50 Ways to Enchant Old Monsters (1)
“Why are you here, Young Master?”
Ilhyang jumped in surprise while feeding porridge to the one-armed old man. He snatched the spoonful hovering right in front of his mouth.
'Well, well? Jackpot.'
“Don't just stand out there—come sit here.”
“Did you come because you were worried about us?”
Ihyang pointed to the empty seat beside her. Samhyang quickly cleared some space.
I shot the old man a glance before sitting down to figure out what the hell was going on.
That's when I locked eyes not just with the one-armed geezer, but with the branch-trimming one too.
The two old codgers coughed awkwardly and scratched their heads.
“Ahem.”
“Ahem.”
I got the picture pretty quick. Turning to them, I said,
“You two managed to crawl back alive, huh?”
“Sounds like you were hoping we'd kick the bucket.”
“Weren't you off to die?”
“Heh heh, can't argue with that. We got lucky.”
The three maids looked baffled as the old men and I chatted like it was no big deal.
“Uh……”
They didn't dare butt in. But their faces all said the same thing loud and clear:
Wait, you know these guys?
I handed the healing pills I'd brought to the maids and shot another look at the geezers.
“Our house doesn't let people off the hook just 'cause they got lucky, though.”
The maids were still staring at me like I'd grown a second head. Normally, I'd have cleared up their confusion right away, but right now, my questions came first.
This whole scene was straight-up shocking.
They didn't look busted up anywhere—no broken bones, no missing limbs. Sure, they were lying in bed, but nothing seemed seriously wrong.
“Was there some old fart living in our pavilion?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe he showed up while we were out?”
'Aigoo, sisters, that's not the house he means.'
The maids clearly had no clue he was talking about the patriarch. I gave them a long look, then jerked my thumb toward the door.
“Sisters, step outside for a bit. I gotta talk with these stubborn old coots who won't listen.”
“Knew it. We must be in the way.”
“It's 'cause you wouldn't shut up, Ilhyang.”
“Pinning it on me?”
“You were the one who asked first, Ihyang!”
“You. Girls.”
I called them out, one syllable at a time, then said flat-out,
“Out.”
The maids slunk away, looking deflated. This wasn't why I'd come here……
But everything I'd done was for their sake. I hadn't expected these old timers waiting around.
They were tied to my father, one way or another. Even if I didn't care, the maids could get dragged into danger if they found out.
That's why I played it tough.
Still, how the hell did these geezers know the maids?
That's when the two old men spoke up.
“Nice to watch.”
“I can feel the warmth in how you treat them.”
“Cut the crap and spill it.”
“Spill what?”
“Old age frying your brains already?”
Playing dumb, huh? Let's see how long they keep it up.
“Lemme think. You were gonna meet the Shaolin abbot…… oh, and the Wudang sect leader too, right? Ah, yeah—that's tomorrow.”
Their pupils dilated for a split second before snapping back. I wasn't gonna miss that.
'Knew it.'
One practiced Shaolin arts, the other Wudang. No idea how, but them being here instead of their sects meant they hadn't learned legit.
Probably snuck it. Then hid out in Namgung Sega to dodge their sects.
“Guess I'll have to tell 'em tomorrow there's a couple rats hiding in Namgung Sega.”
'C-C-Can't let the disciple find out!'
Ilseon Dosa shot to his feet.
'If the junior finds out, I'm screwed!'
Mujikja bolted up too.
“You two look fine to me, lying in bed like that. Wait, did you hurt your mouths? Why so quiet? Guess I'll have to ask the Shaolin abbot.”
“Everything!”
Ilseon Dosa bellowed. I furrowed my brow a bit, and he clamped his mouth shut, muttering a quiet chant like the monk he used to be.
“Amitabha.”
“Now, where'd that branch-trimming Wudang guy go?”
Mujikja jumped in quick.
“Little hero! Don't rush—hear me out. I'll tell you everything.”
“I'm not into Taoism, though?”
“Right, my mistake. Not little hero—young warrior. Haha!”
Mujikja wiped cold sweat from his brow.
They'd both been chased out of their sects for some unspeakable reason. If their sects found out they were here, disciples and juniors would come running.
Still, getting chewed out by his junior beat the hell out of Ilseon Dosa's dread of his disciple. The guy's eyes were twitching nonstop.
Clack clack clack clack.
His teeth were chattering like crazy—guy probably didn't even notice.
Mujikja snuck a glance at him.
If those teeth chipped…… serves him right?
His robes were soaked from all the sweat. What the hell did he do to leave Shaolin in such a panic? Smash the disciplinary hall?
Nah, that was me—ground my master's wooden pass to dust and got an earful from my senior brother……
Wonder if he made a new one by now.
Mujikja spoke up instead.
“So, what do you wanna know about us?”
“Why you're here. From start to finish.”
“And if we don't wanna say?”
“You'll meet the Shaolin abbot and Wudang sect leader—not me—right here. Starting tomorrow.”
“Infinite Blessings.”
Mujikja murmured a Taoist incantation.
'Shoulda just left.'
They'd planned to bail after dueling Namgung Hancheol, no regrets. They'd finally shaken off the chains of memory that bound them for over a decade.
Nothing left to chase, nothing to want. They'd lived long enough, done enough.
Planned to build a hut by some remote spring, live quiet, and go out peacefully……
But one regret kept them here.
They owed a debt. Plus that favor from the vice strategist.
And above all……
'I wanted to see what future that kid would carve out.'
“You've got half an incense stick. Keep your mouths shut after, and it's off to Shaolin and Wudang.”
Never dreamed the kid had such a sassy streak.
'I sensed such pure energy!'
Mujikja had smelled the Taoist fragrance from his late master on the boy—the same scent said to emanate from the Wudang founder himself.
But he didn't know why: the kid had mastered Wudang arts that'd slap his own skills silly.
'Maybe……'
The boy might topple the monster he'd long given up on.
“Nice weather, huh? Perfect for heading home.”
Taoist fragrance my ass…… pure energy bullshit……
“Y-You know we're from Wudang and Shaolin, right?”
Mujikja squeezed his eyes shut and spoke.
I swallowed a smirk and said,
“Obviously. I got the whole Namgung roster in my head.”
Total bullshit, of course. And I didn't know the Shaolin abbot or Wudang leader from Adam.
'How the hell would I recognize big shots I've never met?'
I'd probably walk right past 'em. Wait—no, maybe now I could spot 'em.
Anyway, I'd just guessed. The half-crazed one confessed to being a monk yesterday, and this geezer reeked of Wudang arts.
They hadn't seemed like bad guys from the start. Close enough for the maids to nurse 'em.
Better safe than sorry if they were villains.
“We'll tell you everything. Planned to anyway—just you. Might be a long story, though. Cool?”
“Fine by me. Got time.”
“Alright.”
Mujikja straightened up, face serious, and continued.
“So, when I was real young—like your age—there was this pretty girl in our village named Hyunhwa. My first love. Spent days psyching myself up, confessed…… got shot down hard. After that, hated the world. That's when I met my master.”
“Uh, gramps?”
“What? Just getting started.”
“Isn't that ancient history?”
“Fair. I ain't great with words—bear with me. Anyway, by twenty……”
“Hold up!”
“What now?! I skipped ten years!”
“How old's the story?”
“I'm about ninety, so…… up to ninety.”
“When'd you first meet my dad?”
“Around the start of the Great War between Righteousness and Evil—sixtyish?”
“Start there, then.”
“Skipping forty years cold like that……”
“It's fine. Don't care about before.”
“You'll regret missing it?”
'This geezer……'
Was he always this chatty? Pre-regression, I'd seen the branch-trimmer a few times—he was always focused, silent.
Mujikja could've been sect leader after his senior, but his restless ass turned it down. Then lost to Namgung Hancheol, smashed the ancestral hall in a double whammy(?), dumped it all on his senior, and bailed.
I cut him off clean.
“Not curious at all.”
“Ugh…… fine. Not thrilled, but Great War it is. No whining later.”
I nodded eagerly.
“Sure, sure.”
A bit later.
“So, long story short: you challenged my dad way back, got your ass handed to you, stirred some shit at Wudang, got caught by a higher-up, and booted. That it?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
No biggie so far. They'd dueled my dad on a whim, couldn't forget the loss, stuck around Namgung……
The real issue was elsewhere.
I'd learned something new from his tale.
“You're not the only ones?”
“Nah. Including us and this guy, you could count challengers to the Martial God on one hand.”
All losers, same story.
“Correction, then. Not just Dad—plenty challenged other Namgung folks, lost, and stayed?”
“Yep.”
“About fifty of 'em.”
“Right.”
“And those guys!”
I jabbed at the two in front of me.
“Wanna glom onto me why?”
“'Glom on' is harsh…… uh…… we got nowhere else, so let's stick together?”
“So you two challenged Dad today, flopped like old times, got fired on top, and now I gotta take responsibility?”
Mujikja looked pained.
'……Spot on.'
But weird. Why's the kid turning us down? Word was the youngest had no faction. Vice strategist begged personally!
Taeguk Sword King and Defrocked Monk offering to back him!
Ugh!
“Uh, you're not official clan members, right?”
“True.”
“That's it! No official status, no clan stipend.”
Mujikja had never worried about money his whole life. No clue why the kid brought it up.
“So what? Food, bed—good enough.”
“No wonder they say don't dine with bald monks or tapirs!”
'I didn't say shit?'
Ilseon Dosa felt wronged.
“Haa……”
I kinda felt the need for a crew brewing. Decided to train martial arts, bound to get tangled in stuff anyway.
Already crossed paths with second bro.
Couldn't solo everything forever. Plus, these geezers radiated serious power.
But feelings don't pay bills.
“Got money?”
The branch-trimmer shook his head like it was obvious.
“Nope.”
Mujikja never earned his own—senior just handed it over.
“Anything worth cash?”
“No way.”
Same deal—beg senior, get it.
“Duh, that spaced-out geezer's broke too, right?”
“'Spaced-out' is a bit……”
“Got it or not?”
“……Nope.”
Ilseon Dosa, ex-Shaolin abbot. Left without a dime, naturally.
“The rest too, huh?”
“Would we do odd jobs if we had?”
“But is money that big a deal?”
“Holy shit, check these guys? Scary as hell.”
I laid it out straight for the worldly-naive old farts.
“Wanna join me? Bring 100 nyang silver each as initiation fee. Monthly renewals, of course.”