Mount Hua Seems to Have Changed Somehow (3)
"Over here!"
"My, my. Young Master, you’re here again. Come this way—I’ll show you to a good seat."
"Nothing happened, right?"
"Oh, heavens. What would happen? Ever since you started coming by so often, business has been booming, and I’m living the good life. Hahaha."
Chung Myung followed the innkeeper’s guidance to a seat by the window.
"Here’s a cold towel. If you wait just a moment, I’ll bring out the Sohongju you always drink. What would you like for snacks today?"
"Bring a couple of decent ones."
"Of course. I’ll speak with the cook and have him prepare the best dishes we have today."
Not the best, the tastiest, you idiot!
Who are you trying to cheat, you old fox?
But before Chung Myung could stop him, the innkeeper rushed into the kitchen and came back with two chilled bottles of Sohongju.
"Here you go."
"Heh, thanks."
The moment Chung Myung took the wine, he opened it without a second’s hesitation and poured himself a cup.
Even the sound of the liquor trickling into the glass was enough to make him feel pleasantly warm inside.
This is what makes life worth living.
No matter how much Chung Myung had trampled all over Daoist propriety, there was no way a third-generation disciple was allowed to drink at Mount Hua.
It wasn’t that alcohol was entirely forbidden, but drinking within the mountain gates was strictly prohibited.
But who was Chung Myung?
He was the kind of bastard who did exactly what people told him not to do, and absolutely insisted on doing the things he absolutely wasn’t supposed to.
Weirdly enough, the more they tell me not to eat or drink something, the more I want it.
The two bottles of liquor he’d carried out of the cave had long since been emptied, and now, whenever he came down to Hwajeong with the sect leader’s special permission, changing out of his robes and stopping by the tavern had become routine.
He’d come so often that the innkeeper now greeted him first. It was embarrassing, honestly.
"Ahhh."
He downed a glass without delay and flopped back into his chair with the blissful expression of a man who had reached paradise.
"If everything naturally flows with the Dao, why are there so many things we’re told not to do? People ought to make sense for once!"
Daoist bastards, the lot of them!
What?
Me too?
Ah, come on. I’m different.
Chung Myung poured himself another cup and brought it to his lips. Then, instead of drinking, he simply stared at the glass. Watching the liquor tremble softly in the cup, he let out a faint smile.
"It’s not like it used to be, senior brother."
Drinking while hiding from the senior brothers who searched for Chung Myung with fire in their eyes had its own charm.
"I’m right here."
And there’s nobody here.
Looking down at the wine, Chung Myung finally snorted with a laugh.
How strange.
He had never once in his entire life longed for the person sitting across from his cup, and yet here he was, staring at the empty space beyond it.
"Tch."
That didn’t mean he was about to sink into sentimentality, though.
The past was just the past. If his senior brothers saw him moping like this, they’d laugh until they were holding their stomachs.
That was the sort of men they were.
To the world, they were revered as enlightened Daoists, even living immortals, but in truth they had just been a bunch of mischievous old men.
And Chung Myung was no different.
"Here we are—this is Sampis. And this one is Daeurdaepajjujja."
Sampis was a dish made by tossing together the skins of black chicken, pork, and jellyfish, while Daeurdaepajjujja was a braised pork trotter dish. Both were traditional foods of Shaanxi.
"What about the Dongpo pork?"
"It’ll be out soon."
Chung Myung smacked his lips and picked up his chopsticks.
What use were old memories when the table in front of him was already lined with delicacies? One long swallow of Sohongju and a bite of the cold dishes, and it was paradise—simple as that.
This is heaven.
Ascending to immortality, my ass.
Senior brothers, I’m not going. Be happy up there by yourselves.
Just then the door opened, and a group of people came in.
"Welcomeeee!"
The innkeeper hurried toward the door.
Those who entered were all young men and women, three men and four women.
Hmm. Young, but maybe a bit worn around the edges to call them “young,” huh?
The men looked to be around twenty, and the women were definitely younger than that... Still, to Chung Myung, they were all basically little brats.
The newcomers glanced around before taking the table next to Chung Myung and sitting down. Chung Myung ignored them and kept working his chopsticks industriously.
"Finally, real food."
"I’m sick of dry rations already, senior brother."
"That’s why we came here, isn’t it? We should hurry back up the mountain and pay our respects to our martial uncles, but I’m sure they’ll understand if it’s just this much."
Senior brother? Martial uncle?
Chung Myung lifted his head slightly and glanced at the ones taking off their packs. Now that he looked closer, they were all wearing black martial robes, and on the chest was embroidered the plum blossom symbol of Mount Hua.
So they’re from the Baek generation?
Wearing robes embroidered with plum blossoms meant they were Mount Hua disciples, and since Chung Myung had never seen them before, they had to be Baek-generation disciples. Their ages fit, too.
Chung Myung lowered his head again.
It wasn’t that he’d done anything wrong, but he didn’t want to show his face. And he certainly didn’t want to get dragged into anything for no reason. Luckily, he was in plain clothes right now, so as long as he didn’t get tangled up with them, there shouldn’t be a problem.
Can’t even eat a proper meal. Tch. I should just finish up and leave.
There was no reason to feel delighted at meeting junior disciples.
All of them were a headache, one way or another. Best thing was to avoid getting involved at all costs.
"By the way, where’s Junior Sister Yoo?"
"Looks like she went up to Mount Hua first."
"Didn’t we agree to meet here in Hwajeong?"
"Has Junior Sister Yoo ever listened to anyone?"
"Hmm. Then I suppose the masters already knew we were coming."
"It’s fine. Everyone knows how peculiar Junior Sister Yoo is."
"Well, that’s a relief."
The young man in the center called over the innkeeper and finished a simple order. Then he ordered wine and filled the cups of his senior brothers and sisters.
Look at them.
Chung Myung narrowed his eyes.
These second-generation brats are getting drunk right in the middle of Hwajeong, of all places. The sect may as well be running backward at this point!
Kids these days, honestly!
Hm?
Me?
Ah, come on. I’m different. I’m practically a hundred years old...
Let it go, let it go.
"You’ve all worked hard. You endured that brutal training well."
"Who has suffered as much as Senior Brother? We only followed your lead."
"That’s right. Senior Brother took the greatest burden."
The handsome young man sitting in the center gave a faint smile.
Oh? He’s pretty good-looking.
Even to Chung Myung, a man, his face was easy on the eyes. Add the black martial robe, and the whole image came together.
How should he put it? He had the air of some legendary righteous hero out of a story.
"Of everyone who trained together, I know better than anyone that you all worked the hardest. This wine is on me personally, so don’t hold back—drink as much as you like."
"Thank you, Senior Brother."
"But don’t get too drunk. We have to return to Mount Hua this evening."
"Of course."
Light laughter rose around the table.
So they’d finished training, were on their way back, and had stopped in Hwajeong for a drink on the way. The one they called Senior Brother was probably the Baek generation’s chief disciple, and the rest were likely the core figures among the Baek generation.
Otherwise, there was no way they could be drinking so openly in a place where other senior brothers and sisters might see them.
The sect really is in fine shape.
Chung Myung exhaled through his nose.
Back when he had been a second-generation disciple, the idea of them drinking among themselves was utterly unthinkable. If they had tried it, they would have been thrown into the repentance cave and forced to swing their swords while staring at the wall for at least a week.
So Chung Myung had to hide to drink!
Hm?
Yeah, I did drink. Come on, how could I not?
But I did it with proper dignity, hidden away, not like these people openly doing it in broad daylight!
The ones who knew nothing of Chung Myung’s thoughts clinked their cups and began sharing drinks. The atmosphere quickly warmed as the food arrived and the table filled up.
Let’s just eat fast and get out of here.
Amid the growing noise, Chung Myung moved his chopsticks even faster. And just as he swallowed another clean mouthful of Sohongju, a remark he couldn’t ignore reached his ears.
"Senior Brother Baek Cheon."
"Speak, junior brother."
"We’ve worked this hard. Do you think we’ll get good results at the Hwajong Jihoe?"
The man called Baek Cheon folded his arms and gave a slow nod.
"...Hmm."
"You think so too, Senior Brother?"
"Junior brother. Honestly, I don’t know. But there is one thing I do know."
"What’s that?"
"Effort never betrays a person."
Baek Cheon’s eyes shone with clear conviction.
"We have worked as hard as we could. We endured that brutal training and kept whipping ourselves forward without pause. Even if we don’t win, it is still true that we have improved greatly over that time, is it not?"
"That’s right, Senior Brother."
"Don’t cling too tightly to victory or defeat. We are fighting a long battle. If you let your eyes be stolen by the outcome of a single match, you may lose the distant future."
"Ah... I was too shortsighted."
"But I do want to win."
Baek Cheon smiled gently. When a smile lit up that handsome face, the whole area seemed to brighten with it. The second-generation disciples looked at him with eyes full of trust.
But there was also one person wearing a thoroughly rotten expression.
Did he grease his mouth with oil or what?
Chung Myung downed another cup of Sohongju with a face of mild nausea. He was simply not built for that kind of polished, righteous drivel.
This is different from the senior brothers somehow.
The senior brothers had talked plenty of old-fashioned nonsense too, but this felt different. It wasn’t that he had done anything wrong either, so why did it bug him so much...?
"Then how strong are we, exactly? Can we fight those disciples of Zhongnan now?"
"Well."
Baek Cheon’s face grew solemn.
"Zhongnan is strong. Aren’t they one of the true Nine Great Sects?"
"Yes, they are."
"In the past, we were also part of the Nine Sects, but to be honest, the gap between Zhongnan and us has grown so wide that there’s no comparing them now."
At Baek Cheon’s words, everyone’s faces darkened.
"But that is only reputation."
As if to lift the mood, Baek Cheon’s voice rose slightly.
"Reputation and actual ability do not always match. We did lose at the last Hwajong Jihoe, but the difference wasn’t so great. During that time, did we not devote ourselves to training, giving up sleep night after night? Now we should be more than capable of standing toe to toe with Zhongnan."
"You mean even against Zhongnan?"
"Was Zhongnan always Zhongnan from the beginning? Was Mount Hua always Mount Hua from the beginning? Nothing is fixed. If we can keep advancing without rest, then in our generation, it isn’t impossible to surpass Zhongnan and look out over the world."
His voice was full of force, and his eyes were steady with resolve. It was certainly the sort of appearance that pulled people in.
Just as everyone was about to look at Baek Cheon with moved expressions—
"Pfft!"
A low snicker came from behind them.
The six people seated at the table all turned their heads at once.
"Uh..."
Realizing the eyes had all landed on him, Chung Myung covered his mouth awkwardly.
Shit, it slipped out.
He had heard something so absurd that laughter had burst out before he could stop it.
Under everyone’s gaze, Chung Myung quickly came up with a usual escape route.
Play it off naturally.
Then he began coughing violently.
"Puh-huhb! Pfft! Ah, damn it! I’m choking! Did something go down wrong? Puuuuh—"
"...."
Seeing the fixed stares still locked on him, Chung Myung frowned.
Why isn’t it working? The acting was perfect.
He ought to cough even harder—
"Little brother."
"Yes?"
Baek Cheon slowly rose from his seat. Then he looked directly at Chung Myung and spoke.
"Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen your face in Hwajeong before. If it’s not too rude, may I ask your family name and given name?"
...
This looks bad.
Right?