Chapter 178: Bouquet (3)

Gong-a.

It was a profoundly meaningful dharma name.

'Forgetting myself.'

Well, Buddhism had so many similar teachings that, if you nitpicked, you could call it a common name.

But it was different if the one bearing that name hailed from the Divine Cult.

For Cultists who considered betrayal the gravest sin and took immense pride in their origins, this was a outright denial of their roots.

And not just any Cultist, either.

He was the heir of one of the foundational demonic families that had stood with the First Heavenly Demon, the Gwangmyeongseongga clan responsible for the Cult's sacred flames.

'He probably had no other choice.'

In a way that belied their foundational status, the Gwangmyeongseongga had crumbled pathetically to Sado Gwang's schemes.

Though that just went to show how terrifyingly insane Sado Gwang was in his villainy.

Hwarang must have realized it during that process: as long as the sacred flame existed, Sado Gwang would never give up.

But the sacred flame couldn't be abandoned. It could only be passed down through direct bloodlines, and Hwarang's only direct descendant was Sa Wol— the Flame of the Sacred Flame.

'Hwarang knew Sa Wol was alive.'

Unwilling to burden his one precious little sister with such immense suffering, Hwarang had chosen to distance himself from the Cult entirely.

'It's ironic that the place he ended up, nursing his vengeance, was Shaolin Temple of all places.'

Thanks to that, he'd been able to protect the sacred flame from Sado Gwang.

'Never mind the internal Cult issues caused by the sacred flame itself.'

Compared to Sado Gwang's villainy, the Cult's problems seemed trivial.

In any case, true to his dharma name Gong-a, Hwarang had forgotten everything as a Cultist and lived accordingly.

Now, in that situation, what if Hwarang and Sa Wol reunited?

What might happen when the man trying to forget everything met the sister he'd thought lost forever?

'...She might even leave my side.'

I hadn't told Sa Wol that Hwarang was at Shaolin.

Even though I'd said I would if she wanted, I still didn't know why she remained by my side.

The most plausible reason was that she wanted to repay the debt for helping her overcome her heart demon and elevating her to a Super Peak master.

After all, the essence of wuxia was fulfilling one's obligations to those who recognized you.

Still, I couldn't shake the thought that this journey might shatter both their peaces.

'What?'

Anyway, he was a dullard most times but sharp in the oddest ways.

'What are you getting at?'

'Fair point.'

Just look how obsessively Cultists guarded their 'home'—you could tell exactly how they viewed the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult as a community.

The Cult wasn't just a religion. It was a conviction, a way of life.

'Ah, so Cultists are secretly Asgardians. Dreaming of Valhalla after death, huh?'

'It's a thing.'

Anyway, if Pa Cheon was right, their reunion might not cause much fuss.

This was something even Murim Returner's info couldn't reveal.

By the time Gong-a's story came out, Sa Wol was already gone from this world.

'You think? Guess treating her well paid off.'

From the moment she awoke in that cave, I'd poured effort into winning her loyalty. She deserved that much.

'Sudden insult?'

'Oh, right. I'll just call her back and tell her, or have someone relay it.'

Pa Cheon really was Manager Kim's true successor. Was Manager Kim secretly the Heavenly Demon by isekai standards?

In the end, our departure got pushed back two days until Tak Horak returned—blame Mugyeok-i's speed for that, not him.

Thanks to the delay, I even met some folks I hadn't planned on.

One was So In-gyeol. He brought a few people to see me.

Thanks to me, he'd forged good connections, he said, and insisted I visit Taeryeong County next time. The junior disciples from minor clans and sects who'd come with him echoed the sentiment.

Not hugely valuable, but in a world where widening your network could yield unexpected gains later, I simply expressed my thanks.

'Yi Se-ryeong's handled via sorcery.'

I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠instructed Jin So-cheong to cast a spell amplifying her desire to return home rather than roam the jianghu.

Not creating emotions from nothing, just magnifying existing ones—no major side effects expected.

Probably.

There was a minor incident too: a brothel not far from the Tang Clan got half-demolished, culprit unknown.

No civilian casualties, so the Tang Clan didn't seem too concerned.

Dok Ma had kept his word. The Cultists undergoing secret experiments there were likely all rescued. Their reception upon return was another matter.

Once I'd met everyone I could, Tak Horak finally arrived, and we finished preparations.

He was a jack-of-all-trades, if clueless and dense.

Back and raring, he packed without rest, ready in a flash.

Sa Wol was gathering her bouquet.

As Pa Cheon said, the blooms in Sa Wol's bouquet were all dried up.

'Her life's been blood, revenge, and training—no wonder she's distant from flowers.'

Tak Horak spotted the bouquet and asked,

"Wasn't that for giving to Lady Jin So-cheong on Young Master's behalf? Why does Lady Sa Wol have it?"

So it was Tak Horak's doing.

Sa Wol flustered uncharacteristically, stammering. Clearly ashamed of killing the flowers.

"I gave it to her."

"Pardon?"

"I said I gave it. And while I'm at it, Tak Horak—you're dead wrong about me and Jin So-cheong. Don't overstep."

"Hic—s-sorry!"

Tak Horak paled and bowed. I accepted it moderately and told Sa Wol,

"Flowers bloom and fade in an instant, like flowers red for but a day. Put them in a vase to preserve them longer."

"...Yes. Understood."

A small episode, but things proceeded smoothly.

Word spread that we were ready, and our fellow travelers assembled.

Embarrassing after all the fuss like we were leaving right away, but a modest send-off was held.

I wasn't departing alone.

"You rascal, stay safe till we meet again. At our age, one ache doesn't heal easy."

"You take care too, brother. There's honor in elders leading, you know."

"No such thing on the road."

One-on-one, especially with the Poison King, they were dignified and grave—but together, these old codgers turned into a comedy duo.

Sensing the stares, Dang Mugi cleared his throat and said to me,

"Don't forget what I told you."

"Yes, elder."

Not just Dang Mugi—the clan head Dang Mun Su had come to see me off too.

He wore a smile. Though honorary, the Sealed Duke title held elder-level or greater authority, so he used semi-formal speech.

"Sealed Duke, take this."

Dang Mun Su handed me a thin green silk scarf-like item. Like the one from the appointment ceremony—not for the neck, but a shawl over the shoulders.

"It's a Tang Clan symbolic garment. Wear it always, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anywhere."

"Thank you."

"Never tarnish the Tang Clan's pride, wherever you go."

"I'll remember."

I draped the decorative band over my shoulders. Even I had to admit it looked good.

Next was Dang Si Hyeok. He teared up sending me off.

"Brother, come back safe."

"Yeah. You focus on your young master training."

Seeing that tugged at me unexpectedly.

I'd never had a 'home' where people saw me off like this.

'...Real melodrama hours.'

Eventually—ideally soon—I'd have to leave this world. I couldn't afford deep bonds.

Only Pa Cheon truly understood me. Even he didn't know this was the novel world of Murim Returner.

'Snap out of it. Think cliches.'

In wuxia cliches, emotions weaken you. That's why they call it the heartless jianghu.

Circulating Heavenly Demon Divine Art qi to my chest quelled the surge instantly. Versatile as ever.

"We're off."

The lineup was bizarre—impossible, even, if you knew their backgrounds.

Cultists: me, Sa Wol, Tak Horak.

Blood Cult: Jin So-cheong and her attendants (non-Cultist civilians, apparently).

Righteous faction: Paeng Yu-gun and Paeng So So.

And Paeng So So's Spear Phantom Unit.

What a mess.

Paeng Yu-gun and Paeng So So weren't sticklers for protocol, or it'd be worse—like marching with Namgung Jin's entourage of dozens.

With the numbers and Paeng Yu-gun's word, we took horses and carriages.

Music to my ears.

"Young Master."

I finished prepping and boarded the carriage.

"Let's go."

Hope the road to Shaolin stays uneventful.

"Ah, I'm starving!"

"Kid, I told you to pack plenty earlier."

"It was too spicy to eat much. Wait, Shaolin doesn't serve meat, just veggies, right?"

Right on cue, Paeng grandfather and granddaughter's voices from outside.

Trouble brewing. Guaranteed.

'...A genius. Two months to the first-rate cusp. Pure genius.'

Maeng Wi-hak marveled.

No special technique—just the basic art. Yet he'd already drawn sword qi, albeit incomplete.

'Body's potential is average, but his martial comprehension is unmatched. Once he sheds his mortal shell, that too will resolve.'

The boy smiled innocently, pure as any child—but Maeng Wi-hak, who saw auras, knew better.

The hidden intent behind it.

And that's precisely why he liked him more.

Daring to harbor ulterior motives against him, the Sword Saint and Murim Alliance Leader.

With that talent and cunning, he wouldn't drop dead before Maeng Wi-hak claimed his qi.

'The Soul Swap Great Law would've been ideal.'

But its ruins were gone now.

Better to bet everything on certainties than chase ghosts.

That was Maeng Wi-hak's way.

"You've worked hard building your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foundation."

"All thanks to Master."

"You."

Maeng Wi-hak patted Mu Gwang's head fondly—or so it seemed. No warmth in the gesture.

"Now that basics are done, real martial arts training?"

"Yes. But you can't learn my signature art yet. Your body would burn up resisting the qi. My Immeasurable Tribulation Flame Divine Art spares nothing in this world."

"It can burn everything? Even... the Heavenly Demon?"

"Heavenly Demon? I could burn the world if I wished."

"Nice. Really nice."

Mu Gwang smiled chillingly.

Pretending to be the Heavenly Demon