Even Now, You Won't Come?
Still not coming?
Early morning at Seongun Inn.
The familiar faces who had long since melted into the rhythm of the place were gathered around, chatting idly over breakfast.
"Ho ho, so something like that really happened, you say."
White Cloud Sword Hyeon Un stroked his beard in admiration. The tale of Jin Seongun and Seomun Ak marching to Heuksi together, crushing the evil sect and rescuing the children, had stirred something in the old man's heart.
His gaze drifted toward Seomun Ak.
After all, he had assumed the boy was nothing more than a wastrel.
Seomun Ak, who had been wiping down tables before the morning rush, flinched under the elder's stare.
Hyeon Un smiled slyly.
"How was it?"
Seomun Ak didn't grasp the question at first. When no answer came right away, Hyeon Un pressed on.
"The children thanked you, did they not? From what I can see, that must have been a first for you."
It was, in a way, an insult.
The martial artists of the Orthodox factions performed chivalrous deeds as a matter of course. They prized the subjugation of evil and the protection of common folk above nearly everything else. Hearing words of gratitude from the very people they protected was simply part of the routine. But given the path Seomun Ak had walked until now, such a moment had likely never come his way.
Seomun Ak let out a low hum as the memory surfaced — the children bowing their heads in earnest greeting.
Thank you so much, Great Hero Seomun!
Great Hero Seomun, of all things. They must have seen it somewhere before, because they had greeted him with a maturity beyond their years. That strange, unfamiliar feeling from that moment brushed across his heart once more, light as a passing breeze.
"...I don't really know."
It was an honest answer. He hadn't felt any great joy — and no displeasure either. If he had to put it into words, it was closer to a faint, awkward discomfort.
"Is that so?"
Hyeon Un broke into an amused smile — the knowing smile of an old man who understood the hearts of children well enough.
"Then do it again."
"I beg your pardon?"
"A chivalrous deed. Go and perform another one, and observe what you feel. If you still don't know, do it again. And again. Keep at it long enough, and one day the answer will come to you — what it is you're actually feeling."
Hyeon Un knew exactly what Seomun Ak had felt. That awkwardness had bloomed from guilt and shame.
After living like a degenerate all these years, do I even deserve to be thanked like this?
Maybe, to those people, I was no different from those evil bastards of Heuksi?
Those thoughts flickered beneath his awareness, quietly breeding that strange, uncomfortable feeling.
Hyeon Un was curious about Seomun Ak's tomorrow. And the day after that. Would the boy come to understand and become a true hero — or would he die without ever grasping it, living and dying a wastrel?
"Now, now. You're old enough to know better than to torment the young. Let the boy eat his breakfast."
Shin Mok, sharing the morning meal alongside Hyeon Un, chided him. It had become his habit to stop by Seongun Inn with the elder every morning.
"And what about you, Shin Mok?"
"What about me?"
"You come by every single day. Doesn't it make Seongun uncomfortable? I've already grown close to the boy, so I'm fine — but to him, you're nothing but a bothersome old man."
Hyeon Un fired back without yielding an inch. And in truth, Jin Seongun was wearing a somewhat awkward expression. Shin Mok studied that face for a moment, then asked.
"Does my coming trouble you?"
"...No, sir."
He said that, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable all the same.
Shin Mok narrowed his eyes.
"Speak honestly."
"The truth is, I feel apologetic. The inn you so generously restored keeps getting torn apart."
At that candid reply, Shin Mok burst into hearty laughter. He had taken the boy for the unfeeling type, but apparently that wasn't the whole of it.
"Don't fret over that. I've made up my mind to make use of this inn in my own way, you see."
There was a reason Shin Mok hadn't left Yichang. When Jin Seongun looked at him with curiosity written across his face, the old craftsman continued.
"You have the charm of a demon."
"...I'm sorry, what?"
Jin Seongun wore the expression of a man who had misheard — and even took a half-step back.
"Not in that sense. You possess, quite remarkably, an allure that draws madmen to you."
"......"
"Look around. This inn is nothing but madmen, top to bottom. That Seo fellow cooking in the kitchen has murder written in his eyes. Seomun Ak there is a wastrel through and through. White Cloud Sword is an old fox with a scheming heart. And on top of it all, along comes a legendary lunatic like Sikmugaek, walking right in through the front door on his own two feet..."
By this point, Jin Seongun honestly couldn't tell whether this was an insult or a compliment. Shin Mok, indifferent to his confusion, smiled broadly.
"So it's plain this inn will be destroyed again and again. Rebuild it, and it'll break once more. And so, I've summoned my disciple here. With an inn that keeps falling to pieces, there will be no end to his training."
In a martial artist's terms, it was like striking a practice dummy to splinters only to find it fully restored the next morning. That was why Shin Mok intended to keep watch over Seongun Inn — teaching his disciple while researching all manner of construction techniques on the side.
Jin Seongun let out a quiet sigh. It was a situation that defied both laughter and tears.
"...There won't be any more incidents like that."
He said it like a prayer. An inn that kept getting demolished was hardly something to celebrate.
But Shin Mok's smile turned firm and resolute.
"We shall see, won't we?"
"......"
It was practically a curse hurled to his face.
But then, Shin Mok was also the one who would repair the inn the moment it did blow up, so there was nothing to say in reply. If Jin Seongun could offer any defense at all:
"They're not all like that, truly. Young Master Seomun has been reflecting on his past quite a bit lately, and Elder White Cloud Sword looks after us constantly. Cook Seo has also turned over a new leaf and—"
That was when it happened.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
A clamor erupted from the kitchen.
It was followed by the flustered voice of Han Seongchun, the inn's other cook.
"C-Cook Seo! What's gotten into you? Just take it easy a little—"
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Seo Yugyeom was hard at work on some ingredient, but the sound was anything but ordinary.
Jin Seongun peered into the kitchen through the small open window. Seo Yugyeom was smashing a fish head. And yet the look in his eyes, the set of his face — it was as if he were facing a mortal enemy to the death.
Hyeon Un and Shin Mok both craned their necks out on either side of him. The two elders studied Seo Yugyeom for a moment, then sighed in perfect unison.
"That, that murderous glare! One of these days it's going to bring real calamity down on us all!"
"Are you just going to sit there and watch?"
The vicious killing intent swirling in Seo Yugyeom's eyes was so potent that even Han Seongchun — a man with no martial training whatsoever — had shrunk back to the far end of the kitchen.
"...Cook Seo."
Jin Seongun called out to him, weaving a faint thread of internal energy into his voice. While Hyeon Un and Shin Mok marveled at his masterful technique, the light returned to Seo Yugyeom's eyes.
"Ah."
He let out a short exhale, then scooped water from a basin at his side and splashed it over his face. The cool water against his skin seemed to wash the fog from his mind.
Seo Yugyeom sighed quietly. Lately, the impulses of his killing intent had been growing stronger and stronger.
It seemed the fight with Sikmugaek had reawakened the primal instinct of the Heavenly Killing Star — the very nature he had worked so hard to suppress.
"Seongun, my boy. Are you certain it's wise to keep that one on as a cook? It's not that I dislike Cook Seo — I simply worry what might come of it."
At Hyeon Un's question, Jin Seongun scratched his head, looking troubled. Nothing had actually happened yet, but Seo Yugyeom's condition did look genuinely precarious.
Seo Yugyeom had heard the elder's question too, and so he answered.
"If I ever truly believe I've become a danger, I'll walk out of this inn myself."
He had always kept that scenario in mind. The day the Heavenly Killing Star's bloodlust slipped beyond his control, he would leave this place without hesitation. He loved Seongun Inn, and he loved Jin Seongun — but he would not be the one to ruin all of it.
Hyeon Un regarded Seo Yugyeom with an uncertain look. But Seo Yugyeom turned away from that gaze and bent back over his fish without another word.
Late evening.
As always, the inn was moderately peaceful and moderately bustling.
Noh Sang-won and the neighboring merchants, done with the day's trading, were lifting their cups together.
What had them utterly obsessed these days was the premium Jukyeopcheong. It was a rare liquor that had never been available in Yichang before — Jin Seongun had brought the Hyeongju merchant guild into his circle, and the liquor had come along with them.
Noh Sang-won rolled a mouthful of rich, succulent hongshaorou around his tongue, then took a long pull of the premium Jukyeopcheong. That clean, elegant fragrance swept away the grease and the bite of the spices in one go.
"Hoo! No matter how much I drink, I never get tired of it!"
Granted, it cost a pretty penny, and his wife nagged him daily to cut back — but Noh Sang-won drank his Jukyeopcheong like clockwork, all to preserve his dignity as head of the household.
That was when it happened.
Seongun Inn, where the regulars were mostly familiar faces, saw four unfamiliar men walk through its doors.
Two middle-aged men in silk finery that screamed wealth at a glance, trailed by two young martial artists who were clearly their escorts.
The silk-robed pair cast a leisurely sweep of the inn's interior.
"Smaller than it looked from outside."
"It is. Honestly, we should have stopped at the next town over. What is there even to eat at a shabby place like this?"
"My stomach's about to cave in and fuse with my spine. Let's just fill the hole today and stop in Chongqing tomorrow for a proper meal."
Jin Seongun went out to greet them. Listening to their conversation, they appeared to be merchants crossing long distances — and merchants with a great deal of money at that.
"Please, sit wherever you like."
The merchants nodded and took seats a little apart from the other patrons.
Before long, the man in blue silk spoke up.
"Two bottles of your most expensive liquor. And the most expensive side dish you have... actually, no. Never mind. Just bring a plate of whatever your most basic fare is."
Something about the man's words needled at Jin Seongun. It came across as though ordering anything expensive from a place like this would be a waste anyway, so just bring the generic stuff that tastes the same everywhere.
"Of course, sir."
Jin Seongun bowed his head.
He asked Seo Yugyeom for a stir-fried vegetable dish. As the merchants had said, it was the most basic fare imaginable — but it also happened to be Seo Yugyeom's specialty.
Then he set out the premium Jukyeopcheong.
At the sight of it, the men clicked their tongues.
"This is your most expensive liquor?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Tsk. I'd at least have expected Yanghe Daqu."
As the man in blue silk reeled off his complaints, the middle-aged man in purple silk tried to soothe him.
"At an inn like this, even Jukyeopcheong is a gift to be grateful for, come now. My friend, don't take it to heart so much. Oh — waiter, young man. Pay him no mind."
"Jukyeopcheong's characteristic bitterness simply doesn't suit my palate. If it's truly all you have, then so be it — but this is drink for people whose lives are drab and narrow from lack of learning and refinement. Rather too harsh for me, I'd say."
"Hahaha, and you should learn to adjust to humbler drink yourself, my friend. It's true you couldn't drink it every day, but on occasion, along a hard road, even this comes to taste like a delicacy. Gives one a feel for the common man's life, too, you know."
Of course, the peacemaker is always the more insufferable of the two.
Perhaps it was the merchants' back-and-forth, but the other patrons — who had been savoring their premium Jukyeopcheong like the finest wine of their lives — began setting their cups down with sheepish expressions.
Then it happened.
The two escorts, who had been watching Jin Seongun with placid eyes, suddenly locked gazes with Seomun Ak.
Their eyes went wide. How could a mere waiter at some backwater inn be a First-Rate master?
One of the escorts lowered his voice.
"Elder. Perhaps we should move on to another inn—"
"See? I knew you'd agree with me. The thing about Jukyeopcheong is..."
Just as the merchant launched into yet another round of complaints—
"Tastes damn fine to me, you pompous bastards."
An old man's voice cut through the room.
The complaining merchants turned to stare at him. Who on earth dared spout such words to their faces! These country folk and their hopelessly crude manners — truly a problem.
Thinking exactly that, the man in blue silk scowled at the old man. With escorts whose skill had reached the very Peak Realm, there was nothing in the world he needed to fear.
"You, you there! Who do you think you are, butting into another man's conversation without so much as a shred of—"
"Gahk!"
The man in purple — Hwang Inpyeong — choked mid-sentence, his eyes going round as saucers.
A heartbeat later, he seized the arm of his companion Cheong Manseok and hauled him roughly upright.
"What? What is it? Let go of me! That senile old codger was the one spouting nonsense first!"
"Stop—"
"Stop what? Look here, old gentleman! Open that flap of yours and say it again, if you dare!"
"Enough, I said! Do you have any idea who that man is!"
At Hwang Inpyeong's shout, Cheong Manseok's eyes flew wide open. His friend was polite and proper on the surface, certainly — but he was hardly the type to be meek down to the bone.
Who in the world could that man be?
While Cheong Manseok stood bewildered, Hwang Inpyeong crept toward the old man wearing the world's most pleasant and deferential smile, then bowed deeply from the waist.
"Hwang Inpyeong, Agency Head of the Yangyang Escort Agency. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Elder."
Yangyang sat nestled between Mount Wudang — home of the Wudang Sect — and Mount Yungjung, seat of the Zhuge Clan. Because of that, Hwang Inpyeong had often glimpsed the faces of Wudang and Zhuge figures at regional gatherings.
And yet — astonishingly — here in this small, shabby inn sat White Cloud Sword himself, an elder of Wudang.
Having paid his respects with exquisite grace, Hwang Inpyeong shot a meaningful glance at his friend.
"You too, hurry and greet him. That is White Cloud Sword, an elder of the Wudang Sect."
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth—
Cheong Manseok sprang forward as though someone had kicked him in the back and bowed deeply to Hyeon Un.
"I-I am Cheong Manseok, Guild Leader of the Akju Merchant Guild. It is a supreme honor to stand before the illustrious White Cloud Sword."
The illustrious Hyeon Un stroked his beard downward and spoke.
"The Akju Merchant Guild, you say? Then you must be acquainted with the Dongho Merchant Guild. I seem to recall teaching the current Dongho guild leader a bit of swordsmanship when he was a boy. Is the young man doing well?"
At those words, the color drained from Cheong Manseok's face.
The Dongho Merchant Guild was a colossal trade organization that dominated Wuhan and the surrounding region — Akju included. Naturally, his own Akju Merchant Guild survived only by clinging to Dongho's skirts.
More to the point, the Dongho guild leader was no child. He was a grown man, possessed of exceptional commercial brilliance, and his personal martial prowess had reached the very Peak Realm — a master in his own right.
To hear such a towering figure spoken of like the kid from next door made Cheong Manseok realize, anew, exactly what manner of man White Cloud Sword was.
"Heh heh. You're both old enough to know better. Straighten those backs."
At Hyeon Un's words, the two merchants wobbled unsteadily as they rose. Hyeon Un continued.
"Now then — what was that about the taste of Jukyeopcheong? Something about people who lack learning, and the common man's life, was it?"
The two merchants sucked in their breath. No matter how much wealth they'd piled up or how much power they'd built, how could anything they had compare to the Wudang Sect?
Then Hyeon Un glanced sideways at Jin Seongun and smiled — a smile that said, unmistakably:
This is what Wudang amounts to. Even now, you won't come?