Chapter 5 The Thousand-Year flower of the Emei Sect (5) - Martial Arts Masochist

Two days later brought the sect evaluation. The disciples of the Emei Sect were lined up in front of the training yard. This was their first evaluation in six months. In the center of the yard was a wide platform set up for the purpose. Constructed simply with a layer of stone over bare earth, yet today, it felt particularly unfamiliar and intimidating to Cheongwol. In front of the platform sat the seats for the examination, including the Elder and other senior members of the sect. Their gazes quietly scanned the assembled disciples. The disciples were arranged in rows by rank around the stage. In the front were the first-ranking disciples, known as the "pillars of the sect." Behind them were the more experienced second-ranking disciples, and at the end stood the still naive third-ranking disciples. "Cheongwol." At that moment, someone called her name in a whisper. There was only one person among the second-ranking disciples who could address her by name—it was Hyeyul, the head disciple of the second-rank. She said, "As I mentioned, take it easy this time, alright?" Her tone was as leisurely and playful as ever, but today, it grated on Cheongwol's ears more than usual. "If you shine too brightly, it makes us look bad," Hyeyul continued. Cheongwol responded with a short sigh, "I've told you before, the Elder expects a certain standard from me. It's not that easy." "Aw, come on... just ease up a bit, why don't you?" “...Ha.” On any other day, she might have ignored such remarks, but today, her nerves were on edge. Anxiety and tension about the upcoming test had coiled tightly within her chest. The recent string of chaotic events had likely added to the pressure. Hyeyul's carefree demeanor, which might have been forgivable on another occasion, felt particularly irksome today. In the end, Cheongwol couldn't hold back and spoke out bluntly. "If you have the leisure to ask for favors like that, perhaps you should put more effort into your training instead." Hyeyul's smile slowly stiffened. "What?" "Do you think I wake up every morning before dawn to train because I’m this good for nothing? If you're embarrassed by your skills, you should work to improve them instead of trying to pull me down." Cheongwol's words carried the weight of her long-standing discontent. She too wanted to sleep in, to rest without a care. But driven by a singular determination to enhance her skills and earn the Elder's recognition, she pushed herself relentlessly. Hyeyul said, "Cheongwol, you're unusually sensitive today." "And you, Sister, are always too carefree. Are you not afraid of the Elder's assessment?" Once she started, Cheongwol found she couldn't stop. From the start, Cheongwol had never been particularly close with her fellow disciples due to her extraordinary skills. Lack of time to socialize, spent instead on training, widened the gap between her and them, like a protruding stone receiving the harshest blows. So, having decided to confront the issue, she committed herself to seeing it through to the end. "Sister, the responsibilities that should fall on you are becoming burdens I have to carry... Frankly, it's burdensome these days. Isn't it embarrassing that there's such a disparity in our skills? When will you start acting like the head disciple you are?" A moment of silence ensued. Her words were a blatant provocation beyond the acceptable boundary. However, considering the volatility of Cheongwol's emotions lately, even these words were carefully restrained by her standards. - Thud. Cutting through the tension was a quiet interjection. “Hyeyul, let it go.” It was Baekhui, one of the second-ranking disciples, speaking. She glanced sidelong at Cheongwol and said quietly, “...Cheongwol’s stern behavior isn’t new. Let’s leave it at that.” Cheongwol felt a surge of indignation. Pretending to restrain while insinuating she was the problem—it nettled her deeply. Was it really her fault? They were the ones not putting in effort. Why did they make her out to be the odd one? She mumbled, glaring at Baekhui, "…Baekhui. You be careful this time too. Make sure you don't slip up during the sect evaluation." Baekhui's brows knit slightly. "...I've been putting in effort. Don't worry about me." Cheongwol stifled a dry laugh at that. Doing nothing more than what everyone else considered effort? Well then, for your standards, maybe that was effort. But the measure of effort is subjective, after all. **** Predictably, it was terrible. Cheongwol observed Hyeyul from atop the platform as she struggled to perform the choreography. What she was showcasing was the 'Sobyung Sword Technique', the foundational and quintessential swordsmanship of the Emei Sect. Hyeyul executed each of the seven forms one by one, yet to Cheongwol’s eyes, they were all lacking. Sometimes they were too fast, other times too slow. Watching Hyeyul gasp for breath, barely keeping the forms together was beyond pitiful—it was disgraceful. Whoever thought they could receive good evaluations without putting in any effort—where did such an idea even come from? To Cheongwol, who had already reached the state of a first-class warrior, Hyeyul's movements appeared clumsy and inept. As those lackluster forms were completed one by one, the seventh and final form concluded. Bowing formally to the Elder, Hyeyul awaited her evaluation. Cheongwol also listened intently. After a brief silence, Elder Muwoosaetah spoke, “…You’ve worked hard. There’s been progress since last time.” It was unexpected. Accompanied by a brief smile, Elder Muwoosaetah's words were a relief. He seemed lenient today, even more so than usual—a stark difference in evaluations from those of the first-ranking disciples and even Hyeyul. Without rebuke, Hyeyul's stern demeanor brightened visibly. “Thank you.” “Your form has fewer gaps, and the movements have improved. Most of the issues I pointed out in the last evaluation have been addressed.” Beaming, Hyeyul responded, “It’s all thanks to Master’s guidance.” Hearing this, Hyeyul’s master also smiled proudly from among the first-ranking disciples. With compliments, exchanges of gratitude, and a few short pieces of advice, Hyeyul's evaluation concluded smoothly. "Whew..." Cheongwol exhaled quietly. Now it was her turn. As she composed herself, the voice of Elder Muwoosaetah resonated across the yard. “Next, Cheongwol.” A silent stillness swept over the yard. Everyone present knew how exceptional Cheongwol was. None among the first-ranking disciples had achieved the level of a first-class warrior at Cheongwol’s age. In fact, there was talk that even some of the first-ranking disciples were not as skilled as Cheongwol. She had not yet stepped onto the main stage of the Jianghu realm, yet the nickname ‘Millennium Flower of the Emei Sect’ was already being whispered among various sects. -Step. As Cheongwol ascended the platform, all eyes naturally converged upon her. Yet even for someone as strong as her, there was something Cheongwol kept hidden: she was extremely frightened at that moment. Reflecting on prior evaluations, today undoubtedly had a gentler atmosphere. The Elder's tone and expressions were mild. But as she stood on the stage, none of that mattered. The tension remained unchanged. Perhaps the source of her fear was the sheer amount of effort she had expended thus far—pushing through sleepiness, wrestling with doubts, constantly meditating. Her hands had become calloused and torn, yet she would pick up her sword and train again. If she had done nothing at all, perhaps she wouldn't have been as scared. Those sleepless nights and dawns when she rose again to train—she feared that all those hours would come to nothing. Cheongwol spoke, "...Cheongwol of the Emei Sect, seeks your guidance." Elder Muwoosaetah and the senior members nodded in acknowledgment. At that moment, Cheongwol slowly raised her wooden sword and closed her eyes. Calmly, she roused her internal energy, which quivered with fear in her core. Everything would be fine. The Elder was more lenient than usual today. With a deep breath, her sword began to dance. Flowing like water, swift as the wind, her sword painted soft lines in the air. "Wooow..." "…Amazing." Murmurs of admiration escaped from the third-ranking disciples. Even their eyes saw that her swordplay was something different. Cheongwol could feel the innumerable gazes focused on her. The more admiration and silent awe she garnered, the more the anxiety inside her started to settle. Believing in herself seemed justified now. If she showcased the skills honed through endless training, it would suffice. Sometimes she moved swiftly, sometimes with power. Mimicking the lethal instincts from the time when she had fought off bandits... “-Stop.” But then, a sharp voice halted Cheongwol's technique. The smooth flow of her performance cut like a waterfall abruptly severed. The assessment stopped at the fourth form. “...” Cheongwol found herself frozen in an awkward stance, looking at the Elder in surprise. Even the senior members seemed taken aback by Muwoosaetah's abrupt interruption. However, Muwoosaetah maintained a steady gaze on Cheongwol. She spoke, “...Your swordsmanship.” With that singular word, Cheongwol anticipated what was to come. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to close her ears to the world, but that was impossible; the third-ranking disciples were watching her every move. Muwoosaetah continued, “...Your swordplay is too chaotic, Wol-Ah.” **** When she came to her senses, it was the deep of night. Sitting alone beside the now-empty evaluation platform, Cheongwol remained. Sometimes, her fellow disciples observed her odd behavior from afar, but none approached to offer comfort. Cheongwol was a difficult sister, and they had never truly been close. The notion of siblinghood felt hollow and distant. Perhaps that was why the Elder's criticism hit her so hard. Having lost her parents and not being close with her fellow disciples, the only family she could truly call her own was the Elder. “...” She sensed someone approaching. Cheongwol slowly opened her eyes. She knew she should rise to her feet out of respect, but her body wouldn’t respond. Her shoulders slumped, her head hung low. Quietly, but with resolute determination, she stayed seated. “…It’s time you went inside,” Muwoosaetah whispered. Cheongwol didn’t respond. All the effort she had put in—what had it amounted to? Even during the evaluation six months ago, she was met solely with reprimands. So she had striven harder. Hoping she might be noticed, she had been the first to grab her sword near the Elder’s quarters and the last to lay it down, training harder and longer than anyone else. She'd tried to be diligent, just as the Elder had taught. She'd tried to maintain consistency. It wasn’t that she was expecting extravagant praise. A single nod of acknowledgment would have elated her for days. Yet even this time, the evaluation was disheartening. Nearly a year without a single word of affirmation. “...At the very least.” Her voice was low, but the weight of her emotions lay heavy underneath. “...At the very least, if you saw my efforts, you shouldn’t have said those things in front of everyone.” Muwoosaetah was firm. “…How can I praise when your skills have regressed?” "Regressed?" That word sparked something within her. Then what about all the time I spent? The loneliness I endured? The relentless effort I made just to gain recognition—what does that make me? Cheongwol pressed a trembling hand to the ground, rising to her feet. She looked straight at Muwoosaetah with an intense gaze. “Did you just say I regressed?” “Yes, you’ve regressed.” “Do I have to become as awful as Sister Hyeyul to hear you say otherwise?” “Do not speak ill of your sister.” “So I shouldn’t speak ill of her, yet you can admonish me this much?” Muwoosaetah closed her eyes tightly, letting out a brief sigh. “...Wol-Ah. I aim to view all disciples without bias. Some have innate talent, others may progress more slowly. Therefore, I only look at how much the individual has grown, not by comparison to others, but whether they've improved over their former selves.” The more they spoke, the more Cheongwol felt her heart grow heavier. “...Innate talent?” She couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh. “Is it truly Elder’s belief that I reached this stage solely due to some innate talent?” This statement negated all the effort she had poured into her training. “Do you think that talent alone accounts for everything? Do you fail to see the time and effort I’ve invested?” “Wol-Ah, I—” “—No one works as hard as I do!” Cheongwol’s voice rang out. Her cry burst forth, laden with swallowed emotions. “My skills are not the product of talent but of the time, pain, and effort I've endured! Nobody else puts in the same work, yet I’m the only one reprimanded! Is it so hard to say, ‘You’ve worked hard’? Just once?” Once they started, her words couldn’t be stopped. It was just like when she had argued with Hyeyul. Certainly, lately, the weight on her heart had grown. “Does that mean that as long as I get your praise, it doesn’t matter what happens to my skills?” Muwoosaetah stood his ground. "Wol-Ah, are you planning to stake your entire life on my praise, on a word from me?" Muwoosaetah asked. Cheongwol shook her head. Even now, Muwoosaetah didn't seem to understand. "No, that's not it. But... who has been placing this pressure on me?" she asked. "..." "Could I have acted differently? Talking about being the future of Emei Sect, about being a talent that comes once in a millennium...!! Wasn't it the Elder who placed all those burdens on me? To impose such weight and yet not recognize the effort I put in to endure it! Does it make sense to scold me for not meeting expectations?" For a moment, Muwoosaetah's eyes wavered. "The burden was given to me by you, Elder. I tried to endure to the end despite being crushed by that weight. Why do you ignore the efforts of someone who carried that burden?" Cheongwol softly grasped her own throat. "I... can't breathe," she confessed, her voice carrying her genuine plea. "I can't breathe, Elder!" Muwoosaetah stood frozen for a long while. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, indicating a conflict within as she prepared to speak. But Cheongwol didn't want to hear whatever she intended to say. Whatever words came out, she was sure they couldn't soothe her current pain. She quickly turned away, unwilling to remain any longer. "Wol-Ah!" Ignoring the call from behind, she ran. Instantly, she pushed her way out of the Emei Sect and into the dark, dense forest of Mount Emei. She had long since forgotten the promise to avoid going out at night. Even as her breath hitched in her throat, she kept running. The farther the memory of the Elder's face receded in her mind, the more anger filled its place instead of sorrow. Why. Why only me. The overwhelming, shapeless anger only continued to grow. Shunned by fellow disciples, and unacknowledged by the Elder, if even so, why uphold the rules she'd stubbornly adhered to? Why rise at dawn for training, Why swallow tasteless food, Why smile before a rude secular person, Why stand firm before the fearsome demonic sect, And, even if confronted in battle, Why adhere to the end to non-lethal principles? "Haa... haa..." Running further and further, she eventually reached the deep heart of the mountain. Cheongwol, gasping for air, couldn't hold back any longer and erupted in a scream. "Ahhhhh!!!" Her cry of anguish reverberated, seemingly shaking the entire mountain. Still, the weight of her frustration lingered within her heart. ...Rather. ...Rather, if only from the beginning, she hadn't followed the Elder... "...Ugh!" As a dangerous thought flitted through her mind, Cheongwol choked back a retch and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her body trembled violently. She shook her head fervently. No. She could clearly see the current state of things. This was undoubtedly the creeping evil spirit of a deviant path. The twisted resentment seizing her now was the energy of internal demons. This couldn't happen. She couldn’t succumb to such thoughts. She must not lose her original resolve. She needed to recall the beneficence of the Elder. However, no matter how many times she repeated this, her heart sank into the mire of despair. How could she possibly overcome these internal demons... Please, somehow... "...Ah." In that desperate moment, a certain someone came to mind. ‘This is a space for resolving internal demons!’ The strange, outlandish declaration echoed in her ears. Standing at that crucial crossroads, Cheongwol remained motionless for a long time, lingering in the shrouded darkness. **** "Wow, this is delicious," I murmured to myself while shoveling spoonfuls of mixed rice and vegetables into my mouth. It had already been three days since that incident with Cheongwol. Nothing had happened. With each passing day, the weight pressing down on me began to gradually lift. Indeed. Avoidance born of distaste—surely no one would want to get involved with someone like me. Though Cheongwol was deemed a dangerous killer, she was far from vulgar. Noble and elegant... I continued spooning food into my mouth as I mumbled. "This is really tasty." ...She was like a swan. I started to let go of my fear completely. Cheongwol must have looked back and realized that not a single word I said was incorrect. How could there be a torture chamber here, with a single scream alerting everyone? So she must have thought it better to forget about it altogether. That's what we should do, both of us. I'll forget about seeing your slaughterhouse, so you forget about seeing my basement. I should resume the crafting of the janggu drums, the project I'd put on hold. What should I make next? A tail ornament? -BANG!! Suddenly, the door burst open. Startled by the noise, I knocked over my bowl of rice. -Clatter! "..." I froze like a deer caught in headlights, staring at the one intruding at this midnight hour. "...Oh." ...Why are you here? There she was, approaching with disheveled hair and ragged breaths. ...Her eyes. Damn, her eyes were not in their right state. "Punch it." She muttered something. "...What?" Step by step, she continued advancing toward me. I got up from my chair and began to back away. However, in this cramped space, there was no room to escape to. Cheongwol stopped in front of me, pinning me against the wall. "...Fix it." Her beautiful face was suddenly before mine. But I couldn't make eye contact. My eyes darted nervously as I asked again. "...What do you mean..." "I'll follow you accordingly, so...!" Cheongwol raised her voice. Grinding her teeth, she looked up at me. Finally, truly seeing her for the first time, I was shocked. ...Could this really be a person's expression of pain? Cheongwol pleaded desperately. "Just... somehow deal with these internal demons!"