In the realm of East Asia, five majestic mountains reign supreme. Near the Yellow Sea stands Tai San, the Great Mountain, while to the west lies Wha-san, the Flowery Mountain. To the north, one finds Hang-san, the Eternal Mountain, and at the heart, Soong-San, the Exalted Mountain, commands attention. The loftiest among them, the Mountain of Scales, graces the southern banks of the Tong-jong River, embraced by the Sang-gan on three sides, standing tall as if revered by the neighbouring summits. Seventy-two peaks soar heavenward, their spear-like tips piercing the sky.

Some cliffs rise sheer and precipitous, defiantly obstructing the clouds’ path. Their formation is a marvel that stirs the soul. Beneath their shadowy embrace, stores of fortune and good luck find sanctuary.

Amidst the seventy-two peaks, rise the noble Spirits of the South, Crimson Canopy, Pillars of the Sky, Rock Treasury, and Lotus Summit, five in grandeur. Their summits touch the heavens, cloaked in clouds, imbued with celestial grace. When skies darken, they vanish from mortal sight.

In ancient lore, when Ha-oo quelled the floods, he placed a stone atop one peak, bearing tales of miraculous feats. Cloud-script etched this memorial, enduring centuries with undiminished clarity.

In Chin Seo-wang’s era, Queen Wee, a celestial maiden turned Taoist by divine decree, and her retinue of cherubic youths and ethereal maidens nestled upon these heights, hence christened Queen Wee of the Southern Peak.

Countless are the marvels whispered amidst these mountain bastions, tales too myriad to recount.

Amidst the verdant hills of Joseon, where cherry blossoms danced in the spring breeze and the song of nightingales echoed through the valleys, there lived a priestess named Queen Wee (Seo-wang). She was revered for her wisdom and kindness, her heart beating in rhythm with the ancient land she called home.

One dew-kissed morning, as the sun ascended the heavens, Queen Wee embarked on a perilous journey with her twelve handmaidens. They left the southern peak, traversing the dense forest toward Tong-Jong, the Mountain of Scales. Their ultimate destination was the Flowery Mountain of Wha-San, three days away, where the legendary Phoenix flower bloomed once every hundred years. This rare flower held the power to heal any illness except death itself. Queen Wee sought it to save her beloved daughter Wu-Yang, who suffered from a mysterious, life-threatening ailment. With her silk robes flowing like a river of moonlight, she journeyed deep into the heart of Wha-san, the Flowery Mountain.

As night fell near the Crimson Canopy, the queen and her maids decided to rest. They ate sticky rice balls and fell asleep around a campfire. Queen Wee dreamt of a child, covered in blood and black soil, being handed to her with a trembling hand. The child’s cries grew louder, but she wasn’t even crying. The disturbing cry of the baby grew until Queen Wee awoke, shivering. Unease gripped her, and she roused her handmaidens to continue their journey through the cold night.

After passing the Crimson Canopy, they heard unsettling noises: flaring arrows, pounding heartbeats, and a screeching cry. A woman in a lavender Dangui tumbled out of hiding, her dark skin a startling sight to the queen. Her dishevelled hair and trembling body spoke of prolonged fear and exhaustion.

“Help me,” she pleaded in Korean, her voice filled with desperation. “They’re after me.”

“Who?” Queen Wee asked, astonished at the stranger’s ability to speak her language, while the maiden warriors could not help but notice the deep cuts on her body.

“Who is after you?”

“The palace guards and other warriors,” the woman cried, clutching her swollen belly as contractions seized her. “I’m from the city of Hang-san, the Eternal Peak. My baby... please, help me. My father-in-law, who’s the chief warrior, is after me.”

The woman managed to say in shaking breaths. Suddenly, she collapsed, and the sound of approaching footsteps spurred Queen Wee into action. Using her telepathic abilities, she quickly assessed the surroundings and ordered her warrior maidens to assist the woman. They hurried eastward until they found a cave, where they took refuge. Queen Wee used her powers to cover their tracks, weaving cobwebs over the entrance for further concealment.

Inside the cave, the queen tore a sleeve from her Dangui to bind the woman’s mouth as her contractions intensified. Her water broke, and two maidens comforted her while four guarded the entrance, ready for any threat.

Outside, the Chief Warrior Kim Seung-ho, in his dark blue durumagi adorned with intricate patterns symbolizing his rank, carried a sturdy, well-worn geom. He stood as a paragon of strength and leadership in the Joseon era. Towering over most men, his presence commanded respect and instilled confidence in his comrades. His physique was the result of years of rigorous training; his broad shoulders and muscular build were a testament to countless battles fought and won.

He noticed a scratch on the tree. Kim Seung-ho walked up to the spot, bent on his knee, and touched the red stain.

“It’s fresh blood.” He muttered and perceived it briefly. “Kim Seon-ya. We have to divide ourselves.” He ordered. “You there. You follow me!” He divided his warriors just as they matched around. It was past midnight. The night owls cried and frogs croaked in the distance.

It didn’t take long when Kim Seung-ho discovered the cave.

“They must be there.” Song Woo-jin, his deputy, suggested defensively.

Kim Seung-ho stepped closer. His face bore the marks of a seasoned warrior: a scar ran diagonally from his left eyebrow to his cheek, a souvenir from a fierce battle against bandits in the northern provinces. His sharp, piercing eyes reflected both wisdom and a steely resolve, ever vigilant and ready to protect his people. His long, jet-black hair, often tied into a topknot, added to his imposing appearance. The volume of cobwebs was thick. “It must have taken the spiders over five years to thread this.” He said, because of the way spiders hung in their webs. “She wouldn’t have gone so far. Let’s go.”

Just as the other warriors were about to depart, Kim Seon-ya, unable to bear the pain any longer, cried out loudly. Her veins poked out through her neck. She yelled out in the most excruciating pain. The muscles of the female warriors stiffened, ready to fight. Kim Seung-ho and his team of warriors turned back at once. The cry was familiar to their ears. They tore through the cobwebs and rushed in, and the fight began.

Kim Seung-ho shields out of his sword at once. It was an elegantly curved blade made of raw bronze. A family heirloom passed down through generations of warriors. Silk wrapped the hilt, and the guard of the Kim clan, a roaring tiger symbolizing bravery and power, adorned it.

With one strike. His poem whooshed through the neck of the first female warrior he encountered. Kim Seung-ho has a unique style of fighting. Swift and sharp.

“No! Kim Seung-ho will kill us all. Help me. Please!” Kim Seon-ya cried. Her hands held onto Queen Wee’s emerald-green Chima as she wept. Still in labour. Her eyes shut tight with gritted teeth as her body engulfed the pain. “Uhhhh!” She gasped in the pain.

The two other maiden warriors struck down four male worriers and seemed stronger. “Go, I’ll take over from here!” Queen Wee urged the maidens to face the warriors as she knelt beside Kim Seon-ya. “Look, it’s either you have this baby right now or die. We both might not be able to leave here alive, so push. Push harder with all the strength in you. And if the Lord of the heaven wishes, we’ll find safety.”

She retied the ribbon of her long-sleeved upper garment over her mouth while the sword clanging heightened in the background.

After a series of trials, the cry of the newlyborn child came to life. Queen Wee took off her jangot and wrapped the child in it. She took out a dagger from her green, voluminous Chima and cut out her umbilical cord. “It’s a girl, Kim Seon-ya.”

As Queen Wee stretched her hand forward to hand the baby to its mother, Kim Seung-ho placed his sword on her neck. “Hand that child over or lose your life!”

With shut eyes, she gently held onto her breath to hand the child over, Queen Wee was about to turn when the last guard that came along with the chief warrior dropped dead.

Turning to the direction, Kim Seon-ya stood over the bodies. “Face me, Kim Seung-ho! Or would you murder your grandchild the way you killed your son?”

“Kim Tae-Woo said you couldn’t handle a sword, but you’ve killed an army! I underestimated you, after all. You should have just given in but, you choose to be a rat till the end.”

“I won’t run this time, father-in-law. I’ll face you. I choose to stay.”

“Good.” Kim Seung-ho gave a throaty chuckle as if she cracked a joke. “If you win, I’ll hand you over to the king. You came into this city. Unfortunately, Kim Tae-Woo took you in all this while.”

His eyes studied how her body shivered under her long, silky garment. All are stained with blood. It would be a shame to face a weak woman... You slashed down so many people, cursed witch! You took all I have and left me in this dilemma. I have no other option than to take you to the king. My blade might spare you. Turn in now."

Kim Seon-ya blew dry sand onto his face and he dusted it off. She was able to grab a sword before realized.

In the dim light of dawn, amidst the mist-covered forest, Kim Seon-ya stood her ground with her pale face marked by determination. The moon reflected in the cave. They were able to see properly with a burning lantern the chief warrior had brought in. Opposite her was Kim Seung-ho. Queen Wee held onto the crying baby, saddled with the thought of the wasted lives of her warriors and how to escape if there was a chance. Queen Wee wasn’t good at martial arts, just good at healing with herbs and performing magic. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the distant call of a bird and the whispering of the trees.

Kim Seon-ya, despite her wounds, held her sword with steady hands, her eyes blazing with resolve. She had no choice but to fight; her life and honour were at stake. Kim Seung-ho, impressed by her bravery, raised his sword in a respectful salute.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Kim Seon-ya lunged forward, her blade aiming for Kim’s midsection. He parried swiftly, their swords clashing with a metallic ring that echoed through the forest. She moved with surprising agility, her attacks quick and precise, though her weakened state occasionally showed in a falter or heavy breath.

Kim Seung-ho countered with a series of powerful strikes, each one testing her defences. She deflected his blows, using her smaller frame to her advantage by darting in and out, looking for an opening. A particularly fierce exchange left both combatants momentarily locked, blades pressing against each other, faces inches apart.

“You fight well,” Kim Seung-ho murmured, admiration in his eyes. “But you cannot win. If you die by my sword, I’ll take your daughter to the king. And she’ll serve him as a slave all her life.”

“Not in your wildest dreams! My spirit will hunt you!” she replied, her voice hoarse but resolute. “I must protect my daughter from you.”

With a sudden burst of strength, she broke the lock and spun away, her sword slicing through the air in a graceful arc. Kim Seung-ho barely had time to deflect the blow, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He could see the toll the fight was taking on her; sweat beaded on her forehead, and her breath came in laboured gasps.

Determined to end the fight without unnecessary harm, Kim Seung-ho shifted his stance and launched a series of feints, aiming to disarm rather than wound. The woman, sensing his intent, fought back with renewed fervour, unwilling to yield.

In a final, desperate move, Kim Seung-ho overextended himself, wide and off-balance. Kim Seon-ya seized the opportunity, her sword flashed as she deftly knocked his weapon from his grasp. The blade clattered to the ground, and he stumbled back, panting.

“It is over,” Kim Seung-ho said softly, lowering his sword. “You have fought bravely. “Surrender, and you will be treated with honour.”

Kim Seung-ho, now unarmed and exhausted, fell to his knees, his strength spent. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with both defiance and resignation. “Will you kill me now?” A malicious grin spread across his lips.

Standing above him with the sword, unable to slash off his head, Kim Seung-ho collected the sword and slashed down Kim Seon-ya. She held onto her bleeding stomach as blood poured out of her lips.

“You talk too much as a man!” Queen Wee snatched his head with a stone from behind. He dropped dead at once. She walked to where she kept the baby and brought her over to her mother’s arm.

Kim Seung-ho must have forgotten that they weren’t alone. “Seon-ya!” Queen Wee held onto her hands. They were marble cold.

“Forgive me. I caused you so much trouble. Thanks for saving my life.” Kim Seon-ya smiled.

“Saving your life? I doubt if you’ll be able to make it to Crimson Canopy!” Her voice heightened with panic. “You’re bleeding all over and you thanking me?”

“You won’t understand.” Kim Seon-ya said, as her smile slowly faded. Looking at her baby as she silently cooed. “Take good care of my daughter. I don’t want her to go through what I faced.”

“I’ll take care of her, Kim Seon-ya.” A single tear rolled out of the corners of Queen Wee’s eyes as she felt pity for the young lady.

She gave her a red hand bead and doubled it on the baby’s right hand. Taking her hand from the baby, Kim Seon-ya’s hand dropped from the tough.

Kim Seon-ya lay exhausted, her breathing laboured after the strenuous birth. In her trembling hands, she held a delicate hand bead, a symbol of her heritage. With the last ounce of her strength, she placed it into the tiny, delicate hand of her newborn daughter. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she took her final breath.

Queen Wee knelt beside her, her heart heavy with sorrow. She gently closed Kim Seon-ya’s eyes, a silent prayer passing through her lips. With great care, she lifted the baby from the lifeless body of her mother. The weight of the moment was almost unbearable; twelve maiden warriors had given their lives to protect them. Tears streamed down Queen Wee’s face as she openly wept, feeling the enormity of their sacrifice etched into her soul.

The baby, oblivious to the tragedy, cooed softly, reaching out to touch Queen Wee’s face with her tiny fingers as if sensing the depth of her grief. Determined to honour the fallen and protect the newborn, Queen Wee stood and made her way towards the cave entrance. Her telepathic abilities alerted her to the approaching warriors. Acting swiftly, she conjured a thick mass of spider webs to cover the entrance, masking their presence.

Alone in the dense forest, Queen Wee navigated towards the Crimson Canopy, the thick foliage providing some cover from their pursuers. She dared not venture to Wha-San Mountain, fearing capture. Her powers aided her escape, guiding her to the southern peak where safety awaited.

Three days later, Queen Wee arrived home, only to be greeted with devastating news: her daughter, Wu-Yang, had died that morning. The sorrow that engulfed her was beyond words. She cradled Wu-Yang’s lifeless body, washing her tenderly. Dressed in a silk white robe, her black hair neatly packed, Wu-Yang looked peaceful in death. Queen Wee whispered a farewell sermon, her voice breaking with each word.

Upon entering the room, the nurse told Queen Wee that the baby was experiencing hiccups. “Bring her over,” Queen Wee requested, her voice tinged with exhaustion and despair. The baby, sensing the sombre atmosphere, tried to stifle her tears, her eyes shining with inexplicable light.

As Queen Wee held the baby close, a miraculous moment occurred. Wu-Yang coughed, her small body shuddering as life returned to her. The room filled with an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. Wu-Yang was alive, a testament to the resilience of life and the unbreakable bond between mother and child.