Where Is Mount Hua? (3)
Thud. Thud.
The Mount Hua disciples collapsed in a heap in front of the manor, having finally brought the carts to a stop.
“Guhhhhh….”
“I’m, I’m done….”
“At last… at long last, damn it….”
It was a sight worthy of applause. After running back and forth between Mugang and Gugang several times a day, they had finally succeeded in bringing every refugee who wished to relocate to Sichuan all the way here to the manor.
“...Never again. Not ever.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The Mount Hua disciples shuddered in unison.
Of course, someone might have found that puzzling. Weren’t these martial artists, hardened through grueling physical training? How hard could it be to make a few round trips between Wuhan and Gugang?
If they had simply traveled back and forth, it wouldn’t have been so bad. The problem was the demon at their backs, barking at them to go faster the whole way.
“Tsk.”
Cheong Myeong hopped down from the pile of luggage on the cart and looked around with a thoroughly displeased expression.
“...What’s so hard about that, tsk.”
“...”
“Feels like we could make one more trip.”
“It’s over, you bastard!”
“We’ve stripped every village bare!”
“We even hauled off the dog from some kennel! What more are we supposed to move here?”
“Just kill me already! Kill me!”
As the Mount Hua disciples foamed at the mouth and recoiled, Cheong Myeong clicked his tongue with visible disappointment.
If there had been the slightest bit of room left, he would have dragged those hopeless fools out for one more round. Unfortunately, even in his eyes, there was nothing left to move now.
At that moment, Hyun Jong, who had stepped down from the cart, looked down at the disciples with a pained expression.
“You have all worked very hard.”
“Not at all, Sect Leader!”
“This is only natural!”
The Mount Hua disciples who had been sprawled on the ground all sprang upright to answer him. Seeing that, Cheong Myeong’s cheeks puffed out.
“Wow. So you really do treat people differently.”
“What, you think we wouldn’t?”
“Of course we’d treat them differently!”
“What, now he wants the same treatment as the Sect Leader?”
“That shameless bastard!”
Listening to the complaints bursting out around him, Cheong Myeong tilted his head at an angle.
I really ought to give these idiots a proper beating soon.
Back when they were shut in the mountain and getting pummeled day after day, they’d behaved themselves well enough. But now that they’d tasted a little outside water, they were starting to crawl back up again. At times like this, he really ought to shove a needle into that bloated belly of theirs and let the whole thing explode.
“Hyun Young.”
“Yes, Sect Leader.”
“Is everything truly finished?”
At Hyun Jong’s question, Hyun Young flipped through the ledger and checked.
“Yes, Sect Leader. Every last one of them has been prepared for relocation. Even the common folk who said they wanted to go along have all been moved over to Wuhan, and we checked again with those left behind, so there’s nothing more to do.”
“Hmm. I see.”
Hyun Jong did not look especially bright.
Mount Hua had done everything it could, had exerted its utmost effort, and yet there were still far too many people who insisted on remaining by the Yangtze. So he could not simply rejoice that their duty was done.
But he could not show that in front of the disciples who had worked so hard. With a warm smile, Hyun Jong nodded.
“You all have worked hard, so let us rest well for a while.”
“Yes, Sect Leader!”
“Th-thank you!”
The disciples’ eyes grew glossy at the kindness.
Cheong Myeong, however, seemed entirely dissatisfied that Hyun Jong was giving them a break and kept muttering under his breath.
“What, tired from what? We couldn’t even train during all that time, and now that we’ve finished the errands, we should be training. The sword’s gonna rust. You’re supposed to train when you’re this worn out, so your blade doesn’t go to hell when things really get hard later….”
“Hahahahahaha!”
Hyun Jong buried the grumbling beneath a seasoned roar of laughter.
Cheong Myeong couldn’t keep needling the Sect Leader forever. So he turned his glare instead on the disciples, who were still watching him nervously.
Those bright, rolling eyes made the Mount Hua disciples shiver.
Look at that. Look at that face.
See those eyes?
That snake-like bastard. Great heavens, ancestors. That monster is a Taoist priest.
Hyun Jong grabbed Cheong Myeong by the shoulders and pulled him a little farther away from the disciples he was eyeing like prey.
“You too, go inside and rest.”
“Ugh.”
Cheong Myeong let out an aggrieved groan, clearly unable to let go of his disappointment. Just then, Dang Gun-ak, who had come out from the manor, smiled faintly at the familiar sight of Mount Hua’s chaos.
“You have all worked hard, Alliance Leader.”
“Not at all. It was nothing, really….”
Hyun Jong glanced at the ragged state of his disciples, then covered his mouth and coughed awkwardly. Looking at them like that, he could hardly say it had been nothing.
Dang Gun-ak looked over the Mount Hua disciples and asked—though more precisely, his gaze flicked toward Cheong Myeong and the five swords.
“So, do you intend to return to Shaanxi now?”
“Hmm, well.”
Hyun Jong sighed softly, looking a little troubled. They had come here in response to the Tang Family’s request for assistance, after all. As far as their duties here were concerned, they had done all they could.
But there was much to consider before returning to Shaanxi just like this.
“...I’m still worried about those left behind by the Yangtze.”
“Sect Leader.”
Dang Gun-ak shook his head.
“How could I not understand your feelings? But… as you surely know as well, if we fight to save them, then we will inevitably be drawn into the affairs of the Yangtze.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s not different from what we originally intended, is it?”
“I know that. I do, but….”
Hyun Jong glanced subtly in one direction. At the end of that line of sight was Cheong Myeong’s back, as he stood facing south. Lately, Cheong Myeong had often been standing there, staring blankly toward the Yangtze.
He must have a lot on his mind.
There are times when a person’s heart wants one thing and his head another, and the two are in conflict. Perhaps Cheong Myeong was caught in such a state now.
At times like this, it was all the more important for him, as the Sect Leader, to steady his own heart. There was nothing wrong with Cheong Myeong’s insistence that they must not interfere in the affairs of the Yangtze.
“...I think we should return.”
“Yes, Alliance Leader. The Tang Family also intends to lead those who remain here to Sichuan.”
“That would be the proper course.”
Hyun Jong nodded slowly.
In the end, that was how things should be. Once they had already made enemies of Shaolin, there was no longer any way they could stand face-to-face and do anything together.
“We’ll rest and make our preparations for a while, then head back to Shaanxi.”
“Yes, please do.”
Dang Gun-ak smiled faintly. In truth, it had been the Tang Family that had been the most reluctant to let go, but now that they had moved so many of the people who had shown goodwill toward the Tang Family to Sichuan, that reluctance seemed to have faded considerably.
He, too, felt the regret deeply, but it could not compare to simply letting go and leaving.
“Yes. Then….”
Hyun Jong was about to call the disciples and head into the manor when—
“Hmm?”
Dang Gun-ak turned his head to one side. He had sensed people approaching quickly from that direction.
Jianghu people?
Judging by their speed and momentum, they were by no means ordinary.
Hyun Jong and the Mount Hua disciples had apparently sensed it as well, for they all rose at once and looked that way.
And then—
Fwoosh!
Parting the thick brush as if he meant to break through it, a man emerged. The moment Dang Gun-ak recognized his face, he could not hide his surprise.
“...Elder Jao-gae?”
The man who had appeared at the front was clearly Jao-gae of the Beggars Sect. They were not especially close, but as the Patriarch of the Tang Family, there was no way he would fail to recognize an elder of the Beggars Sect.
“How did you come to be here….”
What was more, his appearance was bizarre.
Rags were practically the Beggars Sect’s emblem, but Jao-gae was not even wearing a top. Stranger still, the other Beggars Sect members behind him were similarly dressed only in trousers.
“Huff! Huff!”
Jao-gae wiped the sweat running down his face with one hand.
“...Patriarch.”
Then he turned his gaze to Hyun Jong beside Dang Gun-ak.
“Sect Leader.”
His face was grave as he spoke.
“I have brought someone who wished to meet the two of you.”
“What?”
As soon as he finished speaking, a man laboriously lowered himself from the back of the sweat-soaked Beggars Sect member. He looked so drained of strength that he had to use the sword in his hand like a walking stick.
Everyone who saw him inhaled sharply. His condition was too dreadful to describe merely as miserable.
His clothes were soaked and clinging with dark red blood, and through the tears in his garments, his flesh was covered with ghastly slash wounds.
His hair hung in a wild, disheveled mess, and his bluish lips were dried and cracked all over.
At first, no one there recognized him. It was hard to connect that ruined figure with the brilliant, dignified man they knew so well.
But after staring for a while at a shape that somehow seemed familiar, someone sucked in a breath and muttered under their breath like a groan.
“Namgung….”
The others who heard it widened their eyes.
“Namgung… Do… wi.”
Only then, after realizing his identity, did everyone send him stunned looks.
No one paused to wonder why Namgung Dowi, who should have been on Maehwado, was here. They simply stared at the eyes visible through his fallen hair.
Step.
Then Namgung Dowi took one painful step forward.
Step.
Another step.
Before he had even completed two, he swayed, and one of the Beggars Sect members twitched instinctively as if to catch him. But the man quickly bit his lip and drew his hand back. He knew he must not help Namgung Dowi right now.
Thud. Thud.
Though the sword—his life itself—kept striking the dirt over and over, no one could point a finger at him.
Everyone knew how much pain Namgung Dowi must be enduring just to take those steps.
Step. Step.
That faltering, unbroken walk finally came to a stop before someone.
In the stillness, Namgung Dowi and Cheong Myeong met each other’s eyes.
Namgung Dowi’s gaze trembled and flickered endlessly, as if he were begging for something, while Cheong Myeong looked back at him without the slightest wavering.
“...Daoist.”
Thud.
Namgung Dowi collapsed to his knees as if his body had fallen apart beneath him.
The Mount Hua disciples, who had first rushed forward thinking he had fainted, stopped in place soon after.
Kneeling there, Namgung Dowi slowly lowered his head to the ground in front of Cheong Myeong.
His posture was so unsteady it seemed as though he might topple over at any moment, and from his cracked lips came a voice as ragged as dry wood.
“Please….”
“...”
“...Please help us.”
Everyone shut their eyes.
Baek Cheon, Yu I-seol, Yoon Jong, Jo Geol, Dang So-so. Hyun Jong and the elders, even the others of the Mount Hua disciples, including Un Geom’s generation and the rest.
Their hearts hurt too much to look upon that sight with any calm at all.
“Please help… the Namgung….”
That voice, like steel scraping over steel, continued in a low murmur.
It was not a cry of rage. It was not a scream. In some ways, it was so unnervingly calm that it was almost excessive, yet the desperation buried within it was clear to everyone.
“Please help the Namgung.”
Namgung Dowi, his head pressed to the earth, clawed at the dirt as though trying to dig his plea into it.
“...Please.”
Even Cheong Myeong, the only one who had watched the hunched back of Namgung Dowi in silence and with perfect steadiness, finally had no choice but to turn his head away.
The darkest night sky, with no hint of dawn yet breaking, flooded his vision.
Damn it….
A deep sigh escaped from Cheong Myeong’s mouth.