Oh God, Mount Hua Has Fallen (5)
"The child?"
"I sent him to the quarters and had him change his clothes. We can proceed straight to the admission ceremony now."
"I see."
Unam’s gaze dropped to the floor. Seeing that, Hyun Jong smiled faintly and spoke.
"You don’t look pleased."
"It’s not that I’m displeased so much as…"
After hesitating for a moment, Unam let out a small sigh and continued.
"I cannot claim to know all of the Sect Leader’s deeper intentions, but I find it difficult to understand why you would insist on taking that child in. Mount Hua is at the point where it ought to be reducing even one mouth if it can."
"Yes. That is true."
"He did not bring wealth like the other children, and he does not seem to possess any special talent for martial arts."
"Hmm."
"Above all, I cannot feel any benevolent energy from him at all. He seems ill-suited to a Taoist sect. And yet… why are you trying to place him among Mount Hua’s own ranks?"
At Unam’s pointed words, Hyun Jong only offered a gentle smile.
"Is that so?"
"…Sect Leader."
Unam gave a deep sigh. At times, Hyun Jong could be maddeningly opaque like this.
I can’t make sense of him.
He had served at Hyun Jong’s side for well over a decade, and yet he still could not begin to guess what lay in the sect leader’s heart. To Unam’s eyes, Hyun Jong was simply too deep a man to see through.
"Unam."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"Fate has a way of arriving unexpectedly."
Hyun Jong smiled softly.
"Perhaps that child will become Mount Hua’s light."
"…He is far too young to become Mount Hua’s light."
"That may be so."
Hyun Jong’s expression dimmed slightly.
Mount Hua’s current state was, quite simply, a candle in the wind. It was barely holding on, and it would not be strange if the sect collapsed at any moment.
That was also why Unam had felt so uneasy about bringing in Chung Myung.
What if they accepted a child into a sect that might fall apart tomorrow, only to cast him out into the streets? How devastating would that loss be?
"I know the situation is difficult."
Hyun Jong’s voice turned heavy.
"But Unam. Plum blossoms bloom even in the snow. A plum blossom that opens in bitter cold always carries a richer fragrance than any other."
"…"
"If you refuse to plant seeds because winter has come, then you also erase even the possibility of plum blossoms blooming in the snow."
"…Yes."
"Good. You may go now."
Unam quietly closed the door and stepped outside. Then he let out a sigh and lifted his head.
Every time he spoke with Hyun Jong, he always came away feeling as if his chest had been pried open and the air let back in.
But today, even after speaking with him, instead of feeling refreshed, Unam felt more stifled than before. Hyun Jong’s words still carried that old, mysterious depth, yet his mind remained unsettled—likely because of Mount Hua’s present situation.
As things stood now, Mount Hua could not be saved by its own power.
Hyun Jong had spent his entire life trying, but matters had only grown worse. At this rate, they would not make it through the year.
Whenever the thought crossed his mind that Mount Hua, a sect proud of its history and tradition, might be completely wiped out, his chest tightened and a sigh escaped him.
Where is Mount Hua going?
Unam slowly closed his eyes.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Chung Myung stared blankly down at the clothes he was wearing.
Blinding white martial robes filled his eyes. Looking at the robes embroidered with five plum blossoms over the right breast gave him a strange feeling, as if his whole body were tingling—
"No, seriously, it really is itchy."
The fabric was so poor that every time it touched his skin, it prickled painfully. If he hadn’t worn rags on his way here, he might never have adjusted to this and would’ve been in a terrible state. A month of living as a beggar had, in a way, prepared him for this.
"Tch."
Chung Myung frowned.
"They really do all kinds of things."
In the past, Mount Hua wasn’t overflowing with money like Wudang or Shaolin, but as one of the Nine Great Sects, it had still amassed a tremendous fortune.
Of course, thanks to the sect leader’s elder martial brother’s belief that there was nothing funnier than a Taoist coveting wealth, they had never been allowed to spend that money freely. Still, there had been enough to dress the disciples well and feed them decently.
And yet these clothes…
"Where the hell did those bastards put all the money?"
The treasury had probably been piled high with it!
No, forget the treasury. Mount Hua had owned so many taverns and businesses in Huayin alone—where had they sold off all that money that they’d ended up dressing the children in this kind of sackcloth?
He could understand martial training turning into a mess if the teachings had never been passed down properly, but losing the money they already had? That was incomprehensible.
Chung Myung let out a long sigh.
"Nothing here works properly."
No, stop. The more he thought about it, the more his head hurt.
Expectations only made disappointment worse.
"Anyway, I got in."
He was in. That much was true.
The worst possible disaster had happened: the Plum Blossom Sword Saint himself had entered Mount Hua as its youngest disciple. But still, he had gotten in, hadn’t he?
It wasn’t the way Chung Myung had wanted it, but he had at least succeeded in entering Mount Hua.
There were mountains of problems to solve now, but even a journey of a thousand li began with a single step, didn’t it?
No matter how difficult something was, if he worked through it methodically, there was nothing he couldn’t do. Most things in this world could be solved by beating a person down over and over until they broke…
"But where the hell is this place?"
There was a fundamental problem.
The hall Chung Myung had been brought into had once been used as a guest house. But whatever changes had taken place over the years, its old form had vanished completely, replaced by something that looked like dormitory quarters.
As Chung Myung remembered it, Mount Hua didn’t have a concept like this. New disciples immediately formed a master-disciple bond and began living in their master’s quarters.
Then what in the world was this place for?
And it’s strange to think of this as some temporary place before forming a master-disciple bond, too.
It was too well-equipped for that. No matter how he looked at it, this had been made for people to live in.
Am I the only one here?
Chung Myung quietly stepped out of the room.
A narrow hallway stretched out with rooms lined up to the left and right. It was no different from the guesthouse of old.
Chung Myung opened the door to the room next door. Inside, he saw clothing and various daily necessities.
So someone really does live here.
Chung Myung tilted his head.
Who would be living in a guesthouse like this, anyway?
"Who are you?"
Chung Myung turned his head.
Huh.
He hadn’t noticed someone approaching! What a mistake.
Ah. Right, I don’t have martial arts right now, do I?
Even after coming to Mount Hua, he had done nothing but grind away at that damned Six Harmony Qi Art. Thanks to that, his body was becoming sturdier than ever, and the foundations laid at the bottom were growing into a vast plain… but in practical terms, all he really had available right now was the sliver of inner energy he had managed to gather.
With inner energy that barely existed, teetering on the fine line between presence and absence, he couldn’t maintain the same senses he’d had in his previous life.
"Who the hell are you, snooping around in someone else’s room? Are you a thief or something?"
Quite a foul mouth on him.
The boy looked about Chung Myung’s age. As the boy shouted, several others came rushing up the stairs.
"What’s going on?"
"Jo Gul! What are you doing?"
The boy called Jo Gul jabbed a finger at Chung Myung.
"This bastard was peeking into my room."
"Who’s he?"
"Looks like a new one."
Chung Myung’s gaze drifted up to the ceiling of the hallway.
Why are you still alive, exactly?
What a nasty sight this was.
It was bad enough having to watch a bunch of green children pointing fingers and barking at him, but from the looks of it they were third-generation disciples. By seniority alone, Chung Myung was their great-great-grandfather.
Well, if they didn’t know any better, that made sense enough.
But how was he supposed to deal with kids belonging to a Taoist sect who spoke like neighborhood thugs trying to intimidate someone? He was just about ready to start thinking seriously about where and how to fix their rotten manners when—
"What’s all this commotion!"
"Gah!"
"Senior Martial Uncle Un Geom!"
At the voice from below, the children quickly scattered to either side. A man climbed the stairs, and the moment he saw them, he frowned.
Severity seeped from his face and gestures. He had the kind of strictness that made it feel as though not a single drop of blood would come out even if you pricked him with a needle.
The man called Un Geom swept everyone with a sharp gaze worthy of the sword in his taoist name.
"Why are you making such a racket and running back to the hall during training time? Who told you it was all right to slack off?"
"N-no, it’s not that… our martial robes got dirty, so we came back to get replacements."
"Excuses like that, are they!"
"We’re sorry."
The children snapped to attention in fright. Even so, they couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Chung Myung.
"And you?"
"My name is Chung Myung."
"So you’re the child who entered White Plum Hall today."
"White Plum Hall?"
"This is White Plum Hall. It’s the dormitory where Mount Hua’s third-generation disciples live together. Did you not hear?"
"…A dormitory?"
The man frowned.
"Do you not know that when a senior of the sect asks you a question, it is proper etiquette to answer first rather than question them in return?"
"Ah, yes. I’m sorry."
Senior. Right.
…Damn it.
For a moment, Chung Myung felt strangely hollow. The children who had not even entered Mount Hua when he had once dominated it now had to be treated as his seniors.
So this is what non-possession means.
So this was the realm of true Daoists—one had to lay down both status and face. He had spent an entire lifetime in contemplation and never reached this level, only to be forced into it like this.
He really might ascend to heaven at this rate.
"You, too, come out here."
"Pardon?"
"You’ll have to train sooner or later. A day earlier won’t change much. Wasting time for no reason isn’t something a practitioner should do either."
Even Chung Myung could agree with that.
To change this miserable situation, he needed to become stronger as quickly as possible. To do that, he absolutely needed time and an environment where he could focus on training.
The problem was that what they intended to teach him was basic martial arts completely useless to Chung Myung.
At this point, I’m the one who should be teaching you.
"Come down."
As the man walked off first, the children hurried after him. One of them glanced sideways, then turned back toward Chung Myung.
It was the kid they had called Jo Gul earlier.
"See you tonight."
"…"
"I’ll teach you some manners."
"…Sure, sure."
"Try running and you’ll get hit even more."
"Yeah, yeah."
"You bastard!"
"What are you doing!"
At Un Geom’s sharp rebuke, the child yelped in panic.
"I-I’m coming right now, Senior Martial Uncle!"
Watching the boy sprint ahead, Chung Myung let out a long sigh.
"Should probably be nice to them."
They were still adorable junior disciples of the sect, after all.
Of course, the way Chung Myung showed affection toward children might be a little different from other people’s. But whatever.
"That’s their problem."
With a snort, Chung Myung headed down below.