Chapter 57
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Scared? Scared?
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“You send the challenge letter and then act surprised?”
“I don’t recall formally challenging you to a duel.”
Namgung Seheon shrugged and casually revealed why he’d been startled to see me.
“My father told me not to expect much. He said it’s rare for a third-generation disciple to attend the conference. But then I saw you’d come all the way to Shaolin….”
He paused for a moment, then lowered his voice as if afraid someone might overhear, whispering.
“You wouldn’t happen to be the Sect Leader’s granddaughter, would you?”
Instead of answering, I chopped the side of my hand down on his crown. Namgung Seheon clutched the spot with both hands and grumbled.
“Ow, why! You grew up on Mount Hua as a kid, and you’re getting this kind of special treatment now—it’s not unreasonable to ask!”
“Mount Hua forbids marriage. And you know I’m an orphan, so asking that is just asking to get hit, right?”
“No, even if your parents are gone, you could still have grandparents… or…”
He made an “oh crap” face, rubbed his crown, and his voice trailed off smaller and smaller as he tried to defend himself.
In the end, he mumbled to a finish, ruffled his own hair, and admitted his mistake without further excuses.
“Sorry, that was a slip of the tongue.”
“Yeah, think before you speak next time. Your head isn’t just for show.”
His clean apology got him a clean pardon from me, no hard feelings.
“Anyway, hand over my hair tie.”
Sure enough, I spotted my hair tie boldly tied around Namgung Seheon’s wrist and reached out quick as a flash.
He yanked his arm back before I could grab it and stuck out his tongue.
“I clearly said I’d return it when you came to the Namgung Family. And this isn’t the Namgung Family—it’s Shaolin.”
I scowled at his lame wordplay, and he grinned, proudly raising and shaking the wrist with my hair tie.
“Well, if you really want it back right now… how about I give it to you if you win a spar?”
I’d been burning with the will to spar with him right up until we arrived at Shaolin, but now that he was actually suggesting it, my head cooled right off.
Let’s think this through rationally.
If we fought here and he got even a single scratch that brought the Namgung Family Head chasing after the Sect Leader again…? I’d be grounded until the conference ended, and back at Mount Hua, it’d be straight to the Reflection Cave.
It’s another sect’s headquarters, so finding a spot for a spar away from prying eyes would be tough. If we fought anywhere recklessly, it was bound to reach the adults’ ears somehow.
So this time, I’d back off a step and endure until the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly came around….
“What’s wrong, scared you’ll lose again?”
Scared? I ground my teeth at Namgung Seheon’s cocky laugh.
Get ready to cry in your journal tonight about how the strongest sword of Mount Hua beat you for the first time in your life.
I drew the sword from my belt, rested its chin on my shoulder, and jerked my jaw at him.
“Hey, I’ll give you half a shichen. Find a spot for a spar where the adults won’t catch us….”
I started to dump the location scouting on Namgung Seheon, then remembered his fatal flaw and changed tack.
“Nah, let’s find one together.”
“Even you can’t exploit this body that easily, huh?”
I gave the smug young master the cold truth.
“What’re you talking about? You’re such a hopeless direction idiot, if you went alone to find a sparring spot, you’d get lost and not make it back to the guest quarters—they’d catch you for sure.”
“I’m not a direction idiot!”
“Isn’t it about time you admitted your own shortcomings?”
As I picked at my ear and dragged Namgung Seheon along, I suddenly noticed a subtle difference in our eye levels.
“Hey, you….”
“Hm?”
Namgung Seheon whipped his head around to look down at me. Not enough to fully bow his head, just a slight dip of his eyes, but even that cracked my pride.
“You grew taller?”
At my question, he casually raised a hand to measure the height difference between our heads and muttered.
“Yeah, looks like it…? I’m taller now?”
Confirming he was bigger, he flashed a goofy grin for some reason and slung his arm over my shoulder.
“I can feel your arm stretched all the way up, you know? Lower it.”
At least our heights were still close enough to take some comfort in.
I shook off his arm, he put it back, and we bickered like that without watching where we were going. Then we bumped shoulders with a mountain of a man hurrying from the opposite direction.
I moved to apologize right away, but he beat me to it by speaking first.
“You, our youngest’s friend?”
The bear of a man I’d bumped into was Pang Haran’s second brother. To be precise, we’d only met face-to-face twice so far, so not quite friends.
He clamped his pot-lid hand on my shoulder and asked point-blank.
“You seen our youngest?”
I shook my head, and Pang Haran’s second brother ruffled his own hair in lament.
“Argh, that’s why we should’ve dragged Jin Seoryun along too.”
Jin Seoryun? Same name as the protagonist of *Sword God Returns*.
But with so many people sharing names, it was a stretch to assume this was *Sword God Returns* just because of one guy named Jin Seoryun.
As if they’d been searching scattered, Pang Haran’s eldest brother came sprinting up at speed belying his bulk. He glanced down at me and asked his brother.
“Not the youngest’s friend? He say he saw him?”
“Nah, hasn’t seen him.”
I’m not your little brother’s friend, guys.
Pang Haran’s eldest brother rubbed his brow with a headachey look and beckoned us.
“You two, go out and find our youngest, bring him back.”
Then, without waiting for our reply, they strode off again in search of Pang Haran.
We shook off the whirlwind in our heads and stared blankly at each other. Namgung Seheon spoke first.
“We gotta look for him?”
“Dunno. Let’s spar first, then look.”
We left the crowded guest quarters first. I grabbed Namgung Seheon’s nape to stop him from wandering off aimlessly and racked my brain.
Shaolin Temple was enormous, as befitting the world’s top sect’s headquarters, and this was my and Namgung Seheon’s first visit.
Meaning, finding a suitable sparring spot might turn out way harder than expected. Of course, even on his tenth visit, Namgung Seheon would be useless.
Home is best known by its owner, after all. Asking a Shaolin disciple would be the way to go.
Spotting a Shaolin monk wasn’t hard. Bald heads stand out even in crowds.
I bent down, rubbed my palm in the dirt path, then stood and poked Namgung Seheon.
“Hey, cry.”
“What kinda random nonsense is that? And to cry, tears have to—ow!”
I straight-up rubbed the sandy palm in his eyes, and he yelped mid-sentence.
I admired the physiological tears streaming from his irritated eyes, then whispered low.
“Hey, hey, act real pitiful quick.”
“I’m already pitiful enough thanks to you! Why the hell are you suddenly rubbing sand in people’s eyes!”
“I’ve got a good reason, okay? Cooperate.”
I calmed the flailing Namgung Seheon and dragged him—still wiping endless tears—to a passing Shaolin monk.
“Excuse me, do you know a quiet spot where not many people go and it’s out of the way?”
The monk glanced between tear-dripping Namgung Seheon and me soothing him with shoulder pats, then kindly pointed the way with a gentle smile.
“Ugh, my eyes hurt so bad I could die….”
Once the monk was out of sight, Namgung Seheon grumbled while wiping his tears.
We followed the directions to a small shrine. Being so remote, the serene, quiet place had not a soul around.
“Thanks to you, we found a good spot in this huge Shaolin without wandering lost on the first try.”
“Say thanks quick.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Me, for coming up with such a clever idea.
Oblivious to what I’d left unsaid, Namgung Seheon strutted ahead with his nose in the air and flung open the shrine doors.
He’d leaned forward like he was about to step in when suddenly—faster than the eye could follow—he slammed the doors shut again.
He pressed his back against them like he feared they might open on their own, face pale as he panted.
“Th-the shr-shrine has a r-red-, red-, red-eyed wh-white-haired gh-gh-ghost…. Why the hell is there a g-ghost in Shaolin….”
I shoved Namgung Seheon aside from the door at his stammering terror.
I had a good idea what the “red-eyed white-haired ghost” really was.
“Gah! Don’t open it! Don’t open—!”
Ignoring his desperate struggles to stop me, I opened the door again.
In the dim shrine, a pale, indistinct shape crouched before the altar with the Buddha statue.
Faint light from outside caught long white hair trailing in the gloom. The red irises peeking through were undeniably eerie in the shadows.
“Hey, your brothers are desperately looking for you.”
At my casual greeting, the huddled figure—knees hugged to chest—straightened up and waved.
It was Pang Haran.
His ever-present neck warmer lay neatly beside him, as befitting indoors.
“Long time no see, Biyeon.”
“What, it’s a person…? Wait, the Peng youngest?”
Namgung Seheon, who’d peeked in, belatedly realized the identity of the “red-eyed white-haired ghost” that had terrified him.
Pang Haran turned to the fuming Namgung Seheon—complaining his heart nearly stopped—and greeted him just as warmly.
“And you too, it’s been ages, you idiot.”