Chapter 839

Time changes many things.

The living. The dead.

Before the laws of time, all things were equal.

Even an absolute ruler who once commanded the world will one day return to the earth. A seed scattered by the wind and mixed into the soil may, hundreds of years later, become part of a dense thicket of grass.

Murim was no different.

In the distant past, people trained in martial arts and built fences around themselves, each pursuing their own goals.

Countless days and nights passed. Great wars and shining heroes came and went, until at last the present arrived.

The Nine Sects and One Gang.

And the Five Great Families.

Fifteen pillars supporting the Murim of the Central Plains.

Deep-rooted trees that had swayed but never been uprooted in hundreds of years.

The Sichuan Tang Clan was one of them.

“Once we cross that hill up ahead, we’ll be there.”

At the coachman’s words, Ju Wongong nodded, then sneaked a look at me.

“It’s a shame we have to part here. If it were up to me, I’d treat Young Master Jin with the utmost hospitality, but…”

“Then let’s go to the city. I don’t mind being treated.”

“Young Master Jin seems to have a great many important affairs to attend to, so we’ll save that pleasure for another time.”

I’d only said it to tease him, but the guy had gone and gotten scared.

I let out a short laugh as I watched Ju Wongong hastily change his tune.

When you got right down to it, he wasn’t exactly a bad guy. He was just incompetent, fond of pocketing money from anyone and everyone, and used his imperial status to live in luxury.

“……”

Now that I put it that way, he did sound like a bad guy. Some of the bribes Ju Wongong had accepted must have come from squeezing the people dry.

He still hasn’t learned his lesson, even after nearly dying. Should I lay into him some more?

The thought must have shown on my face. Ju Wongong went pale and urged the coachman on.

“Every second counts! Pick up the pace!”

“It’s not that urgent. Don’t hassle a man who’s already doing his job. Worry about yourself.”

“Every second does not count! Maintain this speed!”

Controlling an avatar like this was surprisingly fun.

Maybe it was even more fun because he was a distant imperial relative and the acting City Lord of Sichuan Province.

Well, I had saved his life, and he was easy to handle. Keeping up a connection with him could come in handy.

“No need to go any farther. Let’s stop here. We’re almost there anyway, and neither side will be happy if we show up at the Sichuan Tang Clan like this.”

We might not have many, but if we rolled up with dozens of heavily armed cavalrymen and a six-horse carriage bearing the imperial flag, we weren’t exactly going to draw a welcoming crowd.

The relationship between the government and Murim was, to put it nicely, one of noninterference. In practice, they tended to keep their distance from each other.

“Oh, that’s a very good idea.”

Brightening at the thought of parting ways with me, Ju Wongong quickly ordered the procession to stop. Then he kindly climbed out of the carriage and opened the door for me himself.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for not seeing you off any farther. And I sincerely wish Young Master Jin a future filled with w-w…”

“Martial fortune?”

“Ah, yes. I sincerely wish you the best of martial fortune.”

I had no idea how sincere he was, but kind words deserved kind words in return. I smiled and patted Ju Wongong on the shoulder.

“Right. You take care of yourself until we meet again, Your Highness. And maybe cut back a little on the wine, women, and gambling while you’re at it. Got it?”

“I understand. I won’t forget your advice, Young Master Jin.”

“Good. See you.”

“Travel safely.”

I nodded and shut the carriage door.

Clack.

Ju Wongong, who’d been staring blankly at me through the lattice window, opened the door again.

“Um… aren’t you getting out?”

I blinked and asked him back.

“Why would I get out?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet. I’m going to borrow this carriage.”

“……?”

“As you know, we’ve got someone elderly and someone sick in our party. I figured a carriage would make things easier. People will clear the way for us on the streets, too.”

“……!”

“You Fire Dragon Pavilion folks. Come on in. You’ve had a hard time riding all this way.”

An ordinary martial artist would’ve been flustered by what I said.

It’s an imperial carriage, can we really do this? No, it’s all right, I’m fine. One model answer after another.

But the great Fire Dragon Pavilion members were a different breed.

Actually, whatever fresh-faced promise they’d once had had come back from Nanman dyed yellow.

“Aw, shit. My whole body’s aching bad enough to kill me, and these Central Plains bastards are so high and mighty they don’t even respect the elderly…”

Namho started, muttering as if he wanted to be heard and patting his waist. The Fire Dragon Pavilion members climbed down from their horses and filed into the carriage.

Of course, they didn’t forget to make their own comments.

“They didn’t even give us five-spice pork. Taishan angry. Want to smash everything.”

“Now, now, Taishan. No matter how poorly they treat us, you mustn’t do that.”

“It reminds me of when I’d just started life as a wandering martial artist. People didn’t treat me like a person back then, either.”

“Nice carriage, Pavilion Master. Could we take it back to our Escort Bureau later?”

I told Ju Hwaran she could, then turned to the carriage’s owner, who stood there stunned, and politely asked:

“Could you pull off the flag hanging there? We’re not imperial family, and it’d be a pain if we went around with that thing still on.”

“……”

Ju Wongong looked from us, packed snugly inside the carriage, to the cavalrymen staring awkwardly off at the distant mountains. He let out a deep sigh.

Then he yanked the splendid golden flag free.

“Oh, and close the door for us.”

“……”

“Don’t want to?”

Clack.

Controlling an avatar like this really was a lot of fun.

The first to greet us when we reached the Sichuan Tang Clan were the gruff voice and wary eyes of a gate guard stationed atop the newly built stone wall.

“Stop! State your affiliation and name. If you’re a martial artist, give your title and reason for coming.”

The gate guard’s wariness vanished without a trace the moment I leaned my head out of the carriage.

“Open the gate! Open the gate!”

“Why? Who’s here?”

“I said open it, you little bastard!”

When I first visited the Sichuan Tang Clan a few months ago, I was pretty sure hidden weapons had come flying at me. This time, the gate opened before I could even open my mouth.

Rrrrumble.

As the massive iron gate swung open, the gate guard smacked the clueless new recruit on the back of the head. He clasped his hands in salute to me several times, then rushed off somewhere in a panic.

“Everyone, come outside! The Fire Dragon Pavilion has arrived!”

“What?! Are we under attack again?”

“What kind of crazy talk is that? The Fire Dragon Pavilion led by Great Hero Jin Taekyung, the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon, is here!”

“What?!”

Maybe he’d been taking a nap after his shift. A martial artist of the Sichuan Tang Clan, a white trail of drool still at the corner of his mouth, tossed aside the hidden weapon in his hand and came running.

Or, to be precise, it wasn’t just the Sichuan Tang Clan.

“Great Hero Jin! Do you remember me?”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again. Thanks to you, the Disciples of our sect were spared heavy losses.”

“Amitabha.¹ To think that Benefactor Jin has returned to Sichuan Murim. On behalf of Emei, I offer you my thanks once more.”

“Well, well, who do we have here! Gae-ttong, go get the others!”

The martial artists of the Sichuan Tang Clan, dressed in green uniforms, were joined by Daoists from the Qingcheng Sect, nuns from the Emei Sect, and finally even the beggars of the Beggars’ Sect.

At the sight of that enormous crowd surging in like a sea of people, Namho gaped.

“Hell, what in the world have you been doing?”

“I more or less told you what happened in Sichuan.”

“Even so, this is… It’s strange enough that people from other sects are here with the Sichuan Tang Clan, who are famous for their foul tempers. But why are they all coming out like this?”

“I just did a few things here and there.”

Namho knew some of what had happened, but I didn’t go into detail.

There was nothing more embarrassing than praising myself, and he’d find out naturally anyway.

Still, it looks like everyone’s been doing well.

I kept bowing my head as cheers and clasped-hand greetings poured in from every direction. Something tickled at a corner of my heart.

To be honest, I’d been a little worried.

It hadn’t even been half a year since the forces of Dark Heaven, led by the Western Heaven Demon Lord, swept across Sichuan.

The Sichuan Tang Clan had been the main target and suffered enormous losses. Qingcheng, Emei, and the Beggars’ Sect had all paid in blood, too.

But contrary to my fears, the faces surrounding me now held nothing but joy.

Thank goodness. Thank goodness.

The Outer Court, where dark-red bloodstains had still been visible just before we left, was now full of green grass.

The sky, once blanketed in black smoke from the fires that cremated countless bodies day after day, was clear without a single cloud. Beneath it stood rows of pavilions rebuilt through everyone’s help and hard work.

I didn’t know whether they had completely moved on from the grief of that day.

But one thing was certain.

The Sichuan Tang Clan—or rather, Sichuan Murim—had risen again.

They had stopped the invisible rift that had persisted all this time, coming together to rise above their grief.

To avenge what they had lost.

And to make sure they never lost something precious again.

Yeah. That’s all that matters.

I told myself that firmly, as though making a promise, and climbed down from the carriage.

The crowd had already blocked the road, but more than that, I’d spotted a familiar face approaching in the distance.

Step. Step.

A body so slender it was almost emaciated. A pallid face like that of someone suffering from an illness, and footsteps landing with vigor, as if he were scolding his own frailty.

Step.

Suddenly, he stopped.

The cheers gradually died down, and the crowd parted to either side.

At the end of the path, an old man looked at me with eyes gleaming a soft green.

“It’s been a long time.”

His greeting was not merely stiff—it was cold.

But the next moment, everyone holding their breath as they watched saw it clearly.

The old man, who seemed as if he would never bow to anyone, bent at the waist toward me.

And they heard warmth in his voice—warmth no one there had ever heard from him before.

“I, Tang Sadok, Family Head of the Sichuan Tang Clan and the Myriad-Poison Asura, have the honor of meeting my family’s Benefactor.”

The unexpected courtesy left me at a loss for words. Tang Sadok clasped his hands in a sincere salute, then looked at me and smiled.

At the corners of his mouth, always sharp and hard as a dagger, dimples appeared—dimples I’d never seen before.

“It’s good to see you again, Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung.”

At that one line, filled with the old man’s joy, the suppressed cheers rang out thunderously.

At the same time, another voice slipped through the noise and into my ear—one only I could hear.

I have plenty I want to say, but we’ll have to save it for later. Don’t you agree?

I belatedly smiled back and nodded. Tang Sadok’s Sound Transmission continued.

Come with me. I’ll take you to the Old Master.