Chapter 45 - Habits Are Frightening

The Single Flower Sword Supreme came to see me again the following night.

“They say things come in threes, don’t they? Let’s fight one last time tonight.”

I couldn’t tell whether she had come because she valued her promise to Father or because she had enjoyed yesterday’s duel.

“Gladly.”

I readily accepted the third duel.

“After yesterday’s draw, I went home and slept all day. When I lost on the first night, I didn’t sleep a wink, but after we drew, I slept like a log. So well that I wondered whether I’d ever slept that soundly before.”

“So you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“That’s right. I’ve never slept deeply. Do you know what I even found myself thinking?”

“What was that?”

“Do I need to come here and spar every day just to get a good night’s sleep?”

I laughed, and the Single Flower Sword Supreme smiled as she drew her sword.

After a round of fighting, we stepped apart to rest for a while. Whenever a question occurred to either of us, we asked it then and there.

“On your twenty-third attack earlier, you dodged left. Why left? Wouldn’t going right have been faster?”

“Moving right was meant to limit your options, Second Young Master. If I had dodged right, you would have had three choices. But by dodging left, I left you only two.”

“Because of my center of gravity.”

“Exactly.”

Once you reached the level of the Sword Supreme and me, you could replay a fight in your mind like a game of Go, even after exchanging hundreds of moves.

Whenever I asked a question, she shared her thoughts without holding anything back.

You could tell by listening whether someone was truly being sincere with you. Father would scold me for claiming to know what was in another person’s heart, but at least the Sword Supreme answered me sincerely.

She, too, asked me questions whenever something puzzled her, and I answered with exactly what I thought. Just as I sensed her sincerity, she would sense that there was nothing hollow in my answers. Teaching her was no loss to me. As with teaching Yi An, you often learned more in the process of teaching.

“I can’t remember the last time I immersed myself in martial arts so purely. Perhaps this is the first.”

Given her age and standing, calling this a first was no small thing.

“Then imagine how it feels for me.”

“Shall we begin again?”

“Gladly!”

This time, as though we had arranged it beforehand, we flew up into the air to fight. It was an aerial battle in the most literal sense.

Whenever one of us seemed about to fall, the other launched an attack that offered a foothold to spring from, sending the opponent aloft again. Neither of us ever attempted a surprise attack in the process. We helped each other stay airborne as we exchanged sword strikes.

Brilliant swordlight embroidered the night sky. We kept flying until we had exhausted all our internal energy, then landed in the training grounds.

Only our breathing could be heard in the training grounds. On the first night, we would have judged the outcome by who caught their breath first. Now, neither of us cared.

“Do you have any wine?”

She, who never drank, was asking for wine.

“Yes, I do.”

I went inside and brought some out.

“This is good wine.”

“You know your wine, then?”

“Not drinking doesn’t mean I know nothing about it. Besides, I used to drink.”

The two of us drank together. Sharing wine with the Sword Supreme after a duel had a special charm. For someone who claimed to have given it up long ago, she drank remarkably well—enough to make me wonder whether she secretly drank alone.

“Second Young Master, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Senior.”

“Why have you changed so suddenly? You weren’t always like this. I never observed you closely, but I still had a rough idea of what sort of person you were.”

“It wasn’t a sudden change. I’ve been preparing for a long time.”

“You were hiding your true self?”

“Something like that. If I had shown my true colors when I was too young, my brother would have killed me. I kept my head down until I could protect myself.”

“You really are a frightening man, Second Young Master.”

When the bottle we had shared back and forth was empty, she spoke.

“Come, let’s have one last round.”

I was startled. The Single Flower Sword Supreme’s manner of speaking had changed.

She had always addressed me formally, but now she had naturally slipped into the familiar speech of a senior to a junior.

“This may sound strange, but being with you feels like being with a friend.”

Perhaps she had sensed a glimpse of my previous life. Around Father or Yi An, I constantly made an effort to act more mischievous and playful, so I wouldn’t bring the darkness, hardships, and long years of that life with me. But I hadn’t done that around her. During our duels in particular, I had been utterly serious.

We learn from those more skilled than us, and from those less skilled as well. The insights that come from those differences can be so powerful that we often neglect what we can learn from an equal, dismissing it as more of the same—just the same greens served with the same rice.

But today, I realized that those same greens and rice could make the finest feast.

We fought after talking, fought as we learned, and fought as we gained new insights. Now we set down our wine cups and fought. I dared to say it:

Our fighting was graceful. There was no killing intent, no desire to harm each other—only the nobility of enjoying a duel.

Throughout it all, I never once mentioned the Blood Heaven Saber Demon. I even forgot my intention to bring her over to my side.

And so we exchanged our final moves, which collided with tremendous force and burst apart in a dazzling display.

“Forgive my impertinence, Senior, but I feel as though we’ve shared a friendship through our swords.”

She agreed with my impression.

“I don’t know what our relationship will become, but I will always remember the duel we shared today, Second Young Master.”

The Single Flower Sword Supreme, too, treasured the value of this duel.

“Yes, I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. Thank you for teaching me so much.”

“Was I really the one doing the teaching?”

Perhaps she thought she had gained more from it.

But I was certain I had learned more. She had picked up a few lessons; I had absorbed everything.

The past three days of dueling had given me much to consider about the Heaven-Soaring Sword Art, shaking the solid framework of the complete mastery I had attained.

I could tell. The barrier of tenth-level complete mastery had crumbled, and my attainment had begun advancing toward twelfth-level complete mastery. My heart began to race at this new change, the first in a long time.

We did not speak our farewells.

The Single Flower Sword Supreme drew the Single Flower Sword and extended it toward me. I answered with the Black Demon Sword.

CLANG!

With that clear farewell of sword meeting sword, our duels came to an end.

* * *

Back in her quarters, the Single Flower Sword Supreme was drinking alone.

Now that her duels with Geom Mugeuk were over, a host of emotions arose within her.

Three days had passed as though she had been under a spell.

She remembered the first night, when she had lost.

All manner of thoughts had crossed her mind that night. She had even considered putting on a mask, going back, and killing Geom Mugeuk.

The woman she had been that night and the woman she was today were entirely different. She was the same person, yet at least where her relationship with Geom Mugeuk was concerned, she had become someone else.

Just then, Sa Ujong’s voice came from outside the thatched cottage.

“It’s Ujong.”

He entered carrying a dish to accompany her wine. Setting it on the table, Sa Ujong asked,

“Is something troubling you?”

In all the time he had served at her side, he had never seen her drink. Yet today, she had suddenly taken to wine.

'This is a bad sign.'

That was how Sa Ujong judged the situation.

The Single Flower Sword Supreme had moved so discreetly that Sa Ujong knew nothing of the duels over the past three days.

She gave no answer to his question.

At times like this, Sa Ujong felt deeply worthless. Not once had she ever opened her heart to him. He had assumed that was simply because she was emotionally barren, but why had she suddenly started drinking?

“Does it perhaps have something to do with the Second Young Master?”

The Single Flower Sword Supreme glanced at him. Her eyes were cold, warning him not to talk nonsense.

“Nothing has happened.”

Sa Ujong quickly bowed his head.

“I spoke out of turn. Forgive me.”

Sa Ujong had a remedy tailored to her foul moods.

“Oh, I brought someone new. He’s waiting in the secret chamber...”

“Enough!”

“Pardon?”

“Please... stop bringing men to me now.”

“!”

Sa Ujong was utterly startled.

It wasn’t her telling him to stop bringing men that shocked him. The Sword Supreme had addressed him politely. It struck him like a blow to the head.

'What? Why is she suddenly acting like this?'

He had taken pride in the special distinction of being the only person she addressed informally.

He wondered whether he had misheard, but he hadn’t.

The Single Flower Sword Supreme let out a soft sigh.

“I should have stopped this long ago. No, I should never have started in the first place.”

The trouble had begun when Sa Ujong first brought her a young man, and she succumbed to a moment of lust.

Just once! Yes, only once. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had slept with a man. She would indulge just this once!

But once the box of desire was opened, there was no such thing as just once.

Once became twice, and twice became three times.

When Sa Ujong told her that the men wanted this, and that paying them so generously meant she was actually helping them, she squeezed her eyes shut. In truth, later on, she no longer even felt guilty.

Lust had become a habit.

Habit was more frightening than lust. She couldn’t stop, even though she hardly enjoyed it anymore.

But now it was time to stop. After finishing her duels with Geom Mugeuk, she had felt that the time had come to begin something new. Whether with Geom Mugeuk or without him.

“Then I’ll send him back tonight. If you ever ask...”

“This will never happen again. Do you understand?”

Under her cold gaze, Sa Ujong bowed his head.

“I will bear that in mind.”

“You may leave. And if you lay a hand on those young men in the name of keeping this secret, I will kill you myself.”

Until now, she had made certain the young men were looked after: that they were properly paid and sent away alive. She had ensured that Sa Ujong couldn’t kill them to preserve the secret.

“That will not happen.”

After hastily bowing in farewell, Sa Ujong turned away.

His expression was rigid. He had used the men to win her favor, believing that this intimate secret had secured his position as her unassailable second-in-command.

Yet what was this unfamiliar coldness? Where had this confidence come from?

He had been certain he would be the next Sword Supreme.

Her heart was wavering. No, it was turning away from him.

He knew the reason better than anyone: the one man who had shaken her recently.

'Geom Mugeuk!'

* * *

That night, someone was waiting in Sa Ujong’s quarters.

The woman’s name was Cheong Seon.

One of the Soul-Seizing Demon’s five disciples, she was a ghost sorcerer.

As Sa Ujong entered the room, Cheong Seon ran into his arms. They had been lovers for a year now, and their passion was at its height.

Nestled against him, she spoke with a faintly disgruntled expression.

“Can’t you take that painting down?”

Her gaze was on the painting hanging on the wall. The woman in it was the Single Flower Sword Supreme.

“Are you jealous of a painting, too?”

“It’s not jealousy. I know how loyal you are, but do you really need a painting of that woman in your bedroom?”

“I didn’t become the Northern Heaven Sword House’s second-in-command for nothing.”

“I know. But it still bothers me every time I see it.”

Cheong Seon led Sa Ujong to the bed.

“Do you know something? This is the first time you’ve asked to see me. I’ve always been the one coming to you.”

“Is it?”

“You’re the most taciturn man in the Cult.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Because of that old hag, the Sword Supreme.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry.”

Cheong Seon pressed herself against him, and Sa Ujong embraced her fiercely, as he always did.

But his gaze was fixed on the painting on the wall. The burning heat in his eyes was not loyalty.

Cheong Seon had no idea that, even at this moment, her man was thinking of another woman. A woman far older than herself, at that.

When the moans of pleasure subsided, words that would change their fate slipped from Sa Ujong’s lips—the very words that marked the beginning of the end in any relationship.

“... I have a favor to ask.”