Camellia 40

A fateful encounter is both wondrous and unfair.

Those chosen by destiny stumble upon it like they would a stone on the road. Those who are not, no matter how hard they pray until their knees wear out, may never meet it.

So Seolyeong was a martial artist not just chosen by fate, but favored to a ridiculous degree.

When he came to, he was sprawled out on the cold floor of a limestone cave. He groaned, rolled over and looked around, dazed.

‘…Where is this?’

Large stalactites were dripping water. The droplets that touched his cheek were icy. The cave was wide. There was even a deep, dark lake, which made Seolyeong frown.

‘Was there a cave like this on Mount Yonyeong?’

He tried to recall, but nothing came to mind. Dragging himself on his knees to the water’s edge, he checked his reflection in the surface. Just as expected, he looked like a wreck.

‘Ugh, damn it. That bastard Jeongui… If he weren’t Ahwi hyung-nim’s blood, I’d have killed him with my own hands.’

At seventeen, Seolyeong had a mouth as foul as a street thug. He naturally mellowed out with age, but back then, he would curse without hesitation when irritated.

Just thinking about the hole Murong Jeongui had punched into his stomach made Seolyeong clench his teeth even now.

Last time, it was Jeongui’s mother causing a scene. Now it was Jeongui himself. Alone in the cave, with only the slow sound of dripping water, Seolyeong cursed the pair thoroughly.

‘What good comes from making an enemy of a blood fiend? You people can’t rest unless you provoke me, huh? What if I snapped and went, “Fuck it, I may as well go mad,” and bit someone’s neck?’

He was muttering like that when he suddenly paused.

Wait a second.

‘…Why doesn’t anything hurt?’

He quickly touched his abdomen. Strangely, there was no wound. Pulling up his shredded robe, he examined himself thoroughly, but there wasn’t even a scratch.

What the hell happened?

As he ran his fingers over the smooth muscle of his abs, he sensed a strange vibration.

Zzzzng!

Seolyeong turned his head around to find the source, his eyes went wide. A spoon, about the size of his palm, was flying toward him with a buzzing sound.

Maybe I’m dead and seeing things, he thought. Or maybe this was one of those dreams where you can’t tell what’s real anymore.

But then a droplet of water fell from the stalactite and landed on his nose.

‘Ack. Cold…’

The spoon stopped right in front of his nose. It held a milky-white liquid. The spoon nudged his lips as if encouraging him to drink.

Seolyeong blinked.

‘You want me to drink this?’

The spoon nodded softly, trying not to spill the liquid.

‘What is it?’

Of course, it had no way to answer. When Seolyeong didn’t budge, the spoon started jabbing his mouth harder, like it was going to force it in.

Seeing he had no choice, Seolyeong opened his mouth. He was alive, after all. His wound was fully healed.

Whatever this stuff was, it clearly wasn’t poison. That spoon had probably nursed him back to health…

Then, the moment the liquid touched his tongue, Seolyeong’s hand shot out and grabbed the spoon.

Without wasting a drop, he licked it clean, down to the last trace clinging to the bowl of the spoon. His throat bobbed, swallowing the last of it.

‘Haa…’

His crimson eyes flooded with bliss, and his grip loosened. His gaze turned hazy. A pure flow of Qi spread through his body, cleansing every trace of impurity. The black sweat that emerged evaporated into mist. The spoon twirled in delight. This was it, transformation of bone and rebirth.

Seolyeong realized he was being reborn. His rusty bones were being replaced, his flesh had become more elastic, not that it wasn’t already supple, and most importantly, Qi was stirring in his lower danjeon.

Yes. His danjeon, the very core of a martial artist’s life, had been completely restored. And more than restored, it was overflowing with power. He even felt younger.

His thick lashes trembled.

As the gray mist dissipated, Seolyeong slowly stood. His limbs felt light. Not just that, he could feel the surplus of inner power extending into his very hair.

Enough Qi to take a full year to accumulate had flooded into him.

‘Was that… Refined Azure Elixir?’

He voiced his suspicion. The spoon released a strong pulse of energy.

The entire cave shook. A blinding white aura flared up. It stung his eyes, but Seolyeong refused to look away.

Before his eyes, the humble spoon began to transform, into a gleaming sword.

Flowing Water Transformation, Seonwol-do.

A legendary blade said to change shape like flowing water, communicate with its master, emit its own energy, and choose its wielder.

And now it floated before Seolyeong, scattering white sword Qi as if urging him to take the hilt.

That day, as he became the master of the transforming blade, Seolyeong thought to himself.,

Wonsi Cheonjon really must love me too much.

This wasn’t favoritism. This was obsession. Though he had been scorned and persecuted for being a blood fiend, though he had been cut open in the danjeon, twice, he had survived.

He had met the white-haired Divine Healer, who people dreamed of but never found.

He had been chosen by the Flowing Water Transformation Sword.

And now, he had inner power surpassing what he had before. The sword’s grip fit perfectly in Seolyeong’s hand, as if made for him.

When he smiled, the blade curved in response.

‘You’re smiling with me, huh?’

Nod, nod. The blade tip wobbled as if it was nodding in agreement.

Seolyeong burst into laughter.

To heal its dying master, Seonwol-do had not only fed him Refined Azure Elixir but also ground up every spirit creature in the cave into powder.

The blade buzzed with pride.

Until now, Seonwol-do had always chosen masters based on righteousness.

But each of them had met a tragic end.

So this time, it had decided, may as well pick a doomed one, a flashy little thing, and enjoy the show before he dies.

Turned out, after saving him, Seolyeong looked even better than expected.

In the dark, he glowed with a saint-like radiance, made more mysterious after rebirth.

‘Thanks… mutt.’

If Seolyeong hadn’t said that, hadn’t given the blade that awful nickname, it might’ve liked him more.

‘You whimper like a stray dog,’ he laughed, stroking the sword with exaggerated familiarity.

‘Once the Flowing Water Transformation Sword chooses its master, it stays loyal until death, right? You’re so loyal that the gods turned you into a spirit weapon, they say. So that means no matter what I tell you to do, you’re stuck with me?’

Seonwol-do suddenly felt something had gone terribly wrong.

‘Hey, mutt. Can you turn into chopsticks too, or just a spoon?’

‘…….’

‘How about a rice bowl? Can you be a teapot?’

Maybe I should’ve chosen a kinder, short-lived fool instead…Seonwol-do went silent.

Seolyeong nearly choked laughing.

‘Hey! You’re just flying tableware, aren’t you? Are you better at brewing white tea or green tea? First, try boiling some of that lake water! Your master is really in the mood for a hot drink!’

*

The Murong clan was thrown into chaos.

The boy they thought had fallen to his death and been torn apart by eagles returned, holding a legendary sword.

Murong Wi, realizing his sworn brother had achieved enlightenment and broken into the Hwakyung realm, gave him this advice:

‘You must remain hidden now, Ahyeong. The stronger you become, the harsher the world will be.’

‘Yes, hyungnim. I’ll keep that in mind.’

The martial world still didn’t trust him. Most feared what a blood fiend of his power might do. And many others… were just waiting for him to slip up.

Worse, Murong Jeongui, found poisoned by the Seoncheon Heupgongju, died soon after.

And then Murong Bok, already battling illness, passed away as well. With the death of his benefactor, Seolyeong was no longer free to leave.

As if it had been planned all along, the Murim Alliance Leader sealed him in Yonyeong.