Chapter 161: Silent Song Hak (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 161: Silent Song Hak (1)
“Senior Brother Song Hak! Why are you letting this matter slide so easily?”
“Elder, did you not worry that something like this would happen? It is exactly as you predicted back then.”
“They say you should strike while the iron is hot. The timing is perfect. So why…?”
As Song Hak stepped outside, the elders and several Hall Masters followed close on his heels.
These were men whose opinions usually aligned with Song Hak’s. Consequently, they found his uncharacteristically lenient behavior not just puzzling, but downright offensive.
“I am weary,” Song Hak replied, paying them no mind. “Please, give me some time to think.”
While his stern expression made the other Hall Masters feel awkward, the Seventh and Ninth Elders were particularly persistent and refused to let it go.
“Elder Song Hak, the Martial Alliance has intervened directly in this matter. While it is important to show Qingcheng’s spirit, we cannot fight the entire Alliance on our own.”
“Indeed. At the very least, we must make a show of interrogating Seok Myeong. In the Jianghu, there are those who would stake their lives on reputation and face. If we leave a preventable conflict alone, we will be embroiled in exhausting trouble for a long time to come.”
“Can’t we just hand Seok Myeong over? For the sake of Qingcheng…”
Song Hak stopped in his tracks.
The Seventh Elder, who had been speaking, froze. Song Hak had glanced back, his eyes turning predatory.
“As I said.”
Song Hak’s face relaxed, but he pointedly brushed off his shoulder where the Seventh Elder’s hand had touched him.
“My mind is cluttered, and my body is weary. I intend to organize my thoughts and rest for a while.”
“...V-Very well then.”
Whoosh!
Without waiting for a reply, Song Hak turned away.
The Seventh Elder, still slightly shaken, stood with his mouth agape and shook his head.
“This… doesn’t it feel a bit strange?”
“I was thinking the same. Taoist Song Hak is acting odd today.”
“He says he’s tired, but since when has that man ever cared about such things when the affairs of Qingcheng were at stake?”
The two men looked at each other and sighed.
Normally, Song Hak would have hounded Seok Myeong like a predator cornering its prey. They had given him the perfect justification to act, yet Song Hak had responded with a flash of anger that bordered on murderous intent.
It was difficult to understand.
Was Song Hak perhaps waiting for them to push him harder? Or was he truly, deeply furious about this entire situation?
“Regardless, we have to do something about this. The expected losses are no small matter.”
“Indeed.”
The two nodded in agreement again.
For a martial sect rooted in Taoism like the Qingcheng Sect, reputation was everything. Whether one was a priest or a monk, one still had to eat to survive. Sects that originated from Taoist temples drew a significant portion of their income from voluntary donations.
Many of the Nine Great Sects accepted talented individuals from wealthy families as secular disciples, using them to expand their influence. In other words, justification and reputation were not just matters of prestige; they were directly linked to the practical operation of the temples.
As the men in charge of such affairs, the Seventh and Ninth Elders knew all too well how draining and costly a conflict with the Martial Alliance would be.
“I’ll go speak with the other elders separately.”
“I shall do the same.”
The two grumbled and hurried off to their respective tasks.
*
“Sigh.”
Song Hak returned to his private office in the True Martial Hall.
Thud. Thud.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he looked out the window, then paced back and forth across the room alone.
Hah! Hah!
Outside the window, the beautiful spring scenery of Mount Qingcheng was in full bloom. Below, he could see the First Generation Disciples and the novices—those who had not yet become Second Generation Disciples—training diligently.
“Hooo.”
Normally, it was a sight that would have filled his heart with satisfaction, but now his face was clouded with worry.
Step. Step.
After staring out for a long time, he turned his head at the sound of familiar footsteps.
“It is Seok Jun.”
A voice followed shortly after.
“...Enter.”
Creak!
Seok Jun opened the door and stepped inside. Song Hak moved away from the window and took a seat. Seok Jun placed his sword in its wooden case and sat across from him. For a moment, he couldn't find the words to begin.
“What is it?”
“Well…”
At Song Hak’s prompting, Seok Jun let out a long sigh. It looked as though he were gathering his thoughts before broaching a heavy subject.
“I have come to give you a detailed account of the incident at the Martial Demonstration Gathering.”
“Speak.”
“...?”
A flicker of confusion crossed Seok Jun’s eyes.
Thinking about it, it was a bit strange. An incident involving himself and Seok Myeong had occurred—one that would cause a massive upheaval in the Jianghu. Normally, his father would have sought him out immediately to demand an explanation, and then he would have rushed off to seize Seok Myeong.
“I told you to speak.”
“Ah, yes.”
But now, his father was acting as if he were merely listening because Seok Jun had asked to speak. Though a bit bewildered, Seok Jun shook his head and recalled the events.
“It was the very day we arrived at the Martial Alliance, just before the gathering began.”
He continued his story.
He spoke of how the opponents they were to face the next day—the First Generation Disciples of each sect—had been gathered in one place in an unnervingly crowded manner. And then, there were the two men outside who had been loudly badmouthing the Qingcheng Sect as if they had been waiting for the chance.
“No matter how I look at it, it was intentional. Their insults toward Qingcheng continued, and in the end, I could not endure it and drew my sword.”
“...”
“The Eldest Disciple arrived after that. He saw that we were injured and stepped in to help. So…”
At the end, Seok Jun spoke cautiously, watching his father’s reaction.
“It was Diancang who picked the fight, and I was the one who drew my sword first. The Eldest Disciple did not start the fight.”
“I suppose so.”
“...Pardon?”
When Seok Jun looked at him with a startled expression, Song Hak spoke as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
“Seok Myeong isn’t the type of fellow with that much backbone. If he sees a fight brewing, he’s the type to avoid it first.”
“That is not true, Father!”
Seok Jun reacted reflexively.
“The Eldest Disciple is not a man who avoids a fight. If he were, he wouldn't have gone so far as to kill the rising star of the Diancang Sect. If there was a problem…”
This time, a strange light flickered in Song Hak’s eyes. He saw Seok Jun’s fists clenched on his knees, his teeth gritted.
“It was… it was my fault. I was strangely irritable and sensitive… and before I knew it, I had drawn my sword.”
He spoke with difficulty, but unlike before, he was clearly facing and admitting his own mistake. Song Hak scanned his son with a cold gaze and nodded.
“A Heart Demon.”
“A Heart Demon…?”
“The Latent Form Divine Art… no, any secret technique that rapidly increases one’s martial prowess has side effects. When one suddenly gains great power, one feels the urge to test it. Simply put, one becomes bellicose.”
“Then, in the end, it was my fault…”
“No. The Sect Leader was already aware of your condition. It is not your fault. And do you think that among those attending the Martial Demonstration Gathering, there were none who possessed a minor Heart Demon like yours?”
Slide.
Song Hak rose from his seat and walked toward the window. As he looked down, his gaze suddenly landed on ‘that fellow.’
“Father. That is why I am saying this.”
Seok Jun, still seated, continued.
“If people from the Alliance come because of this incident, please speak up for him. I was the one who drew the sword, and if someone must take responsibility, I will—”
“Shut your mouth! You arrogant brat!”
Slam!
At his son’s words, Song Hak struck the window frame. A wave of anger, nearly indistinguishable from murderous intent, erupted from him.
“By what means would you do that? Do you think you are someone who represents Qingcheng?!”
“...”
Seok Jun was stunned by the sudden outburst. He realized his father had something on his mind and that he had stepped out of line, but he couldn't tell exactly how his father viewed the situation.
“Understand this clearly, Jun. You are merely First Generation Disciples. You are the ones who will lead the future of this sect. You are not its present.”
Slide.
Looking out the window and then heading for the door, Song Hak threw out one last remark.
“You are not yet qualified to take responsibility.”
Step. Step.
He vanished like the wind. Seok Jun remained in his seat for a long time, chewing over those words.
*
Hah! Hah! Hah!
The sound of spirited shouts filled the air in front of the True Martial Hall.
There were children who had been officially designated as Second Generation Disciples, and those who were still novices because they had yet to distinguish themselves. Their young, fresh eyes were fixed on Seok Myeong, who was smiling warmly.
“Please look at my thrust, Pavilion Master!”
“Pavilion Master! Is it true that you’re one of the Five Dragons of the Jianghu?”
“Hey! It’s the Six Dragons, not the Five! I told you there were already five!”
There were about ten younger children and fifteen older ones. These small, chubby-cheeked children crowded around Seok Myeong with sparkling eyes. They didn't seem to care at all about the rumors circulating in the Jianghu.
Or rather, to be precise:
“Pavilion Master, about this thrust. Is my footwork correct here?”
“Please look at my kicking technique. Yah! Yah!”
He was the only Pavilion Master among the First Generation Disciples. Rather than the long-bearded grandfathers who were the elders, they felt a vague sense of admiration for this young Qingcheng expert.
If he teaches us, we will become strong.
This belief was widespread even among the Second Generation Disciples, and because the children were in the prime of their youth, they were free from ulterior motives. They were purely interested in martial arts.
“Alright, alright. One at a time, show me what you’ve got.”
Seok Myeong sat down with a hearty laugh. He had simply come to watch the children of Qingcheng grow, but when one child’s eyes met his, the boy had come running, and things had escalated from there.
“Azure Cloud Pavilion Master! Thank you for last time! I’ve been doing what you taught me, and my footwork is so much faster!”
“Huh? The Azure Cloud Pavilion Master?”
“It’s the Pavilion Master!”
Chatter, chatter. Swarm, swarm.
There were children whose bones and muscles were still soft because they were young, and others who had grown tall due to a sudden growth spurt.
“Let’s see… for you, focus on your footwork first.”
Seok Myeong watched each child’s demonstration and gave individual guidance and advice tailored to their tendencies. Just as he had always done throughout his life.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
One particularly tall boy seemed to have understood the advice well, as the sound of wind began to follow his punches. Seeing this, the other children marveled and clapped their hands.
*
“Hmm.”
And from a distance, Song Hak stood watching Seok Myeong.