This Is My Role (2)
“... Sect Leader.”
Baek Cheon found himself clenching his fist before he even realized it.
It was the kind of thing he had wanted to hear more than anything else.
And yet it was also something he could never truly dare to wish for. The words Beop Jeong had just spoken were so sharp they seemed capable of piercing straight through the lungs of anyone listening from the side.
If Baek Cheon had been standing in that place, what on earth would he have said? Would he really have had the courage to choose righteousness and openly make an enemy of Shaolin?
Of course, Baek Cheon the Second-Generation Disciple of Mount Hua could do it.
But could Baek Cheon, the Sect Leader of Mount Hua, truly have made that choice?
Knowing just how difficult that decision was, Baek Cheon felt his chest heat up as he looked at Hyun Jong.
The others were no different.
What filled the eyes of Mount Hua’s disciples as they looked at Hyun Jong was nothing but trust and pride. Had he not refused to back down even against Shaolin’s Beop Jeong, and upheld his own righteousness, Mount Hua’s justice?
Of course, Beop Jeong and Beop Gye could not ride that surging mood.
Bewilderment crept over Beop Jeong’s face.
“How...?”
It wasn’t the first time he had been refused. But in all his life, this was the first time someone had looked him in the face and declared that they would walk a different path.
Even the Nine Sects and the Five Great Families had turned down his proposal, but they had at least not dared to meet his eyes and say it to his face. They had sent a letter from far away and quietly tucked their tails between their legs.
If they had been sitting before Beop Jeong in person, they would never have dared say they would not obey.
And yet... with what confidence was Hyun Jong standing here, saying such things to his face?
Right in front of Beop Jeong, the Bangjang of the Thousand-Year Shaolin?
“Alliance Leader... no, Sect Leader.”
Beop Jeong swallowed dryly, as if he were struggling to go on.
“Is this... is this truly Mount Hua’s will? Truly?”
Frustration and anger bled through his voice.
Beop Jeong was still human, after all, and this memory would cloud any judgment that followed. Still, leaving a bad memory in the heart of the Bangjang of Thousand-Year Shaolin was a burden Hyun Jong could not ignore.
But Hyun Jong only met him with calm eyes.
No matter how fierce the wind blew, a plum tree whose roots had sunk deep into the earth would never tremble.
“That is correct.”
Beop Jeong opened his mouth a little, then shut it again, as though even his long practice could not fully restrain the emotion swelling in him.
“Do you think I made all of these proposals for Shaolin’s glory?”
“......”
“Though our roads may differ, all of this was for the sake of all the people under heaven. And even so, Mount Hua refuses to join hands with Shaolin to the very end?”
Chung Myung’s eyes turned fierce. The moment he was about to speak, Baek Cheon seized his wrist, as if to say: trust Hyun Jong.
“A path for all the people under heaven, you say...”
Hyun Jong nodded slowly.
“Mount Hua does not doubt Shaolin’s words. However the method may differ, I do not wish to doubt that what the Bangjang desires is peace.”
“Then why refuse?”
Hyun Jong smiled faintly.
“Bangjang. Why must there be only one path?”
“......”
“Mount Hua is also a place that serves all the people under heaven. Whatever we do, we strive not to erase the two characters of righteousness from our hearts.”
“Then...”
“But.”
Hyun Jong’s voice turned firm.
“A shared purpose does not mean a shared path. Shaolin, in Shaolin’s way, and Mount Hua, in Mount Hua’s way, can strive toward the same result.”
“......”
“To think that the only way to bring peace to the world is to stand with Shaolin—would that not be the Bangjang’s arrogance?”
Beop Jeong’s face twisted.
Of all the things he had heard, the word arrogance was the one that enraged him most.
“The arrogant one here is not Shaolin, but Mount Hua!”
“That bastard—!”
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Chung Myung snapped up, only for the Five Swords to seize the hems of his robes from all sides.
“Th-...”
He had flared up for a moment, but Chung Myung also knew this was no place for violence, so he grabbed at his own thigh and forced himself still.
After a brief silence, Beop Jeong seemed to realize he had gone too far and drew a deep breath. Though he had regained some composure, the fire in his eyes had not faded.
“Further conversation is meaningless.”
“My apologies, Bangjang.”
“I respect the Sect Leader’s decision. But...”
Beop Jeong’s eyes locked straight on Hyun Jong.
“There is one thing you must remember. Every choice carries a price.”
It was a blunt enough statement to change the color of several disciples’ faces.
Yet Hyun Jong only nodded calmly.
“If there is a price to pay, then it must be paid.”
“It need not have been paid. If only the Sect Leader had been a little wiser.”
Hyun Jong said nothing and simply looked back at Beop Jeong. His tranquil eyes seemed to press down on the abbot.
“Indeed, if I had been a little wiser, I would not have refused the Bangjang’s proposal.”
“Then how—!”
“Is that not what righteousness is?”
“......”
“The wise naturally weigh profit and loss. But one who seeks to hold righteousness in his heart must follow not profit, but the path of his convictions.”
Beop Jeong closed his mouth.
“That is the path of Mount Hua, as I see it.”
Beop Jeong shut his eyes without a word. The prayer beads in his hand spun rapidly over his fingers. After standing in silence for a long while, he slowly opened his eyes again.
“Righteousness...”
A strange smile touched his lips.
“That sounds as though you are saying Shaolin does not seek righteousness.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“...I have understood Mount Hua’s position well enough.”
Beop Jeong rose to his feet.
Remaining here any longer would only add to the humiliation. Why should he keep facing those who could no longer even be called allies?
“The tea was fine, Sect Leader.”
“...Yes.”
“No need to see me out. Then.”
Beop Jeong slowly swept his gaze across everyone in the room. His eyes came to rest, last of all, on Chung Myung.
“You must be satisfied that things have gone your way, Plum Blossom Sword Hero?”
“Looks like the Bangjang’s the one sulking because things didn’t go his way.”
Chung Myung gave a snort and added,
“That’s just how life is, isn’t it?”
“A good point.”
Beop Jeong nodded stiffly.
“But now it will be Mount Hua, not Shaolin, that must learn how harsh life can be. You’ll have to face the wind Shaolin used to block for you on your own.”
“Ah, right. But you do seem to have awfully narrow shoulders. Couldn’t even stop those Sapa bastards from strolling right in.”
Beop Jeong pressed his lips together.
He had plenty to say, but what point was there in trading more words in a situation like this? It would only make him look ridiculous.
This wasn’t merely a failed negotiation.
It was a crushing defeat.
This was the first time he had thrown everything into a decisive move and still failed to impose his will.
No, no.
More precisely, this was the second. The first time his intentions had come to nothing was the World’s Youth Heroes Martial Competition.
I should have realized it then.
That one day Mount Hua might stand in Shaolin’s way.
“Amitabha.”
Uttering a low Buddhist chant, Beop Jeong turned his face away from Chung Myung and spoke.
“Then.”
Without a shred of lingering attachment, he walked out. Beop Gye followed behind him, not even bothering to look at the others, not leaving so much as a polite farewell.
Thunk!
The moment the door slammed shut, the tension that had been stretched taut through Mount Hua’s disciples drained away all at once.
“Whew...”
“...I thought I was going to suffocate.”
“...That was terrifying.”
Beop Jeong was Beop Jeong, after all.
The pressure radiating from Shaolin’s Bangjang in person was not something they could easily bear. And yet none of them had disgraced themselves; all of them had held out to the very end.
“Sect Leader... are you all right?”
“Hmm.”
At Hyun Young’s concerned question, Hyun Jong gave a low hum.
“I’m not sure whether my decision was right. But Hyun Young. We know all too well by now that being tempted by an easy road for even a moment can bring about a far greater disaster, do we not?”
“...That is true.”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps I’ve placed a difficult burden on all of you because of my own pride.”
“What’s Shaolin, anyway? It’s not like they’re some amazing burden. They’re just a bunch of bald guys living together.”
Even now, Hyun Jong still seemed troubled, and Chung Myung grinned as he spoke to him.
“There couldn’t have been a more perfect answer than that, Sect Leader.”
“Indeed.”
“We think the Sect Leader was right!”
Only then did a smile return to Hyun Jong’s lips.
Those kids, really.
Because of them, he could not recklessly choose the easy road. The proverb said that if the headwaters were clear, the lower stream would be clear too, but sometimes it was the clearest water below that made the waters above purify themselves.
Thunk.
At that moment, Hyun Jong’s gaze shifted toward the door.
Seeing one person quietly follow Beop Jeong out, a low sigh escaped his lips.
“How can they be so uncouth? How could they possibly speak that way to the Bangjang!”
Beop Gye’s face had turned crimson.
If Beop Jeong had not been there, he would have exploded more than once over. To Beop Gye, that was no way to treat Shaolin’s Bangjang. It was a complete lack of respect for the Shaolin that had guarded peace in the martial world for centuries and mediated among countless sects.
Normally, even Beop Jeong would have rebuked him for reacting that way, but this time he said nothing. He merely kept his lips sealed and strode toward the mountain gate with long steps.
“Plum Blossom Sword Hero... Hyun Jong.”
A voice that sounded almost like boiling water leaked from Beop Jeong’s mouth.
Had he ever endured such humiliation in his entire life? His insides burned and seethed as though he had swallowed hot coals.
Since when has Shaolin been treated like this?
He had worked so hard for the sake of the world—so why did everyone only think of themselves?
Grit.
Beop Jeong bit down hard on his lip without realizing it.
“Amitabha...”
Unable to contain the surging fury, he clenched his fist.
“I still believed Mount Hua would have a sense of righteousness. I was wrong.”
“Bangjang...”
“Let us return to Shaolin.”
Just because the Heavenly Friends Alliance would not help did not mean they could not face the Four Hegemons Alliance. They had only hoped to reduce the damage.
If that would not work, then now it was time to show them.
That Shaolin had not been enduring because it lacked power—and why Shaolin had been called Thousand-Year Shaolin, why it had held the northern star’s place in the martial world for centuries!
To those treacherous Sapa bastards and the righteous factions that had forgotten the Way!
At that moment, Beop Jeong’s steps came to an abrupt halt.
“Beop Gye!”
“Yes, Bangjang!”
“Bring Hye Yeon with you! I can no longer leave a Shaolin disciple in a place like this.”
“Ah, I understand.”
As Beop Gye, shaken by Beop Jeong’s fury, was about to turn in haste—
“There’s no need for that, Bangjang.”
A calm voice came from behind them.
Beop Jeong and Beop Gye turned around.
There stood Hye Yeon, hands pressed together in a respectful salute. And he was wearing Mount Hua’s robes, which looked absurdly out of place on him.
“What perfect timing. Pack your things! You’ll be coming back to Shaolin with us. No, there’s no need to pack at all! We’ll leave at once.”
“Bangjang.”
Hye Yeon lowered his clasped hands and looked at Beop Jeong.
His clear, wide eyes were as calm as a still lake.
“I will not be going.”
“...What did you say?”
Beop Jeong asked again, hardly believing his ears, and Hye Yeon simply shook his head.
“I said I will not go.”
“You—”
Beop Gye’s eyes turned cold as ice. Then a storm of fury crashed toward Hye Yeon.