The Young Master's Burning Infatuation
Hwangbo Un, Hwangbo Un—who was he? The young master of the great Hwangbo Clan, boasting the finest talent among the later-generation disciples, wasn't he?
That was why he was arrogant. Well, his nature was inherently good, so he never strayed too far. He slacked a bit on training, and his every word dripped with self-pride—that was the extent of it. It was the usual folly for disciples his age.
But right now, his appearance was far removed from that of a brash young pup. In the training hall, he gripped his sword and swung it without pause. The bloodstains clinging to the hilt suggested his sessions weren't exactly gentle. To grind a Peak realm palm technique to perfection would take at least hundreds of millions of swings.
Watching him, one of his attendants tapped his shoulder with a worried look.
"Young Master Hwangbo, you'll ruin your body like that."
"I'm fine."
"Fine? What kind of talk is that? You haven't slept for days."
"...I know my own body best. Please, go rest inside."
"But..."
"Even if the Yeonhwa Sect is indebted to the Hwangbo Clan, you don't need to go that far. I'm already grateful enough for the lodging and the use of the training hall."
"Are you really okay?"
Hwangbo Un swung his sword again, as if he hadn't heard. In his mind, one figure surfaced.
'Namgoong Juhee...'
Before meeting her, Hwangbo Un had thought himself the best. The other later-generation disciples had only advanced their realms comfortably within their clans. Greenhorns who hadn't ventured into the jianghu of the martial world, gained experience, and cut down evildoers could never beat him—or so he'd believed.
But that was a delusion.
Hwangbo Un still vividly remembered the events in Wuhu.
The time when Namgoong Juhee had dashed ahead, leaving him scrambling to keep up. The way she'd effortlessly slain dozens of water bandits and laughed it off. And when she'd clashed swords with the Gale Ghost—those pale legs, the graceful curves, and... that cheerful, beautiful smile.
Thinking back, Hwangbo Un's face would flush with shame. Whether it was only shame, well, only he knew. In any case, he'd grown stronger—mentally and physically. And he wanted to test that strength at the Hobuk Branch.
"Understood. Then I'll leave this towel here and withdraw."
"Thanks."
"No need. The Hobuk Branch is in ten days, isn't it? Considering Taoist Cheongmyeong's prowess, I understand your urgency, young master."
"Cheongmyeong... Yes."
"I'll really be going now. Take it easy. Farewell..."
Cheongmyeong. Despite his light words and actions, he was known as a man of integrity and skill. Not only the head disciple of the Azure Generation, but also the frontrunner for the next Wudang sect leader. Beating him handily would prove a certain level of prowess. Then maybe even Namgung Sojeo would take notice...
Clang!
"...Ah."
A mind lost in reverie can't control its swing, and the sword couldn't take it. The sixth blade broken so far. Hwangbo Un clutched his head.
"Damn it. No. She's just a pretty face, a total airhead. I can't let her bewitch me."
Hwangbo Un thought his attendant might be right. Maybe days without sleep in the training hall had addled his brain. Or perhaps he'd gone so long without seeing a woman. In truth, the time he'd spent with Namgoong Juhee was during the water bandit subjugation—when his whole body burned with exhilaration and his heart pounded. Maybe he'd mistaken that high and the fear for affection.
"Hoo..."
Hwangbo Un rubbed his dry face and steeled his resolve. He should head down to the village for some fresh air. Grab a good meal, see some people—surely the stray thoughts would fade.
. . .
Hobuk's Wudang Mountain... At its foot lay the small city of Shiyan.
First-time visitors to Shiyan were always stunned. How could a city be built hugging a gorge like that?
And rightly so. Central Plains cities were typically built along flatlands, stopping when mountains appeared. Mountains were bandit territory, after all. Whether bandits or upright sects, folks living in the hills weren't normal. Why risk getting swept into conflicts when better places abounded?
Yet Shiyan had thrived by the mountain because the Wudang folk were unusually sane for hill-dwellers. People often thought of Huashan as the most worldly sect, but Wudang was no slouch. Credit went to the current sect leader, True Man Jin-hyeon. "Immortals or not, without money, even sages turn thieves," he'd say. He raked in wealth with heavenly pills and such, and spent it freely.
The result was Shiyan—a beautiful city nestled in a gorge. So stunning that master potter Park Yong-taek reportedly said, "Speak not of scenery if you've never seen Shiyan." What pottery had to do with views, who knew.
And so, to that beautiful city arrived Namgoong Juhee and Yi Hayeon. And Namgoong Juhee declared:
"I'm hungry. Feed me."
"Oh my. I was just thinking the same."
"Right? Let's snag an inn quick."
To Namgoong Juhee, Shiyan was just a graphics pack. Her appreciation: "Oh, pretty. So where's the food?" What mattered was dopamine from good eats.
Hayeon was equally meh about Shiyan's scenery. She'd seen it passing through before, and her interests lay solely in money and Namgoong Juhee. She pondered only what food to feed her.
"Let's do that. I've spotted plenty of inns coming and going from Hobuk."
"Nice. What's good there?"
"They do everything well. They even have that fried chicken you love, Hee-ah."
"Chicken! Yeah, that's the stuff!"
Fried chicken was Korean soul food. Though Namgoong Juhee's body was Chinese, her spirit was pure Korean fire. That's why her eyes sparkled at "chicken."
"Hm... But first, there's business."
"Huh? Business?"
"You didn't forget, right? We came here for the Hobuk Branch."
"Oh."
Namgoong Juhee's mouth fell open slightly. She'd totally forgotten. Hayeon gave her a pitiful look—but even that gaze was rose-tinted. That's Hee-ah's charm, Hayeon thought.
"...Ten days until the Hobuk Branch. Better submit the application early. And we need a guarantor."
"Guarantor?"
"Yes. But don't worry. Money buys guarantors easy."
"Yeah, okay. Better knock it out now. Where to?"
"I heard the martial hall in Shiyan rotates handling it... This time it's the Yeonhwa Sect."
"Whatever, doesn't matter. Quick finish, then chow."
"Hehe, yes. Something delicious."
Hayeon smiled as she headed to Yeonhwa Sect. A smile that would vanish in less than an hour.
. . .
"Hoo..."
Even out for air after leaving the training hall, Hwangbo Un's heart remained troubled.
"My gains from these days of secluded training rival true closed-door cultivation. The clan expands like wildfire. So why this unease?"
Voicing his worries didn't help. Deep down, Hwangbo Un knew. He wanted to see Namgoong Juhee. One of his biggest regrets from Wuhu was lying bedridden, unable to see her.
"I should've at least thanked her."
He skipped adding, "And sorted my feelings while at it." People always have something they won't yield till the end. Especially admitting he'd fallen for that ditzy girl in that form—it was humiliation Hwangbo Un couldn't accept.
"Oh, isn't that young master?"
Hah, now hallucinations too. Hwangbo Un ignored the voice from behind.
"Huh? Not the young master? Hey! You! Hwangbo Un!"
Even louder, but Hwangbo Un just plugged his ears.
Tough training messed me up. Heart demon? Should've heeded my attendant.
Hallucinations and real voices are easy to tell: hallucinations end quick; real ones persist unless stopped.
"What an ungrateful bastard."
And they don't cling this stubbornly.
Smack!
A sharp sting on his back—Hwangbo Un couldn't ignore anymore. Namgoong Juhee. He turned, thinking so.
"Finally looking this way?"
There she stood, the woman of his dreams, beaming innocently. No—more beautiful. Imagination projects ideals, yet she surpassed it. Hwangbo Un's face heated unwittingly; he was about to speak when—
"...Hee-ah?"
A voice cool as a blade. Hwangbo Un's gaze shifted instinctively. There stood a beauty with the same red hair as Namgoong Juhee—glaring at him like he was her parents' killer.