Chapter 44
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: One Win, One Loss (2)
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Compared to the Zhuge Clan, the Pine Tiger Sect was an obscure little sect so insignificant it might as well have been shrouded in fog. And yet, he remembers it? Sure, if the Zhuge Clan had extended their influence all the way to Cheongyang, that'd be one thing.
Did our sect somehow get famous while I wasn't looking?
It was strange, but Mujin didn't think much of it. The smart alecks in the Zhuge Clan had a weird knack for remembering even the most fleeting faces.
That was why it was best not to pick fights with the Zhuge Clan or the Sichuan Tang Clan. Those little punks had memories like steel traps and would nag you about it forever.
Zhuge Gun felt a strange vibe from Mujin's lukewarm reaction. It could be an act, but he genuinely seemed clueless.
Well, that made sense.
"You must have entered the Little Dragon Tournament, right? Still doesn't ring a bell?"
"...?"
How the hell does he know that?
It's not something I'd go around bragging about, and I'm not exactly famous these days anyway.
"Recently, maybe?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Never mind."
Speak of the devil and feel the guilt.
He'd cautiously probed to see if they'd heard rumors about the Soho Stronghold subjugation. Good thing he hadn't slipped up. If he'd let the name drop carelessly, these sharp Zhuge Clan types might have caught on.
"Must have been quite the shock back then."
"Why would I remember something unimportant?"
"Fair enough."
"Anyway, enough chit-chat. Let's eat."
Huangbo Se-ryeong was puzzled when Zhuge Gun mentioned meeting Mujin's father before. He didn't seem the type to wander around picking fights, and his connections weren't that wide. Besides, if Zhuge Gun remembered, then Mujin's father should know him too.
Zhuge Muk was just as curious. Unlike Se-ryeong, though, he wasn't one for caution.
"Dad, how do you know this guy?"
"We crossed swords in the preliminary round of the Little Dragon Tournament."
"But you made it to the Thirty-Two Elites."
"That's right."
What the hell are these father and son doing?
Why are they yapping away while everyone else is trying to eat? Slipping into informal speech on the sly, too. You insolent little brat! Now that he thought about it, he remembered. No wonder the kid rubbed him the wrong way from the start.
In the past, Mujin had been knocked out in the first round of the Little Dragon Tournament. Right in front of everyone, he'd been utterly humiliated. Toyed with mercilessly, until he was begging for his life, clutching at the guy's pants leg.
Everyone there had laughed at him. It wasn't a real fight, just a spar. Using lethal force in front of a crowd like that would have been too risky. No way a brainiac like Zhuge Gun would take that chance. He'd just been thoroughly played.
'This bastard was the mastermind who made me bolt from the stage.'
The humiliation from that tournament had built up into a deep grudge against martial arts itself. But before he could even awaken, time had slipped away. He'd forgotten all about the root of it. Thinking back now, it was ridiculous.
'Come to think of it, what happened to this punk?'
-The Zhuge Clan is a pain. I took them out first.
So that's what happened.
Zhuge Sin-jeong, the Murim Alliance's strategist, had taken in Yong Mu-gil. Maybe he lacked confidence against the Demonic Cult of the Demon God, but it was also the result of a bone-deep vendetta against the cult that had wiped out his family. That grudge was why the Zhuge Clan head hadn't been granted a strategist position when war broke out.
Tsk, what a shame.
'I was planning to handle them myself.'
-You can't even remember them, yet you brag like that.
Either way, this guy had dragged up some nasty memories. If he was dredging up the past that Mujin had no need to recall, he'd better be ready for a beating.
'Gotta repay this grudge properly.'
-See? Told you you're a walking disaster.
Damn it!
He hated to admit it, but his blood was boiling over. Maybe he should just cause a scene and sort out his thoughts later? Crap, the son's here. He came for the Little Dragon Tournament—if his old man started trouble and they had to leave empty-handed...
'Dad wouldn't let me hear the end of it.'
And the most important part—his wife!
He wouldn't be able to face her. Other stuff he could shrug off with a scolding, but disappointing his wife? No thanks. He got an earful every day anyway. One more wouldn't change his reputation.
-The mighty War King bending because he's scared of his wife? Hilarious.
'Hmph, says the guy who croaked before he could even get married.'
Mujin decided to drop it there. By his calculations, decades had passed since then. Holding a grudge this long was just pathetic.
Venting that old rage and tasting some sweet revenge was only natural for a human.
Screw it, you think I'm still that clueless punk?
I'm the War King! War King!
Yelling that out might vent the anger, but he couldn't ruin his son's efforts over some hazy memory.
'Look at me, turning into a proper dad.'
-Self-praise at this level is a disease. Don't get smug!
Mujin looked at his son with a benevolent father's smile.
A chill ran down Taejin's spine.
That weird glint in his dad's eyes was a clear warning. Fix his old man's humiliation, or he'd pay for it at home.
'Sorry, but I can't go down easy.'
Taejin wasn't stupid, even if he misunderstood sometimes. He bottled up his fighting spirit and stoked his will to battle. His father never forgot even the tiniest grudge—he had a heart smaller than a grain of rice.
Zhuge Gun glanced at Taejin and asked Mujin.
"Your son is entering the tournament too, I take it."
"Yes."
Zhuge Gun had a good memory.
The image of Mujin blubbering and begging for mercy in the Little Dragon Tournament prelims flashed in his mind. Even after years of training his composure, he could barely hold back a sneer.
"Let's order some food."
Zhuge Gun called the owner over and asked for more dishes—including Mujin's half-eaten meal. It seemed generous, but really, he was looking down on Mujin as an inferior.
'This guy's got a knack for getting under my skin.'
Mujin saw through Zhuge Gun's intentions but held back for his son's sake.
Be grateful.
'Hmph, you worm!'
While Zhuge Gun seemed ready to let it drop, Zhuge Muk wasn't thrilled about Taejin sitting next to Huangbo Se-ryeong. The punk had no business leeching onto the Huangbo Clan.
"Guess the Little Dragon Tournament's turned into a free-for-all for every Tom, Dick, and Harry now."
Zhuge Muk muttered just loud enough to be heard, his eyes glued to Taejin. It was obvious: losers like you are ruining the tournament.
The intent was crystal clear.
'Every damn Zhuge is slimy as hell.'
He was baiting Taejin to react—a masterstroke. Ignore it, and he'd admit to being riffraff.
"Sister Ryeong, this mapo tofu is delicious. Here, try some."
"I can serve myself."
Bark all you want—what're you gonna do about it?
To repeat: Taejin wasn't clueless, even if he misread cues. Zhuge Muk's gaze lingered on Se-ryeong. Dad said no starting trouble, not to back down. So he put on a blatant display of affection, making it clear where they stood.
Tremble!
Sister Ryeong!
You don't drop "sister" like that unless you're close.
Flames sparked in Zhuge Muk's eyes, like a heartbroken lover robbed of his beloved. He knew the punk was deliberately provoking him, oblivious to his own place.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"You and your old man both—zero tact."
"No need to read the room when there's nothing to read."
Taejin fired back without flinching under Zhuge Muk's glare. Glare all you want—the winner's already decided! He reveled in the smugness of the victor.
"Lady Huangbo, keep acting out like this, and you'll tarnish your clan."
"Are you saying I'm the one acting out?"
"Eyes are everywhere. Your behavior shapes your family's reputation."
"I'll handle my own behavior. Keep being rude, and we'll lodge a formal complaint at the clan level."
Huangbo Se-ryeong gave no quarter, slamming the door on Zhuge Muk's interference.
Flinch.
Zhuge Muk hesitated at the mention of clans. He hadn't expected such a hard line. He'd said it for her sake. Defending that pathetic nobody hiding behind her skirt? Infuriating.
Zhuge Muk needed his father's backup.
"Dragging clans into this? You've got some nerve."
Zhuge Gun didn't ignore his son's plea. With clans invoked, backing down wasn't an option. The Five Great Clans might seem equals, but rivalries simmered beneath.
"That's enough!"
Mujin growled low.
Zhuge Gun turned with a "what's this guy on?" look, then froze. The icy detachment in those emotionless eyes pierced his mind.
Twitch!
Zhuge Gun recoiled for a split second before scowling fiercely.
"You talking to me?"
"Who else, you deaf old fart?!"
"...?"
Everyone froze at Mujin's blunt insult. Sure, they'd started it, but mouthing off like that to a direct descendant of the Zhuge Clan in public?
"With those words, you've crossed a river of no return—remember that!"
"Shut up and follow me to the back yard."
Mujin asked the owner where the annex was and headed straight there.
Whoosh!
Left behind, Zhuge Gun's face twitched uncontrollably. It was the first humiliation of his life.
But he couldn't make a scene inside the inn. If he ran, fine—but challenging outside and causing chaos indoors would spread bad rumors.
'Don't think you'll walk away unscathed, you bastard!'
Zhuge Gun followed Mujin. If he fled now, he'd hunt him to the ends of the continent for payback.
Rumble!
The crowd surged after Mujin and Zhuge Gun.
They'd come for the Little Dragon Tournament, but an unexpected sideshow popped up. Top talents with sky-high curiosity wouldn't miss this fun matchup.
"Guy's got guts. That's the Present Music Sword of the Zhuge Clan."
"Pine Tiger Sect, was it?"
"Does that sect even exist?"
"Dunno, but he's bragging that hard—must be something to him."
"If not, it'll be hilarious."
"Pathetic."
The inn emptied out as everyone rushed downstairs, leaving the second floor quiet.
Taejin, Cheol-ho, and Huangbo Se-ryeong sighed at Zhuge Muk's smug grin from his seat.
It screamed: your dad's in deep shit now.
"Kneel and beg now, and maybe I'll put in a word with my father."
"Eat up before it gets cold."
Zhuge Gun or Pebble Gun or whatever—he wasn't stronger than Lord Huangbo. Se-ryeong had subtly assured him her father was superior.
So, no big deal.
Twitch!
His dad dragged to the slaughter, and the son just chowing down? Zhuge Muk pressed again when things didn't go as planned.
"Aren't you worried about your old man?!"
"This mapo tofu's great."
Zhuge Muk fumed at the punk's absurd bravado but held back for now. Once Dad returned, everything would change.