Chapter 505

Returned to Youth was the realm every martial artist in Murim dreamed of reaching.

When immense internal energy combined with enlightenment, the body was remade, restoring the youth it had once possessed.

But if Returned to Youth were easy, countless martial artists wouldn’t have died dreaming of it. It was impossible without Heaven’s help. And walking beside me now was a man who, after long years of painstaking effort, had finally received that stroke of heavenly luck.

“Zhuge Clan, assemble.”

Blazing red hair streamed in the wind. A solid frame of taut muscle stood nearly seven feet tall, and his voice had the weight of an iron club.

…I really can’t get used to this.

Could a person change that much? The longer I looked, the stranger I felt.

The Fire King Jeok Cheongang I knew had been a short, impossibly old man who stood barely five feet tall. He had looked like he could hardly grow any older—not like a fit middle-aged man who appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties.

Jeok Cheongang noticed me staring. He stopped walking and muttered under his breath.

“Why? Why are you looking at me again?”

“I mean, come on. How did this happen? How old were you when you looked like this?”

“I was probably not yet sixty. My hair was never red, though. Not once.”

“How did you get so much shorter as you aged? I know people shrink, but… did someone cut off your legs when you were around eighty?”

“No one cut off mine. I could cut off the legs of a certain bastard who’s been running his mouth since earlier, though.”

Jeok Cheongang glared at me, then smacked his lips.

“Anyway, stop looking at me like that. Even this old man isn’t used to it yet.”

“If you’re not used to it yourself—wait. It feels weird calling you Old Master now.”

“Then what will you call me?”

“Mister?”

“……”

“Hey, Mr. Jeok?”

“……Do you want to fucking die?”

What a relief. That murderous tone was definitely Jeok Cheongang’s.

As I felt oddly reassured, familiar faces drew near and looked between us in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Captain, who’s that beside you?”

A perfectly normal reaction. Mungyeong and the few others who knew what had happened reacted differently.

“M-my youngest.”

“B-Benefactor. Is that…?”

Jin Wikyung and Cheongpung caught on quickly. Jin Wikyung always kept his composure and read the situation, while Cheongpung was the strongest Supreme Peak master here after Mungyeong. It wasn’t surprising that they’d guessed.

Then there was Zhuge Feng. He fixed me with a grave look.

“Red hair and a red beard. According to the reports I received, no martial artist with such distinctive features has come through here. More importantly, he’s walking right beside you, which suggests you’re quite close. But you don’t have any friends, do you?”

“……That pisses me off, but you’re not wrong. So?”

“Thus, my brilliant mind leads me to suspect that the martial artist beside you might be Senior Jeok, Returned to Youth… Ha ha. What do you think? Fairly plausible nonsense, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s nonsense.”

“What do you mean, no? I’m telling you it’s true.”

“Please tell me it’s nonsense. I beg you.”

“It’s true.”

That answer didn’t come from me. Jeok Cheongang stepped forward with that short, weighty declaration, and the air around us stirred.

“Gasp!”

“R-Returned to Youth?”

“Then that man really is…!”

There was a truckload of Wudang and Zhuge Clan martial artists stationed around the makeshift wharf to guard and investigate the area. Ship-Fire Boy¹ Mu Song and the river bandits of Water Dragon Stronghold were there too, ready to take us out.

As everyone stared wide-eyed, Zhuge Feng’s gaze wavered.

Why is the Fire King here…?

It was written all over his face. Amid the uproar, he looked silently at Jeok Cheongang, then respectfully cupped his hands.

“Senior, it is good to see you. I was terribly worried something might have happened to you…”

“I’d wondered why those Demonic Cult bastards came to Mount Jiuhua when they had so many other roads to take. Now I know.”

Zhuge Feng gave an awkward laugh at the razor edge in Jeok Cheongang’s voice.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Pretend you don’t know one more time, and you won’t like what happens.”

“……May I ask how much you heard?”

“From ‘if not for my wise and perceptive grandfather’s judgment.’”

“Ah. You heard all of it.”

“I did.”

“If I said everything I told them was a misunderstanding…”

“I’d burn the Zhuge Clan to the ground.”

“Ah…”

“No wonder those goddamn Demonic Cult bastards came this way with all those other roads available.”

Jeok Cheongang clenched his fist, his eyes cold. Even when he’d looked like he might drop dead any day, that look had made everyone back down. Now that he’d Returned to Youth, the force of his aura was enough to make knees buckle.

“I woke from a nap to find Mount Jiuhua on fire. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t think it was good.”

“And?”

Zhuge Feng swallowed hard.

“I imagine you were displeased.”

“It was fucking awful. If this old man hadn’t hurried over, even my home would’ve burned to ash.”

“Your home survived, then. Thank goodness.”

“Everything but my home burned. My heart, too.”

“Ah…”

“Now, I’ll give you two choices.”

Jeok Cheongang raised a finger.

“First, I round up every bastard named Zhuge, line them up five abreast, and slap them all across the face.”

That would be quite a sight.

Before I’d finished the thought, Zhuge Feng answered without taking a breath.

“I accept the second proposal.”

“Do you even know what it is?”

“Whatever it is, I choose the second.”

I would’ve picked number two myself.

To a martial artist, pride was nearly as important as life itself. If word spread that the entire Zhuge Clan had been slapped in a line by the Fire King Jeok Cheongang, the clan would have to take down its sign from that very day onward. Even a member of the Five Great Families like the Zhuge Clan would be no exception.

Zhuge Feng had chosen wisely. Still, he couldn’t quite hide his unease.

“What is the second proposal?”

Jeok Cheongang stroked his short red beard. He slowly looked over everyone present, me included, then spoke.

“Do better from now on.”

“Senior, forgive me, but what exactly—”

“The war has already begun. Do as well as the Zhuge Clan did in the Great Faction War—no, better. Like your grandfather.”

“……!”

“Well, your grandfather didn’t conspire with the Demonic Cult and tell them to burn Mount Jiuhua. And it’s absurd to stay angry at a man who’s dead and buried. I can’t exactly go to his grave and turn it over again.”

Jeok Cheongang looked at me.

“Besides, if those Demonic Cult bastards hadn’t set Mount Jiuhua on fire that day, another bond would never have formed… Why are you making that face?”

I hurriedly composed my expression before answering.

“This is my normal face.”

“……I have an idea what you’re thinking, but I’ll let it pass.”

If I admitted I’d expected him to visit the former Family Head’s grave and piss on it, Jeok Cheongang would try to kill me. Judging by everyone else’s faces, I wasn’t the only one who’d thought it.

Still, he’s giving it this much thought. I’m a little touched.

As Jeok Cheongang had said, if he had remained a reclusive master in Mount Jiuhua, we would never have ended up working together. We would have lived in our separate worlds, never knowing the other existed.

But the pendulum of fate had led me to the Murim and connected me with Jeok Cheongang.

And whether this was fate as well or not, we had to move toward our next destination once more.

Henan.

The moment that word filled my mind, Mungyeong spoke up. He’d been standing apart all this time, his expression unreadable.

“The sun is about to set.”

The western mountains were already red. Jeok Cheongang, whose hair was redder still, grinned at me.

“Come. Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Right. Let’s go.

To Henan. To the New Murim Alliance.

“So they’ve all left?”

The first to speak was an old Daoist with a refined face. His skin was as taut as a young man’s, without a single age spot, and the long hem of his robe was dazzling white.

The Daoist who had brought him the news was old too, but his many-times-patched clothes spoke to his unassuming nature.

Clack.

Perfected Being² Hyeongong set down his teacup.

“Yes, Sect Leader Senior Brother.”

The two boys who had studied under the same master since childhood were now respected Perfected Beings² and pillars of Wudang.

Hyeongong, who had cared for little besides martial arts, had reached Supreme Peak and made a name for himself. His Senior Brother, seven years his elder, had succeeded their master as Sect Leader of Wudang. He was the refined-looking old Daoist, Perfected Being² Hyeoncheon.

“I’d hoped to meet them at least once before they left.”

Hyeongong answered his Senior Brother’s regretful murmur.

“It couldn’t be helped. You didn’t send me in your place because you didn’t want to meet them.”

“No, but I still regret missing them. There are the Two Dragons³ the Jin Family of Taiyuan and Huashan are so proud of, and I hear Senior Jeok has gained enlightenment as well. I should have seen him.”

“Ha ha. Don’t be too disappointed. We’ll see him again soon.”

“Yes, I suppose we will. If what this letter says is true.”

Hyeoncheon gazed down at the letter on the table. Across its envelope, written in a bold, soaring hand, were three characters:

Murim Alliance.

Only three characters, yet their weight was unmistakable.

The Murim Alliance represented orthodox Murim itself. It was also proof that a war rivaling the Great Faction War was approaching.

Is it truly… beginning like this?

Hyeoncheon’s expression grew heavy. He could almost hear the screams of the countless Senior and Junior Brothers who had fallen bleeding in the Great Faction War. The horrors of his youth were about to repeat themselves.

This unworthy Disciple finally understands your heart, Master.

Hyeoncheon was thinking of the master who had died after failing to overcome the injuries he had suffered during the Great Faction War when—

“S-Sect Leader!”

An urgent shout came from outside the pavilion.

Hyeoncheon sensed something strange and flicked his sleeve. A soft stream of internal force shot out and flung open the pavilion door.

Hyeongong recognized the face beyond it and frowned.

“You…”

The man who had shouted was a second-generation Wudang Disciple, one of the pursuit party sent after the Killing Ghost. As Hyeongong watched him struggle for breath, his eyes widened.

“Could it be?”

“Yes. We caught him.”

“Good! At last, the Killing Ghost who committed those heinous atrocities—”

Hyeongong broke off. His Senior Brother’s expression was grim.

And Hyeongong’s suspicion was exactly right.

Hyeoncheon silently stared at the second-generation Disciple, who seemed not to know what to do, then spoke in a low voice.

“We ought to be glad you caught the Killing Ghost, yet you look troubled. What happened?”

“Th-that is…”

“Has someone else been killed or injured?”

“No. It isn’t that…”

Unable to go on, the Disciple lowered his head.

“We’re bringing the Killing Ghost’s body here now. I think it would be best if you saw it and judged for yourself, Sect Leader.”

“What is this supposed to—”

Hyeoncheon did not have to wait long for an answer.

Half an hour later, Wudang Disciples brought the body before him. He saw what the Killing Ghost truly was and remained silent for a long time before speaking.

“It seems… I have one more reason to go to Henan.”

Reflected in the old Daoist’s clear eyes was something neither beast nor human.