HDCLSSRS Ch 103

Chapter 103 So It Turned Out That Way (2)

He didn’t even have to think about it. In truth, he had always disliked how Seong Muyeon would collapse at the slightest provocation.

〈…〉

He opened his mouth confidently, but found himself unable to answer so easily, his lips soundlessly parting and closing. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to help Seong Muyeon.

Ever since becoming conscious of his feelings toward him, merely thinking about Muyeon had been painful for Baek Ryeoil. Chaos had consumed his mind, and whenever it did, he found himself incapable of taking any action at all.

Seeing his hesitation, Yakseon let out a short laugh.

〈Of course. It’s only natural to hesitate at the thought of helping the son of the Demonic Cult⁽¹⁾. Once you’ve made up your mind, bring him here. I’ll be staying right here.〉

She had completely misunderstood his reaction.

For Baek Ryeoil—already shaken and confused—her words sounded exactly like telling him to come back after fully accepting his feelings for Seong Muyeon.

“…”

Coming back to himself, Baek Ryeoil stared blankly at the ceiling.

Unable to bear the suffocating frustration, he left Unrimdang⁽²⁾ and—without anyone’s prompting—found himself heading toward Chamhoe-dong⁽³⁾. No matter how long he sat in meditation, he could not put his chaotic thoughts in order.

In this condition, even a simple energy circulation exercise could allow a Simma⁽⁴⁾ to take hold, dragging him into Juhwaipma⁽⁵⁾.

Baek Ryeoil had to decide.

To accept Seong Muyeon—or to reject him.

The decision had to be clear and final. This was not a simple matter of whether or not he liked someone. If left unresolved, his life as a martial artist was certain to be plagued with endless tribulations.

He now realized—Seong Muyeon’s very existence was like that of an outlaw come to uproot his entire life.

He was the son of the Demonic Cult Leader, and a man who had deceived him multiple times. They were of natures as incompatible as water and oil.

How could he possibly hold such a person in his heart?

Yet, at the mere thought of Muyeon, a sharp pain stabbed at his chest. Just by becoming aware of his own feelings, his heart was shamelessly pounding out of control.

Baek Ryeoil buried his face deep into the crook of his arm.

On the morning of the year’s final day, Seong Muyeon awoke to an unusual sensation in his lower body, and lifted the blanket.

“…”

At full attention—his center was standing tall.

Maybe it happened to others often, but for him, this was rare. Even before his illness worsened, he’d had a low sex drive, and after his condition had deteriorated, the frequency of morning erections had dropped to the point that he had forgotten such a thing could even happen.

But thanks to recent regular routines, exercise, and nutrition, he had recovered some measure of health—and it seemed his long dormant bodily vigor was beginning to rouse again.

Troublesome.

Letting out a light sigh, Seong Muyeon wrapped one hand around his vigorous shaft.

Shhh, shhh…

It had truly been ages since he’d secretly pleasured himself, away from others’ eyes.

“Haa…”

He exhaled a deep breath, feeling the familiar yet strangely foreign sensation within his grasp. Recently, it had always been Baek Ryeoil’s touch, and that difference was stark.

His own hand, compared to Baek Ryeoil’s, was slimmer, weaker.

He could vividly recall the feeling of those thick, calloused fingers coiling around him—firm yet controlled, never too hard or too soft, steadily building the pressure until it drove him to climax.

“…Hhhng…”

That memory drew him into a sticky, lingering recollection of their times together, and his eyes lost focus, hazing over.

When he couldn’t take it anymore and came, Baek Ryeoil would keep milking him, coating his hand thoroughly in the thick, sticky fluid until there was nothing more to give. Then that damp hand would travel lower, lower still, sliding between the intimate cleft of his rear.

“Hhhht…!”

At that thought, Seong Muyeon spurted viscous white fluid into his palm. A prolonged period of abstinence made it thicker and more copious than usual.

As the intense edge of climax faded and the languid afterglow set in, he tilted his head slightly.

What is this… this unsatisfying aftertaste?

By all rights, he should feel relieved now, having reached completion—but instead, there was a lingering sense of incompleteness.

Damn it. Don’t tell me…

Was it because of Baek Ryeoil?

Until recently, Baek Ryeoil would pounce on him whenever their eyes met, and every one of their couplings was an unbroken series of fierce sensations that left him near to losing consciousness. Stimulating both front and back at the same time, pushing him to the very limits—had he grown so accustomed to that, that now such a paltry solo act couldn’t possibly satisfy him?

The thought chilled his chest.

At this rate, he feared he might reach a point where he couldn’t be content with ordinary acts anymore—where he might actually start doing something as unspeakable as pleasuring himself there.

No! I don’t want that!

Hastily, Seong Muyeon wiped his hand clean and erased all traces.

This wasn’t right.

All he had wanted was to survive. To say he hadn’t enjoyed those acts would be a lie—but he had no desire to become one of those pleasure-chasers from some erotic street novel, unable to escape from constant indulgence in lust.

Shaking his head violently, he forced those dreadful thoughts away.

Soon, these worries would be over.

Once his illness was cured, he wouldn’t have to cling to Baek Ryeoil’s co—no, charity.

Everything would return to normal.

Consoling himself with that thought, he left Chujeongjae as the sun set and night approached.

Although Kang Ung, Seomun Yuha, and many other disciples had gone down the mountain, plenty of people remained at Mount Hua, and a banquet to ring in the New Year was in preparation.

Large tables had been set up in the central plaza, with makeshift braziers sending white steam and smoke into the sky. The place bustled like a busy marketplace.

“Happy New Year!”

“Come sit here, Young Master.”

As he exchanged greetings, Seong Muyeon’s eyes roamed the crowd.

…Not here.

He had thought Baek Ryeoil would surely show up for the banquet, but of course, he was absent.

“Ma Dojang!”

Seong Muyeon spotted Ma Jincheon surrounded by people and went to him. The man greeted him warmly.

“Young Lord Seong, Happy New Year.”

“You too, Dojang. By the way, have you seen Baek Dojang?”

“Ryeoil? Just a little while ag—”

But at that moment, a disciple came running.

“Senior! The Sect Leader is calling you.”

“I’m on my way. The banquet is starting soon, so Young Lord, go find yourself a seat.”

As Ma Jincheon hurried off, Seong Muyeon was left standing alone. Judging from the elders and the Sect Leader taking their seats of honor, the banquet would begin shortly.

After some thought, he turned away.

He realized there was one more person spending the holiday alone.

Outside the plaza, the rest of Mount Hua was as silent as an abandoned ruin—not a single ant in sight, everyone gathered for the feast.

The guest hall was even quieter. Coming in from the lively streets, it felt almost foreboding.

This time, Yakseon’s door was unlocked. Seong Muyeon knocked.

“Great One, are you in?”

Opening the door, a strong scent of alcohol assaulted his nose. She sat alone in the dim room, drinking, the table crowded with empty bottles.

“The banquet will start soon. I came to fetch you.”

“Forget it. I’m not going.”

She waved a dismissive hand, her tongue sluggish with drink. Seong Muyeon shook his head.

“What?”

When he sat down across from her, Yakseon asked irritably.

“I’ll just stay here with you.”

“Suit yourself.”

With no food to accompany it, she poured liquor straight into her empty stomach. Baek Ryeoil drank too, but the two were different—he drank to enjoy the taste, whereas she drank as if fighting the alcohol itself, like an enemy to be conquered. One glass after another, with no sign of pleasure in it.

“Let me ask you something.”

Setting the bottle down with a thunk, she spoke.

“Go ahead.”

Her half-lidded eyes fixed on him.

“What do you think of your father?”

“…”

“I just can’t understand how you can be so shameless. You can’t possibly be ignorant of the things Seong Hyukgwang did to establish the Demonic Cult.”

Yakseon harbored deep hatred toward the Demonic Cult—something he knew from the original story. But he didn’t know exactly what had happened between her and Seong Hyukgwang.

After the Demonic Cult’s annihilation, she had vanished somewhere, just like Baek Ryeoil, never to appear again.

As the son of the cult leader, it might not be wise to involve himself with someone like her.

But—

“Then what should I do?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. So tell me, Great One—what exactly should I do?”

“…”

“My father’s crimes are unforgivable—that’s a fact I can’t deny.”

He continued in a calm voice.

“But should I go around to every single person he wronged, bow my head, and beg their forgiveness?”

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible, but…

Yakseon’s face twisted. The two of them had managed to get along, leaving problems aside these past days, but ignoring them didn’t make them vanish. If they weren’t addressed, they would eventually erupt.

Before she could get riled up, Seong Muyeon pressed on.

“I’m not saying we should argue about who’s right or wrong. I’m speaking realistically. Even knowing it was wrong, there was nothing I could do. I can’t change the Demonic Cult. How could one person possibly do that?”

“…”

“I’ll think only of survival. One must live first before planning what comes next.”

“Hah!” Yakseon gave a short, derisive laugh.

“So you do plan to do something?”

And in that instant, she saw it.

Deep within his eyes—sharp, vicious fury. It was only for the briefest moment, but unmistakable.

A rage and killing intent she knew all too well.

Unexpected.

Seong Muyeon had always seemed gentle, even willing to kneel and beg others without hesitation. Aside from the eerily similar face, one would never think him one of the Sect Leader’s seven sons.

But right now, his gaze was that of the man’s son indeed—or even equal to the cult leader himself—in cruelty.

Of course. That’s the blood of Seong Hyukgwang.

notes:

¹ Demonic Cult (마교) – A primary antagonistic sect in wuxia settings, often associated with cruel or “unorthodox” martial practices.

² Unrimdang (운림당) – Likely a hall or residence used for cultivation or administration within the sect; exact nature depends on story setting.

³ Chamhoe-dong (참회동) – Literally “Hall of Repentance”; a place for self-reflection, repentance, or meditation.

⁴ Simma (심마) – A state of mental deviation where stray, impure thoughts disrupt martial cultivation, potentially dangerous.

⁵ Juhwaipma (주화입마) – A serious cultivation deviation; “possessed by inner demons”; can cripple or kill a martial artist if not resolved.