Work Text:
Before he closed his eyes, the world around him had been covered in red, only the blue sky with the first signs of dawn standing out in the image.
In the distance, he thought he smelled the plum blossom aroma, as if it pervaded through his soul. His fingers twitched, brushing against the soft fabric on which he lay, covered by a thin quilt. Slowly, he opened his eyes to the small but neat room in a location he didn"t recognise .
Cheonma had managed to come back to life, even if he wasn"t sure where he was. With little effort, he noted the dozens of people in the same building as him, moving slowly as if preparing for the day, even though the sun had not risen on the horizon yet.
The body he was in was incomparably weak to the one he had inhabited in his previous life. From the moment he woke up, his body was on fire as if fighting a terrible terminal illness, which could be a sign of rejection of the new soul that was trying to possess him. Still, he ignored his weakened state to rummage through the furniture for an outer robe, deciding to explore the place he had found himself in.
The red plum blossom embroidery stared back at him on the white cloth.
The eyebrows on his face twisted ever so slightly, as if his body were naturally expressive, trying to affirm that incomprehensible feeling that arose like an ephemeral spark. Anyways, his thoughts about his current situation were quite unimportant. Cheonma wore the Hwasan Sect second class disciple uniform as if he were wearing his own robes.
When he finished, he turned his head in the direction of his window. For some reason, the presences that he had noticed in the building had gathered in the same place, along with more disciples. It seemed that there would be some kind of event.
The assembled disciples were wearing the usual white uniform, lined up in perfectly orderly rows as they waited for someone, most likely the instructor. Nearly two hundred people gathered in one place, swords at their hips, rubbing their eyes, removing the last traces of sleep.
As Cheonma approached them, the children broke into whispers, covering their mouths as they leaned toward their companions" ears. Their eyes did not wander from his person, as if they had witnessed a sight difficult to believe. The voices weren"t discreet enough that he couldn"t hear what they were saying with his body"s cultivation level.
"Doesn"t it seem like Sasuk today is a bit…?"
The boy who was leading the training, a young disciple with his hair tied up in a scarlet bun, exchanged a few words with the boy next to him discreetly.
"Maybe it"s his hair, today it"s completely loose, " replied the red haired boy.
"Just loose? He doesn"t even have his headband on. I can even see his pecs from here."
Cheonma turned his head towards the children, realizing that the brighter presences had naturally gathered in a circle, in turn being the ones to raise their critical voices without fear of reprisal.
The red haired boy nodded. “Usually Sasuk cares about every detail, right? To be so careless, he…”
"Yes, even the usual luster is lacking. Normally you would think that he learned the Shaolin arts with that golden alo..." Even a monk in the uniform of the Shaolin Sect joined them.
“I feel like if Baek-ah jumped on him, his clothes would be covered in hair this time.,” added the girl with her hair tied in two buns. "His robe has three wrinkles, three wrinkles!"
"Do you count his wrinkles?" The boy with the scarlet bun replied.
"You know how much he notices those things, it"s very noticeable!"
"Still, I don"t count the wrinkles in his clothes... "
"... Ehem, I think he might be sick."
The talk became livelier, whispers turning to exclamations and fingers pointing at his appearance. One person put an end to all of this with a sentence that seemed quite ordinary. A boy dressed in the third generation disciple uniform approached them with his hands behind his back like an old man with a bad back.
The boy made a grin. "It seems like you"re really looking forward to training today!"
The children froze in place, their eyes wide in panic. Instinctive fear had taken root in their features, recoiling like scared rabbits from a tiger baring its fangs. It was not a wild assumption to say that this young man was the leader everyone followed, considering the strength that his presence exuded, like a sun that had been contained in his small body. He was no more powerful than some of the enemies Cheonma had faced before had been, yet the purity of his energy was without equal.
"It"s not... No, I mean, there"s a reason, Cheongmyeong-ah." In a show of disloyalty, the red haired kid pointed at Cheonma: "Baekcheon Sasuk is sick!"
Cheongmyeong"s head turned quickly to check Cheonma"s appearance, in Baekcheon"s body, scanning from head to toe without leaving a single hair out.
“It certainly is unusual… ”
Eye contact with Cheongmyeong caused an unexpected reaction in his new body. Cheonma put a hand to his stomach, covering the area as he did a self-diagnosis. His stomach twisted as if it had been stabbed, a pain that could not be dulled by meager cultivation nor could it be attributed to any visible wound. It was as if just meeting this person caused him deep discomfort.
"Maybe he ate something bad?" Cheongmyeong concluded, with his head bowed. "Soso, come here."
The young woman with two buns in her hair stepped forward. "How can it be! Sasuk gets a stomach ache seeing Cheongmyeong Sahyeong, but he never neglected his appearance like that just because of that."
"Does your stomach ache when you see me?" Cheongmyeong narrowed his eyes. "For what reason did he... ?"
"He nearly used up my entire stash of stomach pain medication. It"s the main reason why I have to keep replenishing ingredients!"
At the back of the crowd, the monk exclaimed. "He even has three wrinkles in his clothes!"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Three wrinkles is a serious disease," Cheongmyeong clucked.
The crowd of disciples seemed to take Cheongmyeong"s interest in the subject as tacit permission of some kind, so they soon surrounded Cheonma with interest, helping to point out all the out of place details as if they wanted to divert attention from another topic.
It might seem strange to others to see how the third and second generation disciples were following so obediently the one who seemed to be the least among them. However, Cheonma could smell the smell of blood coming from that child, like a warrior who had experienced war. Just his presence reminded him so much of...
“Look here, Dongryong,” Cheongmyeong called softly.
Cheonma tilted his head a fraction to his right, intrigued by the development of events. Perhaps these kids can find out in a ridiculously fast amount of time that he wasn"t Baekcheon. If that was the case, he would have to use force to silence all the witnesses in this place.
Soon, a hand gently brushed his hair back from his face, placing the calloused palm on Cheonma"s forehead. Cheongmyeong took his hand away from him, humming aloud with an undertone of disapproval and incline.
"It"s definitely a fever, but even with a fever, Sasuk should be able to get through the training.”
"Of course not, you punk!" Soso stepped forward, her face twisted like a demon. "If someone gets sick, then he should rest, it"s common sense!"
"Was it all a ploy to skip training?" he wondered aloud. "It"s not like he"s passing out on his feet or anything, I swear."
Cheongmyeong"s musings were ignored.
"Come here, Sasuk, I"ll take you to the infirmary for a full check up," Soso left no room for objection. "I"m sorry I didn"t bring some stomach medicine now…"
Cheonma was pushed with a pair of firm hands in an unknown direction.
"I"ll accompany him!"
"Jo Geol Sahyeong is not necessary!"
"So that was his name," Cheonma thought to himself, slowly assembling the bits of information into a coherent assessment.
The Hwasan Sect was a strange place. He had made his own deductions as to where his rebirth would take place, however, he had not considered the sect that had finally earned his recognition, even if it was in terms of opposition. The place was not an impediment to his aspirations, but despite him, he found himself baffled by the personality of the disciples who made it up.
"My God! I feed them pills, elixirs, and meat, but they get sick so easily. Where did my money go, huh?" Cheongmyeong didn"t hold back from expressing his dissatisfaction even as Cheonma walked away. "When he recovers I"ll make him train five times as hard to make up for lost time!"
Jo Geol hesitated. "Shouldn"t it just be double?"
"Sahyeong has good ideas from time to time, it will be ten times more difficult!"
Cheonma felt the pain in his stomach intensify.
What a curious medical condition.
“This is the usual medicine for stomach pain, and this is an antipyretic,” Soso said, placing the tray with the medicine and a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. "It is likely that excessive training in the cold was the cause of Sasuk"s fever."
The eyes narrowed, as if she found her own theory flawed. Cheonma took the medicine under her watchful gaze without changing the expression on his face, as if the bad taste in his mouth was bland, just a minor annoyance. Soso let out a breath before pulling away from him.
“Sasuk must rest until the fever passes. Unfortunately, I have to go back to continue training or Sahyeong will have my head,” she stood up, shooting him one last look, as if she could sense something wasn"t quite right. "I"ll be back after lunch to see how you"re doing."
Cheonma nodded briefly, patiently waiting for Soso to withdraw. Soso collected the ingredients that were carried away to the next room, with only the sound of the materials colliding softly against the wood as she put them away was heard in the contemplative silence.
The door opened softly, the woman who entered almost unnoticed in the way her energy coiled around herself, morose. She approached the bed where Cheonma was resting with a wooden tray in her hands, on which a bowl of light soup, a bowl of rice and a cup of tea rested still warm.
“Sahyeong, the breakfast,” she announced briefly, setting the tray down where the medicine had been. When it didn"t look like Cheonma was going to make a move to reach for the food, she ordered: "Eat."
At that moment, Soso stuck her head in the doorway, her eyes starry once she noticed who the guest was.
"Sago!" Soso exclaimed, approaching. “Did you bring breakfast for Baekcheon Sasuk? Sago is as considerate as ever."
The woman nodded seriously, as if entrusted with a mission of great importance. Since it was only the disciples who knew about the trip to Cheonma"s infirmary, she must have been the one who personally thought of looking for food for her sick martial brother. Soso"s smile blandened.
"Sasuk is fine, it"s probably the excessive training that thug forces us to do every day, you know that Sasuk takes the brunt of it," Soso tried to reassure her. "By afternoon he should be fine, that"s the kind of stamina he must have to survive in Hwasan."
The woman nodded, smiling softly. "Then I"ll go."
“I will accompany you, sago. I was about to go back to the training grounds anyway."
“It"s at Nakabong peak,” the woman corrected, walking out the door.
Once Cheonma was alone in the room, it was not long before he left, this time with his robes crossed at the collarbone, the fabric softened and his hair tied in a high ponytail with a white ribbon. The food plates were half empty.
Some of the buildings in the sect were built in an unknown style, materials so new that they seemed to glisten in the sunlight, and excessive carving of plum blossoms on each pillar exposed from his angle. Other buildings weren"t so lucky, with old walls with additional coats of paint to hide the cracks running through them, and some steps on the wooden hallways creaking as if about to give under the extra weight.
Cheonma realized that the amount of time that must have passed since the war was substantial, since he himself had visited the sect a handful of years before his death, and the scenery was not remotely familiar. The only thing that remained unchanged were the plum blossoms that filled the breeze with the thick scent of spring.
He walked down the hall to where he thought the Sect Leader"s residence must be located, frowning as he realized the source of the feeling of incongruity he had had since he woke up. Despite this body"s sensing abilities, the level of martial arts that he had noticed in other disciples was quite low compared to the previous generation that he had faced. It seemed that not enough time had passed since the war if the sect had not managed to recover yet.
The faint sound of creaking wood caught Cheonma"s attention, and he paused briefly to turn his head, looking over his shoulder at the person who followed him, hiding his presence. The pair of glowing plum eyes stared back at him boldly, a hint of annoyance glowing within.
It was a color that reminded him of the past, along with a familiar name that he had only given importance to towards the end of his life. "Cheongmyeong."
“My, my, so it really was just a plot to escape training. Aren"t the children of today more and more daring?" Cheongmyeong clicked his tongue in disapproval. "In my time, if I found someone like that, I would have broken their legs myself to make sure they had a legitimate reason to rest!"
Cheonma smiled, narrowing his eyes with joy, his body again expressing more emotion than he would have allowed.
"In your days?" he repeated. "You speak as if you were a reincarnated master swordsman."
Cheongmyeong took two steps back, as if the words had been heavier than a physical blow. An awkward laugh spilled from his lips. “Our Dongryong says the strangest things, after all there must be some truth to your condition to start delusional out of the blue.”
He didn"t know how much time it had taken for him to wake up in this world once more, but luckily he didn"t miss the chance to meet the only worthy opponent he found back then. It seemed that there had been a side effect at the moment of reincarnation, so that their souls ended up flowing at the same time with their memories intact. Before Cheonma could continue, a second class disciple approached them with a smile on his face.
“Baekcheon Sasuk, I was looking for you!” The joy on the young man"s face dimmed as he saw who his company was. “The Sect Leader asked to see you.”
“Then I"ll head over there,” Cheonma replied, curving his lips. For some reason, the stomach ache that had bothered him since he left his room that morning had eased. Perhaps the medicine had taken effect together with the work of spiritual energy.
"When you"re done, you"ll be doing ten times as much training as everyone else!" Cheongmyeong snorted in annoyance. "Don"t think that I didn"t notice that the three wrinkles were smoothed out or that your robe is smoothed up well."
What was the obsession of these disciples with the wrinkles in other people"s clothing?
Cheongmyeong, who set out to follow him, was stopped by the second class disciple.
"I"m sorry, Cheongmyeong-ah, but the Sect Leader specified that only Baekcheon Sasuk be the person you meet with."
"What business could I talk to Sasuk about that I couldn"t help him with?" He complained loudly but didn"t press any further, turning around to walk alongside the second class disciple, away from Cheonma.
“Sasuk is still the next Sect Leader, of course there will be pieces of wisdom that the Sect Leader would want to personally pass on to his successors,” the disciple replied lightly.
Just the tone of voices during the conversation made clear the position of these people in the sect, and Cheongmyeong"s ensuing silence was even more revealing. It seemed that the Plum Blossom Sword Saint had carved out his own niche in this sect even without revealing his identity, with a position superior to that of other higher-ranking disciples but obedience to the Sect Leader ingrained from his first life. He could still remember the more loyal dog-like swordsman he was.
And the body that Cheonma inhabited was the future Hwasan Sect Leader.
The Sect Leader greeted Cheonma warmly, placing a firm palm behind his back to guide him towards the table with high chairs where a pot of tea had already been heated. The smile on his lips was gentle, like a grandfather receiving his grandchildren instead of the leader capable of commanding swordsmen. The spiral of energy building up inside him was downright pitiful.
Cheonma slid down in his seat, ready to give in to pour the tea when a plan began to form in his head. However, the Sect Leader stepped forward, carefully picking up the pot to pour a steaming cup which he gently pushed towards him.
“Baekcheon-ah, it"s been a while since we"ve sat down like this to enjoy a good chat,” the Sect Leader began. “How has your training been?”
Baekcheon"s body oozed the same crimson spirit energy characteristic of plum blossom swordsmen resembling demon arts, the amount of energy accumulated was pathetic but still better than any of the other disciples he had encountered. Except for the Plum Blossom Sword Saint.
“This disciple is doing well,” Cheonma"s lips curved back into the soft smile that seemed to suit this body"s personality more, given the strange looks he continued to maintain as he maintained his restrained demeanor. “Was there something the Sect Leader wanted to discuss with me?”
The Sect Leader"s eyes flicked to the table where his hands cradled the tea, avoiding eye contact like a child caught in the middle of a mischief.
"Is it hard to believe that I just wanted to talk to you?"
Choenma tilted his head.
"Usually the job of Sect Leader is busy."
“How could I say that I am busy when it is the youngest who have been running around the world to bring fortune to our Sect?” he asked. “I feel ashamed, once again I am trying to lean on you.”
The elder"s shoulders slumped a little. Cheonma felt that he could understand a bit more about the situation of this sect. Perhaps, for Baekcheon, the time to succeed as the leader of this sect was not as far away as it normally should be. If it wasn"t officially then the balance of power would naturally shift towards the younger generation, even more so having the direct support of the Sect Leader.
"How could I deny the Sect Leader"s request?"
The Sect Leader sighed.
"It"s about the manual of secret arts..." He said, undecided. "I would like to ask for advice. One of the tomes was coincidentally lost when it was left under Cheongmyeong"s charge. I had memorized a bit of it before lending it to them, and the elders had also taken a look at it. Since you were one of the people who had it, were you able to read it?"
Cheonma shook his head. That was probably a lost cause, even if it wasn"t a different person who was responding to the sect leader instead of the leader of the Demon Cult. The sect leader pursed his lips.
"I thought you"d say that. Still I"d like you to take a look at what I was able to gather, maybe you can remember something or point out any inconsistencies."
With both hands, Cheonma accepted the sect leader"s notes with a smirk.
The previous talk was enlightening in many ways. It was in the middle of the talk where Cheonma had a chance to take a look at the sect"s martial arts books that a first class disciple interrupted them. After delivering a message to the Sect Leader, the first class disciple, Un Am, turned around to face Cheonma.
"Shouldn"t you be in the infirmary?"
Were the words spoken with concern.
The Sect Leader was shocked. "Oh! I didn"t know you felt bad. Don"t let me hold you back, get back to rest as soon as possible."
The Sect Leader did not ask about his physical condition, rather it seemed that he had already made an assumption about the source of his discomfort. An Am nodded next to him, looking sympathetic.
“Injuries are common in training, but when exhaustion damages the body, it can"t be good,” the first-class disciple commented. "I"ll have a word with Un Geom about it."
"Shouldn"t it be Cheongmyeong-ah?"
“Sect Leader…”
"Ah... Of course."
Cheonma bid farewell to the Sect Leader as soon as he could without breaking the characterization of him as an obedient second-class young disciple. It seemed that the information he had obtained so far would have to be enough, he had just arrived anyway and was unfamiliar with the political situation, so there was no reason to rush.
It was on his way back from the Sect Leader"s quarters that the young disciples who had just finished his training accosted him again. The band approached with his arms folded, blocking her path with a deep scowl.
"So here you were! It looks like you don"t need a doctor from the way you walk, huh?” Soso accused. “These disobedient patients… Should I start tying them up to keep them still? I might as well stick some needles into that thick skull to immobilize them…!”
Yoon Jong walked behind her with a resigned expression. "Sasuk is already that guy"s main victim anyway... If you let him walk a little longer, he"ll come and beat him up for you."
"No, that"s not the point!" Soso replied, shocked. "It"s because he doesn"t heal, you punk!"
"...So we take him back to the infirmary?" Yoon Jong tilted his head.
“That"s where I"m headed,” Cheonma interrupted, tired of these children jumping in front of his path to block him with incoherent chatter. After those few words, he confidently walked forward, passing through the two people who unconsciously moved out of his way.
"Sasuk seems different after all, doesn"t he?"
Yoon Jong had his brows pinched. "He didn"t even smile.”
"Ah, Sasuk!" The redheaded boy stuck the upper half of his body out of the window, smiling brightly when his eyes met. "I brought a light lunch at Soso"s request."
Cheonma sighed quietly, appalled at how many people had jumped on the recovering patient on his way back to the infirmary. Cheongmyeong had wandered on the edge of his senses, pacing slowly only to speed up with quiet ramblings at an intermittent pace, casting occasional glances in Cheonma"s direction before deciding to pretend nothing had happened.
Cheonma received the food in silence, arranging the plates in front of him. His movements were simple but elegant, without uttering a word or making any expression in particular. With no one specifically addressing him, he pretended the other people in the room didn"t exist.
As if to mock his thoughts, Cheongmyeong tentatively approached him, leaning against the side of the bed with an averted gaze.
"Eh, since you really seem to feel bad this time, I"ll give you one of these…"
As the reluctant words left his mouth, a sable of all things peeked out from between the robe layers of Cheongmyeong"s clothing. The marten bit down hard on a handkerchief on its muzzle, leaping from the third class disciple"s chest onto the table to drop the gift, the ends of the cloth falling haphazardly and the inside could be glimpsed. A couple of toasted mooncakes peeked out.
"I"d offer you alcohol, but our doctor wouldn"t allow it, huh?" The chuckle that escaped Cheongmyeong"s lips told him that that wasn"t the reason he didn"t want to share, but he let it go anyway. Jo Geol climbed over the window frame, jumping into the room to take a seat next to Cheongmyeong.
As if the owner of this body was still with him, he felt his body react involuntarily, raising the corners of his lips in a spasm much like a smile, while his eyes, which reflected his soul, were expressionless.
“Tastes good,” he commented as he bit into the sugary dough. It seemed that Baekcheon"s relationship with Cheongmyeong was naturally good. It couldn"t be more than an advantage if things turned out the way he wanted.
Cheongmyeong looked away as if he didn"t care, but instead smiled as if he was proud of himself for bringing the mooncakes. Then, as if he had a whip in hand, he slapped the hand of Jo Geol who tried to surreptitiously steal one of the buns.
“Tch, you will be another with ten times more training."
"It"s just a moon cake!" Jo Geol shed tears over the injustice.
“You have to be a patient to receive the right to taste these sweets, do you want me to make you a patient?”
That was not the only visit that day. The third, second, and first class disciples passed by briefly to confirm his state of health. Even the Sect Leader came in person to check if he really had rested again, as well as to let him know that if Cheongmyeong tried to force him to do any heavy tasks before he recovered, he could trust the Sect Leader to stop him.
He ignored the warm sensation like spiritual energy surrounding his chest, warming his heart, despite the intrigue that made him wonder how it was possible to feel so many things in one day. Clearly it was this body"s lack of mental discipline that had instilled these inconvenient habits.
At the end of the day, he did not know if he found himself more tired due to the weakened state of his own body or if it was the incessant visits that required his mental energy, but when he closed his eyes, his consciousness vanished into the sea of darkness.
Something gripped the fabric of the robe on his chest, causing him to narrow his eyes at the blurry face of a boy who looked vaguely familiar. The youthful expression on his face looked much more animated than the emptiness that Cheonma"s indifference brought. Pale blue eyes stared at him with determination, carrying some kind of knowledge that helped the boy focus directly on the form of his soul. This must be Baekcheon.
Then Cheonma extended his hand, touching the young disciple"s chest, where his heart should be, to slowly climb towards his throat and curling his fingers around it. Baekcheon"s lips parted, letting out a wordless cry. They both knew that the outcome of their encounter in this place would determine their future.
Baekcheon"s hands trembled, trying to push him away without success. His fingers reached out, glowing with hwasan"s distinctive red spiritual energy, clawing their way to Cheonma"s neck. Like an illusion, the splendid plum blossoms that carried the force of thousands of lives materialized in a straight line, following the path that a blossoming sword had laid out a hundred years ago. Cheonma"s head separated from his body with a clean cut, thus declaring the prevalence of the original Baekcheon.
It was the soul of a certain vengeful spirit that hadn"t left him at all even after reincarnating to haunt him once more to steal the future he had charted for himself, or perhaps just the unhealed wounds of a worthy opponent that couldn"t heal until they met again with drawn swords under the heavens. He would have to sever the intangible bond of causation that had bound them irretrievably lest it consume him first.
After his consciousness floated in a vacuum for undetermined time, he found himself waking up again in a different body than his or the Baekcheon disciple. The fan of lashes slowly opened, taking in the details of his surroundings once more.
“Seems like it wasn"t meant to be, plum blossom swordsmen,” Cheonma concluded, disappointed. The thick fragrance of plum trees was refreshing, bringing with it a kind of melancholic feeling that motivated him to pay attention to something fleeting as it was the spring. But the flowers were the facade for a sharp blade quivering on its axis to deceive the enemy"s eyes with its splendor. It was the opponent"s sword.
The next time they see each other, it will be on the other side of the battlefield, where the scent of plum blossoms will mix with blood. Perhaps then he will understand who Baekcheon was, as well as why his true identity was in danger of being exposed from the start.
After getting up, he made sure to tie his robe neatly over his clavicle, smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric.