I Have No Right to Speak of Forgiveness to You, but (4)
"Kyaaaaaaaagh! You damned bastard!"
As Jo Gul let out a scream and flopped backward onto the ground, Chung Myung snorted.
"What, training and all that aside, this is a pretty good deal! Just because you made a little noise at some insignificant martial tournament, you think you can live easy? Not while there’s dirt in my eyes, you don’t!"
"Dirt? Dirt’s enough?"
With a roar, Baek Cheon shot up from below, grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground, and charged at Chung Myung.
But the moment he lunged, he was kicked cleanly back down the cliff.
"Aaaahhhhh!"
Listening to the fading scream, everyone bowed their heads with distant, sentimental expressions.
I won’t forget your courage, Sasuk.
That guy’s getting less and less manageable by the day.
Did he survive?
Watching the scene, Chung Myung clicked his tongue.
"Tsk. You’re all completely hopeless."
He gulped down his wine, then lightly jumped off the cart. The other disciples who had climbed the cliff with him were so exhausted they were sprawled flat on the ground, too drained to even lift their heads.
Unam finally couldn’t hold back and asked, "…Chung Myung."
"Hm?"
"Wasn’t there an easier path?"
"Nah. Then it wouldn’t be training."
"…"
Ah.
Right. Of course this was how he’d answer.
Unam felt, all over again, that he was finally understanding what Chung Myung’s return truly meant.
"W-well then. It’s good that you’re back."
"Yes, Sasukjo. I’m bac—"
Chung Myung, about to say something, shut his mouth and frowned. Then he walked toward the Baek generation and Cheong generation disciples lined up behind Unam.
Everyone held their breath, not understanding what was happening. Chung Myung reached out and poked at the disciples’ thighs and upper arms in turn, then immediately twisted his face.
"What the hell have you idiots been doing while I was gone? How did your bodies shrink in half?"
"…"
Half?
Unam stared blankly.
They looked like the kind of people who could chew up most bandits for breakfast, and he was calling them half?
What were those bulging arm muscles and chests, straining so hard their robes were practically bursting?
"If you’d properly followed the training I gave you, there’s no way you’d be in this state."
"W-well… but…"
A deeply wronged look appeared on their faces. Unfortunately, they weren’t given a chance to explain themselves.
"Fine. People need to rest sometimes."
"Th-that’s right, isn’t it?"
"But I’m not sure the people behind you would agree."
"…Huh?"
That was because the people who had climbed up the cliff hauling the cart were all glaring at them with eyes burning full of murderous energy.
"So while we were suffering like this, you all were just sitting around eating and playing, huh?"
"Look at those skinny little arms? One tap and they’d snap in half."
"We have to kill them! We have to kill those bastards!"
The Mount Hua disciples, though entirely innocent, became the target of all that fury simply because they’d been resting comfortably here.
"…That is…"
Then someone stepped forward with a gentle smile.
"Sasuk!"
"Baek Sang Sasuk!"
Everyone looked at him as if they’d seen a savior.
But Baek Sang only smiled kindly and warmly, then pointed toward the opposite peak.
"One to Yeonhwabong."
"Pardon?"
"…Run."
"…"
Several of the ones glancing around at each other abruptly started sprinting toward Yeonhwabong. Seeing that, the rest finally seemed to understand what was happening and broke into a full run as well.
"Move it, you bastards!"
"No, what the hell is this! Wasn’t this supposed to be a welcoming event?"
"Welcoming event my ass, get out of the way!"
Watching the disciples race toward Yeonhwabong even as they tangled and toppled over one another, the people who had climbed up the cliff gripped the cart with great effort.
"…Let’s just go inside. For now."
The sound of the cart wheels rolling was pitiful beyond words.
"Tch. We really can’t leave our posts, can we?"
With Chung Myung walking ahead and Mount Hua’s disciples pushing the cart inside like rags dragged in the dirt, Unam couldn’t help but sink into one deeply troubling thought.
Why… is nobody worried about Baek Cheon after he fell off the cliff?
Still.
Feeling that at last the Mount Hua he knew had returned, he shook his head without realizing it.
* * *
"Congratulations, Sect Leader!"
"You must have endured tremendous hardship."
"Hmm."
Hyun Jong nodded with an expression of great benevolence.
The fatigue accumulated from the long journey had been washed away in a bath, and the satisfaction on his face was impossible to hide.
"All of you must have worked hard protecting Mount Hua in my absence. Was there anything out of the ordinary?"
"What hardship could there be? You’d traveled so far, Sect Leader; how could we dare even speak the word? More than that, word that Mount Hua had made its mark at Shaolin reached all the way to Shaanxi, and I could hardly contain myself from excitement."
"Oh? So the news traveled that quickly?"
"Yes. Thanks to that, everyone was cheering and rejoicing as one."
Unam, who had always maintained his composure, was flushed red with excitement. He simply could not act impetuously in front of the Sect Leader, but it was clear he could hardly contain his joy inside.
"Hahaha."
Hyun Jong burst into hearty laughter.
To assess one’s own achievements and hear about them from another person’s mouth were two very different things.
And seeing even Unam so thrilled made it all the more real just how remarkable an accomplishment they had brought back.
"A good thing, then. If the news spread even as far as Shaanxi before we returned, it won’t take long for it to spread across the whole world."
At Hyun Sang’s words, Unam nodded vigorously.
"Of course, Elder. As you saw on the way here, Haeom was in an uproar! Everyone was thrilled that Mount Hua was recovering its old renown."
"Yes. A fine thing indeed."
Hyun Sang smiled in satisfaction. Then Hyun Young spoke up in a slightly sharp voice.
"Now then, enough self-praise."
He looked every bit the keen-eyed elder he was.
"Were there any issues while we were gone?"
"There were no major problems. Because of trade with Yunnan, we had to coordinate a few things with the Eunha Merchant Guild, but nothing has changed much. Please review it and give your orders."
"Understood. And besides that…"
"As for the rest, I…"
"Aaaaaaaaagh!"
"…"
Unam was in the middle of speaking when he turned his head in alarm. From outside the door, miserable screams continued to ring out in succession.
"Ahem. Besides that…"
He tried his best to ignore it and continue the conversation, but the situation outside showed no sign of calming down.
"Aaaaaaaagh!"
"Why the hell did that bastard come back! Why!"
"What the hell is this the moment he gets back? Gyaaaah, damn it all!"
Unam shivered slightly, then finally rose and threw the door open. They were making a racket like this outside while he was trying to speak with the Sect Leader; he had been about to reprimand them.
"…"
But he lost the words in his throat.
In the space of just one shichen, the Mount Hua disciples had gone black as charcoal and were rolling around on the floor, drooling.
Did he throw them into a coal mine and make them roll around in there?
They’d definitely been bright and clean just a moment ago…
Behind the disciples, who were writhing around like beggars from the Beggars’ Sect, Chung Myung stood with his hands clasped behind his back and tilted his head.
"You idiots are hopeless! You had an entire month with no one around, and you just lounged about?"
"W-we trained! We did train, damn it!"
"You call that training? 'We trained, sort of'? You bastards would probably say that even if those Demonic Sect freaks stabbed you with swords and you barely blocked them! A month is enough time to learn an entire sword style, and you wasted it all? Fine. I’ll take back the time my sahyungs lost!"
"P-please spare us… Aaagh!"
As Unam stared dazedly at the horrific scene before him, a gentle voice brushed past his ear.
"Unam."
"Huh? Yes, Sect Leader."
Unam turned sharply toward Hyun Jong. Hyun Jong smiled softly and nodded.
Right, I should go and stop him…
"Close it."
"…Yes."
Obediently closing the door at the Sect Leader’s instruction, Unam quietly returned to his seat as if nothing had happened.
What made it even sadder was that the elders and Un Geom were sitting there as if nothing had happened at all.
Something seems a little… different.
He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed, but there was definitely something about the feeling…
"Anyway, so…"
For the entire rest of the meeting, the disciples’ screams never left their ears.
* * *
"Playing around?"
"…"
"So while people were barely surviving death itself and getting cut and punched all over at Shaolin, you all were off goofing around the whole time, is that what you’re saying?"
Tears welled in the eyes of Mount Hua’s disciples.
Of course, it was understandable that they were getting cursed at.
They had indeed trained hard in their own way, but they also knew that the word "own way" was doing a lot of work there.
No matter how hard they insisted they had trained, they could never honestly say they had trained at the same intensity as when Chung Myung was around.
So getting cursed at was fair enough. That much, at least.
What truly made them miserable was that the one standing in front of them now, eyes wild and spitting fire as he raged, wasn’t Chung Myung at all, but Baek Cheon.
Baek Cheon, who had fallen into hell—no, off the cliff—and somehow come back alive, was pouring out such ferocious killing intent that the disciples’ ears practically bled from his scolding.
Maybe the cliff wasn’t high enough.
He should’ve just died there.
And the other disciples who had gone to Shaolin with him were glaring at them too, every one of them just as fierce.
Those who had looked like bandits on their way out had gone to Shaolin and come back as devils.
What on earth happened at that martial tournament?
Skill is certainly determined in part by talent, but much of it is also decided by how long and how hard one has trained. Because of that, most of the ones who had gone to Shaolin were those ranked high within their respective lines.
So they couldn’t even talk back, and it was, quite literally, hell.
"Everyone listen up."
"Yes, sahyung!"
The Baek and Cheong generation disciples, now thoroughly disciplined, shouted back so loudly their torsos bent backward.
"At Shaolin, we felt and returned with many things. It wasn’t just simple experience. Seeing another sect’s martial arts with our own eyes was definitely a huge help."
"Yes!"
"But…"
Baek Cheon stuck out his tongue and licked his lips.
"As your sahyung, I can’t help but feel deeply sorry that only you got to have such a good experience."
"…"
"If you don’t have teeth, you make do with your gums. I! I myself! Will carve everything I saw and felt over the last month directly into your bodies! Don’t worry; I’ll make sure this experience never causes a gap that leaves you demoralized! Understand?"
"…"
No, we’re fine…
"…Did you hear me?"
"Yes!"
Watching the disciples shout so thunderously it seemed Mount Hua itself might split apart, Baek Cheon tilted his head.
"This isn’t because we suffered like dogs while someone else got to live comfortably. Absolutely not!"
That’s exactly it.
It looks exactly like that from here.
Before, it was only that bastard Chung Myung causing trouble. Now all of you are doing it! All of you!
Baek Cheon turned his head and looked at the anxious Mount Hua disciples.
"You lot."
"Yes!"
Then he drew a line across his own throat with his thumb.
"Break them."
"Yes!"
Yoon Jong and Jo Gul, who were in the lead, rolled their eyes and charged forward. At the same time, everyone who had gone to Shaolin started lunging in with eyes full of murderous resentment, as if they intended to settle old debts.
In one corner of Mount Hua’s training ground, where chaos was already beginning to erupt, there was a little cluster of people who seemed to have nothing whatsoever to do with the situation.
They were the disciples of Hwayeong Gate, who had come to Mount Hua partly of their own will and partly not.
They stared at the training ground, now turned into utter mayhem, with awkward expressions.
"Gate Leader."
"…Hm?"
"So Mount Hua is supposed to be a place where the Daoist spirit flows… pure and…"
Wi Lip-san quietly averted his eyes from his disciples’ gazes.
"…I haven’t been here in a very long time."
"We were told this was a place where everyone upheld the duty of a true Daoist…"
"…It was, in the past."
"Then what is it now?"
"Noisy."
Wi Lip-san gave a loud cough and barked, "Don’t be fooled by what you see on the surface! Didn’t you see it at Shaolin yourselves? How extraordinary Mount Hua’s Daoist priests truly are!"
"We know that, but…"
"Do not be swayed by appearances; look to the true essence! The true essence!"
"…But Father."
"Hm?"
Wi So-haeng, standing beside him, said in a dazed voice, "You said that some of us would be training at the main sect."
"…I did."
"…Like that?"
Wi Lip-san slowly turned his head.
Mount Hua’s disciples were foaming at the mouth as they hurled swords at one another.
Wi Lip-san looked up at the sky, then slowly exhaled.
"…Let us think on this a little."
And he began to seriously wonder whether he had made some fatal mistake in his choice.