Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: What Was His Name Again... (1)
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A day had passed since arriving at Shaolin Temple, and including today, there were just two days left until the Nine Dragons Contest kicked off.
I figured I could've hung around for one more day, but knowing Mother's temperament, letting me stay even this long was probably her being generous.
"Son, shouldn't you help your father out?"
"Patriarch, there's barely enough time to rest or train as it is..."
Father had dragged his work all the way here, and yesterday he was tearing his hair out over it, so I lent a hand. Now he was angling to squeeze even more out of me.
After just one day of pitching in, he even floated the idea of whether I seriously had no interest in becoming his adopted son...
'Then I couldn't fuck Mother.'
I'd screwed her even while playacting as her real son, but back then it wasn't out in the open with other people.
An adopted son would have genuine inheritance rights, whereas a nominal son was just words—treated like family without the legal strings.
Sorry as I felt for Father, who was agonizing over the numbers, I couldn't become his adopted heir, so I made my escape.
Sasasasasak
Mount Song, one of the great mountains under heaven, was full of pathless thickets overgrown with brush. I deliberately picked those spots to sprint through.
Just having fast lightness skill wasn't enough. I needed the reflexes to react instinctively to surprise attacks lunging out at me.
Wouldn't dashing through the forest at top speed without snagging on branches hone that exact ability?
Father and Mother both agreed it was a solid method, so it probably was.
Faster. Even faster!
Nearly smashed into branches popping up right in my face more times than I could count.
Running like that, I eventually burst out onto a narrow trail winding through Mount Song.
"What the heck is that..."
A small carriage had one wheel sunk into a pothole on the path.
"Hey, do you folks need a hand by any chance?"
The people murmuring at the sight of me abruptly clammed up. Fair enough—someone rocketing out of the bushes like a shot arrow would look plenty suspicious.
"Uh, I was just training, not some shady character. Want me to help?"
One of them, eyeing me all awkward-like, waved me off.
"Oh no, no need! How could we bother a great hero of the martial world with something like this...!"
"A great hero of the martial world would breeze through it even easier. Mind giving me some room?"
The carriage didn't look all that heavy anyway, so I circulated my internal energy and grabbed the tilted side.
"Hup!"
The instant I hoisted up one side, the coachman whipped the horse forward, and the carriage rolled free.
I dusted off my hands with a couple of pats, then turned to the guy standing next to me.
"Might wanna check the axle—it could be busted. Better safe than sorry."
"Y-Yes...? Huh?"
He stared at me like his soul had left his body.
I'd helped out and all, but no reason to babysit some punk's feelings.
I ignored him, scooped up rocks and pebbles from around, and patched the hole as best I could for now.
That oughta do it. As I turned to head off, a woman's voice called from inside the carriage.
"You there—bring the young man who helped so I can thank him properly."
A husky mid-range timbre, dripping with allure. The kind of voice that promised some hot milf just from the sound alone.
The dazed guy hesitated before leading me to the carriage side. The window slid open, revealing a stunning milf.
'Oh... damn.'
Traces of age showed, but her beauty spun even those into pure charm.
"My deepest thanks, young hero."
"Glad I could help, madam."
"Young hero, you're participating in the Nine Dragons Contest, aren't you?"
"...Yes. That's right."
I wondered why she'd ask, but pretty much every young martial artist gathered at Shaolin right now was in the Contest, so I just nodded.
"I'd love to repay the favor, but all I have on me is this..."
I waved off the pouch she was pulling out.
"No repayment needed. If my bit of strength did the trick, that's plenty."
"Is that so?"
Even her disappointed look was gorgeous. With a milf like this, banking goodwill beat pocketing coins any day.
"Name's Kang Yun. If it's not too forward, might I have yours...?"
"...Yu Kyung. From Gansu Province."
"Got it. I'm staying at Shaolin. If you really want to repay me, maybe join me for tea sometime later."
"If the chance arises."
She took it as standard polite banter and brushed it off lightly.
Might end up as ships passing in the night if things didn't pan out, but hey, who knew—it could click.
Just like that, I tossed out the bait. No clue when she might bite, but if luck smiled, we might tangle up.
Watching Kang Yun's back as he walked away, her subordinate spoke up.
"Strange guy."
At his words, Young Ho-kyeong—the Demonic Cult's Young Leader—chuckled lightly in agreement.
"I thought the same."
All her subordinates cultivated righteous faction internal arts. No way they'd ever leak demonic qi.
But in front of a guy who clearly knew martial arts, they held back to avoid flashing righteous energy and sparking trouble.
Amused, Young Ho-kyeong tapped her fingertips on the window frame and muttered.
"Trained in Daoist internal arts, zero hang-ups about face, and no greed for loot?"
Most guys strutting around as "great heroes of the martial world" turned up their noses at petty chores like this.
Stronger than anyone, yet ashamed to lift like common labor.
Guys versed in orthodox Daoist arts like that one? Even more so.
They had the perfect cop-out too: "Daoists can't meddle in the affairs of the mundane world."
"Look into that guy."
"Pardon?"
"Nah, no need. He said he's in the Nine Dragons Contest, right?"
"Young Leader... Ma'am!"
The subordinate yelped in horror.
Heading into Shaolin's Dragon Pool and Tiger Grotto—no less, where all the major sects' key players were holed up.
Getting this far was suicidal enough.
"You're gonna make my ears bleed."
"Absolutely not—the Cult Leader would flip if he found out."
"He won't."
At Young Ho-kyeong's glib dodge, the subordinate recalled the First Elder's warning.
<She's a wild card, no telling where she'll bolt next. Might even wanna spectate the Nine Dragons Contest. If she does, wrangle a promise to bail quietly if her cover blows.>
First Elder's addendum echoed: Tell her you'll off yourself if she won't promise.
This wouldn't actually lead to suicide, would it?
The subordinate just couldn't shake the dread.
But soon enough, he realized even fretting over that was a luxury.
"Oh, and we brought that stuff this time, right? See if there's anyone here we can hook up with."
"...Pardon? You're using that here?"
"What, dump it on some middling sect instead? Even big-name righteous outfits have guys dying for power."
"..."
"Relax. Things go south, we bolt."
The subordinate's gut twisted as the Young Leader, usually so meek, started shedding her reins like a horse gone feral.
The Five Absolutes were the righteous factions' top five peerless experts.
Fist Absolute, Sword Absolute, Blade Absolute, Cloud Absolute, Flower Absolute.
Notice anything off? First three scream their specialty on sight. Last two? Not so much.
Cloud made sense—Kunlun Sect ace with killer lightness skill, swift as clouds.
But Flower? 'Cause Peng Yeon-hwa was a woman? What did flowers have to do with her?
Blade Absolute stronger or more senior?
Plenty of theories, but the real kicker: Blade Absolute hailed from the Peng Family.
"Pleased to meet you. Heard about you from Mae So-hyang—not bad. Way better than expected."
Peng Mu-do, Peng Family patriarch and blade art virtuoso known as Blade Absolute. Peng Yeon-hwa's big brother.
He was the first to seek me out.
"Long time no see, Peng Patriarch."
"You still lugging work around everywhere. Why not dump it on your underlings?"
Father cut a bulkier figure, but Peng Mu-do was smaller yet radiated far more presence.
Maybe that bold, dashing face amped it up.
"Speaking of, this kid really your nominal son? Face reminds me of you."
"That's part of why I picked him for it."
Unlike dealing with the bland Tang Patriarch, Father clearly took a shine to Peng Patriarch, chatting with a grin.
"Anyway, good to see you. Came to check out the youth Yeon-hwa taught—impressive. Surpasses expectations."
My shoulders perked up at the nod that such skill at my age was rare.
"My boy Wol-i's joining this time too. If you two cross paths in a bout, keep it civil—no rough stuff, no injuries."
"Got it."
We parted on warm terms, and Peng Mu-do headed out.
After that, famous righteous faction bigwigs dropped by our lodging now and then.
Mostly to see Mother; direct visits to me like Peng Mu-do's were rare.
Still, I sensed a certain barrier in how the guests treated me.
The Five Great Families were decent enough, but some Nine Sect folks blew in like an arctic gale—made me wonder why they bothered coming.
"It's not your fault."
Traditionally, the Five Families dominated secular turf. The Nine Sects edged them out in pure martial prowess.
But lately, absolute expert ratios evened up—and the pinnacle Sword Saint was Huangbo Family stock to boot.
Pride stung, the Nine Sects were pushing harder into the secular sphere via lay disciples.
Like shaking down regions for "protection fees" while warding off market mishaps.
'What the hell? That's straight-up gangsters.'
Naturally, bad blood brewed, and even with half-cut ties, as Mother's nominal son from the Zhuge Family, I got slotted on the Five Families side.
"What a utterly pointless mess."
"Tell me about it. Tangling with the prestigious righteous factions' word games and ego trips has always been exhausting."
Father chimed in. From no-name rising star to Zhuge son-in-law, he probably felt it deeper.
Mae So-hyang took the cake—already greeted, yet dragged her son back for round two.
Storming in to flaunt his skills while others rested? Grudge ran deep.
"What's-his-name... Neung Pyeong-un?"
"...Neung Hui-yeon, son."
He took after his mother plenty—a total pretty-boy gigolo vibe. Didn't like him one bit, so next chance to clash, I'd smash him by any means.
Like that—handling visitors, drilling lightness skill when I had a breather, tinkering with Father's work when I had even more slack—
the event day finally dawned.