HDCLSSRS Ch 48

Chapter 48 Expert in Disappearances and Abductions (3)

 

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Baek Ryeoil was on the verge of death after copying out the thick Daoist scripture ten times. It was a relief he didn’t have to transcribe the entire Taepyeong Cheongnyeong Scripture, which had 170 volumes in total. This time, he only had to copy 132 volumes.

“Ugh… I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s what you get for misbehaving. You brought this upon yourself.”

Seong Muyeon, lying on the bed, scolded him in a hoarse voice. He was wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, resembling a silkworm cocoon. That day, he had gotten completely drenched in the cold rain and fallen ill.

“Master… may I help you a little?”

Kang Ung was fidgeting anxiously. Despite having a mountain of studies of his own, he seemed unable to just sit by while his deeply respected master wore his arm out writing.

“…But do you two really have to do this in such a cramped room? Please, leave.”

“Ahem. You must’ve forgotten that the bed you’re lying on, the blanket covering you, and the pillow under your head all belong to me.”

“Cough, cough… Disgusting and petty.”

In the end, Baek Ryeoil threw down his brush. He leaned back deeply in his chair with his arms behind his head and muttered,

“Strangely quiet, isn’t it?”

Though he left the subject unsaid, Seong Muyeon understood who he was referring to. Since that incident, Jang Hansu hadn’t done anything. In fact, he’d barely shown himself at all. Since recovering from the aftermath of his qi deviation was his top priority, they hadn’t worried too much at first—but as days passed without word, it started to feel odd.

“Who knows. Maybe he meant what he said. Cough… Perhaps he really was being magnanimous for once and thinking of Mount Hua’s benefit…”

Kang Ung, glancing between the two adults, quietly picked up the dropped brush. Then he began copying the scripture in Baek Ryeoil’s stead.

“Jang Hansu? You don’t know him.”

Baek Ryeoil, who had grown up as a fellow disciple alongside him, knew him well. Since their first year after joining the sect, Jang Hansu had frequently clashed with Baek Ryeoil. He seemed to regard him as a personal rival.

He was the kind who wore a mask of kindness and smiled on the surface while picking fights behind your back. Unlike Baek Ryeoil, who didn’t know how to curry favor, Jang Hansu was someone who could sweet-talk elders like candies in his mouth.

Seong Muyeon wasn’t particularly worried.

After all, in the original story, Jang Hansu was one of the characters who played the role of a hero. He had never oppressed the weak nor acted contrary to virtue.

However, his hatred toward the Demonic Cult was genuine…

He would probably make things difficult for him.

“Kang Ung, what are you doing?”

Baek Ryeoil yelled sternly upon discovering Kang Ung copying the scripture. Startled, Kang Ung dropped the brush.

“S-s-sorry… I just wanted to support my master as a good disciple should…”

“Your handwriting’s completely different. If you do it like this, your senior master will notice right away. Write it messier. More roughly. Yeah, like that! Good job.”

Blushing with pride at his master’s praise, Kang Ung’s cheeks turned red.

Seong Muyeon was speechless. The pure, snow-white boy was now being tainted dark…

“I’ll report this to Master Ma Jincheon… cough!”

“If you don’t value your life, go ahead and try.”

Baek Ryeoil growled viciously. But perhaps worried that Kang Ung really might tell Ma Jincheon, he sent him away. However, he didn’t forget to hand him brush and paper to take along.

‘The kind and innocent Master Kang… no, don’t fall!’

Yet Seong Muyeon, lacking the energy to argue, could only let it happen.

“Please… even if Master Baek is a hopeless case, Master Kang is a rising star just beginning to bloom. Don’t corrupt him.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Have you forgotten why you’re being punished? Not everyone in the world lives recklessly like you, Master.”

Baek Ryeoil scoffed through his nose, as if the remark was absurd.

“Worry about yourself. You’re in no position to lecture others when you fall apart just from getting caught in the rain.”

“You’re just… cough… exceptionally sturdy, Master.”

Even his coughs were weak to the point of pity.

Baek Ryeoil clicked his tongue in annoyance and stormed out. Not long after, he returned with a small brazier. He placed charcoal inside and soon warm heat gently filled the air.

Seong Muyeon hugged the brazier, basking in its warmth, when a sudden thought made him uneasy.

“Don’t tell me you stole this too?”

“What kind of person do you think I am?!”

“A thief.”

“…”

Previously, the bathtub Baek Ryeoil had provided also turned out to be stolen. If he had taken it from disciples or juniors, that would be one thing—but knowing Baek Ryeoil’s usual behavior, it wouldn’t be surprising if he had filched it from senior instructors or elders.

“No, this one was lying around in the storage room. And for the record, I’m seriously offended, alright? What private property is there in the Daoist sect anyway? That guy’s just overly particular. What, is he planning to carry his wealth on his back when he ascends to immortality? What a joke.”

The mood flipped in an instant. As Baek Ryeoil grumbled on, he suddenly fell quiet and glanced slyly at Seong Muyeon. A sly glint crossed his eyes.

“But hey… I wonder if bedroom arts still work when you have a cold?”

“Don’t even dream about it.”

Seong Muyeon cut him off instantly.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Cheh.”

Seong Muyeon clung to the brazier, pressing himself against the wall. He had not the slightest intention of going through the pain of having his butt split again.

A few days later, Seong Muyeon came to learn a little about Jang Hansu’s intentions.

It was not long after he had fully recovered from his cold and returned to work in the Treasury Department.

When he opened the door to the department, the people who should’ve been buried in ledgers, looking like they’d been tortured since dawn, were nowhere to be seen.

“Huh?”

It didn’t take him long to find them.

Mount Hua’s main gate was wide enough to let dozens walk shoulder to shoulder, and it was now packed with disciples.

He wondered why everyone was making such a fuss so early in the morning, when suddenly, a loud voice of a middle-aged woman roared from the center of the crowd.

“Bring out the sect leader!”

The person she was pointing at was none other than Mount Hua’s First Elder. With a beard turned white as snow, the First Elder was in the same generation as the sect leader.

In contrast, the middle-aged woman looked to be in her forties or fifties at most. Far too young to be wagging a finger at her senior.

“Madam Seomun, please calm down. The sect leader is very busy with affairs of the sect…”

She was the wife of the Seomun Clan. At a glance, she was dressed in fine silk, glittering with all manner of jewels like a noblewoman. Behind her stood several fierce-looking martial artists like bodyguards, guarding her like divine generals.

“I told you already! I only need that young man! Just hand him over!”

“Instead of this, why don’t you send a formal request, no matter the matter…”

“Forget that! Either the sect leader or that young man shows up in front of me, or things will get ugly!”

Among the mass of similar-looking heads, Seong Muyeon spotted Wang Hojun and his fellow disciples. He approached them slowly.

“Master, what on earth is going on?”

“Oh, don’t even ask. That madam showed up at the crack of dawn demanding to see a Demonic Cult noble… W-wait, noble?!”

Only then did he see Seong Muyeon’s face and quickly covered his mouth. He pushed Seong Muyeon’s head down, making him bow.

“Shh! Stay hidden. Can’t you tell? She says she’s looking for a noble, but it clearly doesn’t seem like she has good intentions.”

Seong Muyeon nodded rapidly. He even curled himself up, as if ready to dig a hole in the ground and hide.

Life in Mount Hua had already been chaotic enough—he had no intention of getting involved in another troublesome affair.

Seeing his proactive attitude, Wang Hojun released his hand from Seong Muyeon’s mouth.

“…So why is she looking for me?”

“She didn’t say. Just started throwing a fit demanding we hand you over…”

Wang Hojun shook his head in disbelief.

“The Seomun Clan has recently made a name for themselves with their sword techniques. On top of that, they run a major trading guild. Even if they’re riding high, to behave like this… what a disgrace.”

He clenched his fists in anger.

No matter how powerful the Seomun Clan was, they weren’t even one of the Five Great Clans. Even if the head of the Namgung or Tang family showed up, they would still need to show respect to an elder—yet here she was, pointing fingers.

Whether her attitude was mere bluster or not, Seong Muyeon could easily guess that if she got her hands on him, he wouldn’t even have bones left to bury.

‘She’s not even afraid of Mount Hua’s sect leader. How easy must the Seventh Prince of the Demonic Cult seem to her?’

The fact that the Seventh Prince was staying at Mount Hua was an open secret—known by some, unknown to others. If the news had reached Madam Seomun’s ears, then it was safe to assume that anyone with ties to the martial world knew about it now.