Chapter 15
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: The Punchable Charlatan
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“…”
As Mujin silently stared at the Daoist with narrowed eyes, Masok quickly spoke up.
“Young Master! You must greet the Daoist who has come all this way to treat you! My apologies. It seems our Young Master is still far from a full recovery…”
-Thwack.
Mujin kicked Masok in the rear as he fussed and bowed, then opened his mouth.
“Step aside.”
“Young Master…”
“So. You’re from the Wudang Sect?”
The Daoist shook his head at Mujin’s abrupt and informal speech.
“There is some improvement from last time, but his condition remains severe. And yet, his speech and conduct were proper back then…”
At the mention of proper speech and conduct, Mujin glanced at Masok.
“Last time, was I… in my right mind?”
It was a troublesome question to ask himself.
“Yes…”
“Back then, you bowed your head, saying you had to live for your two younger siblings. For now, let’s go inside and check your condition.”
With that, the Daoist walked past Mujin and entered.
But Mujin didn’t move.
The thought of Hwa Mujin, in his frail body, bowing his head to this charlatan for the sake of his siblings, sent a surge of hot fury through his chest.
Sensing the ominous shift in Mujin’s demeanor, Masok rushed over and gripped the wrist of the hand holding the iron sword.
“Y-Young Master?”
“That big-nosed bastard. Was he scheduled to come today?”
“N-no. He was supposed to have come half a month ago… From what I heard, a major incident occurred on Mount Wudang, and he was delayed dealing with it…”
He didn’t need to hear any more to see the whole picture.
Rumors must have spread that the mentally unstable boy was set to duel the second son of the Cheonghwa Merchant Guild. Assuming he would die young, the man had cut off contact.
But when the one who was supposed to die won the duel and returned alive and well, he had clearly come sniffing around to see if there was anything left to scam.
“You didn’t give that bastard a lot of money, did you?”
“I don’t know the details, but I heard the Head Steward went into considerable debt to invite him.”
“Ahem!”
The Daoist, who had been walking ahead, stopped and turned around, clearing his throat when he noticed Mujin and Masok weren't following.
“Hah. One thing after another.”
Mujin strode forward until he stood before the Daoist.
Feeling an unnerving pressure from him, the Daoist flinched back without realizing it.
“Young Master!”
“You stay out of it.”
At Mujin’s cold voice, Masok quickly shut his mouth and retreated.
He had already seemed like a changed person, but experience had taught Masok that when Mujin’s voice turned that icy, he was capable of doing fearsome things without hesitation.
“Hmm?”
Embarrassed by his own flinch, the Daoist feigned ignorance, but Mujin leaned in until their faces were inches apart and spoke.
“You claim to carry the Daoist lineage of Wudang?”
“Th-that is correct. It is quite embarrassing to say it myself, but I am the one and only Wudang Baekseon left in this world, carrying on the essence of the nearly-extinct Daoist lineage.”
“Wudang Baekseon? I don’t recall ever hearing that a big-nosed practitioner of the Daoist lineage remained on Mount Wudang.”
Of course, Mujin couldn’t believe it.
Because in his time as the Divine Demon Jeongcheon, he had killed them all.
For him, who had mastered demonic arts, the very antithesis were the Daoists who carried the Daoist lineage.
Sacred energy was the opposite of demonic energy.
But that didn’t mean demonic energy was always powerless before sacred energy.
Being opposites worked both ways.
Sacred energy, too, was bound to falter before powerful demonic energy.
On the day of the final battle with the Nine Great Sects.
The Daoists of the Wudang lineage had all gathered and formed a grand formation to capture Jeongcheon. In response, Jeongcheon had slaughtered every last one of them as they unleashed their binding sacred energy.
He had cut down even the young Daoists who had barely shed their boyish looks, and in return, he had suffered a fatal wound that forced him into a mutual destruction with the masters of the Nine Great Sects.
‘If it weren’t for those big-nosed bastards, my life wouldn’t have ended there.’
It was only natural that the grudge would carry over, even across lifetimes, to Mujin.
‘How dare he use the name of the Daoist lineage in front of me?!’
Being scammed was infuriating enough, but the fact that the scammer invoked the name of the Wudang Daoist lineage, a source of deep-seated resentment, left Mujin in a foul mood.
“I-I may not look like it, but…”
“Hey, big-nose.”
Mujin cut the Daoist off mid-sentence.
“What is it?”
“If you’re a fake, just say so now. After this, no matter what you say, I’ll believe you’re a Daoist of the Wudang lineage until the very end.”
At those words, the color drained from the Daoist’s face.
“Wh-what are you talking about? I am the real…”
“Good. Do that. I’ll believe you’re the real deal, too.”
With that, Mujin raised his iron sword.
“Hiiiek! What are you doing?! H-has your madness returned… Hey! Don’t just stand there, stop him!”
The Daoist fell backward and reached a hand toward Masok.
But Masok just shook his head with a regretful expression.
“It seems the Young Master is quite serious right now, so even I can’t stop him. Sir Daoist. Perhaps you could use your sacred energy to treat…”
“What! To hell with sacred energy! I’m about to die…”
-Clang!
“Guhhhh…”
The moment Mujin’s iron sword fell between the Daoist’s legs, the man foamed at the mouth and passed out.
“What a coward. The real Daoists of the lineage wouldn’t even blink at something like this.”
As Masok cautiously approached, he asked.
“Are you saying he’s a fake?”
“Of course, he is. If there were a true Daoist of the lineage left in Wudang, he’d be holed up in the mountains training his successors. You think he’d be mad enough to wander around for pocket change? Especially without any of Wudang’s swordsmen as an escort? It’s nonsense.”
Perhaps one of the ones he hadn’t managed to kill in his past life had survived.
But would the Wudang Sect allow the sole survivor carrying the Daoist lineage to wander around so carelessly?
The Wudang he had known was not such a thoughtless and sloppy sect.
“So what will you do now?”
“What do you mean? Go get some cold water.”
-Splash!
No sooner had Masok thrown the cold water on him than the Daoist began to flop around like a freshly caught fish.
“Aaargh! My manhood!!”
He clutched his crotch with both hands, then sent a quizzical glance between his legs at his perfectly intact member before slowly raising his head.
“…”
“If you’re going to run a scam, you have to know your limits.”
“Ahem! I am…”
“You see, I! I don’t like big-noses. And among them, I grind my teeth in my sleep just thinking about the ones from the Daoist lineage. So if I ever meet one, I’ll be sure to tear them limb from limb.”
At Mujin’s words, the Daoist’s face grew haggard.
“I-I am… not a Daoist of the Wudang lineage! The truth is, I was just a hermit meditating in the mountains, but it was hard to make a living…”
“Bullshit. A hermit from the mountains carries a Yang Stone in his sleeve?”
Startled by the mention of the stone, the Daoist covered his sleeve.
“What’s a Yang Stone?”
At Masok’s question, Mujin answered as if it were nothing.
“It’s also called a sunstone. A rock that has been in a place full of yang energy for a long time. It absorbs yang energy, so there’s nothing better for maintaining body heat in winter. Leave it in a warm spot for about two hours, and it’ll give off heat all day. But it’s a rare stone. It would fetch at least ten gold pieces. Not something a poor Daoist would carry.”
“Whoa. Such a wondrous stone exists?”
“But in the middle of summer like this, only a madman or a charlatan posing as a Daoist would carry that expensive rock in his sleeve. They spout nonsense about sacred energy, make their hands feel intensely hot, and trick common folk into giving them money for blessings and whatnot.”
“Ah! Now that you mention it, during the last treatment, he showed me a hand filled with immense heat, claiming it was the power of sacred energy… Head Steward Do said that for someone without inner energy to perform such a feat, he must be the one and only Wudang Baekseon…”
“That old man really knows nothing about the world.”
As Mujin effortlessly unraveled his deception, the Daoist’s face grew paler and paler.
“So what will you do now? Are you going to kill him like you did with the Defense Squad?”
Seeing Masok’s anxious expression, Mujin tilted his head.
“Well… he scammed a martial family, so I can’t just let it go. If I send him away unharmed, others will look down on the Yeomhwa Family. I’ll have to cut off his limbs. Or maybe just cut off his manhood and make him a eunuch.”
At the thought of his limbs and his precious member being severed, the Daoist dropped to his knees and began to kowtow.
“P-p-please! Just spare my life! I beg you, just my life…”
“I’m not going to kill you. If I kill you, how will I get back the money you scammed? I’ll just cut something off…”
“Please! If you let me live with all my limbs intact, I will!”
“You will? What will you do?”
“I-I will…”
“I’m asking what you have to offer.”
The Daoist’s eyes darted around rapidly.
“I will return all the money I scammed.”
“That’s a given. What about the price for your limbs and your manhood?”
“O-of course, I’ll pay!”
Mujin turned to Masok and spoke.
“Go get the Head Steward.”
Masok scurried across the training ground.
A short while later, the Head Steward, looking as if he’d been dragged by Masok without knowing the full story, approached. His expression turned deathly pale as he got closer.
“Young Master!!!!”
Spotting the man he believed to be Wudang Baekseon kneeling and trembling, the Head Steward let out a roar and ran over.
“Y-you… Wh-what have you done…”
The Head Steward couldn't even finish his sentence, imagining the fallout from harming the last Daoist of the Wudang lineage.
Just as his already pale face, not yet fully recovered from his own injury, was about to turn even whiter.
“He’s a con artist.”
“Yes! So, the con artist… What? A con artist? Who? This man is…”
Muttering that it was impossible, the Head Steward moved to help the kneeling Daoist up, but he stopped when he saw the man’s face. The face that had once been filled with dignity and sacred energy was now twisted into a servile grin. It was then he realized something was wrong.
Was the proud Daoist of the Wudang lineage, who boasted of his noble bearing, a man capable of making such an expression?
-Riiip!
Mujin grabbed the Daoist’s chest-length beard and pulled. It came off with a tearing sound.
Next, he grabbed the long, white eyebrows and ripped them off as well.
“You put a lot of effort into pasting these on. I had my doubts.”
With the white beard and eyebrows gone, the Daoist’s face looked strangely off.
Despite the wrinkles around his eyes and on his face, the skin hidden by his mouth and eyebrows was taut, creating a sense of disharmony.
“Your disguise skills are truly remarkable.”
“Yes… It’s a business where appearances are important…”
Business? What kind of business would the last remaining Daoist of Wudang be involved in?
“Still don’t get it? Head Steward. You got swindled. Tsk tsk. So old, yet so naive.”
At Mujin’s tongue-clicking, the Head Steward’s face grew redder and redder.
He had trusted Wudang Baekseon as his last hope and poured nearly fifty gold pieces into him.
He had thought the money wasn’t a waste if it could cure Mujin, and he had run himself ragged trying to procure the funds.
And it was all a scam?
Sensing the murderous aura emanating from the Head Steward, Mujin spoke.
“I’ve decided not to kill him, so don’t even think about it.”
“Unacceptable. We must kill him and hang his head on display to show the whole world what happens when you try to scam the Yeomhwa Family!”
At the voice filled with killing intent, the Daoist’s body curled into a ball.
“That’s not a bad idea, but we need to get the money back first. How much did you give him?”
At the mention of money, the Head Steward’s straying reason returned.
As if a switch had been flipped, he regained his composure and spoke.
“Fifty pieces! Fifty gold pieces!”
“It’s a wonder you managed to raise such a sum in our dire straits.”
“It’s all… debt…”
“Hoo.”
“I’m afraid to even know how much debt you’ve taken on. You heard him, now hand it over. Fifty gold pieces.”
“W-well, I don’t have it with me right now…”
“Of course you don’t. Lead the way. Where is it?”
“…”
Seeing his troubled expression, Mujin narrowed his eyes.
“It’ll be hard to walk if I cut off your legs, so maybe I should cut off your arms instead?”
At his words, the Daoist quickly scrambled to his feet and led the way.
“It’s not far from Seochang. If we ride horses, we can get there in four hours!”
“Four hours away means Geumyang?”
“Yes! That’s right!”
“I’ll be back. You should calm that murderous aura of yours. It’s not a good look for an old man to be leaking killing intent everywhere.”
With that, Mujin disappeared from the grounds, pushing the Daoist ahead of him. Masok gave the Head Steward an awkward bow.
“S-Sir. I will go and attend to the Young Master.”
Left alone in the training ground, the Head Steward clenched his fists, his hands trembling.
Ten years had passed since he reached the age where one is said to know the will of the heavens.
Yet, far from knowing the will of the heavens, he had been scammed out of a fortune by a third-rate con artist. A wave of regret washed over him, making him wonder if he had lived his life in vain.