Chapter Text
The invitation to the Northern Palace had been sent out well in advance, just like the one to the Beast Palace, as they were located too far away. Consequently, they needed more time to arrive on time. But such consideration wasn't even necessary. They knew perfectly well what day was approaching and began preparing months in advance.
When the letter arrived, they were already halfway across the North Sea. The messenger from the Ghost Sect carefully handed over the envelope, trembling from the cold. And not just from the cold.
This was his first time being entrusted with such an important task. He had only ever heard stories about the nobility of these people, and now he stood before Seol Sobaek himself, the Head of the Ice Northern Palace of the North Sea. Although calling them one of the Outer Palaces felt wrong.
Before him stood a young man with sharp, precise features. His face was devoid of any emotion, as if carved from the very ice of the North Sea. His entire figure commanded reverence. The warriors beside him, faithfully accompanying their lord, radiated an icy aura.
The disciple himself was a child of the war, meaning he was just a child when the Second Great War of Murim against the Magyo bastards took place. Because of this, he spent a good half of his youth listening to stories about the Great Alliance of Heavenly Comrades.
Of course, he had heard that the Head of the Northern Palace, Seol Sobaek, then just a young lord and a mere youth, did not participate in the final battle. But that wasn't so important, he had heard about that battle from every corner anyway. The main thing was...
"Seo... S-Seol Sobaek-nim! Please wait!" the disciple exclaimed as the member of the Heavenly Comrades Alliance began to turn to leave.
Seol Sobaek raised an eyebrow. Realizing his blunder, the disciple lowered his voice. He gathered his strength and began to speak more clearly and confidently.
"Forgive me for taking your time, but I wanted to know... Is it true that you personally fought the Magyo at such a young age, alongside the Great Hero of Mount Hua?" At the end, the disciple's voice dropped as if he were asking about a secret.
It seemed incredible to him how such a young man back then could stand against the cultists. How strong must he have been? Although the fact that Seol Sobaek had been personally acquainted with the Great Hero of the Mount Hua Sect even before his appointment as Commander spoke volumes.
But he didn't get the answer he expected.
"That is not my merit. It was all thanks to... the Knightly Sword of Mount Hua." Seol Sobaek's eyes darkened. No one noticed the slight pause he made before uttering one of the thousand nicknames the people had coined for Cheong Myeong.
The disciple couldn't help but notice the tension among the North Sea warriors. Even though a festival awaited, celebrated by all of Cheonwon, Seol Sobaek's gaze was strangely cold.
Weren't they heading to Mount Hua to celebrate with the other Alliance members? Why this atmosphere?
But the lad wasn't a fool and quickly bowed out. It was better not to know what went on in the minds of the strong.
Seol Sobaek could understand the disciple's feelings. For that disciple, it was just a festival. A celebration of victory over the demonic spawn that had plunged the world into chaos for a second time. A celebration of their complete eradication.
But...
Sobaek couldn't rejoice in the victory. He could never, under any circumstances, think of this victory as something good. Yes, perhaps that was arrogant. He had experienced their strength firsthand and understood this outcome was the best possible, with nearly minimal losses. But...
He just couldn't. No. Just no.
Few paid attention to their Commander's age, as he behaved as if he were much older than all of them. But if you thought about it, Cheong Myeong was younger than Seol Sobaek was now. He was barely in his twenties, yet he was at the very center of the war, constantly sacrificing himself for others.
In the end, sacrificing himself.
Seol Sobaek have done the same?
No. He could not have. Not then, not now. He never could have.
In fact, it was Dojang who had insisted he not participate in the final battle against the Heavenly Demon.
"You're a child. So, act like one. Children aren't supposed to fight," Cheong Myeong had said back then, ruffling his hair. Then he left him and several other promising representatives from all factions behind. Strangely, everyone had agreed quickly then.
"You were too young for war too," the thought constantly flickered in his mind.
But you, unlike me, remained forever young.
But Dojang had been too essential for the war. He couldn't retreat into the shadows at any moment. His strength was beyond human comprehension, and his rapid development was terrifying. No one could leave such a monster alone.
Sometimes, terrible thoughts crept into Seol Sobaek's mind.
Dojang never reached his limit. His peak strength.
If fate had given him just a little more time, a bit more, just a tiny bit... Cheong Myeong might have survived that battle with the Heavenly Demon...
If only...
But that remained in the realm of "if only" and "might have been."
In reality, he would never see him again. His body was buried three meters under the earth on Mount Hua.
Seol Sobaek regretted with his entire being that on that fateful day, Dojang had deemed him too weak and hadn't taken him along.
Although, what could he have done? He was too weak.
Seol Sobaek clenched his teeth so hard they grated. His eyes grew bloodshot. Or perhaps with something else.
If only he had been stronger back then...
But even now, he couldn't compare to even a tenth of Cheong Myeong's strength. Even though over a decade had passed. Time had simultaneously dragged like resin and flown by like a spring breeze. So quickly that before you could turn around, he was holding a new invitation to Mount Hua again.
"Let's move out. Since the invitation has arrived, we must hurry."
Right.
The hole in his chest still gaped, unfilled by anything.
Dojang.
.Forgive me.
.
.
.
This little child still hasn't been able to forgive you for your death.
* * *
"Ha-ha... How many years, how many winters. Long time no see, Baek-A."
Such a familiar and yet now-strange spirit beast. A letter was tied to its neck. Meng So knew what was in it. How could he not? The same invitation for thirteen years. Such was stability.
When he tried to pet Baek-A again, the marten slipped from his hands like water. Its fur scattered in the weak breeze.
Meng So frowned almost imperceptibly. Perhaps, due to the lack of opportunity to absorb pure qi, Baek-A was slowly weakening?
But that was impossible. Mount Hua had many different disciples with vast amounts of qi. Baek-A simply couldn't not absorb their qi. But with each year, it grew thinner, and its fur fell out in clumps. Meng So saw it only once a year, but that was enough to slowly trace its changes.
"Hah. Judging your appearance while I look no better myself." Meng So finally managed to ruffle the displeased Baek-A, who this time didn't dodge and just stared ahead with empty eyes.
If you didn't look closely at Meng So, he might seem unchanged. But someone who knew him well could tell immediately that much had changed. More wrinkles had formed on the Beast Lord's face in recent years than in his entire life before. He often locked himself in his study with a bottle of wine and talked to someone.
You didn't need to be particularly smart to understand to whom. Meng So only drank like that with...
Meng So took a deep breath and helped the little beast climb onto his shoulder. He walked a bit closer to the edge of the cliff. The Beast Palace was almost at Sichuan. In the past, Baek-A would run to him before he had even taken a step outside the palace.
"Sometimes I thought you understood him best of all," Meng So said, stroking the marten's head with his finger. Finally unable to resist, Baek-A began to nuzzle and snort in its own manner. Despite everything, this guy hadn't changed one bit.
"But now I understand that even you didn't know what was going on in his head. Even though you were always by his side." Baek-A sighed again and then nudged its head to the side.
"What the hell did he have to go through at such a young age to turn out like that?" Meng So asked with a sigh, but silence answered him.
No one knows.
He never managed to trust them and took his burden with him to the grave. Or maybe he did tell someone, and that person swore on their life never to tell anyone. Who knows.
Now no one would give them an answer.
If only he had been stronger. Perhaps then Cheong Myeong wouldn't have repeated his ancestor's fate.
At first, Meng So felt only respect for him as a descendant of the great Saint Sword of the Plum Blossoms. No more, no less.
But now...
"I will make sure the world never dares to forget its hero."
No matter how.
The world must not repeat the mistakes of the past.
"Move out! We don't want to keep our friends waiting, do we?!"
Cheong Myeong.
Don't worry.
Mount Hua will never be forgotten. Nor will you.
* * *
"Gaju-nim. A letter has arrived from Mount Hua." Finally, Tang Gunak lifted his gaze from the documents. His face was inscrutable.
"It came earlier this year than I expected."
For a moment, a trace of sorrow flickered across Tang Pae's face, but he quickly brushed it aside and handed over the letter.
Strictly speaking, the Tang Family Head didn't need to read it personally Tang Pae could simply relay its contents. But Gunak always personally read every letter sent by Mount Hua.
Perhaps he was hoping to someday see a letter consisting of just a few words.
As Tang Gunak read the letter, a rare half-smile appeared on his face one Tang Pae seldom saw these days. But it vanished almost immediately.
His father had always been a workaholic, but now it seemed as if he never rested at all.
"So, another year has passed."
Tang Pae's entire body tensed, and his fists clenched inside his sleeves, but he quickly regained control.
It wasn't a question, but Tang Pae answered anyway.
"Yes, Family Head. Shall we prepare everything as usual?"
"Of course. We must assist Mount Hua with the preparations. We depart today."
Tang Pae bowed once more and finally left the study.
Tang Gunak was still looking at the plum blossom seal on the envelope.
In the last decade, you could find them at every step in Sichuan Province. So many trees had been planted that when spring came, it seemed the whole world had taken on a pink hue. Tiny plum blossom petals flew everywhere, and their scent lingered on clothes for a long time.
The Tang Family personally planted over a dozen trees near their estates and within their courtyards.
Tang Gunak had a plum tree planted right outside his window. And almost all the wooden items in his study– as well as in his private room– were made from this type of wood.
A small flowering plum branch was always in his hair.
What a pity, Family Head.
Tang Gunak finally put the letter away in a separate drawer. Despite the long journey, it still carried a faint scent of plum blossoms.
The Patriarch raised his eyes to the window. The plum blossoms would bloom soon. The small buds were already swollen, meaning they would bloom almost as soon as they left.
Forgive me.
Because of my weakness, you will never bloom again.
If only I had arrived on time, everything could have been different.
But I was late.
Tang Gunak brought his hands, which had just touched the envelope, to his nose. The faint, barely discernible scent of plum blossoms still clung to them.
And now, Tang Gunak could only search for him in things that reminded him of him. Cheong Myeong was literally the embodiment of the flowering plum. He was always accompanied by the subtle scent of plum blossoms and blood.
Taking a deep breath and immediately squeezing his eyes shut, Tang Gunak headed for the door. He had much work to do.
Forgive me.
My first and last friend.
I never managed to repay you for all you did.
* * *
A huge man with a bandit-like appearance but dressed in decent clothes knelt before a small pavilion on a seaside somewhere. Inside the pavilion, on a chair, sat a young man. He was fanning himself, even though he was on the seashore where the wind always blew.
To an outsider, it might have looked like a very strange scene. But for those who knew, it was all familiar.
The King of Nokrim, though no one dared call him the Bandit King anymore. For he was the official strategist of the Heavenly Comrades Alliance and a man even the Great Hero himself had listened to.
"Haa... And I just arrived here recently. Well, what can you do..." He snapped his fan shut, causing the huge bandit before him to flinch violently and lower his head even further.
"Then go and tell them to get ready. Quickly, the last thing we need is to be late."
The bandit hastily retreated, upon which Im Sobyeong opened his fan again and fixed his gaze on the leisurely waves. They say the sea breeze is calming, but Im Sobyeong could argue. Every time he looked at the sea, his breath caught. The silhouette of a figure, completely soaked in water and blood, flashed through his mind.
Im Sobyeong's face contorted. If it weren't for the sea air being good for the lungs, he wouldn't have set foot here.
Thanks to the pills, he was fully healed, with only residual effects remaining.
The devil had mentioned it in the instructions that came with the pills. He had written that, knowing he wouldn't survive the final battle.
At that thought, the Nokrim King's eyes darkened slightly, but then a smile appeared on his lips. What a meticulous guy. Was.
Nokrim was now officially no longer part of the Evil Sects. This was thanks to Im Sobyeong's reputation and participation in the war on the side of righteousness. And partly – thanks to Cheong Myeong. Now, the Heavenly Comrades Alliance surpassed the Ten Great Sects in every aspect. Joining the Alliance was now an impossible dream.
After their Commander's death, no one had been able to join the Alliance, no matter how hard they tried.
Im Sobyeong lowered his head and closed his eyes.
Suddenly, the familiar scent of flowers appeared in the air. Im Sobyeong jerked his head up and turned towards the sea. For a second, he thought he saw a young man standing against the evening seascape. His chest tightened, and he held his breath.
But as soon as he blinked, the silhouette vanished.
Im Sobyeong smirked. Truly. None of this would have happened without him.
"Don't worry. We've grown accustomed to your absence."
What an audacious lie.
But it was too necessary right now. Because this way, he could at least slightly calm his wildly beating heart.
Finally, a bandit ran up and announced that all preparations were ready. All this time, Im Sobyeong had been staring intently at the horizon. It seemed like something was approaching.
But...
Cheong Myeong.
You can rest.
We'll take care of everything ourselves you've already done more than enough and then some. You deserve to rest.
* * *
"Look over there! The Namgung Family! The great heroes!"
"What?! What are the heroes of the Heavenly Alliance doing here?..."
"Are you stupid? Or were you born yesterday? It's almost the thirteenth anniversary of the victory over the Magyo! They're hurrying to Mount Hua! To the Mount Hua Sect!"
"What?! Time has flown by so fast... I didn't even notice..."
All eyes were fixed on the group of warriors in white clothes.
Namgung Dowi, the young Gaju-nim of the Namgung Family, who managed to restore his clan's authority after their near-total destruction. It was thanks to him that the family joined the Heavenly Comrades Alliance.
Dowi himself walked at the forefront, leading them. Admiring gazes were fixed on him and the warriors walking beside him. On the heroes.
Dowi averted his gaze from the commoners and looked at his feet. He knew he should have gotten used to them, but... he couldn't. It was as if this glory didn't belong to him.
Almost thirteen years had passed, yet the images of those they had lost stood before his eyes. His father's back, pierced by a trident, yet still unyielding. The backs of the elders who had rushed to certain death. And, of course, the disciples.
And also...
The back of a young warrior in black, who had led them to victory at the cost of his own life.
Dojang always said he was the sword of Mount Hua. But what happens to swords after victory, when they are no longer needed?
He had an answer to that. An unpleasant, dirty one, steeped in the mud and blood of people.
Swords become useless and must be removed from sight or simply destroyed. All for the sake of finally having a time of peace.
Namgung Dowi was almost one hundred percent certain that Cheong Myeong himself knew this.
Back then, still a young man who had just stepped out from under his father's wing, he didn't understand that. Or rather, he understood but didn't think that was what Cheong Myeong meant when he said he was a sword needed only for killing people. Only for victory.
Dowi had one thought. A thought no one wanted to say out loud.
After all, everyone loves heroes who, in the heat of battle, understanding that victory requires self-sacrifice, make that sacrifice for righteousness.
Dowi thinks– no, he knows– that Cheong Myeong knew from the very beginning that he would die in that battle. From the very beginning, meaning even before the Alliance was created. Perhaps before his arrival at Mount Hua.
Cheong Myeong always knew more than an ordinary person should. He thought in a way far older than his years, to the point where everyone forgot his actual age. He had personal scores to settle with the Magyo.
But the young Dowi back then didn't fully grasp this.
It seemed Cheong Myeong had always known his end would be death at the hands of the Heavenly Demon.
Cheong Myeong's will was written long before the final battle. All his affairs were also settled, and his room was completely cleared out. The room contained step-by-step instructions on how to reach his secret stash. He had planned everything so that he would have no unfinished business.
But there was no sense in that.
In the battle with the Heavenly Demon, he could have taken anyone with him for help. If he had had at least a few allies with him, he would have survived. He definitely would have survived.
But he didn't take them.
Perhaps he wanted to die in that battle. As if it meant closing a long-standing issue.
Everyone knew this they just didn't want to admit it, even to themselves.
Cheong Myeong never intended to live after the war ended. He knew a sword was not needed in times of peace.
Namgung Dowi could never understand him. No one could.
But Cheong Myeong Dojang is not a sword, he's a person.
He didn't have to sacrifice himself.
He should be with them now, drinking alcohol and simply enjoying life, not lying cold under a thick layer of earth.
There were many things in Namgung Dowi's life that he regretted. But among the main ones would always be that he –no matter how– didn't stop his father from journeying to the Plum Blossom Island.
And...
That all of them failed to prove to Cheong Myeong Dojang that he could exist outside of war.
Forgive us.
It's all our fault.
.
.
.
Suddenly, something flew into Dowi's line of sight. It tore him from his thoughts, and he involuntarily followed it with his gaze, realizing what he had just seen.
Plum blossoms.
The plum blossoms had finally bloomed.
*
*
*
Somewhere else in Cheonwon, another child was heading to the same place as the entire Heavenly Comrades Alliance.
To Mount Hua.