Chapter 37: Golden Martial Association (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 37: Golden Martial Association (1)
"This is where you'll be staying."
Cheol So-yeon spoke as she led Seok Myeong and Hyeok-jin into a fairly large, square guest room.
Perhaps it was because of the display they had put on inside the carriage, but while her informal speech remained, her actions were now tinged with an indefinable sense of caution.
"Wait, Young Miss..."
When Seok Myeong called out to her awkwardly, Cheol So-yeon turned to face him.
"What?"
"Do you happen to have a whetstone?"
"..."
"I need to sharpen my sword."
At Seok Myeong's request, Cheol So-yeon furrowed her brows. She glanced at the sword hanging from his waist and let out a short, mocking laugh.
"Just like a stubborn horse-nosed Taoist. Just wait. I'll have someone send one up later."
After her blunt reply, she turned and walked out.
Thud!
As the door slammed shut, Seok Myeong scratched his head.
"This is going to be a headache."
Unlike Seok Myeong, Hyeok-jin was staring blankly at a single spot in silence. His eyes looked almost as if he had lost his soul, prompting Seok Myeong to give him a light pat on the shoulder.
"There's no need to be so disheartened. You had your own reasons back then."
Hyeok-jin shook his head.
"Even so, I was too ignorant. I acted recklessly without even knowing what kind of person my Master was."
His pupils trembled violently. He seemed pained, haunted by the memory of how harshly he had treated his Master until the very end.
Seok Myeong gripped his shoulder firmly. "Though I didn't know your Master for long, his intentions were always consistent. He only wished for you to believe in your own path and move forward with confidence. Even now, I'm sure those feelings haven't changed."
"Brother Seok Myeong..."
"Failing to realize something is not shameful. What is truly shameful is knowing the truth and failing to act upon it. Now that you know, you will surely act, won't you?"
Hyeok-jin nodded.
Until now, he hadn't acted because he didn't believe it was the right path. But now, it had been proven that the path was correct. His Master had endured that humiliation and arranged this path solely for his sake.
"I will change, starting now," Hyeok-jin vowed.
He would never lose faith in his Master again. Even if he achieved nothing, even if he failed to reach enlightenment for the rest of his life, he would silently forge ahead.
"But Brother Seok Myeong."
"What is it?"
"Why did they bring us here? Can we really leave just by having you duel that man named Cheol Gun?"
"I wonder."
"Could they be planning to kill us...?"
"I doubt it. If they had such intentions, we wouldn't even be sitting here talking. In my opinion..." Seok Myeong smiled at Hyeok-jin. "It seems they want to achieve something through me."
"What could that be?"
"I don't know that either. However," Seok Myeong’s smile didn't fade, "I'm certain it won't be too harmful. So, let's try to think positively."
*
"Have you heard?"
In a room decorated with orchids whose leaves stretched out sharply, as if they could cut through cloth, a man rushed in and prostrated himself.
The person he addressed was a middle-aged man painting an orchid on a large sheet of paper: Cheol Jung.
Cheol Jung was the practical owner of the Golden Martial Association. If Cheol Mu-jin was the figurehead representing the association, the actual leader was this man. As the head of the association, he not only wielded immense influence in the region but also maintained connections ranging from local power players to the Imperial Court. By mobilizing those connections, he had built a power base that was in no way inferior to the Nine Great Sects or the Five Great Families.
Screech.
At the subordinate's sudden intrusion, Cheol Jung's brush wavered, and the leaf of the orchid he was painting split.
"I-I am sorry!" The man flinched, confessing his mistake immediately.
In his haste, he had done the one thing Cheol Jung hated most. At the very least, he should not have disturbed him while he was painting. However, despite the apology, Cheol Jung did not react.
Swish, swish.
Tap.
After a moment, Cheol Jung set down his brush and lifted his head. At a glance, he did not have a particularly large frame. His shoulders were narrow and his complexion was poor, but his gaze alone was more intense than anything else.
"Has a war broken out somewhere?"
"No, sir."
"Then is the situation so urgent that an enemy's blade is about to reach this room?"
"N-no, sir."
"If it's neither of those... why couldn't you endure that short amount of time?"
The man bowed his head, trembling with fear. He knew Cheol Jung was furious. His fate would be decided by his next words; at the very least, he had to be prepared to be thrown into the Thunder Prison.
As expected, a warning followed.
"Speak. If I find the news isn't worth the interruption, I won't let this pass lightly."
Having prepared himself, the man cautiously opened his mouth. "The Great Lord has arrived."
"I heard that."
"Have you also heard that there are guests with him?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who they are?"
"..."
Only then did Cheol Jung's anger subside slightly, replaced by a flicker of curiosity.
The man continued, "They are two young men. One of them is said to be the disciple of the Flash Divine Sword, Baek Yang-cheon."
"The same Baek Yang-cheon who mastered the Heavenly White Divine Art?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Hmm."
Cheol Jung's eyebrows twitched slightly. However, his anger didn't vanish completely. He was interested, but only for a moment; his expression suggested he found it hard to be impressed beyond that. Baek Yang-cheon was once evaluated as one of the Ten Great Masters of the world, but that was twenty years ago. He was no longer active, and since the rankings of the Jianghu changed by the day, his name no longer carried much weight.
"And I heard the other young man is a Taoist from the Qingcheng Sect."
"What?"
This time was different. Cheol Jung's eyes widened.
A Taoist—and not just any Taoist, but one belonging to the Nine Great Sects. This was a serious matter.
"Are you certain?"
"I am."
"Why would...?"
"The thing is," the man continued, "it is said that the Great Lord and that Taoist had a duel at a nearby inn this morning."
"What? My father dueled a Qingcheng Taoist? Why?"
"I haven't been able to look into the details due to the lack of time, but word is they got involved in a fight between the Meteor Sect and the Gyeongmun Association."
"So, what happened?"
"The Great Lord yielded three moves, and though the Qingcheng Taoist swung his sword at him, he couldn't inflict any damage. Afterward, the Taoist admitted defeat, and the Great Lord brought him here as the price for that defeat. This is the extent of the investigation by the Snow Pavilion."
"Haha... how could this be."
Cheol Jung could not hide his astonishment. This was the Golden Martial Association, of all places. To think a member of the Orthodox Faction would dare crawl into this place, which was steeped in a solemn, unspoken code.
"What on earth is the reason? Why would Father bring such Orthodox trash here?"
"I am not sure about that."
"You should have found that out!" Cheol Jung stood up abruptly.
The subordinate stood with him. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to see my father."
"You cannot go right now."
"Why!"
"The Great Lord has issued an order to bring the Young Lord."
"Cheol Gun?"
"Yes."
The middle-aged man hesitated. Why had his father ordered Cheol Gun to be brought instead of him?
"Could it be that Father's intention in bringing that fellow is..." Cheol Jung's eyes flickered with an unreadable light.
The subordinate nodded. "I suspect the same."
*
"Don't be like this, Young Lord."
"Giggle!"
By a tranquil lake, the laughter of women echoed endlessly from inside a pavilion. A dissolute young man sat there, laughing while surrounded by six women.
"Why not? Don't you all like it too?"
"Young Lord, you're being too much. It's only early evening."
"Whether it's early evening or the middle of the night, as long as it's dark around us, what's the problem? And it's not like you'll wear out from being touched, so why are you acting so shy?"
Though seven people were entangled inside the pavilion, the owner of the voice was easy to spot due to his slender build and long hair.
He was the Beautiful Young Master, the Mi Gongja.
Not only were his features exceptionally handsome, but even the look in his eyes was captivating. His voice possessed a manly spirit, making him a rare sight even if one searched the entire Central Plains. Perhaps that was why the women didn't truly dislike his shameless behavior; some were even quite proactive.
"Young Lord, which one of us do you like the most?" a woman asked, leaning in. Her chest covering looked like it might slip off at any moment. Though a white cloth covered her body, it was so thin her skin was visible through it.
"A hero is fond of beauties. I like all of you."
"Oh my, aren't you being too much?"
"Too much? I'm planning to make you all my wives."
"Are you serious?"
"Of course. What does it matter how many there are? Hahaha!"
He laughed joyfully, his face full of happiness as if he possessed the whole world.
Then, a woman in the back spoke up. "But Young Lord, it seems you haven't been practicing your martial arts at all lately."
"What are you talking about? It's been ages since I quit practicing."
"Why? You said your martial arts were unrivaled, didn't you?"
"That's the problem. I have no rivals. There is no one in the Central Plains who can match me."
To anyone else, these would be incredibly arrogant words, but he spoke them without a hint of hesitation.
"Really?"
"Of course! I already mastered everything I needed two years ago."
"As expected, you're amazing."
The laughter of the young man and the women rang through the garden.
Swish.
Suddenly, the expression of the young man, who had been laughing leisurely, changed. He had sensed something. As expected, a man flew in from the shadows and landed in front of him.
"I believe I told you not to come here no matter what happened."
"I believe you must go urgently."
"Do my words mean nothing to you?"
"The Great Lord is calling for you."
"What?"
The young man, who had been full of leisure until a moment ago, stood up abruptly. His eyes went wide with surprise.
"I understand."
But then, as if he still had some lingering attachment, he threw a word to the man in the darkness and lay back down, crawling back toward the woman in front of him.
"Oh, Young Lord!"
As the woman let out a soft moan, the young man spoke. "Tell him I'll be there in a little while."
"He said to come immediately."
"Just tell him that."
The young man seemed to have no intention of leaving. However, judging by the messenger's next words, this wasn't the first time such a thing had happened.
"He said if you do not come right this instant, he will never see you again."
"What?"
The young man stood up again. For someone who lived such a carefree life, this was a shocking statement.
"Was he very angry?"
"It didn't seem so."
"Then why did he suddenly say such a thing?"
When the messenger offered no answer, the young man let out a heavy sigh.
"Ugh... this is going to be a pain."
He lamented as he stood up once more. The women all looked at him at once, but he waved his hand dismissively.
"Wait for me. I'll come back and dote on you all later."
Leaving his regrets behind, the young man spoke to the kneeling subordinate. "Where is he?"
"He is at his residence."
"Is he alone?"
"Yes."
"Understood."
As soon as he finished speaking, he leaped. The gazes of those around him turned upward, but none could track his movement. He had vanished completely from their sight in an instant.