Chapter 41
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Sometimes, You Shouldn't Listen to Adults
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One month after the Murim Alliance conference.
“Master, hurry, hurry!”
I stomped my feet impatiently in front of Uihyeon’s room and shouted. I pressed down on my flushed face, brimming with anticipation and excitement, with the palm of my hand to cool it.
Uihyeon emerged, draped in his robe, chuckling softly as he ruffled my hair. The plum branch embroidered on the sleeve of his robe proclaimed him a Plum Blossom Swordsman.
The Plum Blossom Swordsmen was a title bestowed upon the top five most outstanding later-generation disciples of Mount Hua. Those who earned it received a Plum Blossom Sword forged from Hanchul. Hanchul was basically Murim’s equivalent of mithril. Upgraded iron, you could say.
Uigang and Uiseong had also joined Uihyeon on that list.
My own goal was to join their ranks someday. Hanchul was so rare that a sword made from it was like a top-tier rare item in a game—high performance all the way.
“You’ve been looking forward to this a lot.”
“Of course!”
Today was the day we’d finally head down to Hwaeum Town to buy a real sword.
It was also my official first trip down the mountain.
Since it was tough for all the seated disciples handling sect duties to head out together, they’d decided to take turns descending to Hwaeum with their disciples whenever they had time. And the honor of going first fell to me and Uihyeon.
My very first outing down from Mount Hua had me buzzing with excitement.
I followed Uihyeon out through the sect gate and started down the stairs toward Hwaeum.
‘This is the real deal.’
Mount Hua really was towering high. Uihyeon trailed behind me—descending the steps in quick little hops—at a pace slightly more relaxed than his usual stride.
When I paused midway down the stairs, Uihyeon hurried over.
“Tired? Or did you twist your ankle?”
“No, just thinking back on the old days.”
I grinned while gazing down at the endless stretch of stairs that still seemed to go on forever.
“Before I joined the sect, Senior Brother Uiseong would always bring me only this far. He said I could tackle the rest once I got bigger.”
Walking down those very stairs I couldn’t back then—under my own power now—filled me with a fresh sense of wonder.
“Yeah… That tiny little baby’s already grown this big.”
I nodded proudly at his murmur.
My height had long since reached Uihyeon’s waist. To him, who used to carry me around as a newborn, my growth must hit even harder.
“I’ll grow another this much.”
I stretched my arms straight out, pointing roughly to Uihyeon’s shoulder height.
He let out a small laugh, as if picturing me that tall, then gave my crown a light pat.
“It’s fine to take it slow, Yeon-ah.”
“Eck, no way. I wanna grow fast.”
That way, I’d have even a tiny edge over Namgung Seheon. If I lost even after surpassing his height—and then he caught up—what then?
I shook my head vigorously, making it clear how badly I wanted to shoot up.
“Is that right? This master would feel a bit lonely if you grew too fast… Less time together.”
His voice carried a hint of regret, and I scratched my head while bounding down two steps at a time.
Sure, I’d be at Mount Hua forever as master and disciple no matter what, but there was a difference between kid-me and full-grown adult-me.
Once I hit twenty, I wouldn’t even need a guardian for Jianghu trips.
Put like that, Uihyeon’s feelings weren’t hard to get.
“Then I’ll grow at a nice, moderate pace.”
He caught up with his leisurely steps and beamed at me.
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
* * *
At long last, I’d conquered every last stair, fully descended from Mount Hua, and set foot in Hwaeum Town—the village nestled right at its base.
“Wow!”
The sights of Hwaeum spread out before me—someone who’d only ever lived in the upper palace—felt so strange yet so thrilling.
Streets teeming with people, shops lined up in rows, ornate buildings everywhere. It was a spectacle of things I’d never seen at Mount Hua, and my eyes couldn’t stop darting around.
“Hold my hand tight.”
“Yes, sir.”
I was too busy gawking every which way to slack on the reply, though.
Smacking my lips at the fruit skewers impaled on a vendor’s stall, Uihyeon bought one and handed it over.
Munching away on the skewer while he led me by the hand, we arrived at a large building bearing the sign “Hwayong Ironworks.”
We pushed through the doors into a blast of scorching air, the clamor of hammers pounding from every direction.
“The blade on a Hanchul Plum Blossom Sword shouldn’t be worn out already…”
A burly middle-aged man approached Uihyeon with a warm greeting. His forearms were nearly the size of my head.
He trailed off, then shifted his gaze to me standing beside Uihyeon and nodded.
“Looks like a fresh third-generation disciple’s ready to pick up his sword. Your pupil?”
“Yes, we’re here for my disciple’s sword today. Biyeon, greet him properly.”
“I’m Biyeon of Mount Hua.”
I cupped my fists and bowed, and he returned the gesture before slapping Uihyeon’s back with a booming laugh.
“The day’s come for you to play master, eh?”
Guided further inside, a clatter of swords—smaller than standard real blades—soon lay before us.
I scanned them, mulling which to pick, when some advice came flying.
“It ain’t for life, just a short stint while you’re little—so pick the one that feels best in your hands to wield, kid.”
“Can I touch them?”
“Heh, you ever hear of a martial artist picking a sword with his eyes alone?”
I’d been raised never to manhandle shop goods, but fair enough.
I lifted each sword in front of me and swung them carefully, one by one. Temporary or not, I couldn’t just grab any old thing. This was the blade for my showdown with Namgung Seheon.
“I’ll take this one.”
After serious thought, I settled on it—decent weight, grip that molded perfectly to my hand, satisfying swing.
While Uihyeon handled the payment, I clutched my new sword tight and eyed the weapons hanging on the walls. One stood out: a blade exceptionally thin and long.
“What’s that one?”
The hammerman answered my offhand mutter.
“A soft sword. Bends just like the name says. Roll it up for easy concealment or carry—great for self-defense. Tricky to wield, though, so not for greenhorns.”
Whip sword, basically. Sneak it into a no-weapons enemy stronghold? Jackpot.
I filed that away, then turned at Uihyeon’s call.
I took his outstretched hand like always, and he asked warmly.
“Wanna stick around longer? Anywhere you wanna hit?”
“Market tour, Master! The market!”
We’d come all the way down to Hwaeum—might as well soak it all in. First outing of my life, after all.
To avoid getting swept away in the crowds and losing him, I gripped Uihyeon’s hand firm and wandered Hwaeum’s market.
Right as I was drinking in the views beyond Mount Hua’s upper palace, a figure burst from an alley.
“Help—please, help…!”
A woman, face drained white, rushed up in desperation and clutched at Uihyeon. Bloodstains on her face and clothes hardened his expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hurry…!”
Her face screamed she was out of it—no strength left even to explain. The frantic look hinted at major trouble brewing in that alley.
“Yeon-ah, stay put right here—I’ll be back soon.”
Uihyeon drilled it into me, then vanished down the alley, tugged along by the woman.
Hwaeum was Mount Hua’s home turf, practically sect territory itself. Leaving me alone—with a plum blossom pinned proudly to my chest—seemed safe enough.
I’d relaxed for the exact same reason.
Then a hand clamped onto my shoulder, right on cue.
Chills erupted across my skin. What the—? No presence at all.
My neck creaked as I craned it up to see who’d grabbed me. Bamboo hat pulled low, face shrouded in cloth save for the eyes. Those eyes gleamed coldly from the hat’s shadow—lifeless.
“Who’re you?”
I forced a casual tone, and a raspy, grating voice scraped right by my ear.
“Quiet. Come.”
A cold, razor-sharp prod against my side made me gulp.
A sidelong glance showed a honed dagger pressed flush—poised to plunge in.
He dragged me down the alley opposite the one Uihyeon had taken.
Threatening with a blade like this? No good intentions here. Let myself get hauled off, and it was torture at best, death at worst.
Or straight wuxia cliché—Demonic Cult brainwashing into a mindless slaughter puppet.
Better to die here, leave a trace, than that. No trace, and Uihyeon—Mount Hua—would scour for me awhile at least.
Decision made in seconds, I took a deep breath to steady my shakes. Death resolved or not, fear still gnawed.
Second life over at nine years flat? Not even touching that dream of every martial artist: supreme under heaven.
If I died here for real, I’d haunt this bastard kidnapper as a vengeful ghost till his dying breath. World’s top ghost it was.
I dug my heels in, refusing to budge, and he jammed the dagger harder.
“Wanna die right here?”
“Yeah. Stab away. I’ll croak on the spot.”
His brow twitched at my taunt. I sucked in a massive breath and bellowed.
“Help! Kidnapper—mmph!”
His palm smashed over my mouth the instant I yelled. Too late—eyes were turning our way.
“Biyeon-ah!”
That familiar shout—I chomped down hard on the hand. It slackened on reflex; I seized it with both hands, yanked it free, and screamed.
“Master! Here—ugh…!”
“Tch. Ruined. Scrap it.”
Damn scum actually did it? The dagger sank into my side, body locking rigid. Scorching heat and agony bloomed, spreading from the wound.
Uihyeon’s eyes widened in horror as he spotted me.