About Two Years and Ten Months Later
Word had spread—of two immortal brothers who had appeared at the corrupted Mingrang Monastery. The younger had exposed the false sage for what he truly was, and the elder had vanquished the demon said to dwell within the ancient peach tree.
Guided by these rumors, Gami and her family journeyed into Yimul Forest.
What remained of the Mingrang Monastery was nothing more than ruins. Its buildings had collapsed into moss-covered stone, and the once-sacred grounds were now a place of curious silence. Only the massive peach tree still stood—tall, proud, and eerily serene, as if nothing unnatural had ever touched it.
Now, the only visitors were those escaping the summer heat—locals resting on woven mats beneath the tree's shade, sharing small treats as they lay in the peace and quiet, unaware of the blood once spilled here.
Finding no sign of Goi, the family began to turn back.
That was when little Dui pointed.
Sui followed his gaze to a small wooden sign, half-hidden by the underbrush. It read, "Sanctuary of the Younger Immortal."
Zeali raised an eyebrow. "Goi always traveled alone. It might not be worth—" But Gami was already walking toward the path without a word.
"Eh? Niece-in-law—wait!" Zeali called after her, beckoning two nephews along. "Come on. Let's go."
At the end of a winding trail, they found a gentle clearing beneath a low stone ridge. A brook babbled softly nearby, and a breeze danced through the leaves. Half-collapsed and nestled into the slope was a small, weathered hut—barely more than sticks and thatch.
And there, standing in front of it, was a swordsman.
Not yet twenty, but tall and broad of shoulder, his presence was unmistakable. He turned as they approached, assuming they were just more tourists come to enjoy the forest's shade, and politely stepped aside.
When Gami bowed in thanks, the young man returned the gesture. But as his gaze shifted to the boys behind her, he froze—his eyes locking onto Dui and Sui with a startled stillness.
Zeali gave a friendly wave as he stepped forward, though his hand never left the hilt of his sword.
Gami was examining the old hut when the young swordsman finally spoke, his voice careful, courteous.
"Pardon me," he said, bowing his head, "but… may I ask something?"
Gami smiled. "Of course. Ask anything."
His eyes returned to the boys. "Do you… happen to know someone named Goi?"
Dui perked up instantly. "He's our big brother! You know our brother, mister?"
The young man's face lit with quiet joy. "I thought you looked just like him… My name is Mulgeza. Goi—your brother—saved my life."
It had been nearly three years since that day. Mulgeza had grown taller, stronger. A soft beard darkened his jawline now, and his stance had settled into the weight and grace of a seasoned warrior.
He led them behind the hut to a wide, flat stone shaded by pine, where they all sat together. There, beneath the filtered sun, he began to recount everything.
How Goi had found him. Saved him. Fought beside him.
As the story unfolded, Gami leaned in, her expression gentle, curious. "May I ask… what led you to this place in the first place?"
Mulgeza nodded solemnly—and began to tell her of his past. Of injustice, exile, of a father flogged to death. He spoke without embellishment, without pride—only with quiet grief.
When he finished, no one spoke at first. Gami, Sui, Dui, and even Zeali sat in shared silence, hearts aching with him.
Mulgeza blinked back tears. "It's been so long since I felt… like family," he murmured. After a stretch of quiet sobs, Mulgeza wiped his eyes and let the silence settle.
"Forgive me."
Gami reached out and clasped his hands, eyes warm. "You don't need to ask forgiveness."
Then, drawing a steady breath, he resumed his tale with a faint, incredulous shake of the head.
"That wretched sage," he said, voice tinged with both bitterness and awe, "told me to climb to the top of that peach tree and fall backward—like one would recline into bed. He said it was the way to attain true faith. What a bullshit I'd never heard of!"
Dui's eyes widened. "That peach tree back there? But… it's so high!"
Mulgeza nodded grimly. "He claimed it would prove my devotion. I told him he was mad—what kind of enlightenment requires me to risk my own skull like that?"
Sui tilted his head. "So that's when you drew your sword?"
"I did," Mulgeza replied with a sigh. "And paid dearly for it. I was gravely injured and ended up spending a full year recovering here… in this very hut."
Dui leaned forward eagerly. "Wait—then did our brother Goi stay with you here the whole time?"
A bittersweet smile touched Mulgeza's lips. "My brother nursed me back to health… but only stayed about a month. Then he vanished, as quietly as he had appeared."
"But why do you call him my brother?" Dui asked, brows furrowed.
Mulgeza let out a chuckle.
"While I was recovering, I asked how old he was. When I learned he was older, I insisted on calling him as my brother. I told him I wouldn't accept his help unless he let me."
Gami's eyes lit with amused curiosity.
"And he agreed?"
"He didn't give in easily, Sister-in-law," Mulgeza said with a smile. "I had to pester him endlessly. I refused food, refused medicine, and even tried crawling away on my own. Finally, just to shut me up, he swore a brotherhood bond with me."
At that, Gami reached out and clasped Mulgeza's hands in hers—gentle, yet firm, as if welcoming him fully into the family. Touched beyond words, Mulgeza bowed low from where he sat, pressing his forehead to the earth in a deep, reverent gesture.
After a while, their laughter returned, light and healing.
"But seriously," Gami teased, "with such a fine younger brother as you… maybe Goi's forgotten about me."
Mulgeza waved his hands in a fluster.
"No, sister-in-law! I swear, every night he played tungso, the flute."
Zeali raised an eyebrow.
"Tungso? Our Goi?"
Mulgeza grinned.
"He played the same tune, night after night. I once asked him what's the name of the song was."
"And what did he say?" Dui asked eagerly.
Mulgeza shook his head slowly, a trace of fond amusement in his voice.
"Our brother, Goi... he always had a way of answering in the strangest ways when asked about something," he said, the memory bringing a faint smile to his lips. "When I asked him about the tune, he only said there had once been someone who loved it deeply the moment of hearing it. He hadn't yet learned to play… so he never had the chance to share it."
Sui leaned forward. "Do you remember the tune?"
Mulgeza nodded and began to hum.
It was quiet, unpolished—but the moment Gami heard it, something inside her trembled.
She gasped, hand to her heart. "That's… that was the song they played at our wedding."
Zeali gave a deep nod, his voice warm with relief. "That's good to know… Seems our Goi still holds Gami close to his heart."
Gami, tears on her cheeks, picked up the melody where Mulgeza left off—humming, then singing softly.
Her voice, clear and trembling with emotion, drifted past the crumbled hut, past the brook, and out into Yimul Forest.
The wind carried it far.
And in that breeze, it was almost as if someone far away had paused, turned, and smiled.