The Sword Phoenix, Dokgo Seol, and Her Mistake
Cheon Ryu-yeong, who had been walking while gazing at the sky, fell far enough behind his group that he finally stopped and raised a hand, pointing toward the Conqueror's Star.
"Many who live in the martial world pray to that star, don't they? They wish to be the Conqueror's Star themselves—or, failing that, to receive even a sliver of its fortune."
Gwang Hyeol-chang followed his gaze to the star and murmured,
"I'll let you live."
"…."
"The two reasons you gave were both sound. And your third… it set my heart ablaze, if only for a moment. That's enough."
Cheon Ryu-yeong lowered his eyes to meet Gwang Hyeol-chang's and smiled. Somehow, the two had shifted from enemies to… something else.
"The position of Supreme Green Forest Chief among the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds is first decided by the nomination of the previous chief. Second, it's determined by the majority vote of the eighteen chieftains."
"Heh… So you've been with an escort company long enough to know your way around the martial world? Or is that something anyone would know?"
"If you let us porters go, the world will take notice of Aso Stronghold. They'll see you as a man of both ruthlessness and mercy."
"…."
"The other chieftains will see it the same way. So will the Supreme Chief. Tell them you made your decision based on the first reason I gave. Send word to both the Supreme Chief and the other chieftains."
Gwang Hyeol-chang waved a hand dismissively.
"Enough talk of the seat of Green Forest's leader. Impossible. Compared to my two sworn elder brothers, my strength is far too lacking. And our stronghold is on the farthest frontier."
"Yes. And that's why no one will guard against you. That's where the answer lies."
"What do you mean?"
His voice trembled ever so slightly.
"Speak to the Eighteen Green Forest Chieftains in a way only you can. Tell them the Green Forest is on the wrong path."
"…?"
"Warn them—if Bangju Stronghold and Suhan Stronghold continue to compete as they are, the aftermath will be disastrous, and the Green Forest could even split in two. Plead with your two sworn brothers to embrace one another. No one will doubt your sincerity, because Aso Stronghold is the last anyone would suspect. Your weakness will become your strength."
Gwang Hyeol-chang's eyes shook like a sea struck by a storm. His face and lips twitched. But Cheon Ryu-yeong went on calmly, boldly.
"The Supreme Chief and many chieftains will take note of you—as the man who can unite the Green Forest instead of dividing it. Advocate harmony, not division. Lower yourself, support the others… and when the opportunity comes, you'll be ready. Don't let it pass you by."
Gwang Hyeol-chang found his hand clutching his own chest. His heart was pounding out of control. No matter how he tried, he couldn't calm it.
Cheon Ryu-yeong watched him quietly, and when the man seemed to settle a little, he said,
"The quarter hour is up. Shall we go back?"
Gwang Hyeol-chang didn't move. Cheon Ryu-yeong, who had taken a few steps ahead, turned.
"You're not coming?"
"I haven't even asked your name."
"I'm just an insignificant nobody."
"Tell me."
Ryu-yeong smiled faintly.
"My name is Cheon Ryu-yeong. That's the fourth reason you should spare me."
"…?"
"There's a saying—'Sai Weng loses his horse.' It means no one knows what fortune or misfortune life will bring. One day, if our positions are reversed, I promise I'll spare you once. Remember me. Remember my name."
Gwang Hyeol-chang's mouth twitched—then he burst into an even louder laugh than before.
"Kahahaha! What a remarkable man! I'll never meet another like you in my lifetime, hahahaha!"
In the middle of his roaring laughter, he suddenly grew serious, stepped forward, and gripped Cheon Ryu-yeong's shoulder hard.
"I'll never forget you. No—in fact, I'll make you a promise. If I ever seize the leadership of the Green Forest, I'll grant you one request, anything within my power."
Cheon Ryu-yeong only shrugged with a smile.
Neither of them could have imagined how tangled their fates would become.
There are three famous titles given to young talents under thirty within the orthodox martial world.
Five Dragons and Three Phoenixes (Oryong Sambong) — five exceptional men and three exceptional women, masters of both martial skill and intellect.
The Five Flowers of the Martial World (Murim Ohwa) — the five most beautiful maidens in the orthodox world.
The Twelve Months of the Martial World (Gangho Sibiwol) — twelve young men and women of extraordinary martial obsession, excluding those from the Nine Great Sects.
There is one person who holds a place in all three lists. The daughter of the Dokgo clan—Dokgo Seol.
The Sword Phoenix of the Five Dragons and Three Phoenixes.
The Blue Flower of the Five Flowers.
The Half-Moon of the Twelve Months.
Sword Phoenix, Blue Flower, and Half-Moon—three illustrious titles borne by one woman.
Now, dressed in men's clothing, she stood atop a barren hill, gazing intently to the west.
It was late afternoon on the prairie, the wind stilled.
The grass on the plains, the scattered clouds above, none seemed inclined to move. In the far distance, ridgelines rolled like waves, layer upon layer, scattering into the horizon—a sight that made her chest swell.
"So we'll be facing the Demonic Cult soon…"
Her voice trembled slightly.
She'd fought small skirmishes against bandits and minor sects of the unorthodox path before, but the thought of a grand battle against the Demonic Cult—a force that shook heaven and earth—was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Beyond those distant mountains lay the Sichuan branch of the Martial Alliance. For the past hundred years, it had repelled twelve assaults from both the Demonic Cult and foreign invaders—an unshakable bastion.
By tomorrow at midday, she would enter that branch as the fifth squad leader of the Alliance's Black Tortoise Unit, ready to face the Demonic Cult warriors due to arrive three days later.
After a deep breath, she turned.
To the west lay Chengdu, the heart of Sichuan, filled with countless pavilions. In the time of the Three Kingdoms, Liu Bei had made it his capital. Tonight, it would be her place of rest.
She rolled her neck to loosen her body, then descended the hill.
Just then, a young couple ascending the slope caught sight of her—her man's disguise still on—and froze.
What a breathtakingly handsome man!
The woman's eyes turned hazy, while the man's face flushed red with jealousy.
A noisy tavern, third floor.
Cheon Ryu-yeong sat at the table, his expression heavy with gloom.
It was a booth enclosed on all sides except for the entrance—a perfect spot for talking without worrying about prying eyes.
Around the round table sat ten porters, all looking at Cheon Ryu-yeong with eyes full of pity.
The table was laden with expensive delicacies they could never afford under normal circumstances, each man's cup filled to the brim with liquor.
On any other day, they would have attacked the food with ravenous zeal—but now, not one of them so much as lifted a pair of chopsticks, each wearing a downcast expression.
The oldest among them, old man Paho, let out a deep sigh and said to Cheon Ryu-yeong,
"The head of the escort company's gone mad. What did you do wrong to deserve being dismissed, eh? The real culprit is that dead chief escort, not you."
The youngest glanced around nervously.
"Grandpa Paho, your voice is too loud. What if someone from the escort company hears you?"
They had chosen an inn far from the escort company, even paying extra for a private booth. But still—walls had ears, and it never hurt to be careful.
Paho's face remained thunderous.
"Damn it. Did I say anything untrue? We barely make it back alive and they treat us like traitors? Ryu-yeong here's only 'crime' was saving our lives, and yet they dump all the blame on him and throw him out. Bastards."
A middle-aged man beside him slouched and muttered,
"Well, we can't quit—we'd starve. Living itself is the crime. Living's the crime."
The youngest nodded.
"Feels that way. Or maybe the crime is being poor and powerless. Or maybe it's being born without rich parents."
His voice trailed off, his head drooping. His eyes welled up until he rubbed them roughly with his sleeve.
All around, the rest of the tavern buzzed with laughter and cheer. But at this table, the air was heavy with grey despair.
Cheon Ryu-yeong lifted his cup and downed it in one go.
"I'm fine. I'd already suspected this would happen. But aren't you all overdoing it? Ordering so much food you may never taste again in your lives?"
Paho waved a hand.
"We all chipped in within our means. Don't worry about it—eat to your heart's content. This is all we can do to thank the man who saved our lives. I'm sorry, truly sorry."
His eyes grew red with emotion.
Cheon Ryu-yeong bit his lip.
His own future was uncertain, but he knew these men's livelihoods were just as precarious. For the next six months, they would be working for only half their usual pay.
The thought hurt.
Poverty was a chain that stripped people of dignity. But for that very reason, he believed it was all the more important to smile.
No matter how others saw him, he refused to see himself as pitiful.
To abandon himself, to think himself worthless… that would be too sad, too cruel a path of thorns.
He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of mung bean live fish from the platter, and tasted it.
"Wow, this is good. Try some. You too, kid."
His cheerfulness drew nods from the others, who finally reached for their chopsticks.
They smiled awkwardly, forcing laughter as they clinked cups.
"Heh… this stir-fried pork's a bit spicy, isn't it?"
"You idiot, this is Sichuan—spicy food's what we're known for. Outsiders always complain about the food. Hahaha."
"Heh, I know… still not used to it."
"Ryu-yeong, here's another drink. Hehehe."
"Grandpa, pour me one too. Heheheh."
So they laughed—if not genuinely, then by squeezing the laughter out of themselves—ate, talked, clinked cups, and drank.
Then, suddenly, the youngest burst into tears.
"I can't laugh anymore… sob…"
The laughter died in unison. The youngest clenched his teeth and wept.
"Sorry… it's just so unfair. For people like us, is even surviving a crime?"
"…."
"Didn't heaven give us life? So why? What did I ever do wrong? All I've ever done is work myself to the bone… why is it still so hard just to keep food in my mouth? And why do we have to live being looked down on? What did I do to the great and powerful to deserve that?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong and old man Paho both bit their lips hard, heads lifting.
Out of the eleven at the table, none dared to cry along with him. If even one joined in, the booth might fill with wailing loud enough to shake the inn.
So instead, they wept inwardly, silently, and drained their cups.
After about a quarter of an hour, the youngest let out a long sigh and smiled faintly.
"Oddly enough, I feel better after crying."
Paho nodded.
"I know what you mean. I cried my eyes out inside, and now I feel lighter. Hahaha."
"Heheheh."
"Hahahaha."
This time, the laughter was real.
That's how people live—burying poverty, pain, grief, and regret deep in their hearts with tears and laughter.
"Man, when I first saw you back there, Ryu-yeong, I was scared stiff. Even the chief escorts turned pale, but you looked calmer than usual."
"Yeah, I saw it too. Arrows raining down, bandits swarming from every side—and you standing there like it was nothing. Gave me more chills than the bandits themselves."
"Ha, and how about when a bandit pointed a sword at you and you just smiled and took a drink? My heart nearly stopped."
"That was nothing—when Blood Spear, covered in blood, dropped the chief escort's head and came at you with that killing aura, I thought we were done for. But you smiled and met him… I was awed."
"Awe? I nearly pissed myself."
"Hahaha!"
Fueled by drink, they poured out all the thoughts and feelings they'd kept buried.
None of them realized that someone nearby was listening intently to every word.
It was the Sword Phoenix—Dokgo Seol.