Zenith Temple, a temple built on Morning Sun Mountain north of Shaanxi.
Also known as Pure Brahma Temple, it had stood for over a millennium atop the rugged yet majestic peaks of Morning Sun Mountain, its clear bell tolls ringing out brightly.
Having endured the rise and fall of fortunes with steadfast resilience, Zenith Temple's atmosphere had lately grown remarkably lighthearted.
"How many times have you seen her today?"
"I've seen her twice!"
"Whoa... lucky bastard. I haven't even caught a glimpse."
Fresh-faced novice monks not yet twenty, and even child monks under fifteen, gathered together, chattering away in unison.
Their conversation flowed seamlessly despite the vague omissions—everyone knew exactly who they were talking about from the start.
The little beggar girl who had arrived a few months ago.
She had marched straight to the abbot, so they wondered if she knew him, but that turned out not to be the case at all.
Expecting to scold her harshly for her rudeness, they were surprised when, for some reason, the abbot took her in as a temple servant girl and allowed her to stay at Zenith Temple.
With the abbot's permission, the girl was blameless. Once she entered as a servant girl, bathed clean, and donned neat robes, it felt to the boys like the long winter had finally ended and spring had arrived.
Even now as early summer approached, the season in the boys' hearts remained eternal spring.
"I thought that girl from the Jang family in Morning Sun Village was the prettiest in the world..."
One child monk sighed deeply as he spoke.
The face of the girl he had mistaken for his first love overlapped with the temple servant girl's visage.
Though young in age and small in stature, her face was impossibly beautiful.
That was when he truly felt what it meant for breath to catch in one's throat.
The novice monk a bit older than the child monk chided him.
"What about some village girl? Hey, go to Shaanxi sometime. You'll see tons prettier than her."
"No thanks. Even the Shaanxi girls would look all the same next to her."
"...Yeah, you're probably right..."
Though the child monks who had received precepts were duty-bound to study the Dharma and overcome the seven emotions and six sensory desires through ascetic practice, how could the hearts of growing boys settle so easily?
The boys' springtime affections were burgeoning wildly alongside the unannounced spring breeze.
The problem was that resolving those affections had become an arduous path. Their eyes had grown far too high for mere village girls.
Perhaps this was all the abbot's scheme?
A ploy to plant a flower on an unreachable cliff, making the boys ignore roadside wildflowers entirely.
"I'd have no regrets if I could just say a word to her..."
"Pfft. I actually did talk to her."
"Yeah, sure. 'Um, uh, this...' counts as conversation, I guess."
"H-hey, I did talk to her!"
"You didn't even hear her voice—does that count?"
The novice monks bickered noisily over who had it better until suddenly, they all fell silent in unison.
As if by prior agreement, the novices extended a guiding hand to the foolish being who hadn't yet grasped the situation. In the end, they were all robes who followed the compassionate Buddha's Dharma.
Good things were meant to be shared.
Was this not the beautiful spirit of Zenith Temple?
And so, the young monks with hearts full of youthful longing rolled their eyes eagerly, stealing glances at the one who had stolen theirs.
Her once disheveled hair was now neatly combed and naturally flowing.
Her wondrously clear eyes, framed by long, lush lashes, held depths as profound and transparent as a lake.
Her pale cheeks, lacking the usual flush of young girls, resembled dawn frost.
Her small, slender frame seemed so fragile it might scatter at a touch.
Firmly pressed lips, slightly upturned eye corners, a nose drawing balanced lines—together, these formed an expressionless face that warded off any who dared approach.
She evoked spring just by sight, yet an enduring winter lingered around her.
Wi Sowol, the object of all the young monks' attention, felt their gazes but brushed them off indifferently.
It wasn't adaptation; she simply had little interest in those around her.
Enemy or not.
That was all that mattered to Wi Sowol.
In the midst of the child and novice monks' fascination, Wi Sowol crossed the temple grounds.
As a temple servant girl handling chores like meals and cleaning, much like a woodcutter monk, she was seen almost as the abbot's personal attendant since he had taken her in himself.
Today's task was telling. Learning she knew how to read, the abbot had assigned her to copy sutras, and Wi Sowol was just finishing up.
With the copying done, she could rest, but instead, Wi Sowol headed straight for the abbot.
Normally, she would have returned to her quarters. Her Great White Light True Qi still had far to go. The Nine Yin Absolute Meridian's yin energy continued filling her body, gnawing at her life force.
There was much to do, yet Wi Sowol made for the abbot's guest reception hall, Byeonyeon Hall.
'An expert.'
The presence that had roughly shaken her qi sense upon arrival was there.
Zenith Temple had no martial monks. It meant they did not cultivate martial arts.
Thus, those practicing martial arts at Zenith Temple were limited to a few visiting devotees and Wi Sowol herself.
However, Sichuan was a land where Daoist sects like Mount Hua Sect and Mount Zhongnan dominated. It was the first time such a high-caliber martial artist had visited Zenith Temple.
Moreover, the aura inside Byeonyeon Hall felt deeply familiar to Wi Sowol.
From an encounter less than half a year ago.
"Abbot. I have completed the task you assigned."
Wi Sowol spoke before the hall's stone porch.
The paper door slid open, revealing Abbot Deung Hwa's face.
"Well done. You may retire and rest now."
Curiously, Deung Hwa, abbot of the venerable Zenith Temple, used honorifics even with a mere servant girl like Wi Sowol.
A demeanor befitting a great monk who had mastered the nine precepts.
"Is there no other task?"
"Did you read the sutra I asked you to copy well?"
"I read it."
"Then why not meditate on it? Afterward, we could share our understandings."
"Yes. I shall do so."
The gentle, kindly old monk and the stiff, curt girl.
Their brief exchange between old and young was quite striking.
Enough to prompt an eavesdropper to speak up.
"A word, if you will."
A flicker of light crossed Wi Sowol's eyes.
As expected.
The same as that night hand who had pointed her here.
The middle-aged man, appearing around forty, sat in the sacred temple hall with ominous weapons at his side.
One sword and one saber.
This unique armament of one sword and one saber was famous enough that few in the jianghu knew it not.
The sword and saber etched with red dragons were signature weapons boasting renown across the land.
Crimson Dragon Sword and Fiery Dragon Saber.
Even their user's moniker derived from them.
'Crimson Blaze Twin Dragons. Seon Woo Hoon.'
Super-elite master of the Seon Woo Clan.
'If we fought now, certain defeat.'
With a few more years, perhaps not.
Wi Sowol was merely laying the foundation of Great White Light True Qi.
In her mind flashed Seon Woo Hoon's sword-and-saber forms from her past life.
A thrust sword targeting vitals, hiding a saber strike behind.
'I'd have to yield one.'
A hole in her body, or lose a limb.
"Who might you be?"
Wi Sowol sensed ill intent in the question.
A readiness to strike without hesitation if needed.
His innate wanderlust, coupled with eccentric behavior unbefitting a jianghu elder, always followed Seon Woo Hoon like his twin divine weapons.
He spent twice as many days roaming outside as at the Seon Woo Clan, a man who could readily draw steel even in a sacred temple.
Wi Sowol pondered her response.
But it was not she who answered.
"She is a child I took in as temple servant. With Shaanxi still rife with wounds and pain, mustn't this poor monk do what he can?"
Deung Hwa said, waving Wi Sowol off to return.
Wi Sowol paused briefly, bowed to him, and departed.
Seon Woo Hoon did not stop her.
Not for the abbot's face, but respect for his old friend's choice.
Yet he could not leave it unasked.
"Who is that child? Caught up with the likes of us?"
The likes of us.
Meaning martial artists.
This suggested Seon Woo Hoon had discerned much of Wi Sowol in their brief encounter.
That she had trained in martial arts.
And even killed people.
"Seems so."
"My friend. This is no light matter. She's dangerous."
Deung Hwa was a scholarly monk.
He wouldn't worry over some half-baked thug.
From Shaolin's scholarly monks, even without personal practice, one learned by osmosis.
But that girl was different.
Hard to pinpoint exactly, but a super-elite master's intuition was evidence enough.
"No need for concern. She's been here months. Trouble would have come already."
"Hm..."
"Let's talk about your nephew instead. Found a cure for the blocked meridian?"
"Not so simple."
"What of Life and Death Medicine?"
Seon Woo Hoon sensed Deung Hwa wished to drop the girl topic and relented, though uneasy.
In the end, he trusted his few dear friends.
Even after Deung Hwa withdrew, Seon Woo Hoon pondered the girl he had just seen.
She was beautiful.
He had seen countless famed beauties of the jianghu, titled flowers or lotuses.
Yet upon seeing her, he immediately thought so.
If she grew as is, she would surpass them all by far.
More astonishing still was not her youthful bloom.
'She has trained in martial arts.'
She bore the unmistakable bearing.
Composed posture.
Steady gait.
Deep, measured breaths.
Serene qi presence.
No one would believe it, but Seon Woo Hoon glimpsed stillness amid motion in her movements.
Even a sudden strike with his sword would not have taken her head.
"Can't leave it like this."
Seon Woo Hoon shot to his feet.
Before he knew it, Crimson Dragon Sword and Fiery Dragon Saber hung at his waist.
"I need to confirm."