What’s Opening? (2)
"Kekh! Kheh! Let go of this thing!"
"Where is it?"
"I told you to let go, you bastard! I’m gonna choke to death here!"
"Eh!"
Chung Myung roughly released his grip on Hong Dae-gwang’s collar. Hong Dae-gwang slumped where he sat, coughed for a while, then glared up at him and jabbed a finger in his face.
"You little brat! Don’t you know to respect your elders? I’ve eaten beggar’s rice for ten years longer than you have, at least!"
"We’re all just getting old together. Don’t make a fuss."
"Argh!"
Watching Hong Dae-gwang puff and wheeze in frustration, Chung Myung clicked his tongue inwardly.
I can’t believe I have to be treated like some kid by guys like this.
It was a truly miserable reality.
By rights, at his age, he should’ve been hearing people at the Beggars’ Sect call him “grandfather” by now, and yet… Tch.
"Anyway, where’s that letter of invitation? Don’t tell me those bastards left Mount Hua out?"
"It’s brand-new news that just came in! Unless the invitation grows wings and flies here, it’ll take a few more days!"
"Really?"
Just let them leave Mount Hua out.
He’d shave the Shaolin abbot bald and write “baldie” across his scalp.
"Doesn’t everyone know how Mount Hua’s momentum is now? Especially in the western Central Plains, that…"
Hong Dae-gwang, who had been babbling on and on, suddenly trailed off. Chung Myung tilted his head.
"What’s wrong?"
"…I was thinking."
"Yeah?"
Hong Dae-gwang’s expression had turned noticeably more serious than before.
"That… Shaolin is a sect that doesn’t pay much attention to the outside world, and… well, it’s a bit to the east, isn’t it?"
"It is."
"Th-then what if they don’t know Mount Hua’s momentum is different from before?"
"…What the hell are you talking about?"
"N-no, I mean… if Shaolin still thinks Mount Hua is a failing sect, they might not even send the invitation…"
The more he spoke, the more Chung Myung’s head tilted.
As murderous energy crept over his whole face, Hong Dae-gwang flinched and jerked back.
And as expected, flames practically shot out of Chung Myung’s mouth.
"Those bastard monks… how dare they look down on Mount Hua?"
"C-calm down, Mount Hua Divine Dragon!"
"What do they think they’ve been so special about all this time, huh?!"
Mount Hua Divine Dragon.
Shaolin had always been famous. Think about it properly.
"An invitation? What invitation are you even talking about?"
"What are you going to do?"
Chung Myung’s eyes rolled viciously this way and that.
"I’m deciding."
That didn’t look like deciding at all. It looked like he’d already made up his mind.
"W-what are you deciding?"
"Nothing serious. Maybe I’ll go storm Shaolin and make a mess of things… or maybe I’ll find another sect that got the invitation and ask politely for a transfer."
"…"
Neither of those sounded like a sane idea.
Is this really the kind of thought a Taoist priest can have?
They said each day should bring new enlightenment, yet every time he met Chung Myung, Hong Dae-gwang found himself witnessing a fresh new stage of human depravity.
"…Shaolin’s too far. Fine, Mount Song. Those Mount Song bastards will do. If I ask nicely, they’ll hand the invitation over!"
He said “nicely,” but why was his fist clenched?
By then, Hong Dae-gwang’s worries had drifted somewhere else entirely.
Would Mount Hua’s recovery of its old glory actually be a good thing?
Because this bastard would be at the center of it, wouldn’t he?
Wouldn’t the world be better off with the Demonic Sect ruling it than with Mount Hua led by this monster?
Just then Chung Myung snapped his head around, and the worrying Hong Dae-gwang flinched again.
"Did the invitation reach Mount Song?"
"S-stay calm, Mount Hua Divine Dragon! The world doesn’t move that fast!"
"No! Now!"
"It’s a martial arts conference being held by Shaolin. Just preparing for it alone takes at least three months! The invitations themselves won’t be flying out for at least another week!"
"Hmm."
Chung Myung frowned, clearly displeased.
At last, Hong Dae-gwang said, doing his best to be generous.
"And if an invitation doesn’t come to Mount Hua, I’ll make sure to petition higher up so that you receive one for sure!"
But Chung Myung narrowed his eyes and looked at him skeptically.
"You?"
"…What exactly do you take me for?"
"A beggar?"
"…"
Uh… fair enough. He was a beggar, all right…
"I’m a branch leader of the Beggars’ Sect! I have enough influence to make a petition like that!"
"Hmph. Hard to trust that."
"Ughhh."
Tears welled up at the corners of Hong Dae-gwang’s eyes.
Why did I even come all the way to Hwasan?
If he’d just stayed as the branch leader in Luoyang, he wouldn’t have had to endure this pitiful humiliation. What had possessed him to come all the way to distant Shaanxi, only to be treated like a dirty beggar sniffing after alms?
You heartless little bastard!
"Anyway, just wait a few days! The invitation will arrive."
"Fine, I get it."
Chung Myung nodded.
"So that’s settled?"
Hong Dae-gwang let out a deep sigh.
They said you’d get smacked if you stayed too close to a sharp-edged person, and this brat was the kind who came armed with the hammer himself.
At times like this, the best thing to do was get far away from him as fast as possible…
"Ah, right!"
"Huh?"
Chung Myung suddenly whipped his head back toward him as if he had just remembered something.
"Come to think of it, what happened to that beggar brat I told you to catch and hold onto? Did you nab him?"
"…"
Hong Dae-gwang’s eyes twitched.
Wow, he actually remembered that?
Wasn’t that almost pathological at this point?
"W-we did catch him. But you were gone for so long that we sent him back for now."
"What? Who gave you permission to send him back?"
"T-that’s not the important thing right now. And that guy’s probably coming to Shaolin too, so if you have business with him, just handle it there."
"That lucky little beggar bastard!"
Chung Myung’s eyes flashed.
Seeing that look, Hong Dae-gwang started to worry in earnest.
Is something actually going to happen to Shaolin or Mount Song?
Mount Song looked especially shaky… the poor souls. Why had they picked a fight with this lunatic in the first place…
And then, to Mount Song’s great good fortune—if you could call it that—a visitor arrived at Mount Hua less than three days later.
* * *
"You said you came from Shaolin?"
"Yes, Sect Leader. This humble monk is Hye Bang of Shaolin."
"Welcome to Mount Hua."
After exchanging the brief greeting, Hyun Jong regarded the guest with a grave expression.
A shaved head. A calm, steady face.
Add to that the red monk’s robes draped around his body, and all of it together created a dignified air.
So this is Shaolin.
For someone of this caliber to be sent on an errand like this—just how many masters must Shaolin have?
Truly Shaolin. It was worthy of being called the North Star of the Jianghu.
"Then what brings Shaolin to Mount Hua?"
At that, Hye Bang took an envelope from inside his robes.
"This is the invitation from the Shaolin Abbot to the Sect Leader."
"An invitation, is it…"
Hyun Jong took the envelope, opened it on the spot, and removed the invitation.
World Martial Arts Conference.
A painfully ordinary name.
But if that name came from Shaolin, then it was anything but ordinary.
Hyun Jong narrowed his eyes and unfolded the enclosed letter.
He slowly folded the letter closed again.
The tone had been beyond courteous, but no doubt identical letters were being sent to other places as well.
Though some different letter must have gone to Wudang or Mount Song.
Even from this one letter alone, he could tell how Shaolin currently viewed Mount Hua.
Come to think of it, they should have been happy just to have received an invitation at all. And yet Hyun Jong found it difficult to hide a faint bitterness.
"A martial arts conference, you say?"
"I was told you intend to gather the Sect Leaders of the various sects together. At the same time, a duel tournament will also be held for fellowship and development."
"The Sect Leaders?"
"How could that be? Participation in the dueling tournament will be limited to those under thirty."
Thirty, huh…
Hyun Jong smiled faintly and looked at Hye Bang.
"That is very good news. However… would our Mount Hua, having been pushed out of the Nine Sects and One Gang, truly be qualified to take part in such an event?"
"Amitabha. How can you say such a thing? This martial arts conference will be attended not only by the Nine Sects and One Gang, but also by the Five Great Families and other major sects. So please, do not worry."
"Hah!"
No sooner had those words been spoken than a snort came from behind them.
Hearing it, Hye Bang turned his head slightly and saw one of the people seated in the back leaning against the wall, looking at him sideways with a sullen expression.
He’s young?
A hostile stare, he could understand. Mount Hua had indeed been expelled from the Nine Sects and One Gang, and Shaolin had been among those who carried out that expulsion. That much couldn’t be denied.
But the problem was that this was the Sect Leader’s chamber in Mount Hua.
It was strange enough that a young disciple was present in such an important meeting with a guest from Shaolin. Stranger still was the fact that the disciple’s attitude was beyond anything one should be able to endure with one’s eyes.
What was even stranger was that none of the Mount Hua adults present seemed inclined to stop him. Not even Hyun Jong, the Sect Leader himself.
What a waste of a distinguished name.
Just before the crease between Hye Bang’s brows deepened further, Hyun Jong spoke again in a careful voice.
"You said there will be a dueling tournament?"
"That is correct."
"What form will it take? Surely not every disciple of every sect can participate."
"It would be wonderful if that were possible, but in practice it is difficult. Thus, regrettably, some distinction had to be made."
"Distinction?"
"Please look at the color of the invitation."
Hyun Jong lowered his gaze slightly.
"…It is silver."
"There are four kinds of invitations in all. First, the platinum invitation. A sect that receives a platinum invitation may bring roughly fifty people, with twenty disciples allowed to participate in the duel tournament."
Hyun Jong’s brows drew together.
"Then the gold invitation allows forty people, with fifteen competitors. Silver allows thirty people, with ten…"
"Hey, what kind of nonsense is this?"
"Chung Myung!"
"Hey! Hang in there! Just hang in there!"
When Chung Myung finally rolled his eyes back, the Un-generation disciples who had been on guard in case something happened rushed in and pinned him down at once.
But even while pressed to the floor, he growled like a dog that had spotted prey, then barked out furiously, "Silver invitation? Siiilver invitation? Not even gold, but silver? These bastards are taking Mount Hua for a joke!"
At that fearsome outburst, Hye Bang flinched before he realized it.
Wait, but hold on.
Had he just said Chung Myung?
Then was that the Mount Hua Divine Dragon?
How could someone like that…?
Wasn’t he an uncouth rascal to the core, someone who didn’t know the difference between occasion and place?
And yet that man was called the greatest younger expert in the world.
So the rumors in the Jianghu really are not to be trusted.
"Hey! You there!"
"…"
"Mo— no, monk!"
Struggling not to think about what that half-heard word had been, Hye Bang cleared his throat.
"You were calling for me?"
"What did Mount Song get?"
"…Pardon?"
"I asked what kind of invitation Mount Song got."
"…Platinum."
"No, but seriously, these bastards!"
Chung Myung twitched again, and Un Geom and Un Am forced him back down once more.
"Whoa there. Calm down. Calm down."
"Bring me rice cakes! Somebody bring me rice cakes!"
Still pinned to the floor, Chung Myung bared his teeth and said, "Hey, monk!"
"…"
There was no monk here except Hye Bang, but he couldn’t bring himself to point that out, so he simply nodded.
"Did you or did you not hear that Mount Hua’s younger generation beat the crap out of Mount Song’s younger generation?"
"Indeed… I heard that Mount Hua won at the Mount Hua–Mount Song Conference…"
"Mount Hua–Mount Song Conference?"
"Ah, no, Mount Hua–Mount Song. The Mount Hua–Mount Song Conference."
"And?"
"…I’m not sure I follow."
Chung Myung clicked his tongue, as if disgusted.
"Mount Hua’s younger generation clearly proved they’re superior to Mount Song’s younger generation, and those guys get a platinum invitation with twenty people allowed to participate, while we get silver and only ten? Are you kidding me right now?"
"…"
Hye Bang was left speechless.
When he thought about it, the logic was sound. The attitude was outrageous, but the reasoning itself had no hole in it.
"You’re handing out invitations, so at least think about it before you do it! Think! Hey, you bastard mo—! Mmph! Mmph-mph! Mnnngh…"
Hyun Young skillfully stuffed a rice cake into Chung Myung’s mouth. With something to chew on, Chung Myung’s eyes softened slightly. Then, for a brief moment, he fell silent and began chewing.
"Now, here’s some tea too."
Hyun Young set a teapot down in front of Chung Myung and then glanced toward Hyun Jong.
Receiving the cue, Hyun Jong nodded and quickly spoke up.
"Though his manner was somewhat rough, the child is not wrong. If this World Martial Arts Conference were merely a gathering, that would be one thing, but if it is to include a dueling tournament for the younger generation, then Mount Hua deserves equal treatment with Mount Song. Wouldn’t you agree?"
"Amitabha. That is…"
Hyun Jong smiled brightly.
"Shaolin is renowned for its fairness and integrity. We trust you will consider our dignity."
At that very moment, after swallowing the rice cake, Chung Myung shouted again.
"If we go and beat Mount Song’s brats silly, your eyes will be full of holes! Think before you hand out invi—"
"Here, have another one."
"Mph!"
Hyun Young once again shoved a rice cake into Chung Myung’s mouth.
Having watched the whole scene unfold, Hye Bang wore a stiff expression and appeared to ponder it carefully before finally nodding.
"The Sect Leader’s words are not wrong."
"Thank you for understanding."
"However, the number of platinum invitations is fixed. All I can give you is a gold invitation. So please, Sect Leader, I ask you to consider Shaolin’s circumstances as well."
Then he took a golden invitation from within his robes and held it out to Hyun Jong.
Hyun Jong gazed quietly at the gold invitation, then nodded and accepted it.
"Thank you."
"Amitabha. Think nothing of it."
With a respectful palm-to-palm salute, Hye Bang continued, "The conference will be held six months from now."
"Why set it so far off?"
"It takes time to allow sects from distant regions to attend as well. And Shaolin also needs time to prepare."
"Hmm. Well, I suppose it is no small undertaking."
"Amitabha. Then I shall take my leave."
Hye Bang stood up. Hyun Jong looked at him with mild surprise.
"Already?"
"I still have many invitations left to deliver. Please forgive my rudeness in leaving so soon."
"Hyun Sang."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"See the guest out."
"Yes!"
As Hyun Sang rose, Hye Bang saluted the room once more toward everyone present and stepped outside.
With Hyun Sang and Hye Bang gone, everyone left in the Sect Leader’s chamber stared gloomily at the invitation lying on the tea table.
"A World Martial Arts Conference."
Hyun Jong’s gaze naturally turned to Chung Myung.
"What do you think? Chung Myung?"
"…This isn’t about Mount Song or whatever anymore."
"Hm?"
In that instant, Hyun Jong saw it.
Chung Myung’s eyes burning.
"Those bastard monks dare look down on Mount Hua? Let’s see if their heads are too hard to crack!"
Watching Chung Myung practically spit fire from his mouth and eyes alike, Hyun Jong only smiled benevolently.
Can I take him with me?
What a dilemma.
…A real dilemma.
— Personal Letter to the Sect Leader of Mount Hua —
There is no end to strife in the Jianghu, and with hearts filled with mutual suspicion and envy, the world has fallen into boundless disorder. After much deliberation, Shaolin has concluded that all of this has arisen from insufficient gatherings among the various factions.
Before the Demonic Sect stirred up calamity in the past, the sects of the Jianghu held large martial conferences in which many factions participated, allowing them to build fellowship and improve through competition.
Therefore, now that the Martial Alliance has become little more than a name, Shaolin wishes, though our strength be lacking, to take its place and hold a martial arts conference.
Thus, we sincerely ask that the Sect Leader not refuse Shaolin’s request, and that you attend together with your disciples and lend your brilliance to the gathering.
We shall be waiting for the Sect Leader at Mount Song.