Part 41 - Heavenly Slaughter Star
[This child was born beneath the Heavenly Slaughter Star.]
It was like a bolt from the blue.
[No matter what anyone says, his fate has already been decided.]
It was an unavoidable pronouncement.
[This child's life will surely become a road that piles mountains of corpses and makes seas of blood.]
It was a story too horrific to bear.
The old woman who had acted as the midwife spoke those words to the mother, and they tore the mother's heart apart.
[You must make a decision.]
In the old woman's eyes dwelled a mystery she could not conceal.
She was no ordinary person.
Both her hands were covered in sorcery tattoos, etched in a foreign tongue.
'Not Sanskrit… and a language even I don't recognize.'
Yeon Sang-hyeon thought.
[...Do you think this child… must be killed?]
The mother was beautiful enough to shame the moon.
It was hard to believe she had just given birth—she possessed a refined, delicate beauty.
But her complexion was far too dark.
Right now, she was being urged to kill her own child.
[...He must be killed.]
The old woman hesitated as she read the mother's face, but in the end she spoke in a firm tone.
[Even for the sake of the world.]
This was not a matter where personal feelings could come first.
[My baby….]
The mother looked at the child.
Tears welled in her beautiful phoenix-like eyes.
'Do I have to die…?'
Sang-hyeon asked.
'...Because I was born under the Heavenly Slaughter Star?'
But they couldn't hear him.
After agonizing again and again, the mother finally spoke.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, yet a majesty radiated from her—one no one dared approach.
[This is an order.]
Her stern gaze turned to the old woman.
[Find a way to save this child.]
The old woman bowed her head deeply and received the command.
If her master desired it, she had to accomplish it—no matter what.
Sorceries she had studied for over a hundred years flashed through her mind.
[This child… I will raise him with my own hands into a righteous and good child, no matter what.]
'And yet the mother who said that… left my side far too soon.'
Sang-hyeon spoke.
Still, they could not hear his voice.
Because this was a dream.
A dream that had slept for a long time within his unconscious.
A memory he had forgotten until now.
***
Before he knew it, the background changed and the scene flowed onward.
[Young master, no matter what happens, you must never commit murder.]
The old woman pleaded earnestly.
[If you do, every sorcery I have laid will shatter and scatter, and your fate will be placed beneath the Heavenly Slaughter Star once more.]
Already wrinkled all over, the old woman now looked as though she'd aged decades in just a few years.
It was proof, in the clearest way, of how much sorcerous power it had taken to weave sorcery capable of deceiving the Heavenly Slaughter Star.
[You needn't worry.]
Yeon Sang-hyeon's mother smiled brightly.
[This child will become a scholar. He's only two, but he already clutches books and won't let go. He's astonishingly intelligent.]
Through the crack of a door, the young Yeon Sang-hyeon could be seen lying face-down and reading.
For a moment the old woman watched him with gentle eyes.
But soon she could only look at her mistress with a sorrowful gaze.
[Miss… I am an old woman who has devoted everything to you, so I can die anytime. If I die for your will, that is great blessing. Even if I die hundreds of times, I would die gladly.]
The old woman's voice trembled.
[But you, miss, you….]
Sang-hyeon's mother smiled softly.
And yet, for some reason, there was little life in her face.
[How much time do I have left?]
Dew gathered at the corners of the old woman's wrinkled eyes.
Her gaunt, stooped body shook as she trembled.
[As the price for such a great rite, there was no need to use even your life, miss.]
Anger seeped into the old woman's voice.
[Things not worth living. Filth that only gnaws at the world—if you had used their lives instead, then you would have—!]
Yeon Sang-hyeon's mother shook her head firmly.
[To save my child, I cannot take another person's life as the price.]
[But if we took the lives of those who treat others' lives so lightly, even the heavens could not dare blame you!]
[Even if the heavens forgive it, I cannot accept it. It would be shameful.]
Sighing, the old woman prostrated herself and paid her respects.
Her mistress was steadier than anyone, and possessed endless goodwill.
That was why the old woman—who had feared no one in life—had devoted all that remained of her days to serving her.
[...So how much time do I have left?]
The old woman could not lift her head.
Her tears fell onto the marble floor, leaving stains.
[...It will be hard to last beyond two more years.]
Sang-hyeon's mother walked up slowly and gathered the old woman into her arms.
[That child will never harm anyone. Our Sang-hyeon's fate will be protected at the price of my life. A mere star cannot rule Sang-hyeon's destiny.]
The old woman sobbed.
[The young master will grow into a truly great person. Surely—surely he will become a great scholar.]
***
The child grew and grew.
He grew into a boy who respected life, cherished people, and loved nature.
In his mind he thought what was right, and with his mouth he spoke good words.
So bright was he that, helping his mother, he even saved countless lives.
But in the end, that day came.
[Sang-hyeon… my Sang-hyeon. Will you grant your mother one last request…?]
Young Sang-hyeon lay at his mother's side, holding back his sobs.
[...Of course, mother.]
Though the will of heaven was stern, and Yeon Sang-hyeon's mother should not have been able to surpass two years, she displayed a will to live like a superhuman.
All for her child.
So that, even a little more, the child might grow up properly.
But even that had a clear limit.
Now she was preparing to meet her end.
[From now on, you….]
To a child who must carry on the line of the Sword Clan—could she, as a mother, dare tell him he must never grasp a sword?
Or should she tell him he must never kill anyone, and must live only as his mother had taught him?
Was that a good final testament?
She closed her mouth.
Instead, she looked at her one and only beloved child.
Her gaze, as she watched young Yeon Sang-hyeon—clutching his mother's hand tightly with his small hand—was full of love.
The shape of Yeon Sang-hyeon's eyes looked just like hers.
Within those big, sparkling eyes was nothing but gentle, warm qi.
What admonition did such a child need?
Her son was growing exactly as she had wished.
Clean and clear, like dew on grass at dawn.
Sang-hyeon—true to his name, a bright and wise child.
Feeling an ache in her chest, she smiled as brightly as she could.
[...That's enough. Mother only wants to tell you this.]
She squeezed out her last breath and held Sang-hyeon tight.
[Mother truly loves our Sang-hyeon.]
And then she passed away.
Tears burst from young Sang-hyeon's eyes.
Within the clan, mournful wails filled the air.
All of Luoyang mourned.
There was no one in Luoyang who had not received her kindness.
Everyone in the Central Plains Nation who had ever heard her name grieved.
Even those who did not know her name—countless people had received the grace of life from her, and among them none failed to know her sobriquet.
Pan So-yu, Age 27 in the flower of youth.
A descendant of the Medicine Immortal who revealed herself to the world.
She created remedies remarkably effective against the three epidemics that were most terrifying and widespread at the time, and she did not hide their methods of preparation—she published them openly.
Those methods were composed entirely of common medicinal ingredients found in fields and mountains, so that even the poorest could obtain the medicine.
Even the medical treatises she compiled and released during her lifetime amounted to twenty-five sets—over a hundred volumes.
Regardless of wealth or poverty, rank or station, she accepted only those with talent and sincere will as her disciples.
Thus she taught countless disciples and sent them out into the world to care for people who were ragged and starving.
Her name rose high enough to reach even the Imperial Palace; though the royal family repeatedly invited her to become a royal physician, she refused again and again and remained by the side of the common folk.
As for the number of people she had aided and relieved across her life, it could not even be counted one by one.
So the people praised and revered her, calling her Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, and some even said she was the manifestation of Bhaisajyaguru, the Medicine Buddha.
A virtuous person without equal thus departed this world.
All said it was because heaven needed her, and so took her early.
To honor her, the royal house had shrines erected throughout the Central Plains Nation—so wherever one went, one could see a shrine that enshrined her.
Each year, on the first day of the first lunar month, people lined up before those shrines to pray for their families' health.
***
Watching it from afar, Yeon Sang-hyeon began walking again, continuing on his way.
Something caught under his foot, and he looked down.
With a crack, what snapped beneath him was none other than a human bone.
And it wasn't the only bone buried in the ground.
The entire road he walked was made of bleached bones.
He lifted his head and looked around.
Corpses not yet rotted formed mountains, and in the distance blood flowed, becoming rivers.
The sky was dyed red, yet the sun could not be seen—only blade-like wind swept in.
He looked down at his hands.
Hands stained with blood.
Not the blood of one or two people.
Blood dripped and ran, soaking the ground.
Perhaps that river of blood flowing in the distance began from his own hands.
He started walking again.
There was no longer any road back.
All he could do was keep walking the road he had begun.
A road no one walked.
A road no one dared walk.
[This child… I will raise him with my own hands into a righteous and good child, no matter what.]
He had already died once.
And by The Ruler Of Darkness, he was brought back.
The great rite his mother had unfolded with her own life as collateral had already shattered into nothing.
[Mother….]
The end of that road could not be seen.
And his steps did not stop.
Now, no one would be able to stop his footsteps.
[Mother, I'm sorry.]
He pushed forward through a wind that seemed to flay flesh.
The sound of the wind was like the wailing of ghosts.
Swept away by the viciously cold north wind, that whispered apology soon vanished without a trace.
Chapter 02
Swordless.
Opening.
In order for the light to shine so brightly the darkness must be present.
— Francis Bacon (1561.1.22–1626.4.9)