Chapter 4 The Thousand-Year Flower of the Emei Sect (4)** - Martial Arts Masochist

Too afraid to face Cheongwol outside, Han Seojin had secluded himself underground for quite some time. He had dozed off, and upon waking, heard the village folks slowly stirring awake, their murmurs echoing. It was a typical dawn. "..." He swallowed dryly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was still intact. Was he really alive? It still didn't feel real–yesterday's events seemed like a dream. Cheongwol, that demoness in his world, was one who, in the original novel, notoriously tore a supporting character apart alongside anyone in her way. Yet here he was, having survived an encounter with her, caught red-handed under the most embarrassing circumstances. "..." For what felt like an eternity, he pondered the surreal nature of his survival, trying to make sense of it. Yet, no matter how much he thought it over, it eluded his understanding. "...Eh, forget it." Dwelling on it wouldn't change anything. He resolved to take a lesson from the easygoing wanderers he’d known, who managed to sleep anywhere and survive anything. If he survived, then that was all there was to it. Did thinking about it ever change anything? Sometimes, glossing over the bad was good enough. When we feel resentment or hate towards someone, it’s easy to wish to destroy them. But when something’s dirty and disgusting, the instinct is to avoid it. Like if you bump into someone on the street and they respond by suddenly revealing a t-back underwear and shaking their hips. You'd want to escape just as quickly. Even the most chivalrous of the martial wanderers would never rest on a filthy floor out of sheer indignation. To Cheongwol, maybe he was something like that repellent street incident. To brazenly ask a famous Emei Sect nun, known for her virtue, if she could pee outside... Perhaps it was the most outrageous—with a stroke of luck, the most fortuitous—thing he’d ever said. In this world, what is considered modest is far more conservative than one might perceive. While modern individuals might have lowered their thresholds due to access to explicit material on smartphones, it was different here. The mere sight of a painted spring day image in ink left men muttering and turning away. Western fashion like bikinis or short pants were unheard of, not even courtesans bared themselves excessively. Old wanderers had tales to tell. Stories of nights spent with courtesans, filled only with praises of their softness and beauty, yet the acts themselves were tame and uninventive. The countless scenes his imagination conjured didn't belong in this world's conventional perception. In that sense, what he considered normal was deemed less than human here. Especially when you consider Emei Sect disciples. And Cheongwol, who was likened to the “Millennium Flower” for blooming only once every thousand years. The impact of what he said to her... Well, it was unimaginable. Perhaps that explained the bizarre sight of Cheongwol fleeing. "..." Still, if she found him repulsive, it was a relief. Wasn’t it the reason he was alive? It was humiliating, but as mentioned, sometimes glossing over the bad was good enough. Let her think of him as something distasteful. So long as he was spared... Like a roach, he crept out from the basement. The exposure from unwittingly revealing his preferences left him feeling small. It was one of those days where sunlit outings felt offensive. "..." Glancing around the room, he spotted clothes he had tossed aside, crumpled in anxiety. They were what he’d borrowed when Cheongwol had dried her soaked uniform. It was clear how hastily she had left. ...How revolted she must have felt. And yet, to see Cheongwol fleeing like that was something even the main characters of this world wouldn’t witness. Should he ever meet one of them, he might offer a word of advice. If you ever encounter Cheongwol, he’d say, just ask her if she can pee outside. That'll send her running. "..." In any case, if they could return to their own paths, he would wish for no more. Despite his tumultuous mindset, he prepared his shop for the day's business. There was work to be done, and no matter how he felt inside, he had to manage it. Just as he was about to slide open the large window at the front of the store, signaling the start of commerce... "...Huh?" A postcard caught his eye, pinned to the wall. Squinting at the short message, he read it. - “I shall ponder your fate slowly.” Yet, in his mind, it translated to: - “Damned bastard. I'm figuring out how to torment you, so wait right there.” "..." Ah. Of course. That obsessive monster wouldn't let go so easily. ...Should he run for it? The thought deepened, echoing as if the postcard itself warned: - “If you flee, I'll tear you to pieces.” It was Cheongwol's voice speaking. **** -WhOOOosh... Cheongwol's sword cleaved through the morning air, the sweat sheathing off her in droplets, moistening the ground. Her carefully dried garments were damp again. She longed to clear her mind. Too much had happened the previous day. The faces of the bandits also sprang back vividly to mind. Trying to bury the guilt and relief she'd felt then, she swung her sword. -Swooosh... Even with closed eyes, her sword flowed smoothly. Suppress it–her explosive urge to wield her sword roughly was forcibly held back. Could this incessant craving to unleash be demonic? ...Even such thoughts were channeled away along the sword’s path. “Can you obey a shameful command?” -Thump... Her foot stumbled slightly. Her brow furrowed. Composure. Composure. She inhaled deeply, continuing her sword practice with her eyes shut... “-Like, for example, being forced to relieve yourself outdoors...” -Pok! But such reconsideration, springing like weeds, made her stab her wooden sword into the ground. “Haa... Haa...” Cheongwol halted completely, catching her breath lightly. “That wretched man...!” Her scrambled thoughts refused to clear. The more she dwelt on it, the hotter her face burned, pounded by a war between anger and shame, with something indefinable attacking her from within. More than when she had killed the bandits, it was Han Seojin's filthy words that tormented her more. “...Ah!” At the sudden perception of a nearby presence, Cheongwol swiftly turned around. There stood someone watching her quietly with wise, wrinkled eyes. The Grandmaster of Emei Sect, the revered Mu Wol Sa Tai. She had saved Cheongwol and taken her in after bandits had left her orphaned. It was none other than the current Grandmaster, Mu Wol Sa Tai. Cheongwol could never forget the impact of that day—the day when, amid her helpless sobbing, the figure of the heroic woman appeared, elegantly subduing all with her sword. Even in her ignorance of swords, amidst terror and despair, Mu Wol Sa Tai's presence had been nothing short of breathtaking. ‘Stop crying. What is your name?’ ‘....’ She hadn’t been given her monastic name back then. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner. Do you have any surviving relatives?’ ‘...Sniffle...’ ‘Hush.’ Despite the firm tone, Mu Wol Sa Tai held Cheongwol for a long while, comforting her. And when Cheongwol finally settled, she asked. ‘...Will you come with me?’ Cheongwol, still in tears, nodded. ‘...Yes.’ That day, their bond was formed. To her, Mu Wol Sa Tai was not just a savior, but stood in as a parent. Though officially, she was a disciple of Mu Wol Sa Tai's student, So Un, the bond with the Grandmaster went beyond mere responsibility for saving her. It was a special connection. When she quietly wept for her parents, the Grandmaster would silently come and pat her shoulder. When she grew tired of the endless rice and vegetables, a covert hand would slip her a confection. Soft spoken words and teachings that enriched her life. These unspoken acts of kindness compelled her to pick up a sword, to accept the name ‘Cheongwol’ and leave her past identity behind in her journey to becoming a true disciple of the Emei Sect. All she wanted was to repay even a small part of the debt she owed to Mu Wol Sa Tai. She wanted the Grandmaster to be proud, to see the act of saving her as a stroke of fortune. However, lately, it felt as though everything was falling apart. “...Grandmaster, I offer you my respects.” She murmured the words as she bowed. Had the Grandmaster seen her woeful training? She didn’t usually watch, so why today... Cheongwol lowered her gaze, fearing what she might see in the Grandmaster's eyes. Recently, she spent her days constantly getting scolded. She couldn’t remember the last time she heard a warm word from her. Ever since Cheongwol started venturing more into the world, it had grown impossible to tell if it was concern or disappointment. Mu Wol Sa Tai had become stricter than before. But waiting patiently, it would surely pass. Normally, the Grandmaster would walk by without a word. “...Wol Ah, come here.” Yet hearing those words made Cheongwol's heart suddenly constrict. Why call her like this out of the blue? Did she somehow know about yesterday? ...No, even though she was the Grandmaster, it was unlikely. After standing frozen for a while, Cheongwol finally took heavy steps towards her. “...You spent the night outside.” The Grandmaster spoke quietly. “Yes.” “...Roll up your sleeve.” Cheongwol frowned slightly at that request, realizing what the Grandmaster was suspicious of. She displayed her forearm to her. There, in stark red, was the clear imprint of a lotus flower known as the 'Suguang Sand'―a mark given to Emei Sect initiates. It only vanished upon sexual intimacy, thus it was named Suguang for 'protecting the womb.' Only after verifying did the Grandmaster nod faintly and release her arm. Overcome with a sudden pang of disappointment, Cheongwol spoke. “...Do you still doubt me?” The Grandmaster, with an unchanging expression, fixed her gaze on Cheongwol’s chest. “...With your sword path so unsteady, how could I not worry? There must be distractions.” Those words, genuine and cutting, made Cheongwol's chest tighten. So she could see the instability in her swordplay, but not the effort? While she wielded her sword at ungodly hours when the world slept... ...Was that not visible? Cheongwol swallowed back her suppressed emotions and whispered. “...I have no interest in men or sexual relations.” The Grandmaster's belief didn’t waver much. “...Everyone has desires, Cheongwol. Even the head monk of Shaolin would face that challenge. To dismiss it as nonexistent in well, anyone, is not wise.” Her heart felt a slight pang. Sure. Maybe somewhere, she did have desires. After all, she was human. But there was something she longed for far more deeply, so much so that she had no time to indulge any such desires. ...Your acknowledgment. One word of praise. That was all she wished for. ...Unless they pretended not to notice. Either way, the hurt ran deep enough to sting. It was something she wanted desperately to argue over. But any such attempts would be just echoes returning unanswered, already known through experiences past. Eventually, Cheongwol sealed her lips once more. Because when it came down to it... “...I will refrain from venturing out at night.” She was at fault once again. So once more, she quashed a part of her heart. And with that part quelled, other intrusive thoughts unexpectedly arose. ...Those bandits from yesterday. She should have slain them more ruthlessly... “...” ...Cheongwol snapped back to attention. What was she thinking just now? The Grandmaster was speaking. “You haven’t forgotten about the upcoming sect evaluation, have you?” Cheongwol blinked and responded. “...No.” “Good. That's all.” The upcoming evaluation raised her fears. Could she rise to meet expectations? The Grandmaster nodded and turned to leave... but then spoke softly. “...Wol Ah, remember, you are the future of Emei Sect in your era. Always keep this in mind.” “...” Only after the Grandmaster left did Cheongwol release a deep breath. “...Phew.” She slowly crouched down in place, burying her face in her knees. Unnoticed, her expression had become deeply contorted. The future of Emei Sect. The Millennium Flower of Emei Sect. She never wished for such things. Right now she resented even the Grandmaster, who might be disappointed should those expectations go unmet. All she wanted was to see the Grandmaster smile. Was such a desire too much to ask? ‘People unknowingly bind themselves with ropes—it may be societal expectations or a sense of duty, or even status. All can sometimes ensnare. This lack of freedom, like a gentle drizzle, with time, becomes a momentous pressure.’ Han Seojin’s voice echoed once again in her mind. Cheongwol gritted her teeth. "...Be quiet." It frustrated her to no end how the situation with the Grandmaster had unfolded, all stemming from her disrupted training—because of him. Yet Han Seojin's voice, unwelcome and incessant, continued to echo in her mind. ‘In realizing under restraint how insignificant and powerless you feel, wouldn't you then finally be free from the world's expectations?’ As if enduring this pressure—or finding some ludicrous freedom by relieving oneself outdoors—were the only options? Did he actually expect anyone to believe such insane nonsense? "..." Her fingers trembled slightly. A nameless emotion, inexplicable and growing, stirred within her chest. Neither shame nor anger nor injustice could capture it. Once more, Cheongwol picked up her sword. -SwOosh! She suppressed the desire to smash and destroy everything in her path.