The More You Win, the More Enemies You Make (2)
By nature, alcohol loosened a person’s nerves.
Everyone had tried to act calm, but there was no way the duel with Wudang hadn’t weighed on them. In that sense, Song Tae-ak’s decision to prepare a lavish feast was, in its own way, worthy of being called foresight.
At first, they could barely relax and only sipped from tiny cups, but once the liquor made its first round and then its second, the talk slowly began to loosen.
And in the end…
“So then I—bam! Huh? Baaam!”
“...Sahyung, please calm down.”
“Calm down? We beat Wudang, didn’t we!”
“But Sahyung lost, didn’t you?”
“Hey! Didn’t you hear what Sasuk said? In this world, there are times when victory is worth less than defeat!”
“It’s a defeat worth less than victory. And your getting absolutely crushed in that ‘valuable defeat’ doesn’t count, so just shut up and drink.”
“Get over here, you bastard!”
...The whole place descended into chaos from all directions.
“Wine! We’re short on wine here!”
“Here too!”
“What do you mean, short? We asked for more ages ago!”
Song Tae-ak shuddered and shut his eyes tight.
I should’ve just fed them cattle.
From the start, the mistake had been opening with expensive liquor. When he’d entertained the Mount Hua Sect before, he should have realized they were all heavy drinkers.
No, but even then, they drank like people.
Now they were drinking and eating almost like beasts.
Daoists who avoided fire-cooked food whenever possible, guarded against overeating, and treated drunkenness as a taboo?
None of that existed here.
There were only those Daoists in black robes—not exactly, but rather those black-robed Daoists with their robes half stripped off, flaunting bodies so terrifyingly muscular that they looked like warriors at a glance, raising hell with wine jars in one hand and meat in the other.
Every face flushed red with drink.
“...Hurry and bring out more wine.”
“Yes, Guild Leader!”
The only small mercy was that the people running drinks and food didn’t seem to be complaining.
Well, that makes sense.
Of course, the Mount Hua Sect had been honored guests from the beginning. They were heroes who had returned after crushing bandits. But the weight of their name was different now. They were no longer merely honored guests; they were a prestigious orthodox sect that had defeated Wudang.
Ordinary commoners might value the former more, but for merchants, the latter was obviously the more precious guest, wasn’t it?
Only one thing still bothered him.
The Mount Hua that beat up Wudang? No matter how I look at it, I still can’t get used to that.
Put kindly, they were down-to-earth. Put less kindly, they lacked any sense of decorum. To Song Tae-ak, who had long known Wudang and its Daoists, the sight of these men stripping off their shirts and guzzling liquor was nothing short of bizarre.
But maybe this is exactly what gave Mount Hua its rise.
Then his eyes caught one man who seemed to be steering this whole mood.
“Ooooh! Chung Myung, you’re here!”
“Here, take a cup from me!”
“Drink! Drink! You’ve earned it!”
“Heheh! What’s the big deal, bringing out some guy like that?”
Chung Myung. The moment he moved to another spot, everyone around him swarmed there and cheered.
“What do you mean, what’s the big deal? He’s a huge deal! He beat a Wudang elder senseless, didn’t he!”
“That monster, seriously!”
“He’s Mount Hua’s Best Sword! Mount Hua’s Best Sword!”
With the flush of liquor staining his face, Chung Myung’s mouth began twitching more and more. He was clearly trying to act indifferent, but he was the type who was hopelessly weak to praise, so it wasn’t easy for him to endure the torrent of compliments.
“No, well... this much... isn’t much...”
He muttered in a feignedly bored tone, but the praise kept coming without end.
“Isn’t much? He’s an elder! A Wudang elder, no less!”
“I’ve lived my whole life and never heard of a third-generation disciple beating a prestigious sect’s elder! Even a storyteller wouldn’t dare spin something like that! People would think he made it up and beat him over the head with a wine bottle for it!”
“Damn! Our Chung Myung is shining, he’s shining! It’s blinding—I can’t even look at him!”
“Exactly! He’s just a light! Our light!”
As praise poured down like a downpour, Chung Myung’s face finally began to crumple bit by bit.
“Heh... heheh...”
“That’s right! That’s right! He’s smiling! Look at that, our Chung Myung smiles so nicely!”
“Well done! Well done! Well done!”
Once Chung Myung, delighted, started throwing back his wine and laughing freely, his martial brothers and sisters all rushed to refill his cup one after another.
“Tonight we drink till we die!”
“Dying’s fine! We can die now!”
“Hey, you idiots, don’t actually die!”
Watching Mount Hua’s disciples playing as if they had already crossed into the next world, Song Tae-ak shook his head over and over.
A sect I will never understand.
One thing was certain: the atmosphere here was the best possible. Everyone without exception was...
Hm?
Then Song Tae-ak tilted his head slightly.
From a corner of the banquet hall, which was blazing hot with merriment, he saw one person quietly stand up and carefully make their way outside.
In a normal banquet, there would be nothing strange about that. They might simply have needed the latrine. But in a gathering where martial artists were eating and drinking, such things usually didn’t happen. They could control most bodily needs.
Well, he probably has something else to do.
Deciding it wasn’t worth worrying over, Song Tae-ak quickly lost interest and turned away.
Click.
Gwak Hoe, who had carefully closed the door behind him, let out a low sigh.
Fortunately, the room was so lively that no one seemed to notice him leaving. Even if they had, it would not have mattered much, but he hadn’t wanted to spoil that atmosphere.
Everyone seems to be having fun.
And it was understandable.
After downing several cups in a row, Gwak Hoe had felt something inside him loosen, as though a burden had been lifted from his body. He had acted as if nothing was wrong, but the mere fact that they had to face Wudang had been unbearably oppressive for everyone.
So now that they had achieved such a good result, it was only natural that joy would overflow.
Gwak Hoe glanced at the wine jar in his hand and took a few steps forward. Then he leapt lightly upward and landed on the roof of the front hall.
“Hup!”
Settling himself on the tiles, he quietly sat down and looked up at the moon hanging in the sky.
“It’s bright.”
Just in time, the full moon was hanging high overhead, bathing the world around him in light as bright as daylight.
Staring at the unusually luminous moon, the words he had meant to keep buried slipped out before he could stop them.
“...Can I really do it?”
“Do what?”
“Eekaaaah!”
At the answer that suddenly came from behind him, Gwak Hoe was so startled that he lurched and nearly rolled off the roof. He barely managed to grab the edge of the eaves and hang there before groaning and hauling himself back up.
“Y-You startled me!”
“What’s there to be startled about?”
“If you came, you could at least make some noise!”
“You seem to have a misunderstanding. I didn’t come here—you barged into the place where I was resting. I was here first.”
“...”
Gwak Hoe looked at Baek Sang with a sour expression.
Of all people…
No matter how well they got along, a sahuk was still a sahuk. So for most third-generation disciples, second-generation disciples still felt a little uncomfortable.
And among them, Baek Sang was one of the sahuks the cheong generation found the most difficult to deal with.
Not only was he immediately below Baek Cheon in seniority among the second-generation disciples, but his personality was also so slippery that it was hard to call him straightforwardly pleasant. And lately, hadn’t he risen to the core of Jaekyeong Pavilion, which could almost be called the heart of Mount Hua’s power?
Excluding the Mount Hua Five Swords, who had come to represent the sect itself, he was arguably the most influential person among the younger generation.
Being alone with Baek Sang in a place where he had fled to avoid the banquet was, no matter how you looked at it, hardly a welcome situation.
“I asked you something. What?”
“Ah, well...”
When Gwak Hoe hesitated and fumbled for an answer, Baek Sang got up and shuffled over. Then he plopped down right beside him.
“Ugh. My back.”
“...Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing. Just hurts where I got beaten up.”
There was no way injuries sustained in a duel would heal completely in half a day. But Baek Sang only shrugged, as though it were no big deal.
“You brought wine?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s have a drink.”
Baek Sang held out his jar, and Gwak Hoe, with no choice, touched the jar in his own hand lightly against it.
Clink.
The sound of the jars striking each other was almost like the clash of swords.
The two of them said nothing as they drank deeply.
“Kah!”
“Hmm.”
Wiping the corner of his mouth, Gwak Hoe looked at the jar and spoke first.
“This is luxurious. To get to drink expensive wine straight from the jar like this.”
“Expensive wine, huh.”
At that, Baek Sang gazed at the jar and shrugged.
“Expensive means it’s good.”
“Huh?”
“But honestly, I like the cheap spirits we drank back at Mount Hua better than this kind of wine.”
“...”
Meeting his silent stare, Baek Sang gave a quiet smile.
“Weird?”
“No.”
Gwak Hoe shook his head quickly, then said with a slightly heated expression, “Actually, I’m the same.”
“Haha.”
Baek Sang took another sip and looked up at the moon, amusement glimmering in his eyes.
“There are people like you.”
“...”
“People who can’t quite put everything down when everyone else is setting it all aside to rest.”
Struck at the heart, Gwak Hoe lost his words for a moment.
“What’s the problem?”
At the casual question, Gwak Hoe did not answer right away. Instead, he looked into Baek Sang’s eyes. His voice was calm, but his gaze had grown slightly heavy, and for some reason Gwak Hoe felt that he didn’t want to dodge the question in front of him.
“It’s just...”
“Just?”
“I’m a little scared.”
“...”
Baek Sang didn’t press him. He simply waited for Gwak Hoe to continue. After a moment, Gwak Hoe spoke again.
“At first, I was only happy. I could feel myself improving, and things I’d never even dared to dream of before suddenly felt possible.”
“I’d imagine so.”
“If I just did my best, exactly as I was told, then I thought I could... yes, I thought I could become something too.”
“And now you don’t?”
“...It’s not that exactly...”
Gwak Hoe paused briefly, as if feeling his way through his own thoughts.
“Like I said, I’m just a little scared.”
“Why?”
“...Because I’m not there.”
Anyone else might have tilted their head and asked what he meant, but Baek Sang nodded as if he understood.
“Right. That’s the most frightening part.”
“...Yes.”
Gwak Hoe wanted to be like Jo Gul or Yoon Jong.
He didn’t even dare hope to reach Chung Myung or Baek Cheon. He had simply believed that if he kept moving toward the goal in front of him, if he kept striving and striving, then one day he might grow strong like them.
But...
“Are you afraid you’ll never catch up?”
“No... That’s fine. It’s just...”
Gwak Hoe bit his lip slightly.
“I’m scared of falling farther and farther behind.”
“...”
“Even though I worked as hard as I could, my sahyung keep getting farther away. When I crossed swords with Wudang’s first-generation disciples, I understood how strong they really were. And then I realized just how strong the sahyung who defeated them must be.”
Gwak Hoe’s gaze fell downward. From the banquet hall below came the murmur of noisy laughter and chatter, spilling out through the warm light.
“So, I don’t really know how to put it, but what I mean is...”
“It’s all right.”
Baek Sang smiled faintly and looked at him.
“You don’t need to explain everything so carefully. I understand the feeling well enough.”
“I...”
And before Gwak Hoe could finish, Baek Sang tilted his chin toward the banquet hall.
“Look.”
“Yes?”
“Do you really think those idiots laughing and shouting in there are doing it because they have no burdens at all?”
“...”
At that, Gwak Hoe pressed his lips together and fell silent.