Delicate C2

Chapter 2

Ten years ago, it had been Dam Ik-cheon’s unwavering decision to single out Dam Yun from among his many illegitimate sons and appoint him as Dam Sosa’s Substitute Conscript.

Lady Tae, the Dam Clan’s principal wife and General Tae’s elder sister, had also been unusually supportive of the decision. She was the sort of woman who valued her own son above the interests of the clan. There had to be another motive behind her continued tolerance of Dam Sosa’s secluded life.

“Besides, don’t you already have countless ornaments like this? If you’re truly upset, I’ll give you another one later.”

Knowing the circumstances, Dam Yun couldn’t agree with a single word the general said. No matter how prettily he dressed it up, it sounded like nothing more than manipulation.

“Stop wasting time and kill the evil spirit. I’ve told you repeatedly—a few dead soldiers are none of your concern!”

General Tae steered the conversation back to its original topic and ended it with a threat.

As if making it clear he had no intention of arguing further, he wrapped the Pixiu ornament back in its silk cloth and tucked it tightly against his chest.

Dam Yun said nothing more and withdrew.

Since the order supposedly came from Prince Mokjin himself, he had to at least appear to obey. As for surrendering the Pixiu ornament so easily…

…that was simply because he intended to retrieve it another day.

Arguing here would accomplish nothing. General Tae would only continue spouting polished rhetoric while refusing to return it.

Stealing it back would likely be the more effective approach.

Besides, something else weighed far more heavily on his mind.

For days now, an invisible sense of calamity had lingered in every direction—a sinister omen hanging silently over the world.

Was this truly the time to send soldiers marching toward certain death?

The wind outside the military office was fierce.

It sounded exactly like the freezing gale that howled through the Wailing Valley.

Dam Yun let out a long breath.

Yet the storm within his chest refused to settle.

Long ago, in the beginning of the world, there existed the Primordial Qilin.

Its form was said to be so majestic and wondrous—as though every living thing had been woven into a single body—that no mortal words could adequately describe it. Legend held that the heavens, the earth, and even the seas had all originated from its true form.

In the age when the Primordial Qilin watched over the world, every beast of mountain and sea lived together in harmony, harming neither one another nor mankind. That peaceful era came to be known as the Age of Gentle Winds and Banquet Moons.

But the days of gentle breezes and tranquil moonlight did not last forever.

For the God of Calamity and Pestilence rose to power.

Corruption and defilement seeped ever deeper into the world, and dark, malevolent energy gradually consumed the land. Misfortune spread across every mountain and river until, at last, the mortal realm descended into chaos.

Determined to restore order, the Primordial Qilin severed one of its own hooves and cast it down upon the earth.

The hoof fell into the Abyss of Heaven and Earth, where it split into tens of thousands of branches, each becoming a new Divine Beast.

Though none equaled the Primordial Qilin itself, each possessed miraculous power capable of sundering the heavens and rending the earth.

Together with humanity, the Divine Beasts drove back the God of Calamity and Pestilence along with every corrupt and unclean force. They purified the mountains and rivers, each choosing a land to protect and establishing the boundaries of the human world.

The lands chosen by those Divine Beasts eventually became the nations that exist today.

Like drops of white oil scattered across black water, the territories blessed by the Divine Beasts spread like islands amid a world overrun by evil spirits, each becoming a kingdom unto itself.

For that reason, venturing alone into the Wasteland had always been regarded as an act of near-certain death.

Among the best-known nations were Hwan in the east, Cheonrang in the northwest, Juyeon in the southwest, and Yung in the south. Strictly speaking, the northern regions of Sira Mountain and Garyeom Lake were not kingdoms, but they were generally counted among the protected lands as well.

Most people lived beneath the protection of one Divine Beast or another.

That did not mean everyone within a single nation worshipped the same guardian.

The Divine Beasts born from the Primordial Qilin’s hoof were far too numerous to count. People followed different Divine Beasts according to their own traditions, and it was rare for them to persecute one another simply for serving different deities.

Cheonrang, in the northwest, was no exception.

The people protected by the Heavenly Wolf were known as the Cheonrang People.

They possessed one peculiar trait that had been passed down since ancient times.

Another name for the Heavenly Wolf was Baekmong—the White Dream.

Thus, every true Cheonrang was born with white hair.

Dam Yun had inherited only half of that bloodline.

His father was a pure-blooded Cheonrang who served the Heavenly Wolf, while his mother had been a wandering woman devoted to a Fox Divine Beast.

As a result, Dam Yun’s pale hair carried an extraordinary luster, gleaming like polished silver.

The bitter wind brushed through those silver strands as he stepped out of the military headquarters.

How stifling.

General Tae’s voice still scraped against his ears.

Without thinking, Dam Yun simply walked wherever his feet carried him.

He vaulted over the rear wall of the fortress in a single bound and sped along the southern mountain trail that led toward the cliffs.

The winter mountains were barren.

The branches stood naked without leaves, while the thawing and refreezing slopes glistened black beneath the weak sunlight. Patches of lingering ice made the footing treacherous, but Dam Yun’s steps never once faltered.

In a single breath, he reached the cliff’s summit.

Then he stopped.

Far below, beneath a cliff over thirty zhang high, a waterfall that had remained frozen until only recently now roared with rushing water.

Even though frogs should still have been hibernating in the depths of winter, the clear stream had welcomed spring alone.

Dam Yun regarded the strange sight with suspicion before eventually looking away.

It’s only a waterfall.

What did that matter?

He sat upon the familiar sun-warmed boulder and continued grumbling to himself.

What am I even doing here?

His gaze drifted over the edge of the cliff.

Beyond the winding river stretched the endless Wasteland—the forsaken land abandoned by the Divine Beasts.

Ten years.

For ten long years, he had fought on battlefields in his younger brother’s place because of his father’s insistence.

Without ever being allowed to speak his own name aloud…

…he had become nothing more than a blade that slew evil spirits.

How much longer must I live like this?

When he was twelve, his father had promised him a different future.

A place beneath a roof where he could lay his head.

A life where he would no longer wander beneath rain and wind.

Where is that peaceful life?

Had the past decade truly been lived for his own sake?

Or had he merely been tempered into a weapon for the Dam Clan?

How much longer…

How much longer must I live under someone else’s name?

Dam Sosa.

 

The name that had become famous across foreign kingdoms for exterminating evil spirits—the Heavenly Ghost—was never truly Dam Yun’s.

Dam Yun was merely a Substitute Conscript, serving his military duty in place of the Dam Clan’s legitimate heir, Dam Sosa.

Under Cheonrang’s One Soldier Per Household system, every family was obligated to provide one member for military service. Naturally, the powerful always found loopholes. Noble families commonly sent illegitimate sons or adopted children in place of their true heirs.

Those who served in another’s stead were collectively known as Substitute Conscripts.

Twelve-year-old Dam Yun, left alone after losing his mother, had become one of them.

“Fulfill your duty. Do that, and I will secure your future.”

Those had been his father’s final words before sending him away.

Of course, had Dam Yun died or been crippled in battle, he would simply have been discarded and replaced by another substitute to serve in Dam Sosa’s name.

Fortunately, Dam Yun possessed extraordinary martial talent.

He had merely swung his sword to survive in the spirit-infested Wasteland, yet each passing day added to the next until those countless days became a mighty river.

Before he knew it, he had become a renowned general whose name inspired awe even beyond Cheonrang’s borders.

As Dam Yun’s reputation soared, so too did Dam Ik-cheon’s fortunes.

Once nothing more than the landlord of a remote village, his father eventually rose to become the Lord of Yeongnyeong Prefecture.

The Tae Clan, the family of Lady Tae, also played no small part in that rise.

For generations, the Tae Clan had distinguished itself through military merit and stood far above the Dam Clan in status. It was thanks to Lady Tae’s elder brother—then serving in the military—that Dam Yun had been accepted so easily as a Substitute Conscript.

The problem was…

…that very same man had become Dam Yun’s commanding officer two months ago.

How suffocating.

Amid the roar of the waterfall, Dam Yun let out another long sigh.

His thoughts drifted to the story General Tae had mentioned almost casually.

The Dragon of Hwanguk.

According to rumor, the Divine Beast that governed the dawn could soar across the heavens, reaching every corner beneath the sky.

Perhaps because he had lived his entire life bound by invisible chains, Dam Yun always felt a strange excitement whenever he saw birds, butterflies, kites…

…or even a Pixiu.

Each one seemed to embody the freedom to leave this world behind.

Among them all, nothing surpassed a dragon.

The mere thought of it made the knot in his chest loosen.

For a long while he sat upon the boulder, gazing blankly into the distant sky as though hoping to catch sight of the path a dragon had flown.

As if mocking that fleeting wish…

…instead of a dragon, something suddenly dropped straight out of the sky.

“…A scops owl?”

A tiny owl, looking like a sodden bundle of dead leaves, was being swept helplessly downstream.

Even more astonishing…

…Dam Yun recognized the ugly little bird.

“Oolk!“

The owl spotted him and cried desperately, opening its oversized beak.

But the edge of the waterfall was already only moments away.

“…!”

Before Dam Yun could even throw himself forward, the bird disappeared over the precipice.

Everything happened in an instant.

Leaping to his feet, Dam Yun kicked off the rocks without hesitation and raced toward the base of the cliff.

The waterfall thundered endlessly.

A thick veil of mist rose beneath the tremendous torrent, icy spray soaking his clothes as freezing air bit through the fabric.

He followed the riverbank at full speed…

…but the owl was nowhere to be seen.

Anxiety tightened in his chest.

“…Oolk…“

The faint cry echoed once more.

Following the sound upstream, he arrived beneath the waterfall again.

Squinting through the dense mist, he finally spotted it—

a tiny bundle of feathers struggling directly beneath the crashing water.

It was the owl.

Dam Yun tore off his outer robe and was just about to dive into the water when—

he froze.

The deep, black pool hidden beneath the curtain of mist…

That was where the owl had fallen.

At some point, even the deafening roar of the waterfall seemed to fade into the distance.

…

He had once heard that beneath great waterfalls lay abysses carved by countless ages.

And in those depths…

…lived Imugi.

The thought flashed through his mind so suddenly that his body stiffened.

Then he shook his head, as though dismissing the absurd idea.

An Imugi? Don’t be ridiculous.

He had come here almost every day for the past two months.

He had never seen an Imugi.

He had never even seen a water snake.

The eerie silence was surely nothing more than an illusion created by the thick mist.

The poor owl continued flapping desperately, only to be forced beneath the water again and again.

Even so, it was remarkable that such tiny wings had carried it this far.

Without another thought, Dam Yun discarded the rest of his outer garments.

His padded coat landed on the ground with a dull thud.

Dressed only in his inner robes, he plunged headfirst into the churning water.

The river, fresh from winter’s grip, was so cold it felt as though it sliced into his flesh.

Swimming against the current toward the waterfall proved even more difficult.

Unlike the owl, strangely fixed in place beneath the falling water, Dam Yun was repeatedly pushed downstream.

Only after exhausting himself did he finally reach the mist-shrouded base of the falls.

The spray was so violent he could barely keep his eyes open.

At last, he reached out…

…and caught hold of the little owl that had fought so stubbornly to survive.

Swish.

Something seemed to move beneath the dark water below his feet.

…The current?

Putting the thought aside, Dam Yun gathered the owl into his arms first.

Utterly exhausted, the little bird didn’t even have the strength to cry.

It simply clung to him like a drenched rag.

The waterfall continued to roar.

Now all he had to do was leave the current.

Relaxing his body, he prepared to let the river carry him away.

Then his expression froze.

Only now did he understand why the owl had been unable to escape.

The water beneath his feet held him fast—

like a swamp.

“…!”

No matter how powerfully he kicked…

…he couldn’t break free.

Both he and the owl were being dragged steadily back beneath the waterfall.

The torrent crashed over his head as freezing water surged violently into his nose and mouth.

In the end…

Still clutching the owl tightly against his chest…

Dam Yun was pulled completely beneath the surface.

…

Below the black water, only the muffled sounds of bubbles remained.

His feet touched nothing.

The pool was so deep he couldn’t even guess its bottom.

Countless bubbles drifted upward while his silver hair floated gently around him like strands of waterweed.

His airway burned.

He continued sinking into the endless darkness.

Yet his face remained unnervingly calm.

Holding the owl securely with one arm, Dam Yun raised his free hand to his mouth.

He was about to draw blood and perform a spirit art—

when…

Far below, within the bottomless abyss…

Something opened its eyes.