The Motley Crew (3)
The next day at noon.
“Ugh, it's cold.”
Yun Ho rubbed his shoulders vigorously with his hands.
“Seriously, if you're gonna call us, at least show up on time. Why's it taking so long?”
Dong Ho chided him.
“We've barely been here half an incense stick's time, sahyung.”
“Still! If you call people, you show up on time!”
“Ugh, but in front of that guy, I freeze up and can't even speak properly.”
“You little punk?”
“Just saying.”
“Anyway, why'd you even come? You could've stayed playing around at the alliance and headed back to the main sect.”
“It's all because of you, sahyung.”
“Because of me?!”
“How do I know what kind of trouble you'll stir up? I'm here to keep an eye on you.”
Yun Ho snorted derisively.
“What are you gonna do, babysit me? You just wanted some fresh air yourself.”
“Two birds, one stone.”
“Heh heh heh.”
“Anyway...”
Dong Ho glanced around.
“More people than I expected.”
Nearly fifty late-generation disciples had gathered in the rear garden of Pa Gun Pavilion. Most were unaffiliated wanderers from the Nine Great Sects. And they were all ones who had challenged Yeon Hojeong at least twice in sparring matches and lost.
Young experts who hadn't yet taken on major roles in their sects. Not the absolute top late-generation disciples of their factions, but certainly first-rate masters with skills worthy of the name.
Dong Ho frowned.
“It's kinda weird.”
“What is?”
“Most of these guys are from our Hwasan, Cheongseong, Ami, Jeomcheong, and Kunlun. The rest... hmm, not sure. They look like ronin.”
“And?”
“Isn't it strange? Not a single one from the Six Great Clans?”
Yun Ho shook his head.
“Not strange at all.”
“Why not?”
“That guy's the eldest son of the Yeon family—one of the pillars of the Six Great Clans. It'd be a loss of face for anyone from the same clans to join a reserve unit under his command.”
“Ah...”
“Maybe some have personal ties, but their family elders probably blocked it.”
Dong Ho looked at Yun Ho with admiring eyes.
“How do you know all that, sahyung?”
“Hey, I'm from a prestigious family too, you know.”
“You're from one of the Six Great Clans?”
“...Not quite that big, just a minor local power with some pull.”
“As expected from someone who's seen the world. I've lived on the mountain since I was a kid, so worldly squabbles don't make much sense to me.”
Yun Ho gave a wry smile.
“Don't bother trying to understand. The deeper you dig, the dirtier and uglier it gets.”
“Hmm.”
Dong Ho scratched his head.
“But, sahyung.”
“What now?”
“I held off asking till now, but...”
“Spit it out already.”
“Why does everyone want to join that guy's reserve unit anyway?”
Yun Ho smacked his lips.
“Lots of reasons.”
“The commander's not even here yet—tell me.”
“Ahem.”
Yun Ho cleared his throat and held up his index finger.
“First, there's nothing for me to do at Hwasan.”
“That's pathetically trivial.”
“Hey!”
“Second?”
He raised his middle finger.
“Second, I want to experience the jianghu.”
“Huh? You've descended the mountain plenty of times, sahyung. Didn't you join that bandit suppression campaign before?”
“Kid, you think a few trips down count as truly knowing the jianghu? I want to see a wider world.”
“Heh, what if the commander just spins us around one region?”
“...Didn't think that far, but I'd deal with it.”
“Any more reasons?”
“Third.”
Yun Ho clenched his fist.
“I can train freely.”
“Pardon?”
“Neither of us has duties at the main sect. We're basically reserves, but we still have to keep schedules, stand guard at the gates sometimes.”
“Well, it's an honorable duty.”
“Sure. But I want something bigger. I want to grow several times stronger and return.”
Yun Ho smacked his lips again.
“Not learning new arts or anything, but I'll have way more time to reflect and train. I believe this reserve stint will change my life.”
Dong Ho's eyes sparkled.
“Impressive, sahyung.”
“What's impressive? I just wanna do my own thing.”
“Still. I don't have grand goals like you.”
“You're not alone.”
“Huh?”
Yun Ho looked around. Some stared idly at the clouds, others dozed on rocks, a few sat cross-legged in deep focus. A truly motley bunch.
Their skills looked plenty strong to Yun Ho—first-rate by jianghu standards. Some, like him, had just entered the peak realm. The Nine Great Sects' standards were sky-high, but these were no slouches. Most martial artists never reached their level in a lifetime.
But those gathered here craved more. Not sect representatives, but their pride matched anyone's.
Dong Ho sighed.
Yun Ho tilted his head.
“What's with the sigh?”
“Just frustrating.”
“Plenty to frustrate a young punk like you.”
“We're only two years apart, sahyung.”
“...Tch.”
Pity crossed Dong Ho's face.
“Us, them—all probably the ones our sects had high hopes for.”
“Yeah.”
“Ended up here 'cause we're all middling.”
Yun Ho stayed silent, agreeing but unwilling to voice it—it felt too pathetic.
“That's just how the world is...”
He muttered like an old man complaining.
“Purr, getting colder like you said, sahyung.”
“Told ya.”
“Ah, when's our future commander showing up?”
That was when it happened.
“Gasp!”
Someone sucked in a breath.
“N-no way, is that...?”
“Lesser Immortal Sword Ok Cheong!”
“Shh! He's got higher seniority than us—watch your mouth!”
They stared at Ok Cheong with burning eyes.
Ok Cheong was the sole disciple of Sword Sage Tak Mu-ja, one of the Thirteen Seats of Sacred Heaven. The Sword Sage's name rang anywhere, especially among the Nine Great Sects practicing Dao and Buddhist arts, where he stood twin pillars with Fist God Mu Heo Daesa.
A figure the White Path martial world praised endlessly. Ok Cheong was that Sword Sage's one and only disciple, a genius of geniuses rumored to possess the talents of a War God.
“But why's he... I mean, that gentleman...?”
“Joining the reserves?”
“Nah, no way. He's busy training under the Sword Sage.”
“True.”
“...Maybe he holds a grudge against Yeon Hojeong?”
“Whoa, probably.”
Their whispers carried clearly. Ok Cheong awkwardly scanned around before heading to a quiet corner. Mingling with strangers was a burden.
Still, his arrival heated things up. Hard to approach, but having the Sword Sage's disciple meant the reserves had some face.
Yun Ho, surveying the crowd, suddenly approached Ok Cheong.
“Hello.”
“Ah, hello.”
Yun Ho grinned sheepishly.
“Thanks for back then.”
“When?”
“Uh... after the spar with Young Master Yeon...”
“Ah!”
Ok Cheong shook his head.
“Don't mention it. Just the right thing to do.”
“Haha, still grateful. Anyway...”
Yun Ho probed slyly.
“Are you joining the reserves too, Daoist Ok Cheong?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Pardon? Not sure?”
Ok Cheong looked awkward.
“I just came after hearing the rumors. Young Master Yeon—er, Hero Yeon—didn't seek me out.”
“...Pardon?”
“I heard he's forming a reserve unit with himself as commander, so I came. From the others, that he personally recruited them.”
“Ah...”
Yun Ho tilted his head.
“Why wouldn't he? With your skills, he'd rush to recruit you.”
Ok Cheong smacked his lips.
“Maybe my skills are too subpar...”
“What? Heh, don't say that. If yours are subpar, we should all quit.”
“No, really, mine are nothing special.”
Yun Ho smiled brightly.
“Such humility.”
Not humility. Ok Cheong almost explained his history but stopped. Too long a story, and awkward with strangers.
Some time passed like that.
“Hm?”
“Someone's coming.”
All eyes sharpened.
Crunch, crunch.
The sound of footsteps on snow tickled their ears. Soon, a woman appeared.
“Oh...”
“So beautiful.”
“An archer?”
The one entering the outdoor garden was Muk Bi. She blushed under the stares, feeling awkward.
Yun Ho's eyes lit up.
“Isn't that archer Young Master Yeon's friend?”
“...”
“Daoist Ok Cheong?”
“Y-yes? Did you call me?”
“...Yes. Uh, you know her too, right? The archer.”
“I do.”
Too well. Ok Cheong unconsciously rubbed his thigh.
'Hit right here, intensely.'
Yeon Hojeong would occasionally have Muk Bi shoot blunt arrows at him. No tip, but each hit nearly drew a scream from his throat.
Muk Bi's arrows were too fast for Ok Cheong's reactions.
'Never spoken to her, but Lady Muk's skills far surpass mine.'
Definitely. The thigh pain haunted him in terror.
'...Stop imagining.'
As all watched Muk Bi curiously, it happened.
“Ho, more than I expected.”
Everyone startled and turned to the garden entrance.
There stood Yeon Hojeong, Gwang Yong Bu slung over his shoulder, looking rather cheerful.
“Let me count... one, two, three, four... about fifty, yeah.”
The scattered disciples straightened up. He was their commander, after all. Regardless of age or skill, courtesy was due.
Yeon Hojeong grinned.
“Got your gear?”
“...?”
What?
Yun Ho asked for the group.
“You mean our luggage...?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Pardon?”
Yeon Hojeong smirked.
“Didn't hear? We're heading out of the alliance today.”