HDCLSSRS Ch 139

Chapter 139 Let’s Go Back(5)

“Are you all right?”

Baek Ryeoil’s face had turned pale, and he was fidgeting anxiously, raising and lowering his hands, unable to decide what to do. The sight of his flustered expression was so comical that Seong Muyeon couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“Of course.”

He smiled gently.

Even without anyone’s help, even if he were utterly alone, Seong Muyeon would have endured to the end.

He slipped an arm around Baek Ryeoil’s neck, pulling him close and pressing a light kiss to his lips. Baek Ryeoil froze like a statue for a moment, then slowly wrapped his arms around Seong Muyeon’s waist.

Outside the window, the faint light of morning was beginning to brighten the sky.

“Let’s go back now.”

He had been fine until now—but he knew that from this moment forward, he would be even better.

Though it was still early morning, the manor was already alive with people beginning their day.

With his complexion fully restored, Seong Muyeon strode in with confidence. A few people who noticed him hesitated mid-step, then quickly pretended not to see and hurried on their way.

“…What’s that about?”

Baek Ryeoil gave a dry snort.

“They all know what’s what. Criticizing you now would be no different from spitting on their own faces.”

His words carried clear mockery. Seong Muyeon, who had been ready to face anyone who dared to accuse him, felt oddly deflated.

But he soon shrugged it off.

Whatever they did no longer mattered to him—because the only person who truly mattered was someone else entirely.

As they neared the room where Kang Ung was waiting, Seong Muyeon’s confident stride began to slow. Stopping before the closed door, he hesitated.

Kang Ung’s last expression lingered painfully in his memory. Perhaps he had disappointed him deeply.

Taking a deep breath, Seong Muyeon finally opened the door—only to be met at once with the sight of two people seated at the parlor table.

Kang Ung shot up the instant he saw who it was. He stared blankly, his eyes wide with disbelief. The dark circles beneath them made it clear he had been waiting there for a long time.

Facing Kang Ung’s trembling lips and quivering expression, Seong Muyeon felt a pang in his chest.

What should he say to explain himself?

“I…”

“Master! Young Master!”

Before Seong Muyeon could finish, Kang Ung dashed forward like lightning and threw his arms around both him and Baek Ryeoil.

“Ugh…”

When Baek Ryeoil groaned, the boy immediately sprang back in alarm.

“S-sorry! Are you all right?”

Clicking his tongue, Baek Ryeoil brushed past and sat down at the table. Kang Ung looked embarrassed but smiled sheepishly at Seong Muyeon.

“Have you eaten yet? If not, I’ll go prepare something right away.”

“Um, Kang Dojang. About yesterday…”

“You don’t have to say anything, really. I already heard… a bit from Lord Bang.”

Kang Ung spoke cautiously, clearly worried that Seong Muyeon might take offense at hearing that someone else had told his story. But when Seong Muyeon simply nodded with his usual gentle expression, relief flooded the boy’s face. He quickly hugged him again.

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Seong Muyeon patted his head softly. Bang Gyeom, who had been standing awkwardly nearby, gave a small nod in greeting. Though his expression was still subdued—unsurprising after being abandoned by his master—he looked better than before.

“Your hand—are you all right?”

“Ah, yes. Thanks to Master Kang’s treatment, it’s fine now.”

When Seong Muyeon asked, he raised his bandaged hand to show him. If he hadn’t blocked that attack, Seong Muyeon might have been gravely injured.

“Kang Ung! Your master’s hungry. Go bring some food.”

“Yes! Just a moment!”

Kang Ung grinned brightly and darted out of the room.

A short while later, the three of them gathered around the table for a meal. Even Bang Gyeom joined, and despite everything that had happened, the atmosphere was unexpectedly peaceful.

While they ate, Kang Ung relayed the news that Jecheon Deok’s body had been sent to the main temple of the Wudang Sect.

Seong Muyeon took in the scene before him carefully, wanting to remember it for a long time.

Bang Gyeom ate slowly, eyes heavy with sorrow that could not be hidden. Kang Ung smiled warmly, glancing between his master and Seong Muyeon. And Baek Ryeoil, pretending to be indifferent, shoveled food into his mouth while quietly pushing the dishes Seong Muyeon liked closer to him.

Life went on, whether one wanted it to or not. Since he had already been born into it, all he could do was endure. But moments like this—peaceful, fleeting, and ordinary—were what gave meaning to the endurance. Without them, the journey might have been too painful to bear.

Because of them, Seong Muyeon found the strength to keep moving forward.

Just as they finished their meal, a servant from the Jegal household arrived, bringing news that the Mount Hua support unit had passed through the city gates.

Together with Baek Ryeoil and Kang Ung, Seong Muyeon went out to the front gate to welcome them.

As expected, the arrival of the renowned Mount Hua Sect drew a crowd of curious onlookers, their murmurs filling the air.

Seong Muyeon’s heart fluttered with anticipation. The thought of meeting familiar faces again amidst this unfamiliar place and people made his pulse quicken.

Moments later, the crowd parted, revealing dozens of Mount Hua disciples. Clad in martial robes embroidered with plum blossoms on their chests, they exuded an aura of disciplined strength, their very presence commanding respect.

As gasps of admiration rippled through the spectators, Seong Muyeon’s face fell slightly in disappointment.

At the forefront, scanning the gathered people with sharp, heavy eyes, stood none other than Sanggeol.

‘Of all people…’

Seong Muyeon pressed a hand to his face. Not only Sanggeol—but the very group from Mount Hua who disliked him most—had come.

“You’ve arrived.”

Jegal Un, who had been waiting to greet them, stepped forward. But before he could continue, Sanggeol’s curt voice cut him off.

“On the way here, I heard the manor was attacked—and that one of our disciples was gravely injured.”

Sanggeol’s expression, usually stern, was even harsher today. The disciples standing in neat rows behind him wore the same rigid look.

“I must check on the disciple’s condition first.”

His impatience was unmistakable. Jegal Un nodded with the calm detachment of a bureaucrat.

“Of course. This way, please…”

But when they spotted Baek Ryeoil and Seong Muyeon, the entire group halted.

Sanggeol’s eyes widened.

“You…”

“Why did you come instead of my master, Elder Sang?”

Baek Ryeoil grumbled in his usual tone, instantly dissolving the heavy tension in the air.

“…What’s this? I heard you were bedridden with injuries, but you look perfectly fine.”

Jang Hansu, standing behind Sanggeol, muttered under his breath. The other disciples exchanged bewildered glances, nodding in agreement.

“Your master is a busy man! The future leader of Mount Hua doesn’t have time to waste on trivial matters like this! We rushed here in such haste and for what…”

Sanggeol’s voice rose in irritation.

Only then did Seong Muyeon notice the dirt clinging to their robes—they had clearly traveled without rest after hearing Baek Ryeoil was hurt.

“I’m honored that you were so worried about me,” Baek Ryeoil replied coolly.

“What nonsense! Who said I was worried about you?! Honestly, you’ll be the death of me!”

Sanggeol’s eyebrows twitched violently, his anger flaring. His fierce gaze shifted next to Seong Muyeon, sweeping over him from head to toe with open disdain.

“You certainly made quite the mess, didn’t you?”

Seong Muyeon had nothing to say. Faced with such towering authority, he simply lowered his eyes in silence. Even Kang Ung fidgeted anxiously, shifting from foot to foot.

“You’ve come a long way,” Jegal Un interjected smoothly. “You must be tired. Please, rest and unpack first—this way.”

Judging by his tone, if he hadn’t stepped in, the argument might have lasted until nightfall. His face showed clear fatigue and annoyance.

“What did your master say?” Baek Ryeoil asked quietly.

“Martial Brother Ma probably doesn’t even know you were injured yet,” came the reply. “Perhaps the carrier pigeon has reached him by now.”

Baek Ryeoil and Sanggeol exchanged a few curt remarks before he turned to lead the group. Seong Muyeon intentionally hung back, keeping his distance from the others.

After all, these were people who already disliked him—and now, after traveling all this way for what they saw as a needless fuss, they were in no mood to be forgiving. Several Mount Hua disciples shot him sharp, unfriendly glances as they passed.

This entire mission had been one Baek Ryeoil could have handled easily on his own. Even he couldn’t deny that things had escalated so far partly because of Seong Muyeon’s involvement.

‘Jecheon Deok’s death… what a pity.’

He silently mourned the man in his heart at last.

Though there were no signs of foul play, Seong Muyeon knew that Jecheon Deok’s fatal injuries had come from the reckless actions of the Ghost-Slaying Corps, obsessed with retrieving the Spirit Seal. The thought weighed heavily on him.

As he walked with downcast eyes, lost in melancholy, someone slipped out of the procession and approached quietly.

“Young Master! Young Master! How have you been?”

Startled, Seong Muyeon turned to see a familiar face—and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Lord Seomun! How did you come here?”