Embracing The White Moon (5)

The time had come to repay my debt.

To Seol Hong-baek, it sounded like the natural duty of one who owed his life.

To Gyeong Se-hwi, it meant something similar, yet different.

It was something he could return, but he had no reason to.

What was already his—why return it, saying “it was yours first”? He had gained everything of the Eight Wasteland Alliance Leader, but he was not the Eight Wasteland Alliance Leader.

‘But it leaves a bad taste.’

Gyeong Se-hwi was honest with himself.

Yes, it unsettled him. He was using what the Eight Wasteland Alliance Leader had stolen, and he wasn’t brazen enough to feign ignorance before the heir of the robbed clan.

If his coming to the Seol Clan was fate, then handing over what they desired was destiny.

And what connected that fate and destiny was Seol Hong-baek’s kindness.

Had he not been taken in, he might have been carted off unconscious or dumped in some alley.

In such a harsh world, the number of lunatics roaming around are uncountable. Killers who slay for fun, traffickers who sell men to dark organizations for labor.

He was the one who had erased that peril entirely.

Naturally, he could be called a benefactor.

“I do not know all the arts that were lost. But I know some secret techniques and foundational skills. I will hand them all to you.”

“!”

“If you seek other arts, regretfully, I know no more. Yet you need not be disappointed. Foundational skills are a sect’s very base, and secret techniques are its symbol of strength—”

“Wait.”

Seol Hong-baek raised his hand.

“Please, just a moment.”

Gyeong Se-hwi regarded him with indifferent eyes.

His breath quickened slightly, his face flushed red.

He struggled to calm his pounding heart and surging astonishment. That he restrained himself even now was remarkable.

After a moment.

“Do you recall what you said when you first saw me? Before you collapsed.”

“Tianshan Sword Sect.”

“Yes. You said Tianshan Sword Sect when you saw me.”

Seol Hong-baek swallowed.

“Do you know the history of the Tianshan Sword Sect?”

He believed that he knew it. And of course, Gyeong Se-hwi did know it.

But he did not open his mouth.

Seol Hong-baek continued, his voice trembling.

“The Tianshan Sword Sect was annihilated by the Eight Wasteland Alliance, branded as the worst demonic alliance in Murim history.”

The most infamous demonic group in Murim’s history.

The Eight Wasteland Alliance did not rule this era. Hence words like that could be spoken.

Even in that age, there were those who decried the Eight Wasteland Alliance as a demonic alliance.

Centered around the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families, they were categorized as the righteous people of Murim—the ones who had lost power.

‘Well, for them, it was only natural.’

The Leader of the Eight Wasteland Alliance had left no enemies alive. Countless had died by his hand.

By numbers alone, who would not call it a demonic alliance?

“The Leader of the Eight Wasteland Alliance burned mountains, stole treasures, and plundered manuals of every art. Our ancestors smuggled the young away, and so the line survived.”

“……”

“But trained without proper masters, our skills could never reach their true potential. Our ancestors, unable to live in barren lands, entered the Central Plains, and in time, lost over half the arts they carried.”

It was a world full of heirs who let their ancestors’ legacies be swept away or sold.

For whatever reason, the Seol Clan lost Tianshan’s arts. Yet, for them to be able to grow into a respected Murim clan in Sichuan, that alone was remarkable.

“Thus was how the present Seol Clan was established. In truth, aside from the direct line, almost none know we are descendants of Tianshan.”

Prejudice in the Central Plains was too strong for them to live openly with pride. So the clan passed its roots only to its direct line.

Thus was born the White Sword Seol Clan.

“But, how did you know I was a descendant of Tianshan?”

“……”

“Even as generations have passed, with the forms of our techniques altered at their root—how did you see that our training still rested on the Seven Purities Sword?”

“……”

“Just who are you?”

At last, this moment came.

He had steadied his heart, but had yet to set clear direction for how to live.

Yet Gyeong Se-hwi neither faltered nor wavered.

He spoke calmly.

“Is my identity truly so important?”

“It is.”

“Isn’t it more important for your clan to recover its true supreme arts than to know who I am?”

“By no means.”

Seol Hong-baek’s eyes hardened.

“We were too weak to guard our treasures. A century has long passed. If we can reclaim them, we welcome it with both hands. If we cannot, we have no right to resent anyone.”

“Is it not your clan’s long-cherished wish to reclaim your ancestors’ legacy?”

“It is. But never have we obsessed so much as to lament our lot, never have we cursed the world for past misfortune.”

“I see.”

“What matters is how we have lived.”

“……”

“Whatever your intent, we have never taken favor without cost. We may bury grudges, but never ignore kindness.”

“It is payment. The price for saving my life.”

“If you will not tell me who you are, or how you know of Tianshan, then I cannot accept its arts.”

Gyeong Se-hwi closed his eyes.

‘Conviction…’

Conviction is what makes a man.

Had the Seol ancestors despaired and lived as wastrels, the White Sword Seol Clan would not exist today.

In this harsh world, to live with conviction, one must stake one’s life. The past patriarchs had done so, and so would Seol Hong-baek.

Gyeong Se-hwi gazed at him and spoke.

“Flexible justice is cowardice, but conviction without flexibility is mere obstinacy.”

“!”

“But the way you stubbornly live the present, Patriarch, seems remarkable in my eyes.”

Your conviction is no conviction at all.

Yet it is not bad.

Listening, Seol Hong-baek suddenly thought this youth’s years far exceeded what they seemed.

Creak.

Leaning back in his chair, Gyeong Se-hwi looked up at the ceiling.

‘Father.’

Adoptive, yet his only father. The one who had taken in a clueless child and made him his son.

He had truly sweated and bled to repay that kindness.

Yet when his talent outgrew usefulness, his father distanced himself from the adopted son who had raised the value of Divine Iron.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

Did his ailing father know of Gyeong Do-cheon’s deed? Did he consent?

Gyeong Se-hwi could not know. He thought ‘no’—but who can know a man’s heart?

Even if so, he bore no resentment. Had he not been taken in, he would never have grown to be the man he is now.

He had lived ready to give his life for his adoptive parents.

That was enough. Even if they had meant to take his life, he might have felt sorrow, but no grudge.

‘Regardless, someday I must go back.’

A severed bond. A discarded name.

‘I will no longer bear the surname Gyeong.’

I am not the Eight Wasteland Alliance Leader. Nor am I the Gyeong Se-hwi of the past.

I am only myself.

Not simply because Gyeong Do-cheon had once killed him. That severed the bond, but the reborn Gyeong Se-hwi returned with too much realized.

‘The grace I received from the Gyeong Clan ends with my years of service and one stab’s debt.’

Then who am I?

What is my name?

“My name is Jin-hyeon.”

Jin-hyeon.

The name of the Alliance Leader, known only to his closest few.

“So, Young Master Jin.”

“I have no surname.”

“?!”

Seol Hong-baek’s eyes shook.

He had thought Jin was the surname and Hyeon the name. But it seemed not.

In truth, the Eight Wasteland Alliance Leader had borne a surname. But Gyeong Se-hwi had no desire to inherit it.

He needed no surname. The name alone was enough.

Gyeong Se-hwi—no, Jin-hyeon—spoke.

“I gained Tianshan’s arts by chance.”

“…Truly?”

“Yes.”

It might sound absurd, but Jin-hyeon’s face and eyes told truth.

Because it was true. At first, living as the Eight Wasteland Alliance Leader in a dream made him shudder. But as time passed, that experience showed him a new world.

Without his memories, he would never have known of Tianshan’s arts. Thus Jin-hyeon’s knowledge was undeniably a fortuitous chance.

Of course, Seol Hong-baek could not easily believe.

A hundred years ago, when the sect was destroyed, only the Leader of the Eight Wasteland Alliance and his ancestors knew the secret techniques. Before the clan was founded, many arts had already been lost.

However they were lost, that someone should gain them by chance and arrive here now was hard to believe.

Seol Hong-baek studied Jin-hyeon, then nodded.

“Very well. Since you call it chance, I will believe it for now.”

“It is the truth.”

“But how did you speak of Tianshan the moment you saw me?”

He thought the man could have just accepted it; he was being so difficult.

But even the Eight Wasteland Alliance Leader, in Seol Hong-baek’s place, would not have taken it lightly.

In the martial world, there are coincidences that feel like fate, but no fates that feel like coincidence. Swallow what your vessel cannot hold, and ruin follows.

Seol Hong-baek knew this well. That was why he was cautious—before conviction, before stubbornness.

“Why did you take me in?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was it simply pity, that I was too injured?”

“Of course…”

“Then you could have left me in the outer guest quarters. Why bring me into the inner court?”

Seol Hong-baek fell silent.

Jin-hyeon’s words held weight. One did not bring an unknown man into the inner court.

Yet he had. More than mere courtesy.

“You knew at first sight. You must have felt it instinctively. That sense of familiarity.”

“!!”

“So did I. I too felt you were familiar.”

Seol Hong-baek swallowed hard.

“And that is…?”

“Your internal energy.”

“?!”

“Lost and altered though it is, the root remains. The reason you felt familiarity is because of the Tianshan arts I cultivate.”

The same cultivation method varies with its practitioner.

But those of the same lineage share a sensitivity. And among them, Tianshan’s arts were supreme.

Martial arts developed to bind disparate people into one.

Naturally, they resonated.

“My unconscious brought me here. And your kindness saved me.”

“……”

“By my life’s debt, I now pass proper martial learning to a fellow heir. It is not my aid, but your virtue aiding itself.”

Jin-hyeon bowed his head.

“I will repay my debt fully.”

Looking at Jin-hyeon with trembling eyes, Seol Hong-baek sighed.

“I do not know your circumstances. I think you speak no lie, but it is hard to believe outright.”

“I understand.”

“But I know at least that your heart to favor us is true.”

“……”

“I will not be stubborn further. If your heart is so, then it is we who should kneel and beg.”

Seol Hong-baek rose and bowed.

“I beg you, grant us your teachings.”

“I only pass on what I know. It is no teaching.”

“To us, it is teaching. How we could ever repay this grace…”

He had not even confirmed whether these were truly the Tianshan arts.

Yet Seol Hong-baek bowed his head, so desperate was he.

“There is no need to weigh debt and favor further. I ask only one request.”

“Of course. If it is within my power, I will do anything.”

He looked ready to cut off his own limbs if asked.

Jin-hyeon cleared his throat quietly and said:

“I need a place to stay, but I have no money.”

“??”

“By any chance, would it be possible…… to prepare a small hut outside?”

Seol Hong-baek’s jaw dropped.