Chapter 11 The Beggar Sect (1) - Martial Arts Masochist

"Whose... permission...?" "What did you say?" Cheongwol was startled by her own words that had slipped out. Han Seojin acted as though he hadn't heard and leaned in closer to her. Cheongwol fumbled to cover up her words. "Oh, it's nothing... I mean..." Memories and emotions from the previous day vividly resurfaced in Cheongwol's mind. There she was, following orders obediently like a pet. Mouth covered, wrists bound, standing with her chest exposed—a bizarre and humiliating sight. Being splashed with water, her body toyed with. The unbearable shame she felt in those moments. If she were of sound mind, there was no way she'd want to repeat such events. "..." "Miss?" Cheongwol finally understood that Han Seojin's proposal made more sense. He was offering to forget everything, even though she hadn't asked him to. Even her pathetic tears and seeking comfort like a child—all of it. If she were just an ordinary woman, not the Millennium Flower of the Emei Sect, none of this would matter. But she bore the weight of the sect's prestige. Her humiliation was directly tied to the honor of the entire sect. "Did you hear? The Millennium Flower cried in a man's arms, looking pitiful." "They say she was flaunting her body." "If the Millennium Flower is like that, you can guess the rest. Just a bunch of girls pretending to be shy, huh?" It was a situation that could bring shame to her master, seniors, and all third-generation disciples. Cheongwol always knew she wasn’t just protecting her personal honor but representing the whole sect. That's why she had constantly strived to be upright and noble, always suppressing herself. Remembering that, Cheongwol stood up from the bed. "Alright. Then... forget about it." "Yes!!" Upon hearing this, Han Seojin responded with an enthusiastic expression she hadn't seen before. ... As she was about to leave the bed, Cheongwol paused, jolted by his spirited reply. Is there really a reason to be so happy? Why was she feeling uneasy? Han Seojin was the only man who had seen her body so intimately. Why was he so eager to forget it? Why did he wear such a lighthearted expression... Realizing she was occupied with strange thoughts, Cheongwol resumed her steps. Han Seojin stood up quickly, as if to see her off, following beside her as she hurriedly left the shop on numbed legs. Yet, Cheongwol felt an inexplicable heaviness in her footsteps. Her chest felt oddly tight. As they reached the shop's door, Han Seojin held it open and spoke. "Miss. Ah, I will always support you. If we happen to meet again, please accept my greeting." "..." ...Is this the end? Even after exposing her vulnerabilities that no one should see, is it really this clean-cut? After comforting her so much yesterday? "..." Cheongwol's memories of the previous day replayed in her mind. Yes, the shame was there, the humiliation as well... ...Perhaps it was the comfort she received later. Now that she thought about it, those experiences weren't entirely bad... Cheongwol shut her eyes tightly, denying it. No. It couldn't be. With a sound mind, she'd never remember such things fondly. Yesterday, she was simply surprised and swept away by the situation. She glanced at Han Seojin once more. "Miss?" ...Right, this clueless man, why does he matter? -Swoosh! In the end, Cheongwol departed the shop without a word, leaving behind any semblance of politeness. His farewell echoed loudly behind her retreating steps. "Take care!" "..." Even that, she didn’t respond to. Not knowing why, maybe because he annoyed her, she didn’t want to say a final goodbye. **** In the deepest part of the Emei Sect's grounds, there lay a meditation hall where no one was allowed without permission. In that tranquil place, not even a breath could be heard. A subtle incense scent permeated the environment, a bell hanging from the eaves gently swayed in the breeze, and sunlight caressed the murals on the walls. In the center of the meditation hall, Master Muwol sat silently, contemplating the events of the previous night. After Cheongwol stormed out in anger, Master Muwol meekly waited for her return. Yet, no matter how long she waited, Cheongwol did not return. Overcome with anxiety, she finally set out late at night to find the girl using her own means. Having scaled Mount Emei and wandered for some time, Master Muwol eventually encountered a horrifying scene. She found numerous corpses. Some were already mangled by beasts, others in advanced stages of decay due to the warm weather. Her heart pounded violently. While it might seem obvious that this was the work of an Emei disciple given it happened on Mount Emei, ...the Emei Sect valued non-violence above all, and importantly, the bandits did not bear the signs of having fallen to the Emei's sword technique, Sohyang Swordsmanship. Anyone else would discern from some traces that the Emei couldn't have been behind this. However, Master Muwol saw it. This was the Destruction Sword technique. From Emei Sect, it was so brutal and ruthless that it was forbidden to be taught. ...It was a secret technique Master Muwol had transmitted only to Cheongwol and Souwa—perhaps to be used in dire circumstances. It was a sword technique handed down only to those destined to become the next sect leader. Although she hadn’t properly passed on the technique yet... the state of the bandits suggested otherwise. Cheongwol was mastering the sword technique on her own. What had been mere suspicions now became certainty. Cheongwol was suffering from qi deviation, a deeper and more intense one than expected. ...What could have been the cause? Lack of praise? ...But could it be right to commend the cruel and merciless path her swordsmanship was taking? Wouldn't that only deepen the deviation? Was it excessive pressure? Yet, someday even Cheongwol must overcome such pressure. A remarkable being can't help but attract attention, can they? She needed to cultivate the strength to withstand others' gaze. Jealousy from her seniors? While Master Muwol had intervened several times to mediate, it only made things look like favoritism, worsening the situation. It was difficult to ask for the intervention of first-generation disciples... Since the first and second-generation disciples were in mentor-disciple relationships, it posed some awkward challenges. What should have been done? In the end, the answer remained elusive. Master Muwol's heart grew darker with worry. Cheongwol... The precious child, whom she cherished like a granddaughter, was suffering from qi deviation. As Master Muwol continued her meditation, she perceived someone's presence in the distance and rose from her seat. She moved quietly towards where she felt the presence. There stood Souwa, her disciple and Cheongwol's mentor. "Master," Souwa bowed respectfully. "Has Wol returned?" Master Muwol asked. Souwa nodded. "Yes." Perhaps it was the shocking slaughter they witnessed the day before; she wanted to see Cheongwol quickly. To confront her and alleviate this anxiety. "Let's go." **** Cheongwol returned to the sect. Despite waking from a deep sleep, she oddly wanted to rest more. The compulsion to train crept back into her chest. But for some reason, she didn't want to indulge it now. Training that she'd never skipped, not once in years. Even with a fever, sleepiness, or illness, she'd trained every day. Today, without any issues, she lacked the desire to train. What she needed now was to clear her tangled mind. "...Wol." The voice pierced through Cheongwol's thoughts. She flinched excessively. Like a child caught doing something wrong, her turn was startled and awkward. "Master." Startled, she quickly offered respect. Facing her master, she recalled. The day before, how she had fought and run away. That she returned today after spending the night out. Such was Han Seojin's strong presence that she had forgotten all that. An awkward silence filled the air. Her previously light heart began to feel heavy again at the master's arrival. She didn't wish to see this person right now. "...Disciple, I'm tired. Please allow me to rest." She didn't even want to explain her absence. She needed more time to come to terms with her feelings. As Cheongwol tried to pass her master... -Thud. Master Muwol grabbed her wrist. A childish urge overcame her, wanting to shrug off the hand. Yet, seeing the wrinkled hand of her master made it a bit harder. "..." Their eyes met. Cheongwol saw the worry in her master's gaze. What was she so afraid of? The once strong and heroic eyes quivered. Cheongwol couldn't meet those clear eyes. ...Thinking back to what happened the previous day made her feel even more ashamed. "...Wol." Master Muwol handed her something delicately. It was yakgwa, a traditional sweet pastry. Something the master secretly gave her when she spent time alone in solitude. Though gruff, this was the master's way. A clumsy expression of love, unique to that individual. For someone so bold, she lacked finesse in expressing herself. Cheongwol recognized it now as an apology of sorts. "..." She understood. ...If she had felt the same rage as when she screamed in the mountains the day before... ...She wouldn't have accepted the yakgwa. Perhaps, in a more disrespectful manner, she would have thrown the pastry to the ground, yelling that such a thing would never comfort her. Then she'd retreat to her room, suffer for a while longer, maybe even cry. ...But perhaps thanks to those liberating moments with Han Seojin, Such intense emotions no longer remained. Instead, she felt guilty about her deviation. And in her softened heart, her master's apology found easy entry. Her throat clenched with emotion at the apology. Quietly, Cheongwol took the yakgwa, bowed respectfully, and then moved on. In between the tears that threatened to fall, the yakgwa tasted as sweet as always. **** Ten days passed. Cheongwol continued her training out of habit. However, there was one difference. She no longer paid attention to her swordplay. How to wield it more precisely, or where to adjust speed... such technical worries no longer concerned her. Her mind was filled only with the memories of that day. The words. The moment. '...You worked hard, didn't you?' That simple sentence colored her heart deeply. She still remembered how her breath caught when she heard it. '...It must have been tough, right?' Cheongwol wrinkled her nose unconsciously. She recalled how pathetically, childishly she had wept in front of him. 'Huff... Huuu... Sob!' Her face flushed with embarrassment. Even after several days, thinking of that moment still made her body tingle with shame. In fact, as the ordinary days continued, the uniqueness of that day became even more vivid. Making it all the more embarrassing. To have done such a thing, then returned to Emei pretending to be virtuous. Every day felt like hypocrisy. What did Han Seojin think of the scene he witnessed? ...He probably found it pathetic. 'You did well. You endured.' But all he offered was praise. No criticism at all. He acknowledged her. Continually comforted her. Reassuring her as if it was a reward for enduring that shame. No fault-finding, no reprimands. Just acknowledgment. The more tangled her thoughts became, the more her body approached a state of unconsciousness. She no longer even knew if she was wielding a sword. She couldn't recall what form she was practicing. Just as she had endured the shame of that day, she continued her training mechanically. '...You did well, Cheongwol. You worked hard.' In Cheongwol's mind, the image of the leather tannery's owner dominated. He wasn't particularly special. Just slightly larger than most in height and build, with no other distinct features. Not exceptionally handsome, with no overwhelming aura, not particularly strong. Yet Cheongwol couldn't rid her thoughts of him. His voice whispering in the darkness. His breath against her wet ear. His warm embrace. And the way he gently petted the back of her head as if she were a cherished puppy. Who else would dare treat her so kindly? "Uh...!" Cheongwol let out a soft groan without realizing it. Unlike the master's smaller hands, his had been large. The thought of it being a man's touch brought a wave of revulsion back over her... Yet, honestly speaking, she had leaned into that touch. When she was pushed to her limit, she couldn't resist the hand extended to her. In that moment, she forgot that he was a man, forgot that he was the leather tannery owner whom her senior brothers mocked as a loner. She, too, momentarily set aside her identity as a disciple of the Emei Sect. In that space, there was just one person seeking help and another offering it. It was embarrassing. It remained shameful. And she regretted baring herself like that again. "Haa... Haa..." Cheongwol stopped in her tracks. Her mind kept replaying the scene. The atmosphere of that night. The tense sexual energy. The erotic glimpse of her skin visible through the soaked martial robes. That gaze settling upon her. Setting aside her burdens and succumbing to that feeling of submission... Thinking about reliving that day again sent shivers down her spine. It was an exhilarating and provocative sin she felt, one that the proud Millennium Flower of the Emei Sect should never experience. "...Han Seojin." Cheongwol repeated his name. A tingling sensation ran through her body again. A clear remnants of intense displeasure mingled with undeniable echoes of pleasure. After days of pondering, her feelings had become more certain. She hadn't known it then, but she understood now. Perhaps, because of his comfort, she was romanticizing the past. ...Was this what people referred to as lust? She even recalled what her master had once said. "Everyone feels desire if they’re human. Even the head abbots of Shaolin must experience it. You shouldn’t dismiss it as non-existent by simply ignoring its challenges." Finally, Cheongwol looked down at her hands. ...Would there be a day when she felt that way again? ...If it wasn't Han Seojin, who else could it possibly be? In any case, the night she spent with him was in the past, while she must still face the future. The reality hadn't changed at all. Once again, she was the Cheongwol of the Emei Sect, the Millennium Flower, the prodigy of the righteous path. The burdens she had set down were back on her shoulders. Cheongwol shut her eyes tightly. ...The truth was, there was no way left to entangle her life with Han Seojin's again. Cheongwol had no choice but to trust in this now. Having experienced it, she knew. His basement wasn’t a place of torture. She wasn't in a position to dictate terms to him. A couple of days ago, lost in these thoughts, she had observed Han Seojin from afar. While he dully kept his shop, occasionally bickering with some wandering beggar acquaintances, he didn't particularly do anything. He made no effort to seek her out, as though he really had forgotten. It bothered her just a bit— "Wol!" At that moment, Master Muwol approached her. Before any conversation could begin, Master Muwol’s eyes sparkled and she clutched Cheongwol's shoulders. "Did you have some sort of enlightenment?" "...What?" "I observed you from afar, and your swordplay...!" Master Muwol, at a rare loss for words, exclaimed. "It's stabilized again, Wol! You've finally advanced!" "...What?" At first, Cheongwol didn't comprehend what Master Muwol was saying. Without any deliberate thought, her swordsmanship surpassed years of hard work? "Yes, yes...! I knew you would overcome it." "...I overcome it?" Master Muwol fumbled over her words. "No, nothing. Most importantly... your growth makes me happy." Briefly, Cheongwol wondered if Master Muwol was offering forced praise due to recent events. But seeing her master's glistening eyes breathing a sigh of relief, she realized it wasn't so. '...Huh?' And then another surprising thing happened. ...Cheongwol's heart was remarkably calm even in the face of her master's praise. Naturally, it made her happy. It did, but receiving the acknowledgement she had strived for over several years now felt unexpectedly serene. Paradoxically, compared to her master's praise, just one sentence from Han Seojin that she did well— "Ah." Cheongwol blinked, wondering what she had just been thinking. Had she gone mad? The chaos of that day seemed to linger still. Since entering and leaving that strange room, her emotions felt jumbled and upside-down. The indistinct borders between pleasure and displeasure were disturbed by him, making it hard to discern anything anymore. That cloth gag that had stifled her—she found she didn't hate it as much as she thought. And now, her master's praise was not as gratifying as it once was. Something within her had turned. "Yes, Wol. Continue as you are. I’m not sure what you’ve done, but keep doing this." "..." In those words, Cheongwol realized one thing. ...Continue as she was? Was she suggesting that the events of that day had somehow helped her training? ...Then perhaps... Master Muwol spoke. "...It's been so long since I've seen you smile, Wol." "...Ah." Cheongwol reached up to touch her lips. Indeed, her mouth had been curved into a smile without her knowing. Somehow, she had been smiling unconsciously. Her master, seeing her smile, likewise broke into a brighter grin. "I will continue to strive." Cheongwol chose to believe this smile was due to her master's praise. It certainly wasn't because she had found an excuse to see someone again.