wanted to finish her master’s errand and be done.

“If you won’t hand it over, then I can just kill you and take it.”

As Ju-un approached, Right Shadow pulled the whisk close to his body, bracing for a sudden strike.

‘Withdraw, for now.’

Whether the Sword Immortal was near or not, retreat was the only option. With most of the Black Butterflies wounded, a decisive battle was impossible.

“I don’t have it.”

“Then it seems you don’t want to see with both eyes ever again.”

Ju-un thought he was lying to escape. Three needles were suddenly in her hand. Right Shadow, lacking the strength even to deflect them, turned pale.

“I truly don’t have it! The Sword God’s eldest disciple burned it before our very eyes.”

He looked to his fallen subordinates for support, but none could help. Most were unconscious or close to it.

“It’s true. It’s true—believe me.”

Right Shadow rambled in panic, pleading with Ju-un, shame and fear twisted in his face. He was the feared leader of assassins, destroyer of countless small sects, but at the brink of death such infamy meant nothing. To survive this moment, he would grovel as low as needed.

“Hm.”

Seeing his desperate manner, Ju-un wavered. Surely he wouldn’t lie under such humiliation before his men. Yet,

“Then why did you do that to the boy?”

She pointed her sword toward Yun-seon, still unconscious amidst the chaos. If they saw the scripture burn, they could have killed both disciples—why keep and torment him instead?

“We just wanted to see if the boy had a copied manuscript.”

Right Shadow improvised quickly. In truth, part of him had wondered the same, so it wasn’t an outright lie.

Luckily, Ju-un seemed to believe him. Hope rose that he might survive this crisis.

“If you let Sword Immortal believe you never saw me, I’ll repay the favor someday.”

Ju-un hesitated. Though the leader of the Black Butterflies was vicious, killing him in his injured state would be easy. Yet she had no grudge against him—why bother? She shook her head.

“If what you say about not having the scripture is a lie, my master will come find you personally.”

“Of course! If it turns out otherwise, I’ll come find you myself and commit seppuku if I must.”

Afraid she might suddenly change her mind, Right Shadow flailed his hands and feet in exaggerated earnestness.

“Then go.”

Three fine creases formed on Ju-un’s delicate brow. Just being acquainted with him felt like guilt by association. Disgust welled up, and she turned sharply away.

For Right Shadow, this was a priceless chance. The needle lodged in his eye was beyond retrieval, but his legs still worked. He planned to descend the mountain with what men he could still muster—and with Yun-seon. A scout unit had been waiting below since yesterday.

Right Shadow rushed to the still-unmoving Yun-seon. He had to extract the scripture’s contents before the boy died.

“Hold it!”

Just as he reached for Yun-seon’s arm to hoist him up, Ju-un’s white robes fluttered before him, blocking the way.

“Who said you could take this child?”

Ju-un struck his chest with the flat of her sword. No inner qi, just sheer speed and precision—he had no time to react. Right Shadow toppled backward, unable to even cry out, coughing blood as the residual energy from his earlier Taiyi Divine Art churned inside him.

Ju-un caught Yun-seon before he collapsed and checked his condition. His right arm’s veins had been burned black. His pulse trembled faintly—he could die at any moment.

“That boy caused my brother’s death. Let me take him.”

Regaining his senses, Right Shadow pleaded desperately. If the boy was taken, the scripture’s secrets would slip from his grasp forever.

“My master gave me two orders: recover the scripture—and save this boy! If you want to take something, take your broken butterflies instead.”

Ju-un’s cold gaze bore down on him. Her intent was clear: try to take Yun-seon, and she would kill him.

“F…fine. Understood.”

He hesitated, but there was no other choice. Reason told him retreat was best. If the Sword Immortal took the boy, he would at least survive—and later, Right Shadow could strike again. After all, no one else knew Yun-seon was the key to the scripture.

“Let’s go!”

He gathered what Black Butterflies could still walk and prepared to descend. He glanced at Ju-un but gave no parting words—only a silent vow to repay this humiliation tenfold.

Yun-seon’s injuries were far worse than they seemed. The Taiyi heat had damaged his very heart’s meridians—beyond any common medicine. The fact he still breathed was a miracle.

‘What should I do…’

In haste, Ju-un pulled out a Danjeong Pill. Normally for internal injuries, even holding one in the mouth could revive a common man. She broke it in half and shoved it into Yun-seon’s mouth.

“Ugh…”

After some time, Yun-seon groaned, face contorted. Ju-un, who had been resting her chin on her hand, strode over and poured water from her canteen onto him.

“Ah!”

The cold splash shocked him awake. A stranger with a scowling face loomed before him.

“Wh…who are you? Ack!”

He started to ask but screamed, clutching his right arm. The pain he hadn’t felt while unconscious now rushed in all at once.

“It’s going to hurt, a lot.”

Ju-un folded her arms and looked down at him, detached.

“Who… are you?”

Yun-seon bit his lip against the pain and asked. On closer look, her face seemed vaguely familiar.

“I’m Ju-un, disciple of Sword Immortal Yi Mu-yeong¹. I’m about four or five years older than you, so I’ll speak informally.”

“Ah… yes.”

Intimidated by Ju-un’s bluntness, Yun-seon answered meekly. Sword Immortal Yi Mu-yeong—wasn’t she his master’s junior sister? He’d heard she had a disciple, but not one so curt and cold.

“What happened?”

Ju-un sighed lightly. Explaining in detail was tedious, but brushing it off would only invite more questions.

“My master ordered me to save you. I did, so no need to thank me.”

Fortunately, Yun-seon was perceptive. The Sword Immortal must have sensed his master’s plight and sent her—but too late.

“Thank you… sajeo².”

“What?”

At that, Ju-un’s brows knitted in distaste.

“Creepy. Just call me by my name.”

She answered curtly, dusting off her clothes as she rose. She wanted no bonds, no entanglements—especially with a boy who looked unlikely to live long. Sympathy might trap her in obligations she didn’t want.

“Anyway, where’s the scripture?”

Relieved to be free of Right Shadow, Yun-seon stiffened at her question.

‘Don’t tell me… the Sword Immortal too?’

The Commentary on the Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra was just a simple exegesis. Even as he memorized it, Yun-seon never understood why they craved it so. But it had cost him both master and brother, so one conviction was clear: trust no one.

“It no longer exists. My sahyung burned it.”

He forced a clumsy smile, but sweat drenched his palms in fear she might see through the lie.

“Hm.”

Confirming Right Shadow’s words were true, Ju-un actually felt relief. With only the boy left, her master’s errand was nearly complete.

“The scripture’s gone and your life’s saved. So—we part ways here.”

Yun-seon was glad she believed him, yet despair crept in: if she left, he would face the long road alone.

“Um…”

He faltered, watching her carefully.

“What?”

“Could you… come with me?”

“What?”

Ju-un stared at him, dumbfounded. She looked almost angry, but Yun-seon had no other choice.

“My master told me to go to Dhuta Mountain. But…”

“But?”

“Could you at least come with me down to the next village—Geumdang?”

Ju-un examined him. His right arm was already rotting, stinking; pus oozed from torn flesh. If she left, he’d likely die on the mountainside.

“Well… it’s on my way. Up till there.”

“Thank you. Thank you!”

Despite her curt reply, Yun-seon beamed, hopping with joy. Feeling oddly guilty, Ju-un turned her head away and strode down the path first.

“What of the scripture?”

A man in a blue robe glared at Right Shadow with piercing eyes. Right Shadow too was baffled—none of his scouts, meant to guard the mountain pass, were anywhere to be seen.

“What have you done?”

Unable to contain his rage, Right Shadow hurled his whisk at the man.

“How dare you!”

The whisk flew true—but not a hair touched him. With a mere flick of his sleeve, the man split it in two. White dust from its bristles scattered between them.

“Where is the scripture?”

The thunderous cry of the blue-robed man sent Right Shadow and his men collapsing. Wounds throbbed as if struck by blades. Half were already unconscious.

“We are not your subordinates!”

But Right Shadow’s spirit didn’t falter. He blamed this man’s schemes for his brother’s death, and his scouts’ fate was unknown. To yield now meant extermination.

“Of course not. How could I be kin to worms like you?”

The man looked down with contempt, then seized the neck of a fallen Black Butterfly—their captain.

“Ghk…”

“The scripture?”

“Th-the… second… to the second (disciple)…”

Unable to endure, he confessed, driven by instinct to live. But the man crushed his throat instantly. The head dropped with a dull thud—no scream escaped.

“You cur!!!”

Right Shadow screamed so hard blood spattered his lips. He and his brother had been pawns of this duplicitous fiend. How utterly foolish they’d been.

“If you want the Black Butterflies to survive, bring me the scripture.”

The man in blue vanished without looking back. Among the corpses of his black-cloaked kin, Right Shadow howled like a beast.

노이무공(勞而無功), Toil in Vain:
To labor in vain, all effort wasted.