Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Flow of Time (3)
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Muho had no particular desire to meet a woman right now. Ever since five years ago, he'd newly established his sword arts and pioneered new realms of attainment. Yet still, he couldn't even reach his brother's heel. There was no way he could live his life trailing behind like this.
'I can't keep getting beaten even in my old age!'
At the very least, he had to match him evenly—or at least put up a fight. Things were desperate right now. Each beating was something new, and more painful than the last. They said it built bone and flesh, but he'd get sick from it first.
"Sorry to interrupt. Carry on."
"Take care."
Elder Kang left the training grounds and headed into the inner courtyard. He looked proudly at the sect's descendants growing day by day, but he hadn't lost his fighting spirit. Age was just a number—he had to prove it with his sword.
'I won't let them treat me like some backroom old fogey.'
After his duel with the vice sect leader, he'd gained enlightenment and elevated the essence of his swordsmanship by more than a step. Ever since that day, he'd forsaken sleep to hone his blade. One day, the old soldier would show he wasn't done yet.
"Little Grandpa, where are you off to?"
"You're as cheeky as ever."
"Gotta stay cheeky to keep the sect safe."
"Even so, as a descendant of the sword family, you can't forget your sword."
It was Mujin, hauling a massive load of firewood on his way back.
Elder Kang regarded him calmly. But inwardly, he was still displeased.
Huh?
He'd heard Mujin had been chopping wood for five years now.
He'd set aside his claim to sect leadership and taken on a humble role. Back then, Elder Kang had wondered how long it'd last—maybe three days at most. But five years had passed, and the sect was overflowing with firewood.
'Why's there so damn much?'
It was true they'd said he came back loaded up, but this was ridiculous—he practically had to tilt his head back to see the top. A single log was light, but stacked like that, it had to weigh a ton. At least 800 jin, easy. Even ten grown men would feel the strain.
'Doesn't that take effort?'
For the first time, unlike the times he'd glossed over it, Elder Kang really looked at Mujin. This wasn't wood from the back mountain. Different kind of trees. It had to come from some distant peak. More distance meant more work. Carrying that weight all the way back to the sect should've left him drenched in sweat, but his skin was pristine.
"Isn't it heavy?"
"Everyone carries this much, don't they? Even you could, Little Grandpa."
"...Sure."
No reason he couldn't if he tried.
But not you.
Born lazy and indolent, skipping training to boot. For him to answer so casually was downright infuriating.
And he's no genius either.
Still, for the sect's future, he'd boldly stepped aside and retreated from the front lines. Knowing it wasn't an easy choice, Elder Kang had kept quiet about it all this time. In fact, by doing nothing, he'd actually helped the sect.
"Even so, you're the sect leader's eldest son. In times like these, you should be setting an example, not doing menial chores."
"If I don't do the chores, someone else from the sect has to, right? That's a waste of manpower. I'm very satisfied with my job. The side income's pretty good too."
Job satisfaction was high. Elder Kang's mouth soured at the leisure wafting off Mujin.
This wasn't the weird conversation he'd intended—it kept veering off track. Truth be told, things were fine as they were. The sect leader didn't want more either. He'd said it came after much agonizing deliberation, handing it over to his brother.
If Mujin picked up a sword and got involved in sect affairs, it wouldn't benefit Muho. No matter the reason, Mujin was the eldest son and former heir. It could always lead to something against Muho's wishes.
'Living easy all by himself... it rubs me the wrong way.'
The answer was obvious.
Everyone else was busy. Led by the vice sect leader, they charged ahead for the sect's growth. Mujin alone was idle. Time, you fly on by. He wasn't grasping at passing time—he was enjoying the present.
A young punk seeming to have life all figured out was goading Elder Kang's ire. Here he was, old as he got, newly inspired by the sword and training relentlessly.
How dare a young whippersnapper slack off already!
But he had to admit...
"You've got plenty of free time too."
"Your brother's grinding from dawn till dusk, gnashing his teeth in determination, and you're his big brother mouthing off like that?"
"Are you saying I should pick up the sword starting now? Join all the sect's major events? If that's what you want, sure. What's so hard about it?"
Needled out of annoyance, and he was coming on strong. Elder Kang fumbled, caught off guard by the unexpected response.
"Well... no need to get that enthusiastic."
"Good, 'cause that would've been a hassle if you meant it."
"A hassle? Sect affairs are no small matter!"
"Should I then?"
"That's not what I...!"
When Mujin mentioned joining sect events, Elder Kang regretted his words, his mouth souring again. The conversation shouldn't flow like this—he kept getting pulled along by Mujin.
There was a reason he couldn't push or pull. By staying out, Mujin was already helping.
Besides, useless as Mujin was, his wife was competent. Baek Yujin, who'd claimed the chief steward position, was a talent too good for her gender. The sect needed her. Looking at it another way, why she'd chosen Mujin remained a mystery. It was one reason they let him slide despite the huge damage he'd caused the sect.
'Even so, he's way too comfy.'
Youth passes once and never returns. Squander it, and regrets pile up with age. Mujin had improved as a person since before, but he was still a sword family descendant. He should set an example for others, not play woodsman.
"You know the Little Dragon Tournament's coming up soon."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Taejin's entering this time, and you're this indifferent?"
"It's a kids' tournament."
"It's hosted by the Nangong family."
"I see."
To Mujin, Nangong clan or Shaolin—it didn't matter. He wouldn't have known about the Little Dragon Tournament if Elder Kang hadn't mentioned it. It was just kids brawling anyway.
They set age limits from ten to sixteen to even it out, but still, kids. You never knew how kids would grow. Leading now didn't guarantee leading later.
'All flash, no substance.'
Excel early, get cocky, slack on training—that could happen. Better to gain real battle experience later, once matured.
'Not that I can stop him.'
Back in the day, he'd have clamored to enter.
Of course he had. Got knocked out in the prelims first round. Telling his own son not to go when he'd gone himself? Hypocritical.
'Who was it?'
The memory of defeat was hazy. Only pounding drinks afterward stuck. He didn't bother dredging up lost memories. If it mattered, it'd surface eventually.
"Taejin's the future pillar of the sect. You need to look after him properly."
"At that age, just eat well and play hard—they shoot up like weeds. Look at me."
Don't turn out like you.
Disaster waiting to happen.
Don't copy his posture.
Mujin flexed his bicep!
The elder's head throbbed!
Mujin's nonchalance piled irritation on Elder Kang like a tower. At the same time, something felt off. Before, the kid avoided him like the plague. Couldn't even meet eyes without dodging. Now? No avoidance—just grinning cheekily.
'Is he mocking me?!'
But his demeanor said no. Not mocking, not even interested. Made it ambiguous to call it disregard. It just made Elder Kang feel like he was accosting a content woodsman with pointless nagging.
'Not wrong, though.'
Mujin's son Taejin was the sect's rising star and hope. Elder Kang secretly expected great things from him at the tournament. His skills outshone his peers by far.
'Chief Steward Baek for sure.'
Mujin meddling could only hurt. Let Chief Steward Baek handle it like always. He'd nearly ruined the sect's hope with one slip of the tongue—turning him into a dunce. For the record, he hoped the boy took after no one in the father department.
Now and then.
Past: scoundrel. Present: loafer.
Hard to fathom how a gem like Taejin came from Mujin. "Like father, like son" and "blood is thicker than water" didn't always hold.
"Sun's high noon. Wanna grab a bite?"
"Busy."
"Alright, I'm off then."
"Ahem."
He hadn't planned to leave, but after one invite and poof!—Elder Kang stood there dumbfounded. He'd refused, yet felt sour. Not sure where the dissuasion started, but it escalated beyond handling.
'Now he's brazening it out?'
Calling him a rice-gobbling parasite was iffy too. Mujin's firewood was neatly stacked mountain-high. Enough to earn his keep. Labeling that freeloading insulted woodsmen.
'...No wobble at all!'
Watching Mujin recede, Elder Kang tilted his head. Expected some sway, even a little—but perfectly steady. The load itself was level, turning his stomach.
He hadn't turned, but a thick smile played on Mujin's lips.
'Was Little Grandpa always this fun?'
He hadn't realized back then.
Scary, annoying, meddlesome—that's all. Nitpicked everything, too iron-willed to defy. Scariest guy in the sect, really.
Now?
Grumpy, but cute old man. Teasing him was endlessly amusing.
'Next time, tea—or maybe liquor.'
Off to heaven or hell—who knows.