HDCLSSRS Ch 145

Chapter 145 Awakening(1)

Baek Ryeoil’s eyes, as he spoke, were gentler than usual, softened with warmth. He cupped both of Seong Muyeon’s cheeks in his hands. His lips drew close — and when they met, the kiss was deep enough to steal his breath, though it lasted only a moment.

When he pulled back, he leaned close to Muyeon’s ear and whispered, voice low and teasing.

“I’ll savor the rest when I return…”

He flicked his gaze toward the drawer where the unopened jars of liquor were hidden, a mischievous smile tugging at his mouth. Yet his eyes, when they returned to Muyeon, burned with an intensity that left no trace of jest.

“Wait for me.”

Then he was gone.

Thud.

The door closed behind him, and almost immediately Muyeon followed. As he stepped outside, pale moonlight bathed the manor grounds, where tension hung heavy in the cool air. Armed warriors were gathering in silence, forming ranks with disciplined precision as they prepared for battle.

Baek Ryeoil didn’t look back. He melted into the crowd of shadowed figures and disappeared into the darkness.

Baek Ryeoil had told him to sleep more, but Muyeon could not.

He spent the rest of the night wide awake. When morning came, his eyes were dry and sore. As he rubbed them and stepped into the main room, he found Kang Ung and Bang Gyeom seated at the table, their faces drawn and sleepless as well.

“Have there been any updates from Baek Dojang?” Muyeon asked.

Kang Ung shook his head weakly.

Just as Muyeon was about to step out to check for news himself, the door slid open — and he found himself face-to-face with Jang Hansu.

“Where are you headed, Young Master Seong?”

Jang Hansu stepped inside, positioning himself subtly to block the exit.

“I was only going to ask if any new reports had come in.”

“If you’ll allow me to speak frankly,” Jang Hansu said coolly, “I’d hate for you to waste your effort. In operations like this — swift and decisive — no news is good news. If messages start coming in mid-battle, it usually means something has gone wrong.”

“……”

“But of course, with my Master, Baek Dojang, and all the elite warriors from each sect leading the charge, such a thing is unlikely.”

His tone held a warning.

“Those who remain behind are not idle either,” he added. “We’re strengthening defenses in case of counterattack. Everyone’s nerves are stretched to breaking. So I’d advise you to stay put in your quarters. That’s what I came to tell you.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and left. His clipped tone and rigid posture made it clear — he was displeased at being left behind from the front lines.

Realizing that waiting was their only option, Muyeon quietly took a seat at the table.

“Seventh Young Master,” Bang Gyeom muttered, his voice low and strained. “Is this how they’ve been treating you at Mount Hua?”

His discontent was barely veiled. The tension wasn’t confined to the alliance warriors — Bang Gyeom, too, was on edge, his worry for Seong Mujai twisting tight in his chest.

Muyeon smiled faintly, though the expression held no joy.

“He’s just got a personal dislike for me. There are others here who treat me well.”

Bang Gyeom didn’t look convinced. After everything he’d witnessed since meeting Muyeon, his caution was understandable.

“And besides,” Muyeon added, “Jang Hansu and I… well, we just had some bad history. But he’s not a bad person…”

He trailed off.

“…Right? He shouldn’t be.”

But doubt lingered. The Jang Hansu in the original story had been an entirely different man from the one before him now.

Could his presence here have changed Hansu’s fate? Perhaps the man’s long-harbored resentment and thirst for vengeance had shifted off course — redirected toward Muyeon instead.

Even Kang Ung grew uneasy, glancing between them before falling silent. The quiet that followed was heavy, thick enough to choke.

The manor, with half its occupants away at battle, was oppressively still. Time itself seemed to drag. Each glance out the window showed the sun still hanging low over the eastern mountains. Not even noon yet.

Would this endless waiting ever end?

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Bang Gyeom broke the silence.

“Come to think of it… where’s Seomun Yuha?”

Muyeon blinked. That explained why the morning felt unusually quiet. The manor was missing its noisiest resident — Seomun Yuha, who was usually glued to his side, chattering endlessly.

“Surely he wasn’t sent to fight?” Kang Ung asked worriedly.

“Of course not. He’s barely begun training and isn’t even a formal disciple,” Muyeon replied.

“Then where could he be? He’s not one to sit still.”

Indeed, the image of Yuha patiently waiting in silence was impossible to picture.

Then — the sound of hurried footsteps. More than one person.

They all tensed, eyes snapping toward the door. Shadows flickered beyond the paper screen before the door slid open.

“I’m back!”

“Seomun Yuha? Where on earth—”

Muyeon stopped mid-sentence as he saw who was standing beside him.

Next to the beaming Yuha stood a short, awkward-looking man, eyes darting around nervously — none other than Yangha Pavilion’s Master, the very man they had been desperately searching for.

“Go on, say hello. You all know each other, don’t you?” Yuha said cheerfully.

The pavilion master cleared his throat, his expression twisting when he saw the stunned faces before him.

“What are you all staring at? If Young Master Seomun hadn’t begged me, I wouldn’t have shown my face here!”

He snapped irritably, though his eyes kept flicking toward Muyeon with barely concealed unease.

“Where have you been?” Muyeon asked. “We’ve been searching for you for days. You two… know each other?”

“Met him today,” Yuha answered lightly, striding into the room as if it were his own home. He dropped into an empty seat and gestured for the pavilion master to join him.

To Muyeon’s surprise, the man obeyed meekly, sitting down beside Yuha like a well-trained lamb.

“I made some inquiries,” Yuha continued. “Turns out the Pavilion Master hadn’t returned to his sect. He’s been hiding here in the manor all along. Isn’t that right, Pavilion Master?”

The man chuckled awkwardly and nodded.

“Of course! Our Yangha Pavilion may not match the great Nine Sects in size, but we boast skilled disciples and refined sword arts! …Still, I thought it safest to stay hidden here, given the circumstances.”

The words poured out of him without restraint.

Muyeon couldn’t help a breathless laugh. They’d met only this morning, yet Yuha had already tamed him like an old friend. That was the power of Huajeong Valley’s charm.

“The Pavilion Master has agreed to answer your questions honestly,” Yuha said sweetly. “Isn’t that right?”

“O-Of course,” the man stammered. “I’ve done nothing wrong, so I’ve no reason to hide anything!”

“Good.”

Muyeon sat across from him, folding his hands neatly.

“There are a few things I’d like to clarify about the incident from a few days ago — the morning I was accused of killing Dojang Je Cheondeuk.”

At that, the pavilion master stiffened, his eyes darting around as though searching for an escape. But Bang Gyeom and Kang Ung had already stepped behind him, blocking the door.

“It’s all right,” Muyeon said calmly. “We just want to ask questions. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“B-But—”

“Pavilion Master,” Yuha interrupted gently. “Didn’t we agree you’d cooperate? You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

The man deflated. Whatever resistance he’d had melted away under Yuha’s coaxing smile.

“W-What do you want to know?”

“It’s nothing major,” Muyeon said. “I just wonder how you knew the details of that incident so precisely. You weren’t there, were you? Did you hear it directly from someone?”

At this, the pavilion master flushed bright red and slammed a hand against the table.

“Are you accusing me of being a spy for the Demonic Sect?! Absurd! I was born here in Wuhan! My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather — all from Hubei! I’ve never once stepped outside this province in my life!”

“Then where did you hear the story?”

“I told you already! I overheard you talking with the Sixth Young Master. I pieced things together and did my own digging!”

“Yes, but from whom did you first hear it? Where exactly?”

“I don’t see why that matters! Isn’t the real issue what you did?”

As the man kept dodging the question, Muyeon sighed.

“Let me ask again. Yesterday, you said you had a source — an informant. Who is that person?”