HDCLSSRS Ch 63

Chapter 63 That Which Does Not Change (4)

 

Mujunggeom is Baek Ryeoil’s Nickname

 

“…….”

 

Despite the cheerful self-introduction, Ilgwang stared coldly down at his hand. When no handshake came despite the wait, Paeng Dohwan took a bold step forward.

“Hmm? Don’t want to tell me your name? Well, I suppose I’ll learn it eventually. I’ll just call you ‘hyung’* for now!”

“……”

“Hyung, once we’ve taken care of these Demonic Cult bastards, how about a sparring match between us…?”

Seeing Ilgwang’s gaze grow increasingly hostile, Seong Muyeon hurriedly stepped between them.

“Haha, so you’re the young master of the Paeng family. An honor to meet you.”

“Oh! You know this hyung? Wonderful. Of course, silence is a virtue for a man, but not saying a single word at all is a bit… Hey, hyung, you can speak, right…?”

Seong Muyeon quickly cut him off.

“By any chance! Did you see Master Ma Jincheon?”

Caught off guard, Paeng Dohwan blinked and nodded.

“I saw him earlier at the restaurant over there. Come to think of it, I also saw Mujunggeom just before. Him, this hyung, and everyone else—no one’s responding to greetings today, it’s a bit disheartening…”

“Is Master Ma Jincheon safe?!”

“Well… he looked fine last I saw him, but why do you ask? Mujunggeom was also looking for his master. Is something wrong? I’m sure it’s nothing serious. I only chased after Shaolin on purpose, but over there…”

“I see. Thank you for letting us know! We’re in the middle of something urgent, so if you’ll excuse us—!”

Grabbing Ilgwang, Seong Muyeon scurried away.

The exchange happened so quickly that Paeng Dohwan didn’t even have time to stop them. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“…Guess I do have a hyung now.”

“Phew. That was close.”

Only after they’d put a good distance between themselves and the others did Seong Muyeon wipe the cold sweat from his brow. If the conversation had gone on even a little longer, the man would’ve asked him to introduce himself.

‘Paeng Dohwan being here at this time means… his brother must be nearby, too.’

The Twin Extremes of Hebei.

The two brothers were always together. After wandering the martial world, they made great contributions during the war. Thanks to them, the Paeng family’s renown soared even higher in the aftermath.

His heart beat faster as he looked around, but disappointingly, all he saw were bald heads.

“Why are you so wary of that man?”

Ilgwang asked in a displeased tone, his brows furrowed. He clearly disapproved of leaving in such haste, thinking it dishonorable for a member of the Demonic Cult.

“Do you really have to ask?!”

Seong Muyeon shrieked, the frustration making his chest feel ready to burst. He beat on it in exasperation.

“You’re asking why? Don’t you know? Who do you think caused all this chaos? We did.”

“I believe it was the cultists under the Fourth Young Master’s command, not ‘we’…”

“Sure, internally it might look that way. But from an outsider’s perspective, we’re all the same. No matter how much we try to explain, no one out there has an obligation to understand us, and they won’t want to.”

“……”

“Can you honestly say you’d survive if you walked up to those Shaolin monks, or to Paeng Dohwan, and told them where you’re from?”

Ilgwang glanced sideways at the nearby Shaolin monks still engaged in battle. Each time a glowing, divine fist landed a strike on the demonic cultists, the earth shook. Their formidable strength left no doubt of Shaolin’s dominance.

After watching them, Ilgwang shut his mouth. Even to himself, it was clear—there was no way he could defeat so many masters. Nor should he be able to.

“Until things settle down, stay quiet and out of sight. If your precious pride won’t let you, then go die alone! Just don’t drag me down with you!”

“…Understood. I take your point.”

Seong Muyeon clicked his tongue. Surviving in enemy territory took much more than this. Ilgwang had a long way to go.

But beyond that, he had an ulterior motive.

‘First impressions are everything.’

Though Baek Ryeoil was the main protagonist of Sword Overseer, he was cold and methodical—more like a deus ex machina who simply resolved situations with brutal efficiency.

Paeng Wongeum, however, was different.

He would one day lead the Murim Alliance, a comforting presence with a warm smile who soothed the war-torn central plains with healing hands of peace.

With no offense to Baek Ryeoil, Seong Muyeon found him dependable but not the type he’d want to be friends with.

He wanted to make a good impression on Paeng Wongeum. If possible, he wanted to be friends with someone like that.

Which meant he also needed to get on the good side of the younger brother, Paeng Dohwan.

If Ilgwang had lost his temper and started a fight, what then?

Paeng Wongeum might have heard about Seong Muyeon from his brother before ever meeting him—and not in a good way.

He asked a passing bald monk for the whereabouts of Baek Ryeoil and Paeng Wongeum.

“Amitabha… If you’re looking for Master Mujunggeom and Young Master Paeng, they should be at the temporary shelter with the ones from Mount Hua.”

“Thank you, Master.”

With a polite bow, he headed in the direction the monk had indicated.

As described, a temporary shelter had been set up at the base of Shaolin’s mountain gate. Refugees who had lost their homes huddled in tents provided by Shaolin, trying to endure the cold night with the offered food.

As they drew nearer, Seong Muyeon began to adjust his appearance. He tidied his disheveled hair, tied it up again, and made sure his hair ornament wasn’t crooked.

“…Seventh Young Master?”

Ilgwang looked at him with suspicion.

“What! What now!”

“Nothing. It’s nothing…”

Ilgwang muttered quietly.

“Seventh Young Master, I must step away for a bit. I need to report to the main sect. Given the severity of this incident, there’s no time to waste.”

He disappeared into the shadows, presumably to issue orders to the hidden Black Shadow Division.

It made sense—this regional branch had been decimated in an instant. Though the chaos stemmed from the Henan branch’s independent actions, the damage to the cult’s reputation was massive. The headquarters would need to take immediate action.

“Alright. Go.”

As he stepped into the shelter, Seong Muyeon’s heart started to pound.

‘Paeng Wongeum is here…’

He slowly scanned his surroundings. The thought that he might run into Paeng Wongeum at any moment made his palms clammy with sweat.

How long had it been since he’d been this nervous over just one person?

Probably never.

The first person to catch his eye was Baek Ryeoil. That was just how protagonists were—wherever they stood, they naturally drew all eyes.

“You’re here?”

Baek Ryeoil approached with a lazy gait.

“How’s Master Ma Jincheon?”

Even without an answer, the look on Baek Ryeoil’s face said Ma Jincheon was fine.

He jerked his chin.

Following his gaze, Seong Muyeon saw Ma Jincheon handing out candy to some civilian children. Not a scratch on him, looking as composed as ever, and Muyeon’s heart eased.

He had saved someone.

Though it was late at night, many children were still awake. Losing their homes or families had left them solemn, so Ma Jincheon had gone out and brought back a pile of sweets to lift their spirits.

The children were used to seeing monks, but sword-bearing warriors seemed to scare them. Apart from a few brave ones, most peeked out from behind their parents’ clothes.

And then—

“Children, it’s alright. Don’t be afraid. Go ahead and take some.”

A gentle voice rang out from somewhere.

A tall man stood with his hat slung over his shoulder, bending down to speak to the children. Unlike his younger brother, his long hair wasn’t braided but half-pinned up in a scholar’s crown, the rest flowing freely. He looked more like a bookish academic than someone from the martial Paeng family. The massive broadsword on his back was the only hint to his origin.

“This man brought these sweets just for you. Don’t be scared—go on and take some.”

At those words, the children slowly approached Ma Jincheon, finally taking the candy from his hands. In no time, every child had a fistful of sweets.

“Thank you, Young Master Paeng. I must look frightening.”

In truth, the children had been hesitant not because of Ma Jincheon but because of Baek Ryeoil, who had been lurking nearby. Once Paeng Wongeum obscured their view, they’d finally mustered the courage. Of course, Ma Jincheon had no way of knowing that and drooped his shoulders in disappointment.

“Not at all. They’ve just been through a terrible ordeal tonight. Please don’t take it to heart.”

“By the way, it’s been a long time. How is the Paeng family patriarch?”

“Still going strong, as always. He continues to lead the family while wielding his great sword, which allows the rest of us the freedom to move about like this. I’m very grateful.”

The two of them chatted warmly, clearly familiar with each other, catching up on lost time.

Baek Ryeoil, uninterested in such trivial chatter, soon grew bored. Turning away idly, he suddenly noticed something strange about Seong Muyeon beside him.

“Seong Muyeon. What’s wrong?”

Muyeon stood frozen, as if struck by lightning. His pupils were dilated, his lips slightly parted. Since meeting him, Baek Ryeoil had never seen him look so utterly dumbfounded.

Hearing Baek Ryeoil’s voice, Paeng Wongeum turned toward them. His elegant, smiling eyes lingered on Baek Ryeoil before widening slightly in surprise upon meeting Seong Muyeon’s gaze.

He asked Ma Jincheon’s leave and slowly approached them, bowing politely to Seong Muyeon.

“You must be Master Seong Muyeon. I’ve heard much about you. I am Paeng Wongeum of the Paeng family in Hebei.”

Still stiff as a board, Seong Muyeon finally managed a bow with creaky joints.

“Ah, yes… Y-yes. I’m S-Seong Muyeon… I’ve heard… a lot about you too…”

His head remained deeply bowed, showing no sign of rising. Baek Ryeoil narrowed his eyes. The tip of Seong Muyeon’s exposed ear was flushed bright red.