Chapter 63
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: A Single Word Repays a Thousand Taels of Debt
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Before I could even open my mouth, Namgung Seheon beat me to it.
"I'm telling you ahead of time, but I've kept my mouth shut the whole way."
Paeng Haran still wore that chilling expression reserved for bastards like us—the one where only the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk.
"There's no way Second Brother would have said anything... You were the one who spilled it, right, Biyeon?"
"Yeah, that's right. What happened?"
At my nonchalant reply, Paeng Haran rubbed his furrowed brow.
"Aside from being summoned by the Shaolin Abbot and receiving some inexplicable praise, nothing much happened. But my mood? It sucked."
"Why?"
"You turned all my hard work into a waste. How could I feel good about that?"
I'd painstakingly covered for him, only for him to kick it away with his own foot.
Ah, so that's what bruised his feelings. I'd noticed it before, when he suddenly said he liked me out of nowhere. This guy really takes a liking to or gets disappointed by the weirdest things.
Under his sharp gaze demanding an explanation, I cleared my throat and spoke up.
"But even if you're in a position where it's easy to get forgiven without much scolding, that false blame you took on me won't just vanish. The mistake was mine, so it's only right that I take the heat and the punishment."
I scratched my cheek, avoiding Paeng Haran's dazed stare.
No matter how shameless I am, I'm not rotten enough to exploit someone who sold me out with pure intentions.
Sure, about eighty percent of it was because Namgung Seheon's sense of loyalty fell short of Paeng Haran's, but there was still that twinge of conscience—about twenty percent—for making Paeng Haran look like a troublemaker.
And thanks to that, you at least came off as someone who honors loyalty.
From the side, Namgung Seheon clapped slowly, letting out words that could have been admiration or sarcasm.
"Wow, they call you Mount Hua's Illusion Sword, and sure enough, your tongue weaves illusions too."
"Don't dismiss my sincerity as some cheap trick."
"No, no, I'm just saying it doesn't match the reason I heard."
"People are multidimensional by nature, you boundless fool."
I clasped my hands together and recited it solemnly, like an eternal truth of the Dao. Seeing Namgung Seheon with that look like he'd been convinced, I felt uneasy. Dude, seriously watch out for cults and MLMs.
"...If that's the reason, it's not so bad."
Seeing the faint smile on Paeng Haran's lips and the amusement finally lighting his eyes, my explanation seemed to have landed.
"So, what went down with the Fist King?"
His mood softened a bit, and he asked in a gentle tone. I replied indifferently.
"Hm? Nothing much. He just suddenly asked for my father's name."
"You're skipping the part where he kept staring at you from the start?"
"Oh yeah, that happened too."
"Hmm. He watched you for a while, then suddenly asked for your father's name..."
Paeng Haran summarized our story, resting his chin on his hand before delivering a crisp conclusion.
"He probably knows your birth father."
"Huh? I was abandoned as a newborn in front of Mount Hua, not even old enough to have hair. You think it's possible to remember a baby's face from that?"
At my retort, Paeng Haran furrowed his brows and proposed a hypothesis.
"What if he's the one who brought you to Mount Hua?"
"That doesn't fit—he didn't show me any particular goodwill."
Namgung Seheon, who had been right beside me witnessing the Fist King's attitude, shot down the hypothesis. I groaned and ruffled my hair.
"From the way he watched me before asking, it sounds like seeing me reminded him of someone."
"For starters, your hair color is pretty unique."
Paeng Haran nodded as he undid my hair tie, neatly retying my messy hair.
My hair color was gradually turning from its original shade to a mix of grayish brown as I aged.
"But it's not convincing enough to say he's my birth father. If our faces are just similar, it could be a close relative instead of a parent. Like a maternal uncle or something..."
"Oh, sharp."
"It's not me being sharp—it's you being dense. Even our youngest martial sibling could make that deduction."
"By age, you're the youngest!"
Suddenly branded an idiot who couldn't even reason that far, Namgung Seheon fumed. Paeng Haran, who had wedged himself between us, let out a sigh.
"The surest way is to just ask him directly."
*Cough.* At the small cough that burst from Paeng Haran's mouth, I reflexively whipped around, scanning for his two older brothers.
I had no desire to hear them charging in with bulging eyes, berating him for letting their little brother end up like this.
Our sect elders make you train harder even if you puke from extreme training, saying it's a lack of effort, but one cough and they overreact like this?
"Looks like things are dragging on with those two. Let's head back to the Guest Hall for now. They'll summon us later if needed."
As I walked side by side with Paeng Haran and Namgung Seheon toward the Guest Hall, a sudden chill made me glance back.
I really didn't screw up anything besides forgetting to mention my affiliation during greetings, right...?
* * *
Uihyeon did his best not to show his anxiety as he faced the Yunnan Fist King, Hyuk Ugang.
It hadn't been long since the last incident—surely he hadn't caused more trouble already. He tried to reassure himself, but the ominous aura surrounding Biyeon and Hyuk Ugang whispered that his instincts were spot on.
Before Uihyeon could speak, Hyuk Ugang's heavy voice rumbled low.
"Your disciple did nothing wrong, so relax. I just called him to ask something."
"Yes, please ask away."
Uihyeon bowed lightly, his mind easing, and the question came right away.
"Do you know who his father is?"
Uihyeon shook his head calmly.
"Ten years ago, we took in that child—barely a newborn—right in front of our sect gates. We know neither his birth parents nor the story of how he came to Mount Hua. We simply raised him, seeing it as fate."
He had thought about finding the parents. But there were no traces left to follow.
Fortunately, the child grew up bright and without a single shadow, making Mount Hua his home and family rather than his faceless birth parents.
Hyuk Ugang let out a hollow, mocking laugh at the answer.
"A scar from fifteen years ago."
He tapped the large scar on his mouth. It looked quite old—clearly a sword mark.
"Your disciple looks too much like the bastard who gave me this. The rare hair color, the face, that infuriatingly arrogant and bold expression—spot on."
With each word, the hatred and killing intent in his voice thickened.
"Is he still alive?"
"I couldn't kill him."
Uihyeon swallowed dryly.
He survived leaving a sword scar on the face of one of the Ten Supremes of the Martial World. What did that imply?
Thinking of Biyeon, who displayed far superior talent than ordinary children, lent even more weight to Hyuk Ugang's conviction.
The enmities of the jianghu flow in unpredictable directions.
And he didn't want that grudge of Hyuk Ugang's directed at his own disciple.
"In this world, don't similar-looking people abound?"
"Do I seem like the type to hold your disciple and ask without reason? For them to resemble each other that much, blood ties would be the more natural explanation."
"Unfounded conviction is dangerous."
Hyuk Ugang looked down at Uihyeon—who was forcing a smile to hide his unease—with eyes full of scorn, then asked abruptly.
"The child is ten years old, right?"
Not expecting an answer, he continued his own tale without waiting for Uihyeon's response.
"Eleven years ago, that bastard left the place I had built."
At "eleven years ago," a long-forgotten memory surfaced from the depths of Uihyeon's mind.
The day Mount Hua had been thrown into chaos.
The sighs and troubled expressions of the elders and elite disciples back then, and his master's fury, all came vividly back to life.
"And exactly one year later, he returned as if nothing had happened and stained his hands with countless blood."
No. It can't be. Uihyeon desperately denied it.
"...What is it you want to say?"
"Right, as you say, resemblance alone isn't enough for certainty. So I want to confirm it."
"How?"
"Even after ten years of being cast away, wouldn't parents recognize their own child?"
He meant to force a meeting between the child and the one who abandoned him.
"Have you considered the wounds the child might suffer in that process?"
Uihyeon gritted his teeth and asked. A calm yet deceitful reply came back.
"Well, that's not my concern, is it?"
"I am Biyeon's master. A guardian with a duty to protect the child. Neither I nor Mount Hua will stand idly by if my disciple is hurt."
Uihyeon met Hyuk Ugang's eyes squarely, emphasizing each phrase. Hyuk Ugang stroked his stubbled chin at the sharp, resolute gaze directed at him and chuckled.
The young punk's playing the master role decently enough.
But that praiseworthiness couldn't quench his long-held grudge.
"Then we'll ask the child himself. Everyone wonders about their roots. If you cherish your disciple that much, shouldn't you let him choose as he wishes?"
Leaving Uihyeon frozen in the trap of his own words, Hyuk Ugang strode away.
He was quite curious what choice that reckless brat—who looked just like his nemesis—would make.
* * *
As I lounged around in the lodgings slacking off, I caught sight of Uihyeon approaching with a dark expression.
"Yeon-ah."
"Master, I really didn't do anything wrong this time!"
His heavy tone calling me made me preemptively defend myself desperately. I just forgot to mention my affiliation in the greeting, that's all.
"I know."
Uihyeon patted my head and pulled me into a hug. Not knowing what was going on, I stayed still in his arms, staring blankly, when his gentle advice reached me.
"There is no right answer, so choose what you want. But as your master, I hope you'll pick the path that doesn't hurt you."
I don't know what it is, but can you give me the options ahead of time so I can avoid the landmines? At times like this, peeking at the answers first is the best.