HDCLSSRS Ch 23

Chapter 23: Mount Hua or Namgung? (1)

Suddenly, Wang Hojun shot his hand up high.

“It was me! I had a nosebleed! Must’ve been from working too hard. Look at this! This is the cloth I used to wipe the blood.”

Wang Hojun ran to the corner, took out a bloodstained cloth, and held it up for everyone to see. Baek Ryeoil clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“To think that someone who claims to be a disciple of Mount Hua faints from just this much. Is that all you’ve got? You lot need to stop burying your noses in books and start swinging your swords around! Tsk, tsk, tsk… Let’s go, Seong Muyeon!”

“Yes, sir.”

Seong Muyeon followed behind Baek Ryeoil. Before stepping out the door, he offered a silent nod of thanks to the remaining disciples.

“Goodness, with bodies that frail, what use are they anyway? Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

“……”

He glanced sideways at Baek Ryeoil. In truth, Seong Muyeon liked the way Baek Ryeoil treated him roughly. Having grown up being handled like a fragile glass dish that might shatter at the slightest touch, he had never experienced the things ordinary children did—running around, falling, getting into fights until he bled from the nose.

Ever since leaving the Demon Cult and beginning his journey, he had felt a sense of liberation.

Seong Muyeon didn’t want people’s attitudes toward him to change because of his illness.

Being around Baek Ryeoil made him feel like a healthy, ordinary person—and that alone was enough to make him want to prolong that fleeting sense of freedom for as long as possible.

The next day, Seong Muyeon hesitated for a moment in front of the Ministry of Finance’s door.

He was worried about how Wang Hojun and the others would react. They might decide to remove him from his duties. After all, who could say when he might collapse again?

They might be uncomfortable assigning work to someone like that.

Regardless, if he was going to say goodbye, he at least had to face them one last time. So Seong Muyeon opened the door and stepped inside.

“Ah, Young Master Seong! You’re late! Come quickly—there’s not much left to do!”

Wang Hojun, as if waiting for him, grabbed Seong Muyeon and dragged him to a seat.

“We’ll need to pick up the pace a bit. It’s going to be a tough stretch, so have some of this before we begin!”

He handed him a steaming cup. From the smell alone, Seong Muyeon could tell it wasn’t tea. It smelled more like medicinal decoction, and his face darkened.

“Elder Wang, I…”

“We’ve all had a cup. It’s just a tonic—drink it without worry.”

Everyone else raised their cups.

“…Well then.”

Seong Muyeon let out a helpless chuckle. He had momentarily forgotten that this wasn’t the Demon Cult—this was Mount Hua.

And this was exactly what Mount Hua was like.

“Thank you. I’ll drink it well.”

Clack, clack.

The familiar sounds of abacuses clicking and pages flipping filled the room.

“…So when will the Sect Leader return?”

After a few more days, Seong Muyeon began to grow anxious. Time passed relentlessly, and being cooped up in this place was beginning to wear on him.

“He’ll come when he comes.”

Baek Ryeoil rolled over on his bedding and responded.

‘…How can someone be so lazy?’

From what Seong Muyeon had observed, Baek Ryeoil spent most of his day lying down.

“Don’t you have anything to do?”

The Ministry staff and even the young disciples all worked hard to pull their own weight. So what was this man doing?

“I am doing something.”

Baek Ryeoil, lounging sideways, stared at Seong Muyeon with steady eyes.

“Watching you.”

“…Ah, yes.”

“I’m just taking a rare break. Normally, I’m busy training. A swordsman doesn’t get much time to rest, you know?”

Shaking his head, Seong Muyeon lowered his gaze back to the book he had been reading. Wang Hojun had brought it for him, knowing that he would get bored staying at Chwijungjae. He often went out of his way to bring him something to read.

“Ryeoil, are you in there?”

The voice of Baek Ryeoil’s master, Ma Jincheon, rang out from outside. Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door and walked in.

“Rye… huh?”

Ma Jincheon’s eyes went wide.

“What on earth…? What happened to this room? Why does it look clean?”

He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Then, upon spotting Seong Muyeon, he gave a slight nod in greeting.

“Young Master, I see you’re here as well. Have you been well?”

“Yes, thanks to you, I’ve been quite well.”

Seong Muyeon’s voice was dripping with resentment. He hadn’t forgotten how, on the day he arrived at Mount Hua, Ma Jincheon had coldly refused his desperate plea to be sent to the dungeon.

“You’re here.”

Baek Ryeoil scratched his back and slowly got up. He didn’t bother getting down from the bed or offering a seat. Ma Jincheon seemed unfazed by his rude behavior, as if he was used to it.

Instead, Seong Muyeon closed his book and stood up to approach.

“Please, have a seat over here.”

“I didn’t even know this room had a chair.”

Sitting down, Ma Jincheon glanced around like someone witnessing a miracle.

“Would you care for some tea?”

Seong Muyeon quickly poured him a steaming cup of plum blossom tea.

“…Tea, you say.”

Ma Jincheon’s jaw hung open in shock.

“Is something the matter?”

“Young Master Seong, you’re serving me tea—a gesture I’ve never once received from my own disciple.”

He took in the aroma before taking a sip. The plum blossom tea was Mount Hua’s pride. Ma Jincheon had always enjoyed it, but drinking it in this notoriously unruly disciple’s room gave it a novel flavor.

Suddenly, Ma Jincheon’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits as he glared at Baek Ryeoil. Startled by the intensity of his gaze, Baek Ryeoil asked,

“W-why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Try to be at least half the man Young Master Seong is.”

“Out of nowhere?”

“Enough chatter! Come sit. We need to talk.”

Seong Muyeon stepped aside to give them space. He returned to his seat by the window and reopened his book.

“I heard you still haven’t registered a disciple. What’s the meaning of this?”

“You came all this way just for that? A disciple, really. What a hassle.”

“Hassle? I’ve told you time and again that if you delay, you’ll miss the chance to take in a truly gifted child! Your senior brother’s already taken on a fine disciple. When are you going to give me a grand-disciple, huh? Don’t you feel sorry for this old master of yours?”

“What can I do if no one catches my eye?”

Even as Ma Jincheon scolded him, Baek Ryeoil lazily answered while spinning the teacup Seong Muyeon had prepared for him. Taking a sip, he found the flavor surprisingly decent and kept drinking.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t even been looking? I heard you haven’t once shown up to observe the kids’ training sessions. They said you haven’t even shown your face!”

“Oh? Who said that? Who’s been talking?”

“Your senior brother, you rascal!”

Ma Jincheon leapt to his feet, fists clenched, then sat back down sheepishly when he remembered Seong Muyeon was still present.

“In any case. You’ll only understand my pain once you take on a disciple as troublesome as yourself.”

“That’s exactly why I’m afraid to take one.”

“……”

Ma Jincheon’s fists trembled in frustration.

Seong Muyeon wished he could close his ears, but he couldn’t help overhearing their conversation. After all, he did have ears.

Turning a page, he thought indifferently,

‘It’s pointless.’

Because he already knew that Baek Ryeoil would never take on a disciple, not until the day he died. It was a fact that had often drawn sighs, as it meant the legacy of one of the martial world’s legendary swordsmen would be lost.

In the end, Ma Jincheon rose from his seat without gaining anything.

“Well then, sorry to intrude.”

“Take care.”

He greeted Seong Muyeon and smacked Baek Ryeoil on the back before leaving. As he stepped outside, he once again took in the astonishingly transformed room.

“Well now… This is something else…”

And then, a few days later.

The Sect Leader of Mount Hua returned.

The gates of Mount Hua bustled with disciples who had come to welcome their returning Sect Leader. News had arrived ahead of him from down the mountain, so although he had not yet arrived, the courtyard was already crowded.

Seong Muyeon stood in the very back with Baek Ryeoil, waiting. Before long, people began to appear through the wide-open gates.

The Sect Leader of Mount Hua was a tall old man with a straight posture and a long, flowing white beard. He looked more like a Taoist sage than anyone Seong Muyeon had ever seen.

He paused for a moment, seemingly surprised by the crowd of disciples waiting for him at the gate, before breaking into a gentle smile.

“I’ve told you not to make such a fuss every time. Don’t waste your time on an old man like me—go take care of your duties instead.”

Though he said this, he met the eyes of each disciple in turn, greeting them warmly as he made his way inside.

“Welcome back, Sect Leader!”

“We’ve been waiting for you!”

All the disciples clasped their hands together and bowed deeply. Glancing beside him, Seong Muyeon noticed that Baek Ryeoil had done the same. Realizing he was the only one standing there awkwardly, Seong Muyeon belatedly mimicked their gesture.

When he looked up, the Sect Leader was standing still, gazing directly at Seong Muyeon and Baek Ryeoil.

Baek Ryeoil stepped forward with Seong Muyeon and guided him toward the Sect Leader.

“So you are the young man I’ve heard so much about. The one they say came from the Demon Cult—Young Master Seong Muyeon.”

“I-it is an honor to meet the Grandmaster of Mount Hua.”

As Seong Muyeon bowed, the Sect Leader nodded in return. His friendly demeanor helped ease some of Seong Muyeon’s tension.

But then, someone from the group standing behind the Sect Leader suddenly stepped forward.

“Huh? Young Master Namgung?”

“Young Master Seong! It’s been a while! Have you been well?”

At first, Seong Muyeon had assumed the people trailing the Sect Leader were all part of his entourage, but it turned out that some of them were from the Namgung clan. Namgung Cheonchu had made a full recovery and looked pristine. Having only seen him battered, bleeding, and in disarray before, Seong Muyeon found the well-groomed version rather unfamiliar. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but the man was strikingly handsome.