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    Chapter 114 The Sixth Young Master (6)

    “Let go! I said, let go!”

    The Sixth Young Master thrashed madly, but despite his struggles, he could not break free from Kang Ung’s grip. Small in stature though the boy was, his strength was unyielding.

    “I’ve caught him!”

    “Well done.”

    Bang Gyeom, too, had been subdued by Baek Ryeoil and dragged forward.

    Seong Muyeon approached leisurely, crouching down by his disheveled elder brother.

    “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Brother?”

    “Seong Muyeon! What are you doing here?!”

    “Why, of course I came to find you, Brother.”

    “To… find me?”

    Mujai swept the situation with rapid calculation: Baek Ryeoil standing firm, Bang Gyeom disarmed and restrained, and his younger brother before him.

    “…You came prepared, then.”

    With a look of resignation, he ceased his resistance. He gave his younger sibling a long, searching glance.

    “…I heard word you’d been captured by the Mount Hua Sect. What happened?”

    “I should be asking you instead. What happened that you would murder Fourth Brother? Is it true?”

    “Would I ever?! Never!” Mujai roared in rage.

    “Then why did you flee?”

    “You don’t understand… you know nothing… nothing of why I had to.”

    “…Was it because of that item?”

    From this, Mujai’s face darkened. His eyes darted nervously—his agitation plain.

    “Hah… So that’s it? You’ve hunted me down for the item? Come to take it from me?”

    What on earth could it be that makes him like this…?

    Though Muyeon himself did not even know what “the item” was, he betrayed no hint of ignorance before his brother. He pressed again.

    “…Where is it?”

    “I don’t know. I don’t have it. Kill me or don’t, it’s up to you.”

    Mujai shut his eyes, surrendering with apparent resignation.

    Kang Ung and Muyeon searched his body. Nothing. The same for Bang Gyeom.

    Baek Ryeoil shook his head grimly.

    “Nothing.”

    They even turned the hovel upside down, but found only dust and refuse—no trace of any so-called item.

    “Hmph. Go ahead and keep searching. Ransack all the Central Plains if you must. You’ll never lay your hands on it.”

    Mujai sneered, even while gripped firmly by Kang Ung.

    Muyeon fought to still the boiling anger in his chest. He had never expected cooperation, but still…

    “Enough. I’ll handle this.” Baek Ryeoil said flatly.

    “Urgh!”

    He slammed Bang Gyeom to the ground, then pressed a boot down firmly on his right wrist.

    “If you don’t care whether he ever wields a sword again, then by all means—keep your mouth shut.”

    “P-Please, don’t! Young Master! I-I can endure—aaagh!”

    As Baek pressed harder, Bang Gyeom writhed in pain. Mujai struggled violently.

    “What are you doing! Release him!”

    “Pay me no heed, Young Master! Don’t worry about me—!”

    Shouts filled the cabin.

    Seong Muyeon looked on at Mujai’s desperate thrashing. The fact was, the brothers had never been close; no new pity stirred in him now.

    Baek Ryeoil’s method was efficient. Even if Mujai and Bang Gyeom were left broken and battered, he was sure to wrench the truth out.

    But still…

    “Dojang, stop.”

    Ryeoil turned, brows knitting, eyes questioning.

    Muyeon let out a deep sigh. Though part of him too wished fervently to secure his cure, even at such costs, he lowered himself, sitting cross-legged loosely before his brother.

    “…Brother. I did not come here to harm you. I need that item. And I need you.”

    “…What? What are you saying…”

    Mujai blinked, visibly unsettled by the sudden shift.

    This wasn’t something to be resolved in one quick threat. They had to bring him back to Mount Hua, and deliver him before Yakseon.

    “I didn’t come chasing you because I covet the item, nor to torment you. To be honest, I don’t even know what it is. But you’ve surely heard the name—the famed master of pharmacology, Yakseon So Jayoung.”

    “…”

    “She promised—if I brought the item, she would craft me medicine. And for my treatment, your blood as my kin is a necessary part. That is why I’m here. To ask for your help.”

    It wasn’t plea by emotion—it was proposition.

    “If you return with us to Mount Hua, you won’t need to live like this anymore. Once the medicine is finished, we can even arrange for you accommodations.”

    His voice was steady, cold, devoid of warmth. Appeals to affection would never work. They had never lived by bonds.

    Thus, Muyeon chose negotiation.

    If you give me this, then in return, I will give you that.

    Mujai rolled his eyes wildly, weighing his odds. He wasn’t stupid. He knew there was no path of escape here.

    And with nothing left in hand, his only bargaining chip was to extract some “honor of helping.”

    He made his decision swiftly.

    “…Very well. I’ll aid you. As elder brother, what could be more fitting than helping heal one’s younger sibling? I will stand by you.”

    Then, curling his lips, he added with haughty arrogance:

    “On the condition you guarantee my safety, and Bang Gyeom’s as well. Decent meals and lodgings too. Surely you can grant that much in return for my generous aid?”

    Though he knew full well it was Muyeon’s staged illusion of choice, he showed no hint of meekness. His cunning was nothing to scoff at.

    At the rapid flip of posture, Muyeon let out a hollow laugh.

    “Fine. So then—where’s the item?”

    “Kept safe… in a place none would suspect.”

    Mujai smirked.

    They returned to Biyeonmun⁽1⁞ at once. Mujai and Bang Gyeom were half-starved, their bodies in poor state after days in the collapsing shack.

    “…Where did you say it was hidden?”

    Muyeon repeated, not trusting his own ears, for Mujai had mumbled around a mouthful of food, stuffing himself shamelessly.

    “In the gambling hall.”

    “…What? Why there?”

    “Because no one could just walk in. There’s a secluded chamber—only those personally invited by the master are permitted.”

    “And if someone else took it first?”

    “Tch. Impossible. No one knows! Absolutely impossible, I tell you!”

    Another problem arose.

    “…Which means we’ll have to return to the tavern master.”

    “Of course.”

    “And the hundred taels of gold you owe him?”

    Mujai scoffed.

    “Forget that petty sum.”

    “…I don’t have such money.”

    “What?! Then what did you come all this way for?”

    “…What exactly do you think I came here for?”

    “I asked first!”

    “Did you think I came just to pay your debts for you?!”

    The bickering of brothers was loud enough to draw Baek Ryeoil’s dry remark.

    “…Kang Ung, I wouldn’t know, being an only child—is that how all siblings are?”

    “Yes. Exactly so.”

    “…Thank heavens I have none.”

    Kang Ung too stared anew at the parallel. Scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh robes, Mujai looked nearly the twin of Muyeon—save for the sharper eyes and crooked sneer, like an ill-tempered version of his younger brother.

    “Stop nattering about money! I’ll handle it myself. You think I’ve no way?” he shouted.

    “…Don’t tell me—your plan is to gamble your way out of debt?” Muyeon asked in suspicion.

    Mujai fell silent, a guilty pause enough to confirm it.

    “…We’ll slip in, seize the item, and get out. Quickly. That’s the only way.”

    Thus ended their argument. A temporary truce. They would rest tonight, and in the morning, go to confront the tavern master.

    Rooms were granted for Mujai and Bang Gyeom. Muyeon shared quarters with Ryeoil.

    All the while, Muyeon eyed the door his brother had entered.

    …Should I tie him up with rope?

    When Ryeoil had once bound him, it had only felt humiliating. But in this position—worrying Mujai might try escape—he found the thought unexpectedly reasonable.

    Any spare rope lying around…?

    As he glanced about, the creak of a door caught him. Bang Gyeom emerged stealthily, shutting it carefully behind. He looked earnestly at Muyeon.

    Moving aside to a secluded spot, he spoke quietly.

    “…Seventh Prince, truly, will you guarantee our safety?”

    Unexpected words. For a servant to address him thus was rare enough, to voice such questions even rarer. By strict custom, a subordinate had no right to speak where the master was silent.

    “…Do with me as you see fit. But the Sixth Prince… my Lord…”

    He cast a glance at Mujai’s darkened chamber.

    “I daresay, meeting you may be the best thing that could have happened. For weeks, my Lord has reached the end of his strength. His pride forbids him to say it, but after being driven out of Seonwollu, he has not eaten nor slept properly—his suffering has been constant…”

    “What is it you truly wish to say?”

    “I know we’ve earned no trust. And even I, speaking thus, cannot entirely trust you either. The Cult has ever been this way, hasn’t it?”

    Muyeon could hardly disagree.

    Yes, that was the way of the Demonic Cult. Bonds and affection between kin were never to be expected.

    Bang Gyeom hesitated, then added—

    “But please, I beg you—trust my Lord just this once. I swear he will not flee. Even should he command it, I myself will stay his hand. So, please…”

    He bent low in a deep bow.

    “…I entrust my Lord—the Sixth Prince—into your care.”

    Footnotes:

    1. Biyeonmun (비연문) – One of Huashan’s affiliated branches (sok-gamun, “subsidiary house”), hosting disciples and offering resources to itinerant Huashan members. 

     

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