Dokgo Seol forced back the sighs that kept rising up in her throat.
It pained her that what came to her so easily was something so desperately needed by this person.
She managed to speak in a voice that barely crawled out, struggling to keep tears from seeping into it.
"Please wait here."
"…What?"
When Cheon Ryu-yeong gave her a puzzled look, Dokgo Seol forced a smile.
"There isn't much time left before the Inauguration, but until then you should wrap a cold, wet cloth around your forehead. And… I'll also find you a long robe to cover those sweat-soaked clothes. How can you face the enemy with dignity if you're drenched like this?"
At her words, Cheon Ryu-yeong smiled brightly. That smile hurt even more, and Dokgo Seol quickly turned away and rushed outside.
Bursting through the door as if fleeing, she was about to weep—but she couldn't. Outside, several people were waiting with solemn faces:
Her father, the Invincible Sword Han Chugwang, the Wolf King Bang Yacheol, Namgung Soo, Jang Deukmu, and Hwa Gayeon. Hwa Gayeon especially was dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.
Choking up, Hwa Gayeon whispered to her senior brother Jang Deukmu:
"I want to… protect Young Master Cheon."
Jang Deukmu patted her back and silently nodded.
Hearing Hwa Gayeon's quiet murmur, something surged up again in Dokgo Seol's chest.
Why should you be the one to do that?
Suppressing the inexplicable surge of resentment, she bowed to them and started walking away. Behind her, her father's voice followed.
"Young Master Cheon, we are about to set out first… I just came to ask if you had any final instructions."
Namgung Soo continued:
"I am Namgung Soo. Both I and the Flying Sword, as well as the Hawk Sword, wish to join this battle… May we enter?"
Hearing that, Dokgo Seol let out a faint laugh. Who would have thought that the prideful Namgung Soo—the Azure Dragon of the world's greatest sword clan—would speak so politely, so deferentially, to Cheon Ryu-yeong?
Leaving the corridor, Dokgo Seol lifted her head. She found herself staring at the blazing yellow sun racing westward across the sky.
Her eyes stung, and tears welled up.
They were tears from staring into the sun, she told herself. She repeated it like a mantra.
"Young Master Cheon, you don't have to force yourself to open the door of hope anymore. Because… you are my hope, and ours. So please, don't fall ill. When you hurt, it feels as if the whole world is collapsing."
Tonight, at the Tang Clan estate, a great battle would begin—one that would decide the fate of Sichuan's martial world and bring immense change to the balance of power. It would be a fight fierce and ever-shifting, where the slightest mistake could mean death.
But to Dokgo Seol, that dangerous battle had vanished from her mind.
Cheon Ryu-yeong.
Only the pain he had to endure, and the crushing weight on his shoulders, filled her chest with anguish.
Her world had changed without her realizing it. And now she was beginning to recognize it herself.
Just then, she saw Jo Jeonhu running toward her, and quickly wiped away her tears.
"So you were here."
"Did you need something from me?"
She deliberately spoke colder than usual, hiding any trace of sorrow from her voice.
Sensing the strange mood, Jo Jeonhu quickly shook his head. Experience had long taught him that, in moments like this, the wisest course was to retreat from her as fast as possible.
"No, I only meant… with Young Master Cheon…"
He didn't finish the sentence. Dokgo Seol suddenly flared up.
"Why does everyone rely on Young Master Cheon? Small matters could be handled on your own."
"Well, that is…"
"Until just recently, we handled everything ourselves. We're not children. If everyone runs to him at every little problem, how will his body endure? Our affairs should be handled by us—"
She bit her lip and stopped. She was venting on the wrong person. After all, she herself leaned on Cheon Ryu-yeong.
Jo Jeonhu blinked his large eyes at her, then scratched his head.
"But isn't Young Master Cheon our strategist? He belongs with us now, doesn't he?"
"I'm sorry. I'm just a little on edge before the battle."
When she bowed her head in apology, Jo Jeonhu's furrowed brow eased into a smile.
"Haha, that's understandable. It's fine. I know well enough your cold, proud, prickly nature."
"…"
"But I also know—better than most—that beneath it you're kind-hearted. So don't worry about it."
"…Am I really such a terrible person?"
"Not terrible, but… the world does say…"
Jo Jeonhu clapped a big hand over his mouth, realizing he'd slipped, then forced a sheepish grin.
"Not terrible, more… stubborn, maybe. Forget I said anything—it was just a joke."
"No. Tell me. Is that really how people see me? Are those the rumors going around?"
He tilted his head. Dokgo Seol wasn't usually someone who cared about gossip. But her eyes and expression now pleaded for him to say no.
Instinct told him to lie—that it was only a few baseless rumors. But Jo Jeonhu was too honest by nature.
"Yes."
"…."
"They say you're colder than an ice block, that you treat flirtatious men like bugs, that you can outdrink most men and even get a bit rowdy, that you refuse to lose to anyone and carry an arrogant streak—"
"Stop!"
Dokgo Seol raised a hand to cut him off, snapping in an indignant voice.
"What drinking habit?!"
Her tone was full of outrage. But Jo Jeonhu calmly replied:
"Fighting."
"When did I ever?"
"When drunk men pester you, you beat them soundly, didn't you?"
"That was because they ogled me with filthy eyes, throwing sleazy advances, so I—ah! Damn it. Fine. So that's the rumor about me?"
Her face paled. Surely Cheon Ryu-yeong had heard those ridiculous tales too.
The thought made her vision darken with dread. She was terrified of what he might think of her.
"That's why you got the nickname Pyeonwol, isn't it? But hey, there's some good talk too."
At Jo Jeonhu's offhand comment, Dokgo Seol felt as if she had spotted a ray of light in the darkness.
"What is it?"
"That you're obsessed with martial arts and love sword fights. Haha! For a martial artist, is there any higher praise?"
But Dokgo Seol felt the storm clouds roll back in. She groaned despairingly.
"Ahh! Would any ordinary person ever find that attractive?"
"…What?"
"No, forget it. Of course not."
Looking as if her world had collapsed, she staggered away. Jo Jeonhu watched her retreating figure, scratching his head.
"Maybe I should have told her the rumor about being the most beautiful of the Five Beauties of the Martial World?"
But he immediately shook his head. She loathed the nickname Cheonghwa, insisting stubbornly that people call her Sword Peak instead.
Still frowning in puzzlement, Jo Jeonhu entered the corridor.
"An ordinary person…?"
His eyes suddenly gleamed like a hawk's. He whipped his head back toward where she had disappeared.
Dokgo Seol was gone.
Staring after her, Jo Jeonhu muttered:
"Could it be… she's thinking of some ordinary man? That she has someone in her heart without me knowing?"
His deduction was correct. But his imagination could go no further. He never guessed that the man was Cheon Ryu-yeong.
Because to Jo Jeonhu, Cheon Ryu-yeong was anything but ordinary. In fact, among all the people he had ever met, Cheon Ryu-yeong was the most extraordinary.
His respect for him had already been immense, but after hearing the strategy for the Tang Clan battle, he had practically elevated Cheon Ryu-yeong to the level of a god.
"Hmm. An ordinary man, is it? Lord Dokgo would never allow her to court anyone…"
The daughter of a prestigious martial clan was, of course, expected to marry into a family of similar standing—a martial house of equal power, a great sect, or a noble family of high office.
For them, marriage was the most common means of securing strong allies and expanding their influence. Put bluntly, it was "like with like," and phrased more elegantly, it was birds of a feather flock together.
"Ah! This isn't the time to be thinking about such things."
Shouting loudly as he ran down the corridor, Jo Jeonhu called out:
"Young Master Cheon! A signal has come—everything is ready. We set out in half a shichen!"
His voice rang with energy.
Just as the demon cultists heading for the Tang Clan estate were confident of their victory, Jo Jeonhu was firmly convinced that in this battle, he, Cheon Ryu-yeong, and the others would inscribe a legendary tale.
The blazing sun that had scorched the world all day now sank into the western sky, painting it crimson as it slowly disappeared.
An hour earlier, Cheon Ryu-yeong's party had departed Sword Fragrance Field and was on the move toward the Tang Clan estate.
Six carriages, one wagon loaded with supplies, and a dozen or so riders thundered across the plain, raising clouds of dust.
Rattle, rattle.
The speed made the carriages jolt violently.
Dokgo Seol, staring at Cheon Ryu-yeong seated opposite her, bit her lip again and again.
At the sight of his complexion, growing ever paler, she wanted to cry out for them to slow down. But no one knew better than she that such a thing was impossible.
Feng Yun, sitting beside Cheon Ryu-yeong, opened his mouth with a worried expression.
"Brother. Are you truly all right? You haven't recovered yet, have you?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong forced a bitter smile.
"I can endure it. Don't worry."
"Your complexion is far too poor. Should we ask Lord Yakcha Sword to slow the pace a little?"
"There are countless people waiting only for us. This isn't the time to make excuses about discomfort."
"But still—"
Just then, Jo Jeonhu shouted "Whoa, whoa!" and brought the carriage to a halt. Outside, the riders too had stopped, tension etched across their faces.
Dokgo Seol pushed open the carriage door.
"Why have we stopped?"
Everyone was stiff and silent. Beside the carriage, Namgung Soo raised his hand, pointing ahead with a grim look.
Figures were rushing toward them, employing lightness skill—seventy, perhaps eighty in number.
Jo Jeonhu leapt up from the driver's seat and shouted:
"Everyone, prepare for battle!"
"Everyone" was not many. What's more, those in the other carriages were opera performers, not fighters. Barely a dozen or so here were actually capable of combat.
Dokgo Seol swallowed hard and glanced back. Feng Yun was there. She spoke.
"No matter what happens, you must protect Young Master Cheon."
Feng Yun scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"Wouldn't it be better if I fought, and Sister Seol guarded him? That might lessen the risk."
Dokgo Seol let out a small laugh.
"I thought you hated fighting?"
"Well, we can't exactly avoid it this time, can we?"
"True. If you step forward, that's reassuring. I'll trust you."
Feng Yun stepped out of the carriage. At that moment, Jo Jeonhu, who had been straining his eyes toward the front, suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! They're Tang Clan warriors. You can relax."
Indeed, the approaching group was none other than Tang Tianwei, young master of the Tang Clan, and his party.
Relief spread across everyone's faces as they eased their stances. But Cheon Ryu-yeong frowned and jumped down from the carriage.
"Why would Tang Clan warriors be coming here?"
Jo Jeonhu tilted his head.
"Eh? Now that you mention it… why are they coming here?"
While everyone looked confused, Namgung Soo spoke.
"Could it be… the carrier pigeon we sent was intercepted by the demon cultists? Otherwise, there is no reason for this many Tang Clan warriors to be here."
At his words, Jo Jeonhu's face went pale.
"Heavens! If that's true, then what now?"
All eyes turned to Cheon Ryu-yeong. He bit his lip, gazed ahead, and let out a sigh.
"As expected of the Celestial Demon Sword… flawless. Even when he should be confident of victory, he still seizes the carrier pigeons mid-flight. He must have ordered the capture after eliminating the Invisible Venom. Truly, layer upon layer of thoroughness."
At his lament, everyone's expressions hardened. Whether or not they had seen the Celestial Demon Sword in person, all instinctively felt fear of him.
How could they not?
Hadn't the Sichuan branch of the Martial Alliance been seized from under their noses? Hadn't even the Qingcheng Sect and the Tang Clan themselves fallen prey to his schemes, helpless to resist?
Hwa Gayeon spoke up in an anxious voice.
"Scholar of the Martial World… does this mean the enemy may have uncovered our plan?"
Her senior brother, Jang Deukmu, shook his head and answered in her stead.
"It was written in cipher. They won't have had time to decode it."
Hwa Gayeon pressed a hand to her chest in relief.
"Ah, that's a comfort, at least."
"But if our strategy hasn't reached the Tang Clan, things grow complicated. It seems they've resolved to fight to the death and smuggled people out to preserve the sect's future…"
Namgung Soo nodded.
"Then we must hurry. Elder Doksu must believe there is no hope. If so, Scholar of the Martial World's stratagem may wither before it can even bloom. And with those Tang Clan warriors absent from the six hundred, the situation is all the more perilous."
Dokgo Seol, stepping out of the carriage, added:
"He's right. And if the Wolf King who set out earlier misreads the situation, that could lead to disaster."
Those who had left Sword Fragrance Field ahead of them had not gone to the Tang Clan estate. They could not deliver Cheon Ryu-yeong's strategy there.
Everyone looked to Cheon Ryu-yeong, faces showing agreement with Namgung Soo and Dokgo Seol. At last, after deep thought, he spoke.
"This is indeed an unforeseen variable."
Jo Jeonhu climbed down from the driver's seat and approached him.
"What should we do?"
"As Namgung Gongja said—we must hurry."
"And if the situation ends before we arrive?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong shrugged.
"It won't."
Jo Jeonhu frowned.
"What makes you so certain?"
"The pride of Elder Doksu and the Tang Clan. Their consideration for those they've smuggled out."
"Hm?"
"They won't launch a reckless frontal assault only to collapse at once. They'll do everything to wound the enemy, even if only a little. Even if the Tang Clan falls, they'll want it remembered that they fought fiercely—to give the survivors even a sliver of hope for the future."
Everyone nodded; it made sense. Cheon Ryu-yeong scratched near his ear as he continued.
"That much we can trust. Now, we must focus on two things. First, to reach the Tang Clan as swiftly as possible."
Namgung Soo's eyes glinted.
"And the second?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong smiled faintly, raising his hand to point at the Tang Clan warriors drawing nearer.
"To turn this unforeseen variable to our advantage."
"…?"
"The Celestial Demon Sword's meticulousness will only tighten the noose around their own necks. Those people coming toward us will be a great gift."
"…."
"Thanks to that gift, we can win not just a great victory—but a complete one."
Jang Deukmu asked with a bewildered look.
"With only seventy-odd men, how could that be possible?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong nodded.
"On the battlefield, morale is everything. Even if the demon cultists see the final spark of hope about to rise, these people will be the water poured over it."