Vol 1 Chapter 3 – Peony Blossom Part 1

“The Third Disciple has returned?”

The man, lifting a teacup toward his lips, turned to the subordinate who had brought him the report.

“Yes, the Third Disciple returned some time ago, but Heedowon has been unusually busy. It seems he’ll be staying in Heukcheon for a while.”

“I suppose I’ll have to pay a visit to that adorable disciple.”

The man closed his eyes as if savoring the delicate fragrance of the tea, but there was a cold curve at the corner of his mouth that betrayed his words.

The one draped in a long robe embroidered with blooming peonies was none other than Mo Yong Yuun, the eldest disciple. He was the sole surviving member of the Mo Yong family, whose line had been destroyed by the Hyeolgyo, and the very first disciple taken in by Yae Jinrang, Lord of Heukcheon. His striking, ornate features at times faintly resembled those of his master.

Mo Yong Yuun held deep reverence for Yae Jinrang, who was both his savior and his teacher. But that did not mean he welcomed the presence of his junior with the same affection.

“Shall I send word?”

“The cold-hearted disciple won’t come on his own, so I suppose I’ll have to be the one to visit.”

Mo Yong Yuun set down his teacup.

“Why are you only reporting this now? I heard it’s been several days since he returned.”

“We assumed… as usual, he would only stop briefly on the outskirts of Heukcheon before leaving again. He wasn’t seen for about three days. Then, unexpectedly, he entered Heedowon.”

“So he stayed longer than usual.”

There was a chill in Mo Yong Yuun’s voice. His subordinate lowered his head.

“This lowly one made a poor judgment. I ask for punishment.”

Thinking Kang Oh would leave again after a short stay, the subordinate had chosen not to report it to the eldest disciple. News of the youngest disciple always put Mo Yong Yuun in a foul mood, and the subordinate had tried to avoid provoking it. But a single misjudgment led to consequences that could not be undone. What he thought would be a short visit turned out to be a return. And now, the lights in Heedowon had been lit once more.

The problem was that this news had not reached the eldest disciple in time. In trying to avoid disturbing Mo Yong Yuun’s temper, the subordinate had only caused greater trouble.

“Get up. I’m not such a cruel master.”

Mo Yong Yuun spoke, but the subordinate remained prostrated on the floor. It was only when Moyong Yuun rose from his seat and personally helped him up that he moved.

“Do not make the same mistake again.”

His tone sounded gentle, but the words were sharp.

“This lowly one will keep it in mind and carry it out.”

“Go.”

Relieved by the dry command, the masked subordinate withdrew in silence.

Mo Yong Yuun poured himself another cup of tea and raised it slowly. As his face rippled across the surface of the tea, he let out a quiet sigh.

There was nothing that pleased him. Not the master who, despite all his devotion, never showed him even half the affection he gave Kang Oh. Not the youngest disciple who walked about with an arrogant face, as if that affection was rightfully his. And not the current situation, where he found himself saddled with subordinates more pitiful than the lowborn thugs of the Honamdan.

But the timing wasn’t right to overturn the game just yet. Mo Yong Yuun didn’t have enough power of his own. If his family had survived, things might have been different.

The Mo Yong clan had once held so much influence that some claimed the Nine Great Sects should be revised to include a sixth great house. But when the Hyeolgyo raised its banner and swept across the martial world in flames, the first plaque to be burned was the Mo Yong clan’s.

There was no help to be expected from them now. In fact, had the clan survived intact, Mo Yong Yuun would never have walked the path of the demonic. He would have grown up under the righteous faction, looking down on the fringe warriors of Heukcheon with disdain.

From a young age, everything he had learned in the Mo Yong household had taught him to loathe the demonic path and those who followed it.

Amid the ruins of the fallen Mo Yong clan, he had been saved by a martial artist so beautiful, he could have been mistaken for a celestial maiden. That man was Yae Jinrang.

From that day on, Mo Yong Yuun revered the Lord of Heukcheon not only as the one who had saved his life, but as his teacher. And yet, growing up in an environment that had once instilled only hatred toward the demonic path had left something twisted in the core of his being.

Mo Yong Yuun harbored a quiet sense of inferiority toward those who’s walked the righteous path. If the Mo Yong clan had not been annihilated, he would have grown up as the heir to one of the most esteemed noble families in the martial world. He was born to a station far above those who mocked the demonic path as heretical.

He no longer wished to return to the orthodox side. There was nothing left for him there. If he went back, all that awaited him was the grueling task of rebuilding his house from bare earth. It was a dream that could take a lifetime and still come to nothing. He would likely have to bow his head to the Five Great Houses, begging help from those he once saw as equals or even beneath him. That was something Mo Yong Yuun could never accept.

From the moment he chose to follow Yae Jinrang, he had set his sights on becoming the next Lord of Heukcheon. The second disciple taken in by their master was impatient and lacked ability. The real problem was the youngest disciple.

Gripped by unease, Mo Yong Yuun threw himself into cultivation with desperation. But his progress in martial arts only grew slower, and even when he turned to academic pursuits, it failed to draw any more attention from Yae Jinrang. Eventually, he even dabbled in formations and forbidden arts that the Lord of Heukcheon pursued for personal interest, but that too failed to earn him any favor. He did not pursue it deeply.

Given all this, Mo Yong Yuun did not like the youngest disciple. Since he had already joined the demonic path, his ambition had always been to rise to its peak and look down upon all the righteous sects from above. Kang Oh’s appearance, which might threaten that goal, could only be seen as an obstacle. Still, Mo Yong Yuun was careful never to fall out of favor with their master. He made sure not to show any signs of hostility. Outwardly, he presented himself as the calm and dependable eldest disciple, always lowering his head in deference.

If nothing else, patience was one of his strengths. When his siblings and kin were slaughtered before his eyes, unable to endure the interrogation, he had hidden beneath the floorboards and bitten his tongue until even his breathing stopped. The son of the maid who raised him was caught by one of the martial artists searching for Mo Yong blood. The boy insisted he knew nothing, but they killed him anyway. When his body hit the floor with a heavy thud, his head turned in the direction where Mo Yong Yuun was hiding. His empty eyes held nothing.

It was the first time Mo Yong Yuun had ever seen a corpse. He couldn’t even shut his eyes. He nearly screamed, but his own hand clamped down over his mouth in desperation. He swallowed his tears, endured the grief, and forced himself to look away. That was how he survived. And because he survived, he was able to be saved by Yae Jinrang.

Even with blood spattered across his face, that martial artist looked so beautiful that, in that moment, he seemed like a celestial maiden. In his childish heart, Mo Yong Yuun believed without doubt that he had been chosen by the heavens. He told himself there had to be a reason he alone survived while everyone else died. He clung to that belief to keep from going mad. He forced himself to believe it, to trample down the guilt that crawled slowly out from within.

Endurance had always been his strength. But even Mo Yong Yuun, as human as anyone else, had his limits. And on days like today, he wondered if the patience he had stretched so far might finally break.

I still have to endure this, don’t I?

He raised the teacup once again and took a sip. While he had been lost in thought, the tea had gone lukewarm.

“Is anyone there?”

At the call of the eldest disciple, a servant who had been waiting nearby quickly approached and bowed.

“Bring me ink, brush, and paper. I have a letter to write.”

“Yes.”

Once Kang Oh returned to Heukcheon, he rarely left Heedowon. But Mo Yong Yuun knew how to draw him out. All he had to do was place a convenient excuse into the Lord’s hands, something that would serve as justification for summoning his beloved disciple.

“The peonies at Ilwondang should be blooming soon.”

Humming under his breath, Mo Yong Yuun wondered if the youngest enjoyed flower-viewing.

—

That evening, at Heedowon

“Flower-viewing?”

Kang Oh glanced at the one delivering the message.

“Yes. The peonies at Ilwondang are in full bloom, so the eldest disciple has extended an invitation to share a drink. The Lord has asked that both the second and third disciples join the gathering tonight.”

“So I’ll be seeing both of my senior brothers.”

Kang Oh twisted his lips into a smile. It wasn’t welcome news. And since it was a gathering arranged by the eldest, it would likely be an opening probe. Even before it began, he was already tired. He rubbed between his brows.

There was no way Yae Jinrang didn’t see through his disciple’s intentions. Accepting the eldest disciple’s invitation was likely a way to draw out Kang Oh, who had brought Woo back and then shut himself away in Heedowon.

With no excuse to decline, Kang Oh spoke to the messenger sent by his master.

“Please thank the Master for the invitation. I’ll bring a bottle of fine liquor as a gesture.”

“The Lord will be very pleased to hear that.”

Watching the man walk away with his face lit up in relief, Kang Oh let out a bitter smile. The truth was, he still hadn’t decided what face he should wear when he saw his master again. That was why he had remained holed up in Heedowon all this time. But he had let himself forget that a jackal was always nearby, circling, waiting to sink its teeth in the moment he showed weakness. His head had simply been too clouded.

It wasn’t difficult to admit that his master, too, was only human. He had acknowledged that his own judgment had been too harsh and handed Woo over, so that matter could be considered settled. All that was left for Kang Oh was to see Woo healed and sent somewhere far away from Heukcheon. Everything that happened in Heukcheon was within the master’s grasp, and there was no way Yae Jinrang wasn’t aware of Kang Oh’s intentions. But he had made a promise to Kang Oh that he would not intervene.

That left Kang Oh free to settle the matter in his own way. He wanted to cut the chain of obligation cleanly and be done with it. But the problem was Woo.

There was a reason for that. Even if he were sent off to a nice home with attendants, Woo seemed like the type who would still walk barefoot across dirt floors. Even with others to help, he’d insist on chopping firewood himself. If there were sand in his rice, he’d chew through it without a word of complaint. That stubborn, desperate refusal to accept anything good made it feel like he was bent on dying.

He’s clearly insane.

Listing out his reasons one by one, Kang Oh pressed his forehead against the wall. What did it matter if a servant died on his own somewhere? And yet he couldn’t ignore it. Maybe it was because the master had once said that Woo carried a thief’s blood. The thought kept circling in his head.

If he truly had the instincts to steal and survive, would it have been easier to leave him alone?

Kang Oh had asked himself that question, but no answer came easily. That must have been why, even knowing just how deeply Master despised Woo, he had still kept him under Heedowon’s roof. It was supposed to be for protection, but in truth, Kang Oh would soon be leaving Heukcheon again. Once he was gone, keeping Woo here would be no different from handing him right back over to the Master.

He needed to deal with Woo before another challenge letter arrived.

Kang Oh tapped his finger against the table. It was something he often did whenever he was caught in thought. He turned toward the window and paused as his gaze landed on the garden, where flowers of all kinds were in full bloom.

Now that he thought of it, he had never once seen Woo wandering outside. Not once, aside from the day he had gone out to put away the basin.

A sense of unease crept in. Kang Oh rose to his feet. He had a suspicion, but to be sure, he would have to ask Woo directly.

He strode across the corridor and stopped in front of the room where Woo was staying. After a short cough, someone inside stirred in a hurry. A moment later, the paper door slid open, and Woo cautiously peeked out.

“Th-Third Disciple.”

He had always kept his head low, so standing frozen with his arms awkwardly spread was unusual. Kang Oh glanced past him, then narrowed his eyes.

When Woo had looked miserable after losing the blanket, Kang Oh had given it back. Now it looked like Woo had practically settled his entire life onto it. The bed was untouched. That same blanket had been spread on the floor, just like before. He had suspected it might be the case, and now it was confirmed.

“So you didn’t like the guest room.”

Kang Oh’s tone was quiet, almost indifferent.

Woo shook his head.

“I—it’s just… it felt too fine for someone like me.”

“I see. If it makes you uncomfortable, there’s nothing I can do.”

Kang Oh’s voice turned cold. It dropped like a blade, and Woo felt a chill run down the back of his neck. Not out of fear, but because the coldness itself felt so unfamiliar.

He bowed again, so low that only the top of his head was visible. Kang Oh’s brows drew tighter. Unless he was startled, Woo’s spine never seemed to straighten.

“You’ve barely been outside lately. Is your body still unwell?”

If Woo was still unwell, Kang Oh intended to drag the physician back and make him pay for his mistake.

Perhaps sensing that dangerous shift in atmosphere, Woo flinched and quickly spoke.

“N-no, that’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

“Would it be alright… if I left?”

“Left? And where exactly would you go?”

The question came right back at him, and Woo bit his lip. The servants’ quarters? But that wasn’t where he belonged anymore. Baekra? That place no longer belonged to him either. He knew better than to presume. He couldn’t return.

Truthfully, he just didn’t want to remain here in Heedowon.

“Anywhere is fine. I just don’t deserve anything this place offers.”

His voice was calm. He didn’t sound like a lowly servant groveling, but more like a scholar quietly accepting punishment for his sins.

Kang Oh changed the subject.

“Don’t you feel stifled, staying in your room all the time?”

Sensing that his request would be denied, Woo gave a bitter smile.

“The window is wide, so it’s fine.”

Kang Oh let out a quiet scoff.
“This place is cramped.”

His brow furrowed as he spoke. He genuinely meant it.

Long ago, Woo had found Kang Oh living in a storage room even smaller than this one and brought him back to Baekragung. Remembering that, his lips tightened involuntarily.

“You remember the hut I used to live in up in the hills, don’t you?”

“That wasn’t a house. Would you prefer a larger room?”

“That would be too much,” Woo replied. He kept his eyes down, as always.

Even a parrot repeating the same phrase all day might have a broader vocabulary than Woo.

Kang Oh reminded himself why he had come in the first place and spoke again.

“The garden is in full bloom.”

“Yes.”

“Shall we go see it together?”

“Yes? I—I mean…”

Woo had nodded before realizing it and stiffened in embarrassment.

Kang Oh smiled for the first time since entering the room. That faint curve of his lips caught Woo off guard, and before he had the chance to take back his answer, Kang Oh had already taken his wrist and led him outside.

Kang Oh walked slowly, matching Woo’s pace as they made their way along the garden path.