What I Couldn't Pass On (1)
As soon as the sparring match ended, I-gwon was immediately carried to the medical hall by the doctors. Everyone looked worried. But no one was leaving right away.
I shrugged at them to convey my intentions.
Jinheo and Jingak, along with the first- and second-generation disciples, bowed briefly before hurrying after the doctors.
Once the Shaolin disciples had gone, I spotted Namgung Je-cheon grinning like an idiot.
I didn't know why, but I wanted to smack the back of his head. Unfortunately, I didn't even have the strength to lift my arm anymore.
That's when Long-Nose Grandpa shuffled over and slyly asked me,
"What was that just now?"
I played dumb and asked back.
"What do you mean?"
"Come on~ not between us."
"What 'us'? The kind where you know but won't teach me?"
"Ahem! It's not that I won't teach you—it's that I can't. Just give me a hint. You know, that thing where the taiji merge."
"I don't remember~"
"……."
Life's all about give and take—what comes must go, and what goes must come.
"I can show you a demonstration during training later."
"Th-thank you."
"No problem. Anyway, Je-cheon."
At my call, Namgung Je-cheon stopped chuckling to himself and jumped like he'd choked.
"Hee hee hee, y-yes?"
He looked just like a kid caught playing a prank.
"Got some good news?"
"Kyokyokyo, you bet. Kyokyokyo."
Suspicious...
That guy's laugh had turned downright creepy.
"Alright! Let's head back and catch up properly. Today, I'll treat you all to something special—big time!"
"Whoa!!! Sweet!"
"Today, I'm wiping out every last coin you've got!"
Namgung Je-cheon's bombshell declaration had me and Mujikja cheering wildly.
Ilseon Dosa, on the other hand, looked dead serious.
"Baldy Grandpa."
I called him softly.
Ilseon Dosa turned to me like an abandoned puppy. Tsk tsk, what a pitiful sight for an old man.
"If you're worried, go check on him. Or take a few days to rest there properly."
His expression softened a bit. His tightly shut mouth finally opened.
"R-really? It's okay?"
"You're home after so long—what's not okay about that?"
"Thank you. I'll repay this favor someday."
I etched that word "favor" into my head and replied.
"You're too kind."
Ilseon Dosa bolted off without looking back. He must be really worried about I-gwon.
Though it seemed like he had some other agenda too.
He probably wants to teach him.
Any baldy grandpa worth his salt would've spotted what I-gwon was lacking right away.
I turned to Namgung Je-cheon.
"Let's go! To the best inn in Henan!"
"Hold on, where?"
This guy? Suddenly playing coy?
"The best inn in Henan! The one we tried to go to last time but couldn't! The place that looked at least twenty stories tall!"
"Um..."
"What?"
"I was thinking of the one just around the corner. By the way, one dish at the place you're talking about costs as much as my monthly salary."
"So?"
Hey, I'm the guy who once lost his entire fortune in a day over one wrong word!
"……."
"Let's go! And Long-Nose Grandpa, give me a piggyback. My legs are jelly—I can't move."
"No..."
"If you're full, I might tell you about that taiji thing. You know, the yin-yang merging part."
"Sounds good! Let's go!"
Long-Nose Grandpa scooped me up. I looked down at Namgung Je-cheon, who had a shit-eating grin frozen on his face.
"Kyokyokyo, what're you waiting for?"
"Young master."
"Yeah?"
"That laugh sounds seriously annoying. Don't do it in front of me again."
"Kekeke, got it."
So that's why this guy's been laughing like that! Kyokyokyo.
"……."
* * *
At the inn, Namgung Daeso ordered a total of fifty dishes with Mujikja. Mujikja downed twenty bottles of the finest liquor by himself, as if proving why he'd been kicked out of Wudang.
And Namgung Je-cheon swore that day: he'd never again say he'd treat these two beggar-like bastards.
He was whispering with the innkeeper.
"Uh... how much?"
"Just a moment, sir—the portions are huge. Let's see... total comes to 112 gold taels. We'll waive the 12 and call it 100."
Namgung Je-cheon hid his shock and glanced back. Namgung Daeso and Mujikja were patting their bulging bellies, grinning ear to ear like they'd conquered the world.
His own hands shook so badly he could barely eat.
"C-can I... put it on my tab?"
A flash of killing intent from the innkeeper. The old Je-cheon would've pissed himself.
"If your identity checks out, sure. But sir, do you know what this place is?"
"Of course! Who do you think I am?"
"Don't care who. Just show something to verify. We've seen plenty of big talkers."
Namgung Je-cheon fumbled out a nameplate.
"See? This is me."
"S-sir?"
"Yeah, yeah! I'm that guy!"
"But isn't the Namgung clan's deputy strategist a woman?"
"Huh? When did that change?"
"A year ago?"
"I-hyang sis is quick! Haha! She'll snag the master's seat soon enough."
Is he nuts?
Does he know where he is, impersonating a Namgung deputy strategist?
The mood turned ugly.
"Boys."
The innkeeper called lowly over his shoulder, and rough-looking thugs in Namgung uniforms poured out.
"You called, boss?"
"This guest seems short on cash."
"Aigoo~ That's our specialty. Leave it to us, boss!"
"Right! Well, guest, I'm busy."
"Uh... w-wait..."
This wasn't what he wanted. Namgung Je-cheon shot pleading looks at Namgung Daeso and Mujikja.
Only to turn back in despair.
When did they bail? You traitors!!!
The thugs surrounded him.
"Sir~! Time for a little chat."
"And don't try 'you know who's behind me'—it won't fly. As you know, the Namgung clan backs us. Even the emperor couldn't stiff us. Sounds crazy? Haha!"
Emperor, my ass! I've met him personally! I'm the guy behind that joke! I'm the deputy strategist you're so proud of!
...Well, not anymore.
"One more time, sir—if you can settle 100 gold taels with influence or a guarantor, we'll send you off nicely. It's not a fortune to us, but people gotta pay for what they eat, right? Be reasonable."
Namgung Je-cheon thought it was a relief.
"Haha! Thanks for your trouble. I'm Namgung Je-cheon."
"Yes. So, anyone or anything to verify?"
"You don't know Namgung Je-cheon? That's me."
"Sure. And I'm a Namgung elder. Show us proof."
Words weren't getting through. Whoever trained them drilled principles deep.
Namgung Je-cheon felt a twisted pride. But why apply that yardstick now? To me?
His luggage was back at Shaolin, and the only ones who knew him had just left. Damn traitors! No more treats from me.
"Alright, no proof—light beating to start. Legally!"
Thwack!!
That night.
"Traitors!"
With his eyes swollen shut on one side, Namgung Je-cheon ran into the Henan governor entering the inn just in time.
-Isn't that the deputy strategist?
-Governor!!!
The man, who visited the Namgung estate yearly for greetings, thankfully recognized him.
-I kept saying I was Namgung Je-cheon, but they kept beating me! Over a measly 100 gold taels! I handle over 30,000 a day! And I built this inn! Didn't even recognize their direct superior!
-S-sorry! Grave sin! I'll offer my neck right here!
...Hold on, our direct superior did change, right?
-D-did he?
-Yeah, you're not anything now, are you? Weren't you fired?
-I... was?
-Yes.
-Settle it first, Governor.
Thankfully, the governor covered the 100 gold taels, letting Namgung Je-cheon escape unscathed.
"Damn it, never treating again!"
He vowed as he climbed the mountain.
* * *
A week passed.
"N-no! You can't do that!"
Whoosh whoosh.
"Doesn't hurt! Thanks, doc!"
Just a week ago, this patient's right wrist was fractured. He'd checked it himself, confirmed the patient couldn't move it. At least a month of rest needed.
"I told you not to move it! It'll break again!"
The splint wrapped with the bandage was gone.
A once-broken bone heals stronger. But mishandle before it sets, and it worsens.
The doctor had seen hundreds go lame like that.
Whoosh!
"Listen to me! You're impossible!"
"Haha! All better. Great work, doc!"
The doctor calmed the hulking brute first, then reexamined the wrist.
In sixty-plus years of practice, he'd never seen muscles so systematically built. Each check left him awed.
And... prod prod.
Hm? It should snap here—the break.
Prod prod.
"Haha! Tickles!"
Oblivious to the patient's odd stare, the doctor kept prodding I-gwon's arm.
Impossible.
Did bones set in a week now? Even murim folk weren't that fast...
"Can I get up? Been still a week—body's itching."
"F-first, need permission from the elders. Orders—you know. Wait here."
"But I'm fine..."
The doctor ignored I-gwon's grumbling, reiterated no moving, and left.
I-gwon wanted to train the arts Ilseon Dosa taught, but obeyed for now.
Moments later, someone entered the medical hall.
"Hey, really all better?"
I'd been strolling the Shaolin grounds when I grabbed a sprinting doctor for an update on I-gwon. Rushed here immediately.
"Yep! Check this!"
Whoosh!
The wind pressure was no joke. Felt even stronger than before the break.
"Young master! Rematch! This time, I'll smash you for sure. Guaranteed!"
Crazy bastard.
I sighed and shot back instantly.
"Nah, pass."
Then someone burst in panting. Jinheo demanded of I-gwon right away.
"You okay?"
"Yes! All good."
I-gwon swung his arm again. Crazy bastard. One graze on someone...
Didn't want to imagine.
"Heh heh, youth is grand. Healing this fast."
Something off about that phrasing. No youth heals a bone in a week.
Soon Jingak and the first-, second-, third-generation disciples visited in turn.
I slipped out to give them space.
Seemed Shaolin affairs were wrapping up nicely. Time to go.
Jinheo emerged first, broom still in hand from his rush.
"Defrocked Grandpa."
I called softly.
"What? No time to talk. Gotta sweep the courtyard and hurry back. Damn temple's too big."
Jinheo still swept post-match. Complained every time, but never dropped the broom.
He could've paid his debt easily—must be guilt weighing him down. Sweeping as penance.
"I'm heading out now."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"Today?"
Clunk.
He dropped the broom. Whoa, he did. Take it back.
"Guess I need to wrap that up quick. You didn't forget?"
Ah... that.
"Of course. I remember."
"Good. Settle it clean at lunch."
"Sure."
I nodded readily.
"Aigo."
Jinheo groaned, bending stiffly to grab the broom. Tsk tsk, even a former Shaolin head can't cheat age.
* * *
I returned to the hall to pack. Ilseon Dosa, back after a week, was sneaking his luggage together.
"Baldy Grandpa."
I called softly.
"Defrocked Grandpa says he'll headbutt you?"
Ilseon Dosa's back flinched as he packed.
That secret deal when we first arrived at Shaolin. Or... not so secret?
"Defrocked Grandpa's gonna smash your daegari?"
"Amitabha..."
With a weak chant, he set down his bag and turned.
Namgung Daeso leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring.
"Packed all nice— you weren't planning to ditch, were you?"