Bound by Secrets, Tied to the Blade

Meanwhile, the low murmur of voices drifted in from outside. When we stepped out, the Abbot had returned holding some mooncakes.

“They were baked just moments ago, so eat them while they are still warm.”

“Thank you, Abbot. I shall always engrave your benevolence deep within my heart.”

“Hearing such words from the Grand Young Master of the Tang Clan makes me feel reassured.”

With those words, the Abbot took his leave, and Great Master Won-hyeon headed to the kitchen to stoke the firewood.

“What do you usually do all day, Sorin?”

“I follow the Great Master to practice Zen meditation, and I also do some physical conditioning.”

He merely nodded. Perhaps he thought I was wasting precious time when I ought to be in the prime of my martial arts training.

In the Sichuan Tang Clan, there was a specific lineage of martial arts transmitted solely to the direct descendants of the Clan Leader. Under normal circumstances, I should have remained at the main estate, learning and mastering those arts alongside Murin. Since I was staying here instead of returning home under the guise of an illness, it likely gave him much food for thought.

Murin looked at me and offered a warm smile.

“I suppose this is why they say human greed knows no bounds. Before I arrived, I was terrified that you might be terribly ill. But now that I see you looking so healthy, I’m already starting to think that you ought to begin learning our clan’s martial arts.”

“I should. Someday.”

My voice lacked confidence as I spoke. Would a day where I could truly do that ever come?

The moment it was revealed that I did not share the Clan Leader’s bloodline, even my bare survival could not be guaranteed. Just how much longer could I keep this secret?

We stepped out of the room and sat on the edge of the wooden veranda, and when we grew tired of that, we strolled around the perimeter, talking endlessly. Our conversation flowed without a single pause.

I asked Murin to show me the martial arts he had mastered so far, and he readily demonstrated his sword forms right before my eyes. Just how much grueling time and effort had he poured into his training to achieve this?

The title of a sword prodigy was not earned cheaply. A wave of awe, mixed with a trace of envy, welled up within me.

“Will I be able to do that later as well?”

“Of course. As soon as your body recovers, you must return to the main estate. The moment you return, I will teach you absolutely everything.”

He then quickly pressed on.

“Great Master Won-hyeon won’t be able to teach you martial arts. Nor should you learn them from him. You must inherit our clan’s martial lineage, after all. You do know the basic cultivation method (Sim-bup), right?”

I did. I wasn’t entirely certain if I was executing it perfectly, but I had been practicing the internal cultivation method in my own way. I was diligently forging the energy pathways within my body, preparing for the day I might finally be permitted to learn the Tang Clan’s techniques.

Seeing me in a state where I could collapse and lose consciousness at any given moment, Murin looked as though he found it difficult to even urge me to work hard.

“Don’t force yourself to do anything overly complicated; just try to grasp these few basic forms. Don’t worry about trying to do it perfectly.”

He couldn’t bring himself to speak with any force. Though he had so much he wanted to teach me, he was clearly terrified that I might fall ill if I overexerted myself.

Murin demonstrated a few basic stances and forms. To be born as the Second Young Master of the Sichuan Tang Clan and receive direct, personal instruction from a sword genius—what incredible fortune this was. As I swung the practice sword a few times following his guidance, a deeply gratified expression spread across Murin’s face.

“You’re quite good, little brother.”

He walked over to my side and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, signaling that it was time to stop. Even though I had only swung the blade a handful of times, he already seemed anxious for my well-being.

That evening, we shared a meal prepared by Great Master Won-hyeon. Throughout the dinner, Murin’s expression remained grim. Though he politely told the Great Master it was delicious and offered his thanks, it clearly pained him to see me living on such coarse, unrefined mountain fare.

The impending hour of our parting only worsened his mood.

The thought of separating from him again left me heavy-hearted, but perhaps because I had exerted my body earlier, a wave of exhaustion washed over me and I felt myself drifting off early. I tried rubbing my eyes to chase away the drowsiness, wanting to speak with Murin for even just a fraction longer before he left, but in the end, sleep claimed me.

And that very night, the disaster struck.

In truth, I did not possess a precise memory of what had transpired. All I knew was that by the time I finally opened my eyes, several days had already slipped away.

I had succumbed to unconsciousness in my sleep, and when my awareness finally returned, Murin was nowhere to be found. Overwhelmed by shock at the realization that days had passed in the interim, I frantically sought out Great Master Won-hyeon. He had been training in the courtyard, but upon hearing my voice, he hurried into the room.

“Great Master! Did I… did I turn into a snake again while I was asleep?”

Instead of answering immediately, he gently and slowly stroked my head.

“Surely… Brother didn’t see me, right?”

“I struck Murin’s pressure points (Su-hyeol) to plunge him into a profound sleep. The moment I noticed the warning signs, I sealed his pressure points in advance and carried your transformed body to a secluded location before waking him. I then informed him that you had to attend an indispensable temple function. Though he appeared deeply disappointed, he understood. Being a child born of a martial family, he seems to comprehend that one must never neglect such duties.”

It cut me to the quick that I had turned into a serpent at such a crucial moment, forcing Murin to leave like that, but there was nothing to be done. I had to take solace in the fact that Murin had not witnessed my monstrous form.

“Thank you, Great Master.”

“You never need to utter such words to me. It is I who am sorry for only being able to provide this much for you, Sorin.”

Before I knew it, Great Master Won-hyeon had become a person I trusted more than anyone else in this world.

Following that incident, I continued to transform into a snake at frequent intervals. The time between each transformation, as well as the duration I remained in that serpentine state, varied completely at random.

When I first arrived at Shaolin alongside the Clan Leader and Murin, I had never imagined I would remain trapped here for so long. Yet, three years slipped away ruthlessly.

I spent my eleventh birthday in solitude, receiving congratulations only from Great Master Won-hyeon and the Abbot. Then again, considering the sheer stature of those two individuals, one could hardly complain about receiving blessings from ‘only’ two people.

With each passing birthday, I found myself calculating Murin’s age alongside my own. Murin would be fourteen by now, undoubtedly growing into an even more dignified and composed youth.

I missed him frequently. Over the years, the Clan Leader and Murin had attempted to visit me several times, but Great Master Won-hyeon had gracefully deflected their requests.

While the Great Master had been able to put Murin to sleep by striking his pressure points in the past, there was no telling how future circumstances might shift. If we were sitting face-to-face in conversation and I suddenly transformed into a snake, even Great Master Won-hyeon would be powerless to salvage the situation.

Furthermore, deceiving the Clan Leader—whose internal energy and martial cultivation vastly surpassed Murin’s—would be a near-impossible feat. Thus, Great Master Won-hyeon concocted plausible excuses. He added a fabrication that after Murin’s last visit, my condition had drastically worsened due to the sheer intensity of how much I pined for my brother.

Since I had sought refuge under his care, Great Master Won-hyeon had spoken far too many falsehoods for a Buddhist monk. Reflecting on this filled me with immense, unbearable guilt. And it wasn’t just him; the Abbot was no different.

The two of them repeatedly stated that the Buddha’s will could never be to see a child slaughtered, and they threw their entire weight into shielding me. Beneath their absolute protection, I grew up safely.

Thus, until I turned eleven, I lived entirely secluded in that quarters on Mount Song, alone with Great Master Won-hyeon, without ever laying eyes on the Clan Leader or Murin again. As the years we spent together stretched on, Great Master Won-hyeon grew to desire to formally take me as his disciple and pass down his own personal martial lineage to me.

By law, a disciple belonging to one sect could not join another, but it was a fairly common occurrence for a child of a secular martial family to become a disciple of a different sect. While I held no particular desire to become a monk of Shaolin, I understood his plight. He deeply wished to find someone to inherit his lifelong martial legacy.

He wanted to leave behind everything he had spent his life building, yet because of my condition, he could not permit any outsiders into our quarters, which made me feel a heavy sense of responsibility. However, this was not a dilemma that could be solved simply by my sudden resolve.

If I were to become Great Master Won-hyeon’s formal disciple, my generational status (Bae-bun) would become equal to that of the current Abbot. This meant that in thirty or forty years, I could potentially become the individual with the highest generational authority in all of Shaolin. For a child not even fifteen years old to become the martial brother (Sa-je) to the Abbot was a matter that could never be treated lightly.

In the end, declaring that he would only waste precious time trying to untangle the politics of the matter, Great Master Won-hyeon simply began instructing me. The Abbot was well aware that the Great Master had resolved to take me as his disciple, but he did nothing to stop him.

If the worst came to worst, they agreed to register me as an anonymous disciple (Mugi-myeong Je-ja) who would remain entirely uninvolved in the official affairs of Shaolin, acting solely as the vessel to inherit Great Master Won-hyeon’s martial lineage. For the time being, the matter was left loosely knotted at that.

In the midst of all this, another momentous shift occurred: I finally became capable of retaining my consciousness and memory even after collapsing and transforming into a snake. During those hours, I no longer lost my sanity, meaning I knew exactly what I was doing and where I was slithering. It was an extraordinary evolution.

I still vividly remembered the very first time I became a serpent without losing my rational mind. Through the endless cycle of collapsing and transforming, I had come to faintly recognize the distinct physical shifts that occurred within my body right before I lost consciousness. Therefore, when that familiar sensation washed over me, I warned Great Master Won-hyeon in advance.

“Great Master, it feels just like before. I believe I am about to lose consciousness soon.”

Though a brief flicker of panic crossed his features, he swiftly carried me to the room and laid me down.

“You have no need to fear, Sorin. I shall remain right by your side. No one can enter this place, so set your mind at ease. You will awaken shortly, and absolutely nothing will go wrong.”

At his reassuring words, I nodded. In the past, whenever unconsciousness claimed me, I had merely stood by as a passive observer to my own fate. But now, I desired to confront it with far greater agency. Just because I had opened my eyes in the body of Tang Sorin did not mean I intended to let his tragic destiny dictate my life.