Mark – Seal – Inscription
"What was that mark, exactly?"
Jimin asked, recalling the black dot left on Peng Qi's throat.
The faint scent of ink still lingered in the room.
"It is like a tattoo. I applied force as if pricking with a fine needle so the ink would seep in. It will not fade, no matter how much he tries to erase it. A souvenir of meeting me. Since he seemed to want something to commemorate the encounter, that should suffice."
Soun answered calmly, standing by the window.
The breeze brushed past, stirring the hem of his robe.
"You once said the martial world was a realm of chivalry (俠). I do not see it that way. It is not quite dominion (覇), either. I hesitate to name it. Madness (狂) fits better. The jianghu is a land of madmen."
Jimin frowned.
"You are not serious, are you?"
"I am. That was a brand. A pledge, in a sense—that after being marked by a scholar, he will cease his brutality. Had he not stopped there, he would have lost his life."
Jimin could not respond at once.
When she recalled the moment, a chill crept up the back of her neck.
"That is quite an interpretation. But how did you do it? The Head of the Peng Family could not even draw his sword."
Soun gave a slight shrug.
"As he moved to draw, I took up the brush, dipped it in ink, and placed it at his throat. Nothing remarkable. I was simply faster. It was no elaborate stratagem. Only a little faster."
His explanation was absurdly simple.
As though he were describing the turning of a page.
As though it were some trivial matter.
Only then did Jimin truly understand what he had meant by I will handle it.
The explanation was simple.
Whether the act itself was simple was another matter.
The blade art of the Peng Family was renowned as a supreme technique.
No one in the jianghu could afford to dismiss them lightly.
The fact that the head of that family had not even managed to draw his sword struck Jimin's heart belatedly, like a slow echo.