The Flight of the Lone Crane and the Midnight Hearth

It was only after a considerable long while that Hwangeon finally left the quarters. Yet, the more I experienced it, the more I realized that living as a snake was extraordinarily convenient. I might be repeating the tales I heard from that snake catcher far too often, but there was another particular story he had shared with me once:

“A fellow I know once steeped a live serpent in high-proof medicinal liquor, sealing the earthenware crock away to age for several years. Yet, the very moment he unsealed the lid to sneak a drink, the damn snake leaped straight out at his face!”

When I asked him how such a preposterous thing was even possible, he explained that snakes possess an innate ability to survive without suffocating in such hostile environments. He claimed that when external conditions turn dire, they can drastically reduce their metabolic activity to a near-absolute standstill. Even as I listened back then, I had chalked it up to wild exaggeration.

But now, having actually resided inside Gwangyeon’s body, I realized the man might have been telling the absolute truth. If someone told me I had to stay hidden in there indefinitely, I felt I could actually manage it.

However, entirely separate from my own relative comfort, Gwangyeon suffered an absolute living hell. It was a stroke of immense fortune that my serpentine form was so exceptionally slender and minuscule; had it been any larger, the sheer agony might have claimed his life.

‘Now, how on earth do I get out?’

Just as that thought crossed my mind, my body was suddenly jerked violently upward. Gwangyeon had been desperately jamming his fingers down his own throat, forcing himself to gag to expel me.

After being violently wrenched upward a few more times, I was abruptly disgorged onto the floor of his chamber. Covered drenched in his saliva, I looked up to see Gwangyeon staring back at me, his eyes completely bloodshot.

Never in my life had I been so ecstatic to see him.

“Thank goodness, Gwangeum. I truly thought you were going to perish inside my belly.”

Gwangyeon then hurriedly rushed his words, his voice frantic.

“Go to the Grand-Disciple Ancestor immediately. He is already consumed with worry over Sorin, and if even you vanish, it will break his spirit entirely. There is no time to linger here. My senior disciples could walk through that door at any moment.”

Agreeing with his judgment, I slithered away with all the speed my scales could muster.

Fortunately, from that moment until I reached Great Master Wonhyun’s quarters, I encountered no further obstacles. The undeniable omens of my human transformation began to manifest almost the exact instant I slipped into his room. Had it not been for a newly formed gap under his door, I wouldn’t have even been able to breach the threshold in time.

Considering that Hwangeon’s disciples might have been watching from the shadows, my timing could not have been more miraculous.

“Master!”

It had been a mere two days since I had been separated from him. Yet, in that brief interim, Great Master Wonhyun had withered to a shocking degree. He looked entirely gaunt, as though he hadn’t slept a wink or consumed a single morsel of food, utterly consumed by terror over what might have befallen me.

The moment his eyes fell upon me, tears spilled freely from his gaze, which had grown as dry and weathered as tree bark. Without uttering a single word, he threw his arms around me, pulling me into a fierce embrace while repeatedly stroking the back of my head.

“I have already packed our belongings. Quick, put on your clothes. We must leave. If we tarry here any longer, there is no telling what disaster may strike.”

Great Master Wonhyun pulled two travel bundles toward us as he spoke.

The chamber was entirely barren, stripped of all belongings as if he had already finalized every preparation to abandon the sect. He sank to the floor in front of me, presenting his back.

“Climb on. We must put this place behind us first.”

This was no time for polite refusals. A single delay could bring absolute ruin not just to me, but to Great Master Wonhyun as well.

If we were caught now, we might find ourselves permanently entombed within Shaolin’s notorious Thunder Cavern…

The moment I secured myself onto his back, Great Master Wonhyun bolted from the quarters, deploying a profound movement technique the likes of which I had never witnessed before. Hwangeon’s disciples spotted our departure a fraction too late and scrambled to deploy their own techniques in pursuit, but Great Master Wonhyun shook them off with laughable ease.

A mere heartbeat later, we were perched upon the highest canopy of the forest; in the next instant, Mount Song was completely behind us. Recalling how Gwangyeon had sprinted until his breath failed without ever escaping the mountain’s shadow, I truly grasped just how terrifyingly peerless Great Master Wonhyun’s martial prowess truly was.

Watching Mount Song vanish beneath the horizon, I couldn’t help but look back, unable to fully conceal the bittersweet pang in my chest.

Where are we heading now? Will I ever set eyes on Gwangyeon again? Are we truly journeying to Sichuan now? Will I finally get to see Murin again this time? Has Murin heard any word of my existence by now?

A torrent of questions flooded my mind, yet I possessed not a single inkling of an answer.

Having halted our breakneck flight, we took shelter within a secluded cavern deep in the mountains. Great Master Wonhyun was in a state of absolute exhaustion, having gone days without proper sustenance or rest.

Though his profound internal cultivation allowed him to endure without food or sleep for a time, his advanced age meant his physical vessel would require significant time to recover. Having carried me while unleashing the absolute pinnacle of his movement techniques without a single pause, rest was an absolute necessity for him.

Great Master Wonhyun sat in a meditative posture, circulating his internal energy to restore his depleted reserves, while I remained by his side, gathering wood to kindle a fire and preparing what food I could manage. It was nearly two hours later when he concluded his cultivation cycle and called me over.

“The leaves must have been quite damp, yet you handled that remarkably well. To even kindle a proper fire… It is not as though you can perform the True Samadhi Fire technique, so how did you manage it, Sorin?”

“It was nothing grand, Master.”

Yet, Great Master Wonhyun watched me with keen interest, gesturing for me to demonstrate the feat once more.

This skill was a relic from my past life. Once you entered the realm of espionage and took up the mantle of tracking targets, sleeping under the stars became as routine as eating breakfast. There were countless nights when the risk of discovery forbade even a spark, forcing me to watch in shivering silence; thus, whenever a fire was permitted, I had perfected the art of kindling one under any circumstance.

While carrying a fire-starter flint pouch was an option, such tools cost money. When fleeing a crisis or moving in absolute haste without equipment, one had to possess the primitive skill to conjure fire from nothing. I had practiced striking flint and steel with absolute devotion, and even after reincarnating as Dang Sorin, the muscle memory remained etched into my soul.

I had been worried whether my current diminutive hands could manage it, but the action proved remarkably effortless. Selecting the least damp leaves from a nearby pile, I rubbed them briskly between my palms to create tinder, then struck the flint in quick, sharp successions to catch a spark. As the flame caught, Great Master Wonhyun observed me as though he were witnessing a marvel.

“Did the Clan Leader teach you this?”

He seemed to assume that the Lord of the Sichuan Dang Clan would personally pass down such survival minutiae to his own kin.

“Survival skills are of paramount importance. Yet, there are few masters who take the care to teach them properly.”

I quietly let the misunderstanding slide, stepping over the topic like a serpent slipping over a wall. Great Master Wonhyun simply offered a warm, deeply gratified smile, clearly pleased by everything I did.

Seizing the quiet moment, I voiced the question that had been weighing on me.

“Where do we intend to journey now, Master?”

“Let us head toward Sichuan first. Once we cross into their territory, we will bound to intercept news regarding the Dang Clan. We must ascertain the current situation there before we can safely plot our next destination.”

Has the Clan Leader learned of my existence? We would know the answer to that soon enough. Great Master Wonhyun seemed intent on putting my mind at ease.

“Do not burden your heart with excessive worry. The world is vastly wide; surely there is a small corner under heaven where you and I can lay our heads.”

I pressed further, wanting to understand the exact parameters of his plan.

“For the time being, we shall conceal our identities as Shaolin monks. We will travel under the guise of simple wanderers from a minor, obscure temple. You shall be my young acolyte.”

Hearing his words, a wave of profound guilt washed over me. Even if my own twisted fate was unavoidable, Great Master Wonhyun had been dragged into this storm entirely because of me. He could have enjoyed a far more tranquil, honored twilight to his life; knowing I had disrupted that peace left me feeling deeply sinful.

Yet, Great Master Wonhyun turned his concern entirely upon me.

“Sorin. You are a precious child. No matter what trials the future may hold, you must never lose the love you hold for your own soul. In the end, a person’s worth is dictated solely by themselves. No matter how others may treat you, they can never truly perceive the depths of who you are. But I know you. I know that you are a deeply precious and noble child.”

His words struck a raw nerve, causing a lump to form in my throat. I wondered how I could ever begin to repay the immense debt of what he had given me.

“Thank you, Master,” I managed to whisper.

He offered a tender smile and began to partake of the simple porridge I had prepared.

“This is truly wonderful,” he mused softly. “To venture out into the wider Jianghu accompanied by my own disciple. Did you know, Sorin? You are my very first disciple, and you shall be my only one. The elders of the sect used to press me constantly, even flaring into anger, demanding that I take an apprentice, yet back then, the desire never once stirred within me. It seems it was all the grand design of the Buddha. I was merely meant to wait all those long years simply to meet you.”

Beginning with that tender confession, Great Master Wonhyun shared countless tales of his past. He then took the time to meticulously refine the internal cultivation law he had previously imparted to me, and went on to dictate the oral mnemonics for a secret movement technique.

“Under normal circumstances, I had no intention of introducing you to movement arts so early, but it seems the moment you will desperately require them may arrive far swifter than I anticipated.”

He was essentially telling me that if a conflict arose, I should use the technique to flee, an ideology I wholeheartedly agreed with. One had to survive first to even have a future to speak of, after all.

Fortunately, I had already mastered the internal cultivation law up to the fourth stage. Great Master Wonhyun was visibly shaken by the revelation, clearly never expecting such rapid progress. Watching his profound astonishment, I found myself thoroughly puzzled, wondering if reaching the fourth stage was truly a feat worthy of such shock.

Seeing my confusion, Great Master Wonhyun explained.

“Cultivating a standard internal law to the fourth stage may not be considered an extraordinary feat in and of itself. However, it entirely depends on which cultivation law one is practicing. The technique I have passed down to you is of such a nature that even if the Abbot himself were to begin cultivating it, reaching the seventh stage would be an monumental challenge.”

“…Pardon?”

I would have been stunned had he compared my progress to a prodigy like Gwangyeon, but to use the Abbot himself as the benchmark of comparison? Knowing firsthand the immense reverence Great Master Wonhyun held for the Abbot’s martial standing, his words left me utterly dumbfounded.

Seeing my expression, Great Master Wonhyun chuckled warmly.

“It seems you are harboring a slight misunderstanding. Advancing rapidly through the stages does not mean you possess superior martial comprehension to the Abbot. I have personally tailored and modified this internal law specifically to align with your unique constitution, so it is only natural that your progress is swift.”

Ah… so that was it.

As my shoulders slumped in slight disappointment, I caught Great Master Wonhyun flashing a deeply meaningful, enigmatic smile. Though I couldn’t fully decipher the hidden depth behind that look, I firmly resolved then and there to stop swaying between pride and despair, and simply devote myself entirely to mastering whatever he chose to teach me.

“This internal law will not clash with the martial arts of the Sichuan Dang Clan. Therefore, if the Clan Leader ever desires to pass down the direct lineage arts of the Dang family to you in the future, you may cultivate them without fear of deviation.”

“Master…”

Realizing that he had gone to the length of altering a profound internal law just to accommodate my future with my birth family, the bridge of my nose pricked with tears once more. Having survived an ordeal that directly threatened my very life, it seemed even the smallest gesture of kindness was enough to move me to tears.