Chapter 185

“Baek Museong, First-generation Disciple of Huashan, pays his respects to his Martial Uncle.”

“Who are you?”

For a moment, I thought the world had stopped.

Jin Wikyung and Wolhwa, who had been walking behind Baek Museong, stopped in their tracks. Even the pretty young woman following them came to a halt.

Of course, Chulwoo had the best reaction of all.

“Senior Brother, what are you talking about? Why is our Martial Uncle here?”

“Can’t you tell just by looking?”

“Which Martial Uncle?”

“Martial Uncle Cheongpung. The one standing to your right.”

Chulwoo glanced at Cheongpung, then burst out laughing as though he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Ha ha ha! Senior Brother, you must be mistaken.”

“Second.”

“Enough. Wait, is this some kind of setup to mess with me?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Senior Brother, I’m not that gullible. Now that I think about it, the people of the Jin Family of Taiyuan are pretty playful too. Did all of you really conspire together just to fool me? Ha ha ha!”

“……”

What was this, some kind of Korean-Chinese co-produced drama?

There was no way Huashan and the Jin Family of Taiyuan had teamed up to plan the most hilarious hidden-camera prank ever just to fool this one guy.

“Ha ha ha.”

When no one—not even me—reacted, Chulwoo’s laughter gradually faded before cutting off completely.

“……You’re serious?”

Baek Museong rubbed his temple as he answered.

“Yes.”

“Not a single word of it is a lie?”

“As I said.”

Chulwoo whipped his head toward Cheongpung.

“Excuse me, Young Hero. What’s your name?”

“Cheongpung.”

A tremor ran through Chulwoo’s pupils. He had clearly remembered what he had said to Cheongpung just a few moments earlier.

“D-Dumpling.”

“Dumpling?”

“N-Nothing. Then is this really Martial Uncle Cheongpung?”

“Without a doubt.”

I almost wished I had some popcorn.

Leaving Chulwoo behind as he slapped his own cheeks over and over, apparently wondering whether he was dreaming, Baek Museong spoke.

“I apologize, Martial Uncle Cheongpung.”

Cheongpung answered with an innocent expression.

“No, it’s fine.”

“You failed to recognize an elder of our sect and committed a grave discourtesy. It is only right that you apologize a hundred times. Is that not so?”

“Please forgive me, Martial Uncle.”

Chulwoo lowered his head gloomily. Judging by his expression, he would need some time before he could accept that dumpling ghost as his Martial Uncle.

Of course, Cheongpung didn’t care in the slightest.

If anything, he was more curious about his relationship with these new faces.

“Who is everyone?”

“We are all Disciples of Huashan, just like Martial Uncle Cheongpung.”

“Oh. I’m just my grandpa’s grandson, though.”

The Sword Saint had not merely passed his martial arts on to Cheongpung as a Disciple. He had raised him as his grandson. That was why Cheongpung had only the vaguest understanding of sects and martial artists.

Yet Baek Museong did not lose his gentle smile at Cheongpung’s response.

“My Master goes by the title of the Heavenly Sword True Person. In terms of seniority, he is your eldest Senior Brother.”

“My eldest Senior Brother?”

“Yes. Your Master—or rather, your grandfather—the Sword Saint had three Disciples before you. Have you ever heard about this?”

Cheongpung murmured in a thoroughly uncertain voice.

“I don’t really know. I think I heard something about it from Grandpa once, but…”

“He even came to visit you with several others ten years ago.”

Cheongpung thought hard, then suddenly cried out.

“Ah! That scary-looking old man!”

The Sect Leader of Huashan, and Cheongpung called him a scary-looking old man.

Regardless of everyone’s shock, Cheongpung was delighted that the mystery had been solved.

“Is he my Senior Brother?”

“Precisely.”

“Ohhh. I see. I thought he was a bad person. It looked like he was trying to kick me and Grandpa out.”

“Martial Uncle may be unfamiliar with the circumstances of our sect. You can learn about those things little by little.”

What admirable patience.

Even if Baek Museong had slapped Cheongpung across the ear in the middle of the conversation, he probably would have been acquitted at the first trial. Yet he never lost his smile.

No wonder there’s a crane in his epithet.

As I was thinking that, Cheongpung turned to me with a bright smile.

“Benefactor, they say they’re my Martial Nephews!”

“Ah, yes. Congratulations.”

“Do you want to be my Martial Nephew too, Benefactor?”

“……Me?”

“Why? If you don’t want to be my Martial Nephew, I can make you my Martial Uncle.”

This crazy bastard was saying crazy things.

Not only was that not something Cheongpung could decide on his own, but being Cheongpung’s Martial Uncle would mean becoming a junior fellow Disciple of the Sword Saint, Mae Jonghak.

For all I knew, I could even order the Sect Leader of Huashan to run cigarette errands for me.

“……”

That actually sounded pretty good.

I was just about to nod as if under a spell when—

“Ha ha, Young Hero Cheongpung really, really knows how to joke.”

Wipeng’s mouth was smiling, but his eyes were saying something entirely different.

His glare looked like he wanted to tear me apart. I instantly came to my senses.

“No, it’s fine. I’m all right.”

“Really? What a shame.”

Unlike the other two members of the Three Plum Blossom Elites, who stood there with their mouths hanging open in bewilderment, Baek Museong only smiled.

“You may not be able to formally enter the sect, but we can certainly welcome you as an honored guest.”

I blinked.

“Was that a formal invitation?”

“Of course. A talented young martial artist like Young Hero Jin would always be welcome. And…”

His gentle voice continued.

“You could also serve as good company for Martial Uncle Cheongpung on his journey back to our sect.”

Cheongpung had been swaying excitedly, but his movements stopped abruptly.

“Huh? Return?”

“Yes, Martial Uncle Cheongpung.”

Baek Museong made a deep fist-and-palm salute. When he spoke again, his voice was stern and solemn.

“It is the Sect Leader’s order. Please return to Huashan.”

As Cheongpung disappeared into the main hall of the Jin Family of Taiyuan, Chulwoo clicked his tongue.

“What kind of guy—or Martial Uncle—is that?”

Eunhyang, who bickered with Chulwoo at every opportunity, nodded this time.

“Exactly. I didn’t know there was anyone who could refuse our Master’s order.”

“There is one person.”

“Who?”

“Grandmaster.”

“Senior Brother Chul, he doesn’t count.”

Chulwoo scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Well, that’s true.”

The Sect Leader’s authority was absolute. Even if someone ranked higher than him in terms of sect seniority, they could not openly refuse his orders.

Challenging the Sect Leader’s authority was no different from tarnishing the name of the sect.

That hierarchy was even more rigid in a major sect.

“But to reject it in one clean stroke… Whew. I knew he was unusual, but he’s even more extreme than I expected.”

“You’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg. Earlier, I even called him Dumpling—no.”

Chulwoo shook his head, then cautiously asked,

“What are you planning to do now, Senior Brother?”

“I don’t know.”

Baek Museong, who had been lost in quiet thought, finally spoke.

“I didn’t expect Martial Uncle Cheongpung to refuse so stubbornly.”

“At this point, shouldn’t the Disciplinary Hall step in instead of us?”

“Why do you think that?”

“He disobeyed our Master’s order.”

Even the slightest violation of Huashan’s rules resulted in a summons from the Disciplinary Hall. If that body, which dealt with even the smallest matters with ruthless precision, judged the case, Cheongpung would be no different from a serious criminal.

At the sight of his Junior Brother snorting through his nose, Baek Museong gave a quiet laugh.

“Martial Uncle did not violate the rules.”

“Pardon?”

“What do you mean?”

“The rules apply only to the Disciples of our sect. If a Disciple of Qingcheng Sect violated Shaolin’s rules, would he be punished?”

“Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it does. But Martial Uncle Cheongpung is… our Martial Uncle. He’s Grandmaster’s Disciple.”

“If only that were the case.”

Baek Museong added with a sigh,

“Strictly speaking, Martial Uncle Cheongpung is no different from an outsider. This happened because he never underwent the initiation ceremony.”

Every Disciple, whether a main-sect Disciple or a lay Disciple, underwent an initiation ceremony. Only then did they become Disciples of Huashan and have their names entered into the sect registry.

But Cheongpung was different.

“Who could have known Grandmaster would do something like that?”

Baek Museong remembered what had happened ten years ago with perfect clarity.

After the Sword Saint had lived in seclusion for many years, his Master, the Heavenly Sword True Person, had led several people in searching Huashan himself. At last, they discovered a residence where a ten-year-old boy was swinging a sword.

“It was utterly unbelievable.”

No one knew when the boy had arrived, where he had come from, or how he had been raised. Yet he had already learned Huashan’s treasured signature arts.

And the boy’s astonishing accomplishments were soon buried beneath the Sword Saint’s even more shocking declaration.

You want me to initiate him?

Yes, Master. I intend to conduct the initiation ceremony and accept him as a main-sect Disciple. The order may be backward, but we can’t ignore a genius of the ages like that—

Ignore him.

Pardon?

I said to continue ignoring him. When the time comes, I’ll send him over myself.

M-Master!

And don’t come looking for him again. Not unless you want me to set the whole place on fire.

Set fire to Huashan? Are you saying we should all die together?

Oh. Now that you mention it, I suppose we would. Anyway, take it that way. I’ll take responsibility for Cheongpung, that child.

Chulwoo and Eunhyang both gaped at him.

“D-Did he really say that?”

“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?”

“I wish I were exaggerating… but don’t you know what happened afterward?”

Cheongpung, whom the Sword Saint had said he would send over when the time was right, had slipped out into the world without anyone noticing, and the Sword Saint had vanished without a trace.

“The truth is, our Master isn’t worried about Grandmaster. He’s worried about Martial Uncle Cheongpung.”

Cheongpung had already demonstrated unbelievable accomplishments ten years ago. But the world—and Murim in particular—was overflowing with all kinds of sinister schemes.

It was far too dangerous for someone who wasn’t a Disciple of Huashan to wander the world while possessing Huashan’s secret arts.

“We must bring Martial Uncle Cheongpung back. For his sake, and for the sake of our sect. Do you understand?”

The two nodded at his resolute voice, then suddenly spoke up.

“But, Senior Brother…”

“How are we supposed to bring him back? By force?”

“That…”

Baek Museong hesitated before letting out a deep sigh.

“First, we need to bring the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi over to our side.”

All three of them remembered Cheongpung’s final words at the same time.

I’m staying with my Benefactor!

The Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi, Jin Taekyung.

Faced with this unexpected obstacle, Baek Museong felt a throbbing pain in his head.

What kind of help did he receive for Cheongpung to call him his Benefactor? Could he have saved his life?

A bond that had begun with a few candied hawthorn skewers¹ was proving more tenacious than expected.

The moment we entered the main hall, Wipeng abruptly asked,

“What on earth did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about Young Hero Cheong.”

Everyone’s eyes naturally turned toward Cheongpung.

He was stuffing the refreshments from the table into his mouth until his cheeks bulged.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“Young Hero Cheong defied the Sect Leader’s order. He said he would stay with the Third Young Master.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, ‘so’? Don’t you understand that if you make some needless mistake, it could sour the relationship between our family and Huashan?”

Is this like when a top student’s grades fall and his parents start hating his friend?

I shrugged.

“I’ll persuade him somehow.”

“You must. You absolutely must persuade him.”

Wipeng’s voice was filled with firm resolve. He whipped his head toward Jin Wikyung, who was seated in the place of honor.

“My lord, please say something as well.”

“Very well.”

Jin Wikyung put on a solemn expression and parted his lips.

“Youngest. Your face has gotten so haggard in just a few days. Was the journey uncomfortable? Do you know how worried I was…?”

“Stop. I was an idiot for trusting you, my lord.”

“Don’t be so hard on him. The youngest will handle things properly on his own.”

“This is driving me insane. As of today, I’m leaving the Jin Family of Taiyuan.”

“Ha ha ha. This friend knows how to tell a joke.”

“Did that sound like a joke?”

“Yes. It was very funny.”

“I’m not amused. I haven’t been amused since yesterday noon, when the Third Young Master was late despite promising to return by then.”

Jin Wikyung’s eyes widened.

“Oh, that reminds me, youngest.”

“As you promised last time, please scold him thoroughly this time.”

“What’s that sword strapped to your back? It looks like you had it made while you were away. Let me take a look.”

Unable to contain his anger, Wipeng shot to his feet.

“I’m really leaving. It was filthy being with you, so let’s never see each other again.”

“Ha ha ha. What’s gotten into that friend today? Why is he making me laugh so much?”

“Damn it. Draw your sword.”

“Taekyung, Wipeng seems eager to see your new sword. Would you draw it for him?”

“Aaaaaah!”

With his eyes rolling back, Wipeng let out a shriek and placed his hand on the sword hilt.

But the next words I spoke made his body freeze.

“Since it’s something the Fire King gave me, I think it would be best not to touch it if possible.”

“……?”

“……?”

Jin Wikyung and Wipeng blinked silently before finally managing to speak.

“F-Fire what?”

“Third Young Master, what kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

“The Fire King. Fire King. He entrusted a sword to me. Oh, and a martial arts manual too.”

Thunk. Clang.

In the suffocating silence, the sound of Wipeng dropping his sword rang out like thunder.