Breaking Free from the Torch Stand (5)

I spotted Myeongseong standing in front of the Samcheong Pavilion, his face pale as a ghost. He looked terrified, hovering at the entrance like he couldn't decide whether to go in or bolt.

"Senior Brother Myeongseong."

I called out from behind him, and he jumped out of his skin, whipping around to look.

"Oh. Junior Brother."

Myeongseong let out a sigh of relief when he saw me. But he still hesitated, mumbling without saying much. He kept stealing glances at me, looking up then turning away—clearly, he had something on his mind.

"What's up?"

"...Thanks."

"Was it that hard to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say?"

I grinned at him, and his face flushed red.

"No, it's just... I feel ashamed showing you such a pathetic side of me. What kind of senior brother am I?"

"A senior brother's gotta act like one, right?"

His face fell at my words. But I didn't get a kick out of bullying kids.

"Thing is, you're acting like one, so it's all good."

He flinched. A brief spark of joy lit his face, only to fade back to gloom.

"No way. You probably even saw me crying."

"What's wrong with crying? I've bawled my eyes out plenty."

This wasn't a lie or empty comfort. It was the truth.

Back when I was thrashing around in the swamp of inferiority, I'd cried buckets—behind the backs of people who were better talkers, better earners than me.

Looking back now, I think I could cry like that because I was dead serious about my talents and commerce. And I figured Myeongseong was the same.

"Feeling that desperate about something at your age? That's something to be proud of, Senior Brother. Seriously."

"Doesn't really hit home."

"You'll feel it yourself someday."

He tilted his head. Everyone has those moments—wondering how they managed to live so fiercely.

"Still, don't rush it. A bird perched on a torch stand for three years will pierce the heavens with one flap and shake the world with one cry."

"What're you talking about?"

"You'll see later."

"Why's everything 'later' with you?"

"'Cause you've got more days ahead than behind you."

Talking with me seemed to settle him a bit.

"Let's go, Junior Brother."

"Sure."

Myeongseong strode ahead confidently into the sect leader's chamber. Inside were already Sect Leader Cheong-ui and my master, Cheong-hwa.

"You're here."

"Yes. I'm sorry for causing you worry."

Myeongseong bowed his head deeply, but his back stayed straight. He might regret his choice, but he wouldn't crumble in despair. That, I thought, was a far greater fortune than any surge in his inner power.

I watched Sect Leader Cheong-ui and Myeongseong with bated breath. Cheong-ui stared at him sternly, face set like stone. Myeongseong clenched his fists, meeting that gaze head-on.

"Myeongseong, you ignored my words and abused the Tae-cheong Pill."

"Yes. That's true."

"A third-generation disciple defying the sect leader is an unforgivable rebellion, tantamount to extinguishing the clan's lineage."

"Yes."

Myeongseong answered meekly. It could have sounded unfair—trying to make up for his lacking talent branded as lineage-extinguishing. But now wasn't the time for me to butt in.

"Worse still is that you fell into heart demon affliction. As a Daoist, had you not neglected seated forgetting and heart fasting, you wouldn't have suffered it."

"Yes. I know."

"Confess your heart demon yourself."

Myeongseong hesitated. Cheong-ui's piercing gaze bored into him. Soon enough, resolve hardened in Myeongseong's eyes.

"I got anxious seeing my senior brothers pulling ahead. Not just them—the junior brothers too, surpassing me. It made me doubt my own talent. Then you gave me the Tae-cheong Pill. It felt like my one shot."

His voice aimed for boldness but grew thick with sobs. This was his time for self-reflection.

"Maybe I was jealous, envious of my blood brothers and martial siblings alike. That scared me. I thought I was ruining myself."

Overwhelmed, he paused, choking back sobs.

Cheong-ui fell silent a moment before speaking.

"You know your wrongs well. To set an example for the sect, I will punish you."

"I humbly accept."

Cheong-hwa gazed at him pityingly. But Myeongseong fought back tears, trying to show composure. Maybe because his junior brother—me—was watching.

"I appoint third-generation disciple Myeongseong as the next Taiji Sword Master. The representative of Wudang's Taiji Sword Master must devote himself utterly to our sect henceforth, bear duties greater than ordinary disciples, and never slack in growth."

Not just Myeongseong and me—even Cheong-hwa's eyes went wide. Myeongseong stammered, barely opening his mouth.

"Wh-what do you mean, Sect Leader?"

"Exactly as you heard. From now on, you'll train as the next Taiji Sword Master. That's your punishment."

Cheong-ui topped it off, pulling a jade box from his robe. Same as the one before—the Tae-cheong Pill.

"The next Taiji Sword Master receives one Tae-cheong Pill. The energy from the one you took has mostly dissipated, so don't repeat your mistake. Take it only when fully prepared."

"...Ah."

Myeongseong let out a short gasp, receiving the jade box. His hands trembled violently.

Cheong-hwa behind Cheong-ui blinked in shock. She probably hadn't expected such mercy.

Myeongseong gripped the box tightly in one hand and bowed deeply to Cheong-ui.

"Your grace is as vast as the sea."

"Go now. I have words for Hwi-yeong and Cheong-hwa."

"Yes."

Myeongseong bit his lip, backing out step by step. The moment he left, Cheong-hwa exhaled roughly.

"Pah. Thought I was gonna suffocate."

"Why hold your breath?"

"Didn't you basically threaten to cripple my dantian?"

Cheong-hwa glared at Cheong-ui indignantly. Looked like he'd toyed with her. A smile tugged at Cheong-ui's lips.

"Laozi said, 'Governing a great nation is like cooking a small fish.' If even a nation needs such delicacy, how much more for young disciples?"

"I worry the sect's discipline might slip because of my disciple. But he did defy you, didn't he?"

"Want me to call him back and punish him?"

"No, not that, but..."

Cheong-hwa fumbled her words. Even the one who'd shaken me earlier seemed like a toy in Cheong-ui's palm before her senior brother.

"If Myeongseong hadn't realized his fault, if he'd stiffened his neck or shown even a hint of it, I'd have punished him harshly. But he didn't. He truly repented and grew from it himself—something we should guide. How could I not reward that?"

I nodded unwittingly. Yeah. A kid with that grit and will would make it big somehow.

Educating each person their way—that was true teaching at its root.

"But the Taiji Sword Master ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trials are ongoing. Won't other disciples complain about picking him like this?"

"Appointing the Taiji Sword Master is my purview. If they complain, tell 'em to become sect leader themselves."

Cheong-hwa stuck out her tongue at his firm tone. Makes sense—the sect leader holds absolute power.

"If anyone thinks defying me is okay because of this, or that Myeongseong got undue favor, they're not refined enough. That's another task for us to nurture."

"I've learned something, Senior Brother."

"Learning has no end."

Their exchange rippled through me too. I'd fully expected Myeongseong to get disciplined. That's how organizations worked in my experience.

Rewards for good, punishment for bad. Clear reward-punishment systems kept merchant groups disciplined, so I'd run Hwi-yeong Merchant Group that way.

But the sect leader showed mercy to a young disciple. This would motivate Myeongseong massively—not just fluttering up, but kicking off the torch stand and soaring.

Had I ever examined my subordinates that closely, meting tailored rewards and punishments? No way. I'd been too busy scheming another business.

How many times had I punished those who deserved reward, or vice versa? That was leading them astray as their leader. How much impact did I have on so many?

"I've learned too, Sect Leader. Thank you."

I spoke from the heart to Cheong-ui. He smiled.

"Feeling like a martial artist now?"

"A little."

"Join as a mountain disciple even now, and I'll slot you as Taiji Sword Master."

"I'm good."

Cheong-ui smacked his lips like a fisherman who'd missed his catch. I gave him a sly smile.

Now it was my turn, not Myeongseong's.

"You rewarded him, so time to punish me?"

"I'd love to. Defying the sect leader's request? Outrageous."

Still, he didn't seem too upset, chuckling heartily. Seeing his young disciples thrive must've filled him with pride.

"What I give you is this."

Cheong-ui handed me a wooden box from the desk. Another elixir? Free was free.

"Can I open it?"

"Go ahead."

I carefully opened the box. Inside was a rolled paper. Unfurling it revealed unexpected words.

"A promissory note?"

"From Cheonha Merchant Group. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠About a thousand taels of silver."

"...And?"

"It's yours now."

Huh. I tried to suppress my grin but couldn't.

"Can a Daoist hand out cash like this so openly?"

"I just gave what you'd appreciate most. Satisfaction brings stability—that's scripture too."

Cheong-ui continued.

"Heard you started a merchant group outside. A thousand-tael note should open doors with Cheonha branch managers."

How'd he know connections matter most to merchants? Gifts should match the recipient, they say. Didn't expect a reward this perfect.

"Exactly what I needed."

"Unlike Daoists, you crave to fill voids—but to fill, you must know how to empty."

"My greed's granary just keeps growing, never satisfied."

"You're sharp; you'll learn soon enough. Whether emptying or filling brings more joy."

Cheong-ui was a good man, but I couldn't agree there. No merchant wants an empty vault.

Still, I bowed deeply in thanks for his lesson and withdrew.

Suddenly, a thousand taels richer. I could buy talents at Mujae Merchant Shop or fill more Green Forest Twelve Forms. Free money—wild card for anything.

Lost in happy dilemmas, a summons came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the messenger hall. A letter addressed to me had arrived.

Dad, maybe? Nah, he wouldn't bother.

Unrolling it, not Dad. Sender: Jo Choong-heon, my merchant group's manager.

I'd told him to send reports to Wudang if needed. Reading on, I scowled.