9. Cheolwon Pavilion (2)
Muk Hwi-yeong walked briskly, stealing glances at Cheonghwa's expression. Having just witnessed such a terrifying display, it wasn't easy to strike up a conversation, but he mustered his courage.
"Um, Daoist Cheonghwa."
"What is it?"
Cheonghwa's voice had returned to its usual serene calm. It was almost enough to make Hwi-yeong doubt whether the earlier outburst of anger had been a hallucination.
"Should I start calling you Master now?"
"Not yet. As you heard earlier, you're still just a temporary disciple, and you can't be assigned a formal master."
"I see."
"In the meantime, you'll live with me. Since I recommended you as a temporary disciple. You'll probably meet my disciples too."
Hm. Better not even dream of running away for the time being.
As they walked, he felt the stares of those around them. They were eyeing him curiously, wondering what this kid was doing trailing after Daoist Cheonghwa.
"Ah, this is just personal curiosity, but that agi sangin remark you made to Sa Gong-hyeon earlier..."
"What about it?"
"Did you really mean that with the same intensity toward me?"
"Of course not. I just said it because you were being treated with too much disdain."
"You're even telling lies, Daoist."
"The moment any truth leaves one's lips, it becomes a lie. The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao. Discussing the Dao with words makes it not the Dao. In this world, the only truth is the Dao itself."
Typical Daoist—masters of slippery escapes. Cheonghwa glanced at him with a faint smile.
"Anything else you're curious about?"
Hwi-yeong thought for a moment. A sudden idea flashed through his mind like lightning.
"By any chance, do you have some money on you?"
"Pardon?"
Cheonghwa's eyes filled with bewilderment, as if he'd never expected such a question.
"Oh, it's nothing major. You gave me that bill of exchange earlier, right? I want to cash it in right now. If you have money, could you exchange it for me?"
"You always exceed my expectations. I've never been asked if I have money in all my years."
"That's because you're a Daoist. Who would ask a Daoist if he has money?"
"And yet you pulled it off."
"Thank you."
Cheonghwa let out a hollow chuckle. Still, Hwi-yeong was determined to cash in the Infinite Battlefield bill. Of course, "Infinite" didn't mean he had to go all the way there—there was sure to be a branch in Gyunhyeon.
"They'll give you money at Cheolwon Pavilion if you ask. Say it's for training disciples, and they'll hand it over without much fuss. But why do you need cash anyway? There's no place to spend it in the sect. Wouldn't it be more convenient to keep the bill?"
"I like money. I prefer the real thing over paper."
"That's disqualifying talk for a Wudang disciple. A Daoist doesn't crave gold."
"Will you disqualify me then?"
"No. That's something we can teach you over time."
He'd tried to find a loophole, but Cheonghwa's defenses were ironclad.
"Well, that's perfect then. We're heading to Cheolwon Pavilion right now, so you can get it there."
"Why Cheolwon Pavilion? I thought we were going to your quarters."
"Have you forgotten? You were sentenced to labor there."
"Ah."
He'd assumed that as a lay disciple, he'd start training immediately upon becoming a core disciple. Since he was still young, it wouldn't be too late.
"What, eager to learn martial arts right away?"
Cheonghwa smiled as if reading his mind.
"You might want to dive into advanced techniques immediately, but your body isn't ready yet. First, we need to build your basic stamina and mental fortitude. Until then, I won't teach you a single oral formula."
Not reading my mind after all. Hwi-yeong had zero desire for advanced martial arts. But since he was exchanging the money, they had to head to Cheolwon Pavilion anyway.
"If you thought becoming a core disciple would exempt you from punishment, you're gravely mistaken. As a core disciple, you must set an even better example."
She told him not to call her Master, yet here she was lecturing like one. Hwi-yeong let it go in one ear and out the other. He had no reason to take life or attitude advice from her. After all, he was an expert in his own field, and he took pride in that.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Cheonghwa launched into a lengthy speech about the proper conduct for a Wudang core disciple. It only stopped when they arrived at Cheolwon Pavilion. Nothing stuck in his head.
"My ears feel like they're bleeding."
"What nonsense is that?"
"Nothing."
Can't even get jokes. Daoists really had no sense of humor.
Cheonghwa went straight inside and collected the money, claiming it was for disciple training. They handed it over without question. As a merchant, Hwi-yeong couldn't fathom giving away cash so easily.
Shouldn't there be a spending plan, purchase lists, price proofs—some documentation?
Of course, as long as it ended up in his pocket, he didn't care.
But Cheonghwa tucked the money into her own bosom, not his travel pouch.
"I'll hold onto this for now."
"Pardon?"
What the hell? Hwi-yeong's mouth gaped open like his pouch.
"If I give you this hundred taels, you'll just run off again."
He flinched. He had been eyeing an escape.
"I wouldn't."
"Lying again."
He feigned innocence. It didn't work against her lie detector. But this time, he couldn't back down. He had the moral high ground.
"No, that's my money."
"Who's taking it? I'm just holding it temporarily."
"That's ridiculous. Currency's present value far exceeds its future value. Why do you think people lend money and charge interest?"
"Are you asking for interest from me?"
"No need. Just give me my money. I have rights over it."
"Core disciples aren't supposed to have personal property. Have you ever seen a Daoist flashing cash?"
"I've seen plenty."
"That's either sect funds or corrupt Daoists—nothing else."
Hwi-yeong nearly exploded. He had to get that hundred taels somehow. To him, it wasn't just money—it was talent.
Seeing his quick movements become truly his own proved the Hwi-yeong Merchant Group's effects were real.
"What do I have to do to get it?"
In the end, he retreated as a last resort. Cheonghwa smiled again.
"Finish all your labor at Cheolwon Pavilion."
"I didn't hear a time limit for the labor."
"Until the Pavilion Master says you're done."
"What kind of vague contract is that? Contracts need precise dates, feasible terms, and validity!"
"I don't know those fancy words."
Faced with her feigned ignorance, Hwi-yeong nearly raised his fist. But swinging it a hundred times wouldn't even graze her.
"...Haa. Fine."
"Good thinking."
Cheonghwa grinned. Her smile made his fists tremble again.
Right. Think positive. It was just delaying his payday. Merchants knew patience.
"Let's go meet the Pavilion Master first."
"The Pavilion Master?"
"You have to meet him since you'll be working here."
"Yes, understood."
Hwi-yeong followed her to the master's office. A man sat there with his feet propped crookedly on the desk.
"Senior Brother Cheongsu, if the Sect Leader catches you working like that, you'll get a scolding."
"Hmph. I'm already in disgrace, shipped off to Cheolwon Pavilion. What's a little more punishment?"
The man seemed to be Cheonghwa's senior brother, so he saw no need to fix his posture.
"Who's the kid?"
"Ah, the friend I mentioned. The lay disciple sentenced to labor here."
"Oh, him?"
Cheongsu glanced at Hwi-yeong's face then back to Cheonghwa.
"Worth introducing to me? He's just a lay disciple."
"Ah, he's a core disciple now. Temporary, but still."
"Core disciple? This kid?"
Cheongsu's eyes turned back to him in surprise. His gaze scanned Hwi-yeong up and down, carrying a strange power that made him feel utterly exposed.
"Doesn't look like martial prodigy material. And he's not young."
"I recommended him. He has talent."
"Well, for martial arts, you're the expert, not me."
Cheongsu yawned, losing interest. The exposed feeling vanished. He'd used internal energy to probe Hwi-yeong's body. Cheonghwa patted his shoulder.
"Senior Brother Cheongsu is a good man. He won't make things too hard for you."
"Understood."
Cheonghwa bowed politely to Cheongsu and left. Cheongsu stared at him silently. At least Cheonghwa vouched for him as a good person, so that was reassuring.
That illusion shattered the moment Cheongsu spoke.
"You damn brat."
"Pardon?"
"What tricks did you pull to go from lay disciple to core disciple?"
Ah, so that's it. Some are good seniors to one, bad brothers to another. No one pleases everyone.
Cheongsu might be a good senior to Cheonghwa, but he and Hwi-yeong weren't fated to get along.
"Then kick me out."
With his judgment clear, Hwi-yeong's tone turned curt.
"Hmph. The Sect Leader already approved it—how could I chase you off? You knew that, didn't you? Sly little fox."
"Not at all."
"Excuses. Follow me! I'll show you your duties."
Cheongsu swung his feet off the desk, shoved back his chair, and stood. Hwi-yeong followed.
The room Cheongsu led him to was filled with countless bamboo tubes and a full map of Wudang. The tubes were labeled with pavilion names, sorted by section.
"You don't look too bright, so I won't repeat myself—get it right the first time. You'll handle Samcheong Hall. Deliver the tubes labeled for it."
"Samcheong Hall?"
Hwi-yeong was stunned. Samcheong Hall was at the peak of Wudang Mountain—the farthest from Cheolwon Pavilion.
He lodged a reasonable objection.
"I haven't learned lightness skills, so deliveries will be slow."
"Figure it out, idiot."
"What time do I finish?"
"Mao hour to You hour."
From crack of dawn till just before sunset. A fancy way to say "work like a dog."
"What if I slack off on purpose?"
"You'll be expelled from Wudang."
Hwi-yeong's eyes widened. A golden opportunity! Cheongsu disliked him and outranked Cheonghwa, so he might have pull.
But the follow-up crushed his hopes.
"Unlike lay disciples, core disciples must cripple their own dantian upon leaving. How could someone excommunicated from Wudang use what we taught?"
"I haven't learned anything."
"Even the Three Disasters Heart Method—if learned here, it's Wudang's."
These bandits. Hwi-yeong ground his teeth, but he was powerless.
No matter his merchant ambitions, a shattered dantian was no small matter. It was a major acupoint—destruction meant frailty, health issues. He didn't want his second life plagued by illness.
"Start now."
Cheongsu sneered at his dazed expression and slammed the door.
"Crazy bastards."
Hwi-yeong cursed all of Wudang, stuffed his pack with Samcheong Hall tubes. Too many for one trip—he'd need multiple runs.
Made sense; it was where the Sect Leader and elders lived, so messengers galore. But why him? Strong suspicion Cheongsu just dumped it on him out of spite.
With a deep sigh, he shouldered the pack and stepped out. The steep mountain paths were bad enough loaded down; sweat poured.
Still, he gritted his teeth and steeled himself. This Cheolwon Pavilion gig was temporary.
How many hours later? An absurd sight loomed that even his resolve couldn't handle.
A cliff at least fifty zhang high blocked his path. No ridges or protrusions—just near-vertical rock. Samcheong Hall sat atop it.
"Fucking, fucking, fucking insane bastards."
Swears spilled out. How the hell was he supposed to climb this? And why build up there?
Thighs screamed, shoulders sagged. Salty sweat stung his eyes.
"Just you wait."
Once he reclaimed his merchant throne, he'd gouge Wudang on every supply.
Teeth clenched, he gripped the cliff face. Now to climb.