Chapter 68
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Since When Was Mount Hua's Foundation Plum Blossoms?
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“Puhahaha! A draw? Where’d that guy go who swore he’d win next time for sure?”
“If you’re not gonna help, then get back to work, Martial Uncle.”
I snapped curtly at Uiseong, who was clutching his stomach and laughing beside me, while I diligently scrubbed the floor of the main hall in Yeonhwa Hall.
“Alright, alright, I’ll help.”
With a grunt of effort, Uiseong scooped me up and carried me over to a window frame that towered well above my height.
Dangling in midair, I wiped the dust piled high on the frame with my rag, sending it flying everywhere.
“You rascal, you’ve gotta grip the rag properly! This isn’t your first time cleaning!”
“Achoo! It’s a wet rag, so I thought it’d be fine, achoo! Got it, achoo!”
As I sneezed repeatedly, shaking all over, Uiseong coughed along with me and quickly retreated to the back where the dust wouldn’t reach, still holding me.
“You used to fit in one arm when you were little... when did you get so big...?”
I blinked at Uiseong’s mutter as he readjusted his hold on me.
“Am I too heavy now? Wow, Martial Uncle, you’re getting old after all...”
Uiseong bristled at my added lament.
“What do you take this Martial Uncle for? I could carry you around even when you’re a full-grown adult!”
“Cough, I’d rather you didn’t. Think of my reputation and dignity.”
“Kid, puberty already? This Martial Uncle’s hurt. When you hit marriageable age, you gonna pretend you don’t know your old Martial Uncle out of embarrassment?”
“Come on, what do you take me for?”
He shook his head with a chuckle, and Uiseong’s hand gently patted my head.
“Your Eldest Senior Brother and the other martial siblings have been worrying a ton lately. Seeing that, I even told Senior Brother Uihyeon we should brace ourselves too.”
“Why? Some scheming over the next Core Disciple spot?”
The next Core Disciple was officially chosen from the first-generation disciples, but usually, a candidate was informally selected during their second-generation days.
It could be overturned, but only if someone achieved monumental merit that elevated the sect’s name or if the frontrunner made a massive blunder.
The sect’s Core Disciple was seen as the next Sect Leader and received the Violet Haze Divine Art from them.
It wasn’t just about martial prowess; leadership, responsibility, communication, decisiveness—all the qualities of a leader were weighed. So even if someone was the top in skill among disciples, or the eldest senior or youngest of their generation, not everyone could become Core Disciple.
Just look at the previous and current Mount Hua’s top swordsmen—they never made Sect Leader. The current Sect Leader, Jinmun, wasn’t even the eldest senior of his cohort.
Anyway, that’s why I’d overheard that the behind-the-scenes politicking for the Core Disciple spot was no joke.
It reminded me of something from before I even joined the sect as a kid. No wonder those pottery batch kids had been subtly excluding each other and trading barbs, only to suddenly get all chummy again. It was because of this.
Even Mount Hua, for all its Taoist ways, was still a place run by people.
“Politicking... where’d you hear that word?”
“Overheard it wandering the upper halls before.”
“They say you’ve gotta watch what you say around kids... now I see why...”
Uiseong groaned and readjusted his hold on me before continuing.
“That’s still too early for you. It’s because of the disciple kids.”
“The disciple kids?”
“Yeah, your same-batch peers. That time’s coming up for them.”
Hearing footsteps, he immediately set me down and giggled as he advised.
“So, kid, use your martial siblings as a cautionary tale. Mess up, and you’ll be teased for life.”
* * *
And I soon understood what Uiseong meant.
“Lately, Senior Brother Bihwan’s been acting weird.”
After lunch, during a short break, Bidam glanced around, confirmed Bihwan wasn’t there, and blurted it out.
“If he’s sick, tell him to go to the infirmary. Or drag him there yourselves.”
Bidam let out a deep, profound sigh at my indifferent reply, trailing off heavily.
“It’s not the kind of weird they can fix at the infirmary...”
“Exactly. It’s not just him getting chilly in the late-night cold with the dojo door wide open, moon-gazing and moaning about it. Or suddenly declaring he’s chosen a fate stained with blood on his hands, covering his face and cackling like a madman.”
Biyeop jumped in eagerly, and Bihun nodded along, smirking smugly.
“I nearly died laughing when I heard that. The blood on his hands? Just a nosebleed from sparring with the youngest senior brother.”
“No, it’s not just Senior Brother Bihwan. Everyone fourteen except Senior Brother Bihyeon’s like that. Bihwan’s just the worst, that’s all.”
Fourteen. I tallied up the ages of those showing the signs and instantly knew what time had arrived.
The stormy age. Puberty.
Biyeong, who’d been quietly listening beside me, widened his eyes and shouted.
“Oh, come to think of it, Youngest Senior Brother Biran too!”
“What about me?”
Biyeong clapped a hand over his mouth at the gruff voice from behind.
“Little punk’s already gossiping behind his senior’s back.”
Biyeong made a miserable face as Biran thwacked his head, cradling the spot with both hands and mumbling.
“I wasn’t gossiping...”
Biran couldn’t hold back his laughter at the sight and pinched Biyeong’s cheek, stretching it out.
“Poor thing, is that right, our baby? Did this senior brother misunderstand?”
Only three years older, yet treating him like a much younger kid—something that could bruise egos—but Biyeong just grinned and took it.
They say position shapes a person. Biyeong, the nominal youngest, acted even younger than me, the actual youngest.
Biran turned to me nearby, eyes twinkling with mischief as he wiggled his fingers.
I snorted and shot back.
“Do that and it’s disciple disrespect.”
“Yes, yes, our eldest junior with zero cuteness to him.”
Biran nodded with a pouty face and dropped the hand reaching for my cheek.
Like the others, Biran—fourteen this year—rubbed his earlobes nonstop and plopped down on the training ground floor. His stormy expression made me wonder what happened.
Before I could even ask while staring, Biran swept back his hair and confessed readily.
“Master chewed me out.”
“You get chewed out every day.”
Uiming and Biran were the epitome of a hopeless master-disciple pair. When a stubborn master and equally stubborn disciple met, that’s how it went.
Compared to those two bickering nonstop, Do-un and Uiseong really were the picture of a close master-disciple bond.
“This time it was serious. Master said if that’s how I feel, I should erase my name from the roster and leave the mountain right now.”
She fiddled with her reddened earlobe—probably yanked hard—and grumbled.
“What’d you even say to get ‘leave the mountain’ thrown at you?”
“He asked since when Mount Hua’s foundation was plum blossoms, and I said I’d give up learning Plum Blossom Swordsmanship, go dig through the manuals in Mugyeong Pavilion, and self-study to inherit Mount Hua’s foundational supreme art...”
Of course he’d tell her to leave. It’s basically saying she didn’t need a master anymore.
Beside her, Biyeong gaped like someone from the flat-earth era hearing the world was round.
“Foundation isn’t plum blossoms?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Before, when I said stop Six Harmonies Sword and let me bloom plum blossoms already, Grandmaster said the same thing: since when was Mount Hua martial arts’ foundation plum blossoms?”
I could roughly piece it together.
“Got it, martial sister. Now spill the real story.”
Biran whipped her head away, looking pierced, and mumbled.
“Plum Blossom Swordsmanship is what every Mount Hua disciple learns, so it’s nothing special here. So I decided to be special and make Mount Hua’s foundation my unique signature technique—”
“Mount Hua swordsmanship’s foundation is Six Harmonies.”
I cut her off before she piled on more black history and laid out the truth.
“...Why Six Harmonies all of a sudden?”
“Don’t know what ‘foundation’ means? Origin, basics, roots. What’s Mount Hua’s basic sword? Six Harmonies Sword. So what do you think Supervisor Doyul meant? ‘Don’t spout nonsense about blooming plum blossoms without mastering the basics—shut up and drill Six Harmonies Sword.’ That’s it.”
Supervisor Doyul probably didn’t realize kids this age lack the brains to interpret even that much.
No way he thought someone would take it literally and declare they’d inherit the foundational supreme art.
I patted Biran’s dazed shoulder and offered gentle encouragement.
“Well, master Six Harmonies Sword and you’re golden. Basics are everything, right? Hang in there, martial sister. Who knows? Maybe you’ll obsess over Six Harmonies Sword so hard you become a peak master using only it—a rare case. Then you’ll be special.”
Puberty’s all about wanting to stand out, be the sect’s one-and-only foundation inheritor. I get it.
“Damn, it was Six Harmonies Sword... I thought the foundational art was some badass secret manual, not just Six Harmonies Sword...!”
Biran clutched her head and rolled on the ground wailing. Biyeong’s eyes sparkled as he asked.
“Wow, Eldest Junior Brother, how do you know that?”
I couldn’t admit I’d heard it from Elder Muyeong after saying something similar, so I whistled and looked away.
Biran shot up from the ground and pointed accusingly.
“You! You said the exact same thing and got scolded by a sect elder! Right? No way a ten-year-old knows that!”
What? I never told my master I was ditching Plum Blossom Swordsmanship to inherit Mount Hua’s foundation. How’s that the same?
* * *
Having seen Biran go through it, I figured all puberty was this level.
But Biran was actually on the mild side.
“It’s not some other thing—it’s a martial art modeled after flowers that bloom once a season and fall. How trivial, haha.”
“...Did someone bash your head with a sword or what?”
Compared to Bihwan, who really seemed to have lost it.