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 would our Martial Uncle be here?”

“Can’t you tell by looking?”

“Which Martial Uncle?”

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

Chulwoo glanced at Cheongpung, then burst out laughing as if he’d just heard a fantastic joke.

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

“Second.”

“Enough. Wait, did you plan all this just 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 quite the pranksters too. Did all of you really conspire just to fool me? Ha ha ha!”

“……”

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

There was no way Huashan and the Jin Family of Taiyuan had joined forces to stage some hilarious hidden-camera prank just to fool this one guy.

“Ha ha ha.”

When no one—not even me—reacted, Chulwoo’s laughter gradually dwindled, then stopped altogether.

“…You’re serious?”

Baek Museong rubbed his temple as he answered.

“Yes.”

“Not a single word of it is a lie?”

“I told you, it’s true.”

Chulwoo whipped his head toward Cheongpung.

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

“Cheongpung.”

Chulwoo’s pupils trembled. He’d clearly remembered what he’d said to Cheongpung only moments ago.

“D-Dumpling.”

“Dumpling?”

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

“Without a doubt.”

I almost wished I had some popcorn.

Leaving Chulwoo to slap his own cheeks over and over as if 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 showed him grave disrespect. You ought to apologize a hundred times over. Is that not so?”

“Please forgive me, Martial Uncle.”

Chulwoo bowed his head gloomily. Judging by his expression, he would need some time to accept that the dumpling ghost was 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.

“But who are all of you?”

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

“Oh. But I’m just Grandpa’s grandson.”

The Sword Saint hadn’t 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 even at that response, Baek Museong’s gentle smile never faltered.

“My Master goes by the title of 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 them?”

Cheongpung murmured uncertainly.

“I don’t really know. I think Grandpa mentioned them once, but…”

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

Cheongpung thought hard, then suddenly exclaimed,

“Ah! That scary-looking old man!”

He’d just called the Sect Leader of Huashan a scary-looking old man. Regardless of everyone else’s shock, Cheongpung beamed now that the mystery had been solved.

“He’s my eldest Senior Brother?”

“Precisely.”

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

“You may be unfamiliar with the circumstances of our sect, Martial Uncle. 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 their conversation, he probably would’ve been acquitted at the first trial. Yet his smile never faltered.

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 spouting nonsense.

Not only was that not something Cheongpung could decide on his own, but becoming Cheongpung’s Martial Uncle would make me 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 about to nod as if under a spell when—

“Ha ha. Young Hero Cheongpung certainly knows how to tell a joke.”

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

His murderous glare snapped me back to my senses.

“No, it’s fine. I’m all right.”

“Really? What a shame.”

The other two members of the Three Plum Blossom Elites stood with their mouths hanging open in disbelief, but Baek Museong merely 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. An exceptional young prodigy like Young Hero Jin is always welcome. And…”

His gentle voice continued.

“You could also keep Martial Uncle Cheongpung company on his journey back to our sect.”

Cheongpung, who had been bouncing excitedly, went still.

“Huh? Go back?”

“Yes, Martial Uncle Cheongpung.”

Baek Museong offered 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.”

Watching Cheongpung disappear into the main hall of the Jin Family of Taiyuan, Chulwoo clicked his tongue.

“What kind of man—or rather, Martial Uncle—is he?”

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

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

“There is one person. 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 someone who outranked him in sect seniority couldn’t openly refuse his orders.

Challenging the Sect Leader’s authority was tantamount to tarnishing the sect’s name.

The larger the sect, the more rigidly that hierarchy was enforced.

“But to refuse him flat-out… Whew. I knew he was unusual, but he’s even more extraordinary than I expected.”

“You’ve only seen a tiny fraction of it. Earlier, I even called him Dumpling—no, never mind.”

Chulwoo shook his head, then cautiously asked,

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

“I’m not sure.”

Baek Museong, who had been lost in 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 so?”

“He disobeyed our Master’s order.”

Even the slightest violation of Huashan’s rules resulted in a summons from the Disciplinary Hall. If the Disciplinary Hall, which dealt with every infraction without mercy, passed judgment, Cheongpung would be treated as a serious criminal.

Seeing his Junior Brother huff indignantly, Baek Museong let out a quiet laugh.

“Martial Uncle did not violate the rules.”

“Pardon?”

“What do you mean?”

“The rules apply only to Disciples of our sect. Would a Disciple of Qingcheng Sect be punished for violating Shaolin’s rules?”

“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 truly the case.”

Baek Museong added with a sigh,

“Strictly speaking, Martial Uncle Cheongpung is little different from an outsider. This happened because he never underwent the initiation ceremony.”

Everyone underwent an initiation ceremony, whether they were a main-sect Disciple or a lay Disciple. Only then did they officially become a Disciple of Huashan and have their name 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 unbelievable.”

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

But even the boy’s astonishing accomplishments were soon overshadowed by the Sword Saint’s even more astonishing words.

“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 cannot ignore a once-in-a-millennium genius like him—”

“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 burn this whole place down.”

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

“Oh. Now that you mention it, I suppose we would. Anyway, that’s how it is. I’ll take care of Cheongpung.”

Chulwoo and Eunhyang both gaped at him.

“D-Did he really say that?”

“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?”

“I wish I were… but you both know what happened afterward.”

Cheongpung, whom the Sword Saint had promised to send when the time was right, had slipped out into the world without anyone noticing, while the Sword Saint himself 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 displayed unbelievable accomplishments ten years ago. But the world—and Murim in particular—overflowed with schemes and treachery.

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 tone, 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.

This unexpected obstacle made Baek Museong’s head throb.

What did he do for Martial Uncle to call him his Benefactor? Did he save his life or something?

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

The moment we entered the main hall, Wipeng demanded,

“What on earth did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about Cheongpung.”

Everyone’s gaze naturally turned toward Cheongpung.

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

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“Cheongpung 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 one wrong move could strain the relationship between our family and Huashan?”

Was this like a parent blaming his top-student son’s friend when the boy’s grades dropped?

I shrugged.

“I’ll try to persuade him.”

“You must. You absolutely must persuade him.”

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

“My lord, please say something as well.”

“Very well.”

Jin Wikyung put on a solemn expression and spoke.

“My youngest. Your face has grown so haggard in just a few days. Was the journey uncomfortable? Do you have any idea how worried I was…?”

“Stop. I was insane to trust you, my lord.”

“Don’t be so hard on him. My youngest will take care of it.”

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

“Ha ha ha. You certainly know 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 the Third Young Master failed to return by noon yesterday as promised.”

Jin Wikyung’s eyes widened.

“Oh, that reminds me, my youngest.”

“As you promised last time, please give him a thorough scolding.”

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

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

“I’m really leaving. It’s been awful knowing you. Let’s never meet again.”

“Ha ha ha. What’s gotten into him today? Why does he keep making me laugh?”

“Damn it. Draw your sword.”

“Taekyung, Wipeng seems eager to see your new sword. Why don’t 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 my next words froze him in place.

“Since the Fire King gave it to 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 nonsense did you just say?”

“The Fire King. Fire King. He left a sword in my care. Oh, and a martial arts manual too.”

Thunk. Clang.

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