The Eldest Daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan Protects Her Family

Chapter 32: A Fortunate Encounter

Sohwa frowned. She felt like she was missing something, but she couldn't quite grasp it.
Yeon-a lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper. "I know I'm not as valuable to the Tang Clan as the Divine Physician. But I have potential. You recognized it yourself. That's why you asked Elder Tang Min to recommend me to a sect, why you gave me this… this wonderful sword…"
Sohwa’s gaze fell to the floor, where droplets of water were falling steadily. It wasn’t rain. Yeon-a was crying.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, then looked up, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't understand. You see my potential, and yet, you don't need me…"
“…”
"I want to be useful to the Tang Clan. Please, tell me what I can do. I want to help!"

The rustling of bamboo filled the brief silence.
Tang Sohwa smiled faintly, her red lips parting slightly. "Do you need to be used to feel valued?" Her voice, cold and dismissive, cut through the air, piercing Yeon-a’s heart. "Even if you did, I wouldn’t care.” Her cruel words were delivered in a gentle tone. “I decide who is useful to me. If you need to be used by someone to feel worthwhile, that’s your problem, not mine.”
Yeon-a bit her lip, her eyes flashing with defiance. “The elder said I have the potential to become one of the greatest swordsmen in the world. Why would you say I’m not needed?”

Though she had pointed out a contradiction, the clan heiress simply frowned. "I should be asking you that question. Even if you become a skilled swordsman, why would I need you?"
"I could be your guard…"
"The Tang Clan is a martial arts clan. Anyone who can't protect themselves, who needs to rely on a guard, is unworthy of being a direct descendant.” Though that description perfectly matched Sohwa herself in her past life, she didn’t mention it.

Yeon-a hesitated, then continued, “You never know. You might need me someday. There might be dangerous places you can’t go yourself, or difficult opponents you can’t face alone…”
“I don’t need to sacrifice another’s life in my place.”
“That’s easy for you to say now, safe and protected. You’ll change your mind when faced with death.”

Tang Sohwa smiled.
A strange silence descended.
After a long moment, she asked, "Have you ever faced death?"

“What?”
“How can you be so certain you’ll change your mind?” Though she was smiling, her voice was cold.
Both Tang Sohwa and Yeon-a had chosen death. Yeon-a had sacrificed herself for her, and Sohwa had thrown away the life she had been given.
A chilling coldness settled in her chest. ‘To survive on borrowed time, indebted to another's sacrifice… how could that be better than death?’ She would have found peace if she had died that day in Sichuan. But she had been forced to live, enduring a year of hell.

Of course, it wasn't this young girl's fault. But it was still… unsettling. This child was the type to sacrifice herself for others.
She had saved her from Namgung Hyeon, and now, she was offering to do the same for her.
Sohwa pulled a small cloth from her sleeve. It had become a habit, carrying them around for the twins, who were always spilling something, and for Tang Hak, who cried at the drop of a hat.

She approached Yeon-a, their gazes meeting, a subtle difference in status despite their similar height. She gently wiped the tears from Yeon-a's eyes, a comforting gesture, like an older sister soothing a younger sibling.
Yeon-a’s eyes widened at the unexpected touch, but she didn't pull away.
Sohwa’s gaze, however, remained cold and distant. “Do you feel indebted to me? Is that why you want to repay me?”

Yeon-a hesitated, then nodded.
“And since you have nothing else to offer, you’re offering your sword in my service.”
Yeon-a’s cheeks flushed with shame.

Sohwa withdrew her hand. “To be honest, I don’t think I need you.”
“Miss.” A warrior entered the hall, addressing Tang Sohwa. “The Namgung Clan has arrived.”
She glanced at him, then nodded slightly, placing the damp cloth in Yeon-a’s hand. “I graciously accept your debt. If I ever need your help, I’ll be sure to ask.”

“…”
“Though I doubt that day will ever come.” With a faint smile, she turned and left the hall.
Yeon-a, clutching the new sword in one hand and the damp cloth in the other, stood speechless.

Sohwa’s words, meant to sever the tiresome cycle of debt and obligation, were misinterpreted.
‘You’re not useful to the Tang Clan now. But…’ A fire ignited within Jeomchil’s eyes. ‘Become someone useful, and return!’ The misunderstanding sparked a strange resolve within the young warrior’s heart.
The maid approached her. “You’ll catch a cold. I’ll have a warm bath prepared for you. Go and change your clothes.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary!” She shook her head vehemently, her eyes shining with a newfound determination. “I want to see Elder Tang Min! Can I see him now?”
The maid smiled wryly. “I’ll inquire. Please go and change. You’ll need to be properly attired to meet with the Elder.”
“Yes, please!” She followed the maid, her steps quick and purposeful. She was impatient, but unlike before, her steps were firm and steady.

* * *
 

“Take this if you experience any stomach discomfort. Apply this to any wounds, then cover them with this ointment. And this is for…”
“I know, Physician. Don't you remember who helped you prepare these?”
Jincheol coughed awkwardly, embarrassed by his fussing. “Of course, of course. The Wudang Sect has its own medical pavilion. There’s no need for such excessive preparations. Jeomchil-ah, if you feel unwell, just visit the medical pavilion.”

“I understand. Don’t worry.”
“Ahem.” Tang Min cleared his throat, seeing Jincheol’s continued reluctance to let Yeon-a go.
She took a step back, sensing his impatience. “Don’t worry. I’ll visit even after I become a Wudang disciple. I heard they often send disciples on missions to other regions, especially those assigned to the branch offices!”

“It’s not that easy to be assigned to a branch office, child. Don’t get your hopes up.” Tang Min interrupted them. Only the most distinguished members of a sect were chosen for such assignments. He was a prime example. Being sent to the Martial Alliance wasn't a reward for exceptional skill. It was often a way to keep troublesome or embarrassing members out of sight, hidden away from the clan's affairs.
“Elder Tang Min.” Tang Sohwa, unable to bear it any longer, called out to him. “Have a safe journey.” Despite her polite words, her tone was cold and dismissive. It was a clear message: Leave them alone.
“If we’re late, we’ll have to sleep on the streets. Do you expect an old man like me to endure such hardships?” At his words, Jincheol, startled, gently pushed Yeon-a forward. “Go on, now. Go quickly. Sleeping on the streets is bad for your health.”

“Yes. Take care, Physician.” Yeon-a’s eyes were filled with tears as she finally turned to leave. Sohwa thought she was going to Tang Min, but she stopped in front of her.
She thought Yeon-a was going to say goodbye. But then, she suddenly clenched her fists.
…It was a bad sign.

“Miss, please remember this.” Her voice, as expected, was filled with a strange intensity.
Sohwa’s brow furrowed. “…Remember what?”
“I will become someone useful to the Tang Clan!” She thumped her chest dramatically. “I will… I will consume the Wudang Sect and make them useful to the Tang Clan…!”

Tang Min quickly clapped his hand over her mouth, but Sohwa’s cold gaze was already fixed on him.
“What was that about?”
“Ah, don’t mind her. Just some… encouraging words from a senior. I told her not to say such things outside!” He glared at Yeon-a, who avoided his gaze.

Sohwa sighed and turned to Yeon-a. “Miss, though I appreciate your enthusiasm… I wouldn't repeat those words at the Wudang Sect.”
An unsettling name flashed through her mind. Wungil, the "Taegeuk Sword Saint," one of the Heavenly Ten Swords. In twenty years, Yeon-a would defeat him, the Wudang Sect’s strongest warrior, one of the top ten swordsmen in the world.
She was worried. The polite, respectful Yeon-a she knew had, in her past life, brutally defeated a master of Wungil’s caliber. They clearly didn’t get along.

Unsure whether revealing this information would be helpful or harmful, she decided to offer a warning. “And try to avoid… Sword Saint Wungil.”
“What?! I’m personally escorting her so she can become his direct disciple!”
“What are you talking about?” Sohwa, who had been preoccupied with other matters, looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

He puffed out his chest, a proud smile on his face. “Naturally, a master of my caliber has extensive connections within the martial world. Don’t be so surprised.”
“Sword Saint Wungil is accepting a direct disciple?”
“He’s looking for someone who meets his standards, regardless of age. He’ll be delighted with this little one.”

… ‘Meets his standards?’ In the future, this “little one” would defeat him, humiliating him before the entire martial world. She looked at Yeon-a skeptically. Yeon-a didn't seem like the type to disrespect her master. ‘What is the nature of these relationships…?’ It seemed Sword Saint Wungil would retain his title in this life.
Sohwa frowned, bewildered by the twisted, unpredictable nature of relationships within the martial world.
“Alright, let’s go.”

As Tang Min released Yeon-a, she exclaimed, “Remember! If anything difficult happens, please let me know! I’ll definitely come and help you! Don’t forget me!”
“I will. Now, be safe.”
Sohwa waved her hand dismissively as Yeon-a, following Tang Min, walked backwards, waving enthusiastically.

Perhaps this, too, was a fortunate encounter.
As they finally left the hall, Sohwa let out a sigh of relief. The strange, tangled web of relationships within the Tang Clan was momentarily at peace.
The sun was setting, casting a warm, gentle glow over the outer walls of the estate.

“Miss.”
Sohwa turned at the maid’s voice. “Young Master Namgung requests a private audience.” She bowed her head respectfully.