With a sense of disbelief, Hong Geolgae scrutinized Yaryul Dalum once more, ensuring he hadn’t misjudged. Her eyes were closed, and her face bore the marks of hardship. Yet, the large, striking features and the unusually robust frame for a woman remained unchanged. It was pitiful to see her reduced to skin and bones.
Hong Geolgae almost sighed but stopped himself, worried that the sound might reach Yaryul Dalum’s ears.
It had been about two years since he last saw Yaryul Dalum and killed Muryangja. Yet, she seemed to have aged a decade. Her emaciation and the hardships she endured had taken their toll.
‘How did it come to this?’ he wondered.
According to Myosun, Yaryul Dalum had sided with a group of rogue martial artists attempting to overthrow the Gongdong Sect, only to be subdued. But Hong Geolgae couldn’t shake his doubts.
‘Yaryul Dalum, of all people?’
The Yaryul Dalum he remembered was not someone who would be easily subdued. She was a warrior with a vision, her eyes gleaming as she raced across the harsh northern lands, promising a new future for the rogue martial artists.
Among everyone Hong Geolgae knew, Yaryul Dalum was the one who truly embodied the spirit of the Gongdong Sect, even more so than Muryangja, the former leader. Even if all the martial artists of Hwangolgak abandoned their training to return to civilian life, Yaryul Dalum would not have.
Thus, Hong Geolgae shifted his thoughts to the worst-case scenario, the only possibility he could conceive.
Could it be that the rogue martial artists had truly seized control of the Gongdong Sect? And the people of Pyeongnyang-hyeon were unaware?
He hesitated to send a message to Yaryul Dalum, fearing that the actions of Tang Mujin’s group might have contributed to her current state.
He hadn’t killed Muryangja out of desire, nor had he intended to burn down Hwangolgak. In the battle against Muryangja, he played a minor role, merely deflecting a few sword strikes amidst his friends.
But one thing was certain: if Tang Mujin’s group hadn’t wandered the north, this situation wouldn’t have arisen. And it was Hong Geolgae who had led them there.
He feared that reaching out to Yaryul Dalum might result in hearing words of resentment. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to pretend I know nothing? There’s no need to tell my friends.’
If he let it pass, he could move on as if nothing had happened. Even if his friends saw Yaryul Dalum, he could claim her face was too damaged to recognize. There would be no suspicion.
Yet, Hong Geolgae took a deep breath and bit his lower lip. ‘No, I’m already involved. I can’t back down now.’
He sent a message to Yaryul Dalum.
Yaryul Dalum stirred at the message, not merely surprised by the communication. She clearly remembered Hong Geolgae.
She tried to prop herself up on her elbows. Unlike the other men, her tendons had been severed at the wrists and ankles, allowing minimal movement. But she lacked the strength to fully rise.
Abandoning the effort to move, she attempted to speak with her severed tongue.
“Uh, uh, uh.”
Myosun was startled by her reaction. “What’s happening all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know,” Hong Geolgae replied evasively, then sent another message.
Yaryul Dalum nodded with all her might, tears streaming from her wounded eyes, as if her previous stillness had been a lie. She was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.
Hong Geolgae was afraid. He couldn’t predict what Yaryul Dalum wanted to say. It was unlikely she wished to share information willingly needed by Tang Mujin’s group. Behind her closed eyelids, flames of resentment surely burned. He dreaded the curses and reproaches he might hear.
But the conversation had already begun. Suppressing his quickened breath, Hong Geolgae sent another message.
Hong Geolgae left the hut with Myosun, who remained clueless about the situation.
That night, Tang Mujin’s group entered the hut.
The person lying furthest inside is Yaryul Dalum, right?
Yes.
Without a sound, the three of them extracted Yaryul Dalum and carried her on their backs to the forge. Contrary to Hong Geolgae’s expectations, Yaryul Dalum was very compliant.
Before bringing her into the forge’s inner room, Tang Mujin heated some water to clean Yaryul Dalum’s body. He knew it was awkward for a man to wash a woman’s body, but he doubted Yaryul Dalum would want to converse while covered in filth.
Fortunately, Yaryul Dalum seemed to appreciate the gesture, appearing more at ease with Tang Mujin’s care.
After washing her, Tang Mujin prepared porridge for Yaryul Dalum instead of immediately questioning her.
As Tang Mujin helped Yaryul Dalum eat, Hong Geolgae asked, “Can you heal her?”
“I can help her regain some strength, but restoring her sight, speech, or limb function is beyond my abilities.”
Tang Mujin sighed deeply. Just looking at Yaryul Dalum stirred complex emotions within him. How could he describe this feeling? It was closer to regret than guilt.
He hadn’t killed Muryangja to destroy Yaryul Dalum or the Gongdong Sect. Muryangja had initiated the conflict, and it was Muryangja who harbored a grudge against Yu Gwanil, Yu Jinkwang’s father.
While he felt regret, there was no reason for guilt.
Then, Yaryul Dalum made a faint sound after finishing her porridge.
“Uh.”
“It seems she wants to say something.”
“Wait a moment. Yaryul Dalum, you can write, can’t you?”
Yaryul Dalum nodded. Tang Mujin tied a brush dipped in water to her wrist.
With slow, deliberate movements, Yaryul Dalum wrote on the floor.
Despite her dire state, her handwriting was strong, as if her voice resonated through the strokes.
Tang Mujin replied, “We came to investigate because it seemed something was amiss with the Gongdong Sect.”
A gentle smile appeared on Yaryul Dalum’s lips, the same smile as before, the expression of a strong woman.
Had she expressed resentment, Tang Mujin might have defended himself. But even in the face of such composure, he couldn’t remain silent.
Unable to hold back, Tang Mujin apologized to Yaryul Dalum.
”…I’m sorry. This wasn’t the outcome we intended when we ventured north.”
Yaryul Dalum responded with firm writing.
Why apologize?
Muryangja initiated the fight and lost. That was Muryangja’s fault.
Hwangolgak failed to control its martial artists and burned. That was Hwangolgak’s fault.
The Gongdong Sect was unprepared for disaster after losing its leader. That was the fault of the entire Gongdong Sect.
You were merely caught in the tide.
“But…”
Her dignified demeanor made it even harder to breathe. The suffering had only taken Yaryul Dalum’s body, not her spirit. A small grudge would have been easier to bear.
“I want to understand what happened to the Gongdong Sect.”
“No. We had a conflict with Muryangja, but we never opposed the Gongdong Sect. I hope the Gongdong Sect doesn’t fall into the hands of rogues. I wish for it to continue guiding rogue martial artists.”
Yaryul Dalum seemed pleased with the answer, her sunken cheeks forming a smile.
“All of them?”
The writing became difficult to read due to the volume. Before Yaryul Dalum could write more, Hyun Gong quickly wiped the floor with a cloth.
Yaryul Dalum concluded her story.
Tang Mujin recalled the day they left the north for the south. Under a starry sky, by a campfire, Yu Jinkwang had shared a story. He spoke of how, over time, all sects would become similar.
Yu Jinkwang had claimed it was just a tale for amusement, but Tang Mujin didn’t think it was mere idle talk.
And now, the Gongdong Sect stands at a crossroads.
The future of the Gongdong Sect boils down to two possibilities: either they drive out the Sapa warriors, or they are completely consumed by them.
Even if things go well, the sect will never be the same as it once was. Memories linger as long as people live, and time never moves backward.
“Understood. Please bear with the inconvenience and stay here for the time being.”
—Send me back to the hut. If you have any questions, feel free to come and ask.
Though the words were written with a calm hand, Tang Mujin could see through the lines, sensing Yaryul Dalum’s true feelings. He didn’t want to return to the hut.
It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.
Who in their right mind would want to return to a hut filled with stench and despair, waiting for death?
Tang Mujin quietly observed Yaryul Dalum.
His body was a wreck, anyone could see that. Walking again seemed out of the question. If he was lucky, he might manage to lift a spoon with one arm.
His tongue would never grow back. But perhaps, with some luck, his eyesight might improve. Not that he would ever see clearly—more like peering through a fog thicker than that of an old man with severe cataracts.
Yet, a healer must always instill hope in their patients.
As far as Tang Mujin knew, that was the first step in healing.
So, with conviction, Tang Mujin spoke.
“You won’t be going back to the hut. Stay at the forge for now, and then let’s return to the Gongdong Sect.”
Yaryul Dalum looked surprised at Tang Mujin’s words.
Then, a satisfied smile spread across his face. It was exactly what he had longed to hear.