HDCLSSRS Ch 110

Chapter 110 The Sixth Young Master (2)

 

Even though persistently demanding someone’s name when they were clearly reluctant to show their face was against the norms of courtesy, the Wudang Sect disciples did not relent.

They already know who I am.

If a mysterious young noble was wandering together with Baek Ryeoil, it was only natural to be suspicious. And Seong Muyeon’s evasive behavior must have only strengthened their conviction.

He let out a sigh.

I hadn’t wanted to stir up any unnecessary trouble…

Knowing they’d already taken note of him, hiding further would only attract more suspicion. He was about to step forward when Baek Ryeoil moved first.

“Forgive us, but we have pressing matters to attend to, so we’ll take our leave.”

With his hand, Ryeoil gently guided Muyeon out of Wudang’s line of sight.

While the Wudang disciples stammered at the suddenness of his action, the three quickly widened the distance. Muyeon dared not even glance back, following Ryeoil hurriedly.

Only once they were far enough did he risk looking back over his shoulder. The Wudang disciples stood still, watching them with eyes filled with meaning.

Thankfully, there was no indication they intended to pursue.

“That nearly turned into an incident.”

“Don’t wander alone. You never know what excuse they’ll seize upon.”

“Yes…”

Drifting about alone under the watchful eyes of orthodox sect warriors⁽¹⁾ was like throwing oneself into a tiger’s den.

“Don’t worry, Young Lord Seong! I’ll protect you without fail!”

Kang Ung cried out with enthusiasm. Muyeon patted his head.

Not long after, the three arrived at a modest manor situated a little apart from the main street.

“Welcome, welcome. The Sect Leader told us to expect you. We’ve prepared rooms for your stay, please follow me.”

The disciples of Biyeonmun⁽²⁾ were visibly excited to host guests from the main sect. Under the sect master’s guidance, the trio made their way inside, receiving no small amount of curious stares along the way.

At their request, it wasn’t long before fresh clothing was brought to them.

How exactly am I supposed to approach this tavern master…?

As Ryeoil and Kang Ung changed into their new attire, Muyeon pondered hard. A tavern owner wealthy and influential enough to run such an establishment would not grant audience freely to just anyone. And if he was harboring a prince of the Demonic Cult, then he certainly wasn’t a man overly troubled by morality…

Creak.

At the sound of the door opening, Muyeon looked up.

“Dojang, I’ve drawn up a—”

Standing there was Baek Ryeoil in plain martial robes, neither his usual dark Mount Hua attire nor the austere colors Muyeon always associated with him. The light-colored garments, bright and neat, made his features even more striking. His slender waist was cinched tightly with a silk sash, and at his hip hung his sword.

“…Seong Muyeon?”

“Yes?”

“What’s the plan?”

Muyeon started, realizing he’d been staring.

It wasn’t as though he’d never seen Ryeoil in different clothes—when they first met, Ryeoil had disguised himself while approaching him. Yet this time, without realizing it, he’d been caught gazing distractedly at the unfamiliar air Ryeoil exuded.

“A-Ah, I was saying—I have a rough plan worked out…”

Forcing down the sudden stirring in his chest, Muyeon began to explain.

By nightfall, the tavern streets thrummed with life. Crowds surged, seeking drink, filling the air with warm light and chatter.

Looking up, Muyeon saw Seonwollu⁽³⁾—tallest and gaudiest among them all.

“You must silently follow my lead. Do not say a single word. From this moment, you two are my hired bodyguards. Understood?”

Turning to the two standing behind him, Muyeon repeated his warning. In their well-tailored garments and with swords at their sides, Ryeoil and Kang Ung did not look like Huashan disciples at all but rather competent retainers of a wealthy family. The discerning eye of Biyeonmun’s master had proven excellent.

Resolved, Muyeon crossed into the tavern.

The first floor’s common hall was slowly filling with ordinary townsfolk coming to drink. A serving boy darted over, bowing deeply.

“Welcome, esteemed guests—!”

“An upstairs private room.”

Muyeon slapped down a piece of silver without preamble. The boy’s eyes went wide at the gleam.

“O-Of course! Right this way!”

Groveling with delight, he led them upstairs.

“What are you doing, throwing money around?” Ryeoil muttered under his breath behind him.

Muyeon only shrugged.

The Ryeoil he knew would’ve marched in, fists flying, until he’d attracted the attention of ever tougher opponents and more important figures—until eventually, the master himself showed. It might have worked, but with secrecy required this time, it was too dangerous.

Soon they were seated in an opulent room.

“Please wait but a moment.”

The boy skipped off. Before long, the chief manager of Seonwollu arrived in haste, plastering on his best merchant’s smile.

“An honor to have you here! We’ll see that tonight you have the finest time possible.”

Even musicians and courtesans came pouring in, but Muyeon waved them off.

“No songs. I seek a quiet drink.”

“A-Ah! As you wish, of course!”

The manager began recommending dishes and wines. Muyeon ordered exactly as pointed out. The man’s grin only widened at the thought of his profit.

With drinks poured and food laid out, Muyeon lifted a cup toward him.

“I’ve no companions to drink with. Join me for one?”

“Ah, you honor me.” He poured courteously. Muyeon accepted, all while flicking his gaze backward.

Sure enough, Baek Ryeoil, leaning against the wall in perfect bodyguard role, was eyeing the wine with obvious longing.

When Muyeon lifted the filled cup, Ryeoil arched a brow knowingly, and Muyeon sheepishly set it down again.

One round of wine was enough for the mood to ease. Time to press forward. As another dish was placed, Muyeon broached delicately,

“Is the proprietor here tonight?”

The manager stiffened ever so slightly. Out the corner of his eye, Muyeon saw the man’s face falter. He affected calm, pouring anew, handing a cup to Ryeoil.

“Sit, both of you.”

“Yes, sir!”

Grabbing at the chance, Ryeoil sat without hesitation and downed the drink. And as the apprentice always followed the master, Kang Ung soon leaned in hungrily toward the wine jug, only for Muyeon to shove a fruit plate into his hands.

“…And why do you seek him?” the manager asked cautiously at last.

Mid-bite, Muyeon’s hand froze in midair.

“…Do I look as though I came to answer your questions?”

The man bowed hastily.

“N-No, forgive me. I’ll report to the master, but of late he rarely meets with guests…”

“Tell him I’ve come for someone. Deliver that, and nothing else.”

“Yes, of course. Please enjoy yourself.”

After dismissing the attendants as well, Ryeoil remarked once they were alone—

“You seem practiced at this sort of thing.”

Eagerly slurping wine directly from the jug before anyone could stop him, he tilted it casually.

“Not at all. This is my first attempt.”

“Then why so smooth? You handle people well.”

“Isn’t it rather that Dojang has grown too pampered? You’ve always been treated softly because you wore Huashan colors.”

“Me? Pampered? Absurd.”

Muyeon tugged the jug from his hands and poured into a cup instead.

“Being coddled in a different way, really—walking around under Huashan’s badge. Who would dare challenge you?”

His tone grew pointed.

“People like that manager are all the same. They bow first to strength and wealth, no matter the truth. Tools at their disposal always serve appearances first.”

He smacked Kang Ung’s hand away again and replaced the jug with fruit before continuing.

“By now, that manager will have scurried off to report: ‘A powerful guest arrived. Wealthy, with skilled guards. But no name given, and no clear purpose…’”

“And then?” Ryeoil asked.

“Then the master’s mind will race. Guilt breeds paranoia. He won’t know who we are, and his first thoughts will be the worst. The only way to confirm—”

Thud, thud, thud!

Heavy, urgent footsteps resounded until the voice came from outside—

“The Master is here.”

“…See? He had to come verify himself.”

Kang Ung clapped quietly in admiration. Muyeon smirked and raised his voice.

“Invite him in.”

Creak.

The door slid open, and there the tavern master stood, eyes wide and flashing with suspicion—then softening in relief as he realized it was no one from his deepest fears. But just as quickly, his expression twisted in irritation.

“And who are you to—”

He stopped.

Spotting Seong Muyeon, he inhaled sharply, as though staring at a ghost.

“Why do you falter, Master? Does my face look somehow familiar?”

And so it would. Muyeon and Seong Mujai had always been said to closely resemble their father.

Footnotes:

1. Orthodox sect warriors (정파무인, 正派武人) – Martial artists of the so-called “righteous” sects, as opposed to the “unorthodox” or demonic cults. Here implies strict, rigid policing eyes. 
2. Biyeonmun (비연문, 飛燕門) – A “subsidiary clan” (속가문), a martial household descended from Huashan disciples. They serve as local allies in various regions. 
3. Seonwollu (선월루, 仙月樓) – “Immortal Moon Pavilion,” the most lavish tavern in Wuhan, known for its powerful and morally ambiguous owner.