Who Dared Touch What? (4)
Hwang Jong-ui and Do Un-chan, having left the Sect Leader’s quarters, hurried after Unam.
Chung Myung would have come eventually no matter what; waiting in the quarters was pointless. They had followed Unam because they wanted to tell Chung Myung what had happened as quickly as possible.
Besides, there were things they might not be able to say in front of everyone else.
Do Un-chan, walking behind the unhurried Unam, opened his mouth cautiously.
“Unam Daoist.”
“Yes, Lord Sect Master.”
“How has Chung Myung been doing?”
“...Pardon me?”
Unam tilted his head as if he didn’t quite understand the intent behind the question, and Do Un-chan added a little more.
“I did meet him briefly at the Heavenly Alliance founding ceremony, but some time has passed since then. Is Chung Myung still... himself?”
“...”
There was an awful lot packed into that “still himself.”
When it was said about anyone else, it would simply be a way of asking after their well-being. But with Chung Myung as the subject, the meaning changed entirely. After some thought, Unam answered.
“...I think it would be best if you confirmed that yourself.”
“...”
Just then, a group of Mount Hua disciples approached from ahead and bowed toward Unam.
“We greet you, Martial Uncle.”
“What are you doing out here at this hour?”
“We were on our way back after finishing training.”
“I see.”
Baek Cheon, Jo Gul, and Yoon Jong.
Once he confirmed who they were, Unam nodded.
“The three of you should go to the Sect Leader’s quarters as well. The Sect Leader... no, never mind. You should just come with me too.”
“Pardon?”
To the three who looked completely lost, Unam briefly explained what was going on. Their faces quickly went slack.
“So you’re on your way to fetch Chung Myung right now?”
“That’s right.”
“...Then I’ll escort you.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll do whatever I can...”
A look of grim determination came over all three faces. If anything, that only made Hwang Jong-ui and Do Un-chan more uneasy.
“Martial Uncle! Should I call more people?”
“It’s not even dawn yet. Surely nothing that serious could happen, right? That brat still knows how to behave... no, on second thought, maybe we should call a few more.”
“He’s at Baekmae Hall anyway, so shouldn’t it be fine? If needed, we can call the guys from the rooms next door.”
“...Having to live in the room next to Chung Myung is already a dreadful punishment. How could we assign that to someone else?”
“My room is the one next to Chung Myung’s.”
“You’re fine.”
Jo Gul started to protest with an offended expression, but Baek Cheon shook his head firmly, as if this was no time to play along with Jo Gul, and said to Unam, “Please, Martial Uncle. Don’t worry. No matter what happens, I’ll make sure you’re protected, at least.”
“...That is very reassuring.”
Baek Cheon, Yoon Jong, and Jo Gul began walking as if escorting Unam. Hwang Jong-ui only laughed in bewilderment, but Do Un-chan’s eyes were different.
This is...
He could feel it.
He couldn’t put it into words exactly, but the aura surrounding these three was clearly different from before.
Earlier, they had given off the youthful vigor typical of young martial artists. Now, however...
It’s deeper?
Before, they had reminded him of a mountain stream rushing swiftly downhill—clear, pure, and unrestrained.
That impression hadn’t vanished completely, but now there was something else layered over it: a grounded stability. It was as if water that had once run exuberantly through the mountains had reached the plains and become a broader, stronger river.
Even the Sect Leader feels different from before. Have these three grown that much in the meantime too?
Do Un-chan was newly struck by the change. But...
“I’ll handle the shoulders first, so Sahyung should go for the legs.”
“Wouldn’t it be wiser to crack the back of the head first?”
“Can I draw my real sword? Hitting him with the scabbard won’t do a damn thing.”
“Let’s think about that a bit more. If necessary, we’ll have to draw it.”
Was it his imagination?
...No. It definitely was.
Do Un-chan shook his head.
Before long, they arrived at Baekmae Hall, and a faint tension settled over all their faces.
Srrrk.
“No, Gul. That doesn’t mean you should draw your sword ahead of time.”
“...It’s too late after you’ve been hit.”
“Calm down first.”
Baek Cheon, at the very front, took a deep breath. Then, just as he drew breath to shout something in a dignified voice...
Woof! Woof-woof! Woof!
Arf! Arf-arf-arf-arf! Arf-arf!
Dog barking rang out.
Do Un-chan and Hwang Jong-ui, both taken aback, looked around.
“What the—why are there suddenly dogs barking?”
“Do they even keep dogs here?”
“...”
Somehow all the energy drained out of Baek Cheon at once, and he let his shoulders drop.
“Let’s go in.”
“Yes.”
The door flew open.
And once the scene beyond it came into view, everyone’s heads tilted at the same time.
...What am I looking at?
Is this a dream?
All of them stood speechless, staring blankly ahead.
The Chung Myung they knew was sitting in a chair almost slouched sideways, one foot propped up on the table.
His face looked so lazy he seemed ready to fall asleep at any moment, though that was hardly anything new; it was the same expression he always wore.
And the pure white gourd bottle already in his hand before sunrise was nothing unusual either. Counting the days when that bastard wasn’t holding liquor would probably take less time than counting the days he was.
The problem wasn’t Chung Myung.
It was what was in front of him.
What is that?
Do Un-chan blinked.
It was small, white...
A cat?
No, not a cat. Not a dog either.
A weasel?
Yes. It looked like a weasel, no matter how he thought about it. But the snow-white weasel was wearing black clothes that looked absurdly human-made.
Its tiny little front paws poking out from the oversized sleeves were so unbearably cute that you wanted to bite them.
The plum blossom pattern embroidered on its back clearly proved that someone had specially made the outfit for that creature.
A weasel in clothes.
That alone was astonishing enough, but what was even more baffling was the weasel’s current state.
Why is the weasel burying its head in the floor?
No—more importantly, could a weasel even bury its head in the floor while standing with its paws clasped behind its back? And could a person actually make it do that?
If they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, they never would have believed it.
No, even seeing it with their own eyes made it impossible to believe.
“Damn it, your arm’s dropping again, isn’t it?”
“Eeeek.”
“Yeah. Put it down, put it down. It’s getting colder, so I figured I’d need a scarf soon anyway.”
The weasel’s arm, which had been trying to lower itself sneakily, shot back up in a violent jolt. The weasel snapped into perfect posture, lifting its little backside, and Chung Myung, after gulping down more liquor, twisted his face in irritation.
“Did I tell you to manage things properly or not?”
“Squeak.”
“No, really, what the hell is with these damn dogs barking day and night? Didn’t I tell you to shut them up after sunset? It’s bad enough with dogs wandering all over Mount Hua; do you expect me to wake up from sleep because of barking? Huh?”
“...”
Watching the spectacle, Do Un-chan and Hwang Jong-ui exchanged faint smiles.
I don’t understand.
Let’s not even try.
The scene before them had cleanly stepped beyond common sense. They couldn’t even begin to imagine what they were supposed to think, or what they were supposed to say.
“What? A spiritual beast? Spiritual beast my ass. You can’t even handle a dog, so what kind of spiritual beast are you supposed to be...? What was that, you punk? Your job? What job do you even have at Mount Hua besides stuffing your face and living off us? You’ve got to do something like that! A beast that doesn’t work doesn’t get to eat, that’s how it is! Damn it!”
Yes. That was true enough.
Whether human or beast, if you wanted to eat, you had to work.
But hearing that come out of the mouth of a bastard who was half-reclined in a chair with a face full of “everything is a pain in the ass” while sipping liquor made the whole thing feel strangely off.
And the one taking the lecture was just as bizarre.
“Attention.”
The weasel, which had been pressing its head to the floor, sprang upright. Standing perfectly straight as if drilled by military discipline, it waited for Chung Myung’s next words without the slightest wobble.
“I’m watching you.”
Hiss!
“Next time I hear barking while someone’s trying to sleep, that day’s the day every dog and weasel in sight gets smashed flat. Got it?”
The weasel nodded frantically up and down.
“Move out!”
The instant the words left his mouth, the weasel scampered out of Baekmae Hall. Before long, the miserable howls of dogs began rising from outside.
“Tsk. Why do I always have to spell things out...”
Chung Myung clicked his tongue and turned his head sharply, then blinked when he saw them.
“Huh? When did you get here?”
“...”
“Oh. Young Lord’s here too? Hm? And Lord Guild Leader? What’s the occasion? This early in the morning, too.”
“...”
“Wow, nice to see you.”
“...”
They had plenty to say on the way here. So much, in fact, that they couldn’t even decide where to start.
But now, not a single one of those words came to mind. They said people lost the ability to speak when they were too shocked, and this was exactly that.
“So, what brings the two of you here?”
“Ah, well...”
The pair, left speechless, naturally turned toward Unam.
Unam let out a sigh and stepped forward.
“Chung Myung.”
“Yes?”
“...We’ve run into a problem.”
“...I mean.”
His eyes were smiling. Yes, they were definitely smiling.
But the corners of those eyes were twitching nonstop. And the corners of his mouth, pulled up unnaturally, were trembling so badly that no one could honestly call that expression a smile.
“Who touched what?”
“...As you’ve heard...”
When Chung Myung asked through clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut, Hwang Jong-ui answered cautiously.
“The water bandits interfered with the cargo runs...”
“...So...”
Chung Myung slowly opened his eyes.
The eyes that had been curved like a crescent moon a moment ago now shone like the slick scales of a venomous snake.
...I’m gonna piss myself.
Why do his eyes look so small today?
Honestly, if he’d gone to the unorthodox factions, wouldn’t he have been twice as successful by now? Why the hell did that bastard come here instead?
Just his expression and gaze alone were enough to make anyone question his natural alignment. Chung Myung ground his teeth.
“So those Yangtze River water bandit bastards messed with my money supply... no, our brothers, is that what you’re saying?”
Everyone carefully chose to ignore the brief glimpse of Chung Myung’s true feelings that had slipped out.
“That’s right. It seems we need to discuss the situation together.”
“Discuss? Discuss what?”
Chung Myung’s eyes went wide.
“If someone lays a hand on another man’s money supply... no, friend, then the only rule in the martial world is that they hand over their neck! What’s there to discuss? Just grab them all now and drown them in the river!”
“...”
“The Water Bandit Sect?”
Every time Chung Myung cracked his neck left and right, a chilling sound rang out.
“I mean, first the bandit bastards give us trouble, and now the water bandits are causing chaos. Fine. Let’s turn the Yangtze into a sea of blood. The fish will have a feast.”
Who was the Daoist here, and who was the bandit?
Everyone was forced to wrestle with that fundamental question.
Chung Myung sprang to his feet and seized the Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword hanging beside him.
“Lord Guild Leader.”
“Yes?”
“You said there are still people missing, right?”
“...That’s correct.”
A faint chill settled across Chung Myung’s face.
“Then let’s hurry. If we move fast, maybe we can save one more.”
With that, Chung Myung strode out of Baekmae Hall without another word. The Mount Hua disciples who had been watching his back in silence nodded and followed after him.