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And the snow falls, washing away his tears.
In the middle of the path, the snowstorm that crosses the lands wrapped a still figure in the tempest.
Baek Cheon had already lost feeling in his fingers, he could no longer breathe or think clearly. With a heavy heart, he looked at the indistinguishable road towards Yunnan and at the distant misty white-covered mountains. At times, he could easily mistake the blizzard for the voices of his home: so lively and loud.
Everything was so familiar.
Suddenly his vision becomes distorted and he feels like he is falling forward. Stabbing his frozen sword even deeper into the snow, Baek Cheon still tries to stand firm in the face of the fierce wind, while he waits for his sajae: his friend.
His hands tremble on the hilt of his sword. Little by little the sickly purple rises to the tips of the fingers and of the nose. Baek Cheon slows his breathing, as the cold eats away at his body; he has to endure, at least until he can see him.
Baek Cheon opens his eyes when he can hear steady heavy footsteps coming his way.
Visualizing someone staggering, Baek Cheon breathes slowly and, for that brief moment, feels the warmth of summer and the scent of plum trees. Those that now only belong to his memories.
“I…”, Baek Cheon murmurs softly.
Baek Cheon wishes to reach his sajae before his youth is dust; before his soul breaks; before death claims that.
Baek Cheon must save him.
Must try again.
So he took his sword and kept alert despite the coldness of his hands. He prepared to see the figure so familiar to him and to the sect of Mount Hua. His eyes see beyond the person in front of him; they contemplate the bedrooms, the mountains, the plum trees.
Baek Cheon blinks inadvertently and is once again present in the snow-covered wasteland, facing the pain again in the form of a man.
For a moment he wonders if he could have done more, if he should have gone to certain places himself and trained more until his body dropped from exhaustion. He wonders if just some action from his past could have changed his present.
Then the youthful silhouette emerges from the blizzard: his wavy hair fell like a stream down his body that was wrapped in dirty and undone clothes. His pinkish gaze lies like a deep, calm lake.
Baek Cheon knew it was the opposite: there was a mess brewing inside.
He breathed raggedly and took a step, then two and-
"Get out”.
Several times he had received orders from his bastard sajae, although always distinguishing the affectionate and exasperated tone behind it. Remember that same voice present during his travels, both in storms and droughts and in cool summers. Inevitably that voice became part of his most treasured memories marked by sweetness and joy.
This time he heard weariness and resignation.
“Stop, Cheong Myeong, please".
How many times had he said the same thing during his training? He no longer remembers; he already misses him.
“No again…”
Baek Cheon had seen time and time again Yoon Jong walking the paths of the sect, Yoo Iseol eating with Tang Soso, Jo Gul training on the side of the pavilion, and Hye Yeon wandering around the sect. Soon, everyone is resting under the shade of the plum trees, enjoying the breeze and ignoring Cheong Myeong's rants.
Likewise, the rivers of their home will turn red, the plum trees will wither and the sweetness of the aroma will turn into a disgusting smell of copper.
There were no lives to save, no bodies to recover.
Not in his sect, not in Sichuan, not in Yunnan, not beyond.
Cheong Myeong smiled crookedly and pointed out the paleness of his face, said, “You can't take it anymore”
Trembling, Baek Cheon feels like he will faint in the next few minutes, while still remembering the fire crackling on Mount Hua. He's already tired, but he can't leave it like this: not to Cheong Myeong.
"You neither”.
The almost imperceptible smile remained on the cracked lips of the Mount Hua divine dragon. Instead, his sasuk gripped his sword tightly and said, "I won't let you go, not anymore. You will die and-”
"And?".
And? Start over? It's already happened three times. Baek Cheon has already seen the same thing three times: wilting plum blossoms.
And the snow falls on his tense shoulders.
"Please stop”.
Cheong Myeong smiled brokenly for the fourth time and ignored him.
"Cheong Myeong…”
Baek Cheon removes his sword from its sheath and points it at his friend; his brother and his mentor. His determination blooms once again and with it, plum trees emerged from his leaf, shining in the midst of the storm.
The great sasuk and next leader of the Mount Hua sect, Baek Cheon, attacks Cheong Myeong as blood drips from his knuckles and red stains his once white clothes; now, grey. He feels the Qi of his body swirling around him as the cold disappears.
Baek Cheon is completely lucid and gives Cheong Myeong a sour look.
He heads towards Cheong Myeong surrounded by plum trees, hoping that at the end of his attack he can shelter his sajae from the fierce storm. However, his sajae, so calm and with the scabbard still attached to his weapon, meets the attack with a simple movement, causing the snow to rise and the blizzard to intensify.
Baek Cheon's sword falls away.
For the fifth time, his world spun and he fell cleanly to the floor.
And the snow falls on his haggard face.
"...”
The eighth time he no longer speaks, just looks at the ghostly figure that steadily moves away. Baek Cheon, with a heavy heart, gets up and follows the path towards the central plains. Upon arrival, he observes how the symbols of the great sects hung from the houses and the crowd whispered among themselves.
At the end of the street, on top of a wooden platform, was Cheong Myeong, facing the elders of other sects. And then, again, the skies turn dark. The atmosphere fades and the aroma of blood rises, a product of the hundreds of deaths.
And the snow falls on his bloody back.
For the ninth time he raised his sword and beheaded hundreds of members. He for the tenth time he faced a bishop. For the eleventh time he blindly follows the presence of a fallen dragon.
How many times will you feel how your soul is torn as you try to preserve the last traces of your sajaes. How many times have there been times when Baek Cheon tries to catch up with Cheong Myeong towards the city after being defeated. How many times will he feel how blood gushes out and death reaches him.
And the snow falls on his pale hands.
Apparently, enough for someone, wrapped in green, to appear among the war dead. The silhouette guides him carefully to where Cheong Myeong lies about to die.
Baek Cheon can see a weak, desolate smile on that person's diffuse face.
The next time, during the last days of the Mount Hua sect, a young man crosses the fields and brings, along with the wind, forgotten verses of the plum sword techniques written on worn leaves. Then, the sect leader wakes up elated that he had spoken with a predecessor of the Mount Hua Sect.
And when he wakes up again in the same morning, lulled by the sunlight, his sajaes do not go away: Yoon Jong does not vanish among the groves, nor does Yoo Iseol among the plum petals or Tang Soso in the depths of the abyss, either. Jo Gul on steep peaks.
Baek Cheon lies silently and thanks the heavens. For the first time, Cheong Myeong loses to his sword and finally, both are able to take refuge from the snow under a collapsed roof and wrap up in warmth.
He still feels that warmth when he dies in the rain, even when again he wakes up in his room, lulled by sunlight.
In the middle of the pitched battle, he sees a young man with a cheerful smile fighting next to him, covered in warm winter clothing.
Under the skies, Baek Cheon feels the sweetness of loquats and mooncakes. He treasures every smile and look of his younger sect brothers. He finds comfort in the scent of plum trees. He looks longingly at the plum trees growing again after winter. He smiles in relief as he sees his most troublesome sajae at the table, vacuuming up everything in front of him.
And the snow falls into his tense arms.
Then, it's the thirtieth time and Baek Cheon, feeling its warmth, rests under the plum trees. Remembering, he looks from the top of Mount Hua to his cloud-sheltered home. Laughing, he brandishes his sword in time with his being. Then, he undoes the knots of his soul, battered and about to break, between the arms of his sajaes.
"We're alive", he murmurs through tears.
The storm has passed and the snow no longer falls on his body.
“Don't leave me”, he thinks between sobs.
And the confused promise of his sajaes brings him comfort.
Baek Cheon wakes up lulled by sunlight.