Chapter 81
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Falling Flower Sword March
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Exactly twenty-one.
The full roster of the Present Heaven Unit, with no vacancies whatsoever.
They followed Seo Mun-ha without rest.
Amid the lingering sting of his previous reprimand, a solemn resolve now overlaid their shared mindset, shadowing his every footstep.
"Um Pung."
"Yes, Young Master."
Um Pung was no different.
Thud.
The troops emerged from the mountains and lined up in a long formation.
The entire Present Heaven Unit: twenty-one strong.
Adding Seo Mun-ha and Um Pung, along with Yang Jeong and Gu Chil, they formed a group that was far from insignificant in scale.
Though qualitatively and quantitatively meager as a fighting force, this particular band stood out strikingly.
There were no common markers like banners.
A young man seated at the lead was a rare sight in itself, and until now, they had never needed to mind others' eyes—they knew the roads of Shandong like the back of their hand, as if it were their own courtyard.
With Jiangnan looming ahead, change was inevitable.
"Divide the unit into two groups. From here on, they'll rotate travel every three li."
Seo Mun-ha, having split the men, issued a simple command.
"Understood."
They proceeded with utmost caution.
To the point where it almost seemed excessive, Seo Mun-ha remained utterly meticulous and detached, yet scrupulously vigilant.
"Yang Jeong, Gu Chil."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Teach the troops the Falling Flower Sword."
More detail-oriented than he appeared, he didn't squander even the slightest sliver of time.
"Not the Flowing Cloud Sword?"
Um Pung voiced the bewilderment on behalf of the two puzzled men.
It was natural to question why not the Seo Mun Clan's foundational art.
"It's a technique suited for travel. The Flowing Cloud Sword's stability goes without saying, but it's too slow in reverse. Not easy to practice on the move."
Most martial arts are honed in static environments.
However, there existed arts unbound by such constraints, and these few were classified as dynamic techniques.
"Overcome the weight and fully execute the Falling Flower Sword, and the rest will come quickly enough."
Judging the troops' stamina had improved, Seo Mun-ha personally cracked the whip.
"Deadline: arrival in Hangzhou."
For the two group leaders tasked with problem children, their mission could be read as "guidance and support" on paper, but surveillance and investigation in truth.
How much had they changed overnight? Yang Jeong and Gu Chil swallowed hard at the burden thrust upon them.
"Wh-what if we fail?"
"What happens if we don't master the Falling Flower Sword by Hangzhou?"
An ominous feeling crept in. Somehow anticipating his answer, the two exchanged glances.
No need for grand foresight—it stemmed from years of experience that bred unease.
"If you can't?"
And sure enough.
"Then Group Leader Gu and Group Leader Yang will bear the appropriate responsibility."
Seo Mun-ha, who never entertained failure, replied nonchalantly.
"Gasp!"
The two stared in stunned dismay.
Seo Mun-ha, tightening their noose, didn't forget to leave an escape hatch.
"Lest it seem unfair..."
Of course, the ideal was for all to master it, but moderate competition and cooperation drove progress, as the current orthodox martial world amply proved.
"We'll judge the two groups' performance and punish only the losing side."
Yang Jeong and Gu Chil exchanged silent glances once more at his declaration.
"......"
"......"
What now replaced their prior doubt was mutual distrust.
—You throw the match a bit. Even cold water has a top and bottom.
—Sorry, Brother Gu. I need to survive first.
Seeing no compromise ahead, they envisioned the same fate for each other, merely swapping roles, and inwardly wished one another good fortune.
'Hm?'
Seo Mun-ha, leaving them behind, suddenly turned his head.
Whoosh.
Following the hair tickling his skin.
"......Is something wrong?"
Um Pung followed his gaze, but saw only dense foliage everywhere.
"Nothing."
Seo Mun-ha quickly dismissed it.
Gazing precisely at the mountainside halfway up the steep cliffs in the distance, he resumed the long march.
A treacherous terrain where people rarely ventured.
In a spot with barely room to set foot, an old man in rags tread delicately on thin branches.
How precarious it looked to an outsider's eye.
Yet the old man swaying in the wind turned his head with composure.
The higher up, the finer the view.
The expansive vista beneath the azure sky preserved the pristine beauty of untouched nature.
The only blemish of human grime was the beggar's sackcloth draped over the old man, who cared nothing for such elegance as he stood at the cliff's edge, taking in the lay of the land at a glance.
"What."
He let out a grunt, his upright frame swaying violently.
This, too, was due not to nature, but to man.
Was the sensation of locked eyes mere illusion?
'He noticed me?'
From the thick underbrush, watching the group—he swore that impassive gaze had fixed on him.
'From this distance?'
He had never revealed his presence.
Even if he had, it wasn't a distance anyone could detect.
A mere speck between them.
The old man's eyesight, spotting the foe, was astounding, but hardly surprising if expected.
Iron Dog Beggar, Hyeong Gon.
One of the Beggar Clan’s Eight Great Elders, a man even the Clan Lord treated with respect.
"Unbelievable..."
An unexpected weariness seeped into his gravelly voice.
For a mere youth in his twenties to match his own perception—it was absurd.
Pondering life's vanities out of nowhere, he shook his head.
'At least he's reached the Four Boundaries realm.'
A level others devoted lifetimes to, born of indescribable toil and innate talent.
Unable to hide his bitterness, he dismissed the thought.
"The world's gone mad."
It was the other side that was abnormal.
"Isn't it?"
Hyeong Gon leaped down, seeking agreement.
"Hah... hah..."
From a Beggar Clan disciple gasping for breath.
"Y-yes?"
The man gulped and barely managed a reply.
"What do you mean by that..."
He was none other than Woo Hak-bong.
"Master?"
Woo Hak-bong, who could face the heavens without shame.
'Whew.'
Thick-skinned as ever, he regulated his ragged breaths and shrugged with his raw face for once.
"A monster like that strolling bold as brass in broad daylight. Either the world's mad, I'm mad, or that kid's mad."
"Calling a perfectly sane world mad—it's driving me mad."
"You brat. How many steps was that? Quit your whining."
"Whining? Can't you see your one and only disciple dying here?"
"Disciple? Never took on anyone that feeble."
Woo Hak-bong sighed deeply at Hyeong Gon's feigned ignorance.
"Chasing a determined master is something even the Clan Lord gave up on."
"Is that so? Then since you're chasing anyway, aim for next Clan Lord while you're at it."
"Again with that."
Though master and disciple were thick as thieves, the master's stubborn recklessness outdid even the disciple's.
"I'm not doing Clan Lord."
Woo Hak-bong flatly refused once more, face set.
"Tch."
Hyeong Gon smacked his lips regretfully.
"Thought wrangling disciples again had sparked some ambition."
It wasn't inability, but refusal.
Seeing one so qualified and capable, Hyeong Gon couldn't help his pity.
Whose stubbornness did he inherit?
Truly beggar-like in laziness above all, he had always shunned the Clan Lord position and duties.
"Anyway, if not for Clan Lord, it must be that kid down there."
"Were you looking for him?"
"Saw him clear enough. That pale, sickly-looking kid you described, right?"
"Probably..."
Seo Mun-ha, who had dispatched the world's Woo Hak-bong as messenger.
"What do you make of him, Master?"
Rumors aside, it was exceedingly rare for a slacker disciple to praise someone till his mouth wore out.
"Hm."
Strictly speaking, no precedent like Seo Mun-ha existed.
Only a few among the Nine Dragons and Seven Phoenixes had ever turned glib tongues serious.
"You misjudged him."
The master couldn't help anticipating.
And the real Seo Mun-ha exceeded even the lavish praise.
"Pardon?"
Indirectly, at least.
"No, from your view, you saw true."
Arms crossed, Hyeong Gon recalled Seo Mun-ha's vast perceptual sense.
A gaze that chilled to the bone.
What lay in that placid gleam—imagining it alone sent sweat down his spine.
"Well, dragging this old bag along was worth it."
Woo Hak-bong's eyes widened in shock.
He'd half-expected it, but this was outright rave review.
Had his praise-stingy master ever lauded anyone so?
Hyeong Gon buried countless virtues under his filthy garb as flaws, so Woo Hak-bong's surprise was natural.
"Let's head back."
"Back? Where to?"
"Where else? Henan, obviously."
Specifically, Kaifeng in Henan, stronghold of the hundred thousand Beggar Clan members.
"Why my home branch all of a sudden..."
"Why? Didn't you beg for guidance out of the blue? Won't be as easy as your lucky streak of eating and lounging."
Hyeong Gon, strolling lightly, added as Woo Hak-bong's presence faded behind.
"That kid—smart or stupid, I can't tell."
He clicked his tongue at the disciple standing stock-still, displeased.
"No need to worry about him."
"I know that."
"Don't get cold feet now. Think surviving one technique from the Mad Demon or Venomous Bee King is easy?"
"Well, no."
"Practically no later-generation talent can threaten that kid. At best, that one from the Nangong Clan?"
Even broadening the field, countable on fingers.
By estimate, among the world's top hundred masters, he'd rank in the upper half.
In other words, top-tier among the elite.
"Hangzhou's beyond our eyes anyway. You going won't help much."
Stating facts bluntly, Hyeong Gon prodded harshly.
"Just another corpse to clean up."
Woo Hak-bong wore a wounded expression, but it fell on deaf ears, naturally.
To be precise, the Beggar Clan's eyes didn't entirely miss Hangzhou.
Not devoid of beggars in paradise on earth.
But in Zhejiang Province, mingling orthodox and unorthodox, influence was limited; Hangzhou, its capital, drew vigilant watch from the Great Ming court and officials.
"Quit yapping and follow."
Hyeong Gon and Woo Hak-bong descended the rugged slope.
Tsk.
Woo Hak-bong secretly smacked his lips.
He'd hoped to grease his belly in this scenic spot for once.
He knew it'd be tough, but hadn't figured even Iron Dog Beggar's prowess couldn't pierce Hangzhou's current web.
'Guess he’ll handle it fine on his own.'
Scratching his head, the young beggar set to his task.
"Mind swinging by Shandong before Henan?"
"Shandong?"
"We went to such trouble finding him. Plenty waiting on news of that rogue. Enough for a free meal."
"You rascal..."
The young and old beggars stayed true to form.
"Prime goods, all of 'em. I guarantee."
"Should've led with that! Let's go!"