Why Is This Crawling Out Here? (1)
"…And so the Abbot said…."
"Krrr…."
"He wanted to speak with the Sect Leader once more…."
"Krrr… krrr…."
"…Sect Leader. Are you listening?"
At Beop Gye’s question, Hyun Jong waved a hand over his pale face. Then he slowly turned his head and said in a voice that sounded half-dead, "Ch, Chung Myung. D-did you have something to drink? Anything at all?"
"Here."
Chung Myung held out a snow-white gourd, as if he’d been expecting this. But the moment Hyun Jong saw it, he clapped a hand over his mouth and gagged.
"Urgh… Th-that’s not liquor, is it?"
"It’s water. Water."
"Ghhh…."
Now even the sight of that white bottle made him shudder.
That ignorant little bastard.
No matter how good the mood had been, who in their right mind got the Sect Leader drunk until he blacked out? Since when was that something a Daoist disciple was supposed to do?
Though, of course, the man who’d happily gulped it down until he lost consciousness wasn’t exactly in a position to complain.
With a faint sense of disgust, Hyun Jong took a long drink of the water Chung Myung offered. Only then did his stomach ease a little, and he let out a long breath, rubbing his chest. After a deep sigh, he looked at Beop Gye and spoke.
"I’m ashamed to have shown you such an unsightly spectacle."
"…."
Under normal circumstances, the polite response would have been something like, ‘Please do not concern yourself.’
But Beop Gye simply could not bring himself to say it.
This is not something you brush off as merely an ugly spectacle.
If it hadn’t been for the Abbot’s warning, he would already have shouted his throat raw several times over. Where in the world did people casually roast meat and drink alcohol inside Shaolin’s own grounds?
This was the sort of thing that had never happened once since Shaolin was founded.
Everything about this is unprecedented.
At this point, he no longer knew how to make sense of this Mount Hua sect.
"So…."
Hyun Jong’s complexion had recovered somewhat as he spoke.
"What was it you said happened?"
Beop Gye folded his hands and answered, "The Abbot wishes to speak with the Sect Leader again."
"Hmm. If it is the same matter we discussed before, I’m afraid I have nothing further to say."
"No, Sect Leader. The Abbot said it was something he has never said to anyone before."
"Oh?"
Hyun Jong looked at Beop Gye with faint curiosity.
"And he said that this is something only Mount Hua can do, so he wishes to set aside our mutual discomfort for the moment and speak for the future and peace of the jianghu. Therefore…."
Just then, Chung Myung, who had been listening quietly beside him, poked his head forward and asked bluntly, "What’s so grand about it?"
Beop Gye, having been cut off mid-sentence, looked at Chung Myung with visible annoyance.
He has no sense of manners at all.
But then Beop Jeong’s stern instruction not to create any dispute echoed in his ears once more.
Taking a small breath to steady himself, he ignored Chung Myung’s interruption and continued.
"You will hear the details from the Abbot himself. And if possible, he would like to see Mount Hua Divine Dragon as well."
"Hmm."
Hyun Jong nodded slowly.
"Very well. Please tell him I shall come soon."
"Yes, then."
Beop Gye practically sprang to his feet, as if he couldn’t bear to remain there another moment. Then, after giving Chung Myung a quick sideways glance, he turned without hesitation and left the room.
"How terrifying."
Chung Myung let out an exaggerated sigh, clearly putting on a show.
"Chung Myung."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"What do you think?"
At Hyun Jong’s question, Chung Myung shrugged.
"He’s probably going to say something obvious."
"Hmm. Something obvious, is it?"
"What else can they really do over there?"
Hyun Jong slowly stroked his chin.
Chung Myung’s words had merit, but Hyun Jong’s attention was fixed on something else entirely: not the content of the conversation, but the approach.
Beop Jeong.
The Abbot of Shaolin.
It has only been one day.
It had been only yesterday that he had collapsed, even vomiting blood, from Chung Myung’s actions—yet now, in barely a day, he was moving so actively?
"Hah."
Whatever his character, there was no denying that level of drive. To lead a massive sect like Shaolin, perhaps that kind of determination was necessary.
"I suppose I should reflect on myself as well."
"Yes, you really overdid it. It was a bit much."
"…."
That was because of you, you brat!
"…P-please… go safely, Sect Leader…."
"Chung Myung… ugh. You be careful too…."
"Sect Lea— uweeegh."
Hyun Jong shook his head as he was seen off by disciples who were half corpses from their hangovers.
"It doesn’t seem like it will take all that long, so get ready to depart in advance."
"Yes, Sect Leader…."
He let out a long, heavy sigh and left the hall with Chung Myung in tow.
"Hmm."
As the two of them walked silently between the halls, Hyun Jong glanced around and gave a low murmur.
"It feels like a completely different place from yesterday."
"The people who came to sightsee must’ve all gone back."
"That would make sense."
Meaning that what they were seeing now was Shaolin’s usual face. Pilgrims still appeared here and there, but the overall atmosphere was quiet and solemn.
Still, Hyun Jong did not miss the small traces of hostility in the eyes of the Shaolin monks passing them by.
As expected, they’re not looking at us kindly.
He continued at an even pace and said, "Chung Myung."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"What do you think the Abbot intends to say?"
"…Hmm."
"No. Before that."
Hyun Jong’s voice lowered slightly.
"What do you think Mount Hua should do from here on?"
It might not have been an appropriate conversation between a sect leader and a third-generation disciple. But Hyun Jong had never once thought of Chung Myung as merely a third-generation disciple.
"Hmm."
Chung Myung scratched his cheek and gave a lazy smile.
"I don’t know."
"I see. So you don’t know… hng?"
Hyun Jong slowly turned his head toward Chung Myung.
"…You don’t know?"
"Nope."
"…Then what was all that talk on the sparring stage?"
"What talk?"
"You said Mount Hua would walk Mount Hua’s own path, did you not?"
"If you just go wherever you feel like, that’s the path, isn’t it? Do you really need to define it ahead of time?"
"…."
Hyun Jong’s head began to throb.
Had trusting this brat really been the right thing to do?
Sensing the expression on Hyun Jong’s face, Chung Myung snickered.
"Anyway, one thing’s for sure."
"Hmm?"
"There’s nothing for us to do with Shaolin."
"…Yes, that much is true."
Hyun Jong knew that very well. The problem was that Beop Jeong undoubtedly knew it too.
And yet he had still asked to see them. That meant he must have a proposal that could rise above all those difficulties. Until they heard it, they could not leave Mount Song.
"Let’s hear what they have to say."
"Welcome."
Beop Jeong greeted Hyun Jong and Chung Myung with a respectful bow.
His complexion was still a little pale, but there was a smile on his face.
Hyun Jong returned the courtesy with a calm clasp of the hands.
"Are you feeling better, Abbot?"
At the question, Beop Jeong slowly nodded.
"Thanks to your concern, I was able to recover without further incident. I apologize for showing you such a disgraceful sight."
With gentle words, Beop Jeong indicated the seats before them.
"Please, sit."
"Yes."
Hyun Jong gave a quiet cough and sat down. This was his second time visiting this place.
The first time he had come to Shaolin, he had been sitting here conversing pleasantly with Beop Jeong when Chung Myung—no, when Mount Hua’s disciples had started talking about how happily they were tearing into the disciples of the Southern Edge Sect….
No. Come to think of it, even then, he was the reason we couldn’t have a proper conversation.
Looking back, it might almost count as a blessing in disguise, but….
In any case, only about half a month had passed, yet the positions of the two men seated across from one another had changed so much it was hard to believe it had been such a short time.
Beop Jeong calmly poured tea into the cups and offered them both over. There was nothing particularly refined about it—no real display of tea ceremony, just plain and modest.
"Please, drink."
"Yes."
After taking the tea, Hyun Jong nudged Chung Myung, who still hadn’t moved an inch. Only then did Chung Myung grudgingly lift his cup, looking irritated.
Since he always claimed he’d rather drink cold water than tea, he was even less inclined to like this.
Then Beop Jeong smiled faintly and said without preamble, "It seems you had a good night."
"…What do you mean by that?"
Beop Jeong gave Hyun Jong, who asked the question, a faintly ambiguous smile.
"I can smell liquor."
Hyun Jong’s face reddened slightly in embarrassment.
"I apologize. I felt I needed to soothe my disciples, and…."
"Indeed. That can happen."
It was, in truth, a fairly rude thing to do, but Beop Jeong did not seem inclined to blame him for it.
"So, what brings you here?"
"Yes. Then I shall get to the point at once."
Beop Jeong let out a low sigh, then spoke in a slightly heavier voice.
"Sect Leader."
"Yes."
"Because of Mount Hua’s actions at yesterday’s tournament, Shaolin’s position has become extremely difficult."
Hyun Jong could not answer. He only sat there with an awkward smile, waiting for Beop Jeong’s next words. There was no need to muddy the water by apologizing and staking out his own position now.
"And yet Shaolin does not resent Mount Hua for that."
"…Pardon?"
"If we are being honest, it was Shaolin that started it. No, it would be fair to say the jianghu started it. If we still possess any shame, how could we possibly blame Mount Hua?"
Hyun Jong looked at him in slight surprise. At that moment, Chung Myung’s bored voice cut in from the side.
"That would’ve meant something if you’d said it before the tournament."
"…."
"Or at least before the finals."
A muscle twitched faintly around Beop Jeong’s eyes.
But he quickly regained his tranquil expression.
"The young master’s words are not entirely wrong. It is all due to my own folly."
At this unexpected reaction, Chung Myung’s mouth curved slightly, as if he found it interesting.
Well, well.
So this really was the Abbot of Shaolin. He wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
By this point, even Chung Myung’s curiosity had been piqued.
What was this Shaolin Abbot planning to say, if he was willing to bend even his own pride to do it?
For now, it sounds like he’s going to try to patch things up somehow.
That didn’t mean much, and no one knew it better than he did. Which meant Shaolin must have a proposal Mount Hua absolutely could not refuse.
He’s not going to spout some nonsense about the Nine Sects returning or anything that stupid now, is he?
If he did say something like that, Chung Myung intended to carve a plum blossom tattoo directly into that shining bald head of his.
Beop Jeong cleared his throat under Chung Myung’s gaze, then spoke.
"The reason I asked for the Sect Leader to come here is because a pressing matter has arisen in Shaolin—one that requires Mount Hua’s assistance."
"A pressing matter, you say?"
Beop Jeong briefly turned his head toward the door.
"If you would excuse me for a moment. Beop Gye, bring it in."
"Yes!"
A firm answer rang in from outside, and a moment later the doors swung wide open. Something large, a wooden box, was carried into the room.
A wooden box so large it took two people just to manage it.
When Hyun Jong realized what it was—a coffin—his expression hardened in an instant.
"Abbot?"
"…Please wait a moment."
Hyun Jong looked back and forth between the coffin and Beop Jeong with utter confusion. He’d said he had something to discuss, so why on earth was a coffin being brought in?
Beop Gye set the coffin down, bowed, and immediately left again.
Three people and one coffin.
The atmosphere in the room sank into a strange, heavy stillness.
"Amitabha."
Beop Jeong intoned the Buddha’s name in a low voice and fixed the two men with a subdued gaze.
"Shaolin’s lay followers are spread throughout the world."
"Well, of course…."
"The body in this coffin belongs to a disciple of Samgwang Gate, one of Shaolin’s lay branches. He had been assigned by Shaolin to scout the North Sea."
"…Did you say the North Sea?"
"Yes. The North Sea. Though in truth, his role was only to verify the outermost edge of the region. Men from the Central Plains can no longer enter the North Sea."
"…Then why has he returned as a corpse? Surely there was a clash with the North Sea Ice Palace?"
If so, this was no ordinary matter.
The emotional gulf between the outer seas’ great palaces and the Central Plains was so deep that even the smallest issue could ignite a war in an instant.
Wasn’t that exactly why Chung Myung and the others had to go through so much hell just to enter Yunnan?
But Beop Jeong shook his head.
"If that were all, it would be a far better situation."
"…A better situation?"
Then what in the world…?
Questions appeared in both Hyun Jong’s and Chung Myung’s eyes. Beop Jeong intoned the Buddha’s name once more, then rose from his seat and walked toward the coffin.
Without hesitation, he opened the lid.
"Mm!"
Hyun Jong’s face twisted. Who could possibly find it pleasant to stare at a corpse right in front of them?
But why would he bring something like this…?
And then it happened.
Startled, Hyun Jong suddenly glanced to the side. From Chung Myung, seated beside him, an immense killing intent burst forth—one he had never felt even once before.
But before he could properly grasp it, that intent vanished in a flash, like a mirage.
Was that my imagination?
Then Chung Myung slowly rose to his feet.
He stepped very close to the coffin and examined the corpse inside with a cold, meticulous gaze.
As expected, beneath the corpse’s pallid skin, red and black blotches stood out clearly.
"…Mahwa."
Crack!
Chung Myung ground his teeth and glared at Beop Jeong. His eyes were those of a starving beast.
"Demonic Sect?"
"Amitabha. Shaolin suspects as much as well."
Veins stood out on Chung Myung’s clenched jaw.
In truth, there was no need to speak of suspicion at all.
This was Mahwa, the wound that appeared on the bodies of those struck by demonic arts.
And unlike the half-baked Mahwa they had seen during Hwang Mun-yak’s incident, this was the real thing—the genuine Mahwa he had seen countless times in the past.
"Demonic Sect…."
Chung Myung’s lips curled into something cruel.
"Explain."
His voice was dripping with coldness.
"What’s going on here."