Chapter 9: One Plum Blossom (1)

“Are you in your right mind, Elder Brother! No matter how talented she may be!”

The head of the sect, Master Jeongyang, slammed the table.

It was not the kind of outburst one should direct toward an elder martial brother.

Even so, Elder Jeonggang could not blame him.

Concern.

“The Heavenly Killing Star? Did you just say she’s the Heavenly Killing Star?”

“She’s not a child worth worrying about, Jeongyang. You know my eye for people.”

“That eye of yours has always brought turmoil to Mount Hua!”

“Look at Eunsong and Eunjeong. Did those two ever cause such chaos…?”

“At the very least, they weren’t the Heavenly Killing Star! They may be the bloodline of remnants from the Demon Sect who fled and hid, but they weren’t tainted by demonic energy!”

Jeongyang grabbed his head and began to groan.

“That she’s a daughter of a family executed for blasphemy—I can overlook that, Elder Brother. That much can be spun. We can say the sect accepts all talented disciples without bias, or whatever we need to say!”

“Then what exactly are you so worried about?”

“I’m worried about teaching the Heavenly Killing Star the sword!”

It was a valid concern.

In fact, the sect leader’s point was right on the mark.

Why else would she be called the Heavenly Killing Star?

Because she was a being destined to bring a storm of blood upon the martial world.

“So what are you suggesting? That we destroy the dantian of that young girl and cast her out?”

“I’m seriously considering it, so please don’t joke, Elder Brother.”

“The Heavenly Killing Star…”

Elder Jeonggang sipped the tea resting on the table.

Then, casting a sidelong glance at his junior who was clutching his head, he spoke gently:

“Instead of fussing, why don’t you go and see her yourself?”

“Who? The girl born under the Heavenly Killing Star?”

“Yes. Wouldn’t it be better to judge with your own eyes?”

“And what if I decide to destroy her dantian?”

Jeonggang put down his teacup and smiled slightly.

“That girl is my great-great-granddaughter.”

“Ha… Did you really have to go this far, Elder Brother? Truly?”

“There’s something I’ve heard… that made me do this.”

“What did you hear?”

★★★

Cheon Soyak had already known she would be disliked.

She knew the moment she stepped into the room.

It wasn’t as large as the other dormitories the disciples shared.

But that wasn’t the problem.

Unlike the other children who slept in groups of ten—

This was a private room.

“Too big,” she thought.

Comfortable, yes, but still…

She hadn’t imagined she’d be the only girl among the third-generation disciples of the Great Mount Hua Sect.

Just by glancing out at the training grounds through the window, there were easily over a hundred and twenty children.

Yet only one girl among them.

Cheon Soyak let out a sigh and began unpacking.

She stuffed her clothes into the wardrobe and hung her sword on the wall.

On the desk sat a training sword and a set of pristine white martial robes.

“Why did Master bother to buy this, if I was going to be issued one anyway?”

The Sleeve-Blossom Sword.

A real sword made in the size of a training blade, designed for disciples whose bodies hadn’t fully matured yet.

Cheon Soyak unsheathed the sword and gave it a light swing.

It wasn’t bad.

That was all.

The sword Eunsong had bought her had been flawless—from balance to weight, a true masterpiece.

Cheon Soyak carefully set the Sleeve-Blossom Sword down.

Among the third-generation disciples, a few used custom swords.

Children from families that could afford to provide such things.

Eunsong had entered the sect under special circumstances.

Surely, she understood just how cruel jealousy and disdain from other children could be.

That’s why she had made sure Cheon Soyak wasn’t looked down upon.

At the very least, not neglected.

“She didn’t have to go that far for me.”

Cheon Soyak changed into the robe embroidered with plum blossoms, then sat cross-legged in the middle of the room.

As she closed her eyes and began to circulate her energy, a dormant force stirred deep within her dantian.

It was an inheritance from her father.

“…I still can only move a single strand.”

The energy of the Honhwagyeong (昏華經) was special.

An energy that resembled death—endlessly.

Yet, it was not demonic.

It was a power rooted in the natural cycle of life and death.

What blooms must also wither.

“Huuu…”

As she drew up the honhwa-gi from her dantian, a chill swept through the air.

A somber energy, as if it blew from the underworld.

Black plum blossoms bloomed on the floor beneath her seated form.

With each breath, external energy was pulled inward.

Once it circulated along her qi channels, the honhwa-gi infused her meridians, purifying and filtering out the impurities.

Cheon Soyak quietly observed within herself.

A space of total darkness.

The floor shimmered like a mirror-like surface of water.

She couldn’t tell how deep it went, but something was crouched atop it.

Golden eyes.

A white mane.

Jet-black scales.

It was clearly a Black Qilin.

A guardian spirit of the afterlife.

A sacred beast that governed death among all living things.

An immortal predator that hunted the undying.

This Black Qilin was the very embodiment and essence of Honhwagyeong.

When she reached toward it, it growled as if ready to bite.

But it never did.

It just looked… lonely.

Like her.

Every time she meditated, she would crouch before it and meet its gaze.

When she reached out, its rough mane and hard scales would brush against her hand.

And beneath that—an unfathomable stillness.

“Don’t hurt me, okay?”

Endless, boundless, unobstructed energy.

Its very presence was enough to strike fear.

So she always spoke to the spirit within her.

Even though she had no idea if it understood.

“That time I coughed up blood… it really hurt, you know?”

Then, the Black Qilin opened its eyes and rose.

It looked down at her with its massive frame,

nudged her over with its long snout—

Sniffed her, and licked her cheek.

“Ah, that tickles—hee…”

As if it had recognized her as the rightful heir to its master’s blood.

It even looked guilty.

And then—

The sealed energy in her dantian began to surge like the parted Red Sea.

The spirit didn’t stop pestering her.

Cheon Soyak instinctively understood its message:

It was sulking.

Tired of being left alone.

It must have originally dwelled in her father’s dantian.

And after losing its master, it had been passed on to her—

Yet she’d been too busy just staying alive to even cultivate properly.

No visits, no offerings. What kind of spirit would stay loyal to that kind of master?

“Okay. I promise—I won’t neglect you anymore.”

Only then did the Black Qilin stop licking her.

It lay down and wrapped its massive body around the girl.

Letting out soft sounds each time her small hand stroked its fur.

How long had she stayed like that?

Eventually, Cheon Soyak rose from her inner world.

Her first full circulation (daejuchun) was complete.

It was time to go.

“From now on, I’ll be counting on you.”

She patted the Qilin’s horn once and slowly opened her eyes.

And when she did—

“Did you just complete a full cycle of internal circulation?”

Standing before her was the sect leader, Master Jeongyang.

“Hiccup.”

Startled, she hiccupped.

★★★

“…I’m sorry.”

Only after Elder Jeonggang patted her back for half a sijin did the hiccups finally stop.

It truly was quite an embarrassing situation.

Cheon Soyak sat quietly, knees together, and asked politely,

“I’m fine. May I ask what brings you here, Sect Leader?”

“Ah, well, that is…”

Is it true?
Have you already opened your Greater Heavenly Meridians like Jeonggang-hyung claimed?

He wanted to ask, but there were too many ears listening.

It was just after the third-generation disciples had finished their afternoon training.

“And Elder Jeonggang? What brings you here?”

Cheon Soyak tilted her head slightly.

Unfortunately, Elder Jeonggang had no intention of preserving the Sect Leader’s dignity.

“Aigoo, our Sect Leader here just flat-out refuses to believe me, can you imagine?”

“Hey now, hyung. That’s enough.”

“Do you believe me now? That my great-granddisciple is a once-in-a-generation genius?”

“That’s not the point here.”

Elder Jeongyang extended his inner energy to block out the surrounding sound.

In an instant, silence enveloped them.

Having seen Eunsong do the same before, Cheon Soyak wasn’t surprised.

“I’ve heard… they call you Cheonsalseong—Heavenly Killing Star.”

“That is correct.”

“I’ll speak plainly. I’m afraid.”

Cheon Soyak blinked.

She didn’t understand what he meant—at least not right away.

“Then why have you not taken my life?”

“…What?”

“I am still young, small, and weak. If you fear me, Sect Leader, you could easily destroy me.”

For a moment, Jeongyang was at a loss for words.

She wasn’t wrong.

He could cripple her energy center and exile her.

He could eliminate her here, with no one ever knowing.

Jeonggang would fiercely object, but…

In the end, it was the Sect Leader’s decision.

So why hadn’t he?

No—why couldn’t he?

“How bold of you. Do you think I won’t?”

“No.”

But in those deep black eyes, there wasn’t a trace of fear.

Jeongyang tried to read what coiled behind those dark pupils—tried to glimpse the thing that rested in their depths—but he couldn’t see it.

All he could do was listen.

“I believe you won’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you are a good man, Sect Leader.”

It was an unexpected answer.

Even Jeonggang widened his eyes in surprise.

“…You think I’m a good man?”

Jeongyang let the words linger on his tongue.

“And what made you think that?”

“Because you’re hesitating.”

“Hesitating?”

Cheon Soyak nodded.

“A person’s goodness comes from their hesitation.
If someone does not pause to reflect on their choices, they are little more than a beast.

It is because you constantly consider what is right, and how to act accordingly, that you do not fall into the arrogance of believing yourself to be righteous.”

Silence followed.

Both Jeongyang and Jeonggang understood the weight of those words.

And they knew—it wasn’t the kind of thing that should come from a child’s mouth.

But Cheon Soyak continued.

“You’re considering whether to exile me, kill me, or seal my martial arts.”

“So you knew.”

“You must’ve heard about me from my master, so you came.”

“And yet, you remain so calm.”

Cheon Soyak was unwavering.

Even in front of the Sect Leader of the Mount Hua Sect—Elder Jeongyang himself.

“I’ve done everything I can.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Even after my parents died, I clung to life with all my strength. I held onto my master’s hand and came here.
I’ve answered every question you’ve asked to the best of my ability.”

Cheon Soyak clenched her tiny fists.

“So I won’t simply sit and take whatever comes.”

Jeongyang’s brows arched.

So did Jeonggang’s.

Neither of them had expected this.

“Mount Hua is a martial sect. And I am a daughter of that martial blood. If you think I would quietly accept death just because I was expelled… No.
That is not who I am.”

“You think you could harm even a single hair on my head?”

“I’m not that foolish.”

“Then why such a reckless idea—”

“One.”

Still, the girl sitting before the Sect Leader held her head high.

“Even so, I will die standing.”

The plum blossom is one of the Four Noble Plants.

In Mount Hua, the plum blossom is revered above all—not as a symbol of beauty, but of integrity.

It is the first flower to bloom even before the last snows of early spring have melted.

A symbol of spirit, virtue, and unyielding honor.

In her stance, Jeongyang saw that very plum blossom.

A snow plum blooming in the dead of winter, beneath the midnight moon.