Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Regression
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"Hyeonseong-ah. Hurry up and apologize to your senior brother, okay?"
Her brown hair cascaded down to her waist. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, framed by long, delicately curled eyelashes.
"What is this... why is Junior Sister here...?"
A spell? Or perhaps some kind of mental illusion from a demon fox.
'But that wench died over ten years ago.'
I still remembered that great yokai I'd killed. I'd yanked out a few of her nine tails, used them to bind her limbs, and dragged her around until she croaked.
Hunting yokai had been one of the few entertainments in that ruined world.
The Heavenly Demon and I weren't all that different in terms of humanity anyway, so after the Crimson Flower Divine Sword and the Fiery Beggar Hero—who were always nagging me with their holier-than-thou advice—kicked the bucket, I indulged without a care. It was those fools who were weird for complaining about me killing a few man-eating yokai.
'No, that's not the point.'
I thought it through slowly, logically, step by step.
According to my last memory, there had been a hole punched right through where my dantian and heart should have been, and I'd been on the verge of death. I'd even closed my eyes as the end rushed in.
So, I was probably dead.
And the Junior Sister in front of me had definitely died thirty years ago.
Which meant this place, where the definitely dead me and the certainly dead Junior Sister were together...
'No way... the afterlife? Hell or the Immortal Realm...?'
But this couldn't be the Immortal Realm. I'd been a wastrel who'd bolted from the Wudang Sect at twenty, fed up with all that training nonsense, and I couldn't recall ever doing anything remotely worthy of a Daoist after that.
'Not the Immortal Realm. Then hell?'
But it couldn't be hell either. I'd long since steeled myself for it, sure—but Junior Sister was the one person who'd enveloped even a monster like me in love.
She didn't belong anywhere near a place like that, not even her toe.
If this really was hell, I was seriously considering ripping apart that Yama King who ruled the underworld. I'd slain celestial gods before; what was some underground deity to me?
"Hyeonseong! Didn't you hear your Junior Sister?!"
The vicious thoughts filling my head were shattered by Junior Sister's angry voice.
I whipped around in surprise to see her furrowing her brows with all her might. Through her slightly narrowed eyes, hazy gray irises gleamed.
Junior Sister opening her eyes wide like that was proof she was seriously pissed. Or at least, that she wanted to show she was.
"Let go of Senior Brother!"
"Yes, ma'am."
And when an angry Junior Sister spoke, you obeyed. That was the law of the sect.
I relaxed my grip, and the senior brother dangling from my right hand flopped to the ground like a dead fish.
"Guh... ugh..."
Writhing on the dirt like a worm, he couldn't even scream—just leaked out pained groans. Not really my problem.
A few guys who'd been whispering and eyeing us from a distance started creeping closer.
One of them, mustering his courage, barked an order at another.
"Take Hyeon-gyu to the Medical Hall. Hurry!"
"Yes, sir!"
"And you, Hyeonseong, you bastard—this time you won't get off lightly! Beating your senior brother like this is no less than a capital offense, a violation of the sect's code! I'll report this straight to the Sect Leader and see you punished. Until the verdict comes down, get back to your quarters and reflect on your actions!"
The guy pointing at me with trembling fingers and yelling his head off was another senior brother of mine. Same generation as me, so his Dao name probably started with Hyeon-something, but I couldn't quite recall.
"I'm sorry, we're so sorry. Senior Brother. I'll talk to him properly..."
"Enough! Even if you cover for him, Hyeon-ye, it doesn't erase Hyeonseong's crimes! Step back!"
And just like that, with Junior Sister dragging me by the arm, I shuffled off in a daze.
The sacred mountain of Central Plains Daoism in Hubei Province: Wudang Mountain.
Among its seventy-two majestic peaks, the tallest was Heavenly Pillar Peak.
True to its name—Pillar of Heaven—a towering palace named Hyunhyeon Palace after the founding master Jang Sam-bong stood at its summit. It was where the Wudang Sect Leader resided, conferring with the elders to decide the sect's major and minor affairs.
And today's elder meeting agenda concerned Wudang's first-generation disciple, Hyeonseong.
A hulking brute of a man, like a bandit, with fierce tigerish eyes, thick bushy brows, and a massive scar slashing across his face, spoke up.
"Hyeonseong beat someone again?"
"If it were just anyone, that'd be one thing. But it was another senior brother. Again!"
Discipline Hall Master Mujin exploded at Sect Leader Mugwang's words, nearly knocking his Daoist cap clean off.
The reason Mujin, who oversaw the sect's rules and meted out rewards and punishments, was grinding his teeth like this...
Was because Hyeon-gyu, who'd been beaten to within an inch of his life by Hyeonseong, was a disciple of the Discipline Hall—that is, Mujin's own student.
Mujin's outburst stirred a murmur among the elders.
"How many times is this now? I get it if he's touching my nephew under the guise of 'training,' but for Hyeonseong—the baby of the first-generation disciples—to privately rough up a senior fifteen years his senior? We can't just sit by, Sect Leader Brother!"
"Ahem. Indeed... as Brother Mujin says, our Scripture Storage Pavilion's Hyeon-jung and Hyeon-jong have come back from run-ins with Hyeonseong too. How about we make him annotate every manual in the Scripture Pavilion as punishment?"
"Hah. Primordial Heavenly Venerable."
The Sect Leader Mugwang, seated at the head, lightly tapped the table with an infuser of internal energy, and the elders fell silent. The table they'd all been propping up shattered to splinters in an instant.
"Any elders with more to say, raise your hand."
"May I speak, Sect Leader Brother?"
A mild-mannered middle-aged man raised his hand gracefully. Mugwang nodded, and the man stood, surveying the room.
"First... allow me to offer my deepest apologies to my senior brothers on this occasion. This is all my fault for failing to properly educate my disciple."
With a courteous bow and clasped hands, the man was Muryul, the youngest of the Mu-generation elders, one of the Wudang Nine Swords, the Windflow Sword Knight.
His mastery of Cloud Stepping Steps and the pinnacle of Preservation Nerve techniques made him unmatched among the elders, earning him the moniker Wudang's Number One Speed.
That was why a fifteen-year-old Hyeonseong was lumped in with the first-generation disciples, whose average age easily topped thirty.
As the master of Heavenly Communication Pavilion—with only three members, including himself—he'd raised Hyeonseong and Hyeon-ye from childhood and taught them their martial arts.
"However... if I may be so bold, I believe Hyeonseong has his own grievances in this matter."
"What?!"
Mujin shot to his feet, hiking up his wide Daoist sleeve to bare his ripped forearm, but Mugwang unleashed a wave of aura born from his internal energy. Listen quietly.
His Mu-generation brothers pulled him back, and Mujin grudgingly sat, arms crossed, glaring daggers at his junior.
"From what I've heard, Hyeonseong didn't just snap and beat his senior brother out of nowhere—he had some reason and challenged Hyeon-gyu to a formal one-on-one spar. When disputes like this arise, it's hard to discern truth from fiction by hearing just one side. Especially now that Hyeon-gyu, the main party involved, is laid up in the Medical Hall. Judging right and wrong based solely on witnesses will be even trickier."
Muryul paused, wearing a disarming smile that wasn't figurative at all—the kind that made the housewives of the village at the foot of Wudang Mountain in Hubei swoon with instant fondness just from seeing it.
Of course, it didn't work on his senior brother of decades, Mujin, who kept glaring at him with burning eyes.
But Muryul's gaze wasn't on the fuming Mujin—it was on the final arbiter, Sect Leader Mugwang.
"So, I humbly request of the Sect Leader: why not hold off on judgment until Hyeon-gyu wakes?"
"So be it."
"Senior Brother!"
Mujin protested vehemently, but Mugwang, chin propped leisurely, muttered indifferently.
"Injuries are just a natural outcome of sparring. All this fussing is unbecoming. Hyeonseong gets stuck chopping firewood for a fortnight—the third-generation disciples' duty. Elders, no more discussion on this."
Mujin ranted that a month in the punishment chamber was the least he deserved—what kind of firewood chopping was this?—but Mugwang, with the speed of a supreme expert, struck his pressure point and knocked him out cold.
And so, Hyeonseong's official thirteenth capital offense faded into the usual ambiguity.
It was the handiwork of Muryul, sly as a fox from his worldly dealings compared to his mountain-bound, Dao-obsessed senior Mujin, and Mugwang, who doted on Hyeonseong's talent.
'Haha, that rascal Hyeonseong. I told him to ease up on roughhousing with his seniors... Well, as long as no one got seriously hurt, it's fine. Still, time for a good scolding this time.'
Muryul returned to the quarters with light, graceful Cloud Stepping Steps, a pleased smile on his face. He pushed open the door to his hermitage.
"Please accept this unfilial disciple's bows, Master!"
"What in the...?"
Muryul was greeted by his disciple slamming his forehead into the ground repeatedly, tears streaming down his face.