Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Troublesome Connections (1)
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Lee Seo-jeong rushed off to eat the ice crystal, afraid someone else might get to it first. I thought she was just going along with it to play along, but no—she was desperate to become an absolute expert.
A short while after that.
Mujin had to leave the sect with his son.
Don't get the wrong idea; he wasn't kicked out.
The Little Dragon Tournament was approaching.
To be honest, I didn't think there was any need to go right now. It was a tournament for kids who hadn't even grown peach fuzz yet, so why not just go when the date rolled around?
But my father said:
"And you call yourself a father?"
I genuinely couldn't understand why he'd say something like that. As a father, I'd invested love and elixirs in my son's growth, supporting him materially and spiritually. Sure, it might sound materialistic to put a price on it, but it had to be worth millions of nyang at least.
And yet, "You call yourself a father?" What kind of bullshit was that?
I almost let loose on him, but held back because he was my father. I should count myself lucky to have him as one. Back in the day, anyone who talked back like that would have been beaten and forced to run ten laps around the training grounds.
'Preliminary investigations my ass.'
-You're right. He's practically my disciple. Why bother investigating some random punks?
'Who said he's your disciple!'
-I passed on my techniques and even shared my insights. If that's not a disciple, what is it? You'd have to call me a thief otherwise! Make sure to hold the apprenticeship ceremony!
'What if he turns into a demon later?'
-You know he won't, so quit nitpicking.
My father's nagging continued.
He told me to take Taejin along, scout the local atmosphere, and thoroughly investigate the opponents. So even though there was still time before the date, here I was, setting out on this pointless trip.
On the way, Mijoo insisted on coming along, but Mother's glare was anything but ordinary. She was eyeing me like I was about to drag off her precious granddaughter again.
So I thought I'd bring my wife instead, but she had duties as chief steward. Father and the elders actively blocked it, so she couldn't come. It really hit home just how vital my wife's role was to the sect.
'I need to bring that guy back soon.'
-Poor guy.
'Poor? His words made it obvious.'
-True. The hypocrites of the righteous faction won't let him live.
When Yong Mugil's genius shone as a strategist and the Murim Alliance racked up victories, not everyone welcomed it. Especially as his fame grew, more people checked him. No matter how brilliant he was, Yong Mugil had no backing. He needed time, but did they look like fools who'd wait?
'Maybe the Demonic Cult of the Demon God would be better. It's a filthy world anyway—whether we save it or not.'
-The Demonic Cult only wants destruction, not a human world.
True enough. It was a sect formed by bloodthirsty maniacs banding together. At its pinnacle stood Cheon-gyeong. It was hard to side with guys trying to turn the world into hell. Come to think of it, they were weirdos. Ignoring human desires like that—what good was causing ruin?
'Anyway, whoever falls into my hands dies.'
-Say that after you find them. Holed up at home, how exactly do you plan to crush them!
'I'm biding my time. Heaven's will says so.'
-What heaven's will? You don't even believe in the damn sky! You're the guy who beat up the Kunlun Three Sages for being possessed by petty gods!
'...How'd you know?'
-Don't underestimate the Demonic Cult's intelligence network!
Mujin sighed deeply, brushing off the pointless bickering with Cheon-gyeong. He wasn't thrilled about heading to the Nangong family earlier than planned.
Haaa!
His sigh met his son's eyes.
Taejin pouted, chewing his lip. He was trying not to show it, but Father was seriously biased. He'd said not to distinguish between son and daughter, just raise one properly—yet here he was, distinguishing clear as day.
"You, jealous of Mijoo?"
"Father~~~~!"
"Be bold like your big brother."
"You said Dad told Uncle the same thing back then!"
"...This kid, digging into his father's past now?"
"Everyone knows!"
Ahem.
True, I kept hearing how much he'd changed along the way. Even trying not to listen, an absolute expert's ears pulled in sounds from a thousand li like a single step. They heard so well I had to filter it out myself, yet my nape itched anyway. I was definitely one of the local celebrities.
"Mijoo's still young."
"I know."
Pffft!
Regardless of agreement, Taejin was dissatisfied. He was thirteen now. Dad's favoritism started at eight. Before that, Dad had been such a playboy there was no time to see his face. Considering Mijoo was eight now, it was blatant favoritism.
'I'm the only one suffering!'
Taejin faced an unavoidable reality. He bore all the expectations around him. Already touted as the next sect heir. In those expectant gazes, what could he say? He'd just sound like a pathetic big brother jealous of his little sister.
"Son."
"What?"
Mujin chuckled at Taejin's sullen reply. Posing as the family heir, but it showed all over his face.
"What are expectations, kid?"
"Huh?"
"No need to live so stuffy. Say it if you don't like it. What can't you tell your dad?"
"And if I do?"
"Nothing changes."
"What's that supposed to mean!"
Building up hope only to say it wouldn't change anything. Taejin seethed. But with an answer like that, his desired response was unlikely.
'That's life.'
-Looks more like teasing your son to me.
'Sons exist to entertain their fathers.'
-Rot in your old age!
'My son is too good for that. Unlike you.'
-I never relied on my kids!
Mujin never stopped bragging about his son. Grousing or complaining, a son was a son. He ignored the Demon King's jabs, who had none of his own.
And he knew well the burden his son carried. Expectations weren't all good. They could become chains constricting him. Why live a lifetime doing what you don't want?
-Talking like you've lived it all. You can spout that because you can look back.
'Exactly, no retorts.'
Unless he realized it himself, outside words wouldn't bring change easily. Of course, he'd give his son chances to avoid going astray. As my son, he should get what he wants.
'Who was at the Nangong family again?'
-The Sword Emperor. How do you know nothing!
'Nicknames don't feed you. Besides, I didn't see the Sword Emperor back then.'
-He wasn't there during the Great Blood War.
'Why not?'
-What good is knowing? Even if the Sword Emperor lived, he wasn't my match.
Comparing with the dead was pointless. In truth, Cheon-gyeong knew little of history before the Great Blood War. It was past, and he was busy plotting escape from the seal.
Mujin had been fighting nonstop since entering the martial world, with no talent for history. Fame didn't equal skill anyway. You had to clash to know.
'Full of posers.'
How they'd bluffed through life.
No sense of crisis.
That's why they fell.
He traveled on horseback with his son, not a carriage. Taejin could drive one, but the roads were too rough. Having Dad drive while the son rode inside looked bad—like parading an unfilial son.
So they rode horses.
Packed minimal luggage, ate at inns. Hit famous ones in each village.
Decent lodgings, minimized needless friction en route. Avoided trouble, drew no attention. Nothing attention-worthy happened anyway.
Mujin and Taejin weren't strikingly handsome. Solid builds, average looks. Not ugly, but not turning heads.
"Son, be grateful for your blessings."
"Me?"
"With looks like ours, no annoying entanglements. Praise your father for passing on this ordinary body."
"...Really?"
"Of course. Not ugly either. For a man, that's plenty. Back it with skill."
Mujin was content with his appearance. Drop-dead gorgeous or beauties attract flies. Too ugly breeds disgust. Looks matter, but balance is key.
-Classic self-consolation.
'Martial artists don't eat faces.'
-Still better handsome. Captured women lost their minds over my face.
'Bragging about anything.'
-You're the weird one.
Mujin admitted that much.
Cheon-gyeong was jade-carved handsome. Purely by looks, legends like Song Ok or Ban An yielded. Plus demonic aura for manly edge. That wicked vibe probably melted women.
Not envious.
I had a wife, kids. That sufficed. What good in crowds of women if I'm unhappy?
Mujin had his share of popularity too.
Martial artists valued strength; the War King was unrivaled. No backing drew ambitious women aiming to wed and drain him dry.
"That's why no So?"
"Pretty much."
So, the White Tiger incarnate, was too cute pre-transformation, drawing women's eyes. Women drive men to folly for show. Couldn't hand over the White Tiger; better skip the harsh lessons. Easier not to bring him.
'Left him for important reasons too.'
I didn't say it was for wife and daughter—to spare the son. He pretended otherwise but adored cute things. So without So, he'd still fawn anyway.
Arriving in Soho, Mujin sold the horses at the horse market. They'd take a boat from there. To Hefei on the other side, walking sufficed, but boat was planned.
The boat left tomorrow.
Mujin found a decent inn, not shabby.
Liked the sign: Golden Virtue Inn. Three stories, plain but clean from the entrance.
"Welcome."
"One night, best view possible?"
"Lucky timing. Third floor spot just opened."
"Meals to the room, best they got."
"Five nyang."
"Here."
Not cheap. Usually two nyang sufficed, but the third-floor room explained it. Window opened to Soho sprawling below. Worth three nyang easy.
"Fits you, Father."
"Quick on the uptake, kid."
Always ate in the room at inns. One of his three iron rules. Dining downstairs sparked trouble. All sorts gathered, especially with martial artists flocking for the tournament. Hotheads drew swords on eye contact. Lowlifes posed no threat, but no point in friction.
"Then how do you make connections?"
"No need at inns."
"When do you show heroism then?"
"Better if it never happens. Looks like you want trouble, son. Ordinary folk get hurt. You gonna take responsibility for their lives?"