HDCLSSRS Ch 29

Chapter 29 It Wasn’t on Purpose (2)

 

“I heard you were taken—how could I possibly stay still?”

So that meant—

‘Mount Hua must be surrounded by the elite forces of the Demonic Cult by now.’

One of the Demonic Cult’s powerful figures, the Second Young Master, Seong Muryong, never travels alone. Even though Seong Muyeon couldn’t see or sense them, countless members of the Black Shadow Corps were likely stationed nearby to guard him.

“You look well, at least. I wasted several days waiting for a moment when you’d be alone… Even I can’t take on the whole of Mount Hua.”

Despite the madness of what he had done, Seong Muryong wore a gentle smile.

A chill ran down Seong Muyeon’s spine. If Mount Hua realized that the Second Young Master was here… he didn’t even want to imagine what might happen.

Seong Muryong grabbed his hand and pulled.

“You’ve seen enough of the Central Plains. Let’s return to the cult.”

“W-Wait, hyungnim.”

Seong Muyeon struggled desperately to pull his hand free, but it was no use. He couldn’t escape even an inch from Seong Muryong’s grip. The elder brother looked back at him, puzzled.

“What’s wrong? Let’s go home.”

Seong Muyeon fidgeted anxiously.

“I, it’s just… I made a promise.”

“A promise?”

〈Really? You’ll stay right here and go nowhere?〉

〈You’ll wait for me, won’t you?〉

Baek Ryeoil’s pleading expression flashed vividly before his eyes. He couldn’t just disappear like this. Baek Ryeoil was on his way back to Mount Hua right now. If only he could buy a day—or even two…

“Yeon-ah?”

Seong Muyeon snapped out of his thoughts.

When he looked up, Seong Muryong was still smiling softly. But every nerve in Seong Muyeon’s body was screaming in alarm.

“Explain. What promise?”

Though his mouth was smiling, Seong Muryong’s eyes had turned ice-cold.

He was being patient now—but what would happen once that patience wore thin?

‘This is dangerous.’

“H-Hyungnim, I…”

What should he do? He had to find a way to send Seong Muryong back before Mount Hua discovered him—before this ended in a bloody clash.

Just then, a commotion erupted behind them.

“There’s no one at Oknyoje(pond)!”

“I want to wash up already! I’m covered in sweat.”

A group of boys were approaching to bathe.

The blood drained from Seong Muyeon’s face. The tension in Seong Muryong’s expression shifted. The smile that had filled his face vanished completely, replaced by sharp vigilance as he stared toward the direction of the boys.

Completely unaware, the boys laughed boisterously as they drew closer. Among them was a familiar face—Kang Ung.

‘No. If they come face-to-face, everyone will die.’

Not only the young disciples but even Seong Muryong, Ilgwang, and the Black Shadow Corps would be at risk. A full-scale clash would be inevitable.

“Hyungnim! Let’s go!”

“Hm?”

Seong Muryong’s murderous aura vanished in an instant, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“I want to leave right now. I don’t want to stay here another moment! Hurry!”

Seong Muyeon shoved him toward the forest. Fortunately, Seong Muryong didn’t question him and let himself be pushed inside.

“…Young Master?”

A small voice called out behind him. Seong Muyeon realized Kang Ung had seen him—but he didn’t look back.

Ilgwang moved as if to lift Seong Muyeon, but Seong Muryong stopped him and carried his younger brother himself.

“Let’s go. Home.”

Tap!

The scenery flew past them at high speed. Ilgwang followed behind, and over his shoulder, Seong Muyeon could see the boys growing smaller and smaller. They seemed to be shouting something, but he couldn’t hear them.

Leaping off trees, they glided through the air.

“I have a gift prepared for you.”

Seong Muryong spoke in a tone tinged with amusement.

“A gift?”

“You’ll like it.”

He laughed pleasantly, but Seong Muyeon couldn’t bring himself to smile at all.

〈I’ll trust you, just this once.〉

A chill settled in his chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold?”

Seong Muryong asked as Seong Muyeon curled into himself.

“…A little.”

“Just hang on a bit longer. I’ve prepared lodging not far from here. You can’t handle long trips, can you?”

“Yes…”

The chill reached his very bones. Seong Muyeon buried his face in the crook of his elbow.

Right after leaving Mount Hua, they rode westward without rest.

It was the most comfortable journey Seong Muyeon had ever experienced.

When Ilgwang carried him, he had been fleeing Baek Ryeoil in a panic. When Baek Ryeoil carried him, he’d been so overwhelmed he’d nearly passed out.

But Seong Muryong was exceptionally gentle. Knowing Seong Muyeon’s frail condition, he used his lightness skill with utmost softness, ensuring he wouldn’t feel dizzy.

‘My body is fine, but…’

They arrived at an inn in a nearby village late at night. It was one of the secret establishments operated by the Demonic Cult. The inn appeared to have been cleared of guests for the Second Young Master. Every staff member treated them with utmost deference.

When the innkeeper asked if they’d be dining, Seong Muryong nodded.

“I’m fine, but you must be hungry, Yeon. Bring him a meal.”

“No, hyungnim.”

Seong Muyeon replied.

“I’m tired. I’d like to rest a bit.”

“All right. Then let’s do that. I should wash up.”

Instead of eating, he requested bath water and took Seong Muyeon upstairs. The top floor, which they’d fully taken over, had multiple adjoining rooms—so much so that calling it a room felt inadequate.

Seong Muyeon entered one at random and lay down on the bed. Having stayed up all night, his eyes were dry and itchy—but he couldn’t fall asleep.

‘What’s going on in Mount Hua now?’

Kang Ung had likely seen him leaving with strangers. Chaos might have erupted by now.

Maybe a pursuit party was already being assembled. That was the last thing Seong Muyeon wanted.

Seong Muryong was powerful. The martial strength of the cult’s young masters couldn’t be ranked solely by age, but in general, the older ones had trained longer and possessed superior internal energy and experience. As the second eldest, Seong Muryong’s strength was only natural.

〈I’ll trust you, just this once.〉

Baek Ryeoil’s voice and expression when he said that—along with the warmth of the sunlight pouring through the window behind him and the movement of the air—came vividly to mind.

Seong Muyeon pulled the blanket over his head and curled up.

‘That stupid promise… What does it even matter?’

If Baek Ryeoil had been there, a fight would’ve broken out, and someone would’ve been hurt or killed. In the end, Ma Jincheon’s life was spared, and Mount Hua’s disciples weren’t harmed.

‘That’s enough, right?’

“Yeon-ah, are you asleep?”

Seong Muryong’s voice came from outside. A moment later, the door opened softly. Seong Muyeon didn’t move, staying buried under the blanket. Seong Muryong stared in for a moment, then quietly closed the door again.

Baek Ryeoil was fast. He might have already arrived at Mount Hua by now.

What kind of expression would he wear when he opened the doors to Chwijeongjae and found no one waiting for him? Would he be angry?

No… maybe he’d feel relieved instead. Maybe he’d be glad he no longer had to be swayed by someone as fickle as Seong Muyeon.

‘But this time… I really meant it.’

A bitter taste lingered on his tongue.

Seong Muyeon slept through the entire day. In the end, Seong Muryong couldn’t bear it any longer and woke him to make him eat. After barely forcing down a few spoonfuls of porridge, Seong Muyeon set down his spoon, and Seong Muryong frowned.

“Why aren’t you eating? You always stopped eating whenever something bothered you, but it seems to get worse with age.”

“…”

Soon after, steaming herbal medicine was brought in.

“You’ve been neglecting your medicine lately. Drink up. That’s it. Good.”

Seong Muryong gently coaxed the lethargic Seong Muyeon and led him to the next room.

On the table sat a small, ornate lacquered box.

“What is this, hyungnim?”

“I told you—I brought a gift. Open it.”

Seong Muryong sat across from him, resting his chin on one hand, smiling brightly. He looked more like an excited child about to receive a present himself.

Reluctantly, Seong Muyeon opened the box. A strange, unfamiliar scent burst out instantly.

Inside, wrapped in silk, was a small, round pill about the size of a thumbnail.

“This is…”

“It’s the Demon Soul Divine Pill—Mahon Shindan.”

Demon… Soul Divine Pill?

Seong Muyeon’s hands trembled.

The Mahon Shindan!

It was the most treasured elixir of the Demonic Cult. A half-pill could restore someone on the brink of death; a whole one could bring the dead back to life.

“H-How did you get this?”

Seong Muyeon stared at his brother with wide, shocked eyes.

With this medicine, even his frail body might be cured. There had been a time when he desperately sought the Mahon Shindan himself—but even the Cult Leader kept it locked away, using it only in the direst of emergencies. Seong Muyeon had never even laid eyes on it.

“It wasn’t easy.”

Seong Muryong’s smile deepened.

“I’ve always worried about how frail you were. Didn’t I promise I’d make you better?”

Seong Muyeon didn’t know whether to feel happy or not.

There had certainly been a time when he’d longed desperately for this pill. With it, not only could he be cured—he might even gain internal energy to rival Baek Ryeoil’s.

With just this one pill, Seong Muyeon could achieve everything he had ever wished for.