After Receiving the Letter
One day, Jimin took out a letter.
"What is that?"
Near dusk, So-un—who had been spreading out large sheets of paper and idly writing—glanced at the sealed envelope in her hand.
Lately he spent long hours in his room each day, writing and sketching.
The envelope caught his eye simply because it was different from the usual objects in the room.
The room was thick with the scent of ink, no longer resembling an inn chamber but the study of a scholar.
Through the open window drifted the cool air of evening, mingling with the lingering heat of the afternoon.
The fragrance seemed even stronger because the air did not pass straight through.
The quiet scent of evening, the distant murmur of the marketplace, and the deep aroma of ink blended together.
So-un did not press her for an answer.
Without looking at Jimin, he gazed leisurely out at the scenery.
After a moment, Jimin carefully extended the letter.
"It is a letter. It has come for you from the Jin family estate in Henan."
"How did they know I was here? People can be remarkably resourceful."
"You left word that you were heading toward Tianshan. It was forwarded through the local branch here. You are still formally affiliated with Tianshan."
Whether he truly listened was unclear. He did not even turn his head.
He continued writing, uninterested in the tangled connections between sects and affiliations.
"You read it, Sister."
"Me? It's addressed to you."
"There can't be anything extraordinary in it. Please read."
The letter from the Jin estate had come through Tianshan's communication channels.
They clearly knew that Jimin was with So-un.
Jimin was more interested in the route than the content.
She examined the envelope first.
There were no unusual markings.
It had passed through Tianshan's branch within the imperial capital, yet the tone was not Tianshan's at all.
Tianshan had merely acted as courier.
Jin Musik must have requested assistance from a Tianshan member still staying at the estate.
After reading it, Jimin let out a quiet laugh, imagining the flustered expression of Estate Lord Jin Musik.
The letter was respectful in form, but its urgency was unmistakable.
"What's so amusing?"
"Martial artists are flocking to the Jin estate, asking for you. They are begging you to come and help. The tone is so earnest I could almost cry reading it. And it mentions three separate times that your aunt misses you dearly. Ho ho."
At the word aunt, So-un turned toward her.
"Martial artists? Why are they looking for me?"
"Did you truly not know? Word of your martial prowess has already spread. Huagyeong. A level like yours exists only in legend. Of course they would be curious."
"I see… Even so, I do not understand. Why me?"
When So-un questioned what seemed self-evident, Jimin felt momentarily unsettled.
What appears obvious is not always the truth.
People mistake familiarity for righteousness.
At first, she had assumed So-un was simply naïve about the ways of the world.
Yet that was not always the case.
Once something was explained, he grasped it with exceptional clarity.
She did not realize that he was not merely accepting explanations, but reconstructing them within himself.
Jimin almost spoke the word Huagyeong aloud and then stopped.
Uttering it felt as though it might reveal her own hidden desire.
"There was always a possibility the rumors would spread."
"Because of what? Because I killed a weak emperor? That was highly confidential. No one knows. Only you do."
So-un was frustratingly straightforward.
He truly believed no one knew.
Yet from the surrounding circumstances alone, the members of the Jin estate could easily infer that he was responsible.
"Several battles, and the inscription 'The First Under Heaven' carved in stone. Anyone with deeper study would not regard your level as ordinary."
Jimin concealed the fact that rumors of a Huagyeong master appearing in the martial world were spreading rapidly.
In truth, they were spreading farther and faster than he imagined.
For many years, masters who reached Huagyeong had been exceedingly rare.
Perhaps one would appear in an entire generation.
Thus, Huagyeong masters rarely fought each other.
Combat usually occurred between those of similar level.
Few dared confront someone who had surpassed them entirely.
"Even so, why does that become a reason to trouble the Jin estate?"
"They go there demanding to meet you."
"And why? What would they do if they met me?"
So-un knew little of such matters.
Though he possessed immense power, he was ignorant of the martial world's customs.
In that regard, he was less experienced than a novice just stepping into the Jianghu.
He asked because he did not know, and each question required explanation.
Jimin found it exasperating.
He had survived tremendous battles and defeated barbarians on the great plains of Haran.
Yet in the ways of the Jianghu, he remained inexperienced.
"It feels foolish explaining this to you. They don't want to befriend you. They want to test you. 'So you're a Huagyeong master? Let's see. Perhaps I can defeat you.' That kind of thinking. Or, if you truly are at that level, perhaps they can gain a lesson from you. Perhaps you possess a secret manual they might obtain. That sort of interest. It is not pure curiosity. Martial artists are obsessively attached to their craft. The moment they hear of someone stronger, they seek them out to challenge them. When word spreads that your prowess might have reached Huagyeong, they rush forward like this. Someone has reached the height they themselves desire. Envy follows. So does the desire to learn. These are people who have devoted their entire lives to martial study. They do not accept another's superiority easily."
Tell Them All to Come
So-un set down the brush he had been using and gave a small nod.
After hearing her explanation, it sounded plausible enough.
He understood it, yet he could not fully accept it.
Even so, storming the Jin estate and causing a scene was behavior beyond common sense.
To gather at a place with no direct connection and stage a protest, as though a debt were owed—
by So-un's standards, it was difficult to justify.
To him, it made people seem petty, cowardly, and lacking in judgment.
Without knowledge of the ways of the Jianghu, he found it even harder to comprehend.
"We should teach them a lesson. Hmm, but what to do? I cannot go myself…"
He fell silent for a moment, then turned to Jimin.
"If we simply tell them I am here, that should suffice. Inform them that I am staying at Cheonhwa Inn in the imperial capital. Ha, such a simple solution—why all the worry? Once they know, won't they leave the Jin estate?"
Jimin shook her head.
"There is a complication. Some elder called White Crane—or perhaps Yellow Crane—has arrived. Well-known masters of the martial world are gathering. Each one is formidable."
"Formidable? Then invite him as well."
"He is one of the Ten Great Masters."
"The Ten Great Masters?
So there are ten exceptionally skilled individuals?
To be called a master in any field is impressive enough.
But why seek me out?
What business could they possibly have with me?"
A faint trace of mockery colored So-un's tone.
"This is unbelievable… how can you be so ignorant?
Each of them stands like a sky unto themselves.
They are the highest peak of their respective sects.
People like us can scarcely even stand before them."
Jimin felt exasperated.
Her explanation had been clear, yet he treated it lightly.
"Very well, Sister.
Then invite them all.
Tell them to come here instead of troubling General Jin's household.
Give them the name of this inn.
And tell them I share a room with you, Sister Jimin. Heh."
"You foolish man.
If you face one of the Ten Great Masters, your life cannot be guaranteed.
The title is not ornamental.
It means the ten strongest individuals in the current Jianghu."
So-un remained untroubled.
He had negotiated with mountain bandits and river pirates alike.
What difference could martial vagabonds make?
"When did I say I would fight?
As you often advise, I will speak humbly and persuade them to return.
You know me well—Beggar So-un.
I have sent back dozens of bandits through patience and persuasion.
One listens, endures, persuades again, and finds common ground.
If I speak well enough, it will suffice."
Jimin's expression hardened.
"And if it does not? If it comes to a fight?"
"Then I will discipline them."
"The Ten Great Masters?"
"What of it? They breathe and eat as we do. What difference is there? Do not worry. I will handle it. Though if you continue sharing a room with me, it may affect your future marriage prospects. Perhaps separate rooms would be wiser."
It was impossible to tell whether he was reckless or supremely confident.
He truly believed his modest persuasion would sway the martial world.
Since he insisted, there was little else to be done.
As she prepared to write the reply, Jimin asked once more,
"You truly wish me to inform them to come here? I will send word to the Jin estate."
"Do so."
"This letter arrived through Tianshan and took time. But if sent by carrier pigeon, word will spread quickly. Within days, they—or their followers—will arrive. Do not blame me later. It may become troublesome."
"Is that so? Then send it quickly. We cannot allow them to trouble the Jin estate. General Jin is a hero who saved the nation. Do not worry, Sister Jimin."
So-un dismissed the matter lightly and lifted his brush again.
He ground fresh ink and began to paint an orchid.
Writing alone did not seem to hold his interest for long.
The room was steeped in the scent of ink.
The evening breeze brushed through the window, stirring the fragrance and softening it.
It felt less like an inn and more like a scholar's study from years past.
Each day, for one hour, he devoted himself to brush and paper.
In that time, he seemed withdrawn from all watchful eyes.
Perhaps he clung to this ritual because he knew he could never return to the world of quiet study he once knew.
The tip of his brush flowed across the page, and tender orchid leaves emerged one by one.
The lines were restrained yet steady, filled with quiet vitality.
His calligraphy bore the same quality.
He wrote poems in neat strokes and copied passages from the classics.
When words faltered, he filled the margins with small sketches.
On ink-soaked paper, writing and image breathed together.
The finished piece was elegant and refined.
Not excessive, yet deep.
Quiet, yet lingering in the eye.
It was beautiful enough to wish to keep, lovely enough to hold and gaze upon.
He continued painting in silence, and in the room thick with ink, a tranquil stretch of time gathered around him.
"Truly, I am worried," Jimin said softly.
She stepped closer, concern plain on her face.
"Sister, do not worry. When you faced ten men of the Great Blade, I did not worry in the least. You yourself said the cases were alike. This is no different. Even if a hundred come, it is the same."
Jimin's brow twitched.
The comparison between street ruffians and the Ten Great Masters did not fit.
"The Jianghu is dangerous.
It is filled with schemes and hidden stratagems.
It is not so simple."
"That may be so.
But I cannot leave them to harass the Jin estate.
Better to gather them all and settle matters at once.
They are not even ruffians, yet they behave without sense, causing unrest in a place that has nothing to do with them.
The estate lord would not have written otherwise."