Camellia 11

The strange humming didn’t stop. Still riding the high from teasing Si Pungjae, Seolyeong cheerfully followed behind Nabisalsoo.

Nabisalsoo, whose primary skill was sound-based martial arts, felt like his ears were rotting from the off-key tune. It was impressive how someone with such a terrible sense of pitch could hum so brazenly.

The rear garden was filled with magnolia and peach trees, all covered in a thin layer of frost. In any ordinary forest, they would have bloomed in full, spreading a light, sweet fragrance. But here, right before blossoming, the buds had frozen over, trembling in the sharp wind.

Seolyeong stood silently at the edge of the rear garden, where all signs of life seemed to be holding their breath.

Nabisalsoo turned to him and said,

“There are a few things I must ask of you.”

Seolyeong’s eyes were drawn to his lips, which had turned a deep blue.

Yeonhu Mountain, known to be the highest peak in the Sipman Daesan range, had become a snow-covered mountain and now harbored a ruthless, biting cold. The chill that cut through bone was enough to make even Seolyeong, a blood fiend, shiver slightly. For a human body, it would have been several times more unbearable.

As Seolyeong lit a small flame at his fingertips, Nabisalsoo’s expression tightened. Having someone from the orthodox sect show concern for him only made his resistance rise.

“You should warm up before making requests.”

The Baekseol of the Murong clan might have been eccentric, but he was also warm-hearted. If he were just a selfish scold, Murong’s eldest son would never have sworn brotherhood with him.

Seolyeong scanned Nabisalsoo’s expression and said,

“If you keep this up, you might suffer meridian collapse.”

And for a martial artist, that was the same as a death sentence.

Nabisalsoo said in a low voice,

“…Do not attempt to govern our sect with naïve goodwill. This is not something for Sogyoju-nim to interfere in, and such concern leaves no favorable impression on me.”

Since the man was seething at the idea of being warmed up, Seolyeong quietly extinguished the flame.

Nabisalsoo returned to the matter at hand.

“First, do not speak under any circumstances in the Supreme One’s presence. Second, respond only with nods. Third, you are not permitted to decline anything, so only nod up and down. Fourth, do not make eye contact with him. Fifth, refrain from showing any intense facial expressions.”

Five rules just to meet someone. Quite the difficult husband.

Seolyeong frowned, clearly dissatisfied.

“How am I supposed to follow all that? Can’t you cut it down a little?”

Nabisalsoo shook his head.

“No. You can absolutely manage it. Not even a five-year-old has ever broken these rules. If Sogyoju-nim’s judgment is inferior to that of a five-year-old, it would indeed be a problem… but otherwise, you’ll be fine.”

He stepped aside then. Too much time had already passed, and if he delayed further, it could cause trouble for him too. When Seolyeong didn’t move, Nabisalsoo urged him again.

“Please, go to the Sect Leader…”

“Aren’t you someone who doesn’t practice poison arts?”

The offbeat question cut him off. Nabisalsoo frowned. Gone was Seolyeong’s light, frivolous expression. He was now staring straight at him.

Those who trained their martial arts with poison always left traces in their pressure points. The sluggish, sticky blood meridians would naturally give off the scent of toxins.

Si Pungjae was an example. He had relied solely on poison arts, and his body had failed to keep up with the resulting force, leaving him broken. That was why Seolyeong had lectured him about the importance of internal discipline. Letting rotting blood fester could be fatal.

“…What are you talking about?”

But the young man with the pipa showed no signs of toxic aftereffects. Even Si Pungwoon, Pungjae’s younger brother, gave off a poisonous aura. Yet this man had the body of a normal martial artist.

Seolyeong floated a theory.

“Are you perhaps… a spy sent by the orthodox sect?”

The young man flushed with outrage and shouted,

“How dare you say something like that to me, Yeoso…!”

The name“Yeoso” made Seolyeong’s face instantly harden.

“…Yeoso? That’s your name?”

So that was where he’d heard it. It was the name given by the boy he had met at the gate.

“You’re the one who had those brown-belted thugs in black robes waiting there, aren’t you?”

“…”

Apparently, Nabisalsoo had acted out in spite at the idea of a bride being sent from the hated orthodox sect. Now he avoided Seolyeong’s eyes with a guilty look.

But Seolyeong, showing rare mercy, let it go.

“Well, I tend to be forgiving toward the mistakes of slow-witted brats, so let’s move on. Has the Sect Leader not taught you martial arts?”

With a flick, the bronze-colored pipa slung over the young man’s back landed smoothly in Seolyeong’s hands.

“A piece by Master Myeong Eunwi.”

In the blink of an eye, his weapon had been stolen. Nabisalsoo’s eyes lost all reason.

The only reason he had tolerated this absurd man who claimed to be the Sect Leader’s bride was because of the order to restrain himself. But now, with the precious pipa touched by that man’s filthy hands, he couldn’t hold back. Just as he reached for the axe at his waist, Seolyeong whistled a shrill, unstable note.

With a thunderous whoosh, a massive weapon hurtled through the air.

It was Seonwol-do¹, the weapon he had left behind in the room.

The great sword slammed into the ground at his feet. Nabisalsoo stared at it in disbelief.

Weapons were a reflection of the warrior who wielded them. Just as the weapons of respected warriors carried a strength equal to their masters’, this sword exuded overwhelming power.

Just seeing it made things clear. He was no match for this man. The person standing before him was an absolute powerhouse. Only now did Nabisalsoo understand why Cheonsin had told him, “Restrain yourself.”

When Seolyeong called out sweetly, “You little mutt,” Seonwol-do flared with blinding white sword energy. It looked pleased at being summoned by its master.

But the scolding that followed was severe.

“Stop showing off and keep it down, you dumb mutt. I told you not to make a scene every time I call you!”

Shrinking back with a metallic whine, Seonwol-do folded in on itself. Seolyeong grabbed the hilt, which was engraved with a peony blossom. The gleaming blade shrank in an instant, transforming into a thin ring.

It slipped onto his fourth finger and now looked like a plain silver ring, without any ornamentation.

Nabisalsoo was dumbfounded.

What… what did I just see?

He couldn’t believe the legendary Flowing Water Transformation Sword actually existed. Said to adapt its form like water and assist its master with loyalty, it was a dream weapon for any martial artist.

After inspecting the pipa to his satisfaction, Seolyeong returned it and said,

“My little mutt loves to show off in front of others. If it startled you, I apologize. He’s not a bad guy, so try not to hold it against him.”

Fortunately, the only thing Nabisalsoo held a grudge against was Seolyeong himself.

Nabisalsoo barely managed to speak.

“…You’ll have to leave the weapon here.”

As his gaze fell on Seolyeong’s hand, the latter laughed softly. He swept his long hair behind his ear and whispered like he was revealing a secret.

“If I’m going to follow all five of your rules, I absolutely need this sword. It may be a bit arrogant, but it has more patience than I do. It always knows exactly when I need to hold back. Thanks to that, I’ve avoided more than one fight.”

“No exceptions. Outsiders may not carry weapons.”

“I’m the Sect Leader’s bride.”

Nabisalsoo scoffed.

“You haven’t even had the wedding yet.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to duel your lord.”

“…”

“I can already see it. Me, unable to suppress my rage, challenging him to a duel. What a picture. A newlywed couple, fighting it out like something from an ink painting. Romantic, don’t you think? Care to watch?”

Seolyeong ended the argument with that casual threat.

Biting down gently on the ring, he disappeared into the rear garden. Nabisalsoo watched him go with a look of surrender. Seonwol-do whined that it hurt, but Seolyeong ignored it and kept chewing.

In the legends, the Flowing Water Transformation Sword was known for its reverent attitude, unbending spirit, and noble demeanor. But in reality, it was nothing like that.

Seonwol-do, which Seolyeong had discovered after falling off a cliff as a child, was bratty and immature. If he didn’t keep it in check, it would run wild. And the only way to control it was with fear.

“You little mutt. When I call you, you’re supposed to come quietly and sit in my hand. Not prance around showing off your shine. You embarrass me in front of everyone. Just once more, if you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll hammer you flat myself. I’ll turn you into a shovel for scooping horse dung from a stable. That’s not a joke.”

His voice echoed loudly through the garden as he walked. And so, the man waiting atop a four-hundred-year-old tree had no choice but to overhear everything. Or more precisely, overhear a conversation between a human and an object.

The object had no voice of its own, so all it could do was vibrate, letting out a whining jiiing, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

“You talk a lot….”

Cheonsin, Sahyeol Amje, took in the scent of grass and leapt down from the tree. His bride’s presence was drawing near.

1. 선 immortal, transcendent 월 moon 도 blade, sword, saber ↩︎