Chapter 64
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Schrödinger's Secret of Birth
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The next day.
In front of the Fist King who had come to find me, I cupped my fists confidently and let out my greeting.
“The martial world’s youngest scholar receiving Mount Hua’s teachings, Biyeon, greets the Yunam Fist King!”
How about that? Nailed it this time, right? After my resounding greeting, I looked up with a proud face, only for the Fist King—who wore a complicated expression—to correct my words.
“Not ‘receiving’. ‘Grasping’.”
“Ah, right. Grasping. Should I greet again?”
“No need.”
The Fist King waved his hand, signaling to drop it. I relaxed for a moment, but then he lifted the corner of his mouth and got to the point of why he’d called me.
“Aren’t you curious about your birth father?”
“Are you sure he’s really my birth father?”
At my skeptical retort, the Fist King stroked the scar on his mouth and replied softly.
“You’ll only know for sure once you meet him yourself.”
What? So it’s Schrödinger’s secret of birth, unknowable until we meet?
He let out a chuckle at my dumbfounded expression and asked again.
“Want to meet him?”
Only now did I understand what Uihyeon had told me yesterday while holding me back. Something about making a choice without regrets.
My deliberation was very brief. My answer was already decided.
“No.”
The Fist King stared down at me steadily after my immediate refusal, then asked curtly.
“Why?”
“Not curious.”
The moment I received my dharma name, my ties to the secular world were severed anyway.
Whether my parents had no choice but to lose me due to some unavoidable circumstances, or whether they simply abandoned me—it didn’t matter.
I’m not someone’s child, nor an orphan abandoned before my sect. I’m Mount Hua’s 28th-generation disciple and the great pirate of the Plum Sword Vessel, Biyeon.
“Better to live without knowing who he is or why, sparing myself the emotional waste of resentment or whatever. They say stray thoughts ruin your sword swings.”
A disbelieving chuckle escaped him, but I shrugged indifferently and added one more line.
“And if I go and meet him and he’s not my father but just some unrelated uncle, it’d be awkward for both of us.”
A brief silence. Then thunderous laughter erupted from the Fist King.
“Ha ha ha ha! What a masterful answer!”
Thwack. A large, rough palm landed on my crown, ruffling my hair wildly.
“Very well. If that’s your choice, I’ll respect it. That was the condition I offered, after all.”
Saying he’ll respect something that’s obvious. Was he planning to drag me along by force if I refused?
Weaklings don’t even get respect. That’s why the law of the jungle is so tragic.
Sigh. If I don’t want to deal with this anymore, I need to reach the Flower Realm quick and become the martial world’s Lü Bu, using the Ten Supremes as combat power measuring sticks while preying on the strong.
I swallowed my bursting sigh with effort, and the Fist King smirked mockingly as he tapped my head.
“Here’s some advice: at least learn to hide your expressions, kid.”
“Huh?”
I widened my eyes innocently as if to say, *When did I make a face?* and looked up at him.
“Looking closer, you don’t really resemble him after all.”
The Fist King barked a hearty laugh, withdrew his hand from my head, turned his body, and let out a small sigh of regret.
Life in the jianghu is tough when you get picked on just for looking alike!
* * *
“So I just said no. I am curious why they abandoned me right in front of Mount Hua of all places, but not curious enough to actually go meet them and ask.”
“You did well. Your will comes first, naturally.”
Paeng Haran patted my shoulder encouragingly.
Paeng Haran and I were sitting on a flat rock in the shaded area behind the guest hall. Unlike the bustling days before, the space was quiet today.
Today was the day of the conference. Representatives from each sect and clan, along with influential masters from the righteous factions, were gathered for the discussions.
I stretched languidly and hummed.
“I heard the last conference was about where to place the Murim Alliance’s main branch. Wonder what this one’s about? I thought they barely settled the last one.”
“You didn’t hear? This time it’s—”
“Hey, buzz off already!”
A sharp shout from nearby cut off Paeng Haran’s words. The familiar voice made Paeng Haran’s brow twitch.
“No can do. Your father specifically instructed us to keep watch so you don’t cause any more trouble. If you hate it, go back to the lodgings.”
“Right, what’s so hard about staying put in the lodgings?”
Namgung Seheon, struggling to walk with a boy and girl each clinging to his arms, spotted us and immediately changed direction toward us.
“Hey, get these kids off me!”
As he approached, I got a clear look at the faces hanging off him. The boy looked familiar—he was the Zhuge Family kid who’d been stuck to Namgung Seheon two years ago.
I’d only glanced at him, but he flinched noticeably, let go of Namgung Seheon’s arm, and slipped behind his back. I raised a brow at the Zhuge kid.
“Did I beat up Namgung Seheon back then, or did I beat you up?”
The response came not from the Zhuge kid hiding behind, but from the girl still firmly gripping Namgung Seheon’s arm.
“Oh my god. Young master, getting beaten by just anyone? And you, Ah-yun, scared of just anyone?”
One strike, three kills. The impact is insane.
Namgung Seheon pried the girl off irritably and furrowed his brow.
“Just anyone? Why’s he just anyone?”
“If he’s someone you’ve seen at a clan meeting, then who is he?”
I replied indifferently to her question, which reeked of readiness to dismiss me.
“Well, yeah. My affiliation isn’t a clan.”
The girl slowly scanned me, her gaze stopping at the plum blossom emblem on my chest. Her face stiffened slightly, then she flashed a smooth smile and cupped her fists.
“Ah, so you’re a Core Disciple of Mount Hua. I’m Zhuge Hui of the Zhuge Family. And this is Zhuge Yun, my twin.”
Talk about a Namgung Patriarch-level pivot.
“I apologize for not recognizing you right away, bringing a young third-generation disciple to the conference and all. Please forgive me.”
Paeng Haran, who’d been quietly observing, chimed in as Zhuge Hui covered her mouth with a fan she’d pulled out.
“Your eyesight’s lacking. I recommend at least observing people properly before dismissing them next time.”
At the gentle sarcasm, Zhuge Hui’s eyes above the fan trembled.
“Didn’t I just apologize, Young Master Paeng?”
“This time Biyeon’s kindness let it slide, but if you pick the wrong person next time, a mere ‘forgive me’ might not cut it. Just some advice.”
Zhuge Hui fanned herself furiously, her face slightly flushed. Paeng Haran’s jab had hit home.
But she didn’t stop glaring sharply at Paeng Haran.
Just watching made me feel drained. Why’d it suddenly turn into a socialite showdown?
The jianghu’s decorum has hit rock bottom. Why not keep it wuxia-style with clean blows and done?
Namgung Seheon, standing in front of me, muttered, *“Have all the nice people died...?”* I kicked his shin with my toe.
Namgung Seheon clutched his shin and groaned. Leaving him be, I stood up and inserted myself between the tense standoff, lightly cupping my fists toward Zhuge Hui.
“I’m Biyeon of Mount Hua.”
I’m not particularly fond of types like Zhuge Hui. People who value background over personal character in relationships.
But keeping them close makes building useful connections easier.
With Mount Hua’s name backing me, I’d be a pass for Zhuge Hui. Not a bad idea to maintain light ties.
I flashed a friendly smile, and she nodded slightly in return.
As I sat back down, Namgung Seheon plopped beside me, brushing back his bangs with his signature cocky grin.
“Hey, Zhuge Yun. Let’s compromise. I’ll stay put here, so no dragging me back to the lodgings.”
“Then we’ll take our leave. Let’s go, Biyeon.”
Paeng Haran smiled and stood, beckoning me. As I rose to follow, my arm was grabbed.
I turned to see Namgung Seheon looking as flustered as I felt, staring up at me.
“Let go?”
“You’re really leaving?”
“Yeah, the rock’s narrow. Making room for you three to sit comfortably.”
“Comfortably my ass. We’re only here because of you, and if you leave—oops!”
Namgung Seheon, grumbling, realized what he’d said and hurriedly clamped his mouth shut. His face and ear tips flushed red instantly.
“Oh, really? So you’re here because of me. Got it.”
“No, I mean—not! Slip of the tongue!”
“Not a very good excuse, young master. It was awfully clear for a slip.”
Namgung Seheon denied it desperately, but under the four pairs of eyes gleaming with *gotcha*, he buried his face in his raised knees, mumbling something incoherent.
Leaving him be, Paeng Haran and the Zhuge twins sat on the rock.
Zhuge Yun, perhaps worried I’d hit Namgung Seheon again, stubbornly wedged himself into the narrow gap between me and Namgung Seheon.
I was impressed by his resolve—sitting right next to me yet maximizing the space between us, refusing to even glance my way.
“So, shall we continue our chat, leaving them be?”
“Sure. What were we talking about? The Murim Alliance conference topic?”
“Yeah, this conference is about placing the Murim Alliance’s sub-branches—”
“No, it’s not.”
Zhuge Hui, perched at the edge of the rock and eyeing her twin pitifully, turned to us and cut off Paeng Haran.