NOVEL NEXT chapter 95 - Wu So’s Token of Gratitude
The graceful flow of swordwork continued. Myungdan thrust his blade in several times over it, disrupting Yeon-a’s forms.
Kang. Kaang. Kang.
The clear ring of steel seized the crowd’s attention.
Following that sound, it was as if a few petals could be seen falling upon the river.
Sohwa did not remember Myungdan from her previous life.
But watching a blade that scattered sunlight like falling blossoms and forms that let attacks slide away naturally brought back one memory about Mount Hua.
Five disciples of Mount Hua went missing and then returned.
In truth, that incident was not disappearance by accident but a defection born of internal division.
Whether a sect or a noble family, no one wanted internal strife exposed outside. So Mount Hua hid the disciples’ disappearance for months.
As she remembered it, at Mount Hua’s request, the Martial Alliance’s branch offices posted wanted notices and made inquiries. And only a few days after the search began, a Mount Hua robe was found on the Yangtze. All worried they had fallen to bandits—but within days the disciples returned to Mount Hua on their own feet.
Since it was Mount Hua’s internal affair, she did not know what happened after.
They were probably severely punished. No matter how young, such a foolish act warranted it.
It was not an important incident, but it was so absurd that she remembered it.
Watching Myungdan and Yeon-a’s duel, Sohwa’s eyes darkened.
'That happened when I was twenty-two, so about two years remain.'
A distasteful thought came to her.
Because of the traits of the Blood Cult group Hae-rak had described—the group with outstanding skill at making human-skin masks, the ones said to be pursuing her.
Coincidence? Those men had worn clothes from a Shaanxi fabric shop.
'The ones who returned might not have been Mount Hua’s disciples at all…'
If Oseoksan could cloud the mind and human-skin masking could deceive appearances, how could one tell them apart?
While her thoughts sank, the duel’s mood blazed hotter and hotter.
“Waaah!”
“Don’t back down!”
Kwaang.
Yeon-a’s strange form traced a great circle, sealing off all of Myungdan’s movements. Myungdan, flushed with frustration, retreated.
But Yeon-a leaped high, landed behind him, and when he twisted quickly, she rotated her wrist and swept her sword once as if giving him time to prepare. At that obvious mercy, color rose in Myungdan’s face.
“Was Wudang’s sword ever that flamboyant?”
“But Yeon-a looks like she’s fighting to show something.”
“My thoughts exactly. It’s like when people dump out all their secret arts during a promotion duel to stand out. Hm, does that young Daoist have ambitions?”
“Haha, you mean the ambition to ‘take Wudang’? Come on—look at the eyes of Wudang’s Sect Leader and the Taeguk Sword Sovereign; honey’s dripping from them. Why would she need that?”
“Then maybe she simply likes to show off? She doesn’t look that type, though.”
Interest that had clung to Wudang and Mount Hua shifted to the promising late-bloomer. Voices analyzing Yeon-a from every angle tickled Sohwa’s ears.
Yeon-a finally came into Sohwa’s eyes.
A martial artist who had not been in the previous life’s duel tournament.
So much had already changed that the future could change as well.
Sohwa held a small hope.
That Yeon-a would inflict a serious wound on Myungdan’s body.
She wanted to confirm whether a dokgo had truly entered him.
Sohwa quietly drew a small throwing blade from her sleeve and set it to her fingertip.
At that moment, Yeon-a glanced this way and their eyes met.
But for some reason, Yeon-a’s large eyes widened further in surprise.
Myungdan did not miss the opening and thrust his sword toward Yeon-a.
Paat.
“Oh no!”
A groan burst beside her.
Yeon-a’s edge had sliced across Myungdan’s upper arm as it passed.
Drops of blood fell to the floor, but fortunately it was his left arm, so Myungdan did not stop the duel.
Yeon-a seemed flustered by having caused a wound. Then she began to press recklessly—apparently deciding to end the duel quickly.
Bang. Kaang.
Yeon-a swept her sword broad and horizontal, smashing into Myungdan’s blade. The force was so fierce that his sword tilted outward for a moment. Not missing the chance, Yeon-a cut up from below again. Myungdan’s blade, rattled by the recoil, left his hand and flew far away.
Taang.
The sword struck the stage with a loud ring.
Having knocked the sword from Myungdan’s hand, Yeon-a straightened her stance.
Doom. Doom.
The drum broke the silence, signaling the match’s end.
“Victory to Yeon-a, Wudang’s third disciple!”
Exclamations poured from all sides.
“Wow, truly incredible. Now I see why everyone said the Sword Sovereign’s disciple would take the crown.”
When the duel ended, the disciples bowed to one another and stepped down from the stage.
The Taeguk Sword Sovereign, seemingly regretful, patted Yeon-a’s shoulder and said something. Wu So gestured somewhere and took hold of Myungdan’s arm. A physician from Mount Hua’s Medical Division must have been called, because someone hurried up, rolled back Myungdan’s robe, and began urgent treatment at once.
Sohwa walked toward the stage. Her fingertips were already damp with blood. Hiding her hand with a long sleeve, she approached Myungdan. It was something she should not do, but she meant to get even a little closer to confirm the dokgo.
But suddenly her path was blocked.
Sohwa looked up—and flinched. Wu So was standing before her, she didn’t know when he had come.
“Not bad sense. You even thought to come right over here. Seems you know how to draw attention.”
At the cryptic remark, Sohwa frowned and glanced aside. The physician was already applying golden wound salve to Myungdan’s arm and binding the cut with clean cloth.
Sohwa swallowed a sigh of regret.
Then Myungdan began to scratch his arm. And, stealthily, his chest and abdomen as well.
As if his whole body itched.
In the instant Sohwa’s eyes darkened, Wu So’s voice pierced her ear.
“Do you remember that I gave you my name token?”
Sohwa nodded. With the hand that had not been cut, she drew out the token and handed it to him.
“Yes, here it is.”
When she returned it, Wu So smiled.
“I promised that if you came to a future tournament, I’d exchange it for my token of gratitude.”
“No. That’s not necessary.”
“Right, here’s the token of grat—what?”
Laughing heartily as he drew out the token of gratitude, Wu So paused.
Sohwa still wanted to keep watching Myungdan, but he left the stage with the physician, apparently headed for the Medical Division.
Only then did Sohwa set aside her regret and focus on Wu So.
Meeting his eyes, Tang Sohwa shook her head.
“I have done nothing worthy of receiving your gratitude, Elder Wu So. It was simply what anyone ought to have done; there is no need for you to repay me.”
There was an audible intake of breath around them.
They seemed quite surprised.
Sohwa could not understand the martial artists’ reaction, nor did she care to. She cupped her fists and finished speaking.
Wu So worked his mouth soundlessly, then asked,
“…Do you perhaps not know what a token of gratitude is?”
“Is it not a token guaranteeing that you will repay a favor later?”
“Yes. It bears my name and marks you as my benefactor; you may freely use my name wherever you go.”
For a martial artist newly stepping into the rivers and lakes, there could be no greater favor.
But for Sohwa—who had no need to roam the world and for whom avoiding attention was best—it was a favor she did not need to accept.
“Your praise for my efforts is more than enough, Elder.”
As she said so, something occurred to her. She turned and looked back.
Where the Tang Clan’s martial artists stood.
Tang Hak was there, looking at her.
Sohwa took him into her gaze, then turned back to Wu So.
“…But if I could lean on your name, Elder, may I ask it for my younger brother instead of myself?”
Her brother’s disappearance on the Yangtze always left her uneasy.
The old matter of Mount Hua disciples’ robes being found on the river now also grated on her mind.
If Tang Hak became known in Hubei and Shaanxi under Wu So’s name, perhaps they would not so easily lose the thread of the search.
“If you ask it, of course I can protect the Tang Clan’s Little Clan Head at any time. But…”
Wu So gave a wry smile.
“It seems your brother does not want that.”
He flicked his eyes past her. Following his gaze, Sohwa frowned.
Tang Hak was turning his back and leaving.
Bewildered by her brother’s inexplicable reaction, Sohwa heard a heavy voice drop onto the crown of her head.
“Fate can be linked artificially through another. But /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ even so, the owner of that bond does not change.”
“…”
“The bond between me and the Little Clan Head would not be natural. In the end, he would be relying on you to receive my protection.”
Wu So spoke with a look of regret.
“An unwanted favor can, at times, become a wound.”
Sohwa still stared where Tang Hak had disappeared. Hidden by the crowd, her brother was no longer in sight.
Watching her, Wu So let out a small laugh.
“I will grant your request anytime, but first—go get the Little Clan Head’s permission.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”
If anything, Wu So looked pleased.
“Senior and junior brothers are brothers all the same; this isn’t unfamiliar. Honestly, when disciples show such sibling affection, it gladdens a teacher’s heart. It’s no bad thing—no need to feel sorry or ashamed.”
“Thank you.”
“All right, off you go.”
“Yes.”
Bowing to Wu So, Sohwa moved at once toward where Tang Hak had vanished. As if on cue, people made way.
Though Wu So and Sohwa had not spoken loudly, the surroundings were so quiet that their words carried quite far.
The Taeguk Sword Sovereign looked silently at Wu So, then spoke.
“Refusing Elder Wu So’s token of gratitude—though it would have been good for my own honor.”
Eavesdropping beside him, Yeon-a smiled.
“The Young Lady is that sort of person.”
Still misreading people, Yeon-a murmured with a pleased look.
“At first I wondered if you’d been brainwashed by the Tang Clan—but I see that wasn’t wrong.”
“Not a single word I told you was false.”
“Truly?”
“…At least everything that happened in the Tang Clan was the truth.”
The Sword Sovereign chuckled and looked down at Yeon-a.
“Are you envious of such strong sibling affection? Looks like you wanted to slip in there yourself.”
Yeon-a shook her head.
“No. I am not their sibling.”
The Wudang prodigy’s unfathomable gaze slipped through the murmuring crowd.