Chapter 12 — Sword God Appears

The road from Thanh Lang Uyen to Tran Ha Chau lasted nearly three days, passing through many sparse forests and low hills stretching like waves. Bach Trinh chose to follow less traveled paths, avoiding main roads where the Ghost Police Department might have placed followers, even though that meant the journey would be more difficult and take more time.

Dieu Vy and Xuan Dao, who were used to a sedentary life at the pharmacy, struggled to walk long distances in the first few days. Both of their feet were blistered after the first day, but both sisters still gritted their teeth and endured it without a word of complaint, making Bach Trinh secretly admire their determination. He used the money he brought to rent two horses at the citadel gate, giving them both to Dieu Vy and Xuan Dao to take turns riding, while he himself walked alongside, occasionally stopping to check the surrounding situation, making sure no one was following.

At noon on the first day, when stopping by a small stream to rest, Bach Trinh took out some forest leaves, crushed them and applied them to the blistered feet of both Dieu Vy and Xuan Dao, explaining that this was a folk remedy he learned from his years living in Tuyet Phong Coc, helping to relieve pain and prevent infection. Dieu Vy watched him do it expertly, and couldn't help but be surprised at the sophistication and thoughtfulness hidden behind this man's quiet, taciturn appearance. "Who did you learn medical magic from?" she asked, trying to make conversation to forget the pain in her feet. "Just self-taught through books and experience from years of living alone in the mountains and forests," he replied briefly, not wanting to tell more about the long lonely nights of having to treat himself every time he was injured during trips to hunt wild animals.

In the afternoon, as she continued on her way, Dieu Vy sat on horseback, admiring the mountain and forest landscape stretching on both sides of the road, her heart gradually calmed down compared to the fearful days in Thanh Lang Uyen. Perhaps, she thought, it was Bach Trinh's steady presence by her side that gave her a sense of security she had never felt since the day her mother passed away, a feeling of protection that she had longed for a long time without even realizing it.

The first night, the three stopped to rest in a thin forest away from the main road. Bach Trinh built a small fire, enough to warm up without attracting the attention of those who might be looking for them. Xuan Dao, tired after a long day of trekking through the forest, curled up and fell asleep right next to two horses tied nearby, her steady breathing mixed with the chirping sounds of insects, leaving Dieu Vy and Bach Trinh a private silence next to the fire. Dieu Vy sat next to the fire, her hands hugging her knees, her eyes looking at the flickering fire, thinking about what had happened over the past few days. She turned to look at Bach Trinh, who was sitting quietly sharpening the blade next to him, the firelight illuminating his face with alternating streaks of light and dark.

"Sir," she spoke, her voice gentle, "this young lady still doesn't understand clearly, why in the past you and this young lady's father were so close? Can you tell this young lady about those days?" Bach Trinh stopped sharpening his sword, his eyes looked distantly at the fire, then began to recount, slowly and nostalgically, about the years with Thanh Phong practicing swords under the moonlight, practicing chivalry together, and sharing bowls of cold rice on long trips.

He told about the time they and Thien Ba were lost in the deep forest for three days and three nights, about how Thanh Phong gave a small portion of food to his two disciples to the point of fainting, about the nights Thanh Phong sat next to him and encouraged him when he failed to practice his sword. His voice when telling those memories carried a rare warmth, making Dieu Vy feel the sincere feelings that Bach Trinh had for her father, a feeling that went beyond the usual fraternal relationship.

"This young lady's father must have been very proud to have a junior brother like you," Dieu Vy said, her eyes slightly teary. Bach Trinh shook his head, his voice suddenly lowered: "No, I am the one who should be ashamed. If I had come in time that day, perhaps things would have been different." He recounted, for the first time in detail, about the fateful night at Vong Hon Alley, about his late arrival, about Thanh Phong's last words that he never fully fulfilled.

Dieu Vy listened silently, tears rolling down her cheeks, not because of blame, but because of sympathy for both of them, for her father who sacrificed himself for a great cause, and for the man in front of her, who had carried the burden of imaginary sins for eighteen years. "Sir, it's not your fault," she said, her voice surprisingly firm. "If this young lady's father were here, he certainly wouldn't want you to torment yourself like that all these years. He sacrificed himself because he wanted to protect the people he loved, and you were one of them."

Dieu Vy's sincere words were like a warm breeze blowing into the coldest corner of Bach Trinh's heart, where he had imprisoned himself for nearly two decades. For the first time in many years, he felt that the burden in his heart was partly shared, not by advice from old friends, but by the daughter of his deceased brother, who had every reason to resent him but chose to be tolerant and understanding.

Dieu Vy also told him about the difficult years after her mother's death, about how she had to learn how to dispense medicine from the small notebook her mother left behind, tinkering with each failure, and there were nights when she mixed the wrong dosage, causing the patient to come back and complain, making her so embarrassed that she didn't dare leave the house for several days. Bach Trinh listened, occasionally laughing at her funny stories, and in that moment, he felt a rare sense of relief, as if the burden of the past was temporarily being put down to make room for the simple joy of the present.

"Sir, have you ever thought about not returning to Tuyet Phong Coc again?" Dieu Vy suddenly asked, her voice a bit timid. Bach Trinh paused for a moment, his eyes looked at the dying fire, then replied slowly: "I don't know yet. That place has been my home for the past eighteen years, but perhaps, after this trip, things will be a lot different." He did not say more clearly, but his eyes when looking at Dieu Vy seemed to implicitly answer that question more clearly than any words.

The two sat by the fire until late, the story gradually shifting from the past to the present, from pain to plans for the future. At one point, Dieu Vy laughed out loud at one of his clumsy jokes. The clear laughter echoed in the middle of the night forest, causing Bach Trinh to stop, look at her longer than necessary, then quickly turned away to look at the fire, her hand involuntarily tightening her grip on the hilt of her half-sharpened sword. He realized that, during this short journey, a new feeling, different from the brotherly love he once had for Thanh Phong, was gradually growing in his heart, a care that went beyond simple protective responsibility, making him both surprised and somewhat confused by his own feelings.

In the following days on the road, the two gradually became closer, no longer keeping a polite distance like the first days of meeting. Dieu Vy learned how to make a fire, how to find clean water in the forest from Bach Trinh, and he learned how to listen patiently, how to share his feelings, which during eighteen years of living in seclusion he had forgotten how to do. There were moments of silence between the two that no longer felt forced, but became a peaceful understanding, as if they both realized something was growing between them without having to say it out loud.

On the afternoon of the third day, when the three were near Tran Ha Chau, Bach Trinh suddenly stopped and signaled Dieu Vy and Xuan Dao to be quiet. He had felt someone watching from afar for the past half a day, even though he deliberately took a detour to avoid being detected. He pulled them both to hide behind a dense bush, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes carefully observing the surrounding forest.

Dieu Vy held her breath, her heart pounded, her hands clasped her shirt tightly, trying not to make any noise that could reveal the group's hiding location. Xuan Dao crouched close behind her, both hands clutching the hem of her shirt, trying to hold her breath so as not to cause any more negligence. Dieu Vy glanced at Bach Trinh, saw that he still maintained an unusually calm expression, his sharp eyes observing each other's smallest movements, and in that moment, she felt much more secure, as if as long as he was by her side, all dangers, no matter how big, would have a way to be overcome.

A moment later, three gray-clad figures appeared from afar, moving cautiously in the direction they had just passed, clearly following the group's trail. Bach Trinh immediately recognized that these were people from the Ghost Shadow Police Department. Perhaps he had discovered that they had left Citadel Lang Uyen and tried to chase them all the way here. He signaled Dieu Vy to keep absolutely silent, waiting for the right opportunity to act, secretly thinking that perhaps it was time to face directly those who were constantly threatening the peace that they were both trying to find again.