Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Stench or Fragrance (4)
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“Treasure, huh.”
Hong Junak didn't lose his smile.
“Yeah, treasures tend to pop up out of nowhere by nature. That's part of why every treasure map in the martial world drives people insane.”
“Not uncomfortable just for moving spots, are you?”
“Uncomfortable.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. I've been riding the household servants hard for days now, all to receive you properly. Do you have any idea how much they've suffered?”
“You only sent your son this morning, but you've been at it since days ago?”
“I was convinced we'd cross paths for sure.”
Murong Bi smirked.
“Fate, huh. Nice, so long as it's not the bad kind.”
Hong Junak neither hardened his expression nor showed any displeasure.
“Yeah, how about a drink by that rock over there?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Tsk, when the patriarch's garden pavilion is ten times more beautiful than that.”
“We'll have business again later.”
“Haha, that we will.”
They conversed with smiles, but a subtle tension lingered in the air.
Hong Myeong, who had been trailing silently behind Hong Junak with his presence all but erased, let out an inward groan.
'Gotta hand it to him.'
To speak his mind so boldly—saying what should and shouldn't be said right in front of his own father—was no easy feat.
Especially when that father had an innately domineering temperament, one made even fiercer by 'that martial art.'
“One last thing. You're really going to take my cup there? My place looks better no matter how you slice it.”
“I like it there.”
“Why not at least check it out first?”
His expression stayed the same, but the tone subtly probed.
Murong Bi's smile deepened.
“Got something hidden away in your residence?”
“Beauty and comfort.”
“Not ruthlessness and cruelty?”
“Haha, this is my home. I can be ruthless anywhere, cruel anywhere.”
A natural clash of auras unfolded.
Murong Bi jabbed a thumb toward the rock.
“If it's all the same anywhere, then get ruthless and cruel over there.”
“Hahaha!”
Hong Junak burst into booming laughter.
“Hit me right there. Good, let's do it.”
He led the way, with Murong Bi and Hong Myeong following behind.
The swordsmen had halted their training and lined up in formation. They couldn't very well pretend not to notice the patriarch's arrival.
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Our swordsmen. I heard coming over that their training postures didn't match the main house's standards.”
“They'll snap back into shape now.”
“What about your clan? Do they stop training when the patriarch shows up?”
“They'd get beaten till they wail for such nonsense.”
“Why's that?”
“Warriors with no urgent business—why halt their training? Hell, if they're truly immersed, they wouldn't even notice who came by.”
“Fair point.”
Hong Junak spoke with a serene face.
“Do Kang.”
“Yes! Patriarch!”
The instructor overseeing the swordsmen's training snapped to attention.
“Cut off one wrist.”
Do Kang's face drained of color.
Hong Junak's expression never wavered.
“Don't you have to shoulder the blame for failing to train the swordsmen properly?”
The atmosphere turned savage in an instant.
As Do Kang dithered, Hong Junak's gaze sharpened.
“Ignoring the patriarch's command?”
“N-no, sir!”
Shing!
Do Kang drew his sword and pressed it to his left wrist.
His eyes, trembling as badly as the blade, went bloodshot in a heartbeat.
At that moment, Murong Bi spoke up.
“Shouldn't the leader reflect first?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“How out of touch with family matters do you have to be not to even notice the state of your warriors? Before their faults, the leader's comes first.”
Hong Junak erupted in roaring laughter.
“Makes sense for a small outfit like House Murong, but a main house our size? Not so simple.”
“Handling the not-so-simple stuff—that's the leader's job.”
“Oh ho?”
“Well, to each their own thinking.”
Hong Junak turned to Hong Myeong.
“Murong young master says so—what's your take, Division Leader Hong?”
Hong Myeong bowed at the waist.
“Idealistic words, but reality's a different beast, I believe.”
Hong Junak shifted his gaze back to Murong Bi.
“He says so?”
“Folks yapping about 'reality' always hit a narrow ceiling. Most've just gotten a taste for excuses—or only care about their next meal.”
Hong Myeong's jaw clenched.
Hong Junak eyed Murong Bi with an odd look before turning to Do Kang.
“He says my fault comes before yours.”
“N-no, Patriarch! It's mine...!”
“Haha, if you cut off your wrist, I'd have to take my own share of blame too—how's that any use?”
“Ah...”
“Sheathe the sword.”
Do Kang bowed deeply and slid it home. Undeniable relief washed over his face.
“From now on, don't stop training even if I show up. Come to think of it, young master Murong's got a point. You're the main house's strength soon enough—getting even a bit stronger benefits us all, no?”
“Y-yes! I'll engrave it on my heart!”
“Resume training.”
“Yes, sir!”
Do Kang got the swordsmen back to it.
“Shall we?”
“After you.”
Moments later, the two settled on the flat rock.
Hong Junak unwrapped his bundle.
“Too far to fetch fine food, so I brought some jerky I fancy.”
“Perfect.”
A rather large, ornate liquor bottle came into view.
Murong Bi's eyes lit up.
“Oliang Liquor, eh?”
“Whoa, you know it?”
“I was the talk of Wuhuan for my drinking.”
“Hahaha! Fair enough. Here, have a cup.”
The liquor poured crystal clear and shimmering.
“Fill mine too?”
“No trouble at all.”
Murong Bi topped off Hong Junak's cup.
Not a shred of courtesy. He poured one-handed, casual as filling a buddy's glass—pure free spirit shining through.
Hong Junak took no offense at the attitude.
“Cheers.”
Clink.
The glasses rang out especially crisp.
Both drained theirs at once, a satisfied “Kya~” escaping their lips.
“How's the taste?”
“Strong as hell, but the aroma matches it.”
“People are the same. Not fierce? Not a real man. A true man's scent draws folks in.”
“Like guys, do you?”
“You're giving off something similar.”
Hong Junak's mouth corner lifted.
“And just as dangerous.”
Tension thickened again with the drink.
“First time really talking, but I've caught you staggering drunk a few times. Thought each time, pathetic bastard.”
“Still pathetic.”
“Turned out not. You've been fooling the world all along.”
Hong Junak's gaze intensified.
Invisible pressure crept in, bit by bit, bearing down on Murong Bi.
“Broke Lady Hwang head-on? No easy feat. At your age? Near impossible. Mastering arts that level in no time? Forget it.”
“You think?”
“If possible at all, just one way.”
“This jerky's damn good.”
“Demonic art.”
Murong Bi, chomping away, refilled Hong Junak's cup.
Hong Junak left his untouched. He simply stared, eyes deep and viscous.
“No demonic art, impossible. But you... no traces on you.”
“Mind if I snag some jerky? For the sisters back home.”
“I'll pack you a bundle.”
“Big-hearted folks earn respect.”
“Either way—no demonic art means you've honed first-rate martial arts for years.”
Hong Junak leaned forward.
Like a snake craning its head.
“Heard you told that Hwang Inhwa girl there's a sanctuary in House Murong?”
“Did.”
“Fateful tie?”
“Not much fun to it.”
“Can't hear it as payback for the fine booze?”
“Family secrets? Ten bottles of Oliang at least.”
“Story's already half out. One bottle do?”
“Knowing it exists and knowing what's inside? Different beasts.”
“One more bottle?”
“Too soft on the punk who walloped your daughter?”
Hong Junak roared with laughter.
“Gave her a proper thrashing. Fine work. Man's got no eye for people, might catch a beating. Sparing his neck's plenty.”
“Straight shooter.”
“Owe you thanks instead. Second boy's learned the world's bite—bet he'll grind his teeth and train now.”
Murong Bi smirked.
“Tell him train hard and beat the bloodline first.”
“...!”
Hong Junak's face went stone-cold.
“You mean me?”
“Beating you? Takes years. And then what?”
“...”
“No brother like the big one, right? Topple him first, then send the kid.”
“...Does Division Leader Hong look stronger than the second?”
Murong Bi met Hong Junak's eyes steadily, then refilled his own cup.
“Sisters'll hate the booze smell, but this aroma... can't stop.”
He dodged the question.
Or rather, skipped the words—but it amounted to saying he knew it all already.
Hong Junak panicked inwardly.
'This bastard...'
Truth was, he'd sensed something off moments ago.
'Unaffected by Red Snake Energy?'
Since settling on the rock, he'd fully unleashed the Red Snake Miraculous Art, pounding away with aura nonstop.
Any normal joe would've been smashed face-first without a clue; even solid inner power would've shrunk 'em, eyes averting.
Yet here was Murong Bi, utterly unfazed—no hitch in word or deed.
And he'd clocked the eldest's arts outstripping the second's?
“What arts are you cultivating?”
“We ain't soulmates—bluntly asking's rude, no?”
“You don't strike me as the type to care.”
“Nailed it, but not spilling today.”
“Why not?”
“Mood.”
“That's...”
“Funny coincidence, though.”
Murong Bi's face flushed red.
“Got me curious about your arts now, Patriarch.”
A smile crept back onto Hong Junak's face.
Slightly, very slightly awkward.
“Unlike you, I'm the cautious sort—can't just blurt it out.”
“Feeling hot?”
“Hm?”
“Face all rosy. Running a fever?”
“Ah, the drink's got me...”
Murong Bi turned to Hong Myeong.
“Your boy's feverish too. Hasn't touched a drop, but sweating buckets in this chill?”
“...”
“Born with a fierce yang constitution, looks like.”
Hong Junak's eyes narrowed.
“Feverish, the eldest.”
“Yang so potent even inner power can't cool it... Teach him matching arts, and he'll grow into a monster.”
“...”
“Or balance it with heavy yin tonics?”
His pulse spiked on instinct.
A primal response inner power couldn't stifle.
Couldn't gulp outright, so he raised the cup to his lips.
“Anyway, Sword Clan's lord seems sharper with palms than blades? Pick up some fine art somewhere?”
Killing intent flickered in Hong Junak's eyes above the cup's rim.