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chapter 71
The Sword Spirit, together with Seo Gun-ha, visited Baekmadong and spent about an hour walking slowly around, observing their surroundings.
Seo Gun-ha walked beside him, equally absorbed in taking in the sights.
A stalactite begins with a single drop of water hanging from the ceiling of a limestone cave. Each drop leaves behind a faint ring of sediment when it falls, and over time, those rings accumulate and form the long stone pillars that hang from the ceiling and rise from the floor.
Knowing how long it takes for the ceiling and floor to eventually meet, Seo Gun-ha couldn’t help but be awed.
“It must’ve taken ages for these two to finally join. We should learn patience like these stone pillars.”
The Sword Spirit glanced at her.
“Why?”
“Because you’re right, sister. But blind patience isn’t always good. Sometimes it’s better to give up quickly when something’s clearly not working.”
“There’s a saying — great talents mature late.”
He said that because he couldn’t agree with giving up easily.
“I think it depends on the person’s ability. Talented people grow quickly, and those without talent grow slowly. So that saying — great talents mature late — is just an excuse people without talent use to defend themselves.”
Seo Gun-ha blinked. She wanted to argue, but couldn’t think of a proper rebuttal.
“But still…”
“Wait.”
When Seo Gun-ha tried to speak again, the Sword Spirit interrupted her.
“Waaah…”
A faint baby’s cry could be heard in the distance.
“What is it?”
The Sword Spirit had clearly heard it, but Seo Gun-ha seemed unable to.
“It’s the same baby cry I heard back at the inn.”
“Where?”
At his words, Seo Gun-ha circulated her internal energy and expanded her perception outward.
“I can’t hear anything.”
Even after stretching her senses to the limit, she couldn’t detect the sound.
“This way.”
She followed where the Sword Spirit led, extending her energy outward as they walked to sense any subtle changes around them.
After walking for about half an hour, Seo Gun-ha finally heard the faint baby’s cry.
She looked at the Sword Spirit — realizing that the difference in their martial prowess was about half an hour’s worth of perception. He could move freely while she, even seeing him do so, could only stand still.
Her earlier words echoed back in her mind:
“It depends on ability… the talented grow fast, the untalented grow slow. The saying ‘great talents mature late’ is just an excuse for the talentless.”
She realized just how much of a genius the Sword Spirit truly was — a level of genius ordinary people couldn’t even imagine.
How many people, even in the history of the martial world, had reached such heights at his young age?
Not even Bodhidharma, who attained enlightenment, nor the Celestial Demon Emperor, famed as the greatest under heaven, nor the mysterious hermit Cheon Nam-yeon, whose martial depth was said to be immeasurable, had likely reached this level in their youth.
Though martial mastery often came through sudden enlightenment, she doubted anyone his age had achieved so much.
Her master’s old words came to mind:
“No matter how fast you think you are, there are always those hidden in the world, training in secret. Never grow arrogant — always train humbly.”
She sighed inwardly.
“I really was a frog in a well.”
Seo Gun-ha looked at the Sword Spirit and chastised her own ignorance.
“Sister.”
His voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“Yes?”
She looked at him with a slightly awkward smile.
“Please be careful.”
“Now that I think about it, you’ve been acting strange. Asking about Baekmadong, insisting we come here… Does it have something to do with that crying sound?”
The Sword Spirit nodded.
“Have you ever heard of the Bingbaek Sosu Divine Art (Ice-White Elemental Hand Divine Skill)?”
Seo Gun-ha’s eyes widened — she had indeed heard of it from her master, the Sword Empress Cheong Yak-ryeo.
“You mean the Invincible Divine Art said to be able to block a sword with bare hands?”
According to her master, when mastered, the Bingbaek Sosu Divine Art could even shatter sword energy itself.
“Yes. They say that when one trains in that art, it sounds like a baby crying. So if it’s not an actual baby, I thought maybe someone nearby is practicing it.”
Seo Gun-ha nodded slowly.
“But that art isn’t demonic, is it?”
Though more domineering than most demonic arts, it was still called a divine art because it didn’t corrupt the practitioner’s nature.
“I have some business with the one who’s mastered that technique.”
He spoke lightly, then started walking toward where the sound came from. Seo Gun-ha followed silently, curious to see what was going to happen.
Baekmadong was a maze of connected caves — countless tunnels intertwined beyond the paths made for tourists. Yet the Sword Spirit walked with ease, as if he’d traversed them hundreds of times.
After about a quarter of an hour, the crying abruptly stopped.
“This way.”
He quickened his pace — whoever it was must’ve sensed them and gone into hiding.
The Sword Spirit darted into a cave. Seo Gun-ha followed but soon lost sight of him amidst the branching tunnels.
“Where did he go?”
As she hesitated, wondering which tunnel to take, his voice echoed directly in her mind:
Stay there. It’ll be over soon.
She sighed softly.
“Guess I should use this time to train.”
“Stop!”
The Sword Spirit’s sharp command froze the figure ahead.
They had tried to flee upon noticing him, but realizing they couldn’t outrun him, stopped.
The person’s back was turned — long hair, a small and slender frame, likely a young girl.
“Why are you running?”
No response.
When he stepped closer, she suddenly spun and thrust out her hand. Her pale hand shot straight for his heart.
Thwack!
The Sword Spirit deflected her strike and reached to grab her wrist—
Clash!
She dodged, countering with a strike to his throat.
A sharp metallic clang rang out as their palms met.
“So she’s mastered the Bingbaek Sosu Divine Art to near perfection…”
Though not yet at full mastery, she had clearly passed the advanced stage.
“Tch!”
Frustrated that her attack was blocked, she unleashed even fiercer strikes.
Thud, thud, thud!
As her inner energy flared, the Sword Spirit matched her intensity. The collision of their energies shook the cave.
“Stop. The cave might collapse. I didn’t come here to fight you.”
At his calm words, the girl narrowed her eyes. Her long hair fluttered as her qi dispersed, revealing a girl of about fourteen or fifteen.
“My name is Sword Spirit. What’s yours?”
Feeling no hostility from him, the girl looked up.
“Ye Hwirang.”
When Ye Hwirang withdrew her energy, so did he, and the tense air instantly grew still.
“Ye Hwirang? That’s a pretty name. Are you here all alone?”
She shook her head.
“Then with who?”
“My mother.”
“Where is she?”
“Inside.”
She answered each question obediently — perhaps her secluded training had left her innocent and unguarded.
“Can you take me to her? I’m the grandson of the hermit Cheon Nam-yeon. He left a message for Lady Arang of the Elemental Hands.”
The Sword Spirit already knew that the Sosu Heavenly Maiden Arang had died, but figured that her descendants must still live — and it was enough to pass on the message.
Ye Hwirang blinked.
“You’re Grandpa Cheon Nam-yeon’s grandson?”
“That’s right. And you — are you Lady Arang’s granddaughter?”
“Mm. Mother said that one day, one of Grandpa Nam-yeon’s disciples would come to find me.”
The Sword Spirit was briefly startled but kept his composure.
“Where’s your mother?”
“This way. Follow me.”
She led the way, her steps sure as she weaved through the maze of tunnels.
“Here.”
She entered a small cave. At its end, a woman sat motionless in meditation — lifeless.
“Mother, Sword Spirit-oppa is here. He’s Grandpa Nam-yeon’s grandson. I’ll give him what you told me to.”
Ye Hwirang seemed to know her mother was dead. She retrieved a sealed letter from the corner of the cave and handed it to him.
“Mother said to give this to you if you ever came.”
The Sword Spirit opened the letter.
To the one reading this — I hope you have some connection to my father.
He looked at Ye Hwirang.
If her mother called Cheon Nam-yeon father, that meant Ye Hwirang was indeed his granddaughter.
The letter detailed the story of her parents — Cheon Nam-yeon and Lady Arang — how Ye Hwirang’s mother was born, and why she now trained here.
After mastering the Bingbaek Sosu Divine Art, Lady Arang once fought Cheon Nam-yeon. But during that battle, her excessive use of inner energy caused the cold qi to invade her bones. To save her life, Nam-yeon was forced to share his life essence with her — and as a result, Ye Hwirang’s mother was born.
The letter also described the hardships they faced. The Sword Spirit couldn’t help feeling pity — Ye Hwirang’s life mirrored his own in many ways.
Please take care of my daughter, Hwirang. She knows nothing of the world. I entrust her to your guidance.
After finishing the letter, the Sword Spirit looked at the girl.
“Mother said that when you came — or when I came of age — I could finally leave the cave.”
“How old are you, Hwirang?”
“Fifteen.”
The Sword Spirit smiled, and she smiled back brightly.
“Can you read?”
“Yes, but I still don’t understand the hard words.”
“That’s fine. Your mother asked me to take care of you. How about you come with me and travel the world?”
“Mother told me to go with you when you came.”
Though she was fifteen, her emotional maturity lagged behind. The Sword Spirit had also grown up isolated, but he’d had at least three people who’d told him about the world — she had no one.
“All right then. Let’s leave this place and see the world together.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t doubt him at all. It wasn’t naïveté — it was trust born of knowing who he was: the grandson of her grandmother’s companion, Cheon Nam-yeon.
“Wait a moment!”
Ye Hwirang asked him to hold on and raised her energy.
Whoooom!
The air inside the cave shifted. The Sword Spirit quietly watched.
Boom!
Her hands, now pale white with frost, dug into the cave floor. After a short while, she had carved out a space large enough for one person to lie down.
“Mother, now you can rest here comfortably.”
She moved her mother’s body carefully and covered it with stones she piled with care. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Don’t get lonely without me, okay, Mother?”
“She knows how to handle grief,” the Sword Spirit thought.
For one so young, she had learned restraint and discipline — perhaps the only way she’d survived alone here.
When she finished the grave and bowed, tears finally fell from her eyes.
“Ugh, so annoying!”
She muttered in frustration, as if scolding herself for crying. Then she fetched a leather pouch — it contained Bigeokdan, the fasting pills that sustained her.
“Sword Spirit-oppa, let’s go.”
Though she spoke firmly, tears still lingered in her eyes. The Sword Spirit was reminded of the day he parted with his three mentors.
Without realizing it, he stepped forward and gently embraced her.
Ye Hwirang stiffened for a moment — then began to sob in his arms.
“It’s okay. Crying it all out helps. I cried the same way when I left the Black Abyss Island.”
He patted her back softly.
Ye Hwirang was the granddaughter of Cheon Nam-yeon, and as the old master’s disciple, it was his duty to look after her. Cheon Nam-yeon himself had once said that one should never turn away from someone in need — especially as he still carried guilt toward Lady Arang.
Eventually, Ye Hwirang’s sobs subsided.
“Promise you won’t tease me for crying.”
“I promise, Hwirang.”
“Why?”
“Once we leave this cave, we’ll meet many people. Don’t be afraid of them. And no matter what happens, don’t use your martial arts carelessly, even if someone upsets you. Okay?”
“Okay. Mother told me that too.”
“Good. Then let’s go — someone’s waiting for us outside. You’ll like them.”
“Mm.”
Together, the Sword Spirit and Ye Hwirang stepped out of the cave.
She needs to learn proper manners and behavior, the Sword Spirit thought. I’ll leave that to Sister Gun-ha.
