By Zephyria 
The sound of the strings ringing out once more was like a slender thread rather than something heavy, and this, too, caressed Mu-gyeong’s body as if tickling it. Listening to the simple sequence of notes, Mu-gyeong took in every detail of Ho-yeon’s appearance.
Sitting on a flat rock, Ho-yeon seemed ready to begin his performance; he met Mu-gyeong’s eyes and gave a slightly shy smile.
“This is my first time playing in front of another person.”
Since the ice dragon was not a person, he wasn’t lying. Ho-yeon mentioned he was nervous and took a moment to steady his breath. Mu-gyeong felt a sense of regret even at the sight of his white breath scattering in the air.
Until now, Mu-gyeong’s desires had remained solely within the realm of the stage he had to achieve. He had practiced demonic arts simply because he was born into the demon sect; even if he had been born into one of the Nine Schools and One Gang, his obsession and competitive spirit toward martial arts would have been the same.
He had said he would live differently from the Cult Leader, but he had never once awakened emotions such as longing or affection. Even Cheon Beom-yeong, the First Young Master who was utterly obsessed with women, had seemed nothing more than pathetic to him.
Regarding the seven-stringed zither, it was said that Eum Yohwa’s performance was the greatest of all time. Her beauty was so exceptional that rumors of her spread throughout the entire Central Plains. There was a famous anecdote about Song Seon, the “Flower Beggar” and head of the Beggars’ Guild’s Luoyang branch, who secretly entered the hundred thousand great mountains to see Eum Yohwa, only to go missing; he emerged from the demon sect’s magic array three months later on the verge of starvation.
However, neither Eum Yohwa nor anyone else had ever captured Mu-gyeong’s attention. Mu-gyeong was confused. Where did this desire to possess Wi Ho-yeon originate from?
The underground cave of the eternal snow mountains was not much different from the demon-taming cave. It was a confined space, and fasting pills were the only thing to eat.
While the demon-taming cave had a monster, this place was inhabited by the ice dragon, a being even more formidable. Ho-yeon could not have been happy as those around him died off one by one. He likely felt the pain more deeply than anyone.
Wi Ho-yeon was a completely different kind of being from anything Mu-gyeong had ever seen. Were all people of the North Sea born with such a gentle nature? But Mu-gyeong knew that couldn’t be the case.
Wi Ho-yeon was simply Wi Ho-yeon. It was a stroke of heavenly luck that he was the one to discover the hidden Wi Ho-yeon. He didn’t know why the ice dragon had looked after Ho-yeon, but surely that beast had found this being lovely as well.
Even at a glance, the seven-stringed zither in Ho-yeon’s arms was no ordinary object. A subtle luster flowed through the cracks of the strings weathered by time, and the surface was as smooth as well-polished jade. If Eum Yohwa had seen it, it was a rare treasure she would have coveted even if she had to kill Ho-yeon for it.
The same went for the Go board. Carved from a single piece of agarwood, the four corners of the board were shaped like tigers supporting the legs, the kind of piece high-ranking officials or giants of the Central Plains would use. The lines of the board were even inlaid with gold thread. The silk for embroidery and the snow leopard pelt used instead of a bed were all of the highest quality.
The pelt was at least the size of three or four snow leopards, and its long, thick tail suggested how massive the predator had been. The ice dragon had likely hunted a spiritual creature of the snow mountains.
Despite that, seeing that it hadn’t prepared any food, the beast was nothing more than an animal devoid of any delicacy.
Mu-gyeong now had one more reason to kill the ice dragon. He did not want to share Wi Ho-yeon with anyone else.
Once they went outside, the first thing he would do was place braziers along every path Wi Ho-yeon walked. Since the sight of him frozen red in various places was heartbreaking, he intended to ensure Ho-yeon never shivered from the cold. And although he had never tasted it himself, he would carve out pieces of something called snow-fish—which supposedly steamed with heat—and serve them in easy-to-eat bites.
‘What if the ice dragon lied about my playing being excellent?’
Ho-yeon was more nervous than ever because of Mu-gyeong, who was staring at him with intense red eyes. It felt as if Cheon Mu-gyeong was applying a strict standard, watching to see just how great a performance he could deliver.
“What I said earlier about playing reasonably well… I didn’t mean I’m actually great at it, just that I play often. Don’t expect too much.”
The long excuse sounded meager.
“I thought you were already finished.”
Mu-gyeong teased him for the few times he had plucked the strings to tune the notes. As Mu-gyeong smiled somewhat mischievously, Ho-yeon felt a hot flame suddenly spread through his chest.
“That was…! I was just tuning the notes.”
Ho-yeon cleared his throat, signaling that he would truly begin playing this time.
“What are you going to play?”
“High Mountain! I like the piece called High Mountain the most.”
Having learned the seven-stringed zither as a child following his mother’s hobby, Ho-yeon loved the anecdote of Boya and Zhong Ziqi the most. And High Mountain was the title of the piece Boya was said to have played.
“Do you also know who Boya and Zhong Ziqi are?”
“No.”
Ho-yeon’s eyes sparkled at the fact that there was something he knew better than Mu-gyeong, who was excellent at everything.
Boya was a player of the seven-stringed zither, and he envied nothing in the world because he had Zhong Ziqi by his side, a companion who truly understood his music.
When Boya thought of a high mountain and played, Zhong Ziqi would marvel that it was as magnificent as Mount Tai; when he played flowing water, Zhong Ziqi would share the music deeply, saying it was like the majestically flowing Yellow River.
However, when his only understanding companion, Zhong Ziqi, died of illness, Boya was overcome with grief, broke the seven strings of his zither, and never played again. Thus, the parting of friends was thereafter called ‘Boya breaking his strings.’
Ho-yeon softly told Mu-gyeong the story of Boya and Zhong Ziqi he had heard from his mother. Finally, he abruptly brought up the words he truly wanted to say.
“I hope we can become close friends, like Boya and Zhong Ziqi.”
“Friends.”
Mu-gyeong uttered the foreign word. Ho-yeon nodded in agreement. Cheon Mu-gyeong frowned slightly. By comparison, he would be the listening ear, Zhong Ziqi, but no matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine a scenario where he died first.
Mu-gyeong, muttering to himself that Ho-yeon would be the one to leave the world first, stopped his train of thought. If he fed him plenty of expensive spirit medicine, there was no way Wi Ho-yeon would die early.
Having reached a satisfying conclusion, he plopped down on the floor facing Ho-yeon. He had to look up at Ho-yeon, but he didn’t mind.
“Wi Ho-yeon, I have no intention of becoming friends with you.”
Ho-yeon looked utterly shocked, as if he had been struck by a bolt from the blue.
“I—I know we need more time to get to know each other. Even if we can’t be like Boya and Zhong Ziqi… we can still be friends.”
“I’m not the kind of guy who provides a place to live and carries out revenge for a mere friend.”
It was an ambiguous statement. If one only listened to the words, it sounded as if he wouldn’t do those things for a friend, but only for someone more special. Was there a relationship more intimate than friendship? To Ho-yeon, only family came to mind.
Contrary to Ho-yeon, Mu-gyeong realized what his feelings for Wi Ho-yeon were by speaking them aloud. The answer was already there in the fact that he felt the urge to be kind to another man with the same parts as himself.
“If you keep stalling, I’ll start expecting more.”
“I’m doing it now!”
Before Mu-gyeong could expect more, Ho-yeon lowered his gaze to the seven-stringed zither. He focused instantly, and his nervous expression vanished, leaving only the appearance of a proper performer.
The seven strings held the frost energy and emitted a cool light. As his thin, long fingers plucked the strings, a sound that broke the silence scattered into the air. The resonance of the strings filling the large cavern was not cool, but rather tender and warm.
The melody born from the fingers gliding over the strings was sometimes passionate, like a storm-tossed sky, and sometimes quiet and clear, like the white plains of the North Sea. As the performance gradually reached a crescendo, Ho-yeon’s swaying hair looked like the flowing melody itself.
Listening to the piece representing Mount Tai, the hundred thousand great mountains came to mind, and the shape of the eternal snow mountains, which he hadn’t been able to fully capture in his eyes, seemed to be drawn.
He had never heard Boya’s playing, but if Zhong Ziqi had been like him, he surely would have had these thoughts.
That he would not want to show or let anyone else hear the sight of the zither being played.
Cheon Mu-gyeong felt as if he were stealing a glance at an immortal playing strings in the celestial realm. Since he happened to be sitting in a low place, his situation seemed all the more ridiculous. He had grandly promised to provide a home and carry out revenge, but now, unable to even find a way out, he had become a man who was all talk.
As Ho-yeon gently pressed down on the strings at the end, a slender sound filled the cavern, leaving a lingering resonance. Though the melody no longer flowed from the strings, the afterglow of the sound Ho-yeon left remained in Mu-gyeong’s ears.
“Wi Ho-yeon.”
“Yes?”
“I will definitely become the Cult Leader.”
He would not remain a man who was all talk. Mu-gyeong firmly declared his ambition to Ho-yeon. Having mastered the heavenly demon divine art and reached the extreme demon realm, the current Cult Leader was by no means his match.
Ho-yeon, unable to even ask for the impression of his performance, stuttered, “Cu—Cult Leader?” Was not the Cult Leader the one who stood at the peak of the demon sect?
“And you will become the Hall Master of the eumbyeol hall, responsible for all the artists of this cult.”
Ho-yeon pointed to himself, utterly surprised, asking, “Me?” He felt embarrassed, wondering if his performance had been that great, but at the same time, he was incredibly happy.
“You are destined to be recorded as the most beloved being of the heavenly demon, far beyond any comparison to Boya and Zhong Ziqi.”
Sitting on the floor, Mu-gyeong flashed a confident smile.
However, what was the difference between the Cult Leader and the heavenly demon? Ho-yeon was curious, but he couldn’t ask.
Because although he was looking down, it was strangely as dazzling as looking up at the sky.