HDCLSSRS Ch 62

Chapter 62 That Which Does Not Change (3)

 

Baek Ryeoil shut his eyes tightly.

The teachings of the scriptures, the words of his master, the admonitions of his elders flashed through his mind.

To raise one’s sword is not to harm others.

It is to save them.

As a disciple of Mount Hua, he had to remember and remember again.

Baek Ryeoil clenched his fist.

‘…Since when did I start caring about that?’

Soon, he composed himself.

First, he had to find his master.

This decision might bring him censure. The sect would not tolerate it. He would be punished for putting personal matters above the public good.

‘Punishment? Let them punish me if they must.’

The moment of agony passed, and Baek Ryeoil opened his eyes. He was about to turn his head away from the carnage before him when—

“Master!”

A familiar voice pierced his ears.

Seong Muyeon had arrived with someone in tow in the blink of an eye. Now that he looked, the person who had brought him was also someone he knew. Ilgwang was visibly shaken by the horrific scene that unfolded before him.

“Th-this is… Aren’t those our own cult members? Why would they do such a thing…?”

It wasn’t that he was moved by pity for the commoners who had suffered or that he felt guilty.

The Demonic Cult, too, was just one of many forces that had taken root in the Central Plains. They danced a precarious line between visibility and secrecy, but they still abided by certain unwritten rules. Without them, they would no longer be able to exist in this land.

Yet now, before his eyes, he was witnessing the breakdown of those very unspoken laws that had been upheld for so long. Hundreds of crazed cultists were rampaging madly before them.

“Seventh Young Lord, this looks grave. This is no ordinary incident. If this goes on, the very existence of the cult may be at stake…”

“Ilgwang! Now is not the time for that.”

Seong Muyeon cut him off sharply.

“Start by containing the situation.”

“…Yes.”

He hesitated for a moment but soon drew his sword and rushed forward. Perhaps he judged that lending a hand now, even in a small way, would ultimately help the cult.

“Go. We’ll take care of things here.”

Seong Muyeon firmly pushed Baek Ryeoil away. But dazed as he was, Baek Ryeoil allowed himself to be pushed without intending to move.

“Go! Save Master Ma Jincheon!”

The sharp cry jolted Baek Ryeoil back to his senses. He nodded and ran off. Just before completely disappearing from view, he seemed to glance back at Seong Muyeon but soon vanished beyond the alley.

Seong Muyeon looked around with a grave expression.

‘It’s worse than I thought.’

Ilgwang might not have known, but Seong Muyeon had foreseen this. He already knew that people would die, homes would be lost, and the Demonic Cult would be forced further into the shadows.

To him, this incident was something he could have easily ignored. Saving Ma Jincheon was good if it happened, but if not, it was no great loss.

The original work had taken place long after this event, only mentioning it in passing as “something that had happened.” He had not known the details and felt no particular emotion.

But the devastation he witnessed firsthand… was different.

‘I was too complacent.’

It was utterly wretched.

Flames were spreading everywhere, and people were fleeing in all directions. The smoke from the inferno blackened the night sky.

Collapsed buildings…

Charred debris…

Each one had been someone’s livelihood, someone’s warm home where family awaited.

Fortunately, Ilgwang fought well. He dispatched two or three enemies in the blink of an eye and darted across the battlefield. The sheer number of enemies was the problem, but most of them were barely above third-rate, so he didn’t seem to have much trouble handling them.

There was no need for Seong Muyeon to step in.

‘Still, I should conserve my energy just in case.’

By the time Ma Jincheon arrived at Shaolin, the commotion had already been noticed. Monks in yellow robes were rushing to suppress the Demonic Cult.

“I can’t believe this. To commit such acts within Shaolin’s own territory…”

The elderly monk who had sent out the warriors quietly chanted sutras.

“Amitabha… They will pay the price for their killings.”

The blinding Buddhist radiance emitted by the hundreds of monks lit the streets of Luoyang as if it were broad daylight.

There was no longer anything to worry about.

“Phew…”

Ma Jincheon’s legs gave out, and he slumped down on the steps. But soon he had to stand again. He heard the scream of a child nearby.

“Mommyyyy!”

This area had already been swept through by the monks; fallen cultists lay scattered everywhere. As he approached the source of the sound, he found a young child crying loudly.

“Child, what’s wrong?”

Ma Jincheon hurried to the child and asked.

“Mom… My mom’s over there.”

The child pointed to the wreckage of a collapsed building. It seemed someone was trapped underneath. Ma Jincheon looked around, but no monks were in sight. The monks dispatched earlier had focused solely on subduing the enemy. Reinforcements to handle rescue and recovery would arrive soon, but…

“Stand back for a moment.”

Ma Jincheon rolled up his sleeves. He had to save the trapped person as soon as possible.

He began lifting the beam.

Groan.

He used all his strength and inner power, but the pillar that had crushed someone barely rose a few inches off the ground.

Ma Jincheon’s face flushed red, veins bulging.

Just a bit more…

Just a bit…

“Hm?”

He felt something tickle the edge of his nerves and looked up. It came from a pitch-black shadow beyond the wreckage, where no light reached.

It felt like something tiny was gleaming from within that abyss-like darkness…

But before he could think more, he realized the beam that wouldn’t budge a moment ago was suddenly lifting smoothly.

“Ryeoil…? What are you doing here?”

His disciple, Baek Ryeoil, stood with an indifferent expression, holding up the beam as if it weighed nothing. What had felt like a mountain a moment ago was now raised like a feather in his hands.

“Mom! Mom!”

Fortunately, the woman trapped underneath was unharmed. Once light shone through, she crawled out desperately and embraced her daughter.

“Head that way—Shaolin monks should be there. They’ll treat your injuries and keep you safe.”

“Th-thank you… Thank you so much.”

After sending the mother and child off, Ma Jincheon stared at Baek Ryeoil as if looking at some bizarre artifact.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Shanxi.”

Baek Ryeoil shrugged nonchalantly.

“Somehow, I ended up here.”

His lukewarm answer made Ma Jincheon glare. This child was always like that. Never gave a straight answer, no matter the question.

“Well, since you’re here, it’s for the best. The cultists are running rampant. Come with me. Shaolin may be enough, but you should help too.”

The cultists had spread across the commercial district, so it would take time to subdue them all.

Just as Ma Jincheon was about to take a step, Baek Ryeoil grabbed his shoulder and began dragging him somewhere.

“What are you doing! Let go! Baek Ryeoil! Are you ignoring your master’s command!?”

In the temporary shelter set up by monks at Mount Song’s gate, Baek Ryeoil sat him down next to the mother and daughter he had just rescued.

“Master, stay here.”

“What?”

“You’re old and your bones must ache. Why run around needlessly? Let your disciple handle it. How about helping these people instead?”

“…You brat.”

But there was clearly much to do here too. The injured and displaced were steadily gathering. With a sigh, Ma Jincheon nodded.

“Fine, go.”

Baek Ryeoil left without hesitation. Ma Jincheon watched his disciple’s retreating back, struck anew.

There was something odd about this disciple.

Had he somehow predicted this incident would happen and rushed here?

The reckless fool he thought would never grow up was finally starting to mature.

Ma Jincheon, amused by his student’s growth, chuckled and stood.

There was much to be done. First, he should bring blankets to the mother and child sitting on the cold ground.

With Ilgwang leading the way, Seong Muyeon advanced through the city, cutting down cultists.

Occasionally, one would rush at him, and he would simply kick them away without much effort. He really had little to do.

Once the Shaolin monks arrived, radiating Buddhist light, even more so.

To the common folk, the cultists were a source of terror, but to the monks in yellow robes, they fell like autumn leaves in the wind.

In the midst of bald heads, someone with thick black hair stood out all the more.

“Hahahaha! Where do you think you’re going!?”

A man roared wildly, his long braided hair and straw hat flapping behind him as he rampaged. Now that Shaolin had joined the fray, the cultists, overwhelmed, scattered like frightened rats. He laughed heartily, swinging a massive saber. His booming voice drew every gaze from afar.

The man, who had burst into the scene like a bouncing ball, froze when he saw Ilgwang.

“Hmm? You…”

Seong Muyeon’s heart dropped.

Though the man in the straw hat looked like a polished young master from a reputable orthodox family—anyone, even a toddler, would think so—what if he recognized Ilgwang’s true identity?

It was crucial that no one discovered Ilgwang’s affiliation with the cult at this moment. If things went wrong, he might find himself at the center of a blood-soaked battlefield, taking on the fury of righteous martial artists.

As the man narrowed his eyes and observed Ilgwang, he suddenly burst into laughter.

“You’re incredible with a sword, brother!”

Then, reaching out his right hand, he offered Ilgwang a handshake. Hot-blooded types like him were especially dangerous.

A straw hat, a massive saber, a booming laugh, long braided hair…

Seong Muyeon had a hunch who this man was.

“Since we’ve met like this, why not exchange names? I’m Paeng Dohwan of the Paeng Clan in Hebei!”

As expected.