Chương 6: A New Oath

Five years passed in a blur of study and reflection. At fifteen, Chae-ha sat working at her station on the third floor of the Archives. She wore scholar's robes, light green silks with emerald trim, which were long enough for the hem to brush the ground as she walked. Her petite, feminine frame seemed to almost disappear into the billowy sleeves and cascading folds of the outfit. Her hair was down now, the familiar Daenggi-meori braid draping down her back.

Just above the plaited strands, her silver phoenix hairpin secured a small, elegant loop of hair. The young girl's workbench was topped with a thick oak slab, worn smooth by decades of use. Arranged on the surface were a variety of the sect's internal ledgers, thick volumes meant for tracking grain rations, finances, and personnel deployments. As a civilian clerk, her job was to ensure the sect's accounting was flawless and its history was bound tight.

She adjusted the bronze mirror on the desk to better reflect the candlelight. With her right hand, Chae-ha picked up a five-inch bookbinding needle. It was a utilitarian tool, forged from steel. The tip had been ground into a fine, triangular point, with three cutting edges designed to easily pierce thick leather. After passing some waxed linen thread through the eye of the needle, she positioned the sharpened tip over a stiff buffalo-hide cover.

Chae-ha didn't use strength to pierce the material – she didn't have any. Instead, with a practiced flick of her wrist, she aligned the needle's facets with the natural grain of the leather. Thwick. The needle sailed to the other side effortlessly, pulling the linen strip along with it. The young girl repeated this process several times before finally securing the cover with a tight, professional kettle stitch.

To hold the fresh binding in place as she moved on to mark the spine, Chae-ha reached for a heavy, iron-bound tome to hold it down. The work she chose was titled The Taxonomy of Vital Pathways. It was one of a litany of texts she had devoured in a desperate attempt to "fix herself," an obsession that had eventually petered out and died, replaced with grudging acceptance. Now, the volume's technical diagrams of human anatomy served a more mundane purpose: acting as a paper weight.

A set of ponderous, familiar footfalls vibrated through the floorboards. Chae-ha didn't need to look up to figure out who had come to visit. It could only be one person.

"Working late again, little sister?" Mu-cheon stepped into the circle of her candlelight. Five years had turned the athletic boy into a towering man, with rough stubble encroaching on his chin. He effortlessly carried an iron greatsword, a Dae-jik-do, in the holster on his back.

"The grain expenditure for the Training Hall is over-budget, senior brother," she said, her voice deliberately detached.

"If the intake of new disciples isn't reduced, we'll be out of barley before the first thaw."

"I didn't come here to discuss the grain expenditure, Chae-ha."

"Then why did you come here, Mu-cheon?" she asked, her hands growing still. The young girl tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She didn't blame him for what happened, but these days Chae-ha had learned to find solace in silence. She would rather be left alone than reminded of what she'd lost. The Inner Disciple gestured towards a nearby door, which led out to one of the Archive's few balconies.

"I thought my little sister might want to take a break and enjoy the beauty of the night sky with me. For old time's sake." Chae-ha couldn't help herself. A smile, small but genuine, crept onto her face. Those midnight training sessions with Mu-cheon were happy memories she had come to treasure.

"Let me finish this up, and I'll come join you on the balcony. It shouldn't even take a ke." As Chae-ha stepped onto the spacious balcony, Mu-cheon was already waiting for her, his eyes turned towards the stars. The young man had propped one of the thick cedar doors open to make her egress easier. The night seemed vast and silent, much like the nights five years ago when they had stolen away from the dormitories to train together. Clank.

A soft, distant sound echoed in the night – probably a watchman of the Iron Vigil tromping along in the valley below. As she approached, Mu-cheon turned his head and smiled. With the back of his hand, he nudged a small bundle sitting on the stone balustrade towards her. Chae-ha stopped in sudden fear, surprised by her own reaction. It was a Bojagi. The silk wrapping cloth was dark in the moonlight, tied in an intricate knot that looked vaguely like a flower.

For a terrifying heartbeat, she wasn't on the balcony of the Archives anymore. She was ten years old again, staring at her dresser while yellow-clad men tallied up her family's belongings in the courtyard below.

"Chae-ha?" Mu-cheon asked, his forehead creased with concern.

"It's only a snack. I thought... well, I remembered you said…" Chae-ha pushed through and forced herself to untie the knot. A part of her expected to find a hairpin inside. Instead, the silk fell away to reveal a simple wooden box. The scents of perilla oil and toasted seeds drifted up from it, earthy and inviting.

"Acorn jelly," she whispered appreciatively, her shoulders slumping in relief.

"You went to Tai'an for this?" Mu-cheon nodded.

"Do you like it?" Chae-ha opened the box and grabbed the small wooden pick, her eyes fixated on the glistening jelly. A small bead of drool collected in the corner of her mouth but was quickly licked away.

"More than I can say. Thank you, senior brother," she said, beginning to eat. Clank. Clank. The watchmen in the valley below must be passing by again. The young man waited for her to finish eating before delivering his news.

"The Meng-shan sect didn't just take timber woods this time, Chae-ha. They took one of the iron mines southeast of Laiwu. Our troops watched from the ridgeline as they raised their banners. The Sect Leader's orders were clear: 'do not engage.'" You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"To avoid a war?"

"To avoid a defeat." Mu-cheon almost spat the words out.

"The Sect Leader didn't believe we could win."

"The loss of that mine will be painful. The sect's finances are already stressed. Three of our wealthier vassal families already failed to make tribute this month –""That's something else I wanted to talk to you about. In addition to the Meng-shan taking our territory, I think someone may be targeting our vassal families." Chae-ha's blood ran cold.

"I've had that thought, as well. It can't be a coincidence that so many of them are struggling financially. Someone is driving our vassal families into debt, in order to try and deplete our funds." Mu-cheon nodded.

"Given what happened to your family, I think it's probably the Black Ink Consortium." Chae-ha clutched the empty box to her chest.

"Do you think they're also the ones funding the expansion of the Meng-shan?"

"I've been suspicious that might be the case, but I have no proof. I've only recently started really looking into them…" The conversation faltered as the noise beneath the balcony grew louder. Clank. Clank. Thud. Clank. The sound echoed eerily in the night. After a few moments of puzzled silence, Mu-cheon suddenly realized what was happening.

He grabbed Chae-ha by the shoulders and pushed her forcefully through the open door, sending her sprawling back inside right as a gauntleted hand slammed down on the balcony railing. The assassin flipped himself up and over the stone wall, his body tracing a graceful arc through the air. The man landed into a deep crouch, coiling up like a predatory feline preparing to spring. The intruder's uniform was tight-fitting and pitch black; his face was almost completely covered by a dark shroud.

Spiked steel gauntlets covered his hands, and small blades protruded from his footwraps – presumably the mechanisms which had allowed him to climb the pagoda. The man retrieved a curved dagger from within the folds of his uniform and launched himself towards his target: the Young Master of the Tai-shan. Mu-cheon drew the ponderous Dae-jik-do from his back and swiveled away, trying to create distance, but it was impossible to keep the assassin at bay.

The man was too fast, the balcony too small, and the Inner Disciple only barely managed to parry his initial thrust. The intruder's blade stopped less than a finger's width away from his target's throat. The young man used pure muscle to shove the assassin backwards through their connected weapons, but his opponent simply rebounded, giving him no room to breathe. The man was clearly an expert, and Mu-cheon was barely holding him off. Chae-ha scrambled back to her feet as she tried to process the unfolding scene.

The young girl realized with shock that she was about to watch her friend die. Almost without thinking, she ripped the silver hairpin out of her hair and rushed forward, intent on jamming the sharp tip into the assassin's femoral artery. At first, he didn't seem to notice her approach. A distant part of her mind realized that the assassin was probably relying on Ki-sense to detect nearby threats, while she had none for him to detect.

It wasn't until she passed fully through the cypress door and onto the balcony that the intruder finally spotted her out of the corner of his eye. The assassin darted away from Mu-cheon, apparently intent on getting her out of the way before finishing off his prey. The man's dagger whistled through the air as he launched himself forwards, a jet-black blur with a steel fang that was aiming to bisect her. Chae-ha flinched and dodged instinctively to the side, turning to face him as she did.

The movement shifted her center of mass, making it hard to identify where her thin form actually was inside her voluminous robes. The assassin misjudged the position of her anatomy, his slice passing harmlessly through part of her outer robes and her sleeve. The man landed beside her in his signature crouch, facing away from Mu-cheon, his right arm dragged out of position by the momentum of the missed strike.

With a skill built from years of binding books, Chae-ha flicked her wrist and sent the point of the hairpin straight towards the vital artery in the man's leg. But the assassin was not so easily defeated. He twisted his body around and blocked the strike violently with his steel gauntlet. The hairpin bent sharply and then abruptly fractured, the force ripping the trinket out of her hands.

She watched it fall onto the ground in slow-motion, where the soft, impure silver – never meant for the stress of combat – shattered against the stone. But the assassin was now off balance; the man's body was twisted, and his posture was compromised. With his weight now committed to a single foot, he was rooted in place, if only for a moment. The night lit up with silvery light as Mu-cheon finished breathing Ki into his sword.

A thin shimmer arose on the flats of the blade, where sundering Ki collected to prevent the reinforced weapon from binding." Gye-san-byeok," he roared.

"Mountain-Rending Cleave!" As his sword came down, Mu-cheon expelled stored pressure from his arms and shoulders to further accelerate the swing. The impact when the sword met its target split the night; an explosion of bone, blood, fabric, and stone dust arched outwards. The diagonal slash had sundered the air, the man, part of the balcony, and the night itself in a single, flawless motion. Blood sprayed from each half of the intruder as he split in two.

As the man fell, Mu-cheon rushed over in a panic to check on Chae-ha.

"Little sister! Please tell me you're okay…" The young girl looked down at the scattered remnants of her silver hairpin, a sight that once might have broken her. The destruction was absolute; the die-pressed Phoenix had been thoroughly returned to ash. As she stared at it, an unexpected, long-forgotten emotion began to swell within her. Hope. Lightning coursed through her brain as understanding bloomed. Chae-ha's lips parted slightly in silent awe. Her left eye twitched once.

"Mu-cheon. Do you understand what just happened?" The young man looked completely bewildered.

"An assassin tried to kill me. And you saved my lif–""Who cares about that?!" she interrupted him, her excitement growing with every word.

"Mu-cheon," she whispered.

"I did it. I pinned the wings of the fly."

"What are you talking abou–" She interrupted him again, her eyes wide with dawning realization." Cham-jeom-sul isn't a flawed martial art, senior brother. It's just… incomplete!" Chae-ha dashed back inside the Archives. She looked around at her surroundings, only to find that the entire world seemed to have changed. A new perspective formed within her as all the pieces began to click into place, one by one. The dusty Archives weren't a prison; they were a training ground.

Her scholar's robes weren't a shameful mark of failure; they were battle armor.

Her slight frame wasn't some curse that held her back; it was a quirk that allowed her to hide in plain sight. Her total lack of Ki wasn't a death sentence; it was her path to becoming invisible. Don't try to be something you're not. You need to fight with what you have, Mu-cheon had told her, all those years ago. Her gaze flittered across her workstation and alighted upon the long, five-inch bookbinding needle she'd left there earlier.

She picked it up and examined it closely, marveling anew at the sturdy steel construction, and the perfectly ground triangular tip. With her changed perspective, she no longer saw a useful tool. She saw a weapon. Her eyes still wide with amazement, she turned to stare at the bronze mirror on the workstation. Traditionally, the day of her fifteenth spring would have been when she stood before her mother and had her hair pinned, announcing her passage into adulthood.

But here at the sect, the day had passed with little fanfare. She looked again at the five-inch steel needle in her hand. It wasn't silver, and it wasn't a gift. But it suited her. As if in a trance, Chae-ha coiled up her Daenggi-meori braid into a tight top-knot. The young girl closed her eyes, completed the ritual prayer to her ancestors, and swore a new oath. Now lacking a hairpin, she took the long, steel needle and slid it through, pinning the style into place.

"It's not over. Why did I ever think it was? I can still pay my debts. I will pay my debts," she whispered.

"All of them."