HDCLSSRS Ch 90

Chapter 90 Do You Like Me? (4)

For the first time, Baek Ryeoil looked straight at them.

“Say that one more time.”

Jinseo tensed up slightly. Facing Baek Ryeoil head-on was far more intimidating than he had expected. To be honest, Jinseo had underestimated him a bit. Sure, Baek Ryeoil had a tall, robust figure that made him look impressive, but in martial circles, one didn’t judge a person’s martial prowess by appearance alone.

But those eyes…

It was hard to believe this was the same man who just moments ago had looked utterly disinterested. Still, Jinseo couldn’t back down now—not when the honor of his sect was at stake. He forced a smirk onto his face and retorted mockingly,

“Are you talking about how the Yuun Sword Dojang only made it big thanks to the Mujeong Sword? It’s a fact that your school doesn’t really have any notable achievements, isn’t it?”

In the next moment, a gust of wind seemed to pass, and Jinseo found himself yanked up by the collar, caught tightly in Baek Ryeoil’s iron grip. His eyes, now glaring from just inches away, held a murderous glint.

“How dare you bring my master’s name into your filthy mouth…?”

‘Nooooooo!’

Wang Hojun screamed internally, tears streaming down in his heart.

O Lord of Primordial Heaven, please watch over us…

Things had already spiraled far beyond his control. There was no way he could stop Baek Ryeoil in this state. He was completely helpless. Playing dead seemed like his only option now.

Just as he was about to give up all hope, Wang Hojun spotted Seong Muyeon approaching from afar with a carefree spring in his step. Suddenly, a scene from a few days ago popped into his mind—back then, Baek Ryeoil and Jang Han-su were also about to clash, and it was Seong Muyeon’s sudden appearance that had somehow defused the situation as if nothing had happened.

Maybe…!

It could’ve just been a coincidence. But Wang Hojun had to try something—anything. If things went south here, the Mount Hua Sect would be in serious trouble. It would bring shame to not only Majincheon, but to their master, the elders, and possibly even the sect leader himself.

Wang Hojun rushed desperately toward Seong Muyeon.

“Sir! We’ve got a problem! Baek-sahyung is about to blow up again!”

“Eek! For real?”

Seong Muyeon whipped his body around in alarm.

“Wait—where are you going?”

“Gotta run before the sparks fly!”

“….”

Wang Hojun quickly regained his composure and clung to Seong Muyeon’s sleeve, holding on tight.

“Come on, sir! Please, just this once—help me out!”

“Huh? Help? Me?”

“The other guy’s not even an internal member! He’s from Jongnam Sect! If something goes wrong, this won’t just be a slap on the wrist. Three days in the repentance hall won’t cut it this time. I’ll be held responsible too!”

“Come on… Baek-dojang wouldn’t lose it that badly, would he?”

But the moment Seong Muyeon said that, he started second-guessing himself. Memories of Baek Ryeoil’s past actions flashed through his mind like a montage.

Maybe… he really was that reckless.

“Can’t you see?! That guy lives like there’s no tomorrow!”

Seong Muyeon gulped.

“But what exactly do you want me to do? The guy doesn’t even listen to his master or the sect leader. What could I, a mere nobody, possibly say?”

“What does Baek-sahyung hate the most?”

That was a question even a stranger could answer easily.

“…The Demonic Sect?”

“Exactly! Fight fire with fire! If a prince of the Demonic Sect is right in front of him, he won’t even see a Jongnam Sect disciple. We don’t have time. Just try it, please. Think of it as saving a life…”

“…”

Is this even right?

Seong Muyeon wasn’t entirely convinced, but he couldn’t turn away from the pitiful Wang Hojun. So, he moved toward the center of the commotion.

By now, a large crowd had gathered in front of the dining hall, forming a wide circle. There wasn’t even room to step forward.

“Excuse me, coming through!”

When Seong Muyeon finally pushed his way through, the scene was worse than he imagined. Baek Ryeoil, visibly enraged, had grabbed a man by the collar who appeared to be a Jongnam disciple in martial robes. The other Jongnam members were fuming as well, looking seconds away from drawing their swords as they hurled insults. It was a volatile situation.

Seong Muyeon was scared. Normally, as long as Seong didn’t cross the line, Baek Ryeoil tolerated his antics. It was like a bear, king of the forest, ignoring an ant crawling over its foot.

Even Seong rarely saw Baek Ryeoil this furious. He couldn’t summon the courage to approach, until he saw Wang Hojun’s pleading eyes glancing at him from the crowd, as if he were a lifeline.

Gulp.

Swallowing hard, Seong Muyeon finally made up his mind and rushed into the heart of the chaos.

“Baek-dojang!”

At the sound of his booming voice, everyone’s attention snapped to him. Baek Ryeoil’s intense gaze, previously locked onto the Jongnam disciples, now fell on Seong Muyeon. Seong’s courage shrank under that gaze, but he continued.

“D-Do… dojang… I have something important to talk to you about. Just over there, for a moment.”

He tugged gently at Baek Ryeoil’s sleeve. But the man was like a mountain—unmoving. His eyes shifted immediately back to the Jongnam group.

“Later.”

Baek Ryeoil brushed him off with a tone of annoyance, and Seong stumbled backward. The Mount Hua disciples quickly caught him before he fell.

Completely ignored, Seong Muyeon felt insulted. According to Wang Hojun, he was the prince of the Demonic Sect. Had he really fallen so far as to be dismissed in favor of some random Jongnam disciple?

Do you know who I am?

I’m the prince of the Demonic Sect!

Frustrated, Seong Muyeon grabbed Baek Ryeoil’s arm more forcefully this time.

“Dojang! This has to happen now! You should at least hear me out!”

“I said—later!”

“Well then, stay here forever! I’m leaving!”

Seong turned dramatically as if to storm off. Baek Ryeoil gave him a glance… but turned away again.

“….”

It was useless.

Seong shot a glare at Wang Hojun in the crowd.

It’s not working!

I noticed…

Wang Hojun sighed and began slipping away. It seemed he had given up all hope and was off to fetch a senior member.

“What’s with that guy?”

One of the Jongnam disciples muttered, eyeing Seong Muyeon. The appearance of some pale-looking scholar flailing around had momentarily stunned the Jongnam group, but now they returned to provoking Baek Ryeoil again.

“Instead of all this, how about we settle this with an official duel? I hear you’re quite the swordsman. Let’s see how well Yuun Sword Dojang trains its disciples.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Things were escalating fast.

There was a reason sects usually avoided crossing swords. On the surface, major sects acted cordial, but beneath it all, rivalry ran deep. Aside from the occasional martial arts tournament where they sized each other up, sects preferred to praise one another publicly while privately believing themselves superior. That delicate balance was how the righteous martial world managed to coexist.

But if actual swords clashed here, the relationship between the two sects could hit rock bottom. No wonder Wang Hojun was panicking.

Seong Muyeon didn’t like the idea of that balance falling apart either. He just wanted to live a quiet life.

Screw it, whatever happens happens!

Unable to watch any longer, Seong Muyeon threw himself to the ground.

“Ow! I’m dying!”

Sprawled out flat, he shut his eyes and stuck out his tongue like he was dead. The crowd murmured in confusion. It was the worst acting anyone had ever seen.

What the heck?

Is this guy nuts?

Did he just drop dead?

The whispers surrounded him, but Seong Muyeon didn’t budge.

To anyone else, it was absurd.

But to Baek Ryeoil? It was the perfect cure.

“Seong Muyeon?”

Finally, Baek Ryeoil reacted. Peeking through half-open eyes, Seong could see the man visibly shaken. The tension in the air began to deflate.

To seal the deal, Seong Muyeon forced himself to cough violently.

“Cough! Hrk… hack!”

That was enough for Baek Ryeoil to let go of the Jongnam disciple’s collar.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

“Maybe a little… or maybe not… I dunno…”

“Make up your mind! Are you sick or not? You sound fine! Just wait—let me deal with this punk first—”

“Aaaagh! I’m dying! Hrrrrggkk! See? I’m practically coughing up my lungs here!”

As Seong Muyeon exaggerated his coughing fit like he was about to keel over, Baek Ryeoil finally turned away from the Jongnam group and walked toward him.

Yes! It worked!

Seong Muyeon waited until Baek Ryeoil was close enough, then grabbed onto his forearm.

“Please save me…”

And with that, he let his head drop limp, like he had passed out. The crowd even began to wonder if he was truly sick. Alarmed, Baek Ryeoil’s heart dropped. He quickly picked Seong up in his arms and bolted from the scene without a second glance.

“Hey! Where are you going?!”

The Jongnam disciples, left behind like discarded sacks of barley, shouted after him, but their voices didn’t reach Baek Ryeoil.

“Master! What’s going on? What happened to the prince?”

Kang Ung, who had arrived late, spotted them and followed.

“Damn it, I don’t know either.”

Worry gnawed at Kang Ung’s chest. He wondered why his master was carrying the sick man back to his quarters instead of taking him to the medical ward, but he stayed quiet and followed.

Once they reached Baek Ryeoil’s quarters, a gentle patting on his chest made him look down. There was Seong Muyeon, eyes wide open.

“You can put me down now.”

The two martial artists simply stared in disbelief as Seong casually climbed down and stood up perfectly fine.

Footnotes:

1. Dojang (도장) – Refers to a martial arts school or training hall; in this case, it’s also used as a title, like “master of the Yuun Sword Dojang.” 
2. Sahyung (사형) – A respectful term for a senior male disciple in the same sect. 
3. Repentance Hall (참회동) – A disciplinary place where members of a sect reflect on their wrongdoings, often by confinement or meditation. 
4. Bi-mu (비무) – A formal martial arts duel. 
5. The Demonic Sect (마교) – Often used in martial arts novels to represent an evil or rival faction. Being from this group usually means you’re mistrusted or feared.