A Slightly Twisted World - 3
Guided by Jang U, I arrived at the Baekryeon Cult Leader's residence, which was modest compared to its renowned prestige and authority. Of course, even this modest scale easily surpassed the mansions of most provincial wealthy families. But in this era, people believed that the bigger and more ostentatious something was, the more it reflected their own authority. For a residence belonging to royalty and a religious leader, it should have been on par with—or even grander than—the king's.
Is it frugality, or self-restraint?
Yet the Baekryeon Cult Leader's authority was lofty. So lofty that even the Emperor showed him respect—which, conversely, meant it was at a level that could threaten the Emperor's own authority. If a religious leader revered by scholars and commoners in the outskirts started flaunting extravagance as well? The Emperor's respect would turn into the blade of an executioner's axe in no time.
So if the modest residence stemmed from frugality, he was the perfect man to lead the cult. If it was self-restraint, then he was qualified to do so.
"Then I'll take my leave!"
"Yes, you've worked hard."
I watched Jang U retreat briskly before stepping into the residence. Whether it was frugality or restraint didn't matter. What counted was that the Cult Leader was a man of sound judgment and keen insight. Unlike the King, who was surrounded by eccentrics and oddballs, the Cult Leader was remarkably normal and gentle.
I'll wrap this up quick and head home.
That's why standing silently behind him like a screen during the ritual at Aishan would suffice. Sure, Aishan being in the middle of the ocean was a bit annoying, but it wasn't like I'd have to swim there. A true stroke of luck.
I felt like I was dying. Not because of the Cult Leader, but some other variable.
"Are you all right, sir?"
"No... not at all..."
Lying corpse-like on the deck, I heard Jo Wi-cheo approach with his usual calm demeanor, hands clasped behind his back. It was pathetic. I could understand him, a peak realm master, staying composed in extreme conditions. I'd trained in martial arts myself—I shouldn't be suffering this much from mere seasickness. I might be clumsy fighting on a ship, but dying from it? No way.
But here we were.
"The resentful spirits, the spirits are wailing!"
"Toss some offerings into the sea! It's gonna capsize at this rate!"
I let out a dying sigh as I watched the Baekryeon followers scrambling breathlessly across the deck. It really felt like the vengeful spirits of those who died at Aishan were churning up the waves. Otherwise, how could I—a man taught enthusiastically by my father—end up like this?
Is this what they mean by 'monsters and freaks, begone'?
Maybe the pure 100% otherworlder reincarnator—a freakish monster—was freaking out because one had approached them. But that thought just pissed me off. Was I the only freak? My great-grandfather was one too.
"Han Un. Are you okay?"
"Ah, Cult Leader."
As I inwardly cursed the resentful spirits for their blatant discrimination, the Baekryeon Cult Leader approached with a hearty chuckle.
"Goodness, what will become of the young if they suffer like this? Even this old man is fine."
I bristled for a moment. Wasn't it a massive provocation for one of Daesong's Twelve Great Masters to call himself an "old man"?
"Haha, I have no excuse."
But I held back. Unlike a certain Dochalwon Left Censor-in-Chief, the Cult Leader wasn't the type to say such things with malice. Besides, even if I snapped, nothing would change. What could a guy outmatched in status and strength do?
"When your grandfather worried that his eldest grandson was frail, I wondered what he meant. Now I see why."
"No one looks sturdy in his eyes. Even my father was only recently deemed 'adequate.'"
"Pffft... True enough. He's always had high standards."
The Cult Leader laughed long and hard before slapping my shoulder vigorously. It nearly made me hurl—I had to swallow the urge to tell him to stop.
"Well, from what I've heard, it seems you'll be away from the capital for a while... but when you return, please give my regards to your grandfather."
"Of course. I'll make sure to relay it."
I nodded with a wry smile at what wasn't quite a request. Telling someone to their face, "You don't seem like you'll be going home anytime soon," was a bit much.
Watching Han Un stagger into the cabin, I couldn't help but chuckle. Giwang's grandson, who always appeared unbreakable even with a broken arm or an arrow in his leg, showing such weakness.
The times have truly changed.
It felt like a sign that peace had finally come to the Central Plains, warming my heart. In the past, to avoid being underestimated by the Mongols or giving openings to internal traitors, he endured pain silently and rose. No matter the humiliation, he pretended it was nothing.
But now, there was no need. He could show irritation if annoyed, admit pain if it hurt. The Central Plains had become a land where saints embraced weaknesses, not bandits who exploited them.
We had made it so. With the blood and tears of countless comrades.
"Seong takes after me, but Un seems to have his daughter-in-law's brains."
I recalled when Giwang, wandering the land, barged into Baekryeon laughing uproariously. His son was a natural-born warrior like him, but his grandson took after his scholarly daughter-in-law, he boasted. Honestly, one woman's influence wouldn't erase a warrior bloodline, but I let it slide. Disagreeing with Giwang just led to sulking, tiring everyone.
"I want to raise Un as a civil official."
Even when he said he'd hand a brush to Han Se-chung's descendant, I shrugged it off. He was just dazzled by the boy's wits now; time would send him to the military.
But no. Giwang actually sent his grandson to the Dochalwon—a shocking move.
"Pardon me, but have you lost your mind?"
"Royals can say anything, huh."
The shock lingered. So much so that on his second visit, I bluntly checked his sanity.
"This era needs the scholar's brush, not the warrior's sword. We can't rule the world with blades anymore."
His response was profoundly wise, uncharacteristic of a hardcore martial artist—doubling the impact. He was right. Like the old Song favoring scholars, modern Daesong must be governed by brushes, not swords. We took up swords to drive out the vile Mongols, but with the world changed, now we take up brushes.
Sending his grandson to the Dochalwon was the right choice. We built the world with swords; our children and grandchildren will protect it with brushes. What a magnificent tale.
...Though the blemishes requiring swords remain a problem.
The warmth soured into displeasure. A beautiful world, yet stains lingered. Unforgivable stains under heaven.
Murim.
The name alone made my blood boil; I closed my eyes quietly. Despite reaching profound realms and age, thinking of those Murim cowards stirred my emotions. When comrades steeled for death to right the world's order, they stayed silent—cowards. Yet they still stirred trouble in provinces, shamelessly. Refusing to accept the changing era and their obsolescence—losers. Tormenting civil officials who should focus on the people, wasting their time—Daesong's trash.
I want to eradicate them wholesale.
But Great-Grandfather decreed punishing active betrayers was fine, but executing mere bystanders was too harsh. Thanks to the Emperor's mercy, the useless Murim scum prolonged their wretched lives.
Yet if they used that life to hinder the future, to tear at the world we build with brushes?
I must petition the Emperor for extermination.
Even if it deviated from Great-Grandfather's teachings. Still, I hoped it wouldn't come to that. A world where blood had just stopped couldn't be drenched again.
We finally landed at Aishan and performed the ritual. Naturally, I don't remember the details. I just stood blankly behind the Cult Leader—what would stick in my ears?
I recall the incense being quite thick, but that's it.
"Thank you, Han Un. Thanks to you coming all this way, we soothed the spirits safely."
"You're too kind. What did I even do to warrant such words?"
So when the Cult Leader offered blessings, my head bowed automatically. Hearing gratitude from the man who led the ritual, when all I did was suffer seasickness? Unless you had skin thicker than a city wall, it'd be embarrassing. Any decent person would feel that way.
"Sometimes, just having someone there is help enough."
But the Cult Leader shook his head with his usual kind smile. Truly a gentle, good man—it's just a shame he lives in Shiwandaishan. Every meeting like this means crossing the country. Couldn't he move to Mount Tai or Song Mountain?
The only flaw is his address.
A bizarre yet dynamic reality.
"By the way, Han Un. After this is over, do you have anywhere else to go?"
Oh, shit.
Was this karma for judging the Cult Leader's flaw? My heart sank at the sudden ambush. Dong-gu Wang said something similar and shipped me off to Shiwandaishan. Terrifying. Where was the Cult Leader planning to send me—
"We can't just send off a guest who's come to this remote place. If you're not in a rush, let me prepare some things for you to take."
"I'd be grateful."
My heart sang. The Baekryeon Cult Leader truly was Daesong's last conscience.
"Not as much as Dong-gu Wang, but I have quite a few rare items. Your fiancée would love them."
I nodded eagerly. Whether I could predict returning home soon—or seeing my fiancée at all—didn't matter. Anyone who gave rewards without extra quests deserved any words.