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Chapter Text

Never in his wildest dreams did Cale(?), or Kim Rok Soo(?), ever imagine that he would reincarnate once again.

“ISN'T TWO LIFETIMES ENOUGH FOR YOU, YOU F-CKING BASTARD OF A GOD!” His voice echoed through the air, full of anger and frustration, as his mind boiled with fury.

What he didn’t realize, however, was that the people around him were giving him confused, and slightly concerned, glances.

“Mom, why is that person yelling like that?”

“Don’t look at him.”

“He must be a crazy bastard.”

The words barely reached Cale’s(?) ears, his thoughts consumed by his own chaotic situation. He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing as he took stock of his new body. His clothes were ragged, his skin dirtied by the harshness of his surroundings, and several small injuries dotted his exposed limbs. His hair was long and unkempt, covering parts of his face, but the reflection he caught of himself revealed a body that was likely around twelve years old.

"Of all the bodies you could’ve given me, why this one? A beggar's body? You f-cking donkey, I swear to heaven, if I ever see you again, you’re dead," he muttered under his breath, veins popping on his forehead as his anger grew uncontrollable.

‘First things first, where am I?’ Cale(?) looked around, his gaze scanning the environment. The world around him seemed strangely familiar, yet subtly different. The architecture was old, but sturdy. The people around him, though dressed in ways that seemed outdated, moved with purpose. Merchants called out to passersby, and civilians chatted in the street, oblivious to his outburst.

‘Three lifetimes, three different worlds... How the hell am I supposed to adapt to this one?’ Cale’s(?) mind reeled. ‘Why couldn’t you have just sent me back to my past life? Why this again? Why this... world of Murim, or whatever it is? You God of Death, I swear I’ll kill you one day.’ His rage simmered beneath the surface, but he forced himself to calm down. ‘No, now’s not the time to lose it. I can always take care of that bastard later. For now... let’s focus on surviving.’

His stomach growled loudly as he looked at his emaciated body. ‘I need food, fast, or I’m going to starve to death.’ He rubbed his flat stomach, his thoughts drifting back to his previous life.

‘I miss Kim Rok Soo’s buff body,’ he thought with a sigh, invisible tears welling up in his eyes. His right hand clenched into a fist as he suppressed the overwhelming sense of loss.

The day dragged on as Cale(?), with little energy, managed to scrape together enough for a piece of bread. Sitting on the curb, he began to formulate his next steps, trying to think of what to do in this strange new world. What he needed most right now was some stability. He needed money, shelter, anything to survive.

As he sat there lost in his thoughts, a figure appeared before him. The man was old, with a long, graying beard, and wore flowing white robes adorned with a flower emblem on one side. His presence exuded an air of calm authority, and there was something about him that felt... different, somehow.

“Would you like to come with me, young man?” the old man asked in a soft, gentle voice, his gaze kind yet firm.

Cale(?) glanced up, startled, as the man extended his hand toward him. It was an unexpected offer, one that seemed almost too good to be true. There was no way to know the man’s true intentions, but something about him felt safe, welcoming even.

Without thinking too much, and with little else to lose, Cale(?) took the old man’s hand.

And so, his life took a turn that he couldn’t have predicted, one that would lead him down a path far beyond anything he had ever imagined.

Chapter Text

Chung Hwa (Cheong Hwa) was the name given to him by the old man, Hyun Jong. It meant 'Clear Flower' or 'Pure Flower.'

At first, Chung Hwa hadn’t thought much about his new identity, but as time passed, he came to understand more about the world he had been reborn into. This was a world of Murim—one filled with martial artists, sects, and unyielding traditions. And, as fate would have it, the man who had taken him in was none other than the sect leader of Mount Hua.

Mount Hua, once a sect of great prestige and power, was now in ruins. The remnants of its former glory were evident in its cracked walls, its declining number of disciples, and the lack of proper resources. But most importantly, the martial arts being taught to the young disciples were—

"Utter sh*t," Chung Hwa muttered as he collapsed onto his bed after another day of training.

Sure, there were useful aspects to the techniques, but compared to the battles he had fought in his past two lives, it was nothing short of pathetic.

“It teaches the basics, but everything feels so inefficient. Then again, I did fight tooth and nail to survive in my first and second life,” he sighed, running a hand through his long red hair before tying it up.

Mount Hua lacked many things—from money to proper martial arts. Yet despite its pitiful state, Chung Hwa couldn’t help but feel a strange attachment to the sect leader. Even if the sect was falling apart, he found himself wanting to help Hyun Jong.

‘He reminds me of someone...’ he thought, clutching his head. His heart clenched at the thought of Hyun Jong’s gentle smile, a warmth so rare in the ruthless worlds he had lived in before.

"I must be going crazy." He sighed again, shaking his head.

But the question remained—what could he do to help the sect?

He had no power in this world yet. He had no noble status, no army, and no connections. But what he did have were his skills, his intelligence, and his ability to adapt.

“Maybe I can sell some children’s stories?” he mused, rubbing his chin. “It wouldn’t make a huge profit, but it would be something.”

Money was money, no matter how small the amount.

“Right, money is money!” He jumped up from his bed and grabbed a sheet of paper and a brush.

“I can write simple short stories and sell them... Maybe I can also knit or sew handkerchiefs and scarves since winter is coming. Small wooden toys could work too...” He continued mumbling to himself while writing down his thoughts.

His eyes then narrowed. “Mount Hua is in the mountains, which means there’s a chance of minerals or gems being hidden here... but mining is too much work. Mountain herbs, though… Right! I can sell herbs, or better yet, make herbal tea and sell that instead.”

That was it. If he wanted to save Mount Hua, he needed to make money first.

‘Everything will be fine. That’s right, everything will be fine,’ he reassured himself as he stopped writing.

His expression hardened. “I need to see the Sect Leader.”

---

Hyun Jong sat in his room, sipping from a cracked cup of tea, his thoughts preoccupied when a sudden knock on the door pulled him back to reality.

“Come in,” he called out in his usual gentle tone.

The door opened, and Chung Hwa stepped in, sitting across from him. His sharp, determined gaze made Hyun Jong raise a brow in curiosity.

“Is something wrong, Chung Hwa?” The old man’s voice carried the same warmth that reminded Chung Hwa of a mother’s embrace.

Without hesitation, Chung Hwa bowed deeply. “Sect Leader, I know this request may be unreasonable, but please allow me to leave Mount Hua whenever I want.”

Hyun Jong’s eyes widened. “Leave Mount Hua?”

“Yes. I need this permission to do something in Shaanxi. Please, Sect Leader.”

Hyun Jong stroked his beard, considering the request carefully.

“I’m afraid I cannot give you permission,” he said finally, his expression unreadable.

Chung Hwa’s smile remained, but a small vein twitched on his forehead. ‘I miss my noble or leader life… Back then, I had control over everything. Haha—’

“But Sect Leader, please, at least give me one chance to leave Mount Hua.”

Hyun Jong sighed as he met the young boy’s unwavering gaze. After a long moment of silence, he finally relented.

“Only one… I will give you only one chance to leave Mount Hua—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Chung Hwa thanked him and stormed out of the room, leaving Hyun Jong shaking his head in exasperation.

“That child…”

---

For the next six months, Chung Hwa worked tirelessly.

During his breaks and late at night, he carved wooden toys. Since he had no money for materials and lacked the strength to mine an entire mountain, he started small—chopping trees and refining the wood into usable pieces.

Besides that, he gathered herbs. Before sunrise, he climbed the mountains to harvest rare plants, sometimes risking his life in the process. It was dangerous, but he treated it as training, strengthening his body while securing resources.

And if that wasn’t enough, he also took an interest in medicine. After getting permission from the Sect Leader, he began studying medical treatments, herbs, poisons, and healing techniques. It was a grueling schedule, but he was used to an insane workload.

His small room, which he never allowed anyone to enter, quickly became a chaotic mess. Wooden toys filled one side, herbal packages and dried plants occupied another, while books, scrolls, and medical notes covered his desk and floor.

Lying on his bed, he let out a deep breath.

“I should make a list and finalize my preparations…” he mumbled, staring at the ceiling.

‘Six months flew by so fast…’ he thought, exhaustion creeping into his body. ‘Whatever. I’ll take a nap, and tomorrow, I’ll leave early to sell everything I’ve prepared. It won’t be much, but it’ll be enough to feed all the third-grade disciples for at least a month, i hope.’

With that final thought, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, ready to face the next stage of his plan.

Chapter Text

Yeo Dong-Jun prided himself on never losing a business negotiation—especially not to a child. In his forty years of life, he had built a reputation as one of the best shopkeepers and medics in Shaanxi, possessing an exceptional ability to determine the true value of a product at a glance.

So when a red-haired child, dressed in the robes of a martial sect, walked into his shop carrying large bags, claiming he had goods to sell, Dong-Jun almost laughed.

“I want to sell a few things,” the boy said, his voice calm yet confident.

Dong-Jun raised a brow. “Kid, this isn’t a place to—”

“If you’re not interested, I’ll take my business elsewhere,” the boy interrupted, already turning to leave.

Dong-Jun blinked in shock. A child had just walked in, claiming to have goods to sell, and now he was about to walk out without even trying to negotiate? That was unheard of.

“Wait, hold on! At least let me see what you have.”

The boy paused at the doorway and turned back slightly, his dark eyes sharp. “Chung Hwa. Call me Chung Hwa, not ‘kid.’”

‘This arrogant little—’ Dong-Jun exhaled, forcing himself to remain calm. “Fine, Chung Hwa. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Chung Hwa strode back to the counter, placed his bags down, and began to open them. The moment Dong-Jun saw the contents, his breath caught in his throat.

Inside were numerous wooden toys—intricately carved, finely polished, and clearly crafted with skill. But what truly shocked him were the herbs.

“Wait! These are… Silver Fir, Dragon’s Blood, Snow Lotus, and Alpine Aster?!” His voice rose in disbelief. “All of these are rare herbs that only grow in the mountains!”

Not only that, but they had already been dried and prepared for use, saving potential buyers the trouble of processing them.

Silver Fir was highly sought after for soothing respiratory issues such as coughs and congestion. It also helped reduce inflammation and supported joint health.

Dragon’s Blood had anti-inflammatory and wound-healing properties. It was widely used in medicine to treat ulcers and gastrointestinal discomfort.

Snow Lotus was famed for its anti-aging and longevity benefits. It reduced inflammation, helped with joint pain, strengthened the immune system, and enhanced vitality, making it invaluable to both warriors and the elderly.

Alpine Aster was useful for digestive problems such as bloating and stomach cramps. It also had calming properties that helped with anxiety and stress, along with mild anti-inflammatory effects.

Each of these herbs was valuable on its own, but together? They formed a collection that any physician or alchemist would pay a fortune for.

Dong-Jun swallowed hard. “How much are you selling them for?”

Chung Hwa met his gaze, completely unshaken. “300 thousand.”

Dong-Jun nearly choked. “That’s too high! How about 100 thousand?”

“500 thousand.”

The shopkeeper felt a headache forming. “400 thousand. That’s my final offer.”

At that, Chung Hwa closed the bag and turned to leave. “Very well. I’ll find another shop. I’m sure someone else will recognize the value of these goods.”

Panic surged through Dong-Jun. If another shopkeeper got their hands on these herbs and toys, they would make a fortune! He couldn’t let that happen.

“Wait! Fine, 500 thousand—”

“Who said 500 thousand?” Chung Hwa’s lips curled into a smirk. “600 thousand”

Dong-Jun’s eyes twitched. ‘This little brat… this is robbery!’

“600 thousand!” he blurted before he could stop himself. If this continued, he would be the one losing money!

Chung Hwa extended his hand with a smile. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Dong-Jun.”

Dong-Jun shook his hand grudgingly, feeling as if he had been thoroughly scammed.

“You’re not leaving just yet,” he said.

Chung Hwa tilted his head. “Oh? Is there a problem?”

“You’re only selling to me. No other shops. Promise me that.” Dong-Jun’s eyes were sharp, his tone firm.

Chung Hwa chuckled. “Of course.”

—

That afternoon, when Chung Hwa returned to Mount Hua with 2 million coins, Sect Leader Hyun Jong nearly fainted.

Hyun Sang hummed a strange tune all day, and Hyun Young stuffed his mouth with sweets, unable to contain his joy.

“You beautiful little thing! You’re Mount Hua’s savior!” Hyun Young exclaimed with a beaming smile.

Chung Hwa raised a brow. ‘You’re not even looking at me… anyways.’ His gaze shifted to Hyun Jong, who was still processing the sheer amount of money brought in.

“Sect Leader,” Chung Hwa began, his tone serious. “Now that I’ve proven myself, I request permission to leave the sect freely.”

Hyun Jong hesitated, but after seeing the determination in Chung Hwa’s eyes, he sighed and nodded. “Very well. You have my permission.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, that answer made Chung Hwa’s entire day.

—

As he was making his way back to his room, a voice called out to him.

“Sajil, wait for a moment!”

He turned to see Jo Gul and Yun Jong approaching him, looking somewhat hesitant.

“Jo Gul Sahyung? Yun Jong Sahyung? What is it?”

Jo Gul scratched the back of his head, while Yun Jong looked slightly embarrassed. Finally, Jo Gul spoke. “We were wondering… would it be possible to train with you?”

That caught Chung Hwa off guard. “Train with me?”

Yun Jong nodded. “We’ve noticed you train before dawn and continue long after others have gone to sleep. Your dedication is… inspiring. We’d like to train together, if you’re willing.”

Chung Hwa crossed his arms, studying their expressions. “It won’t be easy.”

Jo Gul and Yun Jong exchanged glances before nodding firmly. “We’re ready.”

A slow smile spread across Chung Hwa’s lips. “Alright. But remember—you asked for this.”

Chapter Text

Since then, a year and a half had passed.

With the small fortune he had accumulated, Chung Hwa reinvested a portion into acquiring better materials while giving the majority to Mount Hua. Beyond wooden toys and herbs, he expanded his business ventures into handkerchiefs, artwork, and small storybooks. However, unlike the grueling pace of the first six months, he allowed himself a little breathing room—money was still a problem, but it was no longer an immediate crisis.

Over the past year, he had focused heavily on physical, mental, and medical training.

Alongside Jo Gul and Yun Jong, he pushed his body to its limits. They climbed mountains with stones strapped to their limbs, did endless push-ups, sit-ups, and planks. However, there were days when Jo Gul and Yun Jong would mysteriously disappear from training. Chung Hwa never commented on it—if they didn’t want to get stronger, that was their choice. Still, despite their occasional laziness, he had grown close to them.

With the unrestricted permission granted by Sect Leader Hyun Jong, he made full use of his newfound freedom, training rigorously as he traveled back and forth between Mount Hua and Shaanxi, carrying heavy stones or water buckets. Eventually, he managed to buy proper metal weights, though the cost had left him seething. Despite his frustration, he couldn't deny their effectiveness. He wore them nearly every day, gradually increasing the weight whenever they began to feel too light.

His primary focus was on speed and footwork, ensuring that his movements were quick and precise. But beyond physical training, he dedicated himself to mastering an extensive range of skills:

Qi Control

Pressure Point Strikes

Breathing Techniques

Defense and Blocking

Quick Attacks and Counters

Stealth and Evasion

Throwing Techniques

Concentrated Qi Attacks

Short-term Healing

Agility and Flexibility

Pressure Point Blocks

Qi and Energy Flow Healing

If there was something worth learning, he pursued it without hesitation.

In addition to martial training, he spent countless hours studying herbal medicine, elixirs, and special brews. This consumed most of his financial resources, but he didn’t regret it. Rather than selling all his herbs for profit, he stockpiled them—better to be prepared when someone got injured than to regret it later.

And so, two years passed. But everything changed that day—the day he met him.

---

Chung Hwa was making his way up Mount Hua after another trip to Shaanxi, heavy weights strapped to his arms and legs, a bag filled with stones on his back. He was used to the strain, his body accustomed to the grueling routine. However, today, he encountered something—or rather, someone—unexpected.

A boy, a little older than himself, was struggling to climb the mountain. His clothes were in tatters, his long black hair a tangled mess. The boy was clearly malnourished, his starved frame barely holding itself together.

Chung Hwa paused, observing him.

“Are you climbing to Mount Hua?” he asked.

The boy, caught off guard, turned to look at him. His pink eyes landed on the emblem of Mount Hua embroidered on Chung Hwa’s robes. “You’re from Mount Hua?” he asked, his voice raspy with exhaustion.

“That’s right,” Chung Hwa confirmed, his eyes scanning the boy’s sorry state. He was injured and obviously starving. Despite that, there was a fire in his eyes, something that refused to be extinguished.

“What’s your name?”

The boy’s gaze flickered to the weights strapped to Chung Hwa’s limbs and the stones on his back before meeting his eyes. “…Chung Myung.”

‘Chung Myung? Pure Clarity? Pure Insight? That’s quite the powerful name.’

“I’m Chung Hwa.” He studied the boy for a moment before speaking again. “You do realize Mount Hua stopped accepting new disciples last year, right?”

To his surprise, the boy looked momentarily shocked. But just as quickly, he masked his expression, his face unreadable. “I will become a disciple of Mount Hua,” he declared firmly.

Chung Hwa huffed in amusement. ‘He’s not going to back down, huh? I like him.’

Without another word, he walked ahead of the boy, then knelt down. “Hop on. I’ll take you there.”

Chung Myung hesitated for a moment before climbing onto his back, settling onto the stones. He grabbed onto Chung Hwa’s clothes as the younger boy dashed up the mountain with surprising speed.

As he clung to his unexpected ride, a smirk formed on Chung Myung’s lips. ‘Maybe this year won’t be so bad.’

Unbeknownst to him, his pink eyes lingered on the red-haired boy carrying him up the mountain.

---

Chung Myung’s Perspective:

Dying after defeating the Heavenly Demon was not part of Chung Myung’s afterlife plans.

Waking up over a hundred years later, getting beaten up by a beggar, and discovering that Mount Hua was in ruins?

Definitely not part of the plan.

Now, here he was, barely making his way up Mount Hua’s merciless terrain.

‘I’m halfway there. Just a little more!’ His stomach growled in protest.

He had fought countless battles against powerful enemies, but hunger? Hunger was a foe he couldn’t seem to conquer.

The constant grating of his bones made him grimace. His already-ragged clothes were barely holding together, and the dust clinging to his body only made things worse.

He glanced downward and immediately regretted it. The endless cliffs stretched before his sight, the sheer drop threatening to swallow him whole.

“Damn it! What were they thinking, building the sect on top of this mountain?” he grumbled.

He had wanted to rush straight to Mount Hua and assess the situation, but at this rate, he was going to collapse before he even reached the gate.

“Sahyung, isn’t Mount Hua such an auspicious place? Doesn’t that peak over there look like a sword? It seems like the sect established itself in a good location.”

“…Shit. Damn it.”

What? Sword-like peaks? Very sword-like indeed. The paths to the sect were cutting into his feet like blades.

It was said that Mount Hua was the steepest of the Five Mountains. Only now, in his weakened state, did he truly understand the meaning of those words.

“I’m really going to die.” He wasn’t even exaggerating.

Collapsing onto a flat stretch of the path, he stared up at the sky, completely spent. He still had so far to go. And judging by how empty the area was, Mount Hua was truly suffering.

Just as he was about to force himself back onto his feet, a voice called out from behind him.

“Are you climbing to Mount Hua?”

A child’s voice.

Chung Myung turned his head, blinking at the sight of a red-haired boy—perhaps a year younger than him. His deep black eyes were unreadable, and his long red hair was tied into a high ponytail. His robes bore Mount Hua’s emblem.

“You’re from Mount Hua?” Chung Myung rasped.

“That’s right,” the boy confirmed, tilting his head. After a brief pause, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“…Chung Myung.”

“Chung Hwa,” the boy introduced himself. Then, he said something that made Chung Myung’s eye twitch. “You do know Mount Hua stopped accepting new disciples last year, right?”

‘…What?’

For a brief moment, Chung Myung faltered. But then, he smirked. “I will become a disciple of Mount Hua.”

Chung Hwa let out a short huff before walking ahead, then crouching down. “Hop on. I’ll take you there.”

Chung Myung smirked as he climbed onto the boy’s back. ‘Maybe this brat isn’t so bad after all.’

And just like that, he returned to Mount Hua.

Chapter Text

After finally being accepted into Mount Hua, Chung Myung found himself under the care of Chung Hwa. It was the red-haired boy who took the responsibility of introducing him to the sect’s layout, providing him with proper Mount Hua robes, and even tending to his injuries.

Now, in the quiet seclusion of a small room, Chung Hwa sat beside the bed where Chung Myung was resting, scrutinizing him with a critical gaze. His fingers pressed lightly on several pressure points, checking his condition.

“You should rest for a few days before even thinking about training,” Chung Hwa said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your body is severely exhausted, and I can see traces of freezing injuries.”

As he spoke, he reached for a bag resting beside the small wooden drawer. With practiced movements, he retrieved a small wooden box and handed it to Chung Myung.

“This contains medicinal herbs,” he explained. “Brew them into a tea and drink it two to three times a day. It will help relieve pain and heal minor injuries.”

Chung Myung opened the box, inspecting the dried herbs inside with a discerning eye. ‘Not bad,’ he thought. ‘This brat knows his herbs.’

He closed the box and got up. “If you ever need something, just come to me.” He moved towards the door, his mind already shifting to other matters.

Something he wanted?

There was so much that Chung Myung wanted—things that no one in this sect could possibly provide him.

But then—

Right!

His loose, unruly hair brushed against his face as realization struck him. Turning back, he called out, “Chung Hwa Sahyung! I have something to ask.”

Chung Hwa, who had just reached the doorway, paused and turned his head. “What is it?”

Chung Myung met his gaze, determination burning in his pink eyes.

---

“You damned bastards.”

Fury burned in Chung Myung’s chest as he spat curses into the mountain air. “You had nothing else, so you sold it?”

It was maddening. Even if they had been starving, those things should never have been sold. No matter how shabby or seemingly insignificant, those were the traces left behind by the people who had once lived here. They were the history of Mount Hua—of his sahyungs and the generations before him.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm. Right… Even if Mount Hua had been devastated, there were some things that should have been protected at all costs.

“No, this is better than being completely ruined,” he muttered through gritted teeth. If his ancestors were here to see this, they’d no doubt scold him for his attachment to material things. But damn it—he was angry!

Chung Myung exhaled sharply, trying to calm his raging emotions. He looked out over the mountain range, his usual method for clearing his mind. The endless peaks rising through the clouds had always inspired him, filling him with a sense of pride and purpose. But now…

“Shit.”

The sight only made his stomach churn with frustration.

“The sect has declined.” No, collapsed was a better word.

“Anything of value was sold.” Everything that had once defined Mount Hua was gone. Even the very stones that had paved the courtyards had been pried up and sold off in desperation.

“…Fine. Everything else I can overlook, but this—!”

His rage flared anew. The martial arts—the heart of Mount Hua—were in absolute ruins.

“This is beyond pathetic.”

Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the sky. There was so much to fix that he didn’t even know where to begin.

“Even the martial arts have been twisted beyond recognition.”

He thought of Un Am, one of the elders. The man barely qualified as a third-rate disciple. In the past, Chung Myung wouldn’t have even considered him worthy of being a student at Mount Hua. That was how much the martial arts had deteriorated.

“…What am I supposed to do?” He groaned, rubbing his temples. He needed to rebuild the sect, but where would he even start? It felt like trying to empty the ocean with a single cup.

Should he reveal his identity? That idea was laughable. No one would believe him. If he were in their position, he wouldn’t believe himself either. And even if they somehow did, what could he prove? His current body was too weak. If they demanded proof through martial arts, he’d have nothing to show them.

If someone in the sect had bad intentions, they could kill him before he even had the chance to grow stronger.

That was no good either.

“Then I’ll just have to rebuild the sect from the shadows.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Honestly, fighting the Demonic Sect would be easier.”

The thought made him shake his head. He owed Mount Hua too much to ignore its current state. The only reason he had been able to stand proudly as the world’s best swordsman was because of Mount Hua. He had taken so much from this sect—his skills, his identity, his pride. And what had he given back? Nothing but a momentary victory before his death.

“Still, it’s Mount Hua.”

He sighed and sat up, dusting himself off. He had work to do.

And then, his thoughts drifted to Chung Hwa.

“…That brat is strange.”

Something about Chung Hwa didn’t quite fit with the rest of Mount Hua. Compared to the third-rate, first-rate, and even the elders, Chung Hwa was undoubtedly stronger. That in itself was already suspicious. But beyond that, he was knowledgeable in medicine, herbs, and healing techniques.

A talent like that… shouldn’t have gone unnoticed.

‘How did he end up here?’

Given his abilities, any sect would have tried to recruit him. And yet, here he was in Mount Hua, a sect in decline.

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes.

‘Well, it’s better that he’s here rather than being used by those rotten sects.’

He exhaled through his nose and stretched. ‘At least that brat understands the importance of basics and physical training.’ Chung Hwa’s thin physique was deceptive. Beneath his oversized robes, he had well-developed muscles from years of rigorous training.

“Tch.”

Shaking his head, Chung Myung pushed himself to his feet. “Enough thinking. Time to head back.”

---

“Where did you go?”

“I was looking around.”

“…Looking around?” Un Am eyed him suspiciously. There was something odd about the boy’s behavior. When he first arrived, he had seemed quiet and respectful. But now…

Now he gave off an entirely different energy.

Was it because he had been a beggar? Un Am sighed. It was normal for a child with that kind of background to act a little… rough around the edges.

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Un Am frowned. “Then follow me.”

“Huh?”

“The sect leader wants to see you.”

Chung Myung blinked before nodding. Well, it wasn’t like he could avoid this forever. Might as well get it over with.

Chapter Text

Chung Hwa was making his way toward the White Plum Blossom Dormitory, his robes damp with sweat from his training session. The afternoon sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the courtyard. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the pleasant ache of exertion settle into his muscles.

“A cold shower would be nice…” he murmured to himself, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Ah, I want to eat condensed milk rice cake, jade lotus candy, or maybe some plum wine sugar candies…” His mind drifted to the sweet indulgences he’d been craving lately.

‘Maybe I should go to Weinan later and have tea with Mister Dong-Jun… and while I’m at it, get the thing Chung Myung requested. I just hope the exact ones are there.’

Just as he was nearing the dormitory, a loud crashing noise echoed through the air—

BANG!

Chung Hwa froze mid-step. His eyes narrowed.

‘What the f—’

The sound had undoubtedly come from the dormitory. A sense of foreboding crept up his spine as he resumed walking, albeit at a more cautious pace.

Upon reaching the entrance, he was greeted by a sight that made him want to turn right back around and pretend he saw nothing.

The disciples of Mount Hua—his sahyungs—were all sprawled across the floor, their foreheads pressed firmly against the wooden planks in what could only be described as a desperate bow of submission. Bruises and welts littered their bodies, and in front of them, standing with all the grace of a victorious warlord, was none other than his sajil—Chung Myung.

Meanwhile, Yun Jong was standing behind the little demon, dutifully massaging his shoulders with the look of a man whose soul had already ascended to the afterlife.

Chung Hwa pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘I don’t want to know what happened here… at all.’

“Shouldn’t you be helping out in living a quiet life?” Chung Myung’s voice rang out, light and almost cheerful, as if he wasn’t standing amidst the ruins of his own sahyungs’ dignity. “Shouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” the beaten disciples chorused in unison, their voices quivering.

“We were short-sighted!”

Chung Hwa sighed. ‘I can feel the headache coming.’

“What’s going on here?” he finally asked, his gaze sweeping over the scene.

Chung Myung turned to him with an innocent smile that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Oh, Chung Hwa Sahyung, it seems like you’ve just returned from training, am I right?”

Chung Hwa blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. “…That’s right. Also, sajil… What exactly happened here?”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue, shaking his head with an air of profound disappointment. “These sahyungs thought they could bully me.” He gestured towards the crumpled bodies of the disciples with a careless wave of his hand. “So I had to educate them.”

Chung Hwa’s lips twitched. His eyes flickered to Yun Jong, then Jo Gul, then the others, taking in their battered states.

‘I see… So, what Chung Myung is saying is that Yun Jong Sahyung, Jo Gul Sahyung, and the others picked on him, but in the end, Chung Myung ended up beating them instead… I got it.

…No, I didn’t get it at all!’

Chung Hwa rubbed his temple before sighing. “Then I’ll be going to my room. I assume you can handle this on your own?”

Chung Myung’s grin stretched wider, sending a fresh wave of terror through the already trembling disciples. “Of course! You can rest easy, Sahyung.”

‘…I’m not dealing with this mess. I have too many things to do,’ Chung Hwa decided, promptly turning away from the carnage. He completely missed the pleading looks his sahyungs shot him, their silent cries for salvation swiftly extinguished when Chung Myung’s gaze flickered toward them.

—

Chung Myung clicked his tongue as he surveyed the scene before him.

‘I need to deal with these guys properly.’

The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous the situation felt. Mount Hua—his Mount Hua—had never been a place for such weaklings! His sahyungs in his past life would have wept blood if they saw the sorry state of the sect now.

“Attention.”

The instant the word left his lips, the disciples scrambled to their feet, standing at stiff, nervous attention.

“No matter how bad Mount Hua’s current state is,” Chung Myung began, his voice deceptively calm, “the disciples of Mount Hua should at least have some dignity.” His eyes gleamed. “And some skills.”

The disciples swallowed thickly, some subtly shifting their feet as if contemplating an escape route. Chung Myung clicked his tongue, already anticipating their thoughts. ‘Tch, like a bunch of frightened rabbits.’

“You need to get back to Mount Hua’s initial state.”

Silence.

The disciples exchanged hesitant glances.

‘What does that even mean?’

‘How did we even end up in this situation?’

‘Did we sell our souls in our past lives to deserve this?’

Their silent cries for help remained unanswered.

“Alright,” Chung Myung continued, stretching his arms lazily. “Who here is the most aware of Mount Hua’s current situation?”

Nobody moved.

Then, slowly, as if controlled by some unspoken agreement, all their gazes turned to a single person.

“…”

Jo Gul’s eyes widened in betrayal.

“Hand,” Chung Myung said.

“…”

“Raise your hand!”

With the face of a man marching toward his doom, Jo Gul reluctantly lifted his hand. His expression screamed ‘I’ll remember this, you bastards!’

“Sahyung Jo Gul,” Chung Myung said, his voice far too pleasant.

“…Yes,” Jo Gul croaked.

“Even if you are my sahyung, don’t you think you’re being a little too stiff with me?”

“N-Not at all!” Jo Gul immediately denied, hastily rubbing his neck. “I just—uh, my neck felt stiff! That’s all!”

Chung Myung’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he hummed in satisfaction. “Good.” He clapped his hands. “Now, follow me.”

“…Follow you where?”

“My room.”

Jo Gul’s face went pale. “Why?”

“No particular reason.”

‘Lies! That’s a lie! You’re definitely planning something!'

“The rest of you can rest for today.” Chung Myung waved the others off, much to their silent relief. “We’ll pick things up again tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sajil!” They didn’t need to be told twice.

Meanwhile, Jo Gul was staring at Chung Myung like a man who had just received a death sentence.

“Let’s go, Sahyung,” Chung Myung grinned, motioning him forward.

With the posture of a condemned prisoner, Jo Gul followed him into the room, his fate unknown.

—

“Sit comfortably.”

“… I’d rather stand.”

“Don’t worry and sit. I won’t hit you.”

“It’s not because of that.”

Jo Gul hesitated before speaking, his voice carrying a hint of suffering.

“I can’t seem to bend my back after being hung from the ceiling. So standing is fine.”

“…”

Chung Myung coughed lightly.

“So.”

“… So?”

“Talk comfortably, Sahyung.”

“… Excuse me?”

“It’s weird to hear you talking so respectfully. Just speak normally.”

“Yes.”

“…Comfortably?”

“Yes.”

Chung Myung sighed and shook his head. Well, one day, this stiff idiot would loosen up. Maybe when the sun rose from the west.

“So why did you call me?” Jo Gul asked.

“Ah, I have a few questions for you. I’d like you to answer in as much detail as you can.”

“Alright.”

Chung Myung tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“So, are most of the disciples here from merchant families?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

He clicked his tongue. Merchants. It wasn’t unusual for merchant children to want to learn martial arts, but Mount Hua had never openly accepted them in the past.

It wasn’t out of disdain for merchants. If anything, Mount Hua had always welcomed those with humble backgrounds. The real issue was that merchant families only sent their children to learn martial arts—not to dedicate themselves to the sect.

‘So most of these kids will leave when they’re done learning.’

That meant Mount Hua was raising disciples who would eventually abandon it. That was a problem.

“Then why are you all here?” Chung Myung asked.

Jo Gul scratched his head. “To be honest, my father didn’t like the idea of sending me to Mount Hua. But there weren’t many sects that would accept me. Even though Mount Hua has fallen, it still holds some prestige as a sect. Having the name of Mount Hua attached to me would be useful in business later on.”

Chung Myung frowned.

‘So that’s how far we’ve fallen?’

In the past, people came to Mount Hua because they admired it. Now, they came because they had no better options. It made his stomach churn.

He sighed. “So, are you planning to return to your family after learning martial arts?”

Jo Gul shrugged. “That’s the usual path.”

“Is that why this place feels so half-hearted?”

Jo Gul hesitated before answering. “Well… things were really bad two years ago. I mean, Mount Hua has been in decline for a long time, but two years ago, it was at its worst.”

“Two years ago?”

“Yeah. That was when Chung Hwa came.”

At the mention of the name, Chung Myung raised an eyebrow. “Chung Hwa?”

Jo Gul nodded. “He was really stubborn about getting permission to leave Mount Hua. Of course, he was rejected at first—third-class disciples aren’t allowed to leave the mountain. But then, he managed to convince them to give him a chance. He didn’t actually leave for six months, though, which was strange at first.”

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes. “And then?”

“Six months later, he finally left. When he came back, he had six hundred thousand coins.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, it was insane.” Jo Gul chuckled. “Apparently, he had been making and selling things in secret—carving wooden toys, drying and selling herbs for tea, stuff like that. He ended up selling them to this famous shopkeeper and medic in Weinan. I think his name was Yeo Dong-Jun?”

‘Weinan? That’s not even that far.’

Chung Myung rubbed his chin. The name Yeo Dong-Jun seemed familiar. He must have been a merchant with some influence in the region.

“So, he made money for Mount Hua?”

“Yeah. The Sect Leader used that money to buy more food and clothes for the disciples. He even started fixing up some of the run-down buildings. At first, the elders and Sect Leader were walking on air—like they couldn’t believe it. And after that, they gave Chung Hwa free permission to leave Mount Hua whenever he wanted. Since then, he’s been going to Weinan once or twice a month.”

“…Interesting.”

Chung Myung’s gaze darkened slightly.

‘A third-class disciple earned money for Mount Hua?’

That was impressive. But what caught his attention more was the sheer methodical nature of it. Selling tea, wooden toys, even herbs? That wasn’t something a regular disciple would even think of doing. And six hundred thousand coins? That was a massive sum for a single person to earn in such a short time.

“What else?”

Jo Gul hesitated, then continued, “He’s built quite a reputation for himself outside. People call him the Scarlet Scholar, the Jade Lotus Trader, the Merchant Saint of Mount Hua, the Phoenix of Mount Hua… But the most famous ones are Golden Lotus of Mount Hua and The Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua.”

“…”

Chung Myung’s expression twisted.

A Hidden Dragon? A Golden Lotus?

‘What kind of nonsense is this?’

“Apart from that, he also sells handmade storybooks, gem and jade accessories, besides toys and medicinal herbs.”

“Enough.”

Jo Gul stopped talking.

Chung Myung sat in silence, processing the information. His gaze grew distant.

‘…He’s different from the others.’

There was no hesitation in the way Chung Hwa moved. His actions were calculated, purposeful. A merchant who didn’t just learn Mount Hua’s martial arts but actively supported the sect financially? That was unheard of.

‘He’s doing what I should be doing.’

Chung Myung had been so focused on rebuilding Mount Hua’s martial strength that he had completely ignored the financial side of things. But this kid—this so-called ‘Golden Lotus’—had been taking care of it from the shadows all along.

‘Hmph. So that’s how it is.’

He had to see this for himself.

“Alright. You can go now.”

Jo Gul blinked. “That’s it?”

“Yes. But before you leave…”

“…Yes?”

“When does morning training start?”

“Seven.”

“Tell everyone to be ready by five and gather in the hall.”

“…Five?”

“Is that a problem?”

“…Not at all!” Jo Gul forced a grin. “I love morning training! Really!”

“That’s the spirit. Now go.”

Jo Gul turned to leave but hesitated. “Uh… what about Chung Hwa Sahyung?”

“What about him?”

“Well, he starts training at four…”

Chung Myung’s lips curled into a smirk. “Tell him to gather too.”

Jo Gul’s face went pale.

“…I’ll let him know.”

As Jo Gul left, Chung Myung lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

‘This is going to be interesting.’

For the first time in a while, he found himself looking forward to the next day.

Chapter Text

The next day at Dawn

Woong!

Chung Myung stretched his body

Dantian.

His dantian, which used to be small and feeble, was now in a period of noticeable growth. The energy which accumulated had grown to be clearly recognizable.

Woong!

With every breath he took, Chung Myung could feel his energy resonate and purify his body.

Bright and clean energy.

Even Chung Myung was taken aback; despite having lived for decades, he had never witnessed such a clean and transparent energy before. His dantian was now accumulating this energy. Although the size was limited and wielding enormous strength would be difficult, with time, more power would accrue, and he would be able to reach new heights he had never reached before.

“…How long will it take?”

After cultivating, Chung Myung’s face distorted.

In order to reach his former peak and even exceed it, he needed time. Mount Hua was facing its doom now; would it wait for him to gain power?

Chung Myung pushed aside and suppressed his anger as he analyzed the situation.

‘Let’s get this straight.’

The problems in Mount Hua are innumerable. If he had to pick one out, Chung Myung wouldn’t be able to decide which was most important. However, there were three things he knew.

“No money, no martial arts, and no talent.”

So, what is wrong?

Any one of these issues was bad enough, but when they were all piled on top of each other, he could feel his stomach curling in on itself.

What was the biggest problem?

‘Young talent.’

Chung Myung simplified it.

Money could be earned, and he has a wealth of martial arts knowledge that could be taught naturally.

‘So, where do we get talented youth?’

Talent wasn’t something Chung Myung could influence.

He couldn’t just go out and kidnap talented kids to save Mount Hua. And finding out who was talented and who wasn’t simply by looking at them was impossible.

If so, he would have to go for the children of prestigious families.

‘Tsk, what a waste but that brat- Chung Hwa's -a talent, anyone can see that with just one glance. But a talent without a proper master? Hah! What’s the point of having talent if there’s no one to teach him properly?’

Chung Myung clenched his fists.

What would change even if he blamed himself? He had no choice but to make the best of what was available to him.

It was clear that the people here weren’t very good, and there was a shortage of teaching staff. But, if the people here are deficient, they must be taught, and if they are broken, they must be fixed.

“Of course, I never took in a disciple.”

Old memories came to his mind.

When he was old enough to accept a disciple, Sahyung asked.

-Chung Myung.

-Yes, Sahyung?

-Now is the time to take in a disciple. How do you plan on teaching your disciples?

-Do you even need to ask?

-What do you mean?

-Spare the rod, spoil the child. Should they make a mistake, they will be beaten. Even dogs will walk on their hind legs if trained to do so. I assume humans can’t be too different, right?

-…let’s talk again later.

After that, Sahyung never brought up him taking on a disciple again.

“I never expected to receive so many disciples at once.”

Chung Myung’s lips curled into a smile. If anyone had seen that, they would surely think of it as a wicked smile.

“… I am sleepy.”

“Why do we need to gather at dawn?”

“Great Sahyung. Isn’t this too much?”

Yun Jong closed his eyes.

‘Just be quiet, will you! You bastards.’

The rules of Mount Hua are relatively strict, but the children weren’t yet forced to give up on worldly affairs. They are children from families that control their own regions, even if they are not from famous families. As a result, they can’t stand being inconvenienced and aren’t used to being patient.

Even though it had only been half a day since they had been beaten, they still let loose with their complaints.

Yun Jong lifted his head and looked at Jo Gul. At least Jo Gul kept silent in this situation.

Well.

It wasn’t that the others didn’t understand the situation. Despite complaining, everyone did come over here as requested.

Yun Jong stared at the dorms.

‘Where did that monster even come from?’

Chung Myung wielded a broken chair leg with a demon-like appearance, defeating over 30 kids in an instant.

Brrrrr

When he thought about it, chills passed through his body.

“… but who the hell is he?”

They were words that expressed everyone’s feelings.

“As if I could know.”

“There were more than 30 people. Is it even possible for the seniors to control a crowd like that?”

I don’t know

But what was certain was that even the great disciples wouldn’t be able to imitate what that monster did.

“That kid only joined us yesterday. He must have learned martial arts somewhere else already, right?”

“haaa, anyway. Does it make sense to be here without even having anything to eat?”

Everyone was confused.

Even Yun Jong, who was older and lived longest in Mount Hua, couldn’t figure it out, but he knew that something was up.

“Is he going to hit us again?”

“…”

It wasn’t known who said it, but everyone went stiff upon hearing those words.

“Is that possible?”

“It could be that he wants us to remember last night’s embarrassment…”

“What if we fail?”

“…”

Worry spread among the crowd. Everyone turned their heads. Jo Gul, who was standing there, spoke.

“If we're talking about how monstrous he is, isn't Chung Hwa Sajil the same? He’s a monster too, but unlike Chung Myung, he isolates himself from us unless we approach him. And—” Jo Gul looked at the others.

“If you all don’t want to get hit again, just stay quiet and follow what he says.”

“…Jo Gul Sahyung.”

Jo Gul was known to have the best skills among the disciples, yet even he was shaking.

‘Crazy!’

What?

Get hit again?

Get hit and end up stuck in the ceiling?

Jo Gul was confident in his skills, but even he couldn’t compare to this monster despite being called a genius in Mount Hua.

And Jo Gul Sahyung was right about Chung Hwa too. Ever since he came to Mount Hua, he had been a monster—they had just ignored it.

In the end, martial arts are something people learn. Even without proper teaching or high-level martial arts, he was confident that Chung Hwa could stand toe to toe with the genius disciples of the most prestigious sects.

However, that confidence flew away after just one punch struck his jaw.

“Then, why were we asked to gather here?”

The disciples tilted their heads, looking at the strange tools ahead of them.

“Right, how do you use these?”

Long wooden rods and then a sturdy pouch, large enough to fit a person’s head, filled with something and…

“Why prepare pebbles and sand pouches?”

“Do I look like I know?”

As everyone was groaning, the door swung open.

“…”

All the clamoring mouths went silent at once and looked at the person. Chung Myung slowly walked out.

But on his face, the annoyance was evident.

‘Why does he look bothered!’

‘If you are so bothered, don’t gather us like this!’

Chung Myung stopped and looked around, his eyes scanning the group as he asked,

“Is everyone here?”

“Yes!”

“Keep quiet. The Sasuks will wake up if you make too much noise.”

“Ah- but Chung Hwa isn’t here-”

“I’m here.”

The disciples turned their heads toward the voice, only to see Chung Hwa standing there, his limbs weighed down with metal and stone, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin.

Chung Myung smirked. ‘Not bad. Not bad at all.’

Yun Jong raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been climbing since morning? And the other training too?” He sweatdropped.

Chung Hwa nodded casually, “Yeah. Last night, Jo Gul Sahyung told me that Chung Myung ordered everyone to gather at 5 am. So, I woke up earlier, around 3 am, to finish my morning training and get a few things out of the way.”

He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“...”

Chung Myung’s smile widened, ‘I like him far better than those scoundrels.’

Crack, crack.

Chung Myung stretched his neck, loosening up. Then he spoke, his voice deep and serious.

“Well, we’re going to be living together for the foreseeable future. I don’t know how things will turn out, but maybe we’ll even end up spending the rest of our lives together.”

There was something almost ominous in his tone, but his eyes twinkled with an odd sense of excitement.

‘I will go home even if that means death!’

‘I’ll make it down. I’ll make it down the mountain at any cost!’

Even those who had decided to live and die with the Mount Hua sect had second thoughts upon hearing those words.

“But in my opinion…”

Chung Myung smiled.

“You people are too weak.”

“…”

“…”

The most insulting and disgraceful word to those who walk the path of martial arts is “weak.” Even if they were only here from merchant families to build a name for themselves, it was painful to take such an insult to their faces.

Chung Hwa simply looked at Chung Myung, his thoughts drifting. ‘He’s not really wrong… Sahyungs, even the Sasuks, are too weak. I could point out hundreds of mistakes just by watching them train... if it were Choi Han instead of me... I don’t even want to think about it.’

“Shit.”

The problem was that they couldn’t object to it.

These were the words of a person who beat 30 people at once without being hit. No one could deny it.

“Well, even I agree that martial arts aren’t everything in life. But, you all chose to study and learn as Mount Hua sect members. Then, you should aim to be as strong as you can be, right?”

“…”

“So, starting from today, you will practice with me every morning. It’s nice, right?”

As if that would be nice!

Someone raised their hand when they saw Chung Myung’s shameless attitude.

“What is it?”

“Do we have to do this?”

Chung Myung looked at the one who asked the question with a bitter gaze and then turned to Yun Jong.

Yun Jong who looked at Chung Myung flinched as he said.

“It’s…because not everyone was there at that time…”

“Ah, right.”

There were people who didn’t get hit.

Some didn’t participate in that bullying. Even if word of what happened had spread, not many would believe that and step back, right?

“You don’t want too then?”

“You seem like a newcomer, so why are you talking all this nonsense? No matter what, you should at least mind your manners.”

Chung Myung nodded at those words.

“Yes. A person must be polite. In that sense, those who have no intention of becoming strong or training. Raise your hand!”

If a hundred people gather, there will be at least one or two who don’t care, and as those one or two hands come up, others will start to raise.

Roughly a dozen or so.

“Right, right. Martial arts aren’t everything. Come on, let’s go inside.”

“Can we go?”

“Sure.”

The faces of Jo Gul and Yun Jong went pale at those words.

‘You idiots! ‘Let’s go’ is different from ‘you go’!’

Chung Hwa raised his brow and looked at Yun Jong and Jo Gul to ask but stopped himself when he saw their pale faces.

‘They are walking into a hell of their own making!’

The children, unaware of their situation, smiled brightly and entered the dorms. And Chung Myung followed them with a smile.

Tak!

The door was neatly closed behind them.

“…”

No one dared to open their mouths as they looked at the dorm.

Contrarily, there were no screams either.

But.

‘That’s…’

Yun Jong looked at the dorm. The entire building was swaying slightly, and it was obvious what was happening inside.

A short time passed.

Kiik!

The door opened.

And from the inside, the kids sprinted out with their might as if they had seen a ghost. And then came over and took their positions.

“Tsk.”

Chung Myung, who came out, began to speak once more.

“Who among you doesn’t want to practice?”

“None!”

“Be quiet! Others will wake up.”

“None.”

“Good.”

Chung Hwa looked at his so-called Sahyungs like he could not believe his eyes.

Chung Myung clapped once and began to move.

“I, as an instructor, like to make people strong. The future of Mount Hua is bright! I will do everything I can to make you stronger.”

“…”

“Now, let’s begin.”

Seeing the sun rising in the distance. Yun Jong tightly closed his eyes.

The future of Mount Hua seemed bright, but for everyone else, the outlook appeared bleak—except for Chung Hwa’s.

—

“Hm?”

Frowning at the bright light peering through the window, Un Geom reluctantly woke himself from bed.

‘These brats.’

The laws of Mount Hua were strict. In the past, when the students would share their teacher’s residence, the disciple was bound to rise earlier and wake up their teacher then prepare breakfast for him.

Although, the times had changed, and such doctrines had fallen from standards. Nonetheless, it was customary for a disciple to come, wake them, and greet them.

But today, no one came.

“Haaaa. These kids.”

Let them go for a while, and they turn lazy.

Un Geom frowned as he got up.

If any of the disciples were awake, they should have come to wake him up. That means that all the kids inside the White Plum Blossom Dorms were still asleep. No, just because they didn’t come to wake him up doesn’t mean that they must be sleeping.

‘Come to think of it.’

He remembered a new child joining the dormitory yesterday.

“Are those brats doing it again…”

He already knew that these young disciples of his would put new recruits through some form of hazing and that they were hellbent on seeing it through. As a teacher, he felt that he should put an end to it, but Un Geom was conflicted as he also believed it helped them bond together.

Jo Gul might take it too far but, knowing that Yun Jong was there, he was confident that no problems would arise.

However, the fact that no one came over to greet and wake him meant that things had gone sour yesterday.

Un Geom furrowed his brows as he quickly changed his clothes. Putting on his robe and sword at the waist, he went out.

‘First, I’ll have to check.’

Determined, he took long strides towards the White Plum Blossom Dormitory house.

Thinking that he would have to wake the kids with a huge scare, it happened the moment he turned the corner.

“Go…”

‘Out?’

Un Geom, who was about to yell, took a deep breath and choked back his words. His eyes widened at what he saw.

‘W-what is this?’

He rubbed his eyes in disbelief at the strange sight unfolding before him.

‘What? Am I in hell?’

Such a strange thought briefly flashed through his mind before he came back to his senses.

This is Mount Hua! The scene unfolding in front of him was happening in Mount Hua. But he

He couldn’t understand why this was happening.

Had he gone delirious, or was he looking at something wrong?

Un Geom, who found himself rubbing his eyes once more to clear his sight, looked at what was happening again. However, nothing changed.

“Uh…”

A despairing chorus echoed within his ears as Un Geom stifled back a groan, unsure of how to react.

“Ugh!”

“Ah… I’m going to die. Ugh!”

“Mother…take me home.”

Un Geom stared blankly at the kids who were moaning pitifully.

“…”

Were these the same young disciples he knew?

Although their ignorance would sometimes cause anger, and their wickedness would lead to disappointment, the children he knew were still innocent kids. He always felt warmth from them.

But from the kids right now in front of him, there was no warmth of life.

‘Who are these ragged kids?’

Were these the kids he knew? No matter what he thought, these kids looked like worn-out beggars.

Un Geom peered around.

“Kuaa.”

“I am done… I am really going to die.”

Un Geom looked at the faces of the kids who were sprawled across the area.

‘Are these my disciples?’

A little rough…no, their condition was horrible, but those lying around in a beggar-like state were indeed his disciples.

‘What have they done?’

Why were the kids who were so soft yesterday in such a dire condition?

Wooden swords and strange pouches lay scattered around the ragged children.

Un Geom knew what he had to do. There was a limit to what his mind could guess, and what’s more, there were more than a hundred mouths here that could answer his questions.

“What the hell has happened here?”

As soon as he asked, the kids, who were lying on the floor groaning, looked at him.

The eyes of the half-dead disciples came to life!

“Sasuk!”

“Lord Sasuk!”

“Oh, Heavenly Lord!”

They all were speaking strangely, but it was clear that these kids were welcoming him warmly. They were even shedding tears.

It was unusual for him, whose mission was keeping the youth controlled, to see them greet him with such enthusiasm. No, it wasn’t uncommon, but this was his first time. It seemed so genuine and heartfelt.

“Cough! Sasuk!”

“Why are you here so late! Why!”

“I missed Sasuk so much!”

What were they saying?

Strangely, every corner of his heart was proud looking at these kids who were always ignorant, welcoming him so fiercely. An unknown emotion flooded in.

But Un Geom soon shook his head and collected his thoughts.

‘N-no.’

It wasn’t the time for him to be impressed like this. Upon examining the youth before him, it seemed like they had fought some fierce battle; they were battered in dirt and sweat. Un Geom’s heart ached as he saw their pitifully trembling limbs and desired the truth of the situation.

“Just what happened here?”

The children, who looked like they were about to cry, hesitated and didn’t say anything when the question came—just a glance to the back.

‘Are they concerned about speaking up?’

Un Geom’s gaze followed their line of sight. There was another kid who was working hard.

“Jo Gul?”

“…No. The other one.”

“Other?”

From Jo Gul, he looked even further back.

“H-he is?”

Un Geom’s eyes seemed to widen beyond their limits at what he saw.

‘The new kid?’

What was his name? Chung Myung? What is he doing?

Un Geom tilted his head. Chung Myung was doing something bizarre. He had a wooden rod on

his shoulder with several large pouches hanging from either side.

“What is in those pouches?”

“Those are dirt bags.”

A movement caught his eye beside Chung Myung.

"That's- a boulder!" Un Geom's jaw dropped in disbelief.

Chung Hwa was doing push-ups with a massive boulder on his back. Not only that, but all of his usual weights were strapped on as well.

"What the hell is going on?"

Chapter Text

“Un Geom stood in the training hall, his gaze fixed on the exhausted disciples sprawled across the ground. Their limbs trembled, their robes drenched in sweat. Even their breaths were ragged, as if they had fought a war instead of merely completing morning training.

At the center of it all stood a child—no, two children. One of them, a boy with strikingly deep red hair tied in a high ponytail, calmly sipped from a waterskin. Despite the sweat on his pale skin, he looked perfectly fine. The other, a shorter child with a sharp glint in his eyes, cracked his knuckles ominously, his expression unreadable.

Un Geom sighed and crossed his arms.

“What is going on here?” he asked the most obvious question.

Chung Myung, who received the question, glanced around nonchalantly before speaking as if the entire situation was no big deal.

“It’s nothing much.”

“…What?”

“It’s just that, from today on, we all decided to exercise together in the mornings. But since it was our first time, we may have overdone it a bit. It must be because everyone was so motivated.”

‘Motivated?’

Un Geom looked past Chung Myung to the other disciples. They were waving their hands desperately, as if begging for salvation, yet their mouths remained tightly shut. However, as soon as Chung Myung slightly turned his head, their hands dropped as if they had never moved in the first place.

‘What sort of act is this?’

It was absurd. It was unclear how things had developed to this point, but one thing was certain—his disciples were afraid of this new child.
No, not just one child.

Un Geom’s gaze flickered to the red-haired boy, who continued drinking his water unbothered by the chaos. That boy, Chung Hwa, was an enigma. He rarely mingled with the other disciples and spent most of his time alone or in the company of Jo Gul and Yun Jong. He had never caused any trouble before, but now he was willingly standing beside Chung Myung.

Un Geom narrowed his eyes. “Did you say morning exercise?”

“Yes.”

“You.”

Un Geom directed his stern gaze at the young troublemaker. “The White Plum Blossom Dormitory House has its own rules. Who told you to reduce your bedtime and practice as you please?”

Chung Myung’s expression remained unchanged as he spoke, utterly unconcerned. “Then I won’t do it.”

“…huh?”

“I thought that training would be helpful. But you said no, so I won’t do it.”

Un Geom blinked. “You thought that training would be helpful?”

“Yes.”

“It is useful,” a calm voice chimed in.

Un Geom turned his head and saw Chung Hwa setting his waterskin aside. He wiped his sweat with a sleeve before continuing, “It may be extreme, but it’s effective. Mount Hua lacks manpower. That means, unlike other sects, we don’t have the luxury of growing stronger through traditional methods. If our sect cannot provide it, we must find our own means.”

A heavy silence fell.

Un Geom frowned slightly. He had always known that Chung Hwa was intelligent, but this was beyond mere wisdom—this was insight. Even among the elders, few would recognize Mount Hua’s plight and adapt accordingly. Yet, here was a twelve-year-old who already saw reality for what it was.

Before Un Geom could say anything, Chung Myung shrugged. “You think it won’t help?”

“…”

“…”

An awkward air passed between them. Un Geom groaned internally. He understood the logic, but the way Chung Myung spoke was infuriatingly arrogant.

“I felt that it would be enough to learn martial arts from Sasuk, but the disciples must also show effort in our own way. The essence of martial arts comes from the body, so I believed this strength training could improve our overall results.”

That was true. The theory was sound.

“Your words are correct,” Un Geom admitted. “However, can you say that being forced to train under threat of coercion is correct?”

“Coercion?”

Chung Myung turned to glance at his Sahyungs. “Ahhh, Sasuk. How could I ever force my Sahyungs? When I said I was going to train, they said they also wanted to join in and followed me.”

A shameless lie.

The disciples’ expressions twisted, but they kept their mouths shut. Meanwhile, Chung Hwa nodded in agreement.

Un Geom sighed. ‘I can’t even refute this.’

If he openly accused Chung Myung of coercion, it would crush the pride of the disciples who had been dragged along. Moreover, if he stated that they joined only out of fear, it would make them look weak.

“…Give me one month,” Chung Myung suddenly declared. “I won’t let it affect our regular training, and in one month, I will deliver good results.”

Un Geom hesitated, but before he could speak, a low chuckle sounded beside him.

“One month?” Chung Hwa smirked. “Why not ask for a lifetime, Sajil?”

Chung Myung grinned, but there was something dark behind his expression.

Un Geom felt a chill.

‘These kids…’

Their confidence wasn’t baseless, but the sheer audacity of their words was shocking. He had seen many disciples before, but none like these two.

Finally, he exhaled. “Very well. I’ll allow it for a month.”

Chung Myung’s grin widened. “You won’t regret it.”

“Oh, I hope not.”

Un Geom looked at the exhausted disciples. “Then, make sure you have breakfast and come in time for morning training.”

As he turned to leave, he suddenly stopped. “Ah, that’s right. Since training is so important, you no longer have to wake me in the mornings.”

The disciples paled.

‘He abandoned us.’

Meanwhile, Chung Hwa retrieved a pouch from his sleeve, casually pulling out dried fruit and taking a bite. “Entertaining, indeed,” he mused as he watched the despairing disciples.

Crack.

Chung Myung cracked his knuckles. He turned, his dark smile sending shivers down their spines.

“Now then, shall we have a little chat in the Dormitory House before breakfast?”

The disciples swallowed hard.

“…Yes.”

And thus, another day in Mount Hua began, one where the disciples lost their last shred of hope—and where Chung Hwa enjoyed his snacks, watching them suffer.

Chapter Text

The night had settled over Mount Hua, a cool breeze drifting through the paper screens of the big room. The soft glow of moonlight illuminated the sparse furnishings—a simple wooden bed, many desks filled with different things, bookshelves, shelves and the massive map beside the bed, and many scattered scrolls on martial arts and medicinal knowledge.

Chung Hwa sat cross-legged on his bed, his hands resting on his knees as he controlled his breathing. Slowly, he sank into meditation, allowing his consciousness to drift inward. Tonight, he would confirm something that had been lurking in the back of his mind for a while now.

Ever since he started consuming the various herbs, elixirs, and medicines he had collected over the past two years, he could feel a change. His body had strengthened, his endurance had sharpened, but most importantly, his cultivation had advanced at a steady pace.

As he sent his Qi inward, it traveled through his meridians, circulating with fluid ease. His dantian came into view in his mind’s eye—a core of swirling energy, far more expansive than he had expected.

‘…This is beyond what I thought.’

His dantian wasn’t just larger; it was vast, stable, and dense. The sheer amount of Qi stored within him was something that would take most disciples a decade or more to accumulate. It was comparable to an elder’s—perhaps not the strongest among them, but far beyond the level of an average outer disciple.

‘No wonder my control over Qi has been so smooth lately.’

In his second life as Kim Rok Soo, he had experienced life in a world filled with superhumans, abilities, monsters, and war. Though the mechanics differed, his past experiences had trained his mind to think logically about power and growth. In this life, he applied that same mentality, using what he had read about Murim cultivation and martial arts to guide his training, thanks to ‘record’ ability, he could recall every details of those novels.

Unlike the other disciples, he didn’t rely solely on Mount Hua’s teachings. He supplemented them with additional conditioning, targeted herbal remedies, and self-study. And now, the results were clear.

‘I must have absorbed more than I realized. The medicine and elixirs alone wouldn’t be enough—my constant training and Qi refinement must have pushed my dantian to expand further.’

He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes. A flicker of satisfaction passed through him, but it was quickly tempered by a thought that had been pressing on his mind since earlier that day.

‘Chung Myung…’

The training session that morning replayed in his mind. The sheer intensity of it, the way the other disciples were pushed beyond their limits, and most importantly—how effortlessly Chung Myung controlled the entire situation.

There was no doubt. That brat was the real deal.

‘He knows what he’s doing.’

The way he trained, the way he spoke—it was all calculated, as if he already knew the most effective methods for strengthening the disciples. His approach wasn’t just based on instinct; it was built on knowledge and experience. That alone made him different from the others.

And that made him valuable.

‘It’ll be beneficial to stick with him.’

Chung Hwa wasn’t arrogant enough to ignore the potential gains. Even though his own cultivation had skyrocketed, he wasn’t naive. Knowledge and experience mattered just as much as talent, and Chung Myung had both in abundance.

His lips curled into a slight smirk.

‘I wonder just how much I can learn from him.’

The thought was amusing. To the others, Chung Myung was a monstrous junior, a terrifying force of nature that had taken over their training regime. But to him, he was something else entirely—a walking opportunity.

And Chung Hwa had never been one to let opportunities slip by.

Rising from his bed, he stretched his limbs, feeling the subtle hum of energy coursing through his body. He glanced at the bundle of herbs he had set aside for tomorrow’s use and made a mental note to prepare another set of refining exercises before dawn.

He would keep observing Chung Myung, joining him in training—not because he was obligated to, but because it was the most logical choice.

After all, in a world of Murim, strength was everything.

And Chung Hwa had no intention of falling behind.

—

The cold, crisp air of Mount Hua wrapped around Chung Myung as he stood outside the White Plum Blossom Dormitory House. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale, eerie glow over the mountainside. The faint sounds of nocturnal creatures echoed through the trees, but aside from that, all was silent.

It was 3 AM, and Chung Myung had already shaken off his sleep. Resting was for the weak, as far as he was concerned. He had barely been here for two days, and the sight of Mount Hua in its current state irritated him to no end. The aura of stagnation, the dust on every corner of the sect, the disciples’ lackluster spirits — it was all unbearable.

“Getting beaten up will show them all what true dedication looks like,” he muttered under his breath, grinning to himself.

With a swift movement, he grabbed his sword from where it hung by his side and set off toward the forest. The path was steep, winding, and treacherous, but it didn’t bother him. He had climbed far more dangerous paths in the past — after all, this wasn’t his first life. He was no ordinary child, He was The Plum Blossom Sword Saint, after all.

The cold wind brushed his face, and the more he walked, the more excited he became. Today, he would show the disciples how to train. To him, it was simple — push yourself to the brink of exhaustion and then push more. There was no other way to achieve greatness.

But, as he neared a clearing in the forest, his thoughts suddenly shifted. He stopped. The rustling of leaves broke his concentration.

Someone else was here.

He crouched down low, his eyes narrowing, scanning the clearing. There, bathed in the dim moonlight, was a figure. Long red hair fell over their shoulders, and their movements were graceful, calculated. It was someone practicing — and by the looks of it, they were very much in tune with their body.

Chung Myung’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. He stepped forward, barely making a sound. He hadn’t planned on anyone else being out here this early, especially not at this hour, but seeing another disciple train at this time was an opportunity. An opportunity to size up the competition and test their resolve.

He stepped into the clearing, eyes fixed on the person in the center. As his footsteps disturbed the silence, the figure immediately halted their movements.

“You’re here too?” Chung Myung called out, his voice a mixture of surprise and amusement.

The figure turned around slowly. It was Chung Hwa, his expression as calm and composed as ever, though there was a faint glint of recognition in his eyes. For a brief moment, his gaze met Chung Myung’s, and a slight nod of acknowledgment followed.

Chung Myung grinned. “I didn’t expect to see you out here. What’s your excuse?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Chung Hwa replied in his usual soft, measured tone, not at all thrown off by the unexpected encounter.

“Training,” Chung Myung said, as if that answered everything. “What else would I be doing?” He flashed a smile. “And you?”

“Training,” Chung Hwa replied with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “Same as you, I suppose.”

Chung Myung smirked. “You really do like to train, huh? I like that. People like you are rare. Most people would rather sleep than push themselves.”

Chung Hwa tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing with an almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you think you’re different?”

“Different?” Chung Myung laughed lightly. “I’m nothing like the others. I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do.” He moved closer to Chung Hwa, his eyes scanning him carefully. “Besides, I’m here to show the others how it’s done. They’re all slacking off. I’ve gotta kick them into shape. If it’s anyone’s job, it’s mine.”

Chung Hwa’s expression remained unchanged. “I see.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the ground, then back to Chung Myung. “Then… why are you here alone?”

Chung Myung smirked, amused by the question. “Why? You think I need someone else? This training requires no help. Just my own effort.”

Chung Hwa took a step closer to him, his posture relaxed but deliberate. “So you don’t mind that I’m here?”

Chung Myung’s grin widened. “You’re not a problem. In fact…” He hesitated, looking Chung Hwa up and down. “…I could use someone to help me. You’ve got some decent skills. I could see that when you moved earlier. But I’m not sure you’re up to my level yet.”

Chung Hwa’s gaze sharpened slightly, and he said nothing for a moment, as if considering Chung Myung’s words. Then, in a calm but firm tone, he replied, “You’re confident, aren’t you?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Chung Myung said, his voice growing colder, his eyes gleaming with a mix of intelligence and cunning. “It’s not about being confident. It’s about being right. I know what I’m doing. Training is simple. Push yourself, and keep pushing. You’ll see the results.”

Chung Hwa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a few steps back, as if measuring the distance between them. He glanced up at the sky, then back at Chung Myung, and finally spoke. “You really think it’s that easy? That, all it takes is pushing yourself to the limit? You may be right in some ways… but you’ve overlooked something.”

Chung Myung raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

Chung Hwa’s expression remained calm, but there was a slight edge to his words. “You can push yourself, yes. But without the right foundation, you’ll only break yourself. There’s no point in overexerting yourself without first understanding the basics. Or are you planning on learning everything the hard way?”

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes, impressed but not willing to show it. “So you think you’re the expert?”

“Not an expert. But I know enough,” Chung Hwa replied smoothly, his tone full of quiet assurance. “If you want to train, really train, then you’ll need more than just effort. You’ll need strategy. And patience.”

Chung Myung laughed again, but this time, it wasn’t a lighthearted chuckle. It was a low, almost dangerous sound. “Strategy, patience…” He let the words linger in the air. “I’ve heard that before. But there’s one thing I know for sure. You don’t get results by waiting around.”

“True,” Chung Hwa agreed, his voice calm. “But you also don’t get results by rushing headfirst into everything.”

Chung Myung studied him for a moment. He had been on the receiving end of advice like this before, but something about this kid — this kid who was only 14 — intrigued him. The way he spoke, his poise, the calm confidence that radiated from him even in the face of someone like Chung Myung… there was something about him that wasn’t like the others.

“You’re not like the others,” Chung Myung said after a long pause, his grin widening again. “I’ll give you that. I’m gonna keep an eye on you, Sahyung. You might just be useful after all.”

Chung Hwa’s lips curled up slightly in a knowing smile, his dark eyes glinting. “I’m sure you will.”

For a moment, there was silence between them, the sounds of the forest the only noise filling the space. The moonlight painted the clearing in shades of silver and blue as the two of them stood there, locked in an unspoken understanding.

Chung Myung broke the silence first. “Alright, enough talking. Let’s train.”

Chung Hwa nodded once.

And so, the two madmen of Mount Hua took their stance and the next moment they clashed with each other,

Chapter Text

The dim light of the early dawn barely filtered through the windows of Mount Hua’s kitchen, casting long shadows over the wooden counters. The air was thick with the rich scent of lotus paste, red bean, and something faintly floral—osmanthus, perhaps. It was a scent that pulled one in, stirring an unconscious desire for something sweet.

It was this very scent that led Chung Myung, the self-proclaimed most disciplined disciple of Mount Hua, straight to the kitchen door. Of course, he wasn’t sneaking around for food. Absolutely not. He was simply investigating. Yes, investigating. If Mount Hua was suddenly filled with such an enticing aroma, shouldn’t the sect’s greatest genius ensure no outside threats had infiltrated their sacred grounds?

That was the only reason he found himself peering into the kitchen at four in the morning.

Inside, a single candle flickered, casting a golden hue over the scene. Chung Myung blinked. Then, he blinked again.

Chung Hwa stood at the counter, his sleeves loosely tied back, long red hair draped over one shoulder, his black eyes narrowed in concentration as he carefully folded a delicate piece of dough around a filling. The table before him was covered with an array of mooncakes—some round, some shaped like flowers, others like animals. They weren’t just food; they were art.

Chung Myung, who had survived off Mount Hua’s spartan meals and whatever scraps he could steal in his this life, stared in sheer disbelief.

“What the hell is this?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Chung Hwa didn’t even flinch. He simply finished shaping the mooncake in his hands, placed it gently on a wooden tray, and then turned his gaze toward the doorway.

“You’re up early,” he said, voice calm as ever.

Chung Myung crossed his arms, stepping into the kitchen as if he had every right to be there. “Forget that—what is this?” He gestured toward the mooncakes. “Are you… cooking?”

“Baking,” Chung Hwa corrected smoothly, turning back to his work. He picked up a wooden mold and pressed a small ball of dough into it before carefully tapping the sides to release a perfectly shaped mooncake.

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes. “Since when does a Mount Hua disciple waste time baking?”

Chung Hwa hummed, setting another mooncake onto the tray. “Since I enjoy it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Chung Hwa glanced at him briefly before picking up another piece of dough. “I eat them while working.”

“…Working?”

“Not everything in life is martial arts, Chung Myung.”

Chung Myung scoffed, leaning against the counter. “That’s rich, coming from a Mount Hua disciple.”

Chung Hwa merely shrugged. “If you say so.”

Chung Myung glanced back at the mooncakes, resisting the urge to reach out and grab one. “You made all these?”

“Who else?”

“…Why?”

Chung Hwa sighed, as if explaining something simple to a child. “Because I like them.”

Chung Myung looked between the mooncakes and the other boy. “And you’re saying this isn’t a waste of time?”

“Do you think cultivation and martial arts are the only things worth doing?” Chung Hwa asked, voice even, but with a glint of something sharp in his black eyes.

Chung Myung frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I think it is.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue. “Fine, fine. But you actually know how to make these?” He leaned in, inspecting a particularly intricate mooncake shaped like a plum blossom.

“Of course.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Who taught you?”

Chung Hwa paused for a fraction of a second before answering, “Someone I used to know.”

Chung Myung wasn’t convinced, but he let it go. Instead, he grabbed the closest mooncake and took a bite before Chung Hwa could protest.

The taste hit him instantly—soft, sweet, with a hint of salt balancing the richness of the filling. It melted in his mouth, unlike anything he’d ever eaten at Mount Hua before.

“…What the hell.”

“Hmm?”

“This is good.”

“I know.”

Chung Myung shot him a look. “Are you sure you’re not some secret young master from a prestigious cooking sect?”

Chung Hwa smirked slightly. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“Tch.” Chung Myung took another bite. “You better make more.”

“I wasn’t planning to share.”

“Well, you are now.”

Chung Hwa shook his head but said nothing. He simply continued shaping and pressing the dough, unbothered.

Chung Myung, still chewing, eyed the mooncakes before glancing at the other disciple. He wasn’t sure what to make of Chung Hwa. The kid was strange. Unbothered by most things, yet oddly meticulous in ways that didn’t seem to fit Mount Hua. And yet, there was something about him that reminded Chung Myung of an old master quietly watching the world go by.

It was weird. But if it meant more mooncakes, he wasn’t going to complain.

With a final, satisfied bite, he swallowed and grinned. “Alright, I’ll be back tomorrow to make sure you don’t ‘accidentally’ eat them all yourself.”

Chung Hwa chuckled. “If you say so.”

And just like that, a new routine was quietly established in Mount Hua’s kitchen at dawn.

Chapter Text

The moonlight bathed the clearing in pale silver as the two boys faced one another. The only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves and the faint creak of wood as they each tightened their grip on their wooden swords.

Chung Myung grinned, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Don’t hold back now, Sahyung."

Chung Hwa didn’t respond with words. His stance shifted slightly, his sword held low, body angled. Calm. Balanced. Unshaken.

Chung Myung lunged first, as expected—fast and aggressive. His wooden sword swung down in a sharp arc meant to test his opponent’s reaction time.

But Chung Hwa was already moving.

A simple step to the side. A flick of the wrist.

Crack!

Their swords met with a satisfying clack of wood against wood, but the force behind Chung Hwa’s deflection redirected Chung Myung’s attack harmlessly to the side. It was clean—too clean.

Chung Myung's eyes narrowed. "Not bad."

He twisted, dropping low and swinging from below, but once again—tap. Chung Hwa blocked it with such minimal movement, it looked lazy. But every motion was precise, calculated.

Chung Myung backed off with a laugh. “You’re not fighting fair. You’re reading me.”

Chung Hwa finally spoke, his voice as serene as the mountain night. “You’re easy to read.”

A beat of silence passed—and then Chung Myung charged again, this time with a flurry of fast strikes. His movements were wild but had an undercurrent of experience, hints of an older fighter’s instincts leaking through his young body.

But still—Chung Hwa didn’t budge.

Step.

Block.

Deflect.

Sidestep.

Strike.

Every time Chung Myung’s sword came close, it was met with an effortless counter. Not heavy, not forceful—just enough to throw him off-balance.

And then came Chung Hwa’s counterattack.

With one smooth motion, he pivoted on his back foot and stepped inside Chung Myung’s guard. His wooden sword shot forward, tapping Chung Myung’s shoulder with an audible thwack before the boy could react.

"Point," Chung Hwa said softly.

Chung Myung blinked. “You’re fast.”

Chung Hwa tilted his head slightly, like he was appraising a particularly noisy bird. “You’re not slow. Just reckless.”

Chung Myung laughed again, unbothered. “That’s rich, coming from someone who trains all morning like a ghost.”

But despite his jokes, there was something gleaming in his eyes now—a mix of curiosity and growing respect.

“Again,” he said.

They clashed once more—wooden swords dancing under the moonlight.

But it became clearer with each round.

Chung Hwa was on another level.

His footwork was flawless, his timing impeccable. Even when Chung Myung managed to get a swing close, Chung Hwa would twist his body just enough to avoid the full impact, returning the favor with a tap to the ribs, shoulder, leg, or neck.

Five points.

Six.

Seven.

By the eighth clean strike, Chung Myung stopped, breathing heavily, sweat clinging to his brow.

“You're way too good for someone your age,” he muttered, looking at Chung Hwa with wide eyes. “No. You're way too good for someone who's only been here two years.”

Chung Hwa’s wooden sword rested against his shoulder, his breathing barely disturbed. “I didn’t waste those years.”

Chung Myung let out a breath, then grinned. “I’ll beat you next time.”

Chung Hwa smirked ever so slightly. “Good. Keep trying.”

---

Chung Myung trudged back toward the dormitory, his wooden sword slung over one shoulder and a deep scowl etched onto his face. His steps were light, but there was a very noticeable twitch in the corner of his eye. He was quiet—unnaturally so.

Because that damn Sahyung had completely outclassed him.

He muttered under his breath, glaring at the moonlit path like it had personally offended him. “What kind of fourteen-year-old moves like that, huh? His body's supposed to be stiff and awkward, not flowing like water! What’s he been eating? Dragon meat?”

The memory of the spar played back in his mind, whether he liked it or not. Every step Chung Hwa made, every smooth deflection, every annoying tap to his ribs—it all burned like fire in his pride.

“Urgh, I haven’t even finished shaking off the dust in this body yet!” he groaned, rolling his shoulder as if the soreness there was the only reason he lost. “Two days! I’ve only been here two days!”

It wasn’t fair.

In his past life, people trembled at the mere mention of the Plum Blossom Sword Saint. The mere idea that someone had made him look like a beginner would’ve had martial artists weeping blood. And now? He was getting toyed with by a kid who looked like he should be selling herbs in the market.

“I knew he was weird,” Chung Myung hissed. “That calm, old-man look in his eyes—what kind of fourteen-year-old talks like that, huh? I bet he’s hiding something.”

He kicked a pebble down the path with a sharp thwack and grumbled louder. “And that sword form—what was that? Not even pure Mount Hua style. It was lighter, faster... refined. No way a kid figures that out alone.”

He stopped walking, frowning hard.

“...No,” he muttered. “He’s not just talented. He’s trained. Like, really trained. For years. Probably with the access to medicine, elixirs, and secret scrolls, he got stronger, or maybe he’s one of those weirdos who trains while sleeping…”

He paused, realizing something—and his scowl deepened.

“…Is this what it feels like to fight me?”

The silence answered him, and he shivered. “No. No, I was cooler.”

Still, his lips twitched into a reluctant grin. The soreness in his pride still throbbed, but beneath it, the fire was reigniting.

“Heh. Alright, alright. You got me this time, Sahyung. But that was the first spar.”

He jabbed his thumb at his chest.

“Next time, I’ll be ready. I’ll train this body until it moves like my old one. I’ll swing this sword ‘til the calluses crack open. Then we’ll see who’s tapping who.”

He pushed the door to the dorm open and slipped inside.

“…But still,” he muttered as he lay back on his mat, staring at the ceiling, “where the hell did Mount Hua dig him up from?”

The wind whispered through the window.

Chapter Text

Several days had passed since their first spar.

The sun had yet to rise over Mount Hua, but the clearing near the forest had already been scarred by the daily battles between two lunatics who refused to sleep. Every morning, without fail, Chung Hwa and Chung Myung met before dawn—wooden swords clashing, footwork thudding, grunts and sharp exhales echoing through the cold mountain air.

And every morning, without fail, Chung Myung lost.

Not badly. Not humiliatingly. But definitely lost.

Not that he’d ever say it out loud.

“Gah! That’s enough for today!” Chung Myung barked, flipping his wooden sword over his shoulder with a scowl. “If I keep going, you’ll start copying my footwork next.”

Chung Hwa exhaled calmly, not even winded. “Mm. You’re improving.”

“Of course I am,” Chung Myung snapped, puffing out his chest. “What do you take me for, some third-rate martial artist? I’m a genius!”

“You’ve said that every morning.”

“Because it’s true every morning!”

Chung Hwa gave a faint, knowing smile and began walking toward the storage path, untying his wrist wraps. Chung Myung narrowed his eyes, watching him with suspicion.

“Hey,” he called out, squinting. “You’re not heading toward the dorms. Where are you going?”

Chung Hwa didn’t stop walking as he replied, “Weinan.”

“…Huh?” Chung Myung blinked. “Now?”

Chung Hwa nodded, rounding the bend where the path dipped toward a hidden cart tucked just behind the storage shed. A large, well-packed wooden cart waited there, stacked with bundles wrapped in cloth, carefully sealed jars, wooden boxes, and even a few straw-wrapped crates of what smelled like dried herbs and medicine.

Chung Myung’s jaw slackened.

“…You’re hauling that?” he asked, eyes widening. “You brought a cart down here?!”

“It’s more efficient than carrying things by hand,” Chung Hwa said, tightening the straps over his shoulder and wrapping his long sleeves. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Chung Myung stomped closer, still staring at the mountain of goods. “You think horses’ll even move that thing?”

“No horses.”

“…What?”

Chung Hwa casually took hold of the wooden poles, adjusted his stance, and—without so much as a grunt—lifted the entire cart off the ground. Then, with the ease of someone going for a morning jog, he took his first step.

Chung Myung stared.

Then, slowly, his mouth twisted into a mix of disbelief and reluctant admiration.

“…He’s running.”

Chung Hwa didn’t respond. He was already jogging down the slope with the loaded cart in tow, his red hair catching the wind behind him. His figure moved with effortless grace, like a trained beast of burden that had long since mastered the path.

Chung Myung watched him disappear down the trail, stunned into silence.

“…He’s really running with it.”

He blinked, muttered under his breath, and scratched the back of his head. “Jo Gul Sahyung did say he goes to Weinan a few times a month… but I thought he hitched a ride, not became the ride!”

Then, as if reality finally caught up with him, Chung Myung grinned wide.

“Hah… That’s right.”

He leaned back, folding his arms as the mountain wind swept past.

“I was faster than horses too.”

His grin twisted into something proud and competitive.

“…Tch. If I wasn’t still shaking the rust off, I’d be hauling carts with my feet off the ground.”

He huffed, turned away, and stalked back up toward the training grounds.

But even as he barked at the third-grade disciples to line up, he kept glancing toward the path down the mountain.

“…Just you wait, Sahyung. I’ll catch up. And next time, I’ll wash your face with dirt.”

—

“This is crazy.”

A fire was raging within his body.

Contrasting wildly against his facial expression, which exuded a chill that seemed to freeze your soul.

He risked his life, sacrificed himself to kill that demon, and those below him destroyed Mount Hua?

What the hell are these results? Is there no retribution in this world!?

His mind began to ache as his thoughts continued unrestrained.

“Sigh…”

Now, he couldn’t even get angry at the pathetic state of the elders in the sect. After all, it was clear why this happened.

“I don’t get it; what kind of loyalty did those people have!”

If their Heavenly Demon was killed, they should have just lived cowering in seclusion. Instead, they rushed straight for revenge.

If the journey to Mount Hua hadn’t been so arduous, it might have been destroyed all the way to the roots.

“Should I call us fortunate, or were we unlucky?”

Only a few things were damaged.

“Sigh.”

Still, sitting alone on the rooftop and watching the sun fall as the night approached helped to soothe his mind.

‘That’s just how the world is.’

The real reason Chung Myung was distraught wasn’t because of what occurred to Mount Hua. He was angry because his successors had to pay the price for his actions.

If Chung Myung had lived after killing the Heavenly Demon, he could have stopped it. But he died, and the young disciples, who knew nothing, had to face the hellish aftermath. As a result, Mount Hua ended up like this.

“Tch. What can I do?”

No one could criticize Chung Myung.

It could be said that a disaster befell the sect because he killed the Heavenly Demon, but if he didn’t kill him, then the entire sect would have ceased to exist.

Chung Myung didn’t have a choice. Even if asked to relive that moment, Chung Myung would still not hesitate to sever the Heavenly Demon’s head.

But…

“It feels unpleasant.”

Chung Myung took a deep breath.

“Well, the past is the past. If it’s broken, then we can just rebuild it!”

Whether or not he’s responsible, doesn’t his goal remain the same? He must revive Mount Hua and regain the sect’s former glory.

“Worrying won’t change anything. What matters is getting results!”

It will be enough if he can make Mount Hua stronger than before. It might be impossible for others, but not for Chung Myung.

It will be a little difficult, though.

No, there will be a lot of difficulties.

It may be even more challenging than cutting off the head of the Heavenly Demon.

‘But I’m in a hurry.’

Impatience is poison to a task. There’s a difference between moving quickly and trying to rush. Contemplate the job thoroughly and advance without rushing.

“Alright, let’s take it easy.”

First, let’s figure out everything that’s been lost. The best way would be to simply ask someone.

“Where is the sect leader! Come on out!”

Right. Sect leader is the right—

…Who said that?

Chung Myung’s eyes went wide as he turned to see where the voice had come from.

‘The main gate?’

There was a loud noise coming from the main gate.

‘At this hour?’

The sun was setting. Why would visitors come at this time?

“Sect leader, get out here!”

Ah, right, the Sect leader…

“Sect Leader?”

Chung Myung touched his ears with a blank expression.

“What did I just hear?”

Demanding the sect leader?

‘What crazy bastard is saying that!’

Such insolence! How dare they assault the gates of Mount Hua and demand the Sect leader! In the past, such actions would be inconceivable without enormous repercussions.

Before he’d even finished speaking, a teeth-shattering fist would have met the man’s face.

These people outside didn’t seem to be wary of Mount Hua’s power at all!

Thud! Thud

A violent banging on the gate. At the same time, the gate, which was barely in shape, began to rattle and fracture.

‘No, no, no!’

Whoosh!

The front gate finally gave in and made a strange sound as it moved. The gate collapsed to the ground and shattered as dust and debris scattered the area.

Chung Myung stared blankly at the scene, clearly dazed.

‘They broke the gate?’

The gate of Mount Hua?

What was happening?

“Let’s go in!”

Dozens of people smashed the gate and sprinted inside. All of whom ran towards the residence of the Sect Leader. It didn’t seem like it was their first time doing it.

The other sect elders stormed out from their residences at the noise.

“W–wait!”

“You can’t do this!”

But the opponents were relentless.

“Get out of my way right now! Won’t you move?”

“Tell him to come out! Sect leader!”

“Huh! Did you just touch my body?”

Chung Myung’s eyes rolled back in shock.

‘What was up with this situation?’

The intruders broke in as if they owned the place.

But the elders seemed to be struggling to block them; whenever one stepped forward, the elders would step back as if they’d been assaulted.

It wasn’t like they had strength.

No! Chung Myung could feel that the elders were stronger.

“Th—”

Before Chung Myung could understand the situation, the people pushed in and arrived in front of the residence.

“Sect leader! Come out right now!”

“Don’t even think of running away!”

“I know you are in there! I am not going to let you have your way today! Come out!”

Chung Myung was feeling dizzy.

‘What am I seeing?’

Where is this place?

No matter how horrible the downfall was, Mount Hua wasn’t a place where such things could happen.

Chung Myung could feel trouble building up.

—

The sky blazed gold and crimson as the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a warm glow over the stone streets of Weinan.

The marketplace, though beginning to wind down for the day, still buzzed with late-day activity. Merchants called out their final bargains, the scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet bean buns wafted in the air, and townsfolk meandered through the stalls with baskets on their hips.

And down the main road, just as the first stars pricked the sky—

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

A heavy wooden cart rolled through the city gate, wheels crunching against the stone. It wasn’t pulled by oxen or horses. Instead, leading the cart with silent, steady steps, was a boy.

A boy with long, deep red hair tied high behind his head, robes fluttering in the wind like the sleeves of a passing immortal. His expression was calm, unfazed by the distance he’d clearly run. The cart behind him, fully packed with crates and jars, moved smoothly as though it weighed nothing.

Heads turned. Conversations paused.

“Isn’t that…?”

“The Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua?”

“I thought he was just a myth!”

“No, that’s him—the Taoist from Mount Hua Sect!”

“They call him the Golden Lotus too, right? Or was it the Divine Hand?”

“Didn’t the Governor call him the Phoenix of Mount Hua last time he healed the Mayor’s daughter?”

“He’s the one who carries a whole cart on foot! Look, it’s true!”

Whispers trailed him as he walked, but Chung Hwa neither sped up nor acknowledged the murmurs. He simply adjusted the cloth covering a crate of herbs and continued until he reached the far corner of the square—a slightly secluded stall set beside a tall cypress tree and stone well.

There, waiting with arms folded and a smirk tugging at his lips, stood a man in his late 40s. He wore layered silk robes, a finely tailored coat, and had the kind of ease in his stance that came from both wealth and battlefield experience.

Yeo Dong-Jun.

“Well,” Dong-Jun said with a grin. “When they said a dragon would descend from Mount Hua today, I didn’t think they meant literally.”

Chung Hwa came to a halt and lowered the cart gently. “You exaggerate.”

“I sell things for a living. Exaggeration is in my blood.” Dong-Jun’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “But seriously, you pulled this thing the entire way again?”

“It’s faster than renting a cart.”

“Faster, yes. Normal, no.” Dong-Jun stepped forward and gave one of the crates a gentle tap. “Let me guess. High-grade mountain herbs, three new elixirs, and—” he sniffed lightly, “—the new batch of lotus mooncakes?”

Chung Hwa gave a quiet nod, already untying the knots on the cart.

Dong-Jun laughed. “You know, any sane person would’ve taken apprentices by now. Instead, you do the labor and the brewing and the baking.”

“Labor clears the mind.”

“Sure. That, or you just like working harder than necessary.”

Chung Hwa paused to glance up at him. “You said the lotus elixirs sell better when I’m the one who delivers them.”

Dong-Jun raised both hands, chuckling. “Guilty. Nothing stirs up demand like the ‘Jade Lotus Trader’ showing up personally. Last time, some noble’s wife tried to commission a portrait of you.”

“I declined.”

“You always do.”

As they talked, curious townsfolk began to circle in—keeping their distance, but clearly hoping for a glimpse of the famed Taoist. A few children giggled as they whispered, “It’s the Merchant Saint!” while a few older herbalists bowed politely from afar.

Dong-Jun leaned slightly toward Chung Hwa and whispered, “They say you’re the Divine Hand. That your touch can heal bones and make withered plants bloom again.”

“Rumors.”

“Maybe. But they pay very well for those rumors.”

Chung Hwa finished unloading a box of sealed glass jars and finally straightened up, dusting his sleeves off. The light from the sunset glinted against the clasp on his robe, which had a delicate lotus design etched in jade.

“I’ll be staying in the usual place,” he said simply.

Dong-Jun nodded. “Good. I’ll handle the rest here. And while you’re in Weinan, maybe take a break? You’re fourteen, not forty.”

Chung Hwa’s lips quirked in a rare, quiet smile.

“…Says the man who once ran five inns while treating battlefield wounds.”

“Touché.”

As the evening fell fully over Weinan, lanterns flickered to life around the square. And at its edge stood the boy many called dragon, phoenix, and saint—quiet, composed, and already planning the next batch of medicine.

Chapter Text

“There you are!”

Un Am approached Chung Myung with an urgent look upon his face.

“Sasuk, I greet you.”

Jo Gul and Chung Myung bowed their heads and offered greetings.

“Right.”

Un Am slightly nodded his head and then looked at Chung Myung.

“Chung Myung.”

“Yes, Sasuk.”

“I think you should head to our main mountain.”

“… Huh?”

Our main mountain?

Mount Hua?

‘No, does he think going to Mount Hua is that easy?’

What kind of errand is he asking about? Even birds could die ascending Mount Hua!

Where did their consciences go!

“Mount Hua?”

“Yes.”

Chung Myung turned his head to the side with a sullen face. Jo Gul swiftly avoided his gaze.

“No, there are so many vigorous and strong sahyungs, why me…?”

“Aren’t you the youngest?”

“Because I am the youngest, my legs are thin, and my footwork is weak.”

“You also aren’t doing anything here.”

“…”

Ah.

He didn’t like working, so he decided to clean this place instead. Who would have known it would backfire like this.

“Ugh.”

Chung Myung sighed deeply.

Now he was turned into an errand boy. How did the Plum Blossom Sword Saint Chung Myung end up like this?

“So, what’s the errand?”

“You need to deliver a letter to the sect leader.”

“Sorry?”

A letter?

He wanted to ask more but questioning a sasuk and fretting over every detail wasn’t polite. It hurts their pride if someone young, like Chung Myung, questions them.

“Yes. I will go.”

“Good. Normally, it would be fine to just wait until someone is returning and let them deliver it, but the businesses here are quite chaotic and it’s a fairly urgent matter. I hope you understand.”

Shit.

He has such a good personality.

Chung Myung would have torn their snout off if it had been a third-class disciple issuing this request.

Un Am pulled out a letter and gave it to Chung Myung.

“This is the one.”

“Yes.”

Also, Un Am kindly explained what the letter was, in case Chung Myung was curious about it.

“This is a letter from Eunha merchant guild, so treat it with respect.”

“Uh? Eunha?”

Jo Gul quietly explained.

“That’s the merchant association that Elder Hwang is a member of.”

“Eh?”

Chung Myung was shocked.

Un Am continued to explain while ignoring Chung Myung’s shock.

“This letter was sent to the sect leader because of an emergency. I happened to be in Hua-Um, so I was able to intercept it early. Otherwise, it would take another two days for it to be delivered along with the other goods to Mount Hua. So, you will have to take this and deliver it to the sect leader immediately.”

“Yes, I get it.”

“It’s urgent, so don’t delay and leave right away.”

“Yes!”

Jo Gul, who watched Chung Myung take the letter into his hands, unwittingly reached his arm out as Chung Myung dashed away towards the mountain.

“That… that!”

Then, he mumbled with anxious eyes.

“Couldn’t we send anyone else but him with that?”

“Hm? Did you say something?”

“N-Nothing at all. Sasuk.”

Jo Gul quickly said. But his eyes didn’t leave Chung Myung’s back.

‘I’m probably just feeling too sensitive.’

But ominous premonitions were rarely wrong.

“Hmm.”

Chung Myung, who was climbing Mount Hua, took the letter in his hands.

“Hmmmm.”

‘So, this is a letter from Elder Hwang of the great Eunha Merchants, right?’

‘No, since Elder Hwang is battling illness on his deathbed, this must be a letter from his subordinates.’

“Ah… really.”

Chung Myung sighed.

“Morally, it isn’t right for a Taoist to open letters meant for other people and pry into their private matters; but isn’t this letter addressed to Mount Hua where Taoists are plentiful? Whether sect leader or disciple, it should be fine for me to peek inside since we’re all family on Mount Hua. Isn’t that right, Sahyung?”

-What shit are you spewing!

“… however, my sahyung is dead, so it doesn’t matter.”

Chung Myung always touched others’ stuff.

With Mount Hua’s businesses as they are, it seems like they will remain a mess unless Elder Hwang steps in to help make things easier. But with this situation… Was there some kind of emergency in the guild?

Something must have happened to Elder Hwang.

How could he know for sure if he doesn’t peek inside, though?

Chung Myung took a close look at the letter.

An inscription on the surface clearly stated, ‘For the eyes of the Great Mount Hua Sect leader only.’

So, they say no one other than the sect leader should open it.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. To be honest, even if the sect leader was here, he would have told me what it says anyway.”

If other people were around to hear him, they would have pulled their hair out yelling at him; unfortunately, no one was around.

“Let’s see,”

A letter sealed securely with a wax stamp. No matter how carefully it was torn, marks were bound to be seen.

But it wasn’t very difficult for Chung Myung, who had plenty of experience raiding other peoples’ property.

“Well, that’s a good thing.”

Shhh!

A sharp qi rose from Chung Myung’s fingertips and accurately separated the boundaries between paper and wax. Then, as if it had never been waxed from the beginning, only a complete envelope remained.

Chung Myung opened the envelope, took out the letter inside, and began to read it.

“Let’s see….”

Chung Myung crossed his legs and scanned the contents.

Chung Myung’s face distorted. Chung Myung fought back an urge to crush the letter, neatly folded it instead, and pushed it back into the envelope with trembling hands.

He took a deep breath.

“Phew!”

After taking several deep breaths, he calmed his raging mind.

“Isn’t this that damned Demonic Flower?”

Demonic Flower.

Literally a demon’s flower.

Chung Myung clenched his teeth.

“There’s no way ordinary physicians can cure this!”

Because these were the symptoms of that flower.

On the surface, the symptoms are similar to being severely poisoned. Therefore, people would spend their time searching for an antidote.

However, the Demonic Flower is a poison that occurs when a particular technique of the Demonic sect is used.

The reason why Chung Myung couldn’t be calm was simple.

‘Demonic bastards!’

Those bastards, who he thought had been eradicated, were alive and working behind the scenes!

‘No! No! No!’

Chung Myung slapped his cheeks to calm himself.

“The one I killed was their Heavenly Demon. I didn’t kill all the demonic bastards.”

It was natural for the remnants of the Demonic Sect to be alive. Didn’t they say the demonic sect remnants had rushed over to Mount Hua after their Heavenly Demon was killed?

There must have been some who survived the war and grew up. There would have been even more hiding out in the Hundred-Thousand Mountains. It’s no wonder they’re still around.

The problem wasn’t them being alive but them plotting something.

A blazing fire ignited within Chung Myung’s eyes.

“I don’t get it; do they still hold any grudges against Mount Hua?”

Why does everything they do damage Mount Hua?

There were so many people in this world, yet, why did they have to touch Elder Hwang?

“Ah! My head hurts!”

Chung Myung took a deep breath.

‘Nothing else can be done.’

He would have to go and see it for himself.

It wasn’t possible to say with certainty based on what was written. Chung Myung would have to see it with his own eyes.

Furthermore…

“Reward! A huge reward!”

At the end of the letter, what was written shone in Chung Myung’s eyes.

According to Jo Gul, only the best of the best could join the Eunha guild, and Elder Hwang was famous even in the guild. A massive reward from such a place, he couldn’t even imagine how much it would end up being.

“I can’t miss this!”

Chung Myung’s heart skipped a beat.

Nearly a hundred years have passed, so not many would know of the Demonic Flower.

If they hadn’t waged war a hundred years ago, not even Chung Myung would know of it. There was no way they could imagine that these symptoms came from a demonic technique.

Anyone who could recognize these symptoms died in the hands of Heavenly Demon and the other Demonic Sect disciples on the day Chung Myung died.

But the world doesn’t know.

‘Those who survived that fateful day might know.’

If they were alive, they would have been a sect leader. But it didn’t seem like there were any survivors. But if they’d survived, would they have passed the knowledge on? What if one of the others receiving this letter actually has a cure?

“I must have lost it! I can’t even imagine it!”

Chung Myung’s eyes flared in excitement.

Who could try and snatch away one of Chung Myung’s opportunities? …Was he really shamelessly targeting patients? But this was money… no, Chung Myung must solve this dying man’s illness for the sake of morality!

“I’m busy.”

Chung Myung grabbed the letter and placed the seal back on it. Then melted the wax a little to fix it and moved to the top.

“Let’s give this to them first.”

That way, even if Chung Myung resolved the situation, the sect leader would have some understanding of the current situation.

Hyun Jong seemed to have close ties to the guild.

The letter read thusly.

Sect leader. The long winter is over, and spring is coming. By the time this arrives, the spring plum blossoms will be in full bloom, even where the sect leader resides.

The beautiful view of Mount Hua, which I visited with my father, is still etched into my memories. I am full of desire to revisit it some time, but it is a pity that circumstances do not permit me.

Unfortunately, I am ashamed to be writing to you like this in hopes of a request. I am contacting you because my father’s condition keeps worsening with the passage of each day.

As you know, my father has been in bed since last year as his health began failing. Considering his age, it was understandable. But strangely, in recent days, other symptoms started to appear instead of the usual signs of old age.

Father is currently unconscious and unable to move. His body is dyed red, and a black light or something ominous circulates on his forehead while his heart beats erratically.

We, the Eunha Guild, invited various people to check on my father’s condition, but no one made a proper diagnosis.

So, as if grasping at straws, I’m trying to find some clue about this illness by sending these letters out to anyone I know is capable. If you know anything about my father’s symptoms, we would appreciate it if you could contact us back in any way.

I promise to give a massive reward in the name of Eunha Guild to those who provide information that would help improve my father’s health.

Waiting for a reply.

Hwang Jongi, the minor Lord of Eunha Guild.

—

The moon hung high over Weinan, casting a silvery glow over the merchant city. The air was filled with the lingering scent of roasted chestnuts and the faint murmur of the night market. At the far end of the city, within a modest yet elegant courtyard, Chung Hwa sat cross-legged, his fingers skillfully preparing medicinal herbs under the dim lantern light.

Dong-Jun leaned lazily against a wooden pillar, swirling a cup of wine in his hand. "You know, most people come to Weinan to enjoy themselves, not to work themselves to death."

Chung Hwa didn’t look up. "I didn’t come to enjoy myself."

"Clearly." Dong-Jun smirked. "Two years, and you still act like an old man. Should I start calling you ‘Elder Hwa’ instead?"

Chung Hwa ignored the jab, carefully measuring a pinch of powdered herb before sealing it in a packet. "I may not come every month like before."

Dong-Jun’s brow arched. "Oh? And what poor soul is responsible for stealing you away from me?"

"A troublemaker sajae."

There was a beat of silence. Then Dong-Jun let out a loud laugh. "Troublemaker, huh?" He shook his head in amusement. "I take it this means Mount Hua finally has another lunatic to shake things up?"

Chung Hwa hummed in agreement. "Barely arrived, and he's already making a mess."

"Ah, I’d like to see that. The famous Chung Hwa, driven to exhaustion by someone younger. I thought you were the immovable Hidden Dragon?"

Chung Hwa merely continued his work, the quiet crackle of the brazier filling the space between them. It was a peaceful moment, until Dong-Jun’s tone grew more serious.

"Speaking of troublemakers… I returned from Xi’an not long ago."

Chung Hwa finally glanced up, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering lantern light. "Xi’an?"

Dong-Jun exhaled, setting his cup down. "You’ve heard of Master Hwang from Eunha Trading Company, haven’t you?"

"The one in a coma?"

"That’s the one. It’s been a year now. Physicians, Taoists, even a few so-called miracle healers—none of them could do anything. And before you tell me it's not your problem, I know for a fact you’ve treated a couple of people with the same condition before."

“You know, dark reddish skin hue, erratic pulse, loss of consciousness, and the appearance of a black spot between the brows, sounds familiar, doesn't it?”

Chung Hwa’s fingers stilled.

Dong-Jun leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "You know what it is, don’t you?"

Chung Hwa’s silence was answer enough.

Dong-Jun let out a slow breath. "I tried. I really did. I even brought the best alchemists I could find. But it was useless. If it's what I think it is... there’s only a handful of people who might have a chance at treating him." He met Chung Hwa’s gaze. "And one of them is sitting in front of me."

Chung Hwa remained quiet, contemplating. The weight of Dong-Jun’s words settled over the room.

"I won’t force you," Dong-Jun finally said, softer this time. "But if there's even a chance you can help, I’d rather see you try than let another man waste away."

Chung Hwa looked down at the herb in his hand—the crushed petals of a rare flower, one he had used before in his own experiments against the very affliction Dong-Jun spoke of.

After a moment, he set the packet aside. "I’ll think about it."

Dong-Jun nodded, satisfied for now. "That’s all I ask."

Outside, the wind carried the distant chime of bells from the city temple, a quiet reminder that dawn was only a few hours away. But for now, within the quiet courtyard, the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua sat in thought, his mind already weighing the risks of what lay ahead.

—

Dong-Jun leaned back, swirling the tea in his cup with a thoughtful expression. “You’re leaving soon, huh?”

Chung Hwa’s movements were deliberate as he poured hot water into the pot, allowing the leaves to unfurl. He didn’t look up, but his voice carried a hint of weariness. “I made my mind to go to Xi'an”

Dong-Jun’s eyes narrowed slightly as he set the cup down. “You’ll need a variety of herbs, and some special items. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. What else will you require?”

Chung Hwa paused, lifting his head to meet Dong-Jun’s gaze. “A few things. I’ll need a batch of Silver Lotus Extract, Crimson Watermelon Sap, Golden Lotus Pollen, and Demonbane Root. And… Heaven’s Breath. Do you have any?”

Dong-Jun raised an eyebrow, considering. “The Silver Lotus and Golden Lotus are rarities, but I know where to find them. The Crimson Watermelon Sap will take a bit of effort, though. As for Heaven’s Breath, I’ve got some, but it's not something you’ll find easily.”

“Good. I can make the Cleansing Elixir, then,” Chung Hwa said, as he began to measure out the tea leaves, his hands steady despite the growing weight of the task ahead.

“The Tranquilizing Needle too, right?” Dong-Jun pressed.

“Yeah, I'll need some Moonlit Silver as well for that. It's a delicate procedure.”

Dong-Jun nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll have it all prepared. But there's something else."

Chung Hwa tilted his head, setting the teapot aside. “What?”

Dong-Jun’s expression grew more serious. “I’ve been thinking about how you’re going to get into Xi’an. It’s not as simple as just showing up. You’ll need a letter of introduction, something official.”

Chung Hwa frowned. “A letter? I don’t have time for formalities. This is an emergency.”

Dong-Jun’s eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. “I know. But it’ll help you bypass the usual restrictions. The Eunha Guild is a prestigious place. You can’t just walk in there without being noticed.”

Chung Hwa leaned back, his face thoughtful. “You know someone who can help with that?”

Dong-Jun’s smile returned, the casual air of his demeanor making a sharp contrast to the conversation. “I’ve got connections. I’ll write a letter to Hwang Jongi, Master Hwang’s son. He’s the Minor Lord of the Eunha Guild. He’s a man of influence. If he sees your name on a letter from me, getting into Xi’an won’t be a problem, also I bet he heard about your reputation too, that would be a free pass.”

Chung Hwa considered this, a mixture of skepticism and appreciation in his eyes. “Hwang Jongi… I’ve heard of him. He’s not someone easily swayed.”

Dong-Jun’s smile deepened. “True. But I’m sure he’ll find the idea of you lending a hand more than compelling. After all, your skills are not something one would forget easily.”

There was a brief silence as Chung Hwa processed the information. He picked up his tea, swirling it slowly in the cup. “I don’t like playing politics.”

“Neither do I,” Dong-Jun said, his tone wry. “But sometimes, you do what’s necessary.”

Chung Hwa let out a long breath. “Alright. I’ll take the letter. I suppose it’s better than facing hurdles at every turn.”

Dong-Jun stood, moving toward the desk where a pile of parchment lay. He picked up a blank sheet and dipped a brush in ink. As he began to write, the quiet scratching of the brush against paper filled the room.

Chung Hwa’s gaze wandered toward the window, his thoughts turning to the task ahead. The urgency of Master Hwang’s condition weighed heavily on his mind. Despite the complexities of the situation, he couldn’t afford to delay.

Dong-Jun finished the letter and folded it with care, sealing it with wax. “This should do the trick. I’ll send it to him. As for you, take some time to prepare. I’ll have the herbs ready by the time you leave.”

Chung Hwa stood, nodding gratefully. “Thank you.”

Dong-Jun waved it off. “It’s nothing. Just make sure you don’t get yourself killed out there, alright? The world has a way of throwing more trouble your way than you expect.”

Chung Hwa gave a rare, dry smile. “I don’t plan on dying just yet.”

Chapter Text

A Year Ago — A Village in the South of Weinan

The boy was no older than nine. He lay curled on a straw mat, his small frame shivering despite the summer heat. His skin was flushed with a reddish tint, and between his brows bloomed a black mark—like a bruise, dark and ominous. Around him, the villagers hovered in silent dread, eyes flickering to the stranger in robes kneeling beside the child.

Chung Hwa’s brows were furrowed, his sleeves rolled up as he checked the child’s pulse again. Erratic. Too fast. Too shallow. Sweat beaded his own forehead—not from the heat, but from the unease crawling up his spine.

“This isn’t poison,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He had already tried a mild detoxing pill and a cleansing tea. Neither had helped.

“Is it a curse?” one of the villagers asked. “A ghost? An evil spirit?”

Chung Hwa didn’t answer. His fingers lingered near the black spot between the boy’s brows. A mark like that… he had never seen it in any medical records. And the way the skin reddened, the sudden collapse, the racing heartbeat—it all pointed to some kind of internal breakdown.

But what kind?

He stayed in the village for three days. The boy died on the second.

On the third, Chung Hwa buried himself in scrolls, notes, and medicinal texts at an apothecary in the next town over. He pored over poison lists, internal deviation records, martial deviation case studies. None matched. Nothing was fast enough. Nothing had a black mark.

It’s not poison. It’s not internal energy backlash. Then what the hell is it?

Sleep-deprived and frustrated, he traveled from town to town, asking local healers, old apothecaries, martial artists who might know obscure techniques. Most shook their heads. Some recommended obscure treatments or talismans. One even suggested burning a fox tail.

Then, after weeks of travel and endless failure, someone pointed him to an old man who lived alone near a forgotten mountain path. A man who used to treat strange ailments for sectless wanderers and injured rogues.

---

A Dusty Shack Near the Mountain Trail

The old man looked like he had survived past his own expiration. Wispy white hair, hands gnarled like twisted tree roots, and a spine bent almost in half. But his eyes—clouded though they were—sharpened as Chung Hwa described the symptoms.

“Red skin... erratic pulse... black mark... died in a day?”

Chung Hwa nodded, exhausted. “You know it?”

The old man’s mouth curled, not quite into a smile. “I know it. I hoped I’d never hear of it again.”

“What is it?”

He turned and rummaged through an ancient box, pulling out a brittle scroll wrapped in faded cloth. “Mahwa. The Devil’s Flower or Demonic Flower. A technique used by the Demonic Sect. They used to infect enemies with it as a punishment or warning.”

Chung Hwa froze. “Wait. It’s not a poison?”

The old man shook his head. “Not in the usual sense. It’s not something you swallow or inhale. It’s a result of a martial art. A dark one. They use it to corrupt the victim’s meridians from the outside. Once it takes root, it spreads like wildfire.”

“Then... can it be treated?”

“Barely. Most who saw it never lived long enough to try. But there were whispers—old recipes, rare herbs, special needles. I only saw one man survive it in my youth, but that was a long time ago.”

Chung Hwa felt a chill run down his spine.

The old man reached for a faded notebook and tore out a brittle page. “This is what I know. It’s not complete. But if you’re smart and desperate, maybe you can figure out the rest.”

Chung Hwa took the page with reverence, heart pounding. “Thank you.”

As he turned to leave, the old man called after him. “Boy. If you’re serious about this... remember. You can’t treat Mahwa with medicine alone. You’ll need spiritual strength. And courage. A lot of it.”

Chung Hwa bowed low. “I understand.”

—

The page from the old man trembled slightly in Chung Hwa’s hand as he boarded the wagon back to Weinan. He hadn’t eaten in almost a day, but hunger was nothing next to the urgency gnawing at his mind.

Mahwa. Devil’s Flower. A martial technique disguised as a disease.

He needed more than medicine. More than theory.

---

Weeks Later — In Dong-Jun’s Residence, Weinan

The table was buried under scrolls, crushed herbs, powdered minerals, and notes scribbled in messy ink. From dawn until midnight, Chung Hwa barely left the study. He experimented with decoctions of Soul-Calming Grass, Black Iron Tea leaves, and even tried boiling Spirit Sand with elixirs to see how they reacted to energy surges.

He developed over a dozen failed elixirs. One boiled over and melted through part of the table. Another turned to smoke the moment internal energy was circulated near it.

Still, he kept going.

Silver Lotus, Demonbane Root, Crimson Watermelon Sap...

Too gentle for aggressive cases. Only useful if caught early.

Moonbane Powder, Bone Ash of Spirit Beasts, Violet Jade Petals...

Too volatile. One wrong combination nearly stopped a test subject’s heart.

---

Three Months Later — Taoist Healing Monastery, Northern Valley

He humbled himself to elderly Qi masters, disguised as a wandering disciple to gain entry to an old Taoist monastery. There, he learned how to balance chaotic meridians using Qi-threading — a gentle, pulsing touch of internal energy to guide a patient’s flow.

He practiced daily on himself, bruising his own wrists and chest until he could circulate energy without creating backlash.

One monk finally taught him the “Hundred Petal Flow” technique — a healing method where the user pours controlled internal energy into the patient's Dantian to suppress rampant energy spikes.

"You’ll need a Qi as steady as stone," the old monk warned. "Or you’ll kill them instead."

Chung Hwa practiced until his fingers bled.

---

He paid a high price for rare ingredients:

Heaven's Thread Mushrooms that grew only in areas struck by lightning.

Snowglass Ivy to cool energy flare-ups.

Ashen Reed from forgotten lakes to drain poisoned meridians.

Jade Butterfly Resin, rumored to calm the mind of those near death.

He bribed, traded, and once even bartered with a group of rogue martial artists in exchange for old martial notes on internal energy collapse.

One particularly stubborn old man laughed at him.
"You think this is something you can cure? Devil’s Flower is a death sentence, brat."
Chung Hwa looked him in the eye and said:
“Then I’ll become the one person who can rewrite that sentence.”

---

It was a girl this time. Twelve years old. Red skin, black mark, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Chung Hwa administered the Tranquilizing Needle to the pressure points above her heart and wrists, adjusted her breath flow with Qi-threading, and gave her the Cleansing Elixir of Demonic Roots, infused with additional Jade Butterfly Resin and softened Spirit Balm.

He kept vigil all night.

At dawn, her pulse evened out.

Her mark faded.

And she breathed.

---

Now — Present Day

He still remembers that day when the girl opened her eyes and called him “Big Brother.” It was the day he knew:
He would never let another die of Mahwa if he could help it.

And now, a year later, with the disease possibly reappearing—he was ready.

He prepared everything he needed and was ready to go to Xi'an.

Chapter Text

“Huak! Huak! Huak! I need to take a breather!”

Chung Myung sat down on the tree trunk next to him to catch his breath. He ran a great distance straight from Mount Hua without resting and was out of breath. It seemed like he would die.

“Oh! How far have I fallen from my prime!?”

He could jump from one mountain to another in one step. He could even jump from one side of a river to another in two jumps!

If it had been him in the past, it would have taken less than two hours to reach Xi’an city from Mount Hua. It would have been like taking a leisurely walk.

However, Chung Myung couldn’t do it at his current level, so he had to run like a crazy dog, sweating until his body hurt.

“Oh my… If I could have just one glass of cold water, life would be worth living.”

Each time this happened, he would think of the past. Taking a deep breath, Chung Myung raised his head and looked at Xi’an.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

Although Hua-Um developed quite a bit, it cannot be compared to Xian city.

Xi'an was the largest city near Mount Hua. As a result, whenever there was a need to visit a big city, the first place anyone would consider was Xi'an.

Chung Myung, feeling alive and rested, stood up while reminiscing.

“Quite a lot used to happen here.”

Ordinarily, the disciples of Mount Hua wouldn’t come here.

The reason was simple. The closest faction to this city was actually the Southern Edge sect. (Zhongnan Sect)

Southern Edge Mountain, home of the Southern Edge sect, was only a few kilometers away from here. So, their disciples would often come here when they were bored.

What would happen if the disciples of both Mount Hua and Southern Edge met?

‘One of the two will be destroyed.’

Southern Edge Sect and Mount Hua weren’t on good terms.

No, it’s not enough to say they simply weren’t on good terms. They just couldn’t bear being close to each other; they were closer to being enemies.

Why do we have such a bad relationship?

It has to be asked the other way around… what reason do we have to get along?

Like neighboring nations don’t have good relations, the big sects never liked getting along with their neighbors. First, there are always border disputes and interests to be contested. Not to mention a constant competition to recruit local disciples with talent.

Above all, when asked who’s mightier, swords are drawn and wielded before the question finishes escaping their lips. It’s a matter of pride.

Moreover, both Mount Hua and Southern Edge were from the same province, and they even had the same kind of teaching, which focused on swordplay.

‘Haha. The ancestors must have had similar personalities. Maybe they thought that if they settled their clans near one another their descendants would get along.’

Well, that may be what they thought, but the successors came to regard each other as enemies.

As a result, Mount Hua had no choice but to reluctantly get along with the Southern Edge Sect.

At least, until Chung Myung appeared.

As everyone knows, Chung Myung has quite a temper and is more than a little rebellious. The more his Sahyung tried to stop him, the more he wanted to come to Xi’an.

Were there disputes?

Of course.

‘I hit them a lot.’

Chung Myung wasn’t such a boor that he would visit the city just to pick fights. At that time, he only focused on eating one more piece of meat and drinking one more glass of alcohol.

He couldn’t enjoy himself and indulge in drinking and dancing within Mount Hua because of his ever-present Sahyung’s watchful eyes keeping him tied down. But, he could avoid his Sahyung’s nagging by hiding in the city.

However, those Southern Edge fools seemed to enjoy fighting rather than drinking and dancing. After being beaten by Chung Myung once or twice, whenever they found out that Chung Myung was in town, they would come rushing after him.

Chung Myung acknowledged the Southern Edge sect’s tenacity as well. Regardless of how many times they were beaten to a pulp, they would always come back, chasing after Chung Myung in greater and greater numbers whenever he showed his face.

Even when Mount Hua was in the midst of collapse, weren’t they still trying to drag Mount Hua down tenaciously?

“So…”

Chung Myung glanced at his clothes. He couldn’t take off his uniform because he was in a hurry. The plum blossom symbol embroidered on the chest stood out brilliantly.

Should he get a change of clothes?

Chung Myung was a little worried.

“Eh, whatever.”

He doubted that he would run into those damn bastards in this wide city. It isn’t like they would be searching for him as they did in the past.

“It’s not like anything will happen.”

Once he got to the Eunha Guild, he wouldn’t have to worry about this sort of thing.

“And then I can get my money!”

With a sinister smile, Chung Myung crossed into Xian.

Completely unaware of the storm he was about to create.

—

Hwang Jongi couldn’t hold back his disappointment.

“So, you’re saying that it can’t be helped?”

Hwang Mun-Yak was Eunha Merchant Guild’s prominent leader and Hwang Jongi’s father. With every passing day, Hwang Mun-Yak’s health continued to deteriorate. Until recently, he was at least conscious, but a couple days ago, he ceased even waking up as the severity of his symptoms increased.

An unconscious man couldn’t even eat food to nourish his body.

If this continued, it was clear that his breathing would end within a few days.

In a hurry, Hwang Jongi had invited influential people the world over. Now he had even begun to seek help from prominent Taoists, whom he had a relationship with, but not a single answer had come back yet.

Today, he had a glimmer of hope when a figure of the Sichuan Tang family, who boasts about their knowledge in poisons, came to him. However, what happened had left Hwang Jongi wallowing in disappointment.

“It is difficult.”

Unsurprisingly, Hwang Jongi sighed at the negative comment he heard.

“Are you saying that even the sect known as the ‘master of poisons’ is unable to help my father?”

“It is true that we pride ourselves as the foremost experts on poison in this world. We can assist in matters related to any poison.”

“But?”

“But, your father’s malady isn’t caused by poison.”

Hwang Jongi narrowed his eyes at this statement.

“Even after seeing these symptoms, you’re saying that?”

Tang Myung, the elder of the Tang Sect, shook his head.

“Although the symptoms are similar, this hasn’t been done by poison. There seems to be a fundamentally different cause.”

“Ugh.”

Hwang Jongi’s complexion darkened to the point where it couldn’t get much darker.

Even though he invited the best and most influential people in their fields and wielded his financial power to promise the greatest compensation he could, he still couldn’t find someone to cure his father’s illness.

“Are you certain that this isn’t simply his age catching up to him?”

“These symptoms aren’t natural.”

“Then, then what the hell is going on?”

Tang Myung slightly lowered his gaze, visibly troubled.

Seeing that, Hwang Jongi sighed.

“I am sorry. I know that you did your best, I am just a little frustrated.”

“I am sorry for being unable to help.”

“Not at all. Forgive me for not seeing you off.”

Tang Myung got up and left outside with a bitter expression.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Hwang Jongi held his head as he mumbled.

His father’s illness was getting worse day by day. How could he stop this? Despite having so much money, was he unable to do anything for his father?

‘What sin did my father commit for this to happen?’

Hwang Mun-Yak had devoted his life to helping the poor. He knew that Heaven’s will is not necessarily executed in retribution, but wasn’t this too harsh?

To die after suffering from an unknown disease for over a year…

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“May I come in?”

“Ah… yes. Elder.”

The door opened, and a man came in. It was a white-haired man in an impressive white uniform.

“I just saw Elder Tang Myung leave.”

“Yes.”

“Young master, I am embarrassed to keep saying the same thing, but now is the time to admit it. The only way to save Elder Hwang is through Taoist Ritual.”

Hwang Jongi’s face grew bleak upon hearing what was said.

“I understand what the elder is saying, but I don’t want to rely on it just yet.”

“Young master. Didn’t I tell you? The elderly’s symptoms are because he went against the flow. He collected too much negative qi and twisted his foundation. If you can make the decision to let us handle it, there might be a chance.”

Hwang Jongi turned his head and looked at the man.

The man nonchalantly continued as if the gaze piercing him wasn’t burdensome at all.

“It isn’t common for the sect leader of the Great Southern Edge Sect to personally offer help. This privilege is only being extended to you because he is Elder Hwang of the Eunha Merchant’s Guild. Time is running out. Please, don’t do anything you will regret.”

“… I wish to wait longer.”

“No use.”

The man clicked his tongue. It was as if he considered Hwang Jongi’s actions to be pathetic.

Hwang Jongi bit his lower lip.

The reason he ignored this man’s rude remarks was simple. This man here was the Southern Edge Sects’ Elder, Ki Mok-Seung.

The Southern Edge Sect has been famous as one of the Ten Great Sects for a long time, and in recent years, their name has soared to even greater heights throughout the world. He wasn’t sure about this generation, but Hwang Jongi was sure that this sect would occupy the highest peak at the top of the world within the next few generations.

Besides, Xi’an is a place that has been under the influence of the Southern Edge Sect since ancient times. With the elder of such a sect offering to help them, Hwang Jongi couldn’t afford to sever their ties and had no choice but to refuse politely.

‘They will probably ask for a fortune in return.’

Giving money wasn’t the issue.

If they could really save his father, he was willing to give up all his possessions. However, if they had the confidence to save his father, they wouldn’t have asked for the payment in advance but would ask for it later after truly saving him.

Having lived his life with his father as a merchant, Hwang Jongi knew what the other party would aim for in this situation.

“We haven’t yet received replies for the letters I sent out. I will make a decision after receiving the responses.”

“This is really frustrating. How could they cure this disease when all those doctors and healers you’ve already invited failed? Did you not hear a word the Tang sect elder said?”

Hwang Jongi’s eyes twitched.

This man spoke as if he had heard the conversation between Hwang Jongi and Tang Myung. He might not have realized, but didn’t this man just admit to eavesdropping on them?

‘Shameless.’

Hwang Jongi sighed deeply.

Unfortunately, he lacked the confidence and strength to the point that out now. If Hwang Mun-Yak’s condition deteriorates further, his role in the Eunha Merchants will shrink. Then, it would be necessary to maintain a relationship with the Southern Edge sect, which holds great influence within the city.

Even if that meant that he would have to use a lot of money.

“I ask for a little more time. It isn’t that I lack faith in the Southern Edge Sect. It’s because, as a son, I hope to do something more for my father.”

“There isn’t much time left. If he dies, you shouldn’t forget that it was the result of the young master’s vain obsession.”

Hwang Jongi clenched his fist.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It was then.

“Young master!”

An urgent voice came from outside.

“What’s going on?”

“Mount Hua! A man has come from Mount Hua.”

“Mount Hua?”

“Yes! From Mount Hua!”

Hwang Jongi’s eyes trembled.

He did send a letter to Mount Hua. However, since there wasn’t much to expect from a sect on the verge of ruin, he sent the letter rather late.

Judging by the time, the letter must have only reached them one or two days ago. Yet, they already sent someone here?

‘Perhaps?’

Did they know something about Hwang Mun-Yak’s symptoms and decided to send a person rather than a letter?

Was it the Divine Hand of Mount Hua?

Hwang Jongi, who saw a ray of hope, was about to get up from his seat when he heard a cold voice.

“Mount Hua?”

Ki Mok-Seung’s eyes opened wide. His expression hardened by the word Mount Hua and then let loose a harsh voice.

“They’re merely a ruined mess, what can they even do! How dare they come here!”

Hwang Jongi bit his lip.

He knew that Ki Mok-Seung was speaking with his sect in mind, but Hwang Jongi had the impression that this man was speaking as if the Southern Edge Sect was already in control of the Eunha Merchants.

“Young master. There’s no need to meet such people. What does Mount Hua know that would allow them to cure this?”

Hwang Jongi’s face hardened.

“Even so, they traveled here after receiving my call for help. Do you think that I would send them away without even properly greeting them?”

“You need to listen to me—”

“Elder.”

Hwang Jongi cut him off.

“This is the Eunha Merchants Guild. Don’t forget that this isn’t the Southern Edge Sect.”

“Ahem!”

Ki Mok-Seung tried to hide his discomfort, but Hwang Jongi ignored it and got up. He hurriedly opened the door and went outside.

‘We never know.’

No one in the world could even name the disease; even famous sects had given up on helping them. Then, maybe, just maybe, the answer would come from an unexpected place.

Hwang Jongi came out and looked around.

“Where are the guests from Mount Hua?”

Hwang Jongi’s subordinate deeply bowed while responding.

“At the entrance.”

“Are you saying that you left visitors who traveled from afar at the gate? What sort of disrespect is that! No matter how horrible the situation within is, such rudeness is unacceptable!”

Hwang Jongi yelled with a fierce bellow; the subordinate didn’t ask for forgiveness and simply looked at the gate.

“I was going to ask him to come… but-”

“Move. I will go there myself.”

“Young master. But…”

Hwang Jongi’s face hardened as he moved. He didn’t like his subordinate’s awkward attitude.

‘Since when did the Eunha Merchants Guild divide their guests according to status?’

If his father was conscious, he would have scolded everyone involved.

Those who do business should treat everyone equally. Elder Hwang’s theory was that those who divided customers by their names and status weren’t qualified to do business.

People might say that the might of Mount Hua had weakened, but it was rude to ask them to wait at the gate when they came to help!

‘Um! I need to set things straight!’

Hwang Jongi resolutely moved to the entrance.

—

Outside the gates of the Eunha Merchant Guild, Hwang Jongi made his way quickly, his anticipation growing. As he approached the entrance, he saw a figure standing alone in the sunlight—a young man, dressed in the robes of Mount Hua, with the plum blossom pattern emblazoned on his chest. His black robe swayed gently in the wind, but it was his aura that caught Hwang Jongi’s attention. He could sense an air of maturity beyond the boy's youthful features.

The young man raised his head as Hwang Jongi approached, his face calm and composed.

“We have been rude,” Hwang Jongi said, offering a formal bow to the boy. “I apologize for not properly greeting you sooner.”

The young man, his expression placid, gave a small nod. “It’s all right,” he replied with the voice of someone far older than his years. “I didn’t come here hoping to be treated well.”

Hwang Jongi blinked, somewhat taken aback by his words. This kid... Is he really from Mount Hua?

“I am Hwang Jongi of the Eunha Merchant Guild,” Hwang Jongi continued, trying to mask his surprise. “It was my negligence, so please allow me to take full responsibility.”

The boy nodded once more, his gaze steady. “It’s fine. I came alone. I heard about Master Hwang’s condition while staying in Weinan. You know Yeo Dong-Jun, correct?”

Hwang Jongi’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the name. “Yeo Dong-Jun?” He thought back to the days when Yeo Dong-Jun had been one of his partners, before they had gone their separate ways. He was one of the very few who had been invited to help cure his father, though he too had failed. But Yeo Dong-Jun was no ordinary healer.

The young man reached into his robes and produced a sealed letter. He handed it to Hwang Jongi. “This is from Yeo Dong-Jun. He has faith that I can cure Elder Hwang.”

Hwang Jongi took the letter, his hands trembling. His mind raced with hope and skepticism. Can this boy really help?

He unfolded the letter, scanning the familiar handwriting. The contents were simple but carried weight:

To Hwang Jongi,

I trust that the one who brings you this letter is capable of healing your father. He is known by many titles: the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua, the Golden Lotus of Mount Hua, and the Divine Hand of Mount Hua. If there is any hope left for your father, it lies in his hands.

Hwang Jongi’s breath caught in his throat as he looked up at the boy once more. The Hidden Dragon? The Golden Lotus? The Divine Hand? These were titles known throughout Shaanxi, but he had never imagined that someone so young would bear them. And yet, there was no mistaking the calm confidence in the boy’s eyes.

“Are you truly the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua?” Hwang Jongi asked, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

The young man nodded. “Yes. I am Chung Hwa, 3rd-grade disciple of Mount Hua. I am here to help your father.”

Hwang Jongi was struck silent for a moment. Then, he bowed deeply, gratitude and hope flooding through him. “Please, follow me. I will take you to my father immediately.”

Chung Hwa followed Hwang Jongi.

“Let’s see if we can save him,” Chung Hwa whispered to himself, determination flashing in his eyes.

—

They reached the door to his father’s chamber, where the elder, Hwang Mun-Yak, lay unconscious, his breathing shallow. The faint sound of his ragged inhalations seemed to echo in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Master Hwang is in there,” Hwang Jongi said, his voice heavy with worry as he looked at Chung Hwa. "I don't know what kind of power you possess, but I pray that you truly can help him."

Chung Hwa nodded calmly, his eyes never leaving the door as if he had already accepted the weight of the task ahead. "I will do my best."

Just as they were about to enter, a voice from the outside interrupted them.

“Young Master!” A guard appeared at the far end of the corridor, his face pale with urgency.

“What is it?” Hwang Jongi turned sharply, his hand gripping the door frame for support.

“There’s someone else from Mount Hua! They’ve arrived,” the guard exclaimed, bowing quickly in deference.

Hwang Jongi’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Another from Mount Hua?" he repeated, disbelief in his voice. He had only just received Chung Hwa’s arrival. Was it possible that someone else had come in such a short time?

Chung Hwa stepped forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and realization. “I told you I came from Weinan,” he said, his tone calm but sharp, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “This means the Sect Leader must have sent someone."

Hwang Jongi blinked, the pieces falling into place. The Sect Leader of Mount Hua sending someone that's not the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua?

Chung Hwa’s eyes narrowed, ‘who did the Sect Leader send?’

Chapter Text

The faint scent of roasted meat and herbs filled the air in the guest room as Chung Myung leaned back comfortably in his seat, a bowl of food in front of him. His eyes darted between the spread before him and the young man sitting across the table. He had insisted on getting food before anything else, and Chung Hwa, with a slightly raised brow, had indulged him.

“So, the food here’s decent, huh?” Chung Myung asked with a half-mouthful of meat, swallowing it before continuing. “Better than Mount Hua’s rations, that’s for sure.”

Chung Hwa stared at him quietly, his fingers lightly resting on the table, and then let out a soft, knowing sigh. His gaze never wavered from Chung Myung’s face, though his expression remained polite and calm.

“I trust you're not simply here to indulge in food, Sajil,” Chung Hwa said softly. “I do hope you have some reason to be here.”

Chung Myung froze for a second, the sudden mention of his purpose causing a momentary shift in his demeanor. However, he quickly composed himself, lifting his head and grinning with his usual brash confidence.

“Of course, I have a reason, Sahyung!” He paused for effect, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But for now, let’s focus on the important stuff, like this delicious food! Who could think straight on an empty stomach?”

Chung Hwa didn’t smile, but his eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sharpening like a blade. He hadn’t been fooled.

“You came from Mount Hua,” he started, his voice steady, but with a hint of suspicion. “Tell me, do you know about Master Hwang’s illness? From the facial expression of yours, it seems like you heard about his condition”

Chung Myung didn’t flinch, though a bead of sweat began to form at the back of his neck. He could feel the weight of Chung Hwa’s eyes on him, as though the older disciple (But he's older than this little brat!) had already seen through him. But he wasn’t going to let it show—Chung Myung wasn’t the type to back down, even when caught off guard.

“I’ve heard a little,” he said nonchalantly, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. “It’s some kind of disease, right? No idea what exactly, but it sounds bad.”

Chung Hwa didn’t look convinced, his eyes still locked on Chung Myung with a quiet intensity. He leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his arms, but his gaze never left the older disciple.

“I see,” he said slowly, a slight frown tugging at the edges of his lips. “You’ve heard a little, but you don’t know much? Quite strange for someone sent from sect.”

Chung Myung’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments, but he quickly regained his confidence, picking up his bowl and taking another bite of the meat as if nothing had happened.

“Eh, I’ve got enough information. It’s not like the details matter much anyway, right? What matters is helping the old man.” He continued to speak through his mouthful of food, not missing a beat.

But Chung Hwa’s gaze didn’t soften. He leaned forward slightly, his tone now firm and purposeful.

“I’m sure you must know, Sajae,” Chung Hwa said, his voice dropping lower. “3rd-grade disciples are not allowed to leave the sect without permission.”

Chung Myung froze for the briefest of seconds, his hand pausing mid-air as he reached for another piece of meat. He could feel his heart race just a bit faster, but he maintained his casual demeanor, flashing a smile at Chung Hwa.

“Ah, come on now, Sahyung. You’re gonna lecture me on that?” He let out a loud laugh. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just here for the fun! Who said anything about permission? Sometimes, you just gotta live a little.”

Chung Hwa’s expression hardened ever so slightly, his gaze unwavering.

“So you came here without permission?” he asked again, his voice colder now. "You came without telling anyone?"

Chung Myung leaned back in his chair, placing his empty bowl down with exaggerated care as he stared at Chung Hwa with that same grin, but now, his eyes held a touch of amusement, almost as if he found the older disciple’s suspicion more entertaining than concerning.

“Permission, permission, permission!” Chung Myung waved his hand dismissively. “You make it sound like we’re in a military camp. Relax, sahyung. I’ve got my own ways.”

Chung Hwa studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he observed the younger man, who was clearly trying his best to keep up the carefree appearance. But something was off—Chung Myung’s words were too forced, his manner too nonchalant.

A faint sigh escaped Chung Hwa’s lips. He stood up slowly, walking toward the window, his back turned to Chung Myung as he glanced out at the city below. The silence hung heavy in the air.

“I’m no fool, Sajae,” Chung Hwa said quietly. “I know you didn’t get permission.”

Chung Myung’s grin faded slightly, and though he didn’t say anything immediately, he finally spoke after a moment’s hesitation.

“You sure are observant for a kid,” he muttered, looking away for a moment. Then, with a dramatic stretch, he added with exaggerated nonchalance, “But hey, no harm done, right?”

Chung Hwa’s eyes flickered back to Chung Myung,

He looked at Chung Hwa, his expression softening, though only a little. “I’ve got my own reasons for coming, and they’re not exactly something I’m gonna tell you. But just trust me, Sahyung—everything’s fine.”

Chung Hwa didn’t respond immediately. He stood still, thinking it over, the weight of the situation settling heavily between them. He turned back to face Chung Myung, his expression more serious now than it had been before.

“Just know this, Sajil,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “If you continue acting without permission... I can’t cover for you. Not this time.”

For a moment, there was a brief silence. Then, as if breaking the tension with a sudden shift, Chung Myung grinned widely again, his usual arrogance returning.

“Ha! No problem, sahyung. I didn’t ask you to cover for me anyway.”

Chung Hwa sighed, but the tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, before his tone grew serious again. “For now, let’s focus on what we came here to do. We still have work to do with Master Hwang’s condition.”

Chung Myung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Right, right! Enough talk. Let’s go save this old man’s life already. No more delays!”

As they stood up and prepared to head toward Hwang Mun-Yak’s chamber.

Despite the unspoken conflict between the two of them, both knew one thing was true. There was no turning back now.

—

Chung Myung turned his head and looked toward the bed. Lying there, covered in a thick silk blanket, was an old man whose life clung to him by a thread.

“His condition is worse than I expected…” Chung Hwa murmured as he checked Master Hwang’s pulse with delicate fingers. His voice remained calm, but the slight crease between his brows betrayed his concern.

“Well.”

Chung Myung, standing beside him, narrowed his eyes as he took a good look at the man’s pale face. His forehead wrinkled slightly in thought.

‘It’s definitely the symptoms of the Demon Flower.’

A poisonous energy that devoured meridians from the inside out—one of the most vicious techniques to ever come out of the Demonic Sect.

He’d need to confirm it properly. Chung Myung stepped forward and gently pulled the blanket down.

As the patient’s body was exposed, Chung Myung's brows furrowed further. The man's chest was faintly flushed with a red hue, and black lines traced along his veins like withering roots.

“But that doesn’t mean he can’t be saved.”

The calm, firm voice came from Chung Hwa, who was already reaching for his satchel.

Chung Myung’s head turned sharply to the younger boy. His brow lifted.

‘…He’s different. How does he know it’s the Demon Flower?’

And not just that—he had immediately said he could treat it.

Chung Myung silently studied the boy. His tone was confident, his movements composed. There was no hesitation in him. That was not something a normal child could display.

There was no way he was from the Demonic Sect. And he clearly wasn’t an Immortal Healer who had lived for centuries in the mountains.

If this brat could treat this kind of wound, then he was either bluffing, or...

‘He’s a beast,’ Chung Myung thought, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. ‘He’s really something.’

Turning back to Master Hwang, Chung Myung placed two fingers on the old man’s wrist and slowly channeled a thin thread of qi into him.

A faint stream of clear, refined qi entered through the man’s meridians, and almost immediately, the blackened veins pulsed, retreating slightly. The red flush on his chest flickered like a dying ember.

‘It’s definitely the Demon Flower. But… something’s off.’

Chung Myung’s eyes darkened slightly.

‘This isn’t how it’s supposed to spread.’

If it had been the result of someone proficient in Demonic cultivation, Master Hwang wouldn’t have lasted even three days. Even trained warriors with tempered bodies wouldn’t survive that long.

But this man had been holding on for months.

‘It’s artificial. Someone forced it into him… but they didn’t know what they were doing.’

“This one is different from the cases I’ve seen before,” Chung Hwa said suddenly, opening a small pouch and pulling out a roll of silver needles.

Chung Myung glanced at him briefly, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah. The technique’s a mess. Sloppy. Like a child scribbling with poison.”

From the corner of the room, Hwang Jongi watched with bated breath. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.

He couldn't hide his nervousness. The two boys before him—one too calm, the other far too relaxed—spoke words he could barely understand. Yet their serious expressions filled him with dread.

Finally, unable to endure the silence, Hwang Jongi stepped forward and asked cautiously.

“…How is it? Is there still… hope for my father?”

Chung Hwa glanced at him and gave a soft but steady nod.

“Yes. The condition is severe, but not irreversible. I’ll need time—but it can be treated.”

Hope bloomed in Hwang Jongi’s eyes, his body trembling slightly at the words he so desperately needed to hear.

Then Chung Myung added with a nod, “Yeah, treating this isn’t that hard.”

Hwang Jongi looked between them, eyes wide. “Really? You’re both certain?”

“Of course.” Chung Myung shrugged casually. “But we can’t just jump in and start stabbing him with needles or pumping him full of qi. We need preparation.”

“Preparation… like what?”

Chung Myung’s lips curled into a familiar mischievous smile.

“First of all…”

He raised a finger dramatically.

“Let’s eat.”

“...”

Chung Hwa, who had just finished sterilizing his needles, stopped and looked at him like he was the plague itself.

“…Didn’t you just eat?”

“I did!” Chung Myung beamed proudly, tapping his stomach. “But that was for me! This—” he gestured at the patient on the bed, “—is for him.”

“…I don’t see how those are different.”

“Ke-heh.” Chung Myung grinned like a fox. “Sahyung, don’t you know? A full stomach makes for a clear mind! You want me to perform miraculous healing on an empty stomach? That’s like asking a swordmaster to fight with a stick!”

“You’re holding a stick anyway,” Chung Hwa muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.

“Oi.” Chung Myung leaned in with a cheeky grin. “You say something?”

“…Nothing.”

Hwang Jongi looked between the two, completely lost.

Were these really Mount Hua disciples?

Still, as strange as they were… they had given him something no one else had.

Hope.

Chung Myung clapped his hands together.

“Alright! I’ll go stuff my face again while you get your herbs and whatever ready. Then we can kick this weird half-baked poison out of the old man’s body!”

Chung Myung left the chamber with Hwang Jongi, while Chung Hwa left with Master Hwang and started to prepare things that'll be needed.

—

“Who is the person closest to your father?”

“Closest?”

“Yes. A person who guards Elder Hwang. A person who follows him dawn till dusk. Otherwise, someone well trusted, the last person to be suspected of anything untoward.”

“… why are you asking that?”

“Let’s just say that it’ll be necessary for the treatment.”

Hwang Jongi tilted his head.

“Of course, it is me. It is my job to serve my father.”

“Except you.”

“Except me…”

Hwang Jongi, who thought deeply, shook his head.

“I don’t know. Father was a man who worked a lot. So, of course, several people were around him or looked after him. There are at least five people who meet your standards and often stay around him.”

“A lot more than I thought. Hmm.”

Chung Myung scratched his cheek.

But then shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

“If there are five of them, finding out which one it is won’t be easy.”

“Find out what?”

“Are you really asking because you can’t understand? Eh. No, right?”

“…”

Hwang Jongi’s face went stiff. He didn’t ask because he was unaware of the truth. It was because he didn’t want to admit it.

“You mean, someone did this from inside?”

“At first, I thought that it was from outside, but looking at Elder Hwang, I don’t think that was the case. From my point of view, this was a betrayal from the inside.”

Hwang Jongi’s face went stiff.

“Please refrain from such words, Young Taoist! All members of the Eunha Merchants are like family! They have been together with us their entire lives, and they all respect my father! They—”

“Or not.”

“—Uh?”

Chung Myung patted his full stomach.

“If we suspect them and they’re truly innocent, then it’ll all be fine anyway, right?”

“… that is true.”

Chung Myung yawned.

“So don’t worry. We will investigate and find out.”

Hwang Jongi just nodded his head.

Seeing that, Chung Myung clicked his tongue and thought.

‘He is pretty naïve for a merchant.’

Chung Myung knew just how poisonous humans can be.

He’d seen monks who preached mercy give into a rage and go mad and watched innocent Taoists plot the most efficient way to slit a person’s throat.

Human beings are two-sided.

You can be an angel to someone and the devil to another.

‘Well, that’s beside the point.’

The important thing was that a person wanted to kill Hwang Mun-Yak.

Judging from his condition, the culprit clearly has poor comprehension of the Demon Sect’s technique. The problem was that, even though it couldn’t do much damage to Hwang Mun-Yak at first, over time and prolonged exposure, he became gravely afflicted.

Even if someone had knowledge of the demon flower, they wouldn’t be able to tell how the symptoms originated unless they had seen it with their own eyes, like Chung Myung and maybe Chung Hwa too.

‘The culprit must be well hidden.’

Luck was on his side.

‘Kua. This is a good deed.’

Save people and make money.

“How do you plan on investigating?”

“I am already doing it.”

“… Hm?”

Hwang Jongi asked with a blank face.

“You are doing it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re eating food, but you say you are investigating?”

“Ah. Not that. The fact that I am in a room with the young master is enough for the investigation.”

Hwang Jongi couldn’t figure it out.

“Just watch. Soon a lot of fun things will happen. Young master, be sure to keep your eyes open. Ah, there is one more thing you need to do.”

“What is it? I’ll try my best.”

Chung Myung picked up the bottle next to him.

“One more bottle.”

“…”

“Quickly.”

“…”

A flood of tears was concealed within Hwang Jongi’s heart.

‘I need to talk with Sahyung after this’

Chapter Text

“So, what you’re saying is… someone from the Eunha Trading Company is responsible for Master Hwang’s condition?” Chung Hwa asked, his voice steady as he carefully cleaned the needles. His eyes never left the task at hand, but his mind was fully engaged with the conversation.

“That’s right,” Chung Myung replied casually, sitting at the far end of the table, his legs crossed and a small, amused smirk playing on his lips. His posture was lazy, but his eyes never missed a detail.

Chung Hwa’s gaze flicked over to his younger companion. ‘There’s no way he’d speak so casually about this if there wasn’t something more to it,’ he thought. “So, you’re saying that someone from the Eunha Trading Company actually caused this?”

“Yeah,” Chung Myung nodded, rolling his neck. “It’s pretty clear when you think about it. Master Hwang’s symptoms are not just from the Demon Flower. They were induced by someone with access to poisons and techniques that aren’t exactly common knowledge. And the fact that he’s still alive means they didn’t know what they were doing.”

Chung Hwa’s brows furrowed slightly. His hands, now cleaning a needle with care, didn’t pause. “If it’s someone from the Eunha Trading Company, then they must be well-connected. Master Hwang trusts them, and it would be difficult for anyone to pull off something like this without being noticed.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Chung Myung said with a sly smile. “There are five people in particular who are close to Master Hwang. And out of all of them, one of them is the most likely culprit.”

Chung Hwa’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. “Five? That’s a lot of suspects. Do you have a clearer idea of who it might be?”

Chung Myung’s smile widened, and he lifted his hand, holding up five fingers. “Five suspects, five possible angles. But don’t worry, I’ve got a method for narrowing it down. I’ve been keeping an eye on things for a while now.”

Chung Hwa raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been watching them? You plan to just... observe them and wait?"

A chuckle escaped from Chung Myung’s lips. “Well, Sahyung, if there’s one thing I know about people, it’s that they always slip up eventually. Everyone’s got a weakness. And no one’s perfect at hiding their intentions.”

Chung Hwa’s lips twitched as he continued his work. “I’m sure you’ll find something soon, then.” His voice was thoughtful, but his focus remained on the delicate herbs in front of him.

Chung Myung leaned back, folding his arms behind his head as if he was entirely at ease. “You don’t have to worry, Sahyung. I have my ways of getting information. Just leave the investigation to me.”

“I’m not worried.” Chung Hwa glanced up, meeting his gaze with a knowing look. “But I’ll leave the investigating to you. I’ll focus on the herbs and the preparations for Master Hwang’s treatment.”

Chung Myung’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he shot a grin at him. “Of course. You handle the boring stuff. I’ll handle the fun.” His tone was light, but there was an edge of seriousness in his eyes.

Chung Hwa couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I swear, you act like everything’s a game.”

“Because it is!” Chung Myung shot back, his grin never faltering. “But don't worry, Sahyung, I won’t let this little game of mine put Master Hwang in danger. It’s just a matter of time before I figure out who did it.”

Chung Hwa, despite his best effort, found himself letting out a small chuckle. “You really are something else.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Sahyung,” Chung Myung replied, beaming like a cat that had just caught a mouse. “Now, while you’re stuck with the herbs, I’ll be doing the real work. After all, someone’s got to be the hero around here.”

Chung Hwa shook his head, though his lips twitched upward in amusement. “Just don’t do anything reckless.”

“Who, me? Reckless?” Chung Myung asked with exaggerated innocence. “I would never.” He shot a wink at Chung Hwa before standing up and heading toward the door.

Chung Hwa sighed but couldn’t suppress a smile as he returned his focus to the herbs. "Do what you want, but just don’t cause a mess."

Chung Hwa trusted him… but it seems like fate isn't on his side.

—

Chung Hwa stared at the mess in front of him, rubbing his temples in frustration.

Chung Myung was lying unconscious on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm, his face pale and his body drenched in sweat.

‘Two hours. Two hours… And he ends up like this?’ Chung Hwa muttered under his breath, his gaze sharp as he examined the state of his younger companion. "I told him to not cause any mess… Ugh."

Chung Myung had barely been gone for two hours—just two hours. And in that time, he managed to get into trouble. Apparently, the second-class disciple from the Southern Edge Sect—what was his name again? Lee Song-Baek?—had asked to spar with Chung Myung, and naturally, it had ended in disaster.

What was more absurd was that the spar had escalated quickly, and now Chung Myung’s qi meridians were completely strained, putting him in a dangerously weakened state.

Chung Hwa sighed deeply as he took another look at the idiot lying before him. ‘Sometimes, I wonder if he ever uses his brain,’ he thought, exasperation creeping into his expression. He quickly moved to the bed, carefully checking on the boy’s condition.

‘I swear, this child’s going to be the death of me,’ he grumbled inwardly, pressing a hand to Chung Myung’s forehead and assessing the flow of his qi. Despite his irritation, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern. He couldn’t ignore the fact that the situation was serious.

Chung Hwa looked down at Chung Myung, who was finally starting to show some signs of recovery. Despite his frustration, there was a hint of affection in his gaze.

"Idiot..." he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked real heat. "What am I going to do with you?"

—

Wheeze

Wheeze

A low, feeble breath escaped from the corner of Chung Myung’s bedridden mouth. His face was pale and tired, seemingly devoid of blood, which showed how precarious his condition was.

It was slow and quiet with no consistent rhythm, but it continued, nonetheless. However, it wouldn’t be strange if he stopped breathing entirely.

Wheeze

Only the short and weak breathing filled the room when a strange silence followed.

Click!

The door opened with a slight sound. And then, nothing happened for a while.

Did a few minutes pass?

Kiik!

The door began to open carefully.

Before long, a man carefully snuck his way in. A cautious movement, not even letting his footsteps make a sound. The room was blanketed in total darkness, leaving it impossible to recognize who had entered.

The man snuck in like a cat hunting for food as he came to Chung Myung’s side.

Wheeze

Wheeze.

The sight of Chung Myung breathing weekly with a pale face caught the eye of the silent intruder.

The mysterious figure, staring at Chung Myung’s face, slowly raised his hand.

Their fingertips were dyed an eerie black as if coated in ink.

“I have no grudges against you; just think of this as the price for disturbing my work.”

The man mumbled to himself, then slammed the blackened hand towards Chung Myung’s neck.

At that moment

Grab!

Chung Myung, who should have been exhausted and tired, suddenly pushed aside the blanket and grabbed the man’s wrist.

“Ugh!”

Chung Myung looked at the man with a tired complexion.

“…”

A strange smile on his face, the most wicked and triumphant kind.

“I got you, you son of a bitch!”

Chapter Text

Chung Hwa rubbed his temple, staring incredulously at his so-called sajae—Chung Myung—and the culprit, Beon Ja-Bok, who was now kneeling before him. The situation was a mess, as always.

“So, in short, what you’re saying is… Chung Myung caught General Beon Ja-Bok attempting to assassinate him when he was bedridden, and he’s the cause of Elder Hwang’s illness, using the Demon Hand technique?” Chung Hwa raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with disbelief as he tried to make sense of the chaos.

Hwang Jongi, who had been watching the entire situation unfold, cleared his throat, his voice heavy with the weight of everything that had just been revealed. “That’s correct, young master,” he confirmed. “Beon Ja-Bok tried to justify his actions by claiming he was responding to something… but it’s clear that he’s the one responsible for my father’s condition.”

Chung Hwa’s sharp gaze flickered toward Beon Ja-Bok, who was kneeling on the floor, his body trembling.

‘So that’s what he meant when he said he could capture the culprit of Master Hwang’s condition…’ Chung Hwa’s mind slowly pieced the puzzle together. His eyes narrowed, focusing on Chung Myung. “You really have a way of catching the guilty, don’t you?”

Chung Myung leaned back lazily in his seat, a confident grin curling at the corner of his lips, though there was something deeper beneath the surface—something far more serious than the usual cocky bravado. “I didn’t even break a sweat, Sahyung. Song-Baek-ah did all the hard work. I just helped catch the culprit.”

Lee Song-Baek, standing a little off to the side, bowed awkwardly. He looked like he had rolled through dirt, his clothes disheveled, and his face flushed with the shame of the whole situation.

“If you have time, I would like to check on your condition, Mr. Lee Song-Baek,” Chung Hwa said, his voice oddly calm despite the tension in the room.

“Ah, everything’s fine… but if you don’t mind,” Lee Song-Baek stammered, his hesitation almost comical.

Both Chung Myung and Chung Hwa exchanged a glance. ‘He’s like a bunny,’ they both thought at the same time, the thought almost bringing a smile to their faces.

Chung Hwa, however, was quick to shift his focus back to the situation at hand. “Also, Sajil,” he added, his smile turning into something more dangerous. “If I’m right, you should be in bed, recovering, right?”

Chung Myung flinched at the mention of his condition, his eyes shifting nervously to the side. “I didn’t hurt that much. You can let it slide.”

Chung Hwa let out a long, exasperated sigh, massaging his temples in frustration. “Then, Minor Lord, I’ll let you handle the rest while I…” His gaze shifted to the two boys. “… take care of my… patients.”

Hwang Jongi, clearly caught off guard by Chung Hwa’s sudden decisiveness, quickly nodded. “Of course, young master. I’ll take care of the traitor. Also, about—”

“Master Hwang’s treatment will start early tomorrow,” Chung Hwa cut him off smoothly. “You don’t have to worry, Young Master Hwang.”

Hwang Jongi gave a stiff nod, relief flickering across his face, and then, without another word, he turned to leave with Beon Ja-Bok in tow with the guards.

Chung Hwa’s smile didn’t soften as he turned back to the two boys in front of him. “Now… you two,” he said with a strange gleam in his eyes, “follow me.”

---

The air in Master Hwang’s chamber was thick with the scent of rare herbs and boiling medicine.

It was still early in the morning. The sun hadn’t fully risen, its light just barely spilling through the sliding windows, casting dim golden streaks across the floor. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint bubbling of the cauldron and the low hum of spiritual chants.

Chung Hwa sat on the floor, legs folded beneath him as he carefully monitored the heating cauldron in front of him. Beads of sweat dotted his pale forehead, not from heat but from focus. His sleeves, usually pristine, were rolled up to his elbows, revealing thin wrists and steady hands stained faintly with powdered herbs and tinctures.

Before him, the Cleansing Elixir of the Demonic Roots simmered—a dark liquid tinged with the soft shimmer of golden pollen. The strong scent of Silver Lotus and Demonbane Root filled the room, fighting against the unnatural stench that always clung to demonic energy.

“…Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…”

Chung Hwa’s voice was low and rhythmic as he counted, gently stirring the mixture clockwise with a silver ladle. On the thirtieth count, he slowly stood, bringing the cauldron off the flame.

He moved with methodical precision. He placed the cauldron on a nearby cooling mat, waiting as the steam faded.

Once cooled to the correct temperature, he added Crimson Watermelon Sap, a deep red liquid that thickened the elixir. The final touch, Golden Lotus Pollen, was sprinkled in gently—each flake glimmering like powdered moonlight.

The moment it touched the mixture, the liquid hissed softly and turned a more translucent hue.

Chung Hwa sighed. “Good. It’s stable.”

He poured a small amount into a porcelain cup and approached the bedside.

Master Hwang lay there—pale, breath shallow. His lips were dark, skin tinged with red streaks and blackened veins across his temples and wrists. The unmistakable mark of Mahwa—Devil’s Flower—still clung between his brows like a dark bruise.

Chung Hwa knelt beside him.

“Elder Hwang,” he said softly, brushing two fingers against the man’s wrist to check the pulse. It was erratic, but present.

He carefully lifted the elder’s head and slowly fed the medicine into his mouth.

The elder’s throat moved sluggishly, but he drank.

“…Good.”

Chung Hwa placed the cup aside and reached for his second preparation—the Tranquilizing Needle.

The needle was no ordinary metal. It shimmered faintly, forged from Moonlit Silver and infused with the calming essence of Heaven’s Breath. He held it up to the light, eyes narrowed.

“I’ll need to insert them precisely,” he muttered, “or his heart might collapse under the pressure.”

His fingers were steady, but his brows furrowed deeply.

With silent focus, he located the first pressure point near the heart. He pressed lightly on the skin, then inserted the needle in one smooth motion.

Master Hwang’s body tensed.

Chung Hwa froze, holding his breath.

Then the elder’s breathing steadied slightly. The blackened veins near his heart withdrew, and the crimson tint dulled.

“One.”

Next, the wrist. Another needle. Insertion. Another tremble.

Another breath drawn in, steadier than before.

Two more to go. He repeated the process, his body tense with each placement, until all four needles were in place—two near the heart, two near the wrists.

Then came the hardest part.

Chung Hwa placed both palms gently on Master Hwang’s chest.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as his own internal energy gathered at his dantian. His meridians stirred.

He sent out a thin, measured stream of qi.

It was gentle—barely enough to flicker a candle—but it surged with the unique clarity of Hundred Petal Flow Technique.

As his qi entered Master Hwang’s body, it met resistance. Darkness pushed back, tendrils of corrupted energy snapping and hissing like wild snakes. Chung Hwa’s eyes tightened. His palms trembled slightly.

“This is worse than I thought…”

The corrupted qi resisted violently, even lashing out at his own meridians. Sweat poured down Chung Hwa’s neck, soaking into his robes. He gritted his teeth.

“I won’t let this thing kill you…”

He pushed forward.

Inside the elder’s body, his pure qi fought the corrupted forces head-on. It was like swimming against a riptide. The Devil’s Flower was rooted deep in the core of Master Hwang’s inner energy center, clinging to it like a parasite.

Each minute that passed felt like hours.

His own breathing turned rough. He could feel his qi thinning, but it didn’t feel much due to his massive qi running through him.

With one final surge, he poured a last wave of energy into Master Hwang, focusing on the core.

Then—

Crack.

A sound only heard internally—a shift in the elder’s energy pathways.

The blackness between his brows shuddered, then slowly… began to fade.

The dark veins along his body turned faint.

His skin—slowly, painstakingly—began to regain a natural hue. The tension in his limbs relaxed. His breath deepened.

And after what felt like eternity…

“…Hnn…”

Master Hwang groaned softly.

Chung Hwa’s eyes snapped open. He looked down, eyes wide with disbelief.

The elder’s eyes fluttered open slowly.

“…Wha… where…”

“You’re awake.” Chung Hwa’s voice was soft. His shoulders sagged.

Master Hwang blinked slowly, confused. His eyes scanned the room. “I… feel…”

“You’ll feel better soon. But don’t move.” Chung Hwa removed the needles one by one with practiced care.

His own hands trembled faintly now from exhaustion. His face pale.

But the treatment had worked.

He exhaled deeply.

“…It’s over,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Maybe he spoke too soon.

The door of the chambers opened, Chung Myung came into the room, “Sahyung, I might or might not need your help?”

Chapter Text

Lee Song-Baek groaned softly as consciousness returned to him. His body ached from head to toe, and he felt like he’d been struck by a boulder. No—a series of boulders.

“Ugh…”

He blinked slowly, the unfamiliar wooden ceiling swimming into view. This wasn’t the Southern Edge Sect’s quarters. The bed was too soft, and there was a faint scent of medicinal herbs in the air.

A low murmur came from beyond the barely cracked door.

“…Are you insane?”

Lee Song-Baek stilled.

That voice—refined, firm, calm—carried the weight of discipline. A strange contrast to the chaos in Lee Song-Baek’s mind.

It was not him- but who?

Was it the Divine Hand of Mount Hua? Chung Hwa was it?

He had heard of him before. Chung Hwa was quite well-known in Shaanxi, and not just there. Rumors spread that he had joined Mount Hua—the once-ruined sect—two years ago. Since then, his reputation has exploded. In a short time, he had earned several titles, each more impressive than the last. The most famous of them were Golden Lotus, Divine Hand, and Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua.

At first, Lee Song-Baek didn’t mind it, or perhaps he just thought it was all rumors—exaggerations fueled by the gossip of those who had no real understanding of what happened at Mount Hua–

“You keep doing this—challenging anyone who breathes wrong in your direction. What if you went too far this time?” the voice continued. “He’s still a child.”

A scoffing sound followed. “A child? Please. He picked up a sword, didn’t he? Then he should be prepared to be hit with it. What kind of sect trains disciples who can’t even take a beating?”

Lee Song-Baek’s eyes widened. That raspy, irritable voice was unmistakable.

Chung Myung.

“Still,” the calmer voice—now Lee Song-Baek realized it must be that red-haired Mount Hua disciple, Chung Hwa—pressed on. “You can’t just go around knocking people unconscious. This wasn’t even a formal match.”

“He asked for it.”

“You provoked him.”

“He wanted to fight again!”

“After you humiliated him publicly.”

“…Tch.”

There was a pause, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone drinking tea—or slurping it, rather rudely.

“You don’t get it,” Chung Myung muttered. “These guys… they learn some flashy moves, talk big, and think they’re sword gods. But they don’t know why their swords move. They don’t know what’s behind it.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Chung Hwa said, voice low now, almost tired. “But there are better ways than leaving someone crumpled on the floor.”

A beat of silence passed.

“…Whatever. It’s not like I could’ve gone easy on him. If I held back, he wouldn’t have understood a damn thing.”

“Then go break rocks outside, not people,” Chung Hwa sighed.

Lee Song Baek could hear the faint rustling of fabric and the soft pat of footsteps as Chung Hwa entered the room. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle and caring.

Despite the pain, Lee Song Baek was surprised by how different Chung Hwa was from the others. He looked up at the younger boy, his pale face flushed with embarrassment. "I’m... I’m alright," he muttered, though he didn’t sound convincing.

Chung Hwa simply smiled softly, and his hand reached out to ruffle Lee Song Baek’s hair in a gentle, comforting gesture. "You’re a bit like a bunny, aren’t you?" He chuckled softly before his tone grew more serious. “Next time, try not to get on his bad side. He may act reckless, but you can’t afford to be on the receiving end of that temper."

Lee Song Baek blinked up at him, unsure of what to say. His heart raced from the proximity to Chung Hwa's warmth and kindness, but the throbbing pain in his body reminded him of what had happened.

"Anyway, Chung Hwa Sahyung, let’s spar!" Chung Myung’s voice cut in, shifting the mood entirely. "I’m bored, and you’re the only one who can keep up with me. Come on, let’s have some fun!"

Chung Hwa sighed deeply, clearly not thrilled by the request. "You’re impossible. But fine, if you insist." He turned back to Lee Song Baek for a moment, giving him a reassuring nod before stepping out of the room.

Lee Song-Baek couldn’t help but stare after them, wondering how anyone could deal with someone like Chung Myung. But then he thought back to Chung Hwa’s gentle kindness, and for some reason, he felt a little more at ease.

Lee Song-Baek, curiosity piqued, trailed behind them, ignoring the pain that throbbed through his body. This was his chance to see for himself what the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua, Chung Hwa, was truly capable of.

—

The spacious courtyard of the Eunha Merchants Guild was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind. At one end, Chung Hwa and Chung Myung stood facing each other, their expressions focused, but the atmosphere between them was anything but tense.

Chung Myung, as usual, had a grin on his face, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. His stance was brash and open, the usual reckless energy of the ‘Sajil’ he was known as. He held his wooden sword loosely, waiting for the first move.

Chung Hwa, on the other hand, was calm, poised. His eyes were steady and calculating, like a predator observing its prey. He gripped his sword firmly, standing with a measured grace, prepared to act at a moment's notice.

Lee Song-Baek sat off to the side, watching with keen interest, his body still sore from his previous encounter with Chung Myung. His eyes flicked back and forth between the two figures. The disparity in their auras was obvious, even though both were skilled. It was clear that the younger of the two, Chung Hwa, was something far beyond what Song-Baek had anticipated.

Without a word, Chung Myung dashed forward, his movements quick, his wooden sword raised to strike. His style was wild but unpredictable, throwing out quick jabs and slashes, aiming to overwhelm Chung Hwa.

But Chung Hwa’s response was almost too smooth, too controlled. He sidestepped with ease, dodging each strike with the fluid grace of a dancer. His sword moved like an extension of his body, striking with precision and purpose, but never with unnecessary force.

In a split second, Chung Hwa countered, his wooden sword knocking Chung Myung’s aside before tapping him gently on the shoulder.

“Focus, Chung Myung,” Chung Hwa’s voice was calm, but firm.

Chung Myung, unbothered by the tap, grinned widely, swinging again. This time, he used his speed to his advantage, aiming for a quick flurry of strikes to disorient Chung Hwa.

But Chung Hwa anticipated each move before it was even fully made, dodging with ease, his own wooden sword coming up to gently tap Chung Myung’s back.

“You’re getting slower,” Chung Hwa commented, his tone light, almost teasing.

Chung Myung let out an exaggerated groan, but his grin only grew wider. “You’re just too fast,” he said, clearly enjoying the challenge.

Lee Song-Baek, still sitting at the edge of the courtyard, couldn’t help but watch in disbelief. He’d never seen anything like it before. The speed, the fluidity... it was like watching two masters spar, but the one with the upper hand was younger, calmer, and far more controlled.

The way Chung Hwa moved—each step deliberate, each strike perfectly timed—was a far cry from the reckless energy of Chung Myung. There was no waste in his actions, no unnecessary force. Every move seemed calculated to end the fight with minimal effort.

Even more astonishing to Lee Song-Baek was the fact that, despite his seemingly effortless control, Chung Hwa was never in danger. Every strike from Chung Myung, no matter how quick or clever, was deflected or avoided without breaking Chung Hwa's calm composure.

Chung Myung, panting slightly, took a step back and lowered his sword, clearly impressed, though his grin never faded. "Alright, alright! You win this time."

Chung Hwa, with a slight chuckle, relaxed his stance as well. "I don’t win, Chung Myung. You just lose."

Lee Song-Baek’s eyes were wide with disbelief as he took in their sparring. These two were on an entirely different level. He had thought he understood strength and power, but this was something else—something that left him in awe.

‘He's far stronger than him’

The fight ended, but Lee Song-Baek could not stop watching them, his admiration for the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua and Chung Myung only growing deeper.

—

Chung Hwa sat gracefully at the table, his posture poised and dignified as he faced Hwang Mun-Yak, Elder Hwang, and Hwang Jongi, the Minor Lord. His eyes glimmered with calm intelligence, and there was an air of quiet nobility surrounding him that gave an almost ethereal quality to his presence.

“Is your body quite recovered now, Master Hwang?” Chung Hwa asked, his voice smooth, yet carrying an undeniable weight of concern.

“Hm. It is difficult to believe, but my body feels as light as a feather—so light, in fact, that I feel as though I might soar into the skies. I feel no less than ten years younger,” Hwang Mun-Yak replied, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude.

Chung Hwa's lips quirked ever so slightly in a delicate smile. “That is quite... peculiar, but, as one might expect, it is only the natural result, for this affliction is neither a common disease nor poison.”

“I cannot find the words to properly express it, but I feel as youthful as I did in my prime,” Hwang Mun-Yak continued, his voice tinged with awe. “All thanks to the Hidden Dragon sitting before me and the young Taoist—Chung Myung, if I remember correctly.”

Hwang Jongi, his brow furrowed, glanced between his father and Chung Hwa, still processing the inexplicable nature of the situation. The fact that his father, bedridden for an entire year, had now recovered so rapidly was cause for celebration. Yet, the sudden restoration of his strength and vitality without any ill effects was unsettling.

“What exactly happened to that child?” Hwang Jongi asked, his voice betraying both curiosity and concern.

Chung Hwa’s expression remained serene, though there was a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “You refer to Chung Myung, I presume?” He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “He will return shortly, but he has taken it upon himself to speak with someone before rejoining us.”

Hwang Mun-Yak nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I see. Then, let us discuss the reward once he returns, shall we?”

“As you wish, Master Hwang,” Chung Hwa replied, his tone measured and composed. “I am most content to do so.”

—

“Is that the Southern Edge Sect’s new technique?”

“… yes”

“Twelve Movement Snow Flower Sword technique?”

“Yes.”

Chung Myung smiled bitterly.

‘They twisted the name?’

This was nothing short of open provocation towards Mount Hua, who knew what would happen if they learned about this.

‘No. That’s not it.’

These people claimed it as their own and displayed the technique openly. Most likely, the current Mount Hua wouldn’t even be able to recognize it for what it was.

This was making a mockery of Mount Hua.

If Chung Myung hadn’t appeared, Mount Hua wouldn’t have known anything even after watching the men of the Southern Edge Sect use their sect’s technique.

The evil man who made this sword was the only thing clawing away at Chung Myung’s mind.

“Who all learns this sword art?”

“…”

“What, are you overthinking it?”

Lee Song-Baek nodded.

“From the second-class disciples.”

“From the second-class. So, the first-class, second-class disciples, and the elders have all learned this sword?”

“I heard that the elders didn’t learn it. Those who are learning are first and second-class disciples.”

“They haven’t learned….”

As his words trailed off, Chung Myung’s eyes lit up with a fearsome glint.

If one of the elders had invented this new technique, they would have definitely transmitted it to the first-class disciples below them.

‘Then…the person who completed this sword technique is still in the sect?’

This was good news.

If the man who committed this crime was already dead and buried, then who would be left to receive retribution?

‘I don’t know who it is, but I will make sure that he pays the price for this!’

Chung Myung gritted his teeth, looking at Lee Song-Baek.

“You!”

“Uh? Ah.. yes!”

“Don’t learn this.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I said don’t, so don’t! You bastard!”

Chung Myung hit Lee Song-Baek on the back of his head.

He whimpered as he held his head.

“Tch.”

Chun Myung, who felt irritated, looked at Lee Song-Baek and spoke.

“This is unattainable.”

“…”

Lee Song-Baek looked at Chung Myung with blank eyes. However, he knew this was the truth.

If Lee Song-Baek hadn’t come and asked to spar again, then it may have taken Chung Myung several years or longer before learning about the Southern Edge Sect creating this technique.

It can be said that Lee Song-Baek helped him.

Chung Myung is a man who repays grace shown and never forgets grudges held. Although indirect, this grace was a bit much to ignore.

“The Southern Edge’s martial arts are centered around the basics. They seem slow and heavy right now, but it gets stronger once the sword is sharpened and polished. If you hope to achieve greatness, stop learning this right away.”

“But the elders say that this sword is one step ahead of our existing sword technique.”

“Of course, they would say that.”

Because not a single person must have managed to fully master the Twelve Movement Snow Flower Sword technique.

Brilliant techniques advance quickly yet stagnate further in development. When a person who focuses on their foundation and honestly trains the basics and a person who learns complex and flamboyant techniques fight one another at a superficial level, then the flamboyant one will win every time.

‘No, doesn’t the Southern Edge sect understand….’

“Ah…”

Chung Myung sighed.

‘I think I know.’

The main culprit behind all of this might be Chung Myung himself.

The Southern Edge Sect must also be proud of their own sword techniques. However, Chung Myung, who they hated for decades, died in the battle with the Heavenly Demon Sect. The Southern Edge never once defeated Chung Myung.

Then was the sect weak?

Absolutely not.

‘If they were weak, they would never occupy a spot among the Ten Great Sects.’

On the contrary, the Southern Edge Sect had many geniuses. Throughout the history of the Southern Edge Sect, they always had talents blooming within.

These geniuses existed in Chung Myung’s time too, but these geniuses all crashed head-first into the great wall that was Chung Myung…

‘No wonder they were skeptical about their techniques.’

Idiotic people.

‘If I had been in the Southern Edge Sect, then I would have been the Southern Edge Supreme Sword.’

It’s not the martial arts that matter. No, martial arts are essential, but the person who uses and wields the technique matters most.

“Well…”

At that time, Lee Song-Baek glanced at him and opened his mouth.

“I shouldn’t learn the Twelve Movement Snow Flower Sword technique?”

“Yes.”

“But…”

Lee Song-Baek hesitated to speak, to which Chung Myung glanced at him and said in a severe tone.

“Your path cannot be defined or set by others.”

“…”

Lee Song-Baek looked at him with a different expression.

“Some decisions require you to heed advice from others, but the real decisions in life need to be made by oneself alone. Neither the words of an elder nor mine will help you.”

Chung Myung turned around, and without hesitation, he started to walk towards the Eunha Guild.

“W-wait!”

Chung Myung stopped and slightly looked back.

Lee Song-Baek bowed.

“Thank you for your guidance.”

“Well, it was nothing.”

Chung Myung waved his hand and moved on.

Lee Song-Baek kept looking intensely at his moving figure and took a deep breath.

“I feel as though I’ve encountered a Divine Taoist... perhaps even two,” Lee Song-Baek thought to himself, his mind drifting towards the Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua, Chung Hwa.

He glanced at the back of Chung Myung.

Chapter Text

“Chung Myung-ah,” Chung Hwa called out softly, his voice calm but laced with a teasing sharpness. “Are you sure this is your first life?”

Chung Myung, who had been lazily leaning against the side of the carriage, flinched. A bead of sweat formed on his temple. “W-What do you mean, Sahyung?” he asked, eyes darting toward the window instead of meeting Chung Hwa’s gaze.

The two of them were seated inside a finely adorned carriage provided by Hwang Mun-Yak. It rocked gently along the road leading back to Mount Hua. For some reason, the merchant had arranged a separate carriage just for the two of them, something Chung Myung was beginning to regret.

Chung Hwa’s lips curled into a smile—not a gentle one, but the kind that made Chung Myung’s neck itch. “You know, Sajae, isn’t it a little strange?”

Chung Myung didn’t answer, but his ears twitched slightly. Chung Hwa continued, voice smooth and casual.

“A beggar, appearing out of nowhere, at the gates of Mount Hua—a ruined sect with nothing to offer. That alone is odd enough. But then that same beggar proceeds to beat up senior third-class disciples not long after entering, despite supposedly having no prior experience with martial arts or cultivation. Doesn’t that sound… suspicious?”

Chung Myung shifted in his seat, scowling. “I’m just talented.”

“Mm. I suppose.” Chung Hwa leaned in slightly, resting his elbow on the side of the carriage, cheek resting against his palm. His black eyes gleamed with mischief under his long red bangs. “Then, there’s the little adventure to Xi’an.”

“Tch.”

“You left Mount Hua without permission,” Chung Hwa said, as if recounting a bedtime story. “Traveled across the province to treat Master Hwang Mun-Yak. Not only that—you confidently claimed you could heal him when no one else could. And it just so happened to be Demon Flower.”

Chung Myung looked out the window, his expression sour. “And?”

Chung Hwa gave a light chuckle. “But here’s the strange part, Sajae—Demon Flower isn’t just some illness anyone can treat. It’s a martial art disguised as a disease used by the Demonic Sect. It’s so obscure that even learned physicians barely recognize it. The only people who would know how to deal with it are… those who lived through the Demonic Sect’s assault on the Central Plains a hundred years ago. Or perhaps…”

Chung Hwa trailed off meaningfully.

“Or perhaps?” Chung Myung muttered, arms crossed now.

“Someone who was there.”

Silence hung in the carriage for a moment.

Chung Myung finally turned toward him, expression unimpressed. “You’ve been reading too many storybooks, Sahyung.”

Chung Hwa smiled, eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh? Then tell me, Chung Myung-ah… why do you sometimes mutter names when you're distracted? Names no one uses anymore. Why do you know more about Mount Hua’s sword forms than even the elders? Why do your eyes go cold every time someone mentions the Demonic Sect?”

Chung Myung scowled. “Because I care about Mount Hua,” he snapped. “Because this sect has fallen to ruin and someone needs to care about it! Is that so strange?”

“That’s not strange at all,” Chung Hwa replied softly, watching him with quiet eyes. “But you—you are.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue and turned away again, clearly irritated. “You ask too many damn questions, Sahyung.”

“And you answer none of them.”

Another beat of silence passed before Chung Myung mumbled under his breath, “You’re annoying.”

Chung Hwa simply laughed, reaching out to ruffle Chung Myung’s hair in return. “And you’re terrible at lying.”

The younger Taoist slapped his hand away with a growl, cheeks red. “Tch! Don’t treat me like a kid!”

“I’ll stop when you stop acting like one.”

Chung Hwa smiled gently. “So? Who are you really?”

Chung Myung hesitated, gaze lingering on the passing trees outside the carriage window. Then, finally, he sighed deeply. It wasn’t a sound of defeat, but of resignation—like a man finally giving in after being worn down.

“…Do you know about the Plum Blossom Sword Saint?”

Chung Hwa raised a brow, his smile growing curious. “Plum Blossom Sword Saint? One of the Legendary Three Swordsmen… the Thirteenth Disciple of Mount Hua, named Chung Myu—hmm,” he trailed off, eyes narrowing as realization dawned. “I see… so you’re him.”

Chung Myung didn't confirm it right away. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice low.

“I was. A long time ago.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a breath. “I lived, I fought, and I died.”

Chung Hwa didn’t interrupt.

“I watched as Mount Hua stood tall. Then I watched it fall because of me. We were hailed as the strongest under the heavens, and then we crumbled into obscurity, forgotten like dust.” His voice grew bitter. “And after I died, I… opened my eyes again. In this body. Weak. Small. Starving.”

Chung Myung looked at his hands, small and slender, calloused from relentless training. “I couldn’t understand it. I thought I’d died, but the heavens decided to throw me back into this mess. Into a -ruined- Mount Hua…”

He chuckled darkly, voice dry and laced with sarcasm. “So of course, the first thing I did was beat up a few disciples. Can you blame me? I had to see how bad it had gotten.”

Chung Hwa, unusually quiet, studied him.

“But then I realized something,” Chung Myung continued. “It wasn’t just about seeing the ruins… I couldn’t stand it. Seeing Mount Hua like that—on the verge of disappearing. I couldn’t walk away.”

His gaze turned sharp, and for a moment, the boyish mischief faded, revealing something older. Something colder. “So I decided. If the heavens threw me back, then fine—I’ll fix what they let fall apart.”

Silence filled the carriage. Chung Hwa leaned back slowly, arms crossed, eyes no longer teasing but thoughtful.

“You know,” he said after a long pause, “when you first came to Mount Hua, I thought you were insane.”

“I am insane,” Chung Myung said without missing a beat.

Chung Hwa let out a short laugh. “True. But now I understand. You weren’t just a lunatic with a sword—you were an old man in a child’s skin. That explains the arrogance. The sharp tongue. The recklessness.”

“I’m not reckless,” Chung Myung muttered.

Chung Hwa ignored the protest. “It also explains why you have no sense of patience or humility.”

“I have plenty of patience,” Chung Myung grumbled. “I just don’t like wasting time on stupid things.”

“Like manners?”

“Exactly.”

Chung Hwa gave a small, amused sigh. “So you truly are the Plum Blossom Sword Saint.”

“…Don’t go calling me that,” Chung Myung said quickly, expression sour. “That guy’s dead.”

Chung Hwa raised a brow. “But aren’t you him?”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue and leaned back, arms behind his head. “I am but Plum Blossom Sword Saint died hundred years ago, I'm Chung Myung, not Plum Blossom Sword Saint”

There was a long pause before he muttered under his breath, “Besides, if anyone finds out, they’ll go crazy. Plum Blossom Sword Saint, returning from the dead? No thanks.”

Chung Hwa smiled softly, looking out the opposite window. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Chung Myung glanced sideways at him. “You’re not gonna ask more questions?”

“Oh, I’ll save those for later,” Chung Hwa replied, smirking faintly. “I have quite a few.”

Chung Myung groaned. “Why do you talk like an old man?”

Chung Hwa turned to him, lifting a brow. “Says the actual old man.”

“I’m not—ugh, whatever.”

Chung Hwa chuckled again and reached over to ruffle Chung Myung’s hair.

The younger jerked away. “Stop that!”

“You were cuter before you talked,” Chung Hwa teased.

“You were quieter before you knew,” Chung Myung snapped back, but his ears were slightly red.

The carriage rattled on, the sunlight spilling in through the small window and casting soft shadows across their robes. For a moment, nothing needed to be said.

Chung Myung let out a long sigh. “You’re not gonna start calling me ‘Elder’ or something weird now, are you?”

Chung Hwa smiled and rested his head back. “You’ll always be my Sajae. Even if you’re older than dirt.”

Chung Myung glared at him.

“…But thanks,” he added quietly, and turned his face back to the window, just as the distant peaks of Mount Hua came into view.

“You know…” Chung Hwa spoke suddenly, his voice softer, quieter. “I know that feeling too—reincarnation.”

Chung Myung turned toward him, blinking. “…What?”

Chung Hwa’s lips curled into a faint smile, his tone light despite the weight of his words. “Because I, too, have reincarnated into this world.”

Chung Myung’s eyes widened. “You… what?”

He stared, slack-jawed, as Chung Hwa let out a quiet laugh—one filled with amusement at the younger’s expression.

“As I said,” Chung Hwa mused, resting his chin on one hand, “this might be my third life. Or maybe just my second and a half. Who knows?”

Chung Myung continued to gape at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Are you messing with me?”

“Not at all,” Chung Hwa replied, tone amused but eyes serious. “It’s true.”

“…You’re serious.”

“Would I lie about something like that?”

Chung Myung squinted at him. “Yes.”

Chung Hwa laughed. “Fair. But this time, I’m not. I truly did live before… and died… before waking up here, in this body.”

He looked up, eyes distant, as if recalling something far beyond the rolling mountains. “That’s why I understood you, even before you said anything. That old soul of yours—I recognized it. It’s hard to miss, when you’ve carried one yourself.”

Chung Myung stared for a long moment before grumbling, “What kind of insane world puts two reincarnated lunatics in the same sect?”

“Fate, perhaps.” Chung Hwa smirked. “Or maybe punishment.”

Chung Myung groaned and let his head fall back against the carriage wall. “Just great. So now I’m not even the only one with weird memories. You too? What were you in your last life? Some great master?”

Chung Hwa chuckled. “No, nothing like that. My first life was…chaotic, miserable, full of wars and my second life was… quite peaceful than my first even though there were monsters lingering around every corner”

Chung Myung gave him a side glance. “Huh. So you really are an old man.”

“And you’re one to talk?” Chung Hwa raised a brow. “Weren’t you eighty when you died?”

“I was in my prime!”

“You were drinking vinegar and yelling at kids to respect their elders.”

“I had every right to!”

They both burst out laughing, the air between them lightening.

After a pause, Chung Myung crossed his arms and mumbled, “…So you reincarnated too, huh.”

“I did.”

“…That makes two of us.”

Chung Hwa glanced over. “Scary, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Kinda feels like we’re cheating.”

Chung Hwa smiled. “Then let’s make it count.”

Chung Myung gave him a sideways grin. “Tch. You’re starting to sound like me, Sahyung.”

“I’ve been around you too long.”

They shared a quiet look of understanding, two old souls in young bodies.

—

Mount Hua was in a state of turmoil.

Seven days had passed since a third-class disciple had suddenly disappeared from Mount Hua. This was a huge thing.

Of course, when Mount Hua collapsed, there were more than just one or two who escaped at night. But this wasn’t something common anymore.

Thanks to that, the atmosphere in Mount Hua was horrendous.

“… could he have been in some kind of accident?”

“Accident?”

“It doesn’t seem like he is going to come back no matter how long we wait. But, I don’t see any reason for him to abandon Mount Hua, right?”

“Right.”

Yun Jong nodded his head.

Jo Gul had said it. Chung Myung had no reason to leave Mount Hua. If he had even the slightest intention of doing so, then he wouldn’t have given away that pill.

Did he give away such precious medicine just to leave Mount Hua immediately after?

Rather, maybe he gave them poison and left before it could take effect.

But….

“If Chung Myung doesn’t have a reason to abandon the sect, but he still hasn’t come back after all this time… doesn’t that mean something bad happened to him?”

“Gul.”

“Yes, Sahyung.”

“No matter how hard I try, I just can’t imagine him getting into an accident.”

“…”

“Can you imagine it?”

“I can—”

Chung Myung’s smiling face flashed through Jo Gul’s thoughts. Of course, not a warm smile but a wicked one.

‘Ehh. No way.’

Even if he was thrown down a cliff and then an even bigger cliff, Chung Myung would find a way to survive even in hell. It was impossible for him to not come back.

“Then, what happened?”

“It would be nice if it was something which could satisfy the elders. They seem quite angry.”

“Yes…”

“Sasuk Un Geom has been summoned to the sect leader’s residence again. I’m worried something bad is going to happen.”

“Sigh.”

Yun Jong frowned and turned his side.

‘What the hell is going on with him?’

Even though he thought everything would be fine, Yun Jong was strangely worried about Chung Myung,

“Isn’t he too arrogant!”

Hyun Jong frowned at the sharp voice.

“It has been seven days and nights already. This is the first time a third-class disciple has been away for such a long time without permission.”

“Hmm.”

“This isn’t something we can overlook. Now, the sect is finally re-establishing its foundation, what will others think!?”

When the head of finance, Hyun Young, raised his voice, everyone nodded. Clearly, this wasn’t something to overlook.

It was then that Hyun Sang, the head of Martial Arts, spoke.

“Now now, calm down, Sahyung.”

“How can I be calm now?”

“Why are you thinking about it like that? What if the child has gotten in some accident? He might need help right now.”

“Accident? What are the odds of an accident happening on Mount Hua? Even if it’s true, he walked out on his own two feet. Does that mean that it’s our mistake?”

“He may have lost his footing….”

“… Ummm…”

Realizing that this possibility made sense, Hyun Young immediately closed his mouth.

Mount Hua is indeed a steep mountain. It was common for people to trip and get injured. Even skilled warriors would occasionally get into danger; it wouldn’t be strange if a third-class disciple died.

“Shouldn’t we search the Mountains? If he is injured….”

“Right, we should search.”

Hyun Jong, who was silent, answered with a heavy voice.

“We can certainly not rule out that possibility.”

However, Hyung Young didn’t give up.

“Even so, we cannot let this slide. Isn’t this only a problem because a third-class disciple left Mount Hua on his own accord? Why was that child even given permission?”

Hyun Jong’s face slightly hardened.

It was none other than Hyun Jong who gave Chung Myung the authority. Now, Hyun Young was saying that the sect leader had given too much freedom to the child.

“There was a reason for that.”

“Reasons exist everywhere. Order can only be kept by following the rules of the sect.”

“Finance head.”

“Sect leader. This is something that shakes the basis of Mount Hua. Since when did Mount Hua give special privileges to children? He’s not even a great disciple, only a third-class disciple.”

“That’s enough.”

“…”

Hearing the heavy and cold voice, Hyun Young kept his mouth shut.

If he said anything more, it would cross the line. He also didn’t want to fight with the sect leader.

“… sect leader. I went too far. I didn’t mean to blame you.”

“I know.”

Hyun Jong took a deep breath.

‘What is happening?’

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t understand why Chung Myung would do such a thing. Did he give him too much authority?

‘Did I misjudge that child?’

Un Geom, who silently watched the proceedings, opened his mouth heavily.

“Sect leader.

“Go on.”

“I will call the disciples and organize a search party. We will search through Mount Hua and the village below as well.”

“Hm.”

Hyun Jong nodded his head.

“You should.”

“After finding Chung Myung, I will return. It was my mistake to not discipline him properly.”

“How could it be your fault? You aren’t even his mentor.”

“I am the mentor for all the children.”

“But…”

Hyun Jong, who was about to speak, shook his head and closed his mouth. If he said anything more, it would imply that the dorms were under no one’s guidance.

“It isn’t your fault. It is mine for putting too much trust in that child.”

“Sect leader, it’s not like that.”

“The important thing right now is not to find who is at fault. It won’t be too late to discuss the right from wrongs after finding that child. It would be a pity if we were unable to save him because we wasted too much time here, wouldn’t it?”

Everyone bowed their heads.

Even if there was a mistake, no one could deny Hyun Jong’s heartfelt concern for the disciple.

“Un Am.”

“Yes, sect leader.”

“Organize a search party with you as the head. We need to provide all the support we can in order to find that child. First, we will find him and then—”

At that moment, a loud voice interrupted the meeting from outside.

“Sect leader!”

Hyun Jong’s forehead twitched.

“I am in a meeting right now—”

“The child is back! Chung Myung is returning!”

Hyun Jong jumped up from his seat; there was a sense of relief which he couldn’t hide on his face.

“How is his condition?”

“Yes. He looks fine. But—”

“Enough. I will go and see for myself!”

There was nothing wrong, which meant there was no accident. Hyun Jong was glad to hear that he was safe.

“Wait, sect leader.”

However, Hyun Young didn’t let him leave.

“What?”

“Sect leader.”

Hyun Young glanced around at the people around him and opened his mouth.

“I understand that the sect leader cares for that child. Considering all that he has contributed, it is natural for him to receive such treatment.”

Hyun Jong narrowed his brows.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Sect leader. Do not spoil the child too much.”

“…”

“Punishment isn’t only a tool to govern the sect, but also to nurture the people properly. If he isn’t punished appropriately for what he did, then that brat will never realize what he did wrong.”

Hyun Jong sighed.

“You think I don’t know that? Don’t worry. I’m the one who wants to raise him more righteously than anyone else. If the child is safe and well, he will be punished for half a month….”

“That won’t do.”

It was Un Geom who cut in.

“The crime of not returning to Mount Hua is serious. He should be imprisoned for at least half a year.”

“Un Geom, he’s only a child, a third-class disciple.”

“If this was something the second-class disciples did, it would be a year. Please punish Chung Myung appropriately according to the offense committed.”

Hyun Jong closed his eyes tightly.

The position of sect leader doesn’t exist so that he can impose his will on others and decide everything. It was a position that gathered everyone’s opinions to come to a decision.

“… do the others think the same?”

“Yes.”

“Sect leader. Don’t hate us. We do treasure the child’s talents, but that’s the reason we are being strict.”

Hyun Jong nodded his head.

“I know.”

Hyun Jong walked outside without loosening his stiff face. All those who were seated stood up as well.

Un Am sighed as he watched this happen.

‘What did you do? You foolish child.’

Only Un Am understood how much Hyun Jong cherished Chung Myung. So, no one except Un Am knew how he was feeling.

They nearly reached the entrance and saw Chung Myung entering the gate.

“That…”

Un Am and Hyun Jong’s faces were burning up.

No injuries. It was good that Chung Myung was uninjured, but he should have at least been self-reflecting on his sins. Yet, the child’s face showed no signs of regret at all.

Why is he walking tall with straight shoulders and acting so confidently?

“You brat!”

Hyun Yeong screamed.

“Huh?”

Chung Myung, who noticed so many elders approaching him, tilted his head.

“Where are you all going?”

“You idiot! Where do you think YOU are going?”

“To see the sect leader?”

Hyun Young, who was screaming, looked at Chung Myung, who bowed to Hyun Jong.

‘Th–that guy?’

“Chung Myung.”

“Yes, sect leader.”

“Is there a reason why you left Mount Hua?”

“Yes. Sect leader. There were unavoidable circumstances.”

Hyun Jong nodded his head.

“Explain. If your explanation doesn’t convince us, you will be punished accordingly. Mount Hua’s laws are strict.”

Hyun Young couldn’t stand being there.

“How dare this third-class disciple be this arrogant! If you can’t give us a proper reason, I guarantee you’ll suffer extreme consequences! Sect leader favors you so much, but this is how you repay his kindness!?”

Chung Myung looked at Hyun Young and scratched his head.

“No, it isn’t like—”

“You! Speak properly!”

Firmly, an answer came from behind Chung Myung.

“Don’t behave like that, please.”

“Huh?”

Only then did they realize that Chung Myung wasn’t alone.

“Elder Hwang?”

“And Chung Hwa?”

“E-elder Hwang?”

“Didn’t we receive a letter saying that you had fallen ill?”

“Chung Hwa, aren’t you supposed to be in Weinan?”

Hwang Mun-Yak, who entered the gate with Chung Hwa, looked at everyone. Then observed the sect leader.

And he bowed.

“It is nice to meet you again, sect leader. How have you been?”

“Elder Hwang. It’s been so long since I last saw you. I heard that you weren’t feeling well; I am glad that you seem to have recovered.”

He pretended to be calm, but Hyun Jong was shocked.

‘H-how is he here?’

Wasn’t it just seven days ago that they received a letter saying he was going to die of some serious disease?

Yet, Elder Hwang was here and looked to be in perfect form. He seemed like he was the same as the last time they met.

“Sect leader. Don’t be so angry. My life was saved thanks to these young disciples. They saved both the Eunha Guild and me too.”

“Y–yes?”

“It is Mount Hua’s grace which looked after Eunha. Which is why I decided to come here and give my thanks in person.”

“… what on earth?”

Everyone looked at Chung Myung and Chung Hwa.

Chung Hwa bowed slightly.

Chung Myung only grinned and shrugged.

“Well, that’s how it turned out.”

‘Ah!’

‘This brat!’

‘Somehow, it only makes me angrier.’

Chung Myung was still the best when it came to pissing off his elders. (And somehow Chung Hwa is dragged in this)

Chapter Text

Hwang Mun-Yak sat opposite Chung Myung and Chung Hwa, sipping his tea with practiced grace. The room was quiet, save for the faint clatter of porcelain and the rhythmic creaking of the wooden floor beneath their low table.

Chung Myung frowned slightly, staring at Elder Hwang as if gauging whether he was about to hear something useful or something annoying.

It was Hwang Mun-Yak who began the conversation, eyes glinting with amusement.

“How is it?”

Chung Myung blinked. “You say the strangest things, old man.”

“There is nothing wrong with asking,” Hwang Mun-Yak replied, completely unoffended.

He turned his gaze on Chung Myung with an expression that was hard to read—somewhere between curiosity and respect. Yet, in his heart, Hwang Mun-Yak still couldn’t quite believe what he was doing.

‘I, Hwang Mun-Yak, a man who has lived through blood, coin, and storms, am sitting across from children… and treating them as equals?’

It wasn’t arrogance. Objectively, he knew he was a figure of considerable influence in the business world. But here he was, speaking to two third-class disciples as though they were peers. And stranger still—he didn’t regret it.

“Aren’t we in the same boat now?” he said at last.

Chung Myung tilted his head. “Boat…”

He let out a grin, while beside him, Chung Hwa gave a long sigh as he placed his cup down with grace.

“With all due respect,” Chung Hwa said, voice calm and composed, “I believe crediting my Sajae and me for the salvation of Elder Hwang’s life is generous… but to say we now share a boat seems rather excessive.”

“I have no desire to be on the same boat as Mount Hua,” Hwang Mun-Yak said plainly.

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes. “Now, that’s honest.”

“Indeed,” Chung Hwa agreed, fingers tapping lightly on the table. “Refreshing, though a little bold, considering you’re drinking tea offered by this very sect.”

“To be precise,” Hwang Mun-Yak said without missing a beat, “without you two, Mount Hua wouldn’t hold any value to me.”

“You overestimate our worth,” Chung Hwa responded smoothly.

A small smirk lifted the corners of Hwang Mun-Yak’s lips. “Young disciples. I am a merchant. I have been one all my life. My only weapon is my judgment of character. And to be blunt, it has never failed me.”

He leaned forward slightly. “If my instincts were wrong, I’d already be in ruin. But if they’re right…”

He looked straight at the two Taoists.

“Then there is good fortune in both Eunha’s and Mount Hua’s futures.”

Chung Myung scratched his cheek and gave a crooked smile. “I don’t like people who say things like that.”

“Oh?” Hwang Mun-Yak asked.

“People who say ‘we’re in the same boat’ are usually the first ones to jump ship and stab you while you're rowing.”

The bluntness of the remark made the atmosphere crackle with honesty.

Chung Hwa chuckled softly, folding his hands in his sleeves. “Sajae is not wrong. History is filled with tales of such… convenient alliances.”

“Yet,” Hwang Mun-Yak said, “even if boats can be boarded or left at will, if two boats head to the same destination, it would be wiser to row together. Would it not?”

Chung Hwa tilted his head thoughtfully. “I suppose, provided both captains don’t have knives behind their backs.”

“Ha. I assure you, I hold no knife.”

Chung Myung gave him a look. “If you did, it wouldn’t matter. I’d break it.”

A brief silence passed as all three sipped their tea.

Hwang Mun-Yak eventually set his cup down. “Let me say this, then. The Eunha Merchant Guild will do its utmost to support Mount Hua from this day forward. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“You’re cutting ties with the Southern Edge Sect?” Chung Myung asked bluntly.

“That’s right.”

“I don’t recall asking you for that favor.”

“I want nothing in return,” Hwang Mun-Yak said. “I only wished to let you know.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Chung Myung muttered under his breath. ‘Let me know, my ass.’

Chung Hwa gave a faint smile as if reading both their minds. “We are grateful, Elder Hwang. Though, I will be honest with you—generosity from merchants is rarely without reason. Still, if the wind blows in the same direction for us, we shall not resist the sail.”

“Well said,” Hwang Mun-Yak nodded with admiration. “Will I be seeing you again soon?”

“The Sect Leader has already stated that if there is ever business with Eunha, it will be Sajae and I who are sent.”

“Excellent. I look forward to it.”

The three chuckled lightly. But despite the friendly air, tension crackled beneath the surface. Smiles were exchanged, but inside—

‘This slippery old fox.’

‘These sharp-tongued little brats.’

They were seasoned warriors of entirely different kinds.

“Young disciple,” Hwang Mun-Yak finally said, turning to Chung Myung.

“Hm?”

“This is the gamble of my life.”

Chung Hwa raised an eyebrow. “Gambles are best made by the young.”

“Well, I feel as though I’ve been given a new life. A man with a second life should bet on it.”

“But you don’t truly believe that, do you?” Chung Myung asked.

“Perhaps I just wanted to say something grand.”

Hwang Mun-Yak stood and looked at the two of them with solemnity.

“In return for saving my life, I’ll leave you with one piece of advice.”

“I’m listening,” Chung Myung said lazily.

“You two are… exceptional. Even if you scoured the world twice over, you might not find anyone more capable than the both of you.”

Chung Hwa inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “We thank you for your generous words, Elder Hwang.”

Chung Myung chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

—

The power of the Eunha Merchant Guild was genuinely shocking.

The people of the Eunha Guild demonstrated their ability to stabilize and overhaul the Hua-Um businesses in a matter of days—a feat Mount Hua had struggled to achieve despite using all their disciples.

As a result, a Buddha-like smile never left Hyun Young’s face as he walked around, satisfied with the progress.

Most of the time, this smiling face led to…

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, Elder.”

“Good, good.”

Hyun Young patted Chung Myung’s hair with a loving smile, more benevolent than anyone else could muster. It was as if honey were dripping from his eyes.

“Eat a lot. Eat a lot and go earn more good things.”

“… What?”

“No, I mean, raise Mount Hua’s reputation.”

“…”

“Chung Hwa-ya, when are you leaving for Weinan again?”

“… I’ll go to Weinan in a month.”

“I see, I see. Until then, this Elder Hyun Young will treat you well, okay?”

“…”

Hyun Young ruffled Chung Hwa’s hair in a fatherly manner.

The third-class disciples watched in shock. Hyun Young, who was usually as venomous as a serpent, was now laughing and gently stroking someone’s hair.

Chung Myung couldn’t help but feel like a sacrificial lamb being fattened before its execution.

‘I feel like I’m being trained indirectly.’

Chung Hwa glanced at Chung Myung and chuckled quietly, “First time?”

Hyun Jong and now even Hyun Young were all smiles. Their faces, once full of burdens, had begun to relax as the weight that had long been on their shoulders was lifted.

Hua-Um was stable now, and the elders were regaining their laughter.

Time passed like water, and the disciples of Mount Hua began to feel a peace they hadn't known in decades.

But while everyone enjoyed this tranquility, the third-class disciples were suffering.

“Ahhhhh!”

“Oh, myyyyyyy God!”

The third-class disciples, carrying rocks the size of human bodies, moved their exhausted bodies as sweat poured down like rain. They did push-ups with all sorts of screams and groans.

“Ackkkkk!”

“M-My waist…”

However, there was one thing different. The swearing, which used to be aimed at Chung Myung, was now replaced by cries of agony.

“I am dying!”

“You won’t die. You made it this far without dying. Straighten your back!”

“No, I am really going to die…!”

“You just have to do it two more times. Now, this is the last one. Once more! Okay! This is the last one!”

“Acck!”

After another push-up was somehow completed, one of the disciples gasped and cried.

“A-Are we going to die like this?”

“You aren’t going to die. Nobody has died yet.”

“… Ack.”

At first, they had started this training because Chung Myung ordered them to. Well, more accurately, he forced them to. They began their training to avoid missing their meals or being beaten.

But after several months, they realized something.

‘This works.’

No, it was more than just "working." It was changing everything. At first, they could only endure this grueling training because of the pill Chung Myung had given them, but now, they could feel the improvements in their bodies.

Their lower bodies were becoming more rigid and stable; their swords didn’t waver anymore. Their stamina had increased, and their entire bodies felt alive with energy.

Even though they had started out unmotivated, the spirit of a martial artist had awoken in them. Were martial artists not the sort of people who would go to any lengths to improve, even chewing a living snake if it meant advancing?

Who could complain if all it took to improve was lifting some stones?

The screams and groans grew louder as the training continued, and over time, the disciples who had previously carried bags of sand were now lifting heavy stones.

The most notable change was in Jo Gul.

“Ahhhh!”

Jo Gul lifted a rock twice the size of the others. Seeing that, the others couldn’t help but gasp in awe.

“Is he doing this without using internal qi?”

“Seems like it.”

The way they spoke had changed. It was only a few months, but they were visibly different. They had grown taller and their shoulders were broader.

Jo Gul had transformed so much that people would blink twice before recognizing him. He had gone from being one of the smaller disciples to a towering figure with a solid muscular frame.

Yun Jong watched with a smile.

‘It’s a strange thing.’

When they first started this training, Yun Jong had been filled with doubts. Mount Hua’s sword style was based on speed. It was a swordsmanship that pressed the opponent with endless changes in tempo and style.

Yun Jong had feared that this focus on increasing physical strength would interfere with the speed and fluidity of Mount Hua’s sword techniques.

But somehow, their swords had become even sharper, their attacks more precise.

Thanks to the results of their training, they had reached a new understanding of the sword arts they had been taught.

Now, they were learning the Falling Flower Sword.

It was a bit difficult at first, but Yun Jong was more than satisfied with their progress.

The Falling Flower Sword and Seven Star Step were unlike anything they had learned before. The more they practiced, the more they felt that these techniques would make them stronger once they truly mastered them.

It was a thrilling thought.

‘One more!’

“Uhhhhh!”

“Acckkkkkk!”

“Wow, your bodies are getting so big that your swords seem like chopsticks!”

“Hehe. Please! Bring me another sandbag!”

Yun Jong couldn’t help but chuckle. The disciples of Mount Hua were becoming more like a den of bandits.

It was incredible to see how the once-fragile disciples were now turning into hulking beasts.

“Sahyung. It’s time to eat!”

“Yes.”

In the past, everyone eagerly awaited the end of training, but now each disciple had set their own training schedules, pushing themselves harder than ever, often continuing on their own after the official training was done.

It was Yun Jong’s job to ensure they didn’t overtrain.

“Now, let’s head inside. We should wash up, eat, and prepare for morning practice.”

“Yes, Sahyung.”

“Finish what you’re doing first.”

“Um, yes.”

Yun Jong glanced around, then turned his attention to Jo Gul.

“But where are Chung Myung and Chung Hwa?”

“They haven’t been coming to training much lately, right?”

“Yes.”

Since the third-class disciples had become more self-motivated, Chung Myung and Chung Hwa hadn’t joined their training sessions as often.

“Well, Chung Hwa makes sense since he’s been training on his own for a long time, but Chung Myung…?”

“It’s not like he’s sleeping. He wakes up before anyone else. So where is he even going?”

“How should we know? Isn’t Chung Myung the busiest person in Mount Hua right now, aside from Chung Hwa?”

“… Yeah.”

That was true.

After a series of events, Mount Hua had been revived. Visitors, who had never even thought of coming to Mount Hua before, now began to frequent the sect. The businesses recovered, and the sect was steadily earning money again.

In the meantime, Mount Hua was being renovated, with laborers constantly coming and going.

Chung Myung was constantly traveling back and forth between the Eunha Guild and Mount Hua, while Chung Hwa was running around to Weinan, Hanzhong, Jinan, and Mount Huai—besides his work with the Eunha Guild.

—

Later that day...

“Chung Myung-ah, teach me the Mount Hua Techniques,” Chung Hwa said bluntly.

Chung Myung looked up from his work and raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Why the sudden request?”

“Because I want to learn.”

Chung Myung smirked. “Do you think it'll be easy?”

“No, but—if we want to make Mount Hua the best, we need to master the techniques, right? And you’re the only one who knows Mount Hua’s techniques best, after all.”

Chung Myung couldn’t argue with that. “Fine, but don’t cry to me when you can’t do it.”

Chung Hwa smirked back. “Of course.”

Chung Myung glanced at him, his usual smug expression softening slightly. “Alright then. Let’s see if you can handle it.”

Chung Hwa’s eyes glinted with determination as he grinned. “I will. Teach me everything.”

“Fine,” Chung Myung said, leaning back. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

But the next moment Chung Myung seems like he remembered something, “Ah, Sahyung this morning I met a woman from the second grade-disciples”

Chapter Text

“What’s with this atmosphere?”

Chung Myung tilted his head as he observed the disciples eating their meal. It was the first time after he thoroughly beat everyone that such a dark and gloomy air hung over the sect. He never thought he'd see this again, which was why he was confused.

“You’re here?”

Yun Jong waved at him and motioned for him to sit down.

Chung Myung took his meal and walked over to join Yun Jong and Jo Gul at their table. As soon as he sat down, he immediately asked, “What’s with this mood?”

“… Our seniors are back.”

“The Baek bastards?”

“Oh? You know them?”

“… Of course, I do, you idiot”

‘I’ve lived my whole life in Mount Hua! How could I not know them?’ Chung Myung thought.

“Anyway, so what? What’s the big deal about them coming back?”

“First of all, don’t call the Baek disciples ‘Baek’. It’ll cause trouble if they hear you say that. We might get scolded too.”

“Me? Or you?”

“… Ah, I need to think about that.”

Yun Jong gave a wry smile as he tried to dodge the question.

“The seniors have been in closed-door training for some time, away from Mount Hua. Their training centers weren’t well maintained in the past, so they couldn’t do any large-scale closed-door training here.”

“So, they went to another sect to train?”

“… Not exactly. I don’t think they went just anywhere.”

“Anyway, so what? What about them is making these kids so gloomy? Do they have bad personalities? Do they bully and beat the other disciples?”

“Unlike someone else, the seniors don’t beat us.”

“I wonder who that ‘someone else’ you’re referring to is,” Chung Myung said, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“… Let’s move on.”

Yun Jong was flustered when Chung Myung called him out, but Jo Gul quickly took the lead to change the subject.

“It’s because of the conference.”

“What? Isn’t a conference just for meetings?”

“No, this is the Mount Hua and Southern Edge Sect’s conference.”

“What’s that?”

Jo Gul sighed dramatically.

“Once in a while, the two sects come together. Every two years, we have a competition to compare each sect’s achievements against one another.”

“Ah, I think I’ve heard about this somewhere… When did this start?”

“Don’t know. I just know it’s been happening for a long time.”

Yun Jong added, “I heard the first conference was set to occur once every five years. Back then, the goal was to foster friendship between both sects. That changed over time, and now it’s become an event where the second and third-class disciples get together and compete in the name of their sects.”

“Compete?” Chung Myung raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t say ‘compete’,” Yun Jong said with a sigh. “It’s really just about getting beaten one-sidedly.”

“Even now, I can still feel the pain from where I got hit.”

“How can we survive again this time? After what happened last time, even the seniors went into closed-door training for our sake. This is crazy.”

Looking around, Chung Myung sighed and nodded knowingly.

“Ah. So, because the elders can’t fight without causing a problem, they pushed the fighting onto the second and third-class disciples? And we’ve been getting beaten all this time?”

“Exactly. To avoid repeating the humiliation from before, the seniors went into closed training and just got back. In other words, the conference is almost here.”

“Is that so?”

Chung Myung’s lips curled into a smile.

“Well, we’re going to compete with the Southern Edge sect, huh?”

The Southern Edge sect?

That one?

Whether he wanted to or not, everything lately just made Chung Myung hate the Southern Edge Sect even more.

In the past, there had been some pity for them, but after learning that they had copied Mount Hua’s sword techniques, Chung Myung couldn’t even sleep properly.

“Competition…” Chung Myung muttered, clenching his fist.

In the past, such things never happened. At that time, Mount Hua was the best, and the Southern Edge Sect was nothing more than a small annoyance. Now that Mount Hua was weak, those bastards were trying to use this so-called “friendly competition” to promote their strength?

Chung Myung snorted.

“‘A friendly meeting with Mount Hua?’” His eyes shone with an almost dangerous glint. “No matter how pathetic Mount Hua has become, it’s still my sect. Only I have the right to destroy it, not some other sect.”

“And those second-class bastards!” He added, his voice growing louder.

“Chung Myung, please. They are seniors. Just call them ‘seniors.’ Please,” Yun Jong pleaded, worried about the tension growing in the air.

“Fine. Then those senior bastards!” Chung Myung grinned wickedly.

“Do you think they can win?” Yun Jong asked, clearly skeptical.

“… That’s a bit…”

Yun Jong didn’t have a ready answer. Closed-door training was supposed to address the disciples’ weaknesses, but it was impossible to know how much they had improved. Despite their best efforts, victory still seemed like a distant dream.

“Then.” Chung Myung gritted his teeth. “Then we need to win!”

“What?”

“Sahyungs!” Chung Myung raised his voice, eyes burning with determination. “Are you ready to do anything to win? Even take poison!? Or break your limbs!? If you can do anything to beat those bastards and make Mount Hua shine, then you are all prepared to die, right!”

“W-wait, that doesn’t sound right…”

“Don’t worry! I’ll make sure we win! I’ll turn you all into the best!”

“Well, he never really followed the Tao path, did he?” Jo Gul muttered under his breath.

‘Just go to the Green Forest Mountain and become one of their bandits already,’ he thought. ‘Why is he even here?’

“Well, this is a mountain too,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“What’s all this about ‘winning’?” A voice interrupted from the entrance.

Chung Myung turned his head to see Chung Hwa, who had just returned from his travels to Yan’an.

“Ah, Sahyung, it seems like there’s going to be a competition between Mount Hua and the Southern Edge Sect soon,” Chung Myung said with a devilish grin.

“Competition? I don’t remember being around for that,” Chung Hwa said, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“Right, you only joined the sect not long after the last competition ended, and then the seniors went into closed-door training,” Yun Jong recalled, nodding his head.

“Right, I remember now,” Chung Hwa said, narrowing his eyes. “Last time—two years ago—the Southern Edge Sect won with a straight 20 wins, didn’t they?”

At the mention of the Southern Edge Sect’s victory, the mood among the third-class disciples immediately grew gloomier.

“Well, looks like we’ll have to win this time, no matter what,” Chung Myung declared with confidence, raising his fist in the air. “We’ll show them what Mount Hua is really capable of!”

—

Chung Hwa sat cross-legged on a moss-covered stone, deep within the tranquil woods on the slopes of Mount Hua.

He held a small, white pill between his fingers, the Plum Blossom Pellet given to him by Chung Myung. The pill was smooth and perfectly round, almost glowing with a subtle inner light. The faint scent of the plum blossoms lingered, calming his mind as he gazed at it thoughtfully.

Chung Hwa had always been careful with his intake of such medicine. His control over Qi was exceptional, and he had learned to carefully regulate every aspect of his body. However, this pill wasn’t like the typical herbs or elixirs he consumed. It was something rare—something valuable. The gentle aura emanating from the pill told him that it wasn’t simply for healing. It was something more.

“Chung Myung’s giving me one of these?” Chung Hwa mused softly, letting a slight chuckle escape his lips. “He’s never one to share his treasures easily.”

He tilted his head, looking at the pill one more time. It wasn’t the first time he’d come across these pills. He had heard of them—the famous Plum Blossom Pellets from Mount Hua—but this was his first time experiencing them for himself.

The mountain was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds. Chung Hwa took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to center himself. The air was crisp and clean, and he felt a sense of peace here, far from the noisy hustle of the sect.

Placing the pill on his tongue, he swallowed it without hesitation. Immediately, a wave of warmth spread through his body, the pill dissolving in his mouth almost as if it had never been there. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn’t the usual sharpness of medicinal herbs—it was smooth, delicate, and surprisingly gentle.

A surge of Qi began to pulse within him, a familiar yet powerful feeling. His control over his own energy was instinctive, and he quickly began to guide the flow, directing it with precision through his meridians. As the energy spread through his body, he could feel his internal strength solidifying, refining with every passing second.

His Qi was already powerful, but this—it felt like a new layer of vitality had been added to his core.

For a moment, he could see the swirling energy in his mind’s eye, flowing like water through his body. He focused, carefully guiding it into his dantian, where it began to settle, swirling and collecting in the center of his being. The pure Qi settled like a quiet storm, circling within his body, deep and strong.

Chung Hwa’s lips curled into a slight smile as he felt the power rise inside him. “So, this is what it feels like…” he whispered to himself, marveling at the steady increase in strength. The Plum Blossom Pellet had done more than just replenish his Qi—it had enhanced it, honed it.

He opened his eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed sharper, more defined. The trees, the leaves, the distant mountains—they all looked brighter, clearer, as though his senses had been heightened. His body felt lighter, but also more grounded, as if his connection to the earth had deepened.

Reaching for a small pouch at his side, he pulled out another pellet, admiring its flawless surface. He had already felt the change from the first pill, but could he really push himself even further? The thought teased at the edges of his mind.

He was aware of the dangers of overextending himself. Too much Qi, too quickly, could be disastrous. But with his experience and his unparalleled control, he felt confident that he could push his limits just a bit further—enough to feel the true depths of the pill’s power.

Chung Hwa’s gaze lifted toward the distant peaks of Mount Hua, where the wind howled and the clouds rolled like waves across the sky. A new surge of determination filled his chest. There was still much to be done, and this strength would be essential in the coming trials.

“Let’s see how much further I can go,” he murmured, a resolute glint flashing in his eyes.

He popped the second pill into his mouth, this time savoring the warmth as it melted away, its potent Qi starting to take effect. The energy began to circulate once again, but this time, it felt different. It was like a river running through his body, a river that had only just begun to overflow.

His breathing slowed as his Qi moved faster, more freely, through his meridians. His focus intensified, guiding the flow with absolute precision. Slowly, the second surge of Qi merged with the first, strengthening his core and allowing him to break through the mental barriers he had previously placed around his limits.

A soft exhale escaped his lips as the final burst of energy settled within him, and the air around him seemed to shimmer with newfound vitality. His senses expanded, as though he could feel every leaf on every tree, every breath of wind that brushed past.

Chung Hwa smiled, satisfied. “Perfect.”

‘I won’t be surprised if my Qi is far more expansive and purer than most elders’ Chung Hwa smirked.

Chapter Text

Days passed in a blur of pain, sweat, and steel.

The third-class disciples of Mount Hua lived a life of torment under the watchful gaze of Chung Myung. Every morning, without fail, they were subjected to brutal training that bordered on torture. Muscles screamed, bones ached, and backs bent under the weight of boulders the size of grown men—but none dared to complain. Not when Chung Myung’s presence loomed like a mountain above them.

But compared to the madness of their daily training, what took place between Chung Myung and Chung Hwa was on an entirely different level.

At the break of dawn and again at sunset, long before or after the others awoke or went to bed, the two could be found in one of Mount Hua’s more secluded training grounds. There, amidst the swirling morning mists or the golden hue of dusk, the clash of swords echoed like a sacred hymn.

And every time, without exception, Chung Myung lost.

Though he grumbled and cursed under his breath, Chung Myung’s eyes sparkled with something bordering on joy. He hadn’t felt this kind of challenge in a long, long time. And despite his losses, he didn’t hold back even once. His blows were sharp, fast, merciless—each a testament to his incredible skill and deep mastery.

Chung Hwa accepted them all.

If the third-class disciples were made to do push-ups with boulders the size of an average person strapped to their backs, then Chung Myung and Chung Hwa each trained with boulders nearly three times as large, their bodies trembling from exertion, but their eyes never wavering.

There was no hesitation in their steps. No wasted movements in their spars. Each swing of their swords carried intent—sometimes heavy like an avalanche, other times light like falling petals.

During the day, when not sparring, Chung Myung personally guided Chung Hwa in the techniques he had once taken for granted.

“The Six Elements Sword Technique is the foundation,” Chung Myung explained one morning as the sun crested over the peaks. “It’s boring, repetitive, and every disciple hates it… but only when your foundation is flawless can you wield the blade like it’s an extension of yourself.”

To most disciples, the Six Elements Sword Technique was a chore to be memorized and regurgitated. But not to Chung Hwa.

He absorbed each movement like water into dry earth, replicating every motion with practiced grace, then refining them again and again until even Chung Myung begrudgingly nodded in approval.

But that wasn’t the only thing he was being taught.

Once satisfied with Chung Hwa’s mastery of the basics, Chung Myung shifted his focus.

“Now this,” he said, handing over an ancient scroll, “is the Sword Technique of the Seven Sages. It’s advanced. Second-class disciples don’t even dream of touching this until they've perfected every form of the 24 Movement Plum Blossom Sword.”

“Then why are you giving it to me now?” Chung Hwa asked.

Chung Myung grinned. “Because you're not ‘most disciples.’”

The 24 Movement Plum Blossom Sword became their main focus, with each technique drilled into muscle and memory until they flowed like wind through branches. And on top of that, the Seven Sages Sword Technique layered complexity onto perfection—requiring a calm mind, a steady heart, and hands that knew both death and mercy.

Yet, even with the grueling routine and relentless sparring, Chung Hwa never once complained.

After every session, no matter how battered or exhausted he was, he would sit quietly in the woods, surrounded by the scent of pine and the rustling of leaves, and recover with a pellet or two.

But today was different.

After their morning training, just as Chung Hwa was preparing to meditate, he found himself unceremoniously dragged down the mountain.

“Where are we going?” he asked, still catching his breath.

“Hua-Um,” Chung Myung replied with a grin that didn’t bode well for his wallet. “The restaurant I always goes to has a new food that's why”

“And why am I coming?”

“You think I want to eat alone? Besides,” he said, tossing a small vial of Plum Blossom Pellets into Chung Hwa’s hands, “those things taste better after a good meal.”

—

“Here!”

As the restaurant door flung open, a cheerful voice echoed in the air. The moment the owner looked up and saw who had arrived, a wide grin split across his face.

“Oh, young master! You’re here again. Come this way, come this way. We’ll guide you to your usual seat.”

Right behind Chung Myung, dressed in a plain robe with his signature high ponytail swaying behind him, was Chung Hwa, who raised a brow.

“Is this how you always walk into restaurants? Like you own the place?”

“I basically do.” Chung Myung shrugged, walking confidently toward the window seat as if it belonged to him.

The owner laughed heartily. “Hahaha! Why would it be a problem? Thanks to your frequent visits, business is booming. Life’s been easier with you coming by.”

Chung Hwa leaned in slightly and whispered, “Are you bribing the restaurant with your presence?”

“I’m giving them the privilege of my company,” Chung Myung said with a completely straight face.

Chung Hwa blinked. “...You’re unbelievable.”

They were soon seated by the window, the view of Hua-Um bustling with life as the afternoon sun filtered in. A cold wet towel was immediately handed to them.

“Wait just a moment more and I’ll bring the chilled alcohol and your usual dishes. Anything new you’d like to try today?”

“Just bring whatever you recommend,” Chung Myung replied, already relaxing into his seat.

The owner nodded and rushed toward the kitchen.

"Tch. I don’t want the best, I want the most delicious, you sly bastard," Chung Myung whispered, shaking his head.

Chung Hwa gave him a look. “Then why didn’t you just say so?”

“It’s a matter of pride. If I say that, it means he wins.”

Before Chung Hwa could reply, the owner returned with two bottles of chilled alcohol and set them down with a flourish.

“Here you are!”

“Much appreciated.”

Without wasting time, Chung Myung popped open a bottle and poured two cups—one for himself and one for Chung Hwa.

From the sound of the alcohol hitting the ceramic to the way he lifted the cup with practiced ease, Chung Myung looked at peace.

Chung Hwa, meanwhile, stared at the cup skeptically. “You know, we’re technically third-class disciples. We shouldn’t be drinking.”

Chung Myung took a slow sip, then exhaled with deep satisfaction. “Taoists are supposed to go with the flow of life, right? So why the hell are there so many stupid restrictions?”

He glanced at the glass again and sighed. “People live for this taste.”

“You’re such a bad influence,” Chung Hwa muttered, but he took a sip anyway.

His eyes widened slightly. “...This is good.”

“Exactly!” Chung Myung grinned, raising his cup for a toast. “To being bad influences.”

Chung Hwa clinked his glass lazily against Chung Myung’s. “To living while we still can.”

They both drank in silence for a moment. The peaceful clink of glasses, the warmth of alcohol, the hum of conversation around them—it all felt strangely grounding.

“It’s not the same as before,” Chung Myung muttered, eyes fixed on his cup.

Chung Hwa looked over at him.

“I used to drink in secret, hiding from a nagging Sahyung who lectured me about moderation,” Chung Myung said, chuckling to himself. “Back then, drinking a single cup felt like a rebellion.”

“You miss him?” Chung Hwa asked softly.

Chung Myung didn’t answer right away.

“I never missed anyone in my past life. Not really. But now...” He shook his head and smiled bitterly. “Tch. If they saw me getting sentimental over a cup of booze, they’d die laughing.”

Chung Hwa looked down at his cup, eyes calm. “Maybe. Or maybe they’d be glad you still remember.”

Just then, the food arrived.

“Now, here is the leopard fish skin, and here is the pig feet fry,” the owner announced proudly, placing the dishes down in front of them.

Chung Myung’s face lit up. “What about the pork belly?”

“It’s on the way!”

“Excellent.”

Chung Hwa picked up his chopsticks and eyed the food. “Leopard fish skin made with oyster, pork, and jellyfish... and this one has onion and pork feet? Shaanxi food?”

“You’ve got a good eye.” Chung Myung took a bite and groaned. “This is paradise.”

They dug in with gusto, talking between bites.

“I gotta say, Sahyung,” Chung Myung said with his mouth full, “for a reincarnated old man, you’ve got surprisingly refined tastes.”

“And for a walking disaster, you’ve got surprisingly good recommendations.”

“You’re welcome.”

As they laughed and ate, the door to the restaurant opened again, and a group of men walked in.

“Welcome!” the owner called out cheerfully, rushing to greet them.

Chung Myung didn’t even look up at first, too focused on gnawing on a pork rib. But something in the newcomers’ conversation made him pause.

“We finally get to eat real food again.”

“No more fasting pills! And we get to see Mount Hua soon.”

“We should’ve gone up first to greet the elders, but they’ll understand this detour.”

Chung Myung slowly turned his head.

The group was clad in black uniforms embroidered with plum blossoms—Mount Hua disciples.

More specifically, the Baek disciples.

“Ah, crap,” he muttered under his breath.

Chung Hwa glanced over at the group, then back at Chung Myung. “Friends of yours?”

“Nope. Never seen them before.”

“They’re from Mount Hua.”

“Yeah, and we’re not.”

Chung Hwa raised a brow. “We are from Mount Hua.”

“Not right now, we’re not,” Chung Myung whispered sharply, subtly adjusting his outer robe to hide any identifying marks. “You want to deal with a bunch of uptight Baek disciples while drinking pork belly and booze?”

Chung Hwa smirked. “Fair point.”

“Just don’t talk too loud. Let’s eat and get out of here before someone starts asking questions.”

One of the newcomers looked around and asked, “Where is Samae Yu?”

Chung Hwa sipped his drink. “Think they’re looking for someone?”

“Yep. And I don’t want them to look at us.”

“Too late,” Chung Hwa said as one of the disciples turned their head, squinting toward them.

Chung Myung groaned and reached for the alcohol. “I knew I should’ve eaten in the kitchen.”

“I think she went up Mount Hua first.”

“Didn’t we decide to meet in Hua-Um?”

“When did Samae Yu ever listen to us?”

“Hm. Then the masters might already know that we’re here.”

“It’s fine. Everyone knows that Samae Yu is unique.”

“Then we’re lucky.”

As the young man in the center placed an order for food and alcohol, Chung Myung clicked his tongue.

“Tsk. Look at these little punks,” he muttered.

Chung Hwa, seated across from him, raised a brow as he leisurely rolled up his sleeves. “You’re calling them punks, but aren’t you still technically younger than them now?”

“You little—!”

Chung Myung glared, then scoffed and downed a glass of alcohol. “I’m not talking about age. I’m talking about mental age. I’ve lived longer than them by decades.”

“And yet here you are, sulking because your juniors are acting like adults.”

“They’re second-class disciples!” Chung Myung pointed dramatically with his chopsticks. “Drinking in the middle of Hua-Um, in full uniform? Hah! If it were the old days, the Sect Leader himself would’ve thrown them off the mountain!”

Chung Hwa calmly placed a piece of jellyfish pork skin onto Chung Myung’s bowl. “Relax. They're just blowing off some steam. And besides, you’re drinking too.”

“That’s different,” Chung Myung grumbled. “I drink discreetly.”

“We walked in wearing robes, sat by the window, and ordered your favorite drink” Chung Hwa replied, expression flat. “We’re the opposite of discreet.”

“…Still different,” Chung Myung mumbled into his cup.

They fell quiet for a moment, enjoying the sizzling sound of pork belly being grilled nearby and the general warmth of the tavern.

Then, the group at the next table spoke again.

“Everyone worked hard and overcame the training really well.”

“Who among us could say they’ve suffered more than Sahyung? We just followed you.”

“Right. Sahyung had the most difficult time.”

Chung Myung squinted. “That one in the middle, that must be Baek Cheon. Great Sahyung of the Baek disciples.”

“He’s good-looking,” Chung Hwa commented, sipping from his cup. “Better skin than you, too.”

“Oi!”

Chung Hwa smirked and reached for another piece of meat. “He carries himself well. I can see why the others follow him.”

Chung Myung huffed, leaning back with a sour look. “I don’t like him.”

“Because he’s popular?”

“Because he’s too proper.”

“Mm.” Chung Hwa nodded slowly. “Sounds familiar.”

“…You little brat.”

They both turned quiet again as Baek Cheon continued, his voice calm but passionate.

“We’ve done our best. We made it through that arduous training and constantly beat ourselves up. Even if we don’t win, isn’t it true that we’ve made commendable progress in this time?”

“Don’t get too hung up on winning or losing. We’re in this for the long game. If we lose our eyes in the present, we’ll never be able to see the future.”

“…He’s not wrong,” Chung Hwa said softly, looking into his cup.

“I hate how reasonable he sounds,” Chung Myung muttered.

Then Baek Cheon added, “However, I do want to win.”

And that was when Chung Myung scoffed—loudly.

“Puah!”

The sound drew the attention of the entire table next to them.

Six pairs of eyes turned to look.

Chung Hwa slowly reached for a napkin and dabbed his lips. “You just couldn’t hold it in, could you?”

“It just slipped!” Chung Myung hissed in a whisper. “Who talks like that?! What is he, the main character of a storybook?!”

“Maybe he is”

“Not helping!”

“Puah! Ugh! Cough! Cough! Puah!”

Chung Myung began a fake coughing fit, trying to salvage the situation. It would’ve worked—if he hadn’t looked so smug doing it.

Baek Cheon stood up, brows furrowed, and addressed them. “Young men. I don’t believe we’ve seen you around Hua-Um before. May I ask who you are and what family you belong to?”

“…Why does this feel like we’ve been caught sneaking into the wine cellar?” Chung Myung mumbled.

Chung Hwa calmly picked up a lettuce wrap and said without looking up, “We’re nobodies.”

Chung Myung cleared his throat. “That’s right. Just two countryside nobodies who like drinking and eavesdropping.”

“…You’re not helping our case.”

“I wasn't trying to.”

Baek Cheon narrowed his eyes.

—

Baek Cheon narrowed his eyes.

‘Who are these kids?’

They were nothing short of absurd.

From the moment he entered the place, he felt something was off. And now that he looked more closely, he realized why.

Why were there two children—one barely looking fifteen, and the other maybe a little older—ordering trays full of expensive food and alcohol without batting an eye?

Of course, it wasn’t entirely impossible.

There were children of nobles or wealthy merchants who could enjoy such luxuries. But this was Hua-Um. Not the capital, not a bustling city of elites.

And even if those kinds of people were around, their faces wouldn’t be unfamiliar.

So who were these two children? One drinking alone and the other calmly brewing tea, like a master of his own world?

“Cough.”

The child with the alcohol bottle coughed and waved lazily.

“I’m just a traveler. Don’t mind us. Go ahead and enjoy your meal.”

“A traveler…”

Baek Cheon’s eyes softened.

It made sense. It wasn’t strange for travelers to pass through here.

“Then, since fate brought us together, let’s introduce ourselves. I’m Baek Cheon, second-class disciple of the Great Mount Hua Sect.”

Chung Myung grunted softly, pulling his sleeve to half-cover his face.

‘Persistent bastard.’

He couldn’t punch him in the face or run away now. The sect leader would blow up, Un Geom might chase him down with a blade, and the elders—who were just starting to soften—would give him hell.

He had to be smart about this.

“I really don’t have a name worth offering…”

“Is it not a bit ungentlemanly to cover your face while speaking?”

‘Gentleman, my foot.’

Chung Myung was growing increasingly irritated.

And just when things couldn’t get worse…

Clink.

A cup was placed gently on the table.

“Pardon me,” the second child—who had been quietly watching—finally spoke with a composed and clear tone. “This is my younger cousin. He tends to be shy around strangers. Please forgive his rudeness.”

Baek Cheon turned to him, and for a moment, was caught off guard by the contrast between the two. Where the first was all chaotic, the second was poised, elegant even, with a polite smile that could pass in noble courts.

“And you are?”

“My name is Chung Hwa.”

Unlike the gruff younger one, Chung Hwa’s voice was like smooth silk. Calm. Polished.

“A pleasure to meet a disciple of Mount Hua. We’re travelers from the west, passing through on a pilgrimage.”

“Pilgrimage?”

“Yes,” Chung Hwa nodded. “We came to visit the sacred sites of martial arts. My cousin insists that even the most profound of warriors should be humbled by history.”

Baek Cheon blinked. The whole thing sounded plausible.

Too plausible.

“You don’t seem to be ordinary pilgrims.”

“Ah, no, not at all,” Chung Hwa replied, sipping his tea. “We’re quite ordinary. But my uncle is a physician, and my cousin’s father was a minor military official. We were entrusted with a small sum for this journey.”

“That explains… the alcohol?”

Chung Myung perked up and waved the bottle like a flag.

“It’s medicinal!”

“…Huh?”

“I caught a chill climbing up the mountain earlier. A bit of alcohol burns the cold right out.”

‘Now he’s saying it’s for medicine?’

Baek Cheon looked at the two of them—one playing drunk scholar, the other acting like some refined traveling monk—and didn’t know what to make of it.

“Then why cover your face?”

Chung Myung sighed, dramatically.

“I’ve been told I’m too pretty. Women get distracted.”

Baek Cheon’s expression twitched.

Chung Hwa lightly placed a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “He’s joking. Please don’t take it seriously.”

Chung Myung looked pleased with himself as he grabbed the bottle and stood up.

“Well then. Since we’ve introduced ourselves, we’ll take our leave.”

“Hold on.”

“We’ll talk next time we meet.”

He bowed politely, his face half-covered. “Farewell, sir of Mount Hua.”

“Young man. I’d like to speak a bit longer—”

“I’m sorry. I have no interest in men.”

Baek Cheon reached to grab his robe.

Swoosh.

Chung Myung spun and slipped away like mist.

“Huh?”

“Take care!”

And with that, he jumped out the window.

Baek Cheon stared at the open window, stunned.

‘He dodged it?’

He had used Grasping Joint Lock. Not at its peak, but enough to catch someone untrained.

But the boy avoided it cleanly.

“Sahyung. Why didn’t you catch him?”

“… What?”

“Didn’t you let him go?”

Baek Cheon looked awkward.

“…It didn’t seem right to force a child.”

“As expected of Sahyung!”

He laughed nervously.

‘There’s no way he avoided that. I must be tired. That’s all.’

He took a deep breath and returned to his seat, but his smile didn’t return fully.

Outside, Chung Myung grumbled, kicking a rock.

“Rotten timing.”

He could still taste the food he didn’t get to eat. What a waste!

At least he saved the alcohol.

He took a swig from the bottle as he climbed up.

“Ugh. So annoying.”

He turned to look behind him.

“…That Baek Cheon guy’s going to be a pain.”

“Maybe,” said a voice beside him.

Chung Myung glanced over.

Chung Hwa walked calmly beside him, hands behind his back like a gentle scholar.

“I covered for you as best I could.”

“You did. That whole ‘pilgrimage’ thing was a nice touch.”

“You’re lucky I’m good at making stories.”

“I’m good too!”

“Yelling ‘it’s medicinal’ isn’t exactly convincing.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“…Debatable.”

The two of them climbed in silence.

“Do you think he bought it?” Chung Myung asked.

“For now,” Chung Hwa replied. “But he’ll keep digging.”

“Tch.”

“You know, you could’ve just acted normal.”

“Have you met me?”

“…Fair.”

Back on Mount Hua, the sun was setting.

“Sajae! The second-class disciples are back!”

Jo Gul ran over to the dorms. He pushed open the door to Chung Hwa’s room.

“Are you ready?”

Chung Hwa sat at the desk, calmly writing something in a small notebook.

“I’ve been ready for a while.”

“Chung Myung!”

Jo Gul opened the next door—

“Ugh…!”

—and found Chung Myung sprawled on the bed, mouth open, mumbling.

“Is he drunk?!”

Jo Gul ran over and shook him.

“Chung Myung! You drunk bastard—ah, no, Sajae! Wake up! The Sasuks are back!”

Chung Myung opened one eye. “Ahh. I just… rested a bit.”

“You stink of alcohol!”

Chung Myung exhaled slightly and released some qi.

“…Huh?”

The smell disappeared.

“Where did the alcohol smell go?”

“What alcohol?”

“You were reeking just a second ago!”

“I think you’re imagining things, Sahyung. We are Taoists. What would we do with alcohol?”

Jo Gul blinked.

“…This feels so wrong.”

“Let’s go before we’re late.”

They joined the other third-class disciples at the gate.

The second-class disciples soon returned, dressed in dark robes.

Everyone applauded.

Everyone but two.

Chung Myung yawned.

Chung Hwa smiled faintly, but his eyes remained calm, observing.

As Baek Cheon passed, accepting greetings, he suddenly stopped.

His eyes locked onto someone.

No, two people.

‘Those kids-'

He approached slowly, stopping in front of them.

He looked directly at Chung Myung, his eyes narrowing.

“By any chance…”

Then, to Chung Hwa.

“…Or perhaps, you?”

Chung Hwa bowed politely, “Have we… met before?”

Baek Cheon blinked and looked at Chung Myung.

“…You look familiar.”

Chung Myung smiled.

“I get that a lot.”

Baek Cheon’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure we’ll talk again.”

Chung Hwa’s smile didn’t falter.

“I look forward to it.”

Chung Myung turned his head slightly.

‘Talk again? Only if you can catch me, you persistent punk.’

Chapter Text

Baek Cheon tilted his head slightly.

“That’s strange. I feel like I’ve seen your faces before. When did you two join us?”

The answer came not from Chung Myung or Chung Hwa, but from Yun Jong.

“Sasuk, these two entered while you and the others were away from Mount Hua. You wouldn’t have met them.”

“Is that so? I see.”

Baek Cheon smiled warmly.

“You two seem close. As Great Sahyung, it’s good to see you taking care of the younger ones. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, Sasuk,” Yun Jong replied, his tone a little awkward. Baek Cheon seemed to notice something and nodded.

“It feels like fate. This is our first meeting, yet you both seem oddly familiar. I get the feeling we’ll be seeing each other often. What are your names?”

“Chung Myung.”

“Chung Hwa.”

At the mention of Chung Hwa’s name Baek Cheon smiled.

“I’m Baek Cheon. Remember my name.”

Just then, a firm voice rang out.

“How can you stand there chatting when the Sect Leader is waiting!?”

“Ah! I’m coming!”

Baek Cheon quickly bowed toward Un Geom and hurried off to join his fellow disciples.

Jo Gul leaned in close to whisper.

“Have you met Baek Cheon sasuk before?”

“No,” Chung Myung answered flatly. Even if he had, the answer would still be no.

Yun Jong looked toward Chung Hwa.

“Then did you—?”

“No, I’ve never met him,” Chung Hwa replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sweat rolled down Yun Jong’s temple. “I... see.”

“Be careful,” Jo Gul advised. “Baek Cheon sasuk is a second-class disciple. He’s a great man.”

“Great?” Chung Myung repeated, sounding unconvinced.

“Yes,” Yun Jong added. “He’s considered Mount Hua’s rising star. A man said to have the potential to restore the sect.”

“Savior of Mount Hua, huh?” Chung Hwa murmured with a soft scoff.

“Wait,” Chung Myung said, turning to Jo Gul, “wasn’t you supposed to be the genius of the sect?”

“What are you saying!? Someone might hear you!” Jo Gul’s face turned bright red. “I-I’m nothing compared to Baek Cheon sasuk.”

“Yes, yes,” Chung Myung replied. “Loser mentality. Good for staying humble.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, Sasuk.”

The two looked ahead at Baek Cheon, who was walking ahead with perfect posture.

‘A crane among hens,’ Chung Myung thought.

“He’s more like a frog,” Chung Hwa said bluntly.

“F-F-Frog!? You can’t say that about Baek Cheon sasuk! You’ll get in trouble!”

“Frog, huh? Pfft—maybe he does look like one,” Chung Myung snorted, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

He narrowed his eyes at Baek Cheon.

‘He has a flaw.’

He’d seen this kind of person before—polished on the outside but still just a young chick. A genius only by the lowered standards of this crumbling sect.

Yun Jong continued speaking.

“Baek Cheon sasuk’s sword techniques are said to have reached the pinnacle. The elders are pinning their hopes on him.”

“Hm.”

“He doesn’t look like a genius,” Chung Hwa mumbled under his breath, clearly audible to Chung Myung.

‘He’s right,’ Chung Myung thought. ‘In this ruined sect, he might look like a star. But compared to the Mount Hua of the past? He’s just a toddler.’

Still, among the second-class disciples, Baek Cheon was certainly the most prominent.

‘And that’s the annoying part.’

He remembered it all too well—being dragged around by elders, forced to learn every damn technique, and always being told he was the future of the sect.

But it was worth it.

A sect could fall or rise on the back of a single master. If Mount Hua didn’t produce someone strong and famous, its glory would vanish into dust.

“Don’t the Sasuks look strong?” one of the other disciples whispered.

“They’re so cool…”

Chung Myung rolled his eyes.

‘Are their eyes just for decoration?’

Fine, call them cool. People had strange tastes. But calling someone strong required more than posture and looks.

“If that Frog looks strong to third-class disciples, what does that make us?” Chung Hwa smirked.

Chung Myung choked on his own laughter. “Immortals. Obviously.”

While the two chuckled among themselves, someone sprinted into the second-class lineup from the sect’s inner grounds.

Chung Myung’s eyes narrowed.

‘Right, that one’s a Baek disciple too.’

Yu… something. He remembered her, mostly because their first meeting had been odd. Hopefully she hadn’t told anyone about that encounter.

“Is something wrong?” Chung Hwa asked, following his gaze.

“Ah, that woman—she’s the one I told you about before.”

Chung Hwa turned to the only woman in the Baek line.

Jo Gul grinned and nudged them.

“Oh, it’s your first time seeing senior Yu?”

“What?”

“Yu Iseol. Anyone who sees her is captivated—she’s that beautiful.”

“Sasuk.”

“Hm?”

“Do you have cinnamon powder?”

“Why would I have that?”

“I want to sprinkle it on my ears. Jo Gul-sahyung’s voice is causing internal bleeding.”

Chung Hwa said it so sincerely that Yun Jong snorted.

“It’s rare that we both agree on something,” he said. “I’ll get you some later.”

“Thank you.”

Jo Gul pouted. “What did I say wrong? She’s the most beautiful woman in Shaanxi!”

Chung Myung let out a deep sigh.

“You’re the best in Mount Hua, and she’s the most beautiful? To outsiders, it’ll sound like you two are a couple.”

“But it’s true!”

He pointed at Yu Iseol. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“Sigh…”

“Don’t even think about it though,” Jo Gul warned. “She’s already got Baek Cheon in her heart.”

“… Sasuk.”

“Yes?”

Chung Myung’s face darkened.

“If you spent as much time training as you did gossiping about other people’s love lives, you’d already be famous.”

“You can’t just stab people with truth like that…”

“Just stop talking.”

Chung Myung shook his head in disbelief.

Chung Hwa, barely suppressing his laughter, patted Chung Myung’s shoulder. “Ke-huhu.”

“Stop laughing, Sahyung…”

Just then, the second-class disciples stood in neat lines as Hyun Jong appeared, smiling.

“You’ve all worked hard. Training must’ve been difficult.”

Baek Cheon stepped forward.

“Sect Leader. It was nothing. Thanks to the sect’s support, we trained well.”

“And the results?”

“We’ve returned strong enough to laugh at our former selves.”

Hyun Jong nodded.

“Finance Head.”

“Yes, Sect Leader?” Hyung Young replied, looking sour.

“Our disciples have returned. Shouldn’t we celebrate?”

“Tsk. What nonsense—ah, of course. Yes, we should.”

Hyun Jong gave him a strange look.

‘He’s been weird since the Eunha Guild arrived…’

“Well, there’s food prepared in the dining hall.”

“Good.”

Hyun Jong looked to the disciples.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we’ll speak more later. Go get settled.”

“Actually, may I ask something?” Baek Cheon spoke up again.

“What is it?”

“The scenery has changed. What happened while we were away?”

Hyun Jong smiled faintly.

“Good things. Thanks to them, Mount Hua is being restored.”

It was a vague but confident answer.

“There will be time to explain everything slowly.”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

“Un Am.”

“Yes.”

“Please take care of our returning disciples.”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

Then, Hyun Jong turned.

“Chung Myung. Chung Hwa.”

“…”

Chung Myung sighed as if it were routine. Chung Hwa looked resigned.

‘Again?’ Chung Myung thought.

“There shouldn’t be anything to do today…”

“Yes, Sect Leader!” they both answered and stepped forward.

“Come to my room. We need to talk.”

“Again?” Chung Myung grumbled, while Chung Hwa nodded with a patient smile.

Baek Cheon blinked.

‘Again…?’

Did he just complain to the Sect Leader?

And the Sect Leader smiled at him!?

“Shall I prepare snacks?” Hyun Jong asked.

“Fine, I’m coming.”

“You’re so easily bribed, Sajil,” Chung Hwa chuckled.

“Shut it, Sahyung…”

As the Sect Leader led them away, Baek Cheon turned to Un Geom, eyes wide.

“Sasuk… just who are they?”

Un Geom only smiled.

“For your mental health… it’s best not to think about it.”

“What?”

“Especially for someone like you.”

Un Geom patted him on the shoulder and walked off.

“Unpack your bags. Don’t be late for dinner.”

“…Yes.”

But Baek Cheon’s gaze didn’t move. His eyes lingered on the retreating figures of the two boys walking with the Sect Leader.

“…Hmm.”

He narrowed his eyes with visible disapproval.

—

“S-Sahyung!”

“…”

“What is all this? Despite all the hard work we did, no one is praising us….”

Baek Cheon couldn’t find the words to respond despite someone talking to him. It was because he, too, was surprised.

Unexpectedly, there was a huge feast in front of them.

From the perspective of the secular world, it may be somewhat lacking to be called a feast. However, for Mount Hua, this seemed no different from what would be eaten by an emperor.

What’s more, that.

That! There was that!

“… isn’t that meat?”

“Uh.”

Baek Cheon rubbed his eyes.

In front of his eyes was certainly food that had been acquired by killing a living animal and carving its flesh.

How could a pure sect commit such an act?

“Where did the money come from?”

‘I want to know the same!’

Just where did Mount Hua even get such money? Where did the meat come from?

“W-wait. Sahyung. Come to think of it, the inside of this place has also changed. I thought it might just feel awkward because we’ve been gone for so long, but doesn’t it look shiny and clean?”

“… now that you mention it, yes.”

Baek Cheon looked around. The entire building might not be newly built, but it looked like it had been recently renovated. All the holes in the walls were covered, and the whole place seemed to be fixed cleanly.

“There are new looking halls, and now this place? There’s even meat on the table!”

“…”

“I can’t imagine what happened to Mount Hua while we were away. Unless some God of Wealth descended onto this place.”

Baek Cheon smiled.

God of Wealth? Mount Hua is a sect that the God of Wealth had abandoned.

If any sect could compete with the Beggars Union, it would be Mount Hua.

No, even they might be richer than Mount Hua. Just because the Beggars Union was a group of beggars didn’t mean that the sect itself was poor.

But for Mount Hua to have such wealth?

Why did it seem so out of place?

Baek Cheon lifted his head and slightly looked at Un Geom.

“Sasuk. This food?”

“This is food the finance head prepared to raise your spirits. Eat a lot.”

No, why is he speaking so casually about this?

Sasuk used to say that he would survive solely on grass, like a rabbit, for the sake of Mount Hua. Where did that Sasuk go, and when did he switch sides like this!?

Even stranger was the reaction of the third-class disciples.

The third-class disciples, who were there to congratulate the second-class disciples, didn’t show any surprise at the quality of food placed in front of them.

They just stared at the table sternly.

Baek Cheon listened to their conversation from the side.

“I’m tired of meat, isn’t there anything different? Fish or something else.”

“Crazy bastard, where will we find fish on the mountains? Do you need to be beaten with a fish to restore your senses?”

What the hell are those idiots talking about?

What? They are tired of meat?

Unable to understand the situation, Baek Cheon, who was frustrated, opened his mouth.

“No…”

“Ahem.”

“Hahahahahaha.”

“…”

He was about to open his mouth.

Baek Cheon turned his head to the side to shut the mouths of his mates.

‘Let’s just eat first.’

‘We have money, so we get to eat meat. I was sick of having those pills for the past year.’

Baek Cheon, who felt suppressed by the laughs of the others, opened his mouth.

“Is it alright to start eating, even though the elders and sect leader haven’t arrived yet?”

“Huh? Ah, I didn’t notice. Hold a moment.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Un Geom took his chopsticks and put a piece of meat in his mouth. That was the sign that the others could eat, and the Sahyungs frantically moved their chopsticks.

Papapak!

Food bounced into the air.

But there was nothing to worry about. The chopsticks caught everything in the air because it was precious meat that had to be treasured.

Baek Cheon closed his eyes upon seeing everyone’s behavior; he felt that he was staring deeply into the abyss.

It might look exaggerated to others, but this was a normal reaction. Mount Hua was the poorest sect in the world, and the disciples were the poorest people in the world.

They had only eaten food made with grains and a few nuts in all their time here. To say it politely, they served healthy meals. But truthfully, it was the cheapest diet that could be afforded.

Besides, thanks to their closed-door training, the second-class disciples only had fasting pills for the past year.

Some, like Baek Cheon, could purchase food with money when visiting family. However, most of the disciples hadn’t so much as smelled the scent of meat for years already.

Of course, they were losing control of themselves.

Baek Cheon looked around at the third-class disciples leisurely enjoying their meal. Despite the lively chatter and relaxed atmosphere, something about it felt… odd.

The food looked rich, well-prepared, and plentiful. Too plentiful.

He remembered the Mount Hua of old—where dried radish soup was a luxury and the scent of actual meat would send everyone into a frenzy. But these children were eating meat like it was just another day.

“Sasuk.”

Un Geom turned slightly, chopsticks in hand. “Hm? Does the food suit your taste?”

“It’s not that,” Baek Cheon said, brow furrowed. “It’s just… I don’t understand. What happened to Mount Hua while we were gone?”

Un Geom chuckled, calmly sipping from his cup.

“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t. From your perspective, things must look completely different now.”

“Then, what happened? The disciples, the finances, even the atmosphere—it’s all changed.”

Un Geom gave a dry laugh. “Too long of a story to tell over one meal, Baek Cheon. You’ll understand in time.”

“…Sasuk.”

“All you need to know,” Un Geom said with a smile, “is that a lucky stars rolled into Mount Hua.”

“Lucky stars?”

KWAANG!

The door suddenly slammed open with a loud bang.

The second-class disciples, caught mid-bite, flinched in surprise. Meat slipped from chopsticks, mouths paused mid-chew. Everyone turned to the entrance, expecting an elder.

But no elder came.

“Huh?”

‘What kind of elder looks that young?’

‘That’s not an elder! That’s that brat!’

The one who barged in with such flair was none other than Chung Myung, his brows furrowed deeply and his steps aggressive. Behind him entered the ever-calm Chung Hwa, hands tucked into his sleeves, lips curled into a faint smile.

“There’s space over here!” Jo Gul waved toward the center of the room.

Chung Myung gave a cursory bow toward Un Geom before storming toward the offered seat. Chung Hwa followed more respectfully, offering a smooth, practiced bow before sitting with elegance.

The disciples near the seat quietly moved to make room—without even being asked.

Baek Cheon’s sharp eyes caught that instantly.

‘They’re giving up their seats? For children?’

It might have been nothing if those two were polite, deferential types. But the third-class disciples Baek Cheon remembered were anything but docile. Violent, competitive, quick to get into scuffles—they only respected strength.

So, why?

There could be only one answer.

‘Those kids… They’ve subdued them all.’

Baek Cheon’s eyes narrowed.

The spot they sat in wasn’t just any spot—it was in the center of the group, with Yun Jong on one side and Jo Gul on the other.

Yun Jong, the Great Sahyung of the third-class disciples.

Jo Gul, the strongest of them.

‘They tamed both of them…?’

And Un Geom hadn’t even scolded them for that dramatic entrance. That alone told Baek Cheon everything he needed to know.

‘Even Un Geom Sasuk lets it slide? What the hell happened here…?’

Across from him, Chung Myung dropped onto his cushion with a huff.

“Ugh. That old man wants me to go to the Eunha Guild again!”

“…Again?” Yun Jong blinked.

“Yeah! What am I, a carrier pigeon? A glorified errand boy?”

“But you liked it at first,” Yun Jong teased with a smile.

“That was before I realized it’s always me! Do you know how many times I’ve been down to Hua-Um? My legs are about to fall off!”

Chung Myung grumbled as he grabbed a skewer of meat.

“Well, at least it’s not to Xi’an this time. That would’ve been a real death march.”

Jo Gul laughed. “You act like you don’t enjoy all the attention you get there.”

“I don’t!” Chung Myung barked, biting the meat aggressively. “They treat me like some weird prodigy. It’s annoying.”

Yun Jong smiled softly. “That’s because you are a weird prodigy.”

Baek Cheon’s eyes twitched.

‘That’s… affection? They’re teasing him gently? That brat?’

He glanced at Chung Hwa, who calmly poured himself tea and drank with elegant movements.

“And you, Chung Hwa?” Jo Gul asked, leaning toward him.

“Hm?” Chung Hwa blinked, then smiled. “The Sect Leader asked me to visit Yan’an again.”

“Yan’an?” Yun Jong asked. “That’s pretty far.”

“Not too bad,” Chung Hwa replied. “But he wants me to meet the merchant I treated before—his wife’s health is failing again.”

Jo Gul whistled. “You’re getting famous, huh?”

Chung Hwa gave a humble shrug. “It’s not fame if you’re just helping people, right?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully and added, “And then I need to drop by Jinan on the way back. Another patient… but that one’s just routine, beside that there's some project i started there.”

Yun Jong’s brows furrowed. “You have it harder than Chung Myung.”

“Perhaps,” Chung Hwa said, sipping his tea. “But it’s not too much trouble. I can sprint to Jinan in a day. What’s hard is managing the rest of it—making medicine, balancing the prices, not exhausting the stock of herbs…and taking care of that thing in Mount Tai"

He glanced down at his hands. “It’s easier to fight a man with a sword than to negotiate with a merchant.”

Everyone laughed softly at that.

Chung Myung shook his head. “You’re the only person who’d say something like that so seriously.”

Chung Hwa gave him a long look. “You should try it sometime. Who knows—you might actually learn something about money besides spending it.”

“I earn money, thank you very much!”

“You terrorize merchants into donating.”

“…It’s a valid business model.”

Baek Cheon was still staring.

‘Even Chung Hwa… has that same pull.’

He wasn’t loud or brash like Chung Myung, but he had presence—an unshakable calm that made people naturally follow him. A quiet authority.

Baek Cheon clicked his tongue.

‘I need to talk to both of them. This is… weird.’

Just then, a voice called out.

“Great Sahyung.”

Baek Cheon turned. “Hm?”

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Ah. Right.”

He picked up his chopsticks, but his eyes scanned the room once more.

“…Where’s Yu Samae?”

“Huh?” one disciple looked around. “She was here a while ago.”

“Yeah, I saw her before we came in.”

“Maybe she stepped out.”

The answers came without urgency. It was clear this wasn’t the first time she’d disappeared.

Baek Cheon frowned. “Shouldn’t we wait for her? This meal is a celebration for all of us.”

“Well…” someone said carefully, “even if we tried to find her, if she doesn’t want to be found…”

“She’ll disappear like a ghost,” added another.

Baek Cheon’s lips tightened.

“Still, we should at least try—”

CREAK.

The door opened slowly.

Everyone turned to look. A figure entered the room, bathed in golden afternoon sunlight.

It was Yu Iseol.

She scanned the room quietly, her eyes calm as ever. Her gaze swept past the second-class disciples—and landed on one person.

Baek Cheon smiled. “Samae, over here—”

But Yu Iseol didn’t respond.

Instead, she walked forward with graceful steps, ignoring Baek Cheon entirely.

Chung Hwa tilted his head, watching her with mild interest.

She stopped right in front of the table where Chung Myung sat, chewing on a skewer.

“Can I sit here?” she asked, eyes fixed on him.

A stunned silence fell over the room.

The second-class disciples were frozen, jaws dropped.

‘Did… did Yu Samae just talk to someone?’

‘No way!’

But the greater shock came from Chung Myung’s response.

He glanced at her, utterly unimpressed.

“No,” he said curtly. “Go sit somewhere else.”

Baek Cheon stood, lips parting in disbelief.

“…Did he just—”

Yu Iseol remained still. “…Then can we talk?”

Chung Myung didn’t even look up this time.

“I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.”

The room dropped to arctic levels of silence.

Every disciple, especially the second-class men, stared as if they’d witnessed an act of blasphemy.

Chung Hwa sighed, lightly swirling his tea. “You could be a little less harsh.”

“I could,” Chung Myung said without guilt. “But I won’t.”

Chung Hwa gave Yu Iseol a once-over. “Yu samae, do you need something?”

Baek Cheon, still frozen mid-bite, whispered, “What the hell is going on?”

Chapter Text

‘What the hell is going on here?’

Jo Gul couldn’t come to his senses.

It was the first time Jo Gul saw her from such a close distance; he wondered if there could be any disciple in Mount Hua who didn’t know of Yu Iseol.

It wasn’t because Jo Gul was a third-class disciple. He had never even heard of her having a friendly conversation with anyone. Despite being a disciple of Mount Hua, Yu Iseol was known to keep her distance from others.

But now, she was talking to Chung Myung right in front of him.

Chung Hwa, sitting quietly between Yun Jong and Chung Myung, raised a brow as he observed Yu Iseol. He didn’t say anything, but his hand gently reached toward the food tray in front of him, casually placing another piece of meat onto Chung Myung’s plate like this wasn’t his problem to solve.

Meanwhile, the piercing glares of the second-class disciples all stabbed into Chung Myung like razor-sharp daggers.

‘Wow, those eyes could really kill people.’

Well, it was all aimed at Chung Myung, who was right beside Jo Gul. But sitting next to him, it felt inevitable that he would be dragged into the crossfire.

‘Chung Myung, please!’

Be respectful, you bastard!

These are the second-class disciples; what is with that tone?

Despite all that, Chung Myung remained calm. No, he even looked slightly annoyed.

In an atmosphere that felt like something was about to happen, Yu Iseol whispered softly as if nothing was wrong.

“It’ll only be a minute.”

“I said I’m not interested.”

“But it really will just take a moment.”

“I said no! Don’t you get what I’m saying!?”

Watch the way you talk! Speak politely, you bastard!

Jo Gul ended up pressing on Chung Myung’s thigh without realizing it, causing Chung Myung to turn his head.

“What?”

“… Uh…”

You shouldn’t ask that!

Uh… he shouldn’t have asked that in front of his sasuks. He should understand what was happening.

Clicking his tongue, Chung Myung turned back to Yu Iseol.

“I have nothing to say or speak about with you.”

“But I have something to tell you.”

“I really don’t want to hear it.”

“It is fine, just one minute. Let’s go outside.”

“No need, can’t you see I’m eating?”

“Then, I’ll wait until you finish.”

The second-class disciples were on the verge of going crazy.

First, they had never seen Yu Iseol speak so much at once to a younger disciple. No, to be precise, they didn’t remember her ever talking this much to any of the second-class disciples either.

But, didn’t it seem like Yu Iseol was clinging onto this man?

Right. The second thing that made them agitated was the attitude of Chung Myung.

‘That crazy son of a bitch….!’

‘Nothing is going to happen now, right?’

‘Doesn’t that bastard have eyes?’

‘He has to be a true Taoist.’

Burning anger and subtle respect were poured onto Chung Myung.

As a Taoist who cultivates and walks the path of the Dao, the first thing one must do is stay away from worldly desires. However, Yu Iseol’s existence was one that destroyed that dedication. No matter how well-disciplined a person was, they had no choice but to listen and stray from their path if Yu Iseol made a request.

Anyone would, seeing her beautiful face and expression.

However, Chung Myung was openly complaining that Yu Iseol was annoying him. That was unimaginable for the second-class disciples.

“I said no! I have a lot of work to do. Find someone else.”

“I came here for you.”

“No, why would—”

“Ahem.”

Although it was low, it was a sound that spread widely after being imbued with qi.

Everyone turned their heads to see Baek Cheon, who steadily got up from his seat and smiled at Chung Myung.

“Chung Myung, was it?”

“Yes.”

A short answer.

But Baek Cheon wasn’t angry. In such a situation, showing anger meant that the opponent won.

“I understand that you’re tired from visiting the sect leader and taking on various tasks. You’re likely even doing work that I’m unaware of. However, since your senior is so kindly requesting your time, don’t you think you should hear what she has to say, regardless of how tired you may be?”

Baek Cheon spoke softly to Chung Myung. He thought that it would work out…

“Why?”

Baek Cheon’s hand trembled.

Did he hear wrong?

No? So why did he hear the word ‘why’?

Shocked, Baek Cheon looked at Chung Myung’s expression. Seeing that pouty, plainly irritated face, it didn’t seem like he heard it wrong.

Chung Hwa, still nibbling on a piece of pickled radish, gave Baek Cheon a side glance and then tilted his head toward Chung Myung with an unreadable expression.

Forcing the anger down to calm himself,

‘Be calm.’

If he got angry at a third-class disciple, it would reflect negatively on his character.

“Did you say ‘why’?”

“Yes.”

“There are many reasons. First of all, a person should have manners. There is also a rule which says that you need to respect those above you.”

“Ah, manners?”

As if he understood, Chung Myung nodded and looked at Yu Iseol.

“Senior.”

“Yes?”

“Apologize quickly. He’s saying that you aren’t behaving politely right now.”

“…?”

Yu Iseol raised a finger, pointing to herself.

“Yes. Apologize.”

“Me?”

“Ugh, you don’t seem to understand at all.”

Chung Myung sighed and explained.

“This is a party to celebrate the return of the second-class disciples. It’s rude to make use of this gathering to sort out your personal affairs and act individually.”

“Ah…”

As if that made sense, Yu Iseol nodded her head, stood from her seat, and bowed to Baek Cheon.

“I apologize, Sahyung. I didn’t think that far.”

“Ah, no, Samae. That’s not—”

Baek Cheon bit his lip.

Just why did it turn out like this?

“And,” Chung Myung added as he pointed his chopsticks toward Un Geom, “you should apologize to Sasuk, since you disturbed the flow of the celebration.”

“You’re right.”

Yu Iseol bowed again toward Un Geom.

“This disciple was short-sighted.”

Un Geom smiled calmly.

“It is fine now that you understand, so sit down.”

“Yes, Sasuk.”

Baek Cheon couldn’t figure out what to do.

Then—

“Not bad.” Chung Hwa finally opened his mouth and placed a dumpling on Chung Myung’s plate. “At least your brain isn’t as rotten as people think.”

Chung Myung beamed. “I always say I’m smarter than I look.”

“You look plenty dumb.”

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes. “Hwa hyung… that was uncalled for.”

Yun Jong sighed. “Please don’t encourage him, Chung Hwa.”

“I’m just giving credit where it’s due.” He leaned his elbow against the table. “And I do agree it was rude. Could’ve waited.”

Baek Cheon glanced between them. Something about the two—felt strange. Like they’d been thick as thieves since forever.

Baek Cheon cleared his throat.

“Chung Myung, was it?”

‘Ah, what a persistent guy!’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything.’

Understanding that it was impossible to stop him, Jo Gul and Yun Jong reached out and grabbed the hem of Chung Myung’s robe.

Please, just this once. Just this once in your life, behave politely…

Chung Myung opened his mouth.

“You must have had a tough time traveling all the way here.”

Oh?

Yun Jong and Jo Gul were shocked. How long had it been since such pleasantries came out of Chung Myung’s mouth…?

“You keep asking the same thing over and over. Do you need to go rest?”

…ehh, as if his character could change overnight.

Damn that consistent bastard!

“I’ll ask once again. Are you certain that we haven’t met before?”

“Nope. Never seen you before in my life.”

“It’ll be better if you answer honestly.”

“Hey, I already told you. Do you think I’d lie?”

Beside him, Chung Hwa calmly refilled Chung Myung’s cup.

“…You’re not helping,” Yun Jong muttered.

Baek Cheon turned toward Un Geom.

“I saw that child in the morning, drinking alcohol at a restaurant in Hua-Um. Not only that—he wasn’t alone.”

He pointed to Chung Hwa.

“That one too. Chung Hwa.”

Chung Hwa smiled without even blinking.

“And?”

Un Geom’s eyes twitched.

“Really?”

“Yes. As far as I know, it’s forbidden for third-class disciples to leave Mount Hua. And yet—”

“It is fine.”

“Yes, I saw… huh?”

“I said, it is fine.”

Baek Cheon looked at Un Geom with a shocked face.

Un Geom replied with a light nod. “That child is allowed to leave Mount Hua. So is Chung Hwa.”

“Who gave such permission?”

“The sect leader did. Do you have a problem with that?”

“S-sect… leader? Really?”

Baek Cheon was stunned.

He turned to Chung Myung.

Nom-nom-nom-nom.

He was eating again. Like none of this mattered.

And then, the entrance opened.

Hyun Young stepped in, looking around coldly.

“We greet the elder.”

Everyone stood up.

Hyun Young waved his hand dismissively. “Continue. I just came to check. Eat and rest. Don’t cause trouble. Un Geom, watch over them.”

“Yes, Sasuk.”

“I have something to say,” Baek Cheon said quickly.

Hyun Young looked at him.

“What is it?”

“I saw Chung Myung and Chung Hwa drinking alcohol down in Hua-Um today.”

Hyun Young frowned.

“Alcohol?”

“Yes!”

“They were drinking,” he emphasized, pointing at the two.

Hyun Young stared at Chung Myung.

“…What about it?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what about it?”

Baek Cheon opened his mouth… but nothing came out.

Chung Hwa leaned into Chung Myung and whispered, “Told you he wouldn’t care.”

Chung Myung smirked. “It’s good to have connections, right?”

Yun Jong buried his face in his hands.

‘This is Mount Hua now, huh…?’

“E-elder?”

Baek Cheon stared in stupefaction while Hyun Young looked at him with dissatisfaction.

‘Did I say something wrong?’

Baek Cheon rushed to clarify and repair this situation.

“It’s wrong for third-class disciples to go down to Hua-Um village and drink alcohol. Although those children were given the authority, by the sect leader, to descend at will, were they given permission to drink alcohol too? I don’t think they understand what they did.”

Hyun Young’s face twisted again.

‘He seems to have understood it clearly this time.’

And immediately…

“You’re someone who doesn’t understand words.”

“…. What?”

Hyun Young spoke without even trying to hide his anger.

“Did you set the rules for Mount Hua?”

“H-How could I?”

“Then was there any rule in Mount Hua that prohibits one from drinking when they’re outside the sect?”

“…”

Baek Cheon couldn’t bring himself to answer that question.

No, there was no such rule.

After all, what kind of sect would create a rule that forbids drinking?

But a Taoist should have a sense of propriety!

“And.”

Hyun Young looked at Baek Cheon.

“What about it?”

“… Elder?”

“What’s wrong with having a couple drinks?”

“…”

Why did it seem like Hyun Young’s face kept growing redder and angrier?

That wasn’t all.

Eventually, Hyun Young’s face turned beet red as he pointed at Baek Cheon.

“There are so many bastards who can’t even pay for what they eat here! But the people who feed you, go out and have some alcohol with their own money!? Huh? What do you think you are!? Do you think you can abuse your privilege as sasuk to torment them!?”

‘What?’

“You’re eating meat with the money they earned! Now, they go down and want to have a drink with the money they saved up! But you can’t stand it, so you come to me to snitch on them!?”

Baek Cheon floundered with a stiff face.

It was difficult to understand; why was Hyun Young cursing at him? Was this really just for saying that he saw third-class disciples drinking?

Is this really elder Hyun Young? Supposedly, he was meant to join the North Sea Ice Palace but ended up in Mount Hua, unable to fully demonstrate his skills. However, he was always known to be calm and cold; is this really the same man?

Seeing Hyung Young, wide-eyed and yelling, it was hard to tell if this was a dream or not.

“If you’re really so bothered by it, go down to Hua-Um and make some money… but no! You sit around gaining a reputation just for being a disciple and use your privilege as sasuk to bully them! Swinging swords and meditating all day isn’t going to bring any money or food to the table! Your mind! Use your mind and do something worthwhile! Should I open that head of yours and make something useful out of you!? What did you people even do to earn the meat on the tabl—”

Bang!

At that moment, someone violently slammed the door and entered.

“Hahaha! Here you are!”

A very strangely smiling face appeared as Hyun Sang covered the mouth of Hyun Young from behind.

“Eup! Eup! Eup!… let go of… eup!”

“Haha. Let’s go outside for a while. To a place away from the kids. Ah, stay still!”

Tah!

The sound of the door closing left the dining hall with a strange silence. No one could open their mouths.

Nom-nom-nom-nom.

Sip

In that awkward silence, there were only two sounds they could hear, the sound of something being eaten and something being drunk.

“What…”

Baek Cheon mumbled.

“Just what happened here?”

It was a statement that represented the feelings of all the second-class disciples.

–

“Isn’t it too strange? Sahyung?”

Despite the question being directed at him, Baek Cheon just silently set down the teacup in his hand. It was an old teacup that he had been using for a long time. Before he went into closed-door training, he thought that this cup had its own charm. But looking at it now, it seemed more pathetic than elegant.

After all, this was the true state of Mount Hua.

Old furniture, old buildings, and old people.

The only hope of the worn-out sect were the disciples, and among them, their greatest hope was Baek Cheon.

However, Baek Cheon returned after a year away, and now his ‘hope’ seemed irrelevant to them.

“It’s strange that new buildings were suddenly built, and it’s strange that areas of the sect which were neglected for over a decade are repaired, no… I mean, that’s a good thing. We couldn’t do any of it before because the sect didn’t have the funds. But!”

Baek Sang spoke in a strong tone, unable to hold back his anger.

“Isn’t the behavior of the elders too strange? We came back from such a long and arduous training, but the sect leader didn’t say much.”

“Didn’t the sect leader praise you enough for your effort?”

“Still, it’s been almost two years since we’ve been away….”

“He is a man who is eager for change.”

Baek Sang bowed his head slightly. Thinking about it, the sect leader really didn’t say much. But it didn’t make sense to call him out like that.

“Sect leader could be fine, but wasn’t Elder Hyun Young or even Un Geom Sasuk acting the same?”

Baek Cheon didn’t respond. No matter what anyone said, it was truly bizarre. It wasn’t like they were dissatisfied with their elders, but their treatment was strange.

“Didn’t you feel it? The elders were all taking those children's side.”

“Baek Sang.”

“Yes, Sahyung!”

“I am not that ignorant.”

“…”

How could he not understand when he was cursed and yelled at, right to his face?

“Sahyung. Those kids- especially that rude kid, he is quite cocky, isn’t he?”

“Hmm?”

“Even if the elders take his side, shouldn’t he at least bow his head when we, his direct seniors, come back? But that one….”

Baek Sang went silent after that.

If only that child had sneered or laughed at them, they could have called him out properly, but they couldn’t do anything about his indifference.

“Phew.”

Baek Cheon narrowed his eyes.

“And I don’t understand why Yu Samae is so interested in him. Why, just why….”

A small ripple occurred in Baek Cheon’s teacup as his hand lightly trembled.

“It could be that Yu Samae had some reason.”

“But she barely speaks with us. I’ve never seen her talk so actively with anyone until now, and it isn’t like we’ve only spent one or two days with her, right?”

“…”

“Leaving us aside, at least Sahyung—”

“Baek Sang.”

“—Yes, Sahyung.”

“Don’t get too angry.”

Baek Sang bowed his head and glanced at Baek Cheon’s eyes.

Baek Cheon tried to manage his expression, but it was inevitable that he would show a bit of how uncomfortable he felt. His eyes kept twitching, and he struggled to hold back a frown.

‘I lost to that young boy- Chung Myung.'

Not even a full saint or an elder?

The difference of level between disciples within sects like Mount Hua is akin to heaven and earth. Just like how the Baek disciples couldn’t speak against the Un disciples, Chung Myung also shouldn’t be able to speak against them.

‘Cheeky bastard.’

Baek Cheon bit his lip.

At that moment, Baek Sang, who bowed, continued.

“I apologize. It’s just unfair. We returned after such difficult training, but the elders didn’t recognize our efforts; and that snake-like bastard, who appeared out of nowhere, is taking over the sect by playing cute with the elders, right?”

“The time where we could play cute with the elders has already passed.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He knew. He knew it too well.

Baek Cheon let out a low sigh.

‘It’s a feeling of subtly being taken over.’

Were they away for too long?

In the past, as soon as they returned, the adults would have greeted them warmly and then come to visit Baek Cheon later. Now, they barely showed interest in him.

Instead, they were all looking for Chung Myung and that Chung Hwa kid.

Baek Cheon was unhappy over the sudden change in status.

He didn’t know what Chung Myung and Chung Hwa did to have such great expectations from the elders and receive their protection, but Mount Hua was his sect.

Baek Cheon was the only one who received the expectations of Mount Hua’s elders, and he had to be the guiding light that would return the sect to brilliance.

“Are you going to leave him like this?”

“What more can we do?”

“… shouldn’t we at least beat it into him or discipline him? If we leave it as it is, Mount Hua will be a mess. Sahyung should establish order and set him right.”

Baek Cheon smiled bitterly.

He didn’t like when his juniors talked back to him, but he wasn’t the kind to beat sense into others.

“Calm down for now.”

“Sahyung!”

Baek Sang raised his voice which made Baek Cheon frown. Seeing that, Baek Sang sighed and lowered his eyes.

Seeing that reaction, Baek Cheon nodded with a satisfied face.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“Then why…”

“There are things we need to know first.”

“Huh?”

Baek Cheon shook his head and set the teacup down.

“There is a proper order we must follow. Don’t you think it’s necessary to know why the elders are all fawning over that child- Chung Myung or the other one- Chung Hwa?”

“Ah, right. We should do that.”

“He’s coming.”

“Who?”

As soon as Baek Cheon finished, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Kik.

With the sound of the door opening, the person who entered bowed.

“Disciple Yun Jong is here.”

“Welcome.”

Baek Cheon pointed ahead of him.

“Sit down.”

“Yes, Sasuk.”

Yun Jong cautiously sat down. He couldn’t be sure if he should sit or not despite the offer.

Baek Cheon liked Yun Jong’s attitude.

‘This is how things should be.’

Not behaving like that other bastard.

Baek Cheon, who was relaxed, spoke in a soft voice.

“Yun Jong.”

“Yes, sasuk.”

“While I was away, you must have had a hard time trying to serve the elders and handle the disciples.”

“I just did what I was supposed to do as a disciple of Mount Hua.”

“Yes, you’re right. That is a natural action. But…”

Baek Cheon paused for a moment, which made Yun Jong lift his head to examine his expression, and then the expected words followed.

“It seems like strange things are happening in Mount Hua right now.”

“… are you talking about Chung Hwa or... Chung Myung?”

Baek Cheon didn’t respond, but Yun Jong knew what he aimed for.

“It is my fault for not leading that sajae properly. If you are angry, please punish me, sasuk.”

“No, it’s not something you could handle. What I am saying is…”

Baek Cheon smiled.

“Tell me all of what happened while I was away. I’ll listen to your story and decide what to do next.”

Yun Jong sighed deeply.

‘It’s natural for me to explain this to Sasuk, but it feels like I’m betraying Chung Myung and Chung Hwa.’

Before coming here, Yun Jong had already told Chung Myung and Chung Hwa. He asked if he could tell everything to the sasuk who called him. And Chung Myung’s and Chung Hwa’s answers were simple.

Go.

You shouldn't let Sasuk wait right? And there's no harm in telling them everything

“…”

It would have been nice if they had given some instructions.

Yun Jong glanced at Baek Cheon for a moment and then spoke.

“First, I think I should begin from the time Chung Hwa entered Mount Hua then Chung Myung."

As Yun Jong began to slowly unravel his story, the disciples listened to him with bated breath.

And as the story continued, Baek Cheon’s face gradually distorted more and more.

Chapter Text

The wind was sharp on the mountain today, slicing through the stillness of late afternoon like a blade. Despite the brightness of the sun hanging low above the cliffs, the chill remained stubborn. The kind of cold that snuck beneath layers and lingered in your bones.

Chung Hwa stepped out from the herbal storage room, the faint scent of ginseng and dried chrysanthemum still clinging to his robes. His sleeves billowed with each step, the black fabric of his robes fluttering gently as he walked toward the edge of the training grounds.

He paused when he spotted a familiar figure.

There, lying flat on the roof of the sect’s main hall like some kind of overgrown cat, was Chung Myung. Arms crossed behind his head, legs kicked out, his blade tossed carelessly beside him, and mouth slightly open as he stared up at the sky.

“...He's going to roll off and break something,” Chung Hwa murmured to himself, already changing course.

The roof tiles clicked softly under his feet as he made his way up—because of course Chung Myung was lying on the highest part of the roof like a lizard basking in the sun. Except it was freezing, and the little lunatic wasn’t even wearing his outer robe.

“Chung Myung,” he called softly as he reached the top, not wanting to startle him.

“Mm?” The response came lazily, without so much as a glance. “Oh. Chung Hwa Sahyung. What do you want?”

Chung Hwa blinked, pausing in place before settling down beside him. “You’ll catch a cold like that,” he said simply, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small, folded cloak. He draped it over the boy’s chest without ceremony.

“I won’t.” Chung Myung didn’t move, though he didn’t push the cloak away either.

“I believe you,” Chung Hwa said mildly. “But you’ll still sneeze. And that’s annoying.”

That earned him a side glance. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet you’re still lying here instead of running away from me.”

Chung Myung scoffed but didn’t argue.

The silence stretched. A hawk cried in the distance, and the wind shifted, stirring the long ends of Chung Hwa’s ponytail. He watched the sky with half-lidded eyes, feeling the steady warmth of the sun behind the cold.

After a moment, he shifted slightly, reaching into his other sleeve. A familiar rustle.

Chung Myung’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “...You brought snacks, didn’t you.”

“I always bring snacks,” Chung Hwa said, tone light. “It’s how I bait troublesome children into behaving.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like one,” Chung Hwa said, holding out a round mooncake, patterned with a delicate plum blossom design. “Take it.”

Chung Myung stared at it for a moment, then snatched it without ceremony. He bit into it, chewed, and chewed again. “Hmph.”

“Well?”

“It’s not bad,” he said around a mouthful. “Too sweet. You always make them too sweet.”

“You always say that, but you eat them anyway.”

“I never said I wouldn’t eat them.”

Chung Hwa smiled faintly, turning his gaze back to the sky. The silence returned, but this time it was warmer. Comfortable.

Chung Myung finally broke it, voice quieter than usual. “You’re weird.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Most people either try to lecture me, avoid me, or run away.”

“And I give you mooncakes.”

“You give me mooncakes,” Chung Myung agreed, finishing the last bite. “And you ruffle my hair like I’m a dog.”

Chung Hwa reached out slowly, his hand hovering over the boy’s head.

Chung Myung swatted it away.

“I didn’t even touch you yet,” Chung Hwa said, amused.

“I knew you were going to. Don’t.”

But his voice didn’t carry real heat. If anything, he looked like he was already dozing off again, arms folded under the cloak, the crumbs of the mooncake still on his robe.

“Hey, Sahyung.”

“Mm?”

“...I’ll let you ruffle my hair when we beat the Southern Edge bastards again.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Chung Hwa didn’t say anything more. He leaned back on his elbows and let the mountain wind carry away the tension, just a calm sky and the subtle breathing of the most chaotic sword saint to ever exist at his side.

Despite the cold, the moment felt warm.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

Late evening had settled over Mount Hua, and the courtyard outside the infirmary was quiet, save for the occasional crunch of gravel beneath footsteps. The sky had long since turned indigo, stars just beginning to glimmer above the peaks.

Inside, the smell of herbs hung heavy in the air.

Chung Myung stood in the doorway, chewing on a rice cracker, looking very unimpressed.

“You’re still up?” he asked flatly, one brow arched.

Chung Hwa didn’t look up from the scroll he was writing on, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, ink staining the tips of his fingers. His high ponytail had loosened, strands of deep red hair framing his face, and a half-empty cup of tea sat forgotten beside him.

“The medicine stocks were low,” he said, voice calm. “I had to finish making new salves before the outer sect disciples begin winter training tomorrow.”

“That was hours ago,” Chung Myung said. He stepped inside, crunching louder as he walked right up to the low table. “It’s the middle of the night. Why are you always doing this to yourself?”

Chung Hwa finished a character before glancing up. “I told you. It’s important.”

“You look like you died a week ago and no one told you,” Chung Myung muttered, plopping down across from him.

“I’m flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Chung Myung shoved the rest of his cracker in his mouth and grumbled something under his breath. Then he reached forward, grabbed the brush out of Chung Hwa’s hand, and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Chung Myung!”

“Shut up.” He scowled. “You’re going to pass out with your face in an inkpot one of these days, and I’m going to be the one who has to drag your half-dead body to bed.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he snapped, stabbing a finger at him. “You haven’t eaten dinner. You haven’t even blinked in like twenty minutes. Do you think your arms will fall off if you rest for once?”

Chung Hwa blinked, taken aback not by the words, but the uncharacteristic tightness in his tone.

For a moment, silence. The hearth crackled softly in the corner.

Chung Hwa’s shoulders slumped.

“You’re right,” he admitted softly. “I overdid it.”

“Obviously.”

“...I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Chung Myung said instantly. “You’re just a pain in the ass to deal with when you faint.”

Chung Hwa gave him a lopsided smile. “Mm. Of course.”

Chung Myung scowled deeper, then fished into his robes and tossed something wrapped in cloth onto the table. “Here. I stole this from the kitchen.”

Chung Hwa unwrapped it and blinked. “Sweet red bean buns?”

“They’re still warm.”

“You stole these?”

“No, I borrowed them permanently.”

Chung Hwa laughed, tired but genuine, and took a bite. The warmth spread quickly through his body, more comforting than any tea.

Chung Myung huffed and looked away, arms crossed. “Eat all of them. Or I’ll hit you.”

“Understood.”

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, the atmosphere softer now. The night breeze carried in the scent of pine through the open window, and the fire gave the room a golden glow.

After a moment, Chung Hwa leaned sideways and—without asking—rested his head on Chung Myung’s shoulder.

Chung Myung stiffened. “What are you—?”

“Just a moment,” Chung Hwa murmured. “Let me borrow you for a bit. I won’t fall asleep.”

“You’d better not.”

“Of course.”

Chung Myung sat frozen for another second before sighing dramatically.

“Fine. But if you snore, I’m dumping cold water on you.”

“You’re too kind.”

Chung Myung rolled his eyes, but didn’t push him off. He didn’t even complain when Chung Hwa fell asleep just two minutes later, breathing steady, face relaxed.

“…Idiot,” Chung Myung muttered.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, he stayed right there, letting his sahyung rest against him under the warm glow of the hearth, surrounded by sweet red bean buns and ink stains.

Chapter Text

Once the story was over, silence hung in the air.

No one spoke. Everyone just stared at Yun Jong with serious expressions, as if they'd stumbled into something deeply troubling.

It was Baek Cheon who finally broke the silence.

“So, those children—no, that Chung Hwa…”

“Yes, Sasuk?”

“…Came to Mount Hua after we—the second-class disciples—had already left for external training. Asked for permission from the sect leader to leave the mountain, received approval, and…”

He trailed off, massaging his forehead in frustration.

“Then didn’t leave immediately, but waited six months. And after that, returned with six hundred thousand coins, made alliances with Yeo Dong-Jun of Baekryeon Hall in Weinan, then moved on to establish connections in Yan’an, Jinan, and Mount Tai?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Yun Jong nodded.

“Not only that—Chung Hwa made a name for himself all over Shaanxi. They call him the ‘Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua’ now. And then that… that kid Chung Myung…”

“Discovered the sect’s lost treasure and the martial arts manuals that disappeared decades ago.”

“Right.”

“And he also found a ledger that exposed the corruption and mismanagement in the sect’s businesses… and reclaimed control of them?”

“Correct.”

“And on top of that, Chung Hwa cured Elder Hwang of the Eunha Merchant Guild, while Chung Myung caught the person responsible for poisoning him.”

Yun Jong nodded again.

“In return, the Eunha Guild took over managing Mount Hua’s finances. Including Hua-Um.”

Baek Cheon looked like he was losing years off his life just listening.

Hua-Um hadn’t even existed in any real sense when they left for their training. Back then, it was barely a name—just a ghost town surrounding Mount Hua.

Now it was alive and thriving.

“…Right.”

Baek Cheon opened his mouth again, then closed it. He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“I get it.”

“Yes, Sasuk. Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Alright.”

Yun Jong bowed and left the room.

Baek Cheon remained seated, brows furrowed deeply. The rest of the disciples around him looked just as grim.

“No, just what…”

Baek Sang finally broke the silence, voice tinged with disbelief.

“Are we saying that two kids solved all of Mount Hua’s problems by themselves?”

“…”

The silence was answer enough.

Baek Cheon couldn’t respond. It was overwhelming.

The biggest problem for Mount Hua wasn’t the martial arts or the lack of disciples—it was money. Without it, everything had crumbled.

No, it wasn’t just the lack of money.

They had been buried in debt.

When Baek Cheon left for training, his greatest fear was returning to find Mount Hua in ruins.

But Chung Myung and Chung Hwa had saved them. Completely.

“It’s no wonder the elders treat them the way they do.”

Baek Sang laughed bitterly.

“Hearing Elder Hyun Young yell at everyone for eating meat with those kids’ money—I thought they were rich merchant sons donating to the sect. But this…”

They weren’t just feeding Mount Hua.

They were saving it.

Baek Cheon leaned back, exhaling.

‘There’s no answer to this.’

If he were in Hyun Young’s position, he would’ve defended those two as well. Their contributions weren’t just significant—they were miraculous.

They were children who had dragged a dying sect out of the grave.

If Hyun Young had a son and he got into a fight with either of those boys, Hyun Young would likely side with them regardless.

‘Because no one else in this world could do what they did.’

“…Sahyung, this…”

“Mm.”

Baek Cheon closed his eyes and thought carefully.

“If they had just solved one problem, it would’ve ended with ‘they made a great contribution.’ But they’re tied to the Eunha Guild now. As long as Mount Hua’s finances are linked to Eunha, their influence will only grow.”

“At least for now,” Baek Sang said.

“Eventually, as the sect rises, won’t their importance fade?”

“Right. But who knows when that time will come? Honestly, all this…”

Baek Cheon clicked his tongue.

“Feels like gold falling into a beggar’s lap.”

Just possessing it was satisfying. Even if it wasn’t used, its value was undeniable.

Chung Myung and Chung Hwa were that gold.

‘I understand why the sect leader meets them alone.’

When Baek Cheon returned, he expected to be greeted with admiration from the elders.

Instead, two new children had taken all the spotlight. They held all the expectations, all the attention that Baek Cheon had hoped for himself.

It was impossible to ignore.

“Is it really such a big deal?”

Baek Mun, who had been silent so far, finally spoke.

“They just happened to find the treasure. And curing Elder Hwang was probably a coincidence too.”

“Sajae.”

“Sahyung, we’re a martial arts sect. How can we allow fame and wealth to dictate our hierarchy? The foundation of Mount Hua is martial arts.”

Baek Cheon slammed the table.

“Sajae, be careful with your words. That’s an insult to our elders and our seniors.”

“…That wasn’t my intention.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Huh?”

Baek Cheon nodded slowly.

“You’re right. Mount Hua has changed. Too much, too fast. We’ve made money—but that’s not our purpose. Martial arts must always come first.”

“That’s true.”

“We agree, Sahyung.”

Baek Cheon sighed and straightened his back.

“So, we go back to basics. The elders may be paying attention to them now, but when the upcoming conference draws near, they’ll have no choice but to look at skill again.”

“Yes, Sahyung.”

“And about that kid—Chung Myung. We’ll fix his attitude later.”

Baek Sang glanced at Baek Cheon, hesitant.

“But Sahyung.”

“What?”

“They’re going to be participating in the conference too, right? The third-class disciples, I mean.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Then… shouldn’t we help them too? We can’t have Mount Hua embarrassed.”

Baek Cheon looked surprised.

“What do you think, Sajae?”

“If we only focus on ourselves, it’s fine. But if we really care about Mount Hua, we should help the juniors too. Even if it’s difficult, we have to lead them. Who knows? It might even help us in the end.”

Baek Cheon smiled.

“As expected of my Sajae. You really care about Mount Hua.”

“I’m flattered, Sahyung.”

“Let’s spend some time with the juniors then. We’ve been gone for two years. It’s time we sweated together again.”

“Yes!”

In the end, respect only came with strength.

Kindness could bring goodwill—but it could never create authority.

If they left things as they were, the juniors would never learn proper hierarchy.

Before that happened, they needed to be reminded.

Of who came first.

Of who they should bow to.

“I hope those two—Chung Myung and Chung Hwa—have some skill. If they do, Mount Hua may have a bright future.”

“The future belongs to you, Sahyung.”

“I won’t be around forever. It’d be nice to have a few smart kids who know how to follow instructions.”

Baek Cheon grinned.

“That Chung Myung didn’t even look like he could walk properly. Can he even fight?”

Baek Mun shrugged.

“Well, that’s why we’re here to guide them. Even if it’s a bit much for Chung Myung.”

“I see.”

They all smiled at each other.

But Baek Cheon’s eyes were cold.

‘I’ll teach you to properly understand what it means to have seniors.’

—

“Are you sleeping?”

“…Mm.”

“Ugh, I got dragged to Sasuk’s room because of you, and you’re lying there like you don’t have a care in the world?”

Yun Jong looked down at Chung Myung with a complicated expression.

‘Why do I even bother…?’

He wasn’t expecting formal respect. Not from this kid. That idea had been abandoned long ago—probably the night Chung Myung arrived.

But still, when he saw how much the Baek disciples respected Baek Cheon, something stirred in him.

‘That used to be me.’

Back then, the third-class disciples looked up to him.

But since a certain someone joined…

Bad habits were learned fast.

“What are you thinking about, Sahyung?”

“…Nothing.”

Jo Gul frowned.

“This one’s the problem,” he muttered.

There was a time when Yun Jong was admired. Now, Jo Gul treated him like some neighborhood hyung.

Yun Jong sighed.

“Do you think it’s a good thing Chung Myung came to Mount Hua?”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t talk like that, Sahyung,” a cool voice interrupted.

Chung Hwa didn’t look up from his scroll.

“I’m serious.” Yun Jong turned to him. “You saw how the Baek disciples were acting. They’re not going to let this go.”

“They can try.”

Chung Hwa flipped a page.

“What?”

Chung Myung yawned. “We’re not hiding anything.”

“They were going to find out eventually,” Chung Hwa added. “Better they hear it from us.”

“What was their reaction?” asked Chung Myung.

“You’re asking like you don’t know.”

“…Fair.”

Jo Gul and Yun Jong sighed.

Looking at the relaxed face of Chung Myung, lying there tapping his stomach, they could only sigh again.

‘Crazy bastard.’

‘Shameless punk.’

If anyone could rein in Chung Myung, it was only…

Their eyes drifted to Chung Hwa.

Still quietly reading, expression calm and composed.

Baek Cheon wasn’t a bad senior. But if things soured between him and the third-class disciples, things could get messy.

Especially if he thought he could trample over Chung Myung.

“Well, arrows are going to fall on us,” Yun Jong muttered.

“I know.” Jo Gul nodded.

“Call the others. Tell them to be careful from tomorrow. Even if nothing happens, they’ll find something to nitpick.”

“Yes, Sahyung.”

Jo Gul stood, then paused.

“But Sahyung…”

“What now?”

“…Who do you think would win? If Baek Cheon Sasuk fought Chung Myung? Or Chung Hwa?”

“…Don’t waste time on dumb thoughts.”

“Tch.”

Jo Gul clicked his tongue and left.

Silence returned.

Chung Myung still lay there, dozing peacefully.

Yun Jong looked at him, then at the doorway Chung Hwa had walked through.

‘Who would win?’

Did Jo Gul even need to ask?

Chung Hwa had already stood and left earlier, saying simply:

“I’ll be in my room. If you need anything, knock.”

And that was that.

Yun Jong glanced once more at the sleeping troublemaker.

“…Sleep well. You’re going to need it.”

Peace in Mount Hua was officially over.

Storms were coming.

Chapter Text

Hyun Jong made two mistakes.

First, he believed Chung Myung was a good child. But since Chung Myung’s chaos helped Mount Hua grow, it worked out in the sect's favor.

The second mistake, however, was worse—he thought Baek Cheon was mild and gentle.

He wasn’t.

Thanks to Chung Myung’s brutal training, the third-class disciples were half-dead but stronger. Strangely, no one complained—they saw results.

But just as they adapted to Chung Myung's hellish routines, a new torment began.

The Baek disciples started bullying them.

“Why are they doing that?”

Everyone glanced at Chung Myung.

“Huh? Why are you looking at me?”

He tilted his head, clueless.

…This guy was clearly born without a conscience.

Chung Hwa who saw that chuckled under his breath.

—

“They told me I had to keep my knees straight when walking on the mountain.”

“I was told I need their permission just to get a drink of water.”

“Ah fuck. They’re being so cheap and petty.”

The second-class disciples were tormenting the third-class disciples in every way imaginable.

They’d twist ancient, long-forgotten rules and nitpick every tiny detail during training. Today, they even made them scrub a spotless boarding house until no speck of dust dared to exist.

“I’d rather just get beaten,” Jo Gul grumbled.

Having grown up fighting, this sort of passive-aggressive torture wasn’t something he could tolerate.

“I actually respected the second-class disciples.”

“They’re like neighborhood thugs!”

“We’re not in some back-alley gang, right? How is this even allowed?”

Yun Jong sighed deeply.

‘They’re not technically breaking any rules…’

Everything the second-class disciples demanded came from rules Mount Hua had written generations ago—rules no one paid attention to anymore.

The problem?

They were abusing that forgotten system to dominate their juniors.

Rules that hadn’t been updated in over two hundred years were now being dragged back from the grave to chain them down.

“No, but seriously—they said we should never let go of our swords. Are we supposed to hold them while bathing?”

“…Even while eating!”

“While sleeping, too!”

“What next? While shitting!?”

“This is madness!”

Their frustration boiled over.

The third-class disciples felt like they were going to lose their minds. The admiration they once had for their seniors had turned to betrayal and bitterness.

“I can’t sleep. I can’t eat properly.”

“They gather us just because they’re bored and yell at us if one person makes a mistake!”

“Do they think we’re dogs!?”

Yun Jong turned toward the true cause of all this chaos.

Chung Myung.

He was lying back in his chair, casually munching on snacks.

“Chung Myung.”

“Huh?”

“…Shouldn’t we do something?”

“About?”

“Sasuks. The Baek disciples!”

Yun Jong stared at him in disbelief. Hadn’t he been listening at all?

‘The second-class disciples want him to submit.’

And it wasn’t completely unjustified. Even Yun Jong could admit that dealing with someone like Chung Myung would be infuriating.

But the method they chose? Cruel, outdated, unnecessary.

The elders never had a problem with Chung Myung—because he never disrespected them. But the Baek disciples were a different story. Chung Myung treated them like sparring partners… or playthings.

“…Isn’t it obvious what they want?”

“Obvious?”

“I’m not saying change your personality. Just try… complying a little.”

“…Comply?”

Yun Jong immediately regretted that word.

Chung Myung’s eyes sparkled with creepy joy.

“Sahyung! I thought of something better!”

Yun Jong tensed. “…What?”

“I’ll destroy those sasuk bastards!”

Chung Myung shot up like a fired arrow.

“Catch him! If we let him out, we’re all dead!”

All the sahyungs lunged, pinning Chung Myung to the ground. Jo Gul jumped on top like his life depended on it.

“Don’t let him go!”

“Let go, you bastards!”

“Chung Myung! Calm down! Think of the consequences!”

“I’ll only beat one of them! Just one!”

“That’s still too many!”

“Ahhh! Let me go!”

In the middle of the chaos, a calm voice cut through.

“Don’t move. Sit down.”

Everyone froze and turned.

Chung Hwa.

He stepped into the room, his long red hair tied in a high ponytail swaying with each step. His black eyes glinted coldly.

“Chung Hwa…”

Chung Myung blinked.

“Ah, Sahyung!” Chung Myung called.

But something was different. His usual soft-spoken Sahyung was giving off a different air—something sharp and icy.

Chung Hwa looked down at the pile holding Chung Myung. Then, his gaze swept across the room.

“I overheard everything.”

He folded his arms, his sleeves falling elegantly as he tilted his head.

“They’re using outdated rules to justify their pride.”

No emotion in his voice. Only calculation.

“They're interfering with training… and trying to bring down the unity of our dorm.”

“Then you’ll stop me?” Chung Myung asked, curious.

“No.”

Everyone blinked.

Chung Hwa’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I agree with you.”

“…What?”

Chung Hwa’s calm, patient demeanor held, but his next words were cold.

“Rules have meaning only when applied with wisdom. This is cowardice hiding behind tradition.”

He looked toward Yun Jong.

“Mount Hua is rotting from inside if such things are allowed.”

Yun Jong couldn’t reply. The way Chung Hwa was speaking—it sent chills down his spine.

‘He’s calm. Too calm.’

Chung Hwa turned to Chung Myung.

“But not yet.”

“Eh?”

Chung Myung looked betrayed.

“The conference is coming. If Baek Cheon loses confidence or is injured, it’ll shame Mount Hua.”

Chung Hwa smiled gently.

“But after the conference? I’ll help you.”

Chung Myung’s eyes sparkled.

“Really?”

“Of course. After all, some lessons can only be taught with bruises.”

Everyone in the room froze.

‘Isn’t this guy supposed to be the nice one!?’

Chung Hwa walked over and knelt beside Chung Myung.

“But until then, listen to Sahyung.”

He ruffled Chung Myung’s hair with a faint smirk, and it sent a shiver down everyone’s spine.

“…Why does it feel like they’re both demons?” Jo Gul whispered.

“Because they are,” Yun Jong muttered, face pale.

Chung Myung finally gave in.

“Alright. I’ll wait until the conference.”

Everyone sighed in relief.

“But…”

Chung Myung looked up with a devilish grin.

“If they come to me first?”

“You’re free to respond,” Chung Hwa answered with a knowing smile.

The third-class disciples simultaneously groaned.

‘They’re both madmen.’

No—worse.

‘They’re madmen, one with patience and planning, the other one with strength and trouble.’

Chapter Text

“How was it?”

“… surprisingly, there was no reaction.”

“Is that so?”

Baek Sang looked into Baek Cheon’s eyes and answered.

“Yes. It didn’t seem like they were angry enough to lash out; he hasn’t even said anything that we could use to cause problems with them.”

“Hmm, really?”

Baek Cheon narrowed his eyes.

‘This is a little different from what I expected.’

Isn’t he at a rebellious age? Baek Cheon thought that if he scratched the third-class disciples a little, they’d immediately revolt against them, and this was what he aimed for.

Mount Hua is a prestigious sect.

There are only two sins considered to be utterly taboo within the sect. One was to never touch the Demonic Arts, and the other was to usurp their seniors.

These two actions are the most heavily punished crimes. The former is related to Mount Hua’s identity as a righteous sect, while the latter is a matter of challenging the history, traditions, and system of Mount Hua.

So, Baek Cheon planned to anger the third-class disciples and then use the sect’s rules to tie them down so that they couldn’t resist them any further. Surprisingly, the third-class disciples were tolerating their abuse well.

“Should we apply more pressure?”

“It would be unreasonable to go beyond this. If we go any farther, we may be faulted for causing the dispute.”

“Hmm.”

Baek Cheon let out a low sigh as if he didn’t like it.

‘Then… is he not simply a hot-blooded idiot?’

Considering what he saw from Chung Myung at the dining hall, he seemed to be impatient and reckless. He was someone that didn’t care about his reputation and even controlled the third-class disciples…

‘Was this Yun Jong’s doing?’

‘Or…that child-Chung Hwa…’

Whatever the case, it was certain that Baek Cheon’s plan was falling apart.

“What about the other third-class disciples?”

“There’s nothing. Aside from the fact that they’re doing some strange training….”

Baek Cheon gently tapped his cheek with his finger.

“I see.”

“Sahyung. It’s unreasonable to prolong this. We don’t know when the sasuks will grow displeased with our actions, and there isn’t much time left until the conference too.”

“I know.”

Baek Cheon nodded his head.

“Now that it’s boiled, it’s time to scoop out the porridge.”

“Then?”

At Baek Sang’s question, Baek Cheon smiled and spoke.

“As you know, the Chung disciples are good children.”

“That’s true. Before we left, they were all so naive and innocent. Yet, they’ve changed that much in two years….”

“It’s because they got entangled with a problematic child. In fact, do we really need to punish all the children? The problem is Chung Myung alone.”

“You’re right.”

Baek Sang agreed.

The third-class disciples and their representative, Yun Jong, aren’t difficult children to deal with. Jo Gul was a bit wild, but he was a child who Baek Cheon could handle.

The problem is Chung Myung.

Don’t they say that people change according to their surroundings?

The third-class disciples were fine before but became strange due to Chung Myung’s influence.

At least the third-class disciples still showed respect to their superiors, and they knew that the words of their sasuks were more important than words from their peers.

It was none other than Chung Myung who corrupted them like this.

In other words, if Chung Myung could be broken, then the third-class disciples would naturally become as docile and obedient as they used to be.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Sajae.”

“Yes, Sahyung.”

Baek Cheon smiled.

“Do we need another way? What we are doing now is just obeying and enforcing the rules of Mount Hua, isn’t that right?”

“That’s true, Sahyung.”

“There is no room for personal emotions to intervene. Isn’t Chung Myung also a precious junior of Mount Hua? He might be a bit cheeky, but if we can use him well, he’ll be a good resource. So, I am just going to correct the mistakes the young child is making.”

Baek Cheon smiled.

“However, the problem is the method. I didn’t want to use the rough method, if possible, but I don’t have enough time, so it is inevitable. The best way to discipline a child is through conversation, but occasionally isn’t it also necessary to reprimand them?”

Baek Sang nodded his head as if he was excited.

“One day, they will understand the meaning behind sahyungs actions.”

“Right. Even if it might hurt a little now.”

The two looked at each other and smiled.

—

Kiik!

The door to the White Plum Blossom Dormitory creaked open.

Peek!

A small head popped out, and the figure frowned slightly.

‘Nobody’s here?’

Chung Myung glanced around with urgency, like a thief creeping through the darkness.

Nothing unusual. No people around.

With a deep sigh, he stepped outside, his face falling into a despondent frown.

“Kuak!”

What was he doing?

Leaving the dorms, he looked up at the sky with a tired expression, his soul seemingly wanting to escape.

“My Sahyung. Are you watching?”

The one person who could understand him the most was…

What?

Ah, don’t get mad. Just listen, okay? Don’t interrupt. Wait until I finish before getting angry. Patience!

Chung Myung grimaced.

“Anyway, I’m doing all this just to avoid an airhead like you. Does that even make sense?”

He muttered resentfully, but of course, there was no answer.

“And there’s that woman who’s always popping up to annoy me, and that other guy who’s like a parasite, always speaking of rules no one’s ever heard of, bullying his juniors. Ah, I’d rather die than deal with these idiots!”

His patience was wearing thin. All these people were driving him mad. He could already feel the urge to flip everything upside down, even if it meant dealing with the sect leader personally. Maybe after what he had been through, he could join the Shaolin Sect, and they would welcome him for his patience.

“Haaa! What sin did I commit to deserve this? ...Well, okay, I committed many sins in my previous life…”

Chung Myung wasn’t completely free from guilt. He couldn’t say anything against the children or their elders, considering how much his Sahyung, the previous sect leader, had struggled to help him as a second-class disciple.

“Why did I act like that?” His eyes softened with a hint of regret.

He should’ve been more moderate.

It felt like karma from his previous life was punishing him now. He wanted to lead these younger disciples to maturity, but his own temper kept getting in the way.

‘Ah, maybe this is why Sahyung didn’t marry. He was afraid he’d have a kid like me.’

He sighed deeply, his thoughts drifting, his guilt momentarily overwhelming him.

“Sorry, Sahyung.”

He continued to walk out of the sect grounds. In the past, there would have been a guard at the main gate, but the current state of Mount Hua had changed. The sect didn’t see many visitors, so there was no need for guards. Not that it mattered much. Mount Hua, under his influence, had revived enough to not need protection. But these ingrates! No one even thanked him for ensuring the sect could survive for years, long enough to avoid running dry.

"I want to beat them all! All of them!” Chung Myung fumed.

But even as he raged, he couldn’t ignore the presence of someone else in his thoughts—Yun Jong. Lately, his face had been haunting him. It was strange, but whenever he saw Yoon Jong’s helpless, worried expression, it reminded him of his own Sahyung’s face.

‘It’s like my Sahyung’s back again, nagging at me.’

It was hard to ignore, the guilt tugging at his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to reign it all in.

“Tch.”

Chung Myung shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts.

“I just need to make it through until the conference is over.”

He might want to teach the Southern Edge Sect a lesson, but his hatred for them wasn’t as strong as his resentment for the Baek disciples. He wanted to kick their asses, but the Southern Edge Sect… He wanted to utterly crush them.

Right now, though, he’d just hold off. For now.

“Fine. I’ll endure until the conference. That’s it.”

But his impatience gnawed at him. He couldn’t stay patient for long.

“Yeah. If I lose my temper, there’ll be more problems.”

So, until the conference ended, it would be best to avoid the Baek disciples as much as possible.

Chung Myung took a different route up the mountain, avoiding the path he’d normally take.

‘I’m not going there again.’

After all, a person can be beaten twice, but three times? That’s just ridiculous.

He glanced toward the peak he'd gone to before.

“Ugh, not again. I can’t even train where I want now…”

He grumbled, thoughts of the other sects and their disciples—those who’d been training for a hundred years—looming in his mind. He needed to catch up, but there was no time to rest. He wasn’t just training to be strong for himself; he needed Mount Hua to rise again. For that to happen, they needed warriors who could stand against the masters of the world.

He drew his sword slowly as he reached a new peak, glancing around to make sure he was alone.

‘No one’s here, right?’

It wasn’t like he was paranoid, but ever since that woman started following him around, it’d been difficult to find a quiet moment. He could never shake the feeling that Yu Iseol was always just around the corner.

She’d been following him like a leech. She wasn’t as loud as the other Baek disciples, but whenever he tried to be alone, there she was—just lurking, always catching him off guard.

‘It’s not like she’s a ghost. Why can’t I sense her presence properly?’

It bothered him. As a martial artist, sensing people through qi was second nature to him. But Yu Iseol was different. She had a presence that felt… almost impossible to sense.

But that was when he saw someone else.

Chung Hwa.

Chung Myung paused for a moment before narrowing his eyes.

“I see you there,” he said, his tone mocking.

Chung Hwa, who had been watching him from a distance, stepped forward with a calm expression.

“Are you really sneaking out to train again?”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping, Sahyung?”

Chung Hwa’s voice was even, his demeanor calm, as he approached. “I’m not like those fools. If I don’t train, I can’t keep up. So I’d rather get a head start, you know it.”

Chung Myung nodded, a sly grin creeping onto his face.

“I’m glad you’re not one of those fools. Let’s train together. You’re the only one to get it.”

For some reason, the idea of training with Chung Hwa brought a strange sense of comfort to him. Though they were both martial artists, Chung Hwa’s composure and understanding of the bigger picture was something that Chung Myung couldn’t ignore. It was refreshing to have someone around who wasn’t just reacting to everything like a fool.

The two of them started sparring, the air crackling with energy as their swords clashed with precision and speed. Chung Myung’s reckless energy was matched by Chung Hwa’s calm, methodical strikes. The balance between them was almost perfect, with Chung Hwa’s experience and temperance making him a reliable partner in every way.

It was then, as the two moved in a graceful, synchronized dance of combat, that the familiar presence of Yu Iseol made herself known again.

“Chung Myung,” her voice rang out, causing Chung Myung to jerk back, startled.

“Ack!”

Before he could react, Chung Myung stepped back in alarm, his eyes wide, only to find her standing there, extending her hand toward him.

Chapter Text

“You should call me Sago, I am your Sago.”

“So what?”

“You need to respect your seniors.”

‘Forget that. You’re more like a ghost!’

Chung Myung sighed in frustration.

It was ridiculous that she had such a faint and hazy presence. Certainly, the world is vast, and it’s not strange that such a unique constitution exists, but her mind was also weird.

In fact, Chung Myung specialized in detecting the presence of others with his qi. If you simply used your five senses instead, it wasn’t impossible to track her- unlike Chung Hwa.

The real problem, however, was something else.

“Just why are you following me like this!?”

“Is that how you should ask?”

“… senior.”

Chung Myung felt a deep sadness in his chest.

‘If the Sahyungs saw me now, they’d fall over gasping for air at the hilarity of this situation… no, they might even cry while laughing.’

Maybe they’d even clap their hands until they break. That was how great this sight was.

Chung Myung had to respectfully address a girl younger than the granddaughters of his peers. He felt as though he had attained enlightenment, as the world openly mocked him, showing him the futility of his actions.

Would the world be fine if he decided to stray from the path and abandon these rules?

-No, it wouldn’t, you bastard!

Ah, seriously, come on!

Chung Myung took a deep breath and looked at Yu Iseol.

“So, why? Why do you keep following me!?”

“Hmm?”

“… senior.”

Yu Iseol raised an eyebrow in discontent.

Honestly, it looked like she was trying to slightly intimidate him, but it just looked cute on her.

Chung Hwa who thought the same chuckled gently, ‘she looks like a bunny just like Song-Baek-ah’

‘She isn’t cute just because I’m old.’ Chung Myung thought.

As Jo Gul and the rest of the third-class disciples said before, she was a beauty. If she had a more colorful expression and didn’t give such a cold impression, then she would attract several times more attention than she does now.

What an unfair world for people to care so much about appearances. Well, Chung Myung was also famous for his great looks in the past…

Ah, fine! Fine!

“That sword.”

Yu Iseol said while looking at Chung Myung.

“The sword which creates Plum Blossoms.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Chung Myung acted dumb.

It wasn’t something that could be understood if explained, and he didn’t have a reason to speak either. It was annoying how she’d constantly pester and follow him, so it was better to simply escape.

“I don’t know what I did, and I don’t know what you are talking about, so don’t waste your ti—”

“Teach me.”

“—me and go…?”

Chung Myung was shocked.

“What was that?”

“Teach me.”

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes.

‘Is this the reason she followed me?’

He thought she might cause trouble by telling others that he secretly learned some sword techniques outside of Mount Hua or blackmail him, but he didn’t expect such words to emerge.

Now he was curious.

“You know what it—…no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yu Iseol slightly bit her lip.

“I’ll tell the sasuks.”

“Go ahead. It’ll be good if they believe you.”

“I’ll tell the sect leader too.”

“Sure, sure. Do whatever you want.”

Chung Myung clenched his nose with one hand and waved with the other.

‘Let’s see if they believe you or not.’

Who would believe that Chung Myung, who entered Mount Hua less than a year ago, could perform the Plum Blossom Sword?

What would the sect leader say?

‘Haha. It seems like our Yu Iseol has had a difficult time during her closed room training. I’ll find a good physician for you.’

That would probably be what he says; she would be lucky if they didn’t toss her out of the room.

“Teach me, and I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m telling you. I don’t care who you tell.”

Chung Myung smiled.

“So, don’t interfere with other people’s training and go away. Because of you, I can never get any practice done.”

Go away, okay?

Just go! You are like a leech!

Chung Myung, who was about to retort again, went dumb at Yu Iseol, who stared and said.

“You aren’t going to teach me?”

“Excuse me. Sago.”

“Huh?”

“You are the sago, and I am the sajae. What could I even teach a Sago? Rather, I should be learning from you.”

“…”

Yu Iseol flinched at Chung Myung’s words.

‘Oh, that seemed to work.’

Since she kept emphasizing her seniority from the moment they met until now, this might work…

“There are no hierarchies when it comes to learning.”

“…”

No, where the hell did she learn to think like this? Did the Baek disciples have some Confucian teachings within them? How dare Confucianism enter into our precious sect!

“So, teach me.”

“No, because I have nothing to teach you!”

Chung Myung bluntly cut her off.

“I don’t know what Sago could have seen, but it must have been a dream. Or maybe it was a fantasy? Otherwise, you must have been overworked and hallucinated. I have no idea what Sago is even talking about! So stop with this and leave me alone.”

Chung Myung cut off her words, making her narrow her eyes.

“I couldn’t have been wrong.”

“No, that is just nonsen—”

“Because I have seen it before.”

“Before…”

Chung Myung’s eyes lit up.

“What?”

The atmosphere around Chung Myung changed as he glared at Yu Iseol with sharp eyes.

A sword that makes plum blossoms bloom.

The Plum Blossom Sword technique.

There are numerous sword arts in Mount Hua modeled after plum blossoms.

However, this technique does not merely mimic the shape of plum blossoms; only a few techniques could truly make plum blossoms bloom.

And there was no way it could be passed on to normal disciples. At the very least, one had to be an elder, and it was only transferred from a master to his disciple when the master felt that their disciple was worthy.

However, on that fateful day in the past, all the elders of Mount Hua died. Nobody could have predicted that they would be annihilated, so none of the elders had passed their techniques onto their disciples.

That is to say.

If someone could make plum blossoms, it must mean that they learned the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword technique.

And the only place where the sword technique was currently being taught…

“What is your relationship with the Southern Edge Sect?”

As Chung Myung spoke in a sneer, Yu Iseol tilted her head.

“Southern Edge?”

“…”

“Why Southern Edge?”

Is she not related to them?

Chung Myung stared at her face. No matter how he looked for signs of deceit, he could only see confusion in its place. If she were just acting, she would do better by giving up the sword and becoming an actor in a drama group. She could even perform in front of the emperor.

However, Chung Myung didn’t think Yu Iseol had the brain to control her expression so perfectly.

Chung Myung was losing it.

‘But.’

Even if she were a spy of the Southern Edge Sect, there was no way she could have seen anyone perform the Plum Blossom Sword technique. The Plum Blossom Sword technique has a deeper meaning only when combined with Mount Hua’s cultivation method.

… they couldn’t have stolen that too, right?

No!

Chung Myung, who returned to his casual smile, shrugged his shoulders and asked.

“You saw it before, what do you mean?”

Now Yu Iseol’s face darkened.

“A very long time ago.”

Yu Iseol looked up at the dark sky as if recalling old memories and spoke again with a stern face.

“Teach me.”

“I’m telling you that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?”

Yu Iseol nodded her head.

‘Has she finally given up?’

Thank Go—

“Then there is nothing I can do.”

Srrng!

Yu Iseol unsheathed the sword from her waist as Chung Myung looked back in horror.

“Ah! W-What is up with you so suddenly!?”

“You’re not going to teach me, right?”

‘What’s wrong with this crazy woman!?’

Who draws their sword just because somebody won’t teach them swordsmanship? What the hell were these Baek disciples being taught?

“You’re drawing your sword just because I won’t teach you?”

“It’s because you are stronger than me.”

Huh? That is true, isn’t it?

No, but what makes her believe that?

She couldn’t possibly have known that. How strange. She clearly had the wrong impression, but Chung Myung couldn’t even correct her because she ended up with the correct answer.

Phat! Phat!

Just like Chung Myung had seen before, Yu Iseol’s sword was light and had a brilliant elegance to it.

It pierces sharply and bends gently. The sword shakes like an illusion before lightly stabbing in again.

Mount Hua’s Sword.

Since returning to Mount Hua, Chung Myung had seen many swords. He had seen the Baek disciples’, Un Geom’s, and sometimes he had the opportunity to see the elders’ swords as well.

However, the sword unfolding before him now was closer to the true source of Mount Hua than any of the others he’d seen.

Just seeing this swordsmanship made him feel strangely sentimental.

Why?

‘Because her movement resembles the past Mount Hua? If not—’

“Move!”

At that moment, Yu Iseol’s sword came to pierce Chung Myung at the speed of light. Chung Myung turned his head and narrowly avoided it.

Swosh!

Several strands of his hair lightly drifted to the ground.

“EEEikkk!”

Was this crazy woman really going to stab him?

“Have you gone insane!? If I didn’t avoid that, I would have died!”

“There’s no way that you wouldn’t have avoided it.”

“Why are you so confident in me!?”

What is wrong with her head? Why doesn’t she think like normal people?

No wonder she has such a pretty face but no friends!

But there was no time for conversation.

Yu Iseol’s sword began to sharpen as she closed in on Chung Myung. Still, it would be easy enough for him to deal with it.

Ugh… if he could attack, that is.

If Chung Myung turned Yu Iseol’s attack against herself, then she would go from being confident in his skills to a hardcore fan of his. He needed to find some way to subdue her without getting hurt and without showing his ability.

Swish!

“I said don’t do that, woman!”

“It’s Sago!”

“What kind of Sago tries to kill her junior! Just what is wrong with your brain?”

‘Oh my! My ancestors. This is how far our Mount Hua has fallen!’

Chung Myung, who was lamenting his fate, frowned for a moment.

Perhaps it was because he was able to leisurely observe the incoming attacks despite their conversation, but he could see Yu Iseol’s movements slowly changing. As if her eyes were drunk and losing focus, her sword began to deviate from the set path.

‘Oh?’

Enlightenment in the middle of a spar?

‘Even Jo Gul couldn’t achieve that.’

Jo Gul could be considered the best in Mount Hua in terms of swordsmanship talent.

‘No.’

Chung Myung stretched out his wooden sword and helped the deviating sword return to the proper path.

Achieving enlightenment meant entering a trance-like state and finding their one true sword. If you intervened without the confidence or ability to handle it, then it was possible that the enlightened state could be shattered immediately; in the worst case, they may even receive a backlash and die.

Ordinary people would have rushed to retreat without daring to get involved.

But Chung Myung could anticipate and understand the sword’s path at each moment and lead the sword in the best direction.

‘Not there. Right, this side. No no, I said here.’

Tuk! Tuk!

Chung Myung would stretch out his sword and tap Yu Iseol’s sword, leading it to the correct path. The only thing that could be done in such a situation was to let it flow…

Chung Hwa, who had been silently watching from the side, sighed inwardly.

Though he wasn’t as reckless as Chung Myung, he still knew that Yu Iseol could never injure him. Chung Myung’s strength was on another level. Still, watching the two interact, he couldn’t help but feel a bit amused. Their dynamics were certainly something to observe. If anything, Chung Myung had a way of making even the most serious situations feel somewhat ridiculous.

“What are you doing!? You bastard!”

Chung Hwa’s eyes darted toward the approaching Baek Cheon, who looked like he was about to explode with anger.

Chung Myung who also noticed Beak Cheon looked like he's about to explode.

Ah… why the hell are you here!? You damn brat!

‘Ah- I should have bought snacks’ Chung Hwa chuckled under his breath.

Chapter Text

“You bastard! What are you doing!?”

As Baek Cheon surged toward Chung Myung, moving with an insane speed, Chung Hwa looked up to the sky, his face blank and lifeless.

Haa.

Oh, dear. What a poor fate.

Baek Cheon lunged at Chung Myung, drawing his sword without hesitation.

Wait, why did he have a real sword?

‘Why are all these disciples constantly pulling out real swords? What would happen if something truly crazy occurs because of this? Who’s going to take responsibility for it?’

As Chung Hwa pondered the absurdity of it all, Baek Cheon’s sword, surrounded by dark blue and black qi, rocketed toward Chung Myung’s shoulder.

Baek Cheon, despite his furious attack, had the decency to aim for a non-lethal area.

But…

“The after-effects of that sword qi are still going to kill me, you crazy bastard!”

Chung Myung, with his swift reflexes, kicked the sword away mid-air.

Clang!

A loud sound echoed across the area as Baek Cheon’s sword collided with Chung Myung's foot, the force of the impact throwing Baek Cheon back several feet.

“Uh?”

Baek Cheon rose quickly, glancing between Chung Myung and his sword. His eyes trembled in confusion—everything had happened too quickly for him to understand.

“Tch.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue and casually examined Yu Iseol’s condition. Despite the massive commotion from the clash, she had remained deep in her trance, undisturbed.

She’s still fine?

Usually, this level of noise would snap someone out of their trance, but Yu Iseol was still deeply absorbed in her swordsmanship.

Slow. So slow.

It was because of her ignorance that she managed to stay in the trance. It wasn’t common for someone to enter such a deep focus while swinging their sword.

In Buddhist terms, this state was called exaltation—a state where one sheds their shell and enters a new realm. For a warrior, this moment was one of the most crucial in their training.

If she had been woken up from this trance… Chung Myung thought. She’d regret it her whole life.

“Bastard! What are you doing!? Don’t you know how important enlightenment is for a warrior?” Baek Cheon yelled as he faced Chung Myung.

‘And you attacked me despite knowing that?’ Chung Myung shot him a withering look.

“Touching someone in a trance! No matter how little common sense you have, there are things you don’t do! You ruthless brat!”

Baek Cheon stared back at him, anger and frustration clear in his eyes.

“It’s true I didn’t like you, but I never thought you’d be this rotten. Messing with someone in a trance? I’ll correct that habit of yours right now!”

Chung Myung sighed and rolled his eyes.

Is this guy really this dense?

“If you knew how important a trance is, then why did you draw your sword and attack?” Chung Myung asked, pointing at Baek Cheon.

Baek Cheon blinked, stunned by the logic.

“What?” He stammered.

“What if your sword had gone toward Iseol and hurt her?” Chung Myung pressed, his voice sharp.

Baek Cheon hesitated.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Then I should just die, right?” Chung Myung snapped, cutting him off.

Baek Cheon went silent for a moment, his face faltering.

Damn, it does make sense…

Chung Hwa, standing quietly off to the side, could only sigh at the ridiculousness of it all.

He was used to watching his senior, Chung Myung, ruffle up the younger disciples. He always took the brunt of it, being the “older” soul in a younger body. Though his expression remained passive, he had a deep understanding of what was unfolding.

These Baek disciples… he thought, shaking his head inwardly. Why are they all so… insane?

The only thing that prevented him from intervening was knowing full well that if he did, Chung Myung would handle the situation his way—no matter how unreasonable it seemed.

“Are all the Baek disciples like this?” Chung Hwa muttered under his breath, watching as Baek Cheon fumbled to find the right words.

Baek Cheon scowled, speaking through gritted teeth. “I didn’t expect this from you. I’ve had enough of you being so arrogant, and now you’re going too far. I won’t let this slide anymore. You’ve crossed a line this time!”

Chung Myung glanced at Baek Cheon and smirked.

“Ah, but my patience has a limit, too,” he said coolly. “And you, Baek Cheon, you’re the one causing harm here. If you had just stayed calm and understood the situation, none of this would’ve happened.”

Baek Cheon, now seriously pissed, raised his sword again, his determination evident. “Get away from Iseol! This ends now!”

Chung Hwa, feeling the tension building, stepped closer, but said nothing. His eyes never left the two of them. He knew this was about to escalate.

“Is this enough, Sasuk?” Chung Myung asked nonchalantly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“More,” Baek Cheon spat back, furious.

“Tch.” Chung Myung stepped away from Iseol and gave a slight shrug.

“Good?”

“Are you messing with me?” Baek Cheon snarled, his temper boiling over. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Who’s causing harm here, huh?” Chung Myung shot back, a sharp grin on his face. “It’s not me. It’s you.”

Baek Cheon let out an exasperated growl. “I’m your senior, you arrogant brat. I’m going to teach you some manners!”

Chung Hwa’s lips curved into a slight smile as he observed the two of them. He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen, but he knew one thing for certain—Chung Myung was going to obliterate Baek Cheon.

Baek Cheon’s face was red with frustration, and it was clear that the tension between them had reached its peak.

Chung Myung, sensing the impending showdown, seemed to take it all in stride. "Oh, you want a fight now?" He licked his lips, his expression turning from sarcasm to wicked amusement. "You're dead, Baek Cheon. This is where you fall."

Baek Cheon tightened his grip on his sword. "We'll see about that. I'm going to put an end to this once and for all."

Chung Hwa, though standing on the sidelines, couldn’t help but shake his head at the absurdity of it all.

This is going to be a disaster, he thought, though he was certain of one thing—Chung Myung was going to make this very entertaining.

With a final glance at the both of them, Chung Hwa sided silently with Chung Myung, knowing that this battle would end as it always did. Baek Cheon had no idea what was coming for him.

—

‘Has he lost his mind?’

Baek Cheon couldn’t help but feel flustered.

Chung Myung was walking with his head tilted to the side. It looked like some back-alley gangster walking in to threaten innocent civilians.

There were two reasons why Baek Cheon was flustered.

First, was that Chung Myung acting like a gangster seemed to suit him too well. Second, the person Chung Myung was currently intimidating was none other than Baek Cheon himself.

‘Did he really lose his senses?’

Baek Cheon was Chung Myung’s sasuk.

Of course, that wasn’t important because they both agreed beforehand that they would leave their titles behind for this battle.

What truly mattered was that Baek Cheon was different from Chung Myung, who had just entered the sect.

Baek Cheon entered Mount Hua when he was even younger than Chung Myung. In other words, he had already spent over 15 years learning martial arts.

But what about Chung Myung?

‘It’s only been half a year since he started.’

Even if Chung Myung began training within his mother’s womb, he would still have spent less time practicing than Baek Cheon. Even if Chung Myung was talented enough to become the world’s greatest master, right now, it was impossible for him to defeat Baek Cheon.

Even those with talent need time to properly develop.

If talent alone could surpass the walls of time, then would anyone even try to master martial arts?

‘But…what is with his reaction?’

However, Chung Myung acted as if he truly believed he could defeat Baek Cheon.

Baek Cheon was so confused that he couldn’t even speak.

“… you’re really crazy.”

“No. Not at all. The crazy one here is you.”

“What?”

“If you weren’t crazy, then why would you try and challenge me?”

If those who were entangled with Chung Myung in the past were present, they would all vigorously be nodding their heads.

The Southern Edge Sect called him the devil that descended from Mount Hua, and the Wudang sect used to say that Chung Myung’s name reached the sky, but his evil deeds covered the earth.

‘Fuck you.’

Chung Myung raised his hand.

Surprisingly, Chung Myung wasn’t someone who liked resorting to violence.

…What?

What about all the things he’d done so far?

That was all because the others wouldn’t listen otherwise.

For Chung Myung, violence was just a means to an end. He ultimately wanted everyone to do well on their own, without him having to force them again.

Why would anyone use violence if everything could be settled peacefully? People only got beatings because they refused to listen.

But now, Chung Myung started to think it might be better to use violence as an end rather than a means.

“Your self-indulgence knows no bounds. My hands are heavy and full of resen—”

“Come on.”

“—what did you say?”

Chung Myung just shrugged his shoulders.

“I usually don’t like talking before a fight, but listen well. In a little while, you won’t be able to speak even if you want to, so just come at me.”

“Arrogant until the end, you bastard!”

Baek Cheon grabbed his sword.

He also didn’t want to waste any more time.

‘I was going to go easy on him.’

Baek Cheon ground his teeth.

No matter how angry he was, he couldn’t actually cut down his own junior. But Chung Myung could be overwhelmed with swordsmanship. Baek Cheon intended to beat Chung Myung so thoroughly that he would piss himself in fear whenever they crossed paths.

Baek Cheon grasped his sword and rushed toward Chung Myung.

The sword quickly cut through the air toward Chung Myung. It was a sword that seemed different from Yu Iseol’s. At first glance, they may look similar; however, Baek Cheon’s was heavier and fiercer.

In a way, it was the same as the Southern Edge Sect.

A sword that minimizes the colorful changes that were the basis of Mount Hua’s art to take advantage in a sword fight. With only a moment of inspection, Chung Myung had firmly understood the essence of Baek Cheon’s style.

‘Strange.’

The Southern Edge Sect abandoned their swords and tried to emulate the splendor of Mount Hua. However, Baek Cheon reduced the splendor of Mount Hua’s sword to achieve the simplicity of the Southern Edge Sect.

‘Well.’

Thinking about it, it is normal.

All sword arts undergo constant changes, and those changes are always seeking to advance the style. Naturally, one would seek inspiration for their swordsmanship from those who are in a better condition than themselves.

In Mount Hua’s heyday, the Southern Edge Sect was crushed by Chung Myung and would have thought that a flashier sword was the answer.

On the other hand, the second-class disciples of the current Mount Hua were crushed by the Southern Edge Sect through the conference and desperately recognized the gap between their skills. They must have considered the sword of the Southern Edge Sect to be the right answer.

It was understandable that both sects would resemble one another.

But!

‘Pathetic fools.’

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes.

Does that mean Baek Cheon learned the style of the Southern Edge Sect because there was nothing more for him to learn here? Well, Chung Myung didn’t like this bastard from the start.

‘An idiot who doesn’t even understand what he has now covets someone else’s art?’

Chung Myung must let him know. What Mount Hua has.

Baek Cheon rushed in.

“I am going to change your attitude today.”

Chung Myung clenched his fist as he watched Baek Cheon rushing toward him.

“I’ll change!”

He put the right foot back.

“That habit of yours!”

And tilted his back a little.

“Which!”

The fist pulled back and then extended forward.

“No one fixed it till now, you son of a bitch!”

Pride.

Chung Myung’s fist penetrated through the changes made in Baek Cheon’s sword. A fist that stretched out at an accurate angle and appropriate speed, aiming between the changes and transitions.

Baek Cheon was shocked as he saw the fist of Chung Myung piercing through the sword technique.

It was easy to say that it could be done. However, it was absurd that Chung Myung could accurately shove his fist through a sword art that could easily slice his arm off.

From Baek Cheon’s point of view, it felt as if the arm of a ghost had emerged from the abyss.

But there was no time to be surprised.

Tuk!

Baek Cheon’s jaw was hit.

Drrrrk!

And he heard a squeaking sound behind his neck. In an instant, his consciousness flew away, then swiftly returned.

When he came to his senses, his body had been knocked back repeatedly, bouncing off the ground.

‘What?’

What just happened?

His senses had dulled for a moment. Baek Cheon didn’t realize what had happened to his body when he bounced back. He was overtaken with a distant understanding of reality.

Kuk!

“Kuak!”

The moment his body settled on the ground, an indescribable pain shook him to the core.

“Ackk!”

His back was fine. But searing pain radiated from his jaw, where Chung Myung had struck.

Grabbing his chin, Baek Cheon groaned.

Learning martial arts meant that one had to get used to suffering. It wasn’t simply pain from pushing the body to its limit but also frequent injuries from training and sparring.

But this was unlike any pain Baek Cheon had suffered before. It really felt like a new world of pain had opened up for him.

“Wake up, you bastard.”

Chung Myung said while tilting his head and approaching Baek Cheon.

From the sidelines, Chung Hwa watched with amusement, leaning casually against a tree. He had been silently observing the fight, fully aware of the outcome. He wasn't worried about his sajae—he knew Chung Myung was going to win. In fact, he was almost enjoying the show, his lips curling into a small smile as he watched Baek Cheon struggle. After all, it was quite rare to see someone get so thoroughly crushed.

Seeing that, Baek Cheon got up.

Chung Myung seemed a bit surprised.

“Oh? You actually got up?”

Obviously, he got up!

While he was enduring the pain in his jaw, Baek Cheon felt like his heart was being rent as Chung Myung mocked him. Baek Cheon struggled to comprehend the current situation.

He desperately tried to calm his trembling legs and raised the sword again. The bitter taste of blood in his mouth clearly reminded him of reality.

“H-How?”

Baek Cheon was not stupid.

The earlier exchange was no accident. No one in this world would risk losing their arm to a sword technique for a chance at a lucky strike.

In other words, Baek Cheon’s sword was clearly visible to Chung Myung’s eyes.

“How did you do that?”

Chung Myung looked at Baek Cheon as if he were pathetic.

“Your technique reduces the myriad changes and flows between changes depending on how you choose, but so what? Did you think that your technique was flawless? Really, for every one thing that you know, there are two things you don’t. Of course, there are gaps in your sword art!”

Baek Cheon stood there wide-eyed.

“N-No one managed to find them till now.”

“Obviously, because the people you were dealing with were stupid. Any elder could have figured it out immediately.”

Wait, maybe not?

Uh… what was the level of the current elders? Huh?

Leave that aside.

“You mean my sword is wrong?”

“Yeah.”

Chung Myung spoke as if he didn’t even need to think about it.

“For now, you must be able to stand ahead of your peers by a little bit. But as time passes, your sajaes will start to outpace and overtake you.”

“How can you know that!? You only recently joined the sect! I can’t believe your words! I won’t!”

“Ah. Do whatever you want.”

Chung Myung smiled bitterly.

The disciples of Mount Hua were committing the same mistake the Southern Edge Sect did, and Chung Myung could even understand their reasons.

‘It isn’t that strange.’

Perhaps, even in Chung Myung’s time, something like this happened countless times. At the time, however, Chung Myung simply didn’t know what consequences such a change could bring.

Due to Chung Myung’s vast experience, his eyes could see how someone’s sword would develop. Seeing young disciples who were only beginning to develop their style, things that had never been noticed before began to appear.

“Be grateful that I am a disciple of Mount Hua.”

“What?”

Chung Myung raised his wooden sword.

Honestly, Chung Myung still wanted to crush Baek Cheon, but wasn’t he also one of Mount Hua’s cute disciples? Even if he was going to be crushed, it would be nice to beat him in a way that would help his development.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you down with a sword instead of a fist. Ah, I’m so kind.”

“…”

Is Chung Myung crazy?

No, he really is crazy, right?

Seeing the bewildered expression on Baek Cheon, Chung Myung took a deep breath.

“Some say that the purpose of Mount Hua’s sword was to resemble plum blossoms. But that is only what those who are unfamiliar with Mount Hua’s sword say. Mount Hua’s sword doesn’t imitate plum blossoms. The sword of Mount Hua aims for….”

Chung Myung, who had been speaking seriously, suddenly frowned.

“Ah, never mind. Do you understand what I am saying? Sometimes it’s easier to understand when your body gets beaten rather than with your brain. I’m coming!”

“Uh, Huh?”

Without realizing it, Baek Cheon took a step back.

However, the speed at which Chung Myung rushed toward him was twice as fast.

Baek Cheon swung his sword and tried to stall Chung Myung. Even if he was injured, his instincts as a swordsman still allowed his body to react before he had time to process what was happening.

At that moment, Baek Cheon noticed.

The image of Chung Myung’s fingers slightly trembled, then the wooden sword multiplied into dozens or more and filled his vision.

‘W-what is that…?’

“Thighs!”

Twack!

The wooden sword hit Baek Cheon’s thigh, and he opened his mouth with tears brimming in his eyes.

But it didn’t end there,

“Wrist!”

Thwack!

Chung Myung’s sword precisely struck Baek Cheon’s wrist, which was holding the sword. From wrist to hand, it felt like his arm went numb for a moment, and he lost grip on his sword.

‘H-Hold on…’

At that moment, Baek Cheon’s ears were filled with a sound he dreaded hearing.

“Head! Head! Head! Head! Head!”

Why not just once, you bastard?

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Baek Cheon was hit by a series of blows, feeling like his head was going to explode; his mouth fell open as his eyes rolled back.

Even as he collapsed, his mind was obsessed with a single thought.

‘Why did you say head five times but hit me six times?’

It was a question that was left unsolved as his consciousness flew away.

Chung Hwa chuckled quietly to himself, his amusement evident as he watched his sajae deliver yet another lesson to Baek Cheon. He wasn’t concerned—he knew the outcome. He might not have interfered, but silently enjoying the spectacle from the sidelines was more than enough.

[A little gift here <3]

[Edit: aaaahh- nooo, I forgot Chung Myung’s little hair like thingy TT]

[Please ignore that]

[Edit again: Yeahhh- um I tried my best to draw it... and just a moment ago it looked fine but right now I see some things that doesn't looked good... oh god]

Chapter Text

“It’s still such a small place.”

The disciples of the Southern Edge Sect glanced around at Hua-Um and spoke with a smirk.

Although they had been to this place in the past, this Hua-Um village was very small. Compared to Xi’an, where they usually went, this was no better than the empty countryside.

“Sahyung. Did Mount Hua really used to be in the Ten Great Sects?”

“Of course.”

“But isn’t this village too small and shabby for a sect that used to be great?”

Jin Geum-Ryong said with a smile.

“You’ve got it backward. This village was only able to form because Mount Hua was here. In the past, Mount Hua was strong enough that this village developed so that the people coming to visit the sect would have somewhere to live.”

“I see.”

Jong Seo-Han nodded as if he finally understood.

“But aren’t they utterly ruined now?”

“That’s true too.”

Jin Geum-Ryong nodded.

Jong Seo-Han looked around and opened his mouth.

“I honestly don’t know why this pointless event is being held. What’s the point in clashing swords with Mount Hua when the results are obvious? Wouldn’t it be better for us to simply swing our swords on our own?”

“This has been decided by the elders; they have their own plans. Be mindful of what you say.”

“Yes, but…”

Jong Seo-Han slowly turned his head back.

Looking at the person following behind him, he smiled.

“But this time, the conference is quite meaningful. It’s worthwhile to take revenge for those who have been disgraced.”

It was a provocative remark.

However, the one receiving the provocation, Lee Song-Baek, continued walking in silence.

‘That’s no fun.’

Jong Seo-Han narrowed his eyes.

Thanks to Chung Myung’s actions at Elder Hwang’s residence, it became common knowledge within the Southern Edge Sect that the Eunha Guild had chosen to support Mount Hua over themselves.

Of course, despite his actions to repent, Lee Song-Baek drew unfavorable gazes for his role in beating Chung Myung and damaging the sect’s reputation.

‘There’s no reaction, no use teasing him.’

Since that day, Lee Song-Baek has changed as a person. He used to be quite serious, but now he is more reticent and stoic.

“We were disgraced by Mount Hua for the first time in 100 years, so we need to repay this debt, Great Sahyung.”

“That’s right.”

While Jin Geum-Ryong and Jong Seo-Han were walking, Lee Song-Baek walked along without wanting to get involved in their conversation.

His gaze turned toward the towering Mount Hua.

‘Mount Hua?’

When he visited this place in the past, he felt light-hearted. But now, the shadows of two people overlapping Mount Hua could be seen.

“We may be walking straight into the tiger's and dragon's den.’

Lee Song-Baek seemed to see the smiling face of Chung Myung and the calm face of Chung Hwa.

—

“What the hell!?”

Jong Seo-Han was annoyed as he spoke with a voice full of anger.

Climbing a mountain wasn’t an easy task, even for those who learned martial arts. This steep mountain looked like it would even be difficult for a bird to ascend.

“I don’t understand what the hell these people thought when they built their sect in a place like this. No wonder their sect is doomed.”

Chung Myung would applaud if he could have heard that statement, but if Chung Hwa heard that he would definitely judge them silently.

But Jin Geum-Ryong didn’t seem to agree.

“The sect’s location is meaningful; it represents a disciple’s desire to sacrifice and leave behind their mundane and materialistic lives while returning to nature. Naturally, they would choose a difficult location for outsiders to enter.”

“What sort of place is Mount Hua? It’s only half a sect now. At least if it was the Wudang sect that built this place, it would be understandable.”

“Well, you are right.”

Those who climbed Mount Hua before must have had a hard time, so they built a place to rest. The disciples of the Southern Edge sect were resting there now.

One of the second-class disciples opened his mouth with a sullen expression.

“After going through all this trouble, we should be treated to something amazing. Instead, they’re going to feed us grass and make us sleep in ruined rooms.”

“I don’t care about the food; I just want to sleep comfortably. Last time, I couldn’t even sleep without worrying that the building would collapse on me.”

“Even beggars wouldn’t sleep in such a place. What kind of sect is this? This is worse than the Beggars Union.”

Dissatisfaction and scorn mixed into the conversation.

“I think we should stop this useless conference already. We gain nothing from it. We travel so far away to come to Mount Hua and suffer this poor treatment, yet Mount Hua is the only one getting anything good from it.”

Jin Geum-Ryong just shrugged it off.

“I know that everyone is dissatisfied with this, but it would be better for you all to calm down. Don’t you know how the elders feel about Mount Hua?”

“We don’t get it. Why are they so obsessed with a ruined sect?”

“I know.”

“Maybe it’s because of their potential.”

“Potential?”

Someone snorted.

“If they had potential, they would have already changed. Why would they allow themselves to decline for a hundred years if they had some way to reverse the situation?”

“Every sect has its history; what matters is now.”

While everyone was disparaging Mount Hua, one person spoke up.

“You had better not underestimate Mount Hua too much.”

Everyone’s eyes turned together.

Lee Song-Baek.

With an expressionless face, he said.

“If you do, you may end up disgraced.”

Jong Seo-Han frowned.

“Like Sahyung?”

“…”

Despite the obvious provocation, Lee Song-Baek didn’t respond.

“Don’t worry, Sahyung. We won’t afford Mount Hua any chances. We’ll even break the one that trampled on Sahyung’s dignity for you.”

“I am just saying that you should remain alert.”

“What could staying alert around Mount Hua even do for us?”

“I…”

Lee Song-Baek was about to say something but then sighed slowly. Whatever he said wouldn’t work.

Elder Ki Mok-Seung and Lee Song-Baek had the most horrible experience because of what Chung Myung had done at the Eunha Guild.

In particular, all criticism for the incident had fallen onto Lee Song-Baek. It wasn’t surprising; how could people blame an elder?

“Do as you please. But if you let your guard down, there will be a price to pay.”

As Jong Seo-Han frowned and was about to say something, a soft voice came.

“You aren’t wrong.”

Everyone’s heads turned again.

Everyone stood up when they saw the man slowly ascending the mountain.

“Sit.”

“Yes.”

The elder of the Southern Edge Sect, Sama Seung1, looked at everyone once and spoke.

“Did you all forget what happened with Eunha?”

When the word Eunha was spoken, Lee Song-Baek flinched. But the other disciples answered without delay.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Sama Seung’s eyes shone.

“Everything was ruined, and we were put to shame because of that collapsing sect. Do you understand how angry the sect leader was?”

Everyone bowed their heads at his words.

Not because they did something wrong, but because of the qi releasing from his body.

“It is enough to be disgraced by Mount Hua once. We must not suffer such a disgrace again. Our Southern Edge Sect should rise above the world and stand over others. How long do you believe we should waste our time fighting with third-class disciples from Mount Hua? You need to put an end to this atrocious relationship! I will not forgive anyone who suffers disgrace at the hands of Mount Hua, even if it’s only due to a moment of carelessness!”

The Southern Edge Sect’s disciples held their breath while listening to the cold voice of their elder.

“A general on the battlefield should never have remorse, and a lion should do its best to catch a rabbit. It’s not enough to simply defeat Mount Hua; the Southern Edge Sect must be strong enough to trample Mount Hua without even giving them a chance to stand against us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Elder!”

The sharp eyes of Sama Seung looked around at the disciples and nodded.

“However, there’s a difference between vigilance and fear, right?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

Sama Seung turned and looked at Mount Hua.

“Get up. Now that you’ve had a good rest, we should arrive before those waiting for us get tired.”

“Yes.”

The Southern Edge Sect’s disciples resumed climbing again.

After climbing the mountain for a long time, the disciples, who had almost arrived at Mount Hua, began to say.

“This is hell.”

“We really shouldn’t come next time.”

“If it’s the same as last time, shouldn’t we reach the gate soon?”

Climbing the steep mountain, they would soon find the ruined sect’s gate.

Seeing the end of their long journey, the disciples rushed to the top.

And they arrived.

“Huh?”

“What is that?”

And were taken aback by the sight in front of them.

Surely, when they came here two years ago, Mount Hua’s gate was old and looked like it would fall apart at any moment. The gate didn’t even function as a gate.

But now, that old gate wasn’t there. They were greeted by a massive door that seemed brand new.

‘Am I seeing things?’

‘No way.’

‘This makes no sense. Did someone else come up to Mount Hua and establish their sect here?’

They slowly looked up.

The gate may have changed, but the signboard hanging from the entrance showed that the sect’s name remained unchanged. However, the old signboard that was previously crumbling had been replaced with a new one that proudly bore the sect’s name.

When they saw the name ‘Mount Hua’ in the dragon and snake calligraphy, they felt an unfamiliar pressure fall onto them.

“W-what is this….”

It was well-known that the Eunha Guild had joined hands with Mount Hua.

However, the partnership with Eunha was very recent. It was impossible for the sect to rebuild their front gate in such a short amount of time. Not even the Eunha Guild could accelerate development so much.

“This shouldn’t be possible.”

JIn Geum-Ryong mumbled.

Wasn’t this sect supposed to be even worse than the Beggars’ Union? Was this the same Mount Hua that was ridiculed for being unable to accept disciples, even when the sect opened its gates to search?

What kind of money did Mount Hua possess to build this gate?

“Silence.”

Sama Seung spoke slowly.

“It seems like they begged for money somewhere. But even if they can change the gate, the roots of the sect won’t change. There’s no need to make a fuss out of this.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t act like this changes anything.”

Sama Seung walked towards the gate with a slightly offended expression.

It was then.

Kik!

The huge gates began to open, and a man slowly walked out from inside.

Martial arts head, Hyun Sang.

When he saw the disciples of the Southern Edge Sect approaching, he looked at them.

“You must have been through a lot coming all this way. Elder Sama. I met you once before. I am Hyun Sang, elder of Mount Hua.”

“It’s Sama Seung.”

The elder’s response was very short.

However, Hyun Sang didn’t show any offense and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, Elder Sama.”

“The sect leader hasn’t come out?”

Hyun Sang’s eyes twitched.

“The sect leader is inside.”

“But your guests have traveled from so far away, and he doesn’t even show his face?”

Hyun Sang bit his lip.

Sama Seung is an elder of the Southern Edge Sect.

Although he was a well-known elder with high status, he wasn’t someone esteemed enough for the sect leader to personally greet.

Sama Seung clearly knows that, but asking for the sect leader meant that he was being openly disrespectful of Mount Hua.

Hyun Sang opened his mouth while holding back the anger which was rising in his chest.

“Let’s head in. A banquet has been prepared to welcome the disciples. It might not be enough, but I hope you will forget the long journey you overcame to come here and enjoy it.”

“Banquet? The Mount Hua and Southern Edge conference isn’t about eating and playing.”

“… We understand that.”

“Still, it is fine. Take the lead. I need to meet the sect leader.”

Hyun Sang let out a low sigh.

‘My words don’t seem to be getting through.’

The Southern Edge Sect acted the same in the past, but it wasn’t this extreme. Perhaps, this was being done with some purpose in mind.

But didn’t Hyun Jong already warn the elders not to behave recklessly? Remembering these words, Hyun Sang choked back his anger and smiled.

“Come with me.”

“Hmm.”

Sama Seung entered with small steps. In the meantime, the newly built gates caught his eye.

‘Looks like they got some support.’

It seemed like some blind fool threw quite a bit of money into Mount Hua. So, the sect used the money to deal with the most urgent issues. The first thing they worked on were things that people could see, like the gates.

But the internal buildings couldn’t be…

“What?”

Those who entered the gate let out a gasp.

“T-training hall?”

“When?”

They could clearly see that the training halls were all newly rebuilt with blue tiles laid out over the spacious area as they entered the gate.

‘T-they repaired all of this?’

No, was it all new?

Did the God of Wealth descend on Mount Hua?

“It’s better than the Southern Edge Sect.”

The slight murmur that someone from behind whispered represented the feelings of everyone present. Compared to this, even the Southern Edge Sect looked shabby.

Just two years ago, Mount Hua and everything within were crumbling and in ruins. When did such a dramatic change occur?

Sama Seung’s face contorted as he came to a halt.

As the elder stopped walking, Hyun Sang looked back and asked.

“Is something wrong?”

“Doesn’t it seem like a lot has changed?”

Hyun Sang smiled and answered.

“Good things have happened.”

“Does Mount Hua still have someone that supports you? I hope that such a prestigious sect wouldn’t resort to fraud or thievery.”

Instantly, Hyun Sang’s face burned red with fury.

Even if the sect leader had ordered them to maintain peace, this was an intolerable remark.

“Be careful of what you say—”

It was then.

“Fuck you! Do you have a death wish!?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the voice that came from the side.

Sama Seung’s face went stiff, seeing the scene unfolding in front of him.

‘W-what is he doing?’

His eyes caught sight of a series of disciples running like horses. It appears they had been training for a long time. Their robes were drenched in sweat, and their expressions seemed like they would faint any moment; despite that, they continued to press forward with staggering legs.

It was a bizarre sight.

However, that wasn’t where Sama Seung was looking.

He stared at the one that interrupted their conversation.

Next to the running group stood a person in clean clothes with a calm expression. Unlike the others, he ran with the group as if he was taking a brisk walk.

A small child.

Sama Seung, who looked at the child, asked in a hoarse voice.

“What did you just say?”

Chapter Text

The disciples of Mount Hua, exhausted and on the verge of collapse from their frantic run, came to a sudden stop. Unfortunately for them, they halted right as the Southern Edge Sect arrived at the same location.

Chung Hwa, who had been standing behind the third-class disciples with his arms crossed, looked up at the situation with mild interest. Unlike his fiery sajae, Chung Myung, he appeared unfazed, his deep red hair fluttering slightly in the wind as he casually observed.

Standing next to the third-class disciples, Chung Myung awkwardly tilted his head and looked at Sama Seung.

“Me?”

A face that didn’t seem to understand anything. Seeing the child’s attempt to act innocent, Sama Seung asked again.

“I asked you, what did you just say?”

“Oh, that.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chung Myung kicked the already staggering Jo Gul’s shin.

“Ack!”

“Fuck you! Do you have a death wish!? Can’t you run straight!?”

“I am your Sahyung, you jerk!”

“Ah, I forgot for a second there.”

Chung Myung scratched his head and grinned as he looked at Sama Seung.

“That must be what you heard. So embarrassing.”

“…”

Sama Seung glared at Chung Myung, venom dripping from his gaze.

Sitting back, Chung Hwa couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his sajae causing another commotion. The others were visibly uncomfortable with the situation, but Chung Hwa merely raised an eyebrow. There was something oddly satisfying about watching Chung Myung poke the Southern Edge Sect members like that, especially given their reputation.

Sama Seung, however, was not stupid enough to misunderstand who those words were directed at. There was no way he would be deceived by a child and his antics.

“This…”

At that moment, someone gently tugged on Sama Seung’s sleeve. At this, he stopped himself from speaking and glanced back.

It was Jin Geum-Ryong.

“Elder, nothing good can come from arguing with a child.”

“Hmm.”

Sama Seung sighed and nodded. Despite the anger bubbling within him, he knew better than to lose composure, especially in front of someone as childish and unpredictable as Chung Myung. The exchange had already been embarrassing enough.

Jin Geum-Ryong stepped forward.

“Who is this young disciple?”

“Who am I? Would you even know if I told you?”

“…”

Jin Geum-Ryong looked at Chung Myung with blank eyes. The way he spoke reminded him of a kid with no understanding of the weight of his words. But before he could respond, Chung Hwa stepped forward, his presence shifting the energy around them slightly.

“My sajae here tends to speak before thinking,” Chung Hwa interjected smoothly, his black eyes observing the Southern Edge elder with a calm yet sharp gaze. “But I assure you, his intentions aren’t as misplaced as they seem. He is... passionate, if nothing else, also his name is Chung Myung.”

Chung Hwa's voice was warm, almost lulling, but there was an undeniable firmness in it, something that made the Southern Edge Sect disciples pause before speaking further.

“I see. Disciple Chung Myung,” Jin Geum-Ryong repeated, his eyes flicking between the two Mount Hua disciples. “But it seems like disciple Chung Myung never learned proper manners.”

Chung Myung picked his ears, whistling without a care in the world.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you very well. Could you come closer and speak up a bit?”

“… what did you say?”

“Are you deaf? Come closer and talk to me. Can’t you hear?”

Jin Geum-Ryong’s face hardened, but it was Chung Hwa who gently placed a hand on Chung Myung's shoulder. With a small, composed smile, Chung Hwa spoke, though his tone carried an edge.

“Perhaps you should show a bit more restraint, sajae. The adults are talking.”

Despite his words, there was a glint of amusement in Chung Hwa’s eyes. He was enjoying this far too much, and even his usually composed demeanor couldn’t hide the playful smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

Jin Geum-Ryong clenched his teeth in frustration but was forced to swallow his irritation for the sake of his dignity.

“Aren’t you a third-class disciple of Mount Hua?”

“That’s right.”

“Mount Hua and the Southern Edge Sect have shared weal and woe in the past. Since that’s the case, and since I am the senior, shouldn’t you be the one to come closer to speak? Of course, as long as you have the slightest sense of manners.”

“Ah, really?”

Chung Myung chuckled.

“Then, why didn’t you say that to your elder earlier? If you think that it’s more polite for me to come closer to sasuk, then shouldn’t the elder of the Southern Edge Sect be the one going to visit our sect leader?”

‘Ah, shit.’

Jin Geum-Ryong hastily fell silent, realizing his error. What started as a scolding attempt turned into an unintentional blunder that Chung Myung used to his advantage.

At that moment, Chung Hwa gave his sajae a sidelong glance. He wasn’t sure whether he should scold him for being reckless or praise him for his cleverness. In the end, he did neither, instead enjoying the subtle victory.

Sama Seung, who had been observing, opened his mouth.

“This young man’s mouth doesn’t seem ordinary.”

“Elder.”

“Move.”

Jin Geum-Ryong, gnashing his teeth, stepped back without another word. Sama Seung smiled.

“Since your actions came from your pure-hearted desire to protect your sect leader’s dignity, I won’t hold you accountable this time.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“But you had best remember one thing. Your rudeness and mine aren’t the same. Do you know why?”

“… Well?”

“Because of power.”

Chung Myung frowned.

“I think you should learn to speak more kindly before worrying about being polite.”

“… what a crazy one.”

Sama Seung turned away from Chung Myung and looked at Hyun Sang.

“I apologize for the disrespect earlier.”

“Ah, no. Elder, why are you like this?”

“Now that the child pointed out what I did, wasn’t I being rude? I need to apologize.”

As the Southern Edge Sect disciples began to move again, Chung Hwa stood there, his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his robes. His posture was graceful, and the calm aura around him contrasted sharply with the fiery energy of his sajae. He didn’t need to say anything; his mere presence sent a message that Mount Hua would not be easily trampled.

Jo Gul, still recovering from the repeated kicks, limped forward and muttered under his breath.

“Have you lost it? What the hell are you trying to do?”

“What?”

“That person is an elder of the Southern Edge Sect! Elder! Southern Edge Sect!”

“Yah!”

Chung Myung kicked Jo Gul in the shin again. He struck the same place, and Jo Gul agonized as he clutched his leg.

“Ack!”

“Are you a disciple of Mount Hua? Didn’t you hear the bullshit he was spouting towards the sect leader? You think we should hold back?”

“Do you think we’re enduring because we want to?”

Yun Jong stepped forward, his face stiff.

“Of course, we’re angry, but his words are right. A man without power has no right to point out the flaws of someone who does have strength.”

“Who said we lacked power?”

“…. Huh?”

Chung Myung turned his head and looked at the disciples of the Southern Edge Sect walking away.

‘Those bastards, how dare they.’

It annoyed him that these thieves dared to walk into Mount Hua on their own feet, but worse was their insult to the sect leader. Even though he believed that Hyun Jong wasn’t a true leader, he still represented Mount Hua, and Chung Myung had no tolerance for such disrespect.

Chung Hwa, sensing his sajae’s boiling rage, stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Calm yourself, Sajae. The time to act will come. But for now... we wait.”

Though his words were soothing, the fire in Chung Myung’s eyes didn’t extinguish completely. It was clear this was far from over.

“I tried to be good to them. But those bastards, even in a new life, want to start fights with me.”

“… No, let’s calm down….”

“Chung Myung. Please, I beg of you. Let’s think first and then act. Huh?”

The third-class disciples panicked when they saw the look in Chung Myung’s eyes. They all knew they would be unable to do anything if Chung Myung got angry.

At that moment, Chung Myung shook his head, and behind him, another voice cut through the tension.

“Let him speak, Yun Jong. If anyone’s going to talk sense, it’s Chung Myung.”

Yun Jong’s eyes flickered to Chung Hwa, who stood leaning casually against a wall, his arms crossed with a smug smile on his face. His calm demeanor only seemed to irritate the others more, but there was no denying the truth in his words.

Chung Myung shot a brief glance back at his ‘Sahyung,’ his expression as intense as ever.

“Did all the Sahyungs get a good look?”

“… What?”

“What those bastards are doing. Even if they ignore Mount Hua, there is a limit to it. Are Sahyungs going to endure everything they say?”

“… No, we don’t want to tolerate it either. But how do you….”

“Listen well, Sahyungs.”

Chung Myung spoke with eyes that didn’t stop blazing.

“If you lose to those bastards, you will lose everything.”

“…”

The faces of Yun Jong and all the third-class disciples went pale.

Chung Myung’s eyes were spitting flames.

“You can lose to anyone else. It doesn’t matter where you go or who beats you up. Only those Southern Edge Sect bastards, they are the only ones that you can never lose to. Even if you have to die. Anyone who makes me see such a shameful sight had better be prepared. There will come a day where the one who makes others shed tears of blood will shed tears of blood themselves!”

‘What you’re saying doesn’t fit the situation, you brat!’

‘It is the other way around for us!’

‘You’re the one making us cry bloody tears!’

“Why aren’t you answering?”

Chung Myung asked with eyes sparkling in madness. Just the sight made a chill run down their spine.

“N-No. We want to do that too. But we…”

“What? We what?”

Chung Myung approached the third-class disciples with a frightful glare.

“Are you not confident that you can win?”

“R-rather than that….”

“Are you confident enough to die?”

“…”

“Let me see a single loss. Just one. That’s fine, right. Let’s all die together. You die, and I die too.”

“…”

Chung Hwa, who had been watching the scene unfold with a look of amusement, straightened his posture and finally spoke up, his tone almost a mockery of their hesitation.

“You heard him,” Chung Hwa said, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “If you don’t win against them, you might end up dying by his hands instead. That’s not a situation I’d recommend. Even for a Mount Hua disciple.”

Yun Jong’s eyes widened as he glanced between the two of them, and then lowered his gaze, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

“What Chung Myung is saying is true.” Chung Hwa continued, his voice light, as though he were teasing them. “Lose here, and you're not just dishonoring Mount Hua. You’ll have a whole other problem to worry about.”

The Mount Hua and Southern Edge Sect conference.

An event that was supposed to deepen the friendship between Mount Hua and Southern Edge.

However, now it seemed like blood would be spilled because of one person’s anger.

—

“That little boy….”

Jong Seo-Han glanced back. Jin Geum-Ryong approached him and quietly asked.

“Are you concerned about him?”

Jong Seo-Han whispered, making sure that no one else heard him.

“Rather than being concerned, it feels ridiculous. I don’t know where such a kid came from.”

“Leave it alone.”

Jin Geum-Ryong spoke in a stiff voice.

“It is the privilege of the weak to go wild and crazy without knowing the truth. Only a foal who doesn’t know how high the sky is would act so recklessly.”

“That is true, but….”

“I have no remorse; he acted arrogantly on his own will. Since we’ve come here for the conference, there will be plenty of opportunities for us to punish him in the future.”

“I’d love to see if he can still talk like that once I tear off his mouth.”

Jin Geum-Ryong smiled brightly.

“That isn’t something a virtuous disciple should say.”

“He was the one who started this fight.”

“True.”

To be precise, the Southern Edge Sect started this fight, but Jin Geum-Ryong didn’t bother pointing that out.

“Don’t worry about useless things.”

Sama Seung, who was ahead, spoke in a low voice at that time.

“In the end, a warrior will always speak with his sword. No matter how sharp his tongue may be, nothing will change.”

“Yes, elder.”

“Strength isn’t everything. But this is a place where nothing can be done without power. You all shouldn’t forget that fact.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sama Seung narrowed his eyes.

“This time the conference will be interesting. Seeing them behave so arrogantly, they must have something to believe in. We must be sure to thoroughly trample their beliefs and quash their hope. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Elder!”

Sama Seung nodded his head with a smile.

‘A very interesting one.’

Still, it was somewhat commendable. Even the elders of Mount Hua were fearful about speaking against the Southern Edge Sect, but that young man stepped forward fearlessly…

Sama Seung stopped and looked back.

The disciples who were following him were startled and halted in place.

“Elder?”

“What’s wrong?”

Sama Seung, who was staring back with a fear-inducing gaze, soon calmed his expression.

“No, nothing. It was nothing.”

The elder then turned around while gently waving his hand.

Yet, his face hardened again.

Chung Myung clearly pointed out Sama Seung’s fault. That meant… he’d heard how rude he was to Mount Hua’s sect leader?

‘Then…he heard what I said at the gate from that distance?’

It was such a great distance that Sama Seung hadn’t even known about Chung Myung’s existence.

‘No, that can’t be right.’

He must be mistaken.

‘I must have been nervous. To think such absurd thoughts.’

With a low smile, Sama Seung hurried along.

However, his steps were a little heavier than before.

Chapter Text

“…Are you really doing this?”

“My heart is pounding so hard, I might die.”

“I went to the bathroom twelve times today.”

“Ah, disgusting.”

The third-class disciples couldn’t sleep until late at night.

Tomorrow, the day would finally come.

Until now, there had been no time to think about the conference; they were so focused on their training that even breathing felt like a challenge.

However, after taking a day off from training to preserve their stamina, random thoughts began to dominate their minds.

“Can we really do well?”

“Didn’t Chung Myung say that we could?”

“No, he’s never seen those Southern Edge boys, though.”

“True, but…”

Yun Jong sighed, rubbing his forehead.

He knew the others were anxious about tomorrow, but he couldn’t find the right words to calm them.

‘Because I am going crazy too.’

His heart was pounding as well. It felt like his nerves were getting the better of him. When he turned his head and glanced to the side, even Jo Gul seemed nervous. Everyone else was either fidgeting or pacing, but the anxiety was palpable. No one could sleep in the late hours before dawn, so they all gathered in a corner of the common room, trying to work through their restless energy.

Yun Jong scratched his head and asked, “Chung Myung?”

“Sleeping.”

“… His guts must be made out of iron.”

How could he not be nervous? Was Chung Myung simply immune to it? Or did he not understand nervousness at all? Yun Jong couldn’t figure it out.

Tomorrow was the conference. No, technically, it was today now that midnight had passed.

Just the thought made their hearts race erratically.

“He’s been sleeping for a while,” Jo Gul muttered, a little envious.

“I saw him stretched out like a dead man. He even snores!”

“… I’m envious of him. I’m going crazy here.”

Yun Jong opened his mouth to speak again, but a muffled voice came from the stairs.

“It’s not that I have guts of iron, but your guts are tiny like peas.”

Everyone’s heads shifted toward the stairs in unison. The figure of Chung Hwa stood there, arms crossed, leaning casually against the rail, his expression calm and unaffected.

"You're all worked up over nothing," he said with a slight smirk, completely unbothered by the looming conference. Unlike everyone else, he seemed utterly at peace.

“Chung Hwa?” Yun Jong asked, his tone a little surprised to see him up and about.

Chung Hwa’s gaze swept over the group, and his lips quirked into a playful grin. "Really? You all have nothing to worry about. Do you really think that all this fuss is going to change anything?"

His words were confident, bordering on smug, and they seemed to irritate the others even more. They were on the edge of stress, yet Chung Hwa, like Chung Myung, had a laid-back demeanor that made them feel like they were overreacting.

Yun Jong couldn't help but sigh. "You really aren't worried at all?"

Chung Hwa shook his head slightly, a bemused expression on his face. "Worried about what? The Southern Edge Sect?" He chuckled. "They’re nothing. You’ll see."

The others exchanged uncertain looks, but Chung Hwa’s calmness had an almost contagious effect, and their anxiety seemed to ebb just slightly.

As if on cue, a loud snore echoed from the direction of Chung Myung’s room. Everyone winced, but no one dared to speak.

“He’s been sleeping for a while,” Jo Gul muttered again, eyeing Chung Myung with mild disbelief.

“I’m envious,” Yun Jong said, his voice tired. “He’s got nerves of steel. How does he sleep like that?”

Chung Hwa smirked. "Nerves of steel? He just doesn't care. His way of preparing is… unique."

Yun Jong turned back to the group. "So what do we do now?"

Chung Hwa stretched slightly and shrugged. "What’s the point of worrying now? You’ve trained your hardest. Do you really think one sleepless night will change that?"

Everyone fell silent. Deep down, they knew he was right, but the uncertainty still gnawed at them.

But then, Chung Hwa’s voice broke the silence again. "You should probably sleep. You’ve done everything you can. If you don’t rest, tomorrow will be much harder, and that’s not helping anyone."

Chung Myung's voice suddenly cut through the tension from the hallway, “What are you all still doing up?”

Everyone turned to see Chung Myung standing at the door, already dressed in his training clothes, a tired but determined look on his face.

“Why are you so nervous?” he asked, eyebrows raised in genuine confusion.

Yun Jong opened his mouth to explain, but Chung Myung was already shaking his head.

"Nervousness?” He scoffed. “Nervousness is for people who didn’t prepare enough. But you guys trained hard, didn’t you?”

“… Yes,” Yun Jong muttered, though it felt a little hollow.

“Then that’s enough,” Chung Myung said, his expression hardening slightly. “You did your best. Nothing more can be asked of you.”

Chung Hwa stepped forward, mirroring Chung Myung’s unshakable confidence. “If you think you’ve done everything you can, then there’s no room for doubt. That’s all you need to know.”

Yun Jong swallowed, the words slowly sinking in.

Chung Myung snapped his fingers. “So stop wasting time here. Get some sleep. It’s a skill too.”

The disciples nodded reluctantly. It was hard to shake the anxiety, but the words of both Chung Myung and Chung Hwa seemed to calm them, or at least give them the push they needed.

“But,” Chung Myung added, “I’m not sleeping tonight. Got some training to do.”

The disciples stared at him. "But... today’s the conference!"

He waved off their concerns, his usual carefree smile returning. “So what? The conference will be there tomorrow. But my training? That’s non-negotiable. If I don’t train, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Yun Jong looked at him, exasperated. "Seriously?"

“Seriously,” Chung Myung said, turning to leave.

And with that, he disappeared into the training hall. The third-class disciples looked at each other, half-amused and half-astonished at how unaffected their leaders were.

“Really…” Jo Gul muttered. “What a guy.”

“Well,” Yun Jong said, breathing out a frustrated but relieved sigh. “If he can do it, we should at least try to sleep.”

As the disciples began heading to their rooms, they felt the anxiety of the evening gradually lifting. Chung Myung’s strange brand of confidence, along with Chung Hwa’s calm assurance, had a strange effect. It didn’t make everything feel easy, but it made it feel manageable.

Yun Jong stood by the door, watching the others disappear. He glanced toward the direction where Chung Myung had gone.

‘He’s such a strange guy,’ Yun Jong thought, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

But whatever the outcome of the conference, Yun Jong was sure of one thing: the disciples of Mount Hua had grown stronger under their leadership. It wasn’t just about skill or training. It was about belief.

With that thought, he finally walked toward his room, feeling more confident than before, and eventually, sleep took him.

Chapter Text

The day of the Mount Hua-Southern Edge Sect conference had finally dawned.

Hyun Jong was quietly looking at the second and third-class disciples lined up in front of him.

Seeing the hardened and stiff expressions on the faces of these children, Hyun Jong felt his heart clench. Even the children lined up in front of him understood the weight of their burden at this conference.

Hyun Jong felt as if his heart would break.

He wasn’t sure when things had changed, but this burden should originally have been shouldered by the elders and the sect leader. However, at some time after the initiation of this conference, the responsibility of proving the sect’s worth and defending its honor passed onto the sect’s young disciples.

Hyun Jong believed that even the second-class disciples were too young to carry this duty.

Not to mention the third-class disciples.

Still, he felt infinitely grateful to the children who withheld all complaints and stepped forward despite their worries.

“Sect Leader.”

Hyun Young recognized the anxious atmosphere, and Hyun Jong slightly raised his head.

The sect leader had fallen into sentimental thoughts and left the children standing in silence for too long.

Hyun Jong coughed to ease himself out of his emotional thoughts and spoke with a soft voice.

“Everyone seems nervous.”

Hyun Jong looked at the children and shook his head.

“You don’t have to be so stiff. It doesn’t matter whether we win or lose. All you must do is use this as an opportunity to learn and grow.”

Hyun Jong made eye contact with everyone as he spoke with determination.

“No matter what the outcome may be, you are all the proud disciples of Mount Hua. All you need to do is remember that fact.”

It was crudely spoken.

It was a speech that didn’t rouse their morale or seek to inspire the students to defeat their opponents and bring glory to Mount Hua.

But those words eased the disciples’ tense minds, and their expressions began to soften.

Hyun Jong nodded when he saw that everyone had begun to relax.

“I will keep watching over you. So go.”

With that, Hyun Jong turned and walked away; Hyun Young quickly followed after him.

“You won’t go with them?”

“No matter how difficult this conference may be, there is no need for those who will watch and those who will fight to arrive together. The children must also have things to say between themselves. Let them have their time together.”

“Yes, sect leader.”

Hyun Young signaled to the other elders and Un disciples before they quickly followed Hyun Jong.

As the second-class and third-class disciples sighed, one person stepped forward.

Baek Cheon.

He stood in front of everyone with a determined face.

“Today, we will fight the Southern Edge Sect.”

Baek Cheon’s gaze landed on Chung Myung briefly before returning.

“As the sect leader said, there is no shame in losing. What is shameful is failing to do your best. When we fight, we fight as proud disciples of Mount Hua.”

“Yes! Sahyung!”

“Let’s go!”

With a resolute expression, Baek Cheon led the second-class disciples. A fierce aura of determination emanated from the second-class disciples who followed behind him. Even Yu Iseol, who was farthest back, showed a much more serious visage than usual.

“Ahem.”

Yun Jong snuck out to the front as the second-class disciples headed off.

And the third-class disciples warmly welcomed him.

“What, does the Great Sahyung have something to say?”

“No, let’s just do this. Such days scare me.”

“Haa. Seriously, I heard fighting turns people crazy.”

‘These bastards…’

“Look at you bastards, thinking that I can act like Baek Cheon sasuk!”

“I get it. Let’s move already; my legs hurt.”

“If you’re going to be like this, let’s all say something. Jo Gul Sahyung. Go ahead and stand ahead of us. It will save some time.”

“Uh.”

Yun Jong took a deep breath.

‘They were all such good kids in the past.’

How did things end up like this?

Yun Jong turned his head and looked at the culprit.

Even though a massive event like the conference was happening, Chung Myung looked like he was dying from boredom. His laid-back attitude was typical, but it was hard to ignore the fact that his eyes were practically glazed over.

“Chung Myung.”

“Huh?”

“Do you have anything to say?”

Chung Myung laughed, his usual teasing smile spreading across his face.

“Is there anything worth saying?”

He stretched his arms and yawned, his tone calm.

“Let’s finish this quickly and go eat. Move it.”

Yun Jong unwittingly smiled at Chung Myung’s casual remark.

“Come, you brat.”

He didn’t know about the others, but he was sure of one thing.

Normally, Chung Myung was a madman. But in times like this, Yun Jong felt reassured by his presence.

“Let’s go!”

Yun Jong took the lead and guided everyone to the conference. Following him, Chung Myung’s eyes seemed to glimmer, his steps light and carefree.

As they neared the training hall, Yun Jong couldn't help but notice something peculiar. Among the group, there was someone who had remained completely unaffected by the tension and nerves that had gripped the others.

Chung Hwa.

Despite the weight of the upcoming event and the surrounding anxiety, Chung Hwa remained unbothered. With his calm demeanor and collected posture, he was the perfect image of tranquility. His focus was unwavering, his eyes set ahead, as if he had already calculated everything that would transpire.

Yun Jong turned to him, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. It wasn't just Chung Myung who had this uncanny ability to remain unaffected by everything around him.

“Chung Hwa, you’re quiet as always.”

Chung Hwa nodded, his voice steady and calm. "There's nothing to worry about. We've done everything we can. There’s no point in being nervous now."

Yun Jong couldn’t help but smirk. “You sound just like him.”

Chung Myung turned around and shot him a mischievous grin. “Of course, I taught him well.”

Yun Jong shook his head in disbelief, the realization hitting him.

‘It’s not just Chung Myung who’s like this… Chung Hwa is just as crazy as him.’

The third-class disciples had been fidgeting with nerves, but now, the calming influence of both Chung Myung and Chung Hwa had brought a sense of peace among them. As they arrived at the training hall, Yun Jong glanced over at the two of them. While others were sweating over what might happen, Chung Myung and Chung Hwa remained as if nothing could faze them.

Chung Hwa’s expression seemed relaxed as he observed the proceedings around them. The large crowd, the gathering of influential figures, it all seemed to fade into the background for him, much like it had for Chung Myung.

As they made their way into the hall, a memory flashed through Chung Hwa’s mind. A quiet conversation from a few days ago echoed in his thoughts.

—

“I’m going to Eunha, and I’ll meet with Master Hwang,” Chung Myung had said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You stay here and take care of things. Don’t worry; I’ve got a plan.”

Chung Hwa had simply nodded, his response steady as always. “I’ll leave it to you.”

At the time, he hadn’t asked for details, trusting that whatever Chung Myung was planning would work out. Just as it always did.

Now, as he stood at the threshold of the training hall, the grand audience seated before them, Chung Hwa understood. This was part of Chung Myung’s plan. Bringing in the influential figures of Shaanxi, creating an atmosphere of spectacle, it was all to ensure that Mount Hua’s victory would be witnessed by the right eyes.

Chung Hwa didn’t need to say much. The mere fact that he stood by Chung Myung, unwavering in his calm demeanor, said everything that needed to be said.

—

The conference was ready to begin, and as Un Am took center stage to announce the start, a silence fell over the hall. The disciples of Mount Hua lined up in preparation, their nerves tempered by the presence of the two calmest members of their sect, Chung Myung and Chung Hwa.

Yun Jong took a moment to look at the two of them, a smile tugging at his lips. They were both madmen, in their own ways. And somehow, that madness seemed to be exactly what Mount Hua needed to break through the chaos that was about to unfold.

“Then, let’s begin the Mount Hua-Southern Edge Sect conference.” Un Am’s voice echoed.

And just like that, the Mount Hua-Southern Edge Sect conference commenced, with Chung Myung and Chung Hwa at its heart, ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead.

—

As the intense battle unfolded in front of the audience, Chung Hwa sat beside Chung Myung, watching intently, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos of the arena. He wasn't like the others, eagerly cheering for Baek Cheon. Instead, he observed with a steady gaze, his black eyes flickering only occasionally to his friend beside him.

“Do you think Baek Cheon can do it?” Yun Jong whispered, hopeful but uncertain.

Chung Myung snorted in response, not even bothering to look at the battle. “If you think we’ll win because Baek Cheon is swinging his sword like that... then you’re more naïve than I thought.”

Yun Jong frowned. "But he's been training so hard, hasn't he?"

Chung Hwa, sitting beside Chung Myung, finally spoke, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “Yun Jong sahyung, sometimes effort alone doesn’t cut it.” He leaned back in his chair slightly, his gaze fixed on the fight below. “Baek Cheon’s skills are certainly impressive. He’s worked hard—no doubt about that—but Jin Geum-Ryong is on a different level altogether.”

He paused for a moment, watching as Jin Geum-Ryong deftly dodged Baek Cheon’s attacks with ease. “Jin Geum-Ryong’s speed, his technique, the way he reads the battle... It's not something that can be countered by sheer determination.”

Chung Myung didn’t say anything, but the slight flicker of agreement in his eyes told Chung Hwa everything he needed to know.

Yun Jong, still watching Baek Cheon desperately trying to keep up, looked at Chung Hwa for some sort of reassurance. “But Baek Cheon... he’s the hope of Mount Hua, right?”

Chung Hwa sighed, his tone soft but unyielding. “Hope is a double-edged sword. It can give you the strength to rise, but it can also blind you to the reality of the situation.”

He glanced at Chung Myung for a moment before looking back at the fight. “Baek Cheon still has a long way to go. He’s not quite at the level where he can defeat someone like Jin Geum-Ryong... not yet.”

As the battle continued, Baek Cheon’s movements began to slow, his face twisted in frustration and exhaustion.

Chung Hwa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He’s reaching his limit. The sword technique he’s using... it’s a beautiful display, but it’s not enough. Not against someone like Jin Geum-Ryong.”

Chung Myung shifted slightly in his seat, his voice laced with a hint of disdain. “No matter how flashy you make your moves, it’s all just smoke and mirrors if you don’t have the power to back it up.”

Baek Cheon’s final strike came, a desperate attempt to break through, but Jin Geum-Ryong easily deflected it, landing a decisive blow that sent Baek Cheon crashing to the ground.

Chung Hwa let out a quiet breath, his expression unchanged. “Well... that was to be expected.” His eyes never left the arena. “Baek Cheon’s resilience is impressive, but against Jin Geum-Ryong, it was never going to be enough.”

Yun Jong looked crestfallen, glancing between the fallen Baek Cheon and his two companions. “Then what now? Is there still a chance?”

Chung Myung’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. “A chance? That’s up to us.” He turned to Chung Hwa, who nodded slowly in agreement.

“There’s always a chance,” Chung Hwa added, his voice steady, “but not because of the sword alone. The real question is how we’ll approach the next step.”

Chung Myung leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked on the defeated Baek Cheon. “We don’t fight for victory in a fair battle. We fight to win, no matter the cost.” His voice dropped to a near whisper, but it was filled with purpose. “And we’ll make sure Mount Hua’s name is not forgotten.”

Chapter Text

As Baek Cheon lay bruised and beaten on the floor, struggling to rise, the atmosphere around Mount Hua’s disciples grew tense. The pain in his body was evident, yet his spirit—though faltering—still clung desperately to the hope that one day he could catch up with Jin Geum-Ryong. The mockery from the Southern Edge Sect disciple only made it worse.

Jin Geum-Ryong stood arrogantly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, as if he had done no more than swat a fly.

Yun Jong, standing nearby, was beside himself with frustration, his hands balled into fists. He wanted to leap into the fray, to defend Baek Cheon, but he knew his anger was doing nothing to change the situation.

Chung Myung, who had been quietly watching with a cold expression, let out a bitter chuckle. “If everything could be solved by effort alone, then everyone in this world would be a master. What matters isn’t how hard we try; it’s how we apply that effort.”

Yun Jong’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think Baek Cheon could win, did you?”

Chung Myung glanced over at him. “It’s not about winning. It’s about what comes next.”

Before Yun Jong could respond, the sound of rapid footsteps drew everyone’s attention. In the midst of the turmoil, Chung Hwa stood up, his calm demeanor a sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding him. His deep red hair swayed slightly as he moved with quiet determination.

He didn’t wait for permission or for anyone to ask. As soon as his eyes fell on Baek Cheon, who lay broken and still, he moved forward without hesitation. His eyes—black as the darkest night—locked onto Jin Geum-Ryong for just a moment. There was no fear in them, only cold, eerie calm. Jin Geum-Ryong met his gaze for a split second but quickly looked away, his smirk faltering for an instant.

Chung Hwa’s stare had a chilling quality, like a predator sizing up its prey. Jin Geum-Ryong may have been a talented swordsman, but in that moment, he was just another obstacle to overcome, and Chung Hwa saw him for what he was.

Without a word, Chung Hwa reached Baek Cheon and bent down. He carefully assessed the injuries, his hands gentle as they moved across the battered body of his fellow disciple. The Southern Edge Sect had left their mark, but Chung Hwa wasn’t concerned about their arrogance. He had a different task at hand.

“I’ll be back soon,” he murmured softly to the others, his voice so calm it almost sounded detached. It was as if he was speaking about something as mundane as gathering herbs, rather than dealing with a fallen disciple in the midst of a humiliating defeat.

Lifting Baek Cheon with ease, as though he weighed no more than a sack of flour, Chung Hwa turned to leave the arena. His movements were fluid and precise, and even though he was carrying Baek Cheon with one arm, there was no sense of strain. His focus was on the task ahead, his thoughts only on how to heal his fellow disciple—not on the Southern Edge Sect or the display of arrogance that had just taken place.

Jin Geum-Ryong watched him leave, a sneer still on his face, but there was something unsettling about the way Chung Hwa moved. He didn’t look like someone who had been affected by the defeat. The calmness, the control—Chung Hwa wasn’t rattled by Jin Geum-Ryong’s words or actions. He was, in a way, terrifyingly indifferent to them.

“Are you really that confident?” Chung Hwa’s voice suddenly broke the silence, though he was speaking to no one in particular. His words were soft, almost too soft, but they carried a weight of authority that made even Jin Geum-Ryong pause.

Jin Geum-Ryong blinked and glanced back at the retreating figure of Chung Hwa. There was something in the way he carried himself—something that made even Jin Geum-Ryong, a man used to being in control, feel an odd sense of discomfort.

But before he could react, Chung Hwa was already gone, walking through the crowd with Baek Cheon cradled carefully in his arms.

Back in the arena, the tension only grew. Yun Jong, still seething with anger, looked at Chung Myung.

“Do you really think everything is lost?” he asked, his voice heavy with doubt.

Chung Myung didn’t even flinch. “It’s not about winning or losing, Yun Jong. It's about what we’re going to do next.” He smirked, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling determination. "And we will make sure they never forget this day."

Meanwhile, the crowd buzzed with whispers, most focused on the Southern Edge Sect’s victory. But there were some who couldn’t help but wonder about Chung Hwa’s eerie calmness and his ability to take control of a situation with just his presence.

—

“… Sect leader.”

Hyun Jong just closed his eyes without saying anything.

“… Shouldn’t we stop this?”

Hyun Sang spoke with a trembling voice. But Hyun Jong couldn’t answer him.

Stop?

How does one stop this?

They were in the presence of so many influential leaders.

‘We can’t handle the Southern Edge Sect. If we continue, the children will only get injured, so it might be better to end this now.’

Was that what he should say?

That would be a complete disgrace to Mount Hua’s name.

Even if Mount Hua was on the verge of collapse… no, since they were on the verge of collapse, they have something they must absolutely protect. Their name and their pride.

If they were unable to safeguard their pride and the reputation of their name, then Mount Hua would no longer be a top-class sect facing ruination. They would truly become a third-rate sect undeserving of respect.

That would be the moment that Mount Hua truly collapses.

Hyun Jong couldn’t allow that. Not for the sake of his own honor but to protect the possibility that Mount Hua could someday be revived. So, as the sect leader, he could only remain silent in this situation.

However, the circumstances were so bad that even Hyun Sang, who understood Hyun Jong’s plight, couldn’t help but speak out.

Consecutive losses.

Nine times in a row.

They had already achieved the worst outcome of any conference yet. But the biggest issue wasn’t about winning or losing, but the content of the battles.

Nine disciples went forward, and not a single one of them could even touch their opponent. It was like watching a child challenge an adult. No, maybe that would be less tragic than this.

All the important leaders of Shaanxi were watching.

‘How can we handle this disgrace?’

Hyun Jong’s eyes trembled.

It felt like his five viscera were being torn apart inside his body. It wasn’t the humiliation that bothered him; it was the despair his disciples were experiencing.

Unable to gauge the strength of their opponent, they pushed these children into this hopeless battle. Thinking of the emotional impact this would have on the children, who suffered because of the incompetent elders, the sect leader wanted to chop himself to pieces.

“Sect leader…”

Hyun Jong opened his eyes as he let out a sigh.

“… this is saddening.”

“But…”

“Aren’t you upset with me?”

It was then.

“kuak!”

The last of the second-class disciples fell to the floor as his sword fell from his hand.

For a swordsman to lose their sword is a greater disgrace than death. The Southern Edge Sect’s disciple was so skillful that they only aimed for the wrist until they achieved their desired results.

“I don’t understand how a swordsman could let go of his sword. Doesn’t Mount Hua teach you what that means?”

Mockery.

Even with such insulting ridicule, no one could speak out.

Ten consecutive losses.

There was no result more disastrous than this. The faces of Mount Hua’s elders were horribly contorted.

‘Did it have to turn out like this?’

They thought they had finally gotten the opportunity to resurrect Mount Hua. Good things have constantly been happening lately.

But they were too immersed in their dreams; they forgot how cruel reality is. In the end, Mount Hua is a martial sect. Any luxury is meaningless if it isn’t supported by strength.

Everyone there became keenly aware of this harsh fact.

“Well done!”

“Yes, elder!”

Sama Seung patted Ark Ho on the shoulder.

This result was satisfactory.

Not only did everyone win, but every battle was entirely one-sided. The most encouraging aspect was that this was accomplished in full view of Shaanxi’s officials.

‘Now Mount Hua’s fame will fall to the ground and never rise again.’

Hadn’t they dreamed of this situation countless times over the past few generations? Sama Seung felt honored that he would be present to witness the sect’s long-cherished desire be fulfilled.

Perhaps by now, the audience understood the situation.

Unsurprisingly, murmured gossip could be heard.

“This is too one-sided.”

“Still, I had some expectations for Mount Hua… it seems that the past is the past, and the present is the present. Mount Hua can no longer be thought of as it was in the past.”

“Didn’t we already know that?”

“Still, this is too miserable… in fact, I really can’t tell if the Southern Edge Sect is strong or if Mount Hua is just too weak.”

“Isn’t it both?”

“A pity. So unfortunate. It seems like Mount Hua is really finished. All in vain….”

Sama Seung smiled as he heard it.

Public opinion had shifted towards the Southern Edge Sect. However, Sama Seung’s purpose here wasn’t to elevate the name of his sect; his goal was to send Mount Hua plummeting into the abyss.

To do that, even the sprouts needed to be burned to the ground.

“Now, it is time to end this. Did you see what your seniors did?”

“Yes, elder!”

The third-class disciples of the Southern Edge Sect looked determined.

“Do not hesitate.”

Sama Seung’s eyes shone.

“A lion does its best even when hunting a rabbit. Do not show mercy. You need to destroy them so horribly that they never think of learning martial arts again.”

“Yes! I will keep that in mind!”

Sama Seung looked up at the sky with a sly grin.

‘Such a clear day.’

And such a good day too.

“…”

Yun Jong was at a loss for words.

He couldn’t bear to look at the second-class disciples gathered on the side. Even without seeing their expressions, he could tell how much despair they were drowning in.

And it was the same for the third-class disciples.

‘The difference between our sects is this big?’

The conferences held until now also ended in defeat, but it was never like this. It was never so one-sided. This conference gave off the feeling of a man casually stepping on a gathering of ants.

That was when they realized that Mount Hua had never dealt with the true Southern Edge Sect.

“… is it our turn?”

“…”

The faces of the third-class disciples darkened.

It was true that they trained under Chung Myung, but the gap in abilities that they witnessed completely crushed their confidence.

No, everyone has probably given up…

That wasn’t even the main problem…

Yun Jong looked at Chung Myung, who was sitting next to him.

And gasp! He held his breath.

Crack!

The sound of teeth gnashing made his heart sink. Chung Myung’s face was boiling red like it would explode.

“…”

Every time one of the seniors was defeated, Chung Myung’s face would turn a slightly deeper shade of red; he now looked like a red plum.

Seeing Chung Myung’s face, Yun Jong grabbed the hem of his uniform.

‘This bastard is going to lose control soon.’

Three years in the temple, and one becomes good at reciting scripture. Three months next to Chung Myung, and one will become a master of reading the room!

Yun Jong spoke with a trembling voice.

“Chu—Chung Myung, let’s calm down.”

“… calm down?”

When Yun Jong heard Chung Myung’s crooked voice, he felt his heart sink… no, he couldn’t give up! This was a conference between two sects! Not just the sect leader, but the people of the Southern Edge Sect and Shaanxi are watching!

If this guy had lost control, something even worse than the second-class disciples losing would happen.

Yun Jong began to look at Chung Myung as if trying to soothe a rabid dog.

“Ch–Chung Myung. Think carefully. Remember what you said yesterday. In order for a person to accomplish great things, patience is the most important thing!”

“… patience.”

“Right! Patience!”

“… Sahyung.”

“Yes, Chung Myung. I remember those words well….”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

Chung Myung turned his head slowly, very slowly, to the side and matched Yun Jong’s gaze.

And

Yun Jong saw him.

Chung Myung’s eyes were half out of control.

“… I.”

Chung Myung growled like an animal and stood up.

“Don’t have any sense of patience in me!”

That isn’t something to be proud of.

You bastard!

Un Am took a deep breath. His face was pale, no longer able to handle this. He wanted to walk out and leave. But, unless the sect leader instructed him, he couldn’t stop.

“Next… we will hold the exchange of the third-class disciples. Of them—”

It was then.

“Catch him! Don’t ever let go of him!”

“Chung Myung! You’re supposed to go last!”

“People are watching! People are watching! Please! Don’t do this!”

Un Am was bewildered as he looked at the third-class disciples.

It seemed like they were united in trying to block someone as that person continued to push forward with glistening eyes.

‘Chung Myung?’

What’s wrong with that kid?

Un Am had his doubts, but he had to finish his speech. This was his role, and there were many people watching.

“So, the vanguard is—”

“Kuaaaak!”

But Un Am’s words were cut off once again.

As soon as he tried to announce the competitors, Chung Myung escaped from his sahyungs’ clutches and jumped forward.

“Phew.”

Chung Myung stepped into the arena and took a deep breath. Then he looked to the Southern Edge Sect’s side and spoke.

“One of you, quickly get up here!”

“…”

“Anyone works. Come up quick.”

Sama Seung spoke.

“… that crazy bastard!”

He knew that this child was crazy, but this was a whole different level. Not just the Southern Edge Sect, but he even dared to speak such arrogant words in the presence of Shaanxi’s officials!

“Elder, calm down.”

Jin Geum-Ryong quickly stopped Sama Seung from losing his composure.

“We can’t run around and fall into his pace. He’ll be in pain soon enough.”

“Hmmm!”

Seeing that Sama Seung was still greatly displeased, Jin Geum-Ryong coughed and called out.

“Woo-Ryang!”

“Yes, Sasuk!”

Seon Woo-Ryang, the disciple chosen to deal with Chung Myung, resolutely nodded his head.

“The schedule has changed, but it doesn’t make any difference to us. Complete your role.”

“Yes! Sasuk! Don’t worry!”

Seon Woo-Ryang grabbed his wooden sword and quickly arrived in front of Chung Myung.

Then, he aimed his sword at Chung Myung.

“I will crush that arrogant mouth of yours. I’m Southern Edge Sect’s…”

Instantly, Chung Myung disappeared from where he stood and manifested in front of his foe.

“Seon—”

He saw it.

A furious Asura-like visage appeared in front of him. The figure seemed like it was coated in darkness.

Darkness?

In broad daylight…

Ah, it wasn’t dark; something covered his sight. Since it was right in front of him, this…

‘Is a fist?’

At that moment.

Unlike anything the crowd had heard since entering Mount Hua, an explosive sound echoed throughout the hall.

Paaaaakkkkkkkk!

It rotates!

Seon Woo-Ryang’s body spun through the air more than a dozen times before falling to the ground.

“…”

Seon Woo-Ryang’s body, which was plastered to the floor, convulsed pitifully as if he had some medical condition.

Seeing his collapsed enemy, Chung Myung spoke as if dumbfounded.

“I’m not joking around.”

I am going to make you all beg for death.

Chung Hwa, who had just returned after tending to Baek Cheon's wounds, stood at the edge of the hall and silently observed the chaos unfolding. The sight that greeted him was none other than Chung Myung, wildly struggling in the grasp of the third-class disciples, eyes blazing with fury.

He blinked once. Then again. Slowly, he raised a hand and pressed it to his forehead with an exasperated sigh.

“…Chung Myung-ah.”

His voice was soft—almost fond—but layered with the unmistakable weight of someone who had lived far too long to be surprised anymore.

He shook his head.

“I left for barely 40 minutes.”

The corners of his lips twitched upward for the briefest moment as he muttered to himself, “Should’ve known better.”

With a long, steadying breath, Chung Hwa stepped forward, the calm center in a storm of rising tempers.

Chapter Text

A roaring sound that nobody could have heard in their lives.

The audience gathered at Mount Hua discovered that the collision between a human’s fist and another’s face could create such a violent sound.

And rotate.

Seon Woo-Ryong, who was hit, rotated in the air and…

Swisssh!

Blood poured from his nose like a waterfall as his body spun through the sky.

“Ah,” a quiet voice said among the Mount Hua crowd, “I think I saw a rainbow.”

Everyone turned.

Chung Hwa stood there, munching on a crispy mooncake like this was the greatest theater performance in the world.

“A rainbow made of blood. How poetic. Very seasonal. I give it a 7 out of 10. Could’ve spun faster.”

Yun Jong gave him a look.

“You’re enjoying this?”

“I’m appreciating it,” Chung Hwa corrected, brushing crumbs from his sleeve. “You know, there’s a difference.”

Seon Woo-Ryang, spinning like a bloody windmill, fell to the floor and convulsed. Looking at the young disciple’s state, Chung Myung’s voice rang clearly in their ears.

“I’m not joking around.”

Chung Myung spat on the floor and pulled out the wooden sword around his waist.

“Get up, you son of a bitch. I’m not finished yet. My anger doesn’t die with one hit!”

Chung Myung was roaring like a lion, but it was far from regal…

“Such dirty and petty words,” Yun Jong muttered.

“Delightfully crude,” Chung Hwa said cheerfully. “Like fermented radish water. You think it’ll kill you, but it grows on you.”

Sama Seung’s beard trembled.

‘W-what is this….’

Even though he didn’t care about the third-class disciples’ battles, did it make sense for an elder to miss the movement of such a young disciple?

No, no. It can’t be!

But the longer he stared, the more his brain screamed, Yes, it can.

“You cowardly bastard!”

“Making a surprise attack when he was speaking! Mount Hua must not have any shame!”

“Mount Hua should be ashamed!”

Chung Hwa popped a bite of dried persimmon into his mouth and lazily flicked his fan open.

“Ah, yes. The classic ‘How dare you not give my junior time to do his dramatic monologue’ argument. Very traditional.”

The Southern Edge Sect disciples turned to glare at him. Chung Hwa just blinked back with wide, innocent black eyes.

“Hmm? Oh, I apologize. I thought we were here to fight. My mistake.”

Seon Woo-Ryang staggered to stand up and spoke through painful gasps.

“I-I can still fight….”

“But you’ll die?”

Chung Myung looked mildly horrified.

Chung Hwa gave a sympathetic shake of his head.

“Poor child. He’s leaking like a cracked gourd.”

Drip! Pour!

“This is why you should always warm up before swinging a sword—or a tantrum,” he muttered.

“The blood isn’t stopping….”

“You’re going to die! You brat!”

“Honestly, if he dies like this, I’m not sure if we should mourn him or just add him to a cautionary scroll,” Chung Hwa said. “I could draw a diagram: ‘How not to fight Chung Myung.’ Step one: don’t.”

Un Am looked helpless, and Chung Hwa gave him a consoling pat on the back.

“It’s okay, Sasuk. The first time is always messy.”

The moment Seon Woo-Ryang shoved cloth into his nose and raised his sword again, Chung Hwa let out a dramatic sigh.

“Bravery is admirable. Stupidity, less so.”

Seon Woo-Ryang cursed, his words jumbled with blood.

“I’ll tear you apart and feed you to the dogs!”

Chung Hwa folded his arms.

“Charming.”

Chung Myung frowned.

For now, he was going to erase the compliments he had given them from his memory.

“Is cursing at others the only thing you Southern Edge disciples learn? Maybe you just lack the wisdom to understand.”

-Are you really saying that?-

Ah, seriously! Don’t come out whenever you want, Sahyung!

Chung Myung clenched his sword.

“I’ll crush you so badly your parents won’t recognize you!”

Chung Hwa’s expression flattened.

“…Someone should tell him his face already did that to itself.”

Then came the second round.

Seon Woo-Ryang moved sharply, regaining some of his composure.

Chung Myung, however, moved like a shadow—and his sword moved even faster.

Paaaakkk!

The wooden sword slammed onto Seon Woo-Ryang’s head.

‘I am dead.’

‘He might die.’

‘That child is dead.’

Paaak!

Paaak!

“Kids these!”

“Days don’t!”

“Have manners! No manners!”

“Even I wasn’t like that back in my day!”

“Lies,” Chung Hwa said under his breath with the straightest face. “Lies and mooncake crumbs.”

Finally, with one last Paaang! to a very inappropriate place, Seon Woo-Ryang fell, again.

Chung Myung clicked his tongue.

“If you didn’t curse at me, I would have been gentle with you. But kids these days, no manners!”

Chung Hwa cupped his hands around his mouth and called out with mock cheer:

“You tell them, Sajae! Break their bones and their spirits!”

Then, as Chung Myung returned to his side, Chung Hwa discreetly held out a handkerchief.

“For the blood.”

Chung Myung blinked.

“Why do you have that ready?”

Chung Hwa only smiled. “Who knows.”

Even Sama Seung, Jin Geum-Ryong, and others stood frozen, staring at the two monsters from Mount Hua.

“What the hell was that….”

But no one there knew that this was just the beginning.

No one, except for Chung Myung…

…and maybe Chung Hwa, who was already scribbling down title ideas for this spectacle in a little leather notebook:

> 'Blood Rainbow Sonata – First Movement.'

—

Chung Myung sat down with a smug expression as the sunlight fell on him.

The burning irritation which had colored his expression earlier had vanished, and in its place was a relaxed face that looked as though it had just returned from a countryside stroll rather than a fistfight.

Chung Hwa, who had been perched like a lounging cat a few steps behind the group, sighed as he nibbled on a small mooncake he had pulled from his sleeve.

“…He looks like he just finished harvesting a field, not someone who broke a kid’s face.”

The third-class disciples erupted with cheers.

“Chung Myung! You did well!”

“Shouldn’t you have stomped on him a little more?”

“I think he lost at least ten years of his lifespan!”

Chung Hwa blinked slowly at the cheering.

“I swear, I blinked once and missed the moment of impact. Are we sure that was a fist and not a divine punishment?”

The sajaes were in a frenzy, but Yun Jong couldn’t help smiling.

‘I guess they are all true masters.’

Had this been before, they might’ve condemned the brutality or agonized over morality. But now? Now they were practically hosting a festival. They had been thoroughly infected by Chung Myung’s madness.

Chung Hwa tilted his head and muttered under his breath, just loud enough for those near him to hear.

“This place really changed. A year ago, they were fighting over whether soy sauce was better than sesame oil. Now they’re arguing over whether to add an extra stomp after the KO.”

Even Yun Jong, watching the group cheer, had to chuckle. “Chung Myung, you did well.”

“Well, I just had a little fun.”

“A little,” Chung Hwa echoed with an arched brow. “You nearly gave the boy a second baptism—by blood.”

The second-class disciples also gathered around, laughing and cheering despite themselves. Their pride, once stomped on by the Southern Edge Sect, was finally being soothed. Even those who had once viewed Chung Myung with caution now looked at him with newfound appreciation.

‘So cheeky.’

‘If he’s that strong, let him be cheeky!’

‘Maybe he is a good kid—just hidden under a thick, violent shell.’

Chung Hwa clicked his tongue and sipped at a pouch of medicinal tea he'd snuck in.

“He’s like, if rabies became a person. No manners, but unfortunately, extremely efficient.”

Chung Myung puffed up at the praise, then turned to Yun Jong with an overconfident smirk.

“Sahyung!”

It was a firm voice. Yun Jong nodded solemnly.

‘It’s my turn.’

“Right,” he murmured. “Any advice?”

Chung Myung tilted his head like he was thinking hard. Then—

“Would you be able to use it even if you knew?”

“…I walked into that one.”

Chung Hwa held up a hand in mock seriousness. “Tip from your friendly neighborhood hyung: If the opponent looks smarter than they are, they’re probably just well-fed.”

Yun Jong groaned. “Helpful.”

“You’re welcome,” Chung Hwa said serenely, taking another mooncake bite.

Yun Jong turned to step forward, his gaze sharpening. The tension from the crowd pressed on him like a wave.

He could feel the change in atmosphere.

Mount Hua, once dismissed and mocked, was now being watched. They weren’t just underdogs anymore—they were unpredictable.

Taking a deep breath, Yun Jong hardened his resolve.

Behind him, Chung Myung’s voice rang out.

“Sayung.”

He turned, bracing for the usual nonsense.

“If you lose, I’m going to kill you.”

“…Ah.”

Yun Jong closed his eyes.

‘I forgot. I forgot what kind of person this brat is.’

And from the side, like a supportive but deeply sarcastic big brother, Chung Hwa chimed in gently.

“I’ll hold the shovel.”

“…”

“I’m joking. Probably.”

With a deep breath and a sigh full of resignation, Yun Jong walked to the center of the arena. He drew his sword with conviction.

“Yun Jong, third-class disciple of Mount Hua, asks for an opponent from the Southern Edge Sect!”

As he raised his blade, the winds seemed to shift.

The world had started laughing at Mount Hua.

Now, Mount Hua was starting to laugh back.

Chapter Text

“He’s…!”

“How dare he speak like that!”

The reaction was instant and explosive.

Jin Geum-Ryong clenched his teeth. While he was still trying to make sense of the shocking defeat, Yun Jong had the audacity to step forward and demand the next bout. That cheeky move made Jin Geum-Ryong’s blood pressure spike.

On the other hand, Yun Jong slightly flinched at the sudden outburst from the Southern Edge Sect’s side.

‘Maybe I overdid it a little?’

Sure, it was a duel, but he might’ve lit a fire under their egos a bit too much.

Still, he had to do it.

Someone had to keep the momentum Chung Myung started rolling.

Jin Geum-Ryong’s face twisted.

“Gong-Jin! Gong-Jin!”

“Yes, Sasuk!”

“Go! Smash that cocky bastard and bring back some pride!”

“Yes!”

As Gong-Jin stepped forward, Jin Geum-Ryong glared daggers at Chung Myung.

‘Chung Myung, you lunatic!’

He didn’t expect Seon Woo-Ryong to lose that badly. Was the disciple weak? No—he was the strongest of their third-class disciples. Which only meant one thing…

‘That crazy bastard is just ridiculously strong.’

It was frustrating beyond belief. But at least there was still a chance. If they could win the rest, they’d walk away with a solid record—Mount Hua’s little monster would just be a freak incident.

Gong-Jin took to the stage, drawing his wooden sword with confidence.

Yun Jong exhaled slowly.

‘He’s my opponent again?’

He had lost to Gong-Jin in the previous conference—badly. That defeat still haunted him. He had been helpless back then, not even able to land a decent strike.

But that was before Chung Myung showed up and started ruining lives and rebuilding disciples.

And now?

‘I won’t lose like that again.’

He was the great sahyung of Mount Hua’s third-class disciples. He had his own pride to protect, even if everyone suspected Chung Myung was the true ringleader now.

Gong-Jin narrowed his eyes.

“No words. I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Same here.”

“Then shut up and get hit!”

He rushed in, sword flashing.

‘Fast.’

Gong-Jin’s sword was sharp, direct, and fast—just like before. But this time…

Clang!

Yun Jong blocked it.

“Huh?”

Even Gong-Jin paused.

He hadn’t expected that.

Yun Jong kept his calm, sword steady as he parried the next strike.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each hit was fast and heavy. Gong-Jin had definitely improved—Yun Jong could feel it in the weight behind every strike.

And yet…

‘Why can I see it?’

Two years ago, he couldn’t even follow Gong-Jin’s movements. Now, every step, every twitch of the shoulder—he could predict the direction and flow.

‘How…?’

From the audience, Chung Hwa raised an eyebrow.

“…Is he doing this on purpose?” he mumbled, munching on a mooncake shaped like a gourd.

“Who?” Chung Myung asked.

“Yun Jong. He’s moving like he can see the sword, but with the dramatic pauses of a stage actor.”

“…That’s just how he fights.”

“…He’s got flair.”

Gong-Jin’s sword sliced down again, but Yun Jong avoided it with a single step and kicked Gong-Jin squarely in the side.

Thud!

He went flying.

Yun Jong blinked.

“…Did I just do that?”

He looked toward the Mount Hua side—specifically at that person.

Chung Myung yawned as if he were about to fall asleep.

And next to him, Chung Hwa, who was now sipping tea out of a wooden gourd cup, muttered, “Hmm. That’s the look of a man who just realized he’s been unknowingly experimented on for six months.”

Yun Jong muttered under his breath.

“That crazy bastard… what did he do to us?”

Gong-Jin, now red with rage, launched himself forward again.

But Yun Jong calmly planted his feet.

The Equilibrium of Six Sword.

The form he drilled for ten painful days straight under the not-so-gentle guidance of Chung Myung.

The moment Gong-Jin’s sword twitched—

Swish!

Yun Jong’s sword moved.

Three things flowed into one: a focused mind, a trained body, and a desire to smack Gong-Jin in the ego.

Clang!

Gong-Jin’s sword flew through the air and landed with a sad little thud somewhere behind the stage.

Silence.

Then chaos.

“WAAAHHHHH!”

“We won! Yun Jong Sahyung won!”

“HOLY—THAT’S OUR SAHYUNG!”

Even the elders were barely holding it together.

Hyun Sang tried to run toward Yun Jong, but Hyun Young grabbed him by the robe.

“Sahyung, no. Compose yourself!”

“Let me go! I’m going to cry on his shoulder!”

“Sect Leader!”

Hyun Young turned and shrieked.

Hyun Jong was swaying on his feet, smiling like he’d finally found peace.

“Sect Leader! Come back to the light! Don’t follow it yet!”

“I can go now… my soul is fulfilled…”

“NO, YOU CAN’T!”

While that chaos raged, Yun Jong returned quietly to the group, feeling like he could float.

Jo Gul, who was up next, grabbed him with wide eyes.

“Sahyung! How did you—”

“Gul.”

“Yes?”

“Just go.”

“…What?”

“You won’t lose. Even if you try. Just go.”

“…Huh?”

Yun Jong patted him on the back and walked away with the smug confidence of someone who’d finally gotten revenge on their nightmares.

Meanwhile, he sat beside Chung Myung and whispered:

“What the hell did you do to us?”

Chung Myung smiled like a kid caught stealing cookies.

“What?”

“To us! What did you do?”

“Oh that? Nothing much. I just made you win.”

Yun Jong stared at him like he wanted to swing his sword again—but at a different target.

Chung Hwa, who had finished his tea, lazily added, “He's lying. He did everything. You’re lucky you didn’t wake up with muscles growing on muscles.”

“I did get new back pain last week.”

“See? Muscle growth.”

Chung Myung beamed.

“You’re welcome.”

“Goblin bastard,” Yun Jong muttered.

Chung Hwa, with a faint grin, offered Yun Jong a mooncake.

“Take it. It’s called the You Survived Chung Myung Special. Flavored with exhaustion and spiritual trauma.”

“…I’ll eat it later.”

“Wise choice.”

And with that, Jo Gul stepped forward… walking into battle with the quiet confidence of someone who had no clue what was about to happen.

—

“Look there.”

“Huh?”

Chung Myung pointed to the central area and spoke.

While Jo Gul was taking his place, the disciples of the Southern Edge Sect came and retrieved the fallen Gong-Jin.

“What do you think of the Southern Edge sect?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are they strong? Weak?”

“Obviously, they’re strong.”

Chung Myung stared wide-eyed at Yun Jong and asked.

“Then Sahyung defeated such a strong foe?”

“D-Don’t say that. It just happened; what do I know?”

Chung Myung shook his head and giggled.

“Strong. Right, strong. He’s strong for his age, but he’s weak too.”

“… what does that mean?”

“Because he learned so much more than what he should have been taught at that age.”

“Isn’t it good to learn a lot and get used to it?”

“Sahyung.”

Chung Myung reached out and drew the shape of a tower.

“Martial arts are like a tower. How tall you can build a tower depends on how strong the bottom floor and the foundation are.”

“… right.”

“But those people started building the second floor before the first was finished, then they added a third on top of the incomplete second as well. They’re adding weight to the first floor and building taller without strengthening the foundation first.”

“…”

“What do you think will happen if those kids collide with someone who perfectly developed their tower’s ground floor?”

“They’ll collapse.”

“That’s right.”

Chung Myung said,

“All I did was clear away the wood on the first floor Sahyung’s were building and reforged the foundation. It’s difficult to build, but it won’t crumble easily once built.”

“… I don’t understand. Did that training have such meaning?”

“What are the basics of martial arts?”

“Uh?”

Chung Myung’s face grew serious.

“There is one fundamental basic: to use the body to strike down the opponent perfectly. The stem forms from that one root, and then the branches proliferate. I just had Sahyungs focus on developing the roots.”

“Hmm.”

“See.”

Chung Myung pointed to Jo Gul. Jo Gul was facing off against the Southern Edge disciple that just came out.

“An unshakeable lower body, clean swordsmanship, and the eyesight to carefully observe everything happening. And above all….”

Jo Gul’s sword pushes the opponent’s sword and delivers a blow.

“Concentration capable of bringing out all of the body’s power at once.”

Puak!

Chung Myung smiled.

The disciple of the Southern Edge Sect collapsed, and Jo Gul looked at his opponent with a puzzled expression. He turned his head, unable to believe what he had done.

“For now, that is all you need. With that one alone, you can defeat all the kids your age.”

Of course, that isn’t all.

They also took the pill that Chung Myung gave them. By following through with Chung Myung’s training regime, the disciples managed to create bodies that were second to none.

If they didn’t lag behind in physical strength and internal qi, their battles were bound to be decided by their swordsmanship. And anyone who faced them without a solid foundation was destined to fall before them.

Jo Gul returned and looked at Chung Myung with blank eyes. Following his lead, another disciple from Mount Hua went forward.

Totally confident.

He was full of desire to fight and bring honor to their sect.

“I still don’t understand. If it’s that easy… then why don’t the other sects train like that?”

“Easy?”

Chung Myung shook his head.

“Was the training until now easy?”

“N-No. I didn’t mean that, but conceptually….”

“Sahyung.”

“Yes?”

“Sahyung must have studied, right? To be in good form, take rest, take care of one’s parents sincerely, and not deceive the weak or be greedy for riches. Above all, be polite to others, respect those below you, live life without losing yourself, keep your friends close, and be loyal to the nation. Can you do all of that?”

“No.”

“Why? Isn’t that how you become a true man?”

“That…”

Yun Jong stayed silent. He knew what Chung Myung was talking about.

Everyone knows what it means to be an exceptional man. However, only two or three people in the nation can follow every tenet throughout their entire lives. Such a small number within this vast nation.

In other words, despite knowing what it takes, ordinary people cannot do it.

“Constant water dripping down can pierce a rock. Always devote yourself and work hard. Nothing is more important than effort. The ancestors endlessly emphasize hard work and dedication. Do you know the reason?”

“Well…”

“Because people can’t do that.”

Chung Myung had a bitter smile.

In fact, Chung Myung was the same in the past. He always craved stronger swordsmanship and fame, even though his Sahyung constantly nagged him about concentrating on his basics.

Even in Chung Myung’s final moments, he sought higher ground and never looked down.

Only after death did he realize.

“Train to the point of death, push past your limits and devote yourself to it again and again. It might sound like nonsense….”

Chung Myung pointed to the central area.

Gasp!

Mount Hua’s disciple was causing the Southern Edge Sect’s disciple to falter and retreat. It was an impressive sight; Mount Hua’s disciple wasn’t giving his foe any chance to attack or recover.

“But, that’s what happens.”

“…”

“Although we know what it takes, people can’t push themselves that hard. Who would choose to do so? After three days, they’d lie down and say they can’t do it, run away, or make some excuse.”

Yun Jong nodded.

Didn’t they also try to escape? It was Chung Myung who grabbed them by the collar and forced them to continue.

“You…”

“Sahyungs did it.”

Chung Myung said firmly.

“This…”

“…”

“After you endured that, the match was already won. There is nothing more to see. Those who only look up without seeing what’s beneath their feet will lose their footing and collapse. If a bird without wings believes that it can fly, it’ll only realize the truth after the jump.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue when he saw the disciple of the Southern Edge Sect being carried away.

“Their feet betrayed them, and now they’ll fall.”

Yun Jong’s eyes trembled.

He thought that the training was being overdone. It wasn’t just once or twice that he wanted to curse Chung Myung for his vicious methods.

But he endured. He persevered until the end, hoping that he would grow stronger in some way, but all that training was done with a far-off future in mind?

‘Where the hell did this guy learn all this?’

Yun Jong couldn’t understand Chung Myung at all, but he was certain of one thing.

Paaak!

Another Southern Edge disciple fell to the ground.

Yun Jong knew.

His sajaes weren’t too different. At least, aside from Yun Jong and Jo Gul, the ten disciples representing Mount Hua were all roughly equal in their abilities.

There was such a large difference between the previous disciple and his opponent. So the result of the next battle would be the same.

That meant…

‘We’re going to win?’

Mount Hua’s third-class disciples against the Southern Edge Sect?

Yun Jong could feel it.

They were really winning against those bastards.

“W-we are winning?”

No one responded to Yun Jong’s words. They couldn’t deny what was happening before them, but it wasn’t easy to believe either. It was because they never thought this could happen.

But there was no need for them to believe it.

No matter what Yun Jong or anyone else thought, the result of the conference was real.

One person.

And another

“Achhh!”

Chung Myung smirked, “now it's his time”

Yun Jong looked at Chung Myung, “What do you mean?”

Chung Hwa who was listening everything slowly got up,

“It’s Chung Hwa sahyung's turn” a mischievous smile appeared on Chung Myung's face.

—

The crowd had grown quiet.

Not with shock—but with anticipation.

The Southern Edge Sect only had one disciple left. Mount Hua, contrary to everyone’s expectations, had devastated the competition. And now, stepping up last, was—

“Chung Hwa…”

Yu Iseol muttered softly.

He wasn’t just another disciple.

And across the stage stood the final disciple of the Southern Edge Sect, face pale and hands trembling ever so slightly as he gripped his wooden sword.

The referee- Un Geom signaled for the match to begin.

But Chung Hwa didn’t move.

He stood there, relaxed, one hand resting lightly on his hip, his wooden sword held loosely in the other like it weighed nothing at all.

The Southern Edge disciple gulped and slowly approached, sweat beading down the side of his face.

Chung Hwa tilted his head lazily.

“Is it just me,” he began in a cool tone, “or is it a little early for your legs to be shaking?”

The disciple flinched.

Chung Hwa took a single step forward, and the other man instinctively stepped back.

“Oh. That’s new,” Chung Hwa smirked. “I take a step, and you return it. Should I clap? Are we dancing now?”

Laughter burst from some Mount Hua disciples. Others were too stunned to react.

The Southern Edge disciple gritted his teeth and charged forward with a shout, swinging his sword down with a full-force strike.

Chung Hwa didn’t dodge.

He didn’t block either.

He simply took a half-step to the side and tapped the back of the man’s wooden sword with his own.

Crack!

The angle shifted mid-swing, and the Southern Edge disciple stumbled forward awkwardly, nearly tripping over himself.

Chung Hwa casually moved aside and turned, facing his opponent again, not even raising his sword.

“You don’t feel embarrassed doing that in front of your sect?”

The Southern Edge disciple snarled and charged again, swinging furiously now, each move becoming more and more frantic. But no matter how wild or desperate the strikes, Chung Hwa moved like water—gliding, ducking, spinning just barely out of reach.

Not a single counterattack.

Not even a real guard.

Only gentle movements. Taunting movements.

“You swing like a man who’s never held a sword. And yet I know you’ve trained longer than I’ve been alive—oh wait,” he grinned, “I guess not anymore.”

He let out a sigh.

A very tired sigh.

“Honestly, I was hoping for more of a challenge. But this…”

He raised his wooden sword with a single smooth motion, arm extended. The Southern Edge disciple rushed in one final time, and—

BOOM!

With a casual flick of his wrist, Chung Hwa’s sword connected.

One hit.

Just one.

But the sound echoed like thunder across the arena.

The Southern Edge disciple was launched backward as if struck by a charging bull. His body flew through the air and slammed against the wall very far away.

CRACK!

A cloud of dust billowed where he hit.

He slid down slowly, unconscious, his wooden sword snapped in two beside him.

The referee froze for a moment, stunned, before raising his hand in shock.

“W-winner! Chung Hwa of Mount Hua!”

There was silence.

And then—

A shrill scream signaled the end.

In an instant, the tenth disciples fell.

“Aaaakkkk! We won!”

“All ten! We won them all! Damn it!”

“Chung Myung! We did it! We did it!”

The third-class disciples clenched their fists and cheered. Some even wept. Even the second-class disciples were running to embrace them.

It was like a festival.

Ten wins in a row.

All of Mount Hua’s third-class disciples were victorious.

Ten consecutive victories followed after ten straight losses.

It was evident which side would have better momentum and which side had a greater sense of victory.

The disciples from Mount Hua defeated the third-class disciples of the Southern Edge Sect.

“Chung Myung!”

Yun Jong grabbed his hand with a thrilled expression.

“We won! We won! Thank you! Thanks to you—”

Right when Yun Jong was about to speak words of admiration that he’d kept hidden in his heart, Chung Myung spoke.

“Win?”

An icy air instantly froze the heated atmosphere as Chung Myung’s words escaped.

Everyone’s eyes focused on Chung Myung, who tilted his head to the side.

‘What’s wrong with him now?’

‘Here we go again. This time my heart will stop!’

Seeing their anxious gazes, he said.

“Like this?”

“… again, what more now?”

“We already lost ten times. After winning ten times, doesn’t that make this a draw?”

Right.

“But that…”

“Sahyung doesn’t seem to know.”

“Uh?”

“There’s no such thing as a draw in my vocabulary!”

Chung Myung’s eyes shone again!

‘Ah- please!’

‘The atmosphere is so good, Chung Myung, please!’

“Drawww! A draw with the Southern Edge Sect? I can’t carry that embarrassment all my life!”

He would be cursed to death even after death.

His Sahyung would softly smile down at him and stab away with sharp dagger-like retorts and insults. And what about the other Sahyungs? They would drag him around everywhere and speak about how he came to a draw with the Southern Edge Sect.

‘I’m not going to let that happen.’

Flames ignited in Chung Myung’s eyes.

If he was happy with a draw, he wouldn’t have even bothered starting this battle.

He still hadn’t paid them back for snatching away the Plum Blossom Sword technique. Now he was supposed to send them home with a draw after they insulted Mount Hua and the sect leader the entire time they were there?

That isn’t Chung Myung’s style.

Chung Myung began to laugh.

“This is the beginning. Ahh, just the beginning. Now! They won’t be able to walk themselves home. Hehehe.”

The third-class disciples slowly retreated, seeing Chung Myung’s eyes gleaming in madness.

‘He’s completely lost it.’

‘Was he stabbed to death by the Southern Edge Sect in a previous life? Why does he always go insane when the Southern Edge Sect comes into the picture?’

‘Isn’t this enough? What more are you going to do?’

It was then.

Chung Myung got up from his seat.

There was no smile on his face.

No usual grin.

No mischievous spark in his eyes.

Just a cold, focused silence that made the air around him heavy.

“Hey! Hey! Stop him—” Yun Jong, who had been sitting beside him, jumped to his feet in panic. “Sahyung!”

He reached out instinctively, only to freeze as soon as Chung Myung turned his head slightly.

Not fully.

Just enough for his eyes to meet his.

But the weight behind that gaze was suffocating.

It wasn't the gaze of a playful sajae. It wasn’t the lighthearted madman that had led them through hellish training for months.

It was something deeper. Sharper. Older.

“Sahyung,” Chung Myung said, his voice low and uncharacteristically cold, “From now on… don’t miss a single move of what I do.”

Yun Jong opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out.

“This applies to everyone. Understood?”

He didn’t need to raise his voice.

That quiet intensity spoke louder than any shout.

His words pressed down on their shoulders with the weight of command, not request.

Yun Jong, Jo Gul, and the others slowly nodded, almost in sync, their throats dry.

They watched in silence as Chung Myung walked down the stairs of the stands and toward the central stage. His robes fluttered with each step, but nothing about him looked casual anymore.

He was no longer just their peer.

Not at that moment.

The figure walking ahead was—

The future of Mount Hua.

The shadow of the Great Plum Blossom Sword Saint.
No, not the shadow. The rebirth.

That back, which now moved forward so steadily, would become a sight they would see countless times.

And they would follow it.

Willingly.

No one said anything. Even the elders, who had been seated at a distance in the spectators' area, paused their whispers. Some of the Southern Edge Sect members turned their heads, confused by the sudden silence that had spread through the Mount Hua crowd like a cold wind.

But amid all the tension, there were two people who hadn't moved at all.

Two figures sitting atop the wooden bench just to the side.

They weren’t focused on the stage.

They weren’t shocked.

They were… relaxed.

And silent.

Chung Hwa, who had just finished his overwhelming one-strike match, sat on the edge of the bench with one leg over the other, as if he had just returned from a stroll and not a public beatdown.

His sword, now sheathed again, leaned casually against his shoulder.

From the wide sleeve of his robe, he pulled out a round mooncake, intricately designed with a golden lotus pattern on top.

He held it toward Yu Iseol without a word.

She looked at him, her expression unreadable as always, and took the mooncake with a small nod.

They didn’t need to speak.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence, like seasoned spectators at a theater play they’d already seen the script of.

In front of them, the atmosphere twisted as if anticipating a storm.

“You know,” Chung Hwa finally said, taking a bite of another mooncake, “he’s been holding back until now.”

Yu Iseol glanced at him.

He didn’t clarify who “he” was. He didn’t need to.

“He has that look again,” he added, chewing slowly.

Yu Iseol said nothing, still nibbling on her mooncake. But her eyes never left the arena.

Chung Hwa leaned back a little, resting one arm on the railing behind him, expression calm and strangely nostalgic.

“It’s always like this,” he said softly. “The moment right before he flips the board.”

Below them, Chung Myung stepped into the center of the arena.

He wasn’t announced.

He didn’t need to be.

His presence alone pulled everyone’s attention.

The Southern Edge Sect members instinctively straightened their backs. Some of the third-class disciples stepped back, sensing something wrong.

Chung Myung stood in the middle, hands behind his back, eyes surveying the now-empty space before him.

“I guess,” Chung Hwa murmured, his voice like a breeze on a calm afternoon, “it’s finally time for his fun to begin.”

He broke off another piece of mooncake and offered it in Yu Iseol’s direction.

She silently took it, never once blinking.

And as the sounds of shuffling, muttering, and tense breaths grew louder all around them—

The two of them simply sat there, high above the chaos.

Watching.

Waiting.

And smiling just a little.

Because they both knew—

This wasn’t the climax.

It was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

“Now that I’ve lived to see this, I can greet the ancestors with pride…”

The quiet mutter beside him broke Chung Hwa’s attention from the mooncake in his hand.

He blinked.

“…What?”

He turned his gaze back toward the stage just in time to catch sight of a familiar figure stepping out once again.

The wooden sword at the child’s waist was unmistakable.

So was the confident stride.

Chung Myung.

A brief silence rippled across the crowd like a breeze before a storm.

“Why is that child going out again?”

Chung Hwa tilted his head slightly and popped the last bite of the mooncake into his mouth. Slowly, he chewed. A soft crunch. Sweet bean filling. Hints of osmanthus.

He savored it like it was just another lazy spring day.

In truth, the confusion spreading among the elders and the audience amused him.

He could already see it—the shift. The unraveling tension. The slow tilt of fate, like a pendulum being redirected mid-swing.

He looked at Hyun Jong, whose eyes were wide.

“I think he’s looking this way?”

Chung Hwa’s lips twitched. Yes, he is.

Chung Myung’s gaze was subtle, but there was a glint in it—a familiar one.

It was the look of a man who had just found his opening.

And he intended to leap through it with both feet.

“W-what is he going to do now?”

Chung Hwa did not answer. He merely wiped the crumbs from his fingers with a small silk cloth he pulled from his sleeve. His movements were slow, deliberate. The silence between him and Yu Iseol beside him was comfortable.

Below, Sama Seung erupted into a frenzy.

The man’s voice cracked as he raged—teeth grinding, lip torn, pride shattered. His fury scorched the air around him, but to Chung Hwa, it was white noise. Irritating, but expected.

Ten consecutive losses.

Mount Hua’s victory wasn’t simply about numbers—it was about the way they won.

Clean.

Effortless.

And with such poise that no amount of past bragging could mask the shame of it.

He could feel it.

The tide had turned.

And Mount Hua’s name, once buried and mocked, now soared with the wind, riding upon the echo of each sword strike, every fallen opponent, and the stunned awe of the crowd.

He glanced at Elder Hwang.

The man looked like he was trying his best not to leap into the air and scream in joy.

He should.

The audience's perspective had shifted entirely. Now, it wasn’t just a sect—they saw an opportunity. They saw potential.

They saw Mount Hua.

Then, as the crowd settled, ready to close the curtain, a voice cut through.

“Wait.”

It was soft, but sharp. Like a dagger sliding from its sheath.

Heads turned. Confused murmurs spread.

Chung Myung stood in the center once more, his posture relaxed, but his smile—

Ah.

That smile.

That familiar, wicked curve of the lips.

A noble wouldn’t wear such an expression.

A Taoist shouldn't wear such an expression.

But that was Chung Myung.

And that was why Chung Hwa leaned back, one arm casually resting on the bench rail, and tilted his head toward Yu Iseol.

“…It’s starting.”

She didn’t ask what he meant.

He didn’t expect her to.

“Who won?” came the voice from below.

Chung Hwa nearly chuckled. Instead, he let the edge of a grin form on his face. So that’s how he’s doing it… Clever brat.

Chung Myung didn’t want a draw. He wouldn’t let the Southern Edge Sect keep even the illusion of superiority. He would crush that illusion. Grind it into the dust.

And he would make them do it themselves.

He watched, silent and composed, as the audience bickered. Their words were irrelevant. All that mattered was the seed of doubt. The uncertainty. The chaos of indecision.

He watched, as always.

Patient.

Measuring.

Then Chung Myung struck.

“The only solution is to remove the losers and put the winners back into the match.”

At that, Yoon Jong’s voice cracked in protest.

Chung Hwa smiled wider. There it is.

But Chung Myung wasn’t done.

“Let’s set aside the boring one-on-one matches!”

A hush swept the crowd.

The tone changed. The air grew heavier.

Chung Hwa didn’t miss the ripple of dread in the Southern Edge Sect’s ranks.

They knew.

Everyone knew.

It wasn’t just another match.

It was war.

And in that war, the battlefield wasn’t swords—it was confidence.

Pride.

Morale.

“One fighter will remain until the end.”

Chung Hwa tapped a finger against his knee.

He didn’t need to look down to know how this would play out. He could already see the Southern Edge Sect hesitating. Trapped. Unable to retreat, unable to move forward.

Because now, it wasn’t just Mount Hua challenging them.

It was Chung Myung.

And even at his worst—

No one wanted to be the next person he looked at.

Chung Hwa let out a low hum, quiet enough that only Yu Iseol could hear.

“I suppose I won’t need to step in.”

Yu Iseol said nothing.

But he saw it. The tiniest shift in her expression. A gleam of interest in her usually distant gaze.

Below them, the game had changed by a monster.

And above, a monster sat in stillness.

Watching the board flip over—again.

—

Jin Geum-Ryong looked like he’d swallowed vinegar, his expression twisted in disbelief.

‘What the hell is he up to now?’

That much was written clearly across his face.

Another match. Another absurd proposal. And this time, it wasn’t just a rematch among the third-class disciples. No—Chung Myung had just openly provoked the second-class disciples.

Chung Hwa exhaled softly through his nose.

Yu Iseol’s gaze flickered toward him briefly. She didn’t ask. She never needed to. But Chung Hwa still gave her the faintest tilt of his head, an unspoken confirmation.

Yes, it was intentional.

Jin Geum-Ryong, meanwhile, looked ready to explode.

And yet, right before the Southern Edge Sect's second-class disciples could protest, Sama Seung's hand reached out, clamping down on Jin Geum-Ryong’s shoulder.

“Elder,” Jin Geum-Ryong growled through clenched teeth.

“Calm yourself.”

Chung Hwa’s black eyes half-lidded, flickering with mild amusement. The elder knew well the trap laid out before him. Refuse, and they would be mocked for cowardice. Accept, and they’d be dancing to Chung Myung’s rhythm.

Hyun Jong seemed just as lost in the moment, glancing around like someone unsure if he was watching his sect fall or rise from ashes. His gaze eventually landed on Un Geom, and as expected, Un Geom backed the little lunatic.

Of course.

‘He’s already seen through it,’ Chung Hwa thought with a ghost of a smile.

"Maybe this sounds exaggerated, but I’ve never felt that child to be foolish or immature."

Un Geom’s words rang in the air.

Immature? No. Chung Myung wasn’t immature.

He was dangerous.

“Mount Hua agrees!”

The moment Hyun Jong’s voice echoed, the crowd burst into cheers. The air around them thickened with excitement. Hushed murmurs turned into open roars of anticipation.

Chung Hwa watched the shift happen in real time. The public sentiment tilted. Just like that.

‘From ridicule to admiration. It really is that easy… when you give them something to believe in.’

Across from him, the Southern Edge Sect was cornered. No retreat. Only retaliation.

And so they accepted.

Sama Seung even tried to predict the tactic. Wheel warfare, he called it. A war of attrition. And he wasn’t wrong. Not exactly.

Except…

Chung Hwa turned his gaze back toward the stage as he heard the faint whistle.

There he was again.

Chung Myung stepped onto the platform with a wooden sword resting lazily on his shoulder, not a trace of tension in his body. He looked like a child playing in the courtyard rather than a warrior about to provoke a sect.

“Plan? What plan? Hurry and come get beaten. I am the plan!”

The audience laughed, but not all in mockery.

Some were genuinely thrilled.

He lifted his teacup, sipped the cold tea at last, and spoke again, just loud enough for her to hear.

“This will be a very long day for the Southern Edge Sect.”

Because from the moment Chung Myung stepped out…

The outcome was already written.

And no matter how the Southern Edge disciples bled and struggled, it would end the same.

With the world remembering only the boy with the sword and the smile that promised ruin.

The tension was palpable, as Chung Myung effortlessly dismantled the Southern Edge Sect's second-class disciple, Yu Baek. His sword movements were simple, yet there was an undeniable weight to them, a power that made even seasoned warriors hesitate. The way Chung Myung moved—so naturally, so decisively—was unlike anything the others had seen from him before.

“Do you see that?” Chung Hwa muttered, more to himself than to the others, though his voice was low enough to carry to his companions. His gaze never left Chung Myung, whose sword was a blur in the air, cutting through the Southern Edge Sect's defenses like a hot knife through butter.

Jo Gul glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that,” Chung Hwa said, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “He’s not just fighting them. He’s sending a message.”

Yun Jong’s brows knitted together in confusion. “A message?”

“Yes. He’s doing more than proving his strength.” Chung Hwa’s voice grew quieter, and his gaze sharpened. “Chung Myung is showing the world that Mount Hua has changed. That we are not to be underestimated.”

Jo Gul looked back at the fight. “But he’s just a third-class disciple! What’s the point of causing all this chaos?”

Chung Hwa’s eyes narrowed, watching as Yu Baek took step after painful step backward. “The point is that this chaos will make people notice. They won’t see just a third-class disciple. They’ll see someone who can take down second-class disciples from one of the most feared sects in the region.”

Yun Jong, still captivated by the fight, murmured, “But is it really necessary for him to go this far?”

Chung Hwa’s gaze shifted to Yun Jong, his expression becoming more serious. “Yun Jong, we’ve been patient long enough. Mount Hua has been struggling, and now it’s time for change. Do you think people will take us seriously unless we show them? Chung Myung knows that—he’s showing them all that Mount Hua is no longer the weak sect people think we are.”

“But—”

“No ‘but,’” Chung Hwa interrupted gently but firmly. “If we want Mount Hua to stand strong again, it starts with making a name. A reputation.”

Yu Iseol, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s bold. It might be reckless, but… it’s bold.”

Chung Hwa smiled faintly, nodding. “Exactly. And boldness is what will get us noticed. So, don’t be surprised when the Southern Edge Sect retaliates, or when the world begins to speak of Mount Hua in a way they never have before.”

Jo Gul exhaled, watching Chung Myung stand tall, his sword raised with a chilling calmness. “He’s doing it, isn’t he?”

Chung Hwa’s smile deepened as he observed his younger companion. “He’s not just doing it, Jo Gul. He’s changing the game.”

And with that, the match reached its climax. Chung Myung’s blade stopped just inches from Yu Baek’s face, the Southern Edge disciple stumbling back in disbelief. The chill in the air was tangible, and the tension felt as if it could snap at any moment.

“Next.”

The Southern Edge Sect disciples froze, their pride shattered, their confidence in tatters. And for Mount Hua, this was just the beginning.

Chung Hwa’s eyes glinted as he finally turned to face his companions. “This will be a story people talk about for years. And Mount Hua will be the one that everyone remembers.”

There was eerie smile on his face.

‘Monsters- these two are monsters’ Yun Jong’s gaze went from Chung Hwa to Chung Myung.

Chapter Text

When Chung Myung took down Jong Seo-Han with such a swift and flawless move, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Chung Hwa’s lips.

His sajae was growing stronger than ever, and there was something deeply satisfying about watching it unfold.

‘That’s my Sajae.’ he thought proudly, his chest swelling with an unspoken sense of triumph. ‘He’s finally showing them just how much we’re worth.’

The Southern Edge Sect disciples, who had initially scoffed at Mount Hua’s swordsmanship, were now getting a firsthand lesson on its might.

Chung Hwa had no doubt that the respect they’d lost over the years would be forcibly returned with each devastating strike.

His fingers twitched with the urge to join in the celebration. But instead, he stood still, allowing his younger brother to take the spotlight.

It was no longer just about Mount Hua’s survival—it was about restoring its honor, about proving that Mount Hua’s roots ran far deeper than the Southern Edge Sect could ever understand.

As Chung Myung effortlessly dispatched yet another disciple with ease, a quiet, genuine pride settled in Chung Hwa's heart.

‘Well done. You’ve come so far. Keep going. Don’t stop now.’

He knew better than anyone how much effort, how much hardship, went into mastering the basics.

That was something others couldn't see. While they marveled at Chung Myung’s skills, Chung Hwa knew that what they were witnessing was the result of endless training, not just talent. And that made it all the more impressive.

His voice, though quiet, was filled with encouragement as he muttered to himself, “Go, Chung Myung. Show them what Mount Hua truly is.”

Chung Hwa could feel it—the tides were shifting.

The day would come when the Southern Edge Sect would regret underestimating them, and Chung Myung was the one leading the charge.

There was no turning back now. The shadow of Mount Hua would stretch across the world once again.

With a soft chuckle, he whispered, “You’ve got this, Sajae. Don’t stop now. Keep showing them what we’re made of.”

As the competition continues the body of the second-grade disciples of Southern Edge Sect fell one by one.

“Six... No, now it’s nine,” he muttered, his voice soft but tinged with amusement. "Honestly, I was expecting a bit more of a challenge." His tone was teasing, almost as if he were offering a bit of encouragement to the Southern Edge Sect, though it was clear he didn’t expect anything from them at this point.

He watched Chung Myung effortlessly defeat the Southern Edge Sect’s disciples, each fall more pathetic than the last.

“Look at that kid,” Chung Hwa murmured, his eyes narrowing as Chung Myung made his opponents crumble one by one.

“Isn’t he just brilliant?” His smile, though playful, had an edge of genuine admiration.

But then, when Lee Song-Baek stepped forward, the atmosphere shifted slightly in Chung Hwa’s chest.

His expression softened, and the smirk faded into something more thoughtful.

“Lee Song-Baek,” he murmured under his breath. “I do hope he can hold his ground.

"He’s... not the worst of the lot.” His tone betrayed a bit of tenderness that contrasted with the mocking attitude he had for the others.

Though he didn’t know Lee Song-Baek as well as he’d like, there was something in the young man’s eyes—something earnest and driven—that made him impossible to ignore.

His gaze went to Southern Edge Sect disciples then to Lee Song-Baek, there was something about him that shines through the abyss.

‘He's like a gem that was left with stones’

As the fight began, Chung Hwa’s gaze remained fixated on Lee Song-Baek. He watched the way he charged, the determination in his stance, the passion that fueled his movements.

Despite the overwhelming pressure, Lee Song-Baek didn’t back down. He might not have the raw power to match Chung Myung, but he certainly had the spirit.

“Well, well. Looks like he’s got some guts, at least.” Chung Hwa nodded to himself, his lips quirking upward. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

When Lee Song-Baek collapsed to the ground after the match, Chung Hwa felt a brief pang of sympathy.

He knew the sting of failure all too well. As Chung Myung stood victorious, his eyes surveying the field,

Chung Hwa took a deep breath, letting the air settle around him before offering his support.

“Don’t worry, Song-Baek,” he muttered softly, as though the young man could hear him.

"You’ll grow. We all do. Just... keep pushing yourself." He gave a small, quiet laugh to himself, rolling his shoulders back. "Not everyone is born to be a monster. But you? You’ll find your way in time."

His gaze went to the moving figure that's walking to the center.

"Ah, Jin Geum-Ryong," Chung Hwa murmured to himself with a subtle smile, his voice barely audible over the silence that enveloped the space. "How pathetic. All that pride and yet still so blind to the truth."

He folded his arms, feeling the surge of energy that always built up when Chung Myung faced an opponent like this. It wasn’t that he thought his sajae’s victory was uncertain—far from it.

He had seen enough to know that Chung Myung was already a force that no one could stand against.

But the sheer arrogance of the Southern Edge Sect, and their sense of superiority, made this moment all the sweeter.

"Thinking that the future is in your hands, huh?" Chung Hwa continued, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched Jin Geum-Ryong speak. "Well, I suppose it’s a nice dream. Too bad it ends here, at the hands of someone far more deserving."

Chung Hwa’s mind flashed back to all the times he had worked behind the scenes, quietly ensuring that Mount Hua would have the means to rise again.

All the trade deals, all the subtle pushes to secure medicine, and supplies. He had done everything in his power to ensure that Mount Hua would survive, but it was this moment, the clash of swords, that would truly determine their future.

He watched as Jin Geum-Ryong arrogantly spoke of his sect’s superiority, claiming that the Southern Edge Sect would always outshine Mount Hua.

Chung Hwa’s expression turned sarcastic. "So, it’s all about ‘creating a new future,’ is it? Please, do me a favor and tell that to the thousand years of history that will laugh at you as you fall."

The words didn’t even need to be spoken aloud—Chung Hwa knew they would never reach Jin Geum-Ryong.

He wasn’t interested in speaking, not when the only thing that mattered now was the outcome of this battle. And that outcome would be Chung Myung’s triumph.

"Go ahead, Jin Geum-Ryong. Keep talking," Chung Hwa muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a mix of pride and disdain. "It just makes it all the more satisfying when you fail."

Chung Hwa couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction bubble up within him as Chung Myung moved with swift, precise strikes. This wasn’t just about winning a battle—it was about sending a message. A message that Mount Hua was back, stronger than ever.

Chung Hwa watching the fierce struggle between the two “today- a dragon will be born and it'll destroy everything that's in its way."

“Isn’t that how nature works anyway” Chung Hwa smiled.

[The Disciples of Mount Hua who heard him talk were shivering in fear, because wasn’t Chung Hwa supposed to be the calm, collected and kind one???]

[Was it Chung Myung’s influence or was his trashy behavior returning? Who knows]

Chapter Text

“Elder, will Sahyung win?”

Seeing the elder tightly biting his lips, the disciple asked cautiously. Sama Seung parted his lips to answer as a stream of blood trickled down his chin.

“Will he win?”

It was an absurd question.

“He has to win, no matter what.”

If that monster’s wings aren’t broken today, then he would continue to soar further into the sky.

Once that monster ascends, no one will ever be able to catch up. From that moment on, that monster would become a dragon.

This might be the last chance.

It might be the worst-case scenario, but Sama Seung hadn’t given up hope.

‘It’ll be possible for Jin Geum-Ryong.’

Although he was also a second-class disciple, Sama Seung had faith in him. Jin Geum-Ryong’s abilities stood far above the others. Although Sama Seung had spoken harshly to him, he firmly believed that Jin Geum-Ryong could stand among the best in the world with enough luck.

In other words?

If Jin Geum-Ryong cannot defeat that child, then no one in this world within that age range will be able to stop Chung Myung. In other words, if Chung Myung defeats Jin Geum-Ryong today, then Chung Myung will naturally take his place as the strongest in his generation.

That outcome was unacceptable.

‘We should have stopped him sooner.’

Even if they had been criticized, Mount Hua should have been exterminated before it came to this. This was the result of them not destroying Mount Hua properly.

‘Damn those Mount Hua bastards!’

Sama Seung glared at them.

He could not allow history to remember this day as the Southern Edge Sect’s disgrace.

Never!

At that moment, Jin Geum-Ryong’s sword began to bloom like a fantasy. Sama Seung clenched his fists as he watched the Twelve Movement Snow Flower Sword technique unfold perfectly.

‘This sword will take your breath away!’

Chung Myung looked at the sword.

‘Similar.’

The movement was copied really well.

The splendor.

The beauty of a single flower, as if it was alive and breathing. And a keen, fatal blow hidden behind the beauty.

Truly, the Twenty-Four Movement Plum Blossom Sword technique.

It is different from what Lee Song-Baek performed. If Lee Song-Baek’s sword was merely an imitation of Mount Hua’s technique, then Jin Geum-Ryong’s sword had an elegance that even Chung Myung might admire.

Anyone bearing witness to such a fantastic sword would end up praising it.

But

The person in front of Jin Geum-Ryong was Chung Myung.

And he avoided the sword.

Swish!

Jin Geum-Ryong’s sword cut the hem of Chung Myung’s robe.

Swish!

The tip of his hair was also cut.

Swish!

Soon, it brushed past Chung Myung’s cheek. A red line appeared, and a drop of blood trickled down.

Chung Myung easily stepped back and raised a finger to wipe away the flowing blood before licking his finger. Bittersweet.

“You won’t be able to defeat me by running away like that.”

Hearing Jin Geum-Ryong’s provocation, Chung Myung simply looked back at him in silence.

Jin Geum-Ryong’s eyes revealed a sense of peace, and he appeared relaxed.

“Once upon a time, Mount Hua made a name for itself with a sword resembling a flower, right?”

“…”

“But that’s a story of the past. Now even those legends will be buried beneath the Southern Edge Sect’s new sword. The world will remember the tales of my sect and forget the sword of Mount Hua.”

Chung Myung quietly listened without responding.

“The ancestors of my sect created this technique to show the world that the Southern Edge Sect’s swordsmanship will always be superior to Mount Hua’s. I honestly believe that it was a meaningless act. What’s the point in proving our superiority over a dying sect? However!”

Jin Geum-Ryong spoke in a cold voice.

“There is meaning in this sword technique being the one that severs the last breath from Mount Hua. Come! I will end this dying legacy!”

Arrogant words, but it was a poignant talk.

However, Chung Myung’s reaction to this was different from what Jin Geum-Ryong expected.

“Pffft.”

“…?”

Chung Myung covered his mouth and then began to lose himself in laughter.

“… what are you doing?”

Chung Myung, who struggled to hold back his laughter, shook his hand with his head down.

“No. No. I am trying, but I just can’t hold it back anymore.”

Chung Myung smiled, revealed his teeth, and raised his sword at Jin Geum-Ryong.

“I enjoyed the show. That act… well, it is more like a clown.”

“Clown?”

“Right. I enjoyed that clumsy impersonation. Even I can do it if it’s only at that level.”

Jin Geum-Ryong’s face was distorted. He gnashed his teeth, and his forehead crumpled.

“How dare you… compare my sword to a mimicry?”

“Ah, don’t get me wrong. It isn’t like I am looking down on you. Rather, it’s the sword technique or… perhaps, it’s the Southern Edge Sect, who invented the technique, that I’m looking down on?”

Jin Geum-Ryong glared at Chung Myung. Yet, Chung Myung didn’t back down.

“You don’t need to glare at me like that. I am going to give you a gift. I’ll fill the void in that sword technique.”

“… it would be better for you to think about how you can escape with your body intact.”

“I don’t think that’s something that a person who could barely touch their opponent should say.”

Jin Geum-Ryong flinched.

The Twelve Movement Snow Flower Sword technique. The opponent shouldn’t be able to distinguish between genuine strikes and illusory falsehoods. So, wouldn’t it be impossible for Chung Myung to avoid it?

Jin Geum-Ryong’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his sword.

Chung Myung wouldn’t be able to survive once this technique was displayed, and Mount Hua wouldn’t dare to ask Jin Geum-Ryong to pay for his actions either. If they pressed charges, they would have to deal with the entire Southern Edge Sect.

In the end, the strong dominate the weak.

The weak may complain about injustice, but they can never punish the strong. An absolute law that can never be changed.

“You…”

However, Chung Myung brutally interrupted Jin Geum-Ryong.

“I will ask you one thing.”

It was an unfamiliar tone.

“Just what is that sword?”

“… what do you mean?”

“No, don’t bother. That’s enough.”

Chung Myung shook his head.

It meant that he meant nothing.

Chung Myung suppressed his true intention and spoke with a smirk in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“That’s a pretty good imitation, but it won’t be enough. Mount Hua’s sword is faster, sharper, and more dazzling.”

Everyone certainly heard that declaration.

With this…

The Southern Edge Sect would be unable to escape from the curse.

“Even now, you’ve got a big mouth.”

“If you find a way to kill my mouth, let me know. Anyway, you’re the one that’s been doing all the talking for a while.”

“You…”

Jin Geum-Ryong moved his sword, deciding not to exchange words anymore. He was going to fight it out and not talk.

One win.

Just one win.

His sword was splendid and swiftly traversed through the air. The qi emanating from the sword began to form vivid flower patterns.

One win.

And another win in a different aspect.

Soon, the flowers created by Jin Geum-Ryong began to cover the area.

As beautiful as can be, yet equally as dangerous.

‘You will die by this sword!’

Twelve Movement Snow Flower Sword technique.

Jin Geum-Ryong displayed the perfect version of this technique, the Snow Flower Full Heaven.

The flower that dyed the world in white began to wrap around Chung Myung as if wanting to tear his body to shreds.

“C-Chung Myung!”

Screams erupted from all around.

The disciples of Mount Hua, who were silently watching as if possessed, jumped up from their seats at once.

They knew.

How dangerous that sword could be.

They didn’t have to be there to know. Just looking at it from afar was enough to make goosebumps rise and their hearts skip a beat.

Chung Myung, whose strength always instilled confidence and faith in them, suddenly seemed to have fallen into a dangerous situation where his survival was uncertain.

Yun Jong clasped his hands in front of his chest without realizing it.

‘Heavenly God!’

Jin Geum-Ryong’s sword was so fierce that they worried for the safety of the monster-like Chung Myung. It seemed like no one could survive in that storm of snow flowers.

Even Baek Cheon was screaming for Chung Myung.

But just one.

Yu Iseol, bit her lip as she looked at the scene without much agitation. However, a single question crossed her mind.

‘That’s…?’

A sight she had seen before. Perhaps it was something familiar too? Something she’d seen recently, but…

‘Different.’

Something felt different.

This sword wasn’t too different from what she knew. However, it didn’t give that same feeling of her soul being sucked in, like Chung Myung’s sword.

What was different?

Yu Iseol turned her sights on Chung Myung.

He would be the one to tell them what was different.

Chung Myung had a subtle expression as he looked at the waves of flowers around.

‘This is another kind of experience.’

It was different from when he was with his Sahyungs. It was rare to feel true killing intent from his Sahyungs.

‘This must be how those demonic bastards felt when they faced the Twenty-Four Movement Plum Blossom Sword technique.’

Maybe a little different.

Chung Myung felt no threat, no pressure at all, from this technique.

Why?

‘This is just a shell.’

Exactly, the shell of a failed sword.

A technique begins with an idea, then a vision for how it would be displayed. Once the vision is formed, it must be granted substance. A sword that’s given substance can be taught and learned. A sword that goes further than that can finally be called one with the Tao.

But this sword was empty.

The idea and vision form the shell of the sword, but there was no substance or deeper meaning. It could never be a true sword technique.

This sword was nothing but a copy of Mount Hua’s sword. A shell with no opportunity for growth.

This all happened because of a long-time misunderstanding.

‘The Plum Blossom Sword technique makes flowers bloom?’

That is wrong in two ways.

One.

Chung Myung began to move his sword slowly. The disciples of Mount Hua recognized it right away.

‘The Seven Sages Sword?’

The disciples all knew that this technique was recently brought back to the sect. But it seemed like a weak choice against the Southern Edge Sect’s technique.

At that time, Chung Myung mumbled to himself.

“It isn’t the Plum Blossom Sword technique that makes the flowers bloom.”

Flowers don’t just bloom in dense forests.

Even a single plum tree on a cliff can make flowers bloom.

Whether it was the Plum Blossom or the Seven Sages Sword technique, it wasn’t the technique that made the flowers bloom but the disciple who held the sword.

That…

Made a faint flower bloom at the tip of Chung Myung’s sword.

A single red flower bloomed amidst the myriad flowers that colored the world white.

It looked like a single Plum Blossom on a snowy mountain.

Snow Plum blossoms bloom alone in the winter when the flowers turn dry and give off a stronger fragrance than others.

Chung Myung’s single plum blossom gradually multiplied and soon covered the white world with red plum blossoms, like snow plums blossoming on a snow-capped Mount Hua.

Everyone witnessing this event was mesmerized.

It was too beautiful to be swordsmanship and too majestic to be a man-made scene.

‘This is fantasy.’

Time stopped.

In that frozen time, only the plum blossoms that bloomed at that moment continued to release a scent so strong that they captivated the audience’s senses.

—

In the background, Chung Hwa sat silently, his usual calm demeanor unshaken.

He knew this technique well. Having seen Chung Myung's swordsmanship before, the subtle shift in the air, the delicate dance of energy in the snow and red blossoms, was familiar.

Despite his indifference, Chung Hwa couldn’t help but be mesmerized. His gaze softened as the red blossoms bloomed.

‘This…’ he thought, almost wistfully. ‘It’s the same, but… different.’

“How Beautiful”

“Plum Blossoms- remind me someone”

Chung Hwa’s eyes softened slightly.

-Uncle! Look at this! Isn't plum blossoms beautiful? I really like its color.

A small girl's face flashed through his eyes- his nephew. -

-Cale, look, it's the plum blossom blooming season, doesn't it look beautiful?

Ethereal face of his mother’s were visible in his eyes.

“Yeah- It’s beautiful” Chung Hwa smiled slightly.

Chapter Text

The snow flowers and plum blossoms that filled the world slowly faded away, leaving behind only the traces of their fleeting beauty.

Like a dream.

Those who had witnessed the incredible spectacle stood in stunned silence. Lost in the afterglow, they struggled to comprehend the events that had just transpired. As the dreamlike imagery dissolved, only two figures remained standing in its place.

Just two.

Chung Myung and Jin Geum-Ryong.

The spectators, holding their breaths, observed the two fighters closely.

‘What happened?’

‘Who won?’

Most of the onlookers hadn’t fully understood the fight. They had only seen a flurry of white snow flowers and red plum blossoms. But soon, the result would become clear.

Jin Geum-Ryong appeared to be standing tall at first, but his knees began to tremble.

In a world where time had stopped, only Jin Geum-Ryong seemed to move. His knees buckled, and his body crumpled to the ground.

Thud!

The sound of his body hitting the floor shattered the tense silence.

With that, time resumed its flow within Mount Hua.

“….”

Baek Cheon’s eyes widened as he stared at the fallen Jin Geum-Ryong.

‘Jin Geum-Ryong has…’

A wall that Baek Cheon had never thought he could surpass was now lying on the ground, defeated.

Was Jin Geum-Ryong weak?

That was far from the truth.

Jin Geum-Ryong’s strength had far exceeded Baek Cheon’s expectations. He could understand why Jin Geum-Ryong had been so confident. Even if they fought a thousand times, Baek Cheon knew he would never have defeated him.

But now, that very man was lying on the floor.

Baek Cheon’s gaze shifted.

Chung Myung stood nearby, his sword lowered, calmly observing the scene. It wasn’t just Baek Cheon who was looking at him; every single person in the area was captivated by his presence.

An unease spread through the air.

A sense of excitement began to rise from deep within their hearts.

They all knew what this meant. The scene they had just witnessed would become part of Mount Hua’s history. It would be spoken of for generations to come, as long as Mount Hua and the Southern Edge Sect existed.

In other words...

A legend had been born that day.

“… we won.”

Yun Jong mumbled without realizing it.

He couldn’t quite believe what his eyes were showing him.

Ten wins in a row.

Mount Hua’s third-class disciple, Chung Myung, had defeated the Southern Edge Sect’s second-class disciples ten times. He had even faced their strongest disciple, Jin Geum-Ryong, and triumphed.

“Uh…”

Yun Jong’s thoughts were a jumbled mess. Nothing seemed to make sense.

All he could do was stare at Chung Myung, still trying to grasp the full scope of what had just happened.

Shhh.

Chung Myung finally sheathed his sword, the motion slow and deliberate, as he surveyed the crowd. His eyes met theirs, and those who caught his gaze flinched and stepped back.

Then, his lips curled into a smile, and he spoke in a voice that was neither too high nor too low.

“This time’s Mount Hua-Southern Edge Sect conference…”

He paused, his smile widening slightly.

“Ends with the victory of Mount Hua!”

And just like that, the explosion of emotion that followed was uncontrollable.

“Ahhhhhhhh!”

Yun Jong was startled by the sight of Baek Cheon screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice filled with pure, unrestrained joy.

Though Yun Jong had spent a lot of time with Baek Cheon, he had never seen him like this before.

But when he thought about it, it made sense.

Yun Jong was only a third-class disciple, so his feelings toward the Southern Edge Sect were naturally more distant than Baek Cheon’s. Baek Cheon and the second-class disciples had suffered under the Southern Edge Sect’s dominance for far longer, and they had faced countless defeats in previous conferences.

For them, this victory was not just a personal achievement—it was a triumph over years of oppression and humiliation.

The excitement was infectious, and the rest of the disciples joined in the celebration.

“Woahhhh! We won! We won over the Southern Edge Sect!”

“The first victory in all these years! The first! Damned Southern Edge Sect!”

“Ten wins! Ten wins! That crazy bastard won ten straight times!”

“Right! Hahahaha, Chung Myung! Chung Myung, you brat!”

Even the second-class disciples were joining in the celebration, their joy as exuberant as the third-class disciples. Yun Jong couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

‘This is what it means to be a martial arts sect.’

A figure moved toward Chung Myung, and every eye turned to him.

It was Chung Hwa, walking with deliberate steps toward the center. As he reached Chung Myung, he stopped in front of him, his hand gently landing on Chung Myung’s head. He patted it affectionately, his face glowing with warmth.

“Good job, Sajae,” Chung Hwa said, his smile soft and sincere.

Chung Myung, despite his usual resistance to such gestures, didn’t push the hand away this time. He simply closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the warmth of his Sahyung’s touch to wash over him.

“Yeah,” was the only word that left his mouth, his voice low but filled with contentment.

Chung Hwa chuckled softly, a sound that was as comforting as the pat on his head.

“Ahhhh! Sahyung! That crazy bastard won! He beat Jin Geum-Ryong! Woahhh!”

The third-class disciples were no less enthusiastic in their celebration.

Jo Gul, who was standing next to Yun Jong, grabbed his head and began to shake it with such force that it felt like Yun Jong’s neck might snap.

“Hey, let go of me—”

“Ahhh! This is crazy! Crazy, I say! Ten wins! Ten wins! I knew he wasn’t a human, but oh my God! Ten wins! That crazy bastard! Hahaha! He is seriously insane!”

“Let go of me, you idiot!”

Even as Yun Jong shouted, he couldn’t help but laugh. The sheer joy that bubbled up within him was impossible to ignore.

Jo Gul’s excitement was contagious, and the rest of the disciples couldn’t contain their exuberance either. It was as if they had been holding their breath for years, waiting for a moment like this.

Had they ever felt like this in their lives?

‘Chung Myung. You did well, you punk!’

Yun Jong looked over at Chung Myung, who was still standing at the center, his head slightly lowered in a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.

Chung Myung pressed his hand against his chest, struggling to suppress the rush of blood that threatened to escape his mouth.

‘I overdid it.’

The difference between what Chung Myung was capable of and what his body could handle was still stark. His victory over Jin Geum-Ryong with the Seven Sages Sword had taken a toll on him, leaving him with several internal injuries.

But…

“This should be fine.”

He muttered under his breath.

“I’m fine, it’s not like I can’t handle it—”

But before he could brush it off, Chung Hwa’s voice interrupted him, cold but kind.

“No, you’ll be treated. And that’s final.”

Chung Myung flinched at the firm tone, but Chung Hwa’s gaze softened as he added with a gentle smile, “I’m proud of you.”

The warmth in his words settled into Chung Myung’s chest, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride well up within him.

Chung Myung lifted his head and turned his gaze toward the Southern Edge Sect. The sight of their disciples, dazed and broken, filled him with satisfaction.

When life is this sweet, even plain rice tastes like a feast.

A cold glint flickered in Chung Myung’s eyes as he smiled, looking down at the Southern Edge Sect.

He knew that the victory they had claimed was not just one for the present—it was a blow to the future of the Southern Edge Sect.

“You should have never touched us.”

The Southern Edge Sect would never forget this defeat. It would haunt them for years to come, reshaping their future forever.

Today, Chung Myung had stolen their future.

‘How’s that, Sahyung? Can’t this be called perfect revenge?’

Are you really a Taoist!?

‘Seriously!?’

Chung Myung chuckled inwardly. A Taoist has no enemies.

Well, at least for this moment, he was grateful that his Sahyung wasn’t alive. If Chung Mun(Jangmun) Sahyung were around, he would have insisted that the present disciples of the Southern Edge Sect were innocent. And Chung Myung would have been asked to show mercy.

But for now, the debt had been paid.

The moment was complete.

With one last glance at the Southern Edge Sect, Chung Myung smiled proudly.

As the disciples celebrated, Chung Hwa watched with fondness. His eyes glistened with pride, a rare but sincere sentiment.

Chung Hwa, seeing how much the disciples had grown from this moment, knew one thing for sure. Mount Hua had changed forever.

And so had its future.

—

The start was grand, but the ending was pretty sloppy.

There were several reasons.

First of all, Mount Hua had never imagined they could win, so they never made any plans to celebrate if they did. Even if they wanted to celebrate, the feeling seemed vague.

Secondly, since Sama Seung had already left, the disciples from the Southern Edge Sect had no choice but to leave Mount Hua in a hurry.

Finally…

“Sect leader! Can we talk for a moment?”

“Don’t push! Didn’t I come here first?”

“Sect leader! Wait for a second, sect leader!”

As soon as Sama Seung left, the officials of Shaanxi, who had seen the events, rushed for Hyun Jong. They had set their sights on Mount Hua’s potential, and they couldn’t just leave empty-handed.

‘I need to make a deal!’

‘I need to secure some business with them!’

‘We can’t let the Eunha Guild soak up all the profits!’

Mount Hua may have won the conference, but that didn’t mean they had completely overpowered the Southern Edge Sect. Still, it was undeniable that Mount Hua was growing stronger at an incredible rate.

Such is the logic of the world. Where there was power, money was bound to flow. The people of Shaanxi had seen the results of the conference for themselves, and they hoped that the money that would soon flow into Mount Hua could trickle down to themselves as well.

“What is wrong with all of you!?”

Hyun Young shouted so loudly that the officials flinched and looked at Hyun Young.

‘Did I overdo it?’

‘Right. Still, he is a sect leader. I should behave politely….’

‘Everyone arrived at once, so he must be flustered.’

However, the words that followed were different from their expectations as Hyun Young spoke.

“You should be discussing the matter with me, the finance head of the sect. I’ve prepared refreshments, so please come this way. I will prepare enough time for you all, so we don’t need to rush through this.”

“…”

“Ah, and I’ve prepared rooms for you to stay, just in case. If anyone wants to stay, let me know.”

“…”

As the crowd watched Hyun Young humming as he headed toward the finance office, they realized that there would be a difficult day of negotiations ahead of them.

Just before all the Southern Edge Sect’s disciples began their departure, Chung Myung found himself face-to-face with a certain disciple again.

“Thank you for the guidance,” Lee Song-Baek said with a respectful bow.

“… What?” Chung Myung raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback.

“Thank you, young disciple,” Lee Song-Baek repeated, offering a humble smile.

Chung Myung glanced at him, his expression a little stiff. “All your other sahyungs must be gnashing their teeth right now. Is it alright for you to come and say this to me?”

Lee Song-Baek scratched his head awkwardly, his tone full of sincerity. “We’re already halfway distant.”

‘Halfway?’ Chung Myung thought, uncertain whether to laugh or sigh.

Was he being optimistic, or just hopelessly naïve? The disciples of the Southern Edge Sect were clearly glaring at Lee Song-Baek with eyes full of hatred. It was only natural. A traitor was always more hated than the enemy, and from the Southern Edge Sect’s point of view, the most terrifying enemy was none other than Chung Myung. How could they feel positively toward Lee Song-Baek after he’d openly fraternized with the enemy?

Yet, despite the hostile glares, Lee Song-Baek appeared unconcerned.

“Before, I couldn’t understand what the young disciple was saying,” Lee Song-Baek continued, his eyes resolute. “But now I think I understand what you were trying to tell me, and the path I need to take.”

“… Hey, I’m from Mount Hua, you know?” Chung Myung raised an eyebrow.

Lee Song-Baek smiled brightly. “What does it matter which sect you belong to? Anyone can be a teacher as long as you have something to learn and are willing to listen.”

“Excuse me, you…” Chung Myung was still at a loss for words.

“Huh?” Lee Song-Baek turned toward him, clearly not understanding where this was going.

“Do you want to join our sect?” Chung Myung said with a slight smirk, half-joking, half-serious. “After all, you’ve already made an enemy of the Southern Edge Sect.”

Lee Song-Baek smiled humbly but looked toward Jin Geum-Ryong, who was still unconscious and being carried out by his comrades. He then turned his gaze back to Chung Myung.

“Sahyung must have felt a lot from today’s match. Be careful. Sahyung is an amazing person. He’ll surely train with the young disciple as his goal from now on. He’ll become much more powerful and frightening.”

Chung Myung waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, well, whatever.” But there was something in his tone that suggested a deeper reflection.

Lee Song-Baek, smiling bitterly, spoke again, more softly. “It might be meaningless for you, young disciple. But I just wanted to thank you again. Then, until we meet again…”

“Wait.” This time, Chung Myung called after him, his tone more serious.

“Yes?” Lee Song-Baek turned around, his expression curious.

Chung Myung and Lee Song-Baek stood silently, staring at each other for a moment, before Chung Myung spoke again, his voice much more somber.

“It will be a difficult road.”

“… I see.” Lee Song-Baek sighed softly, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of the weight of those words.

“Young disciple really seems to read people’s minds. I can’t hide anything from you,” Lee Song-Baek added with a resigned chuckle.

“You’ll still stay with them?” Chung Myung asked, his eyes searching.

Lee Song-Baek nodded. “I didn’t choose this path because I wanted to. I need to take this path, so I will follow it.”

Chung Myung nodded, as though accepting the answer, but there was a strange emotion in his eyes as he watched Lee Song-Baek turn back toward the Southern Edge Sect.

Lee Song-Baek’s journey from now on would be a lonely one. He would be haunted by the memories of today’s battle—the face of his fallen master and the overwhelming power of Chung Myung’s sword. His comrades from the Southern Edge Sect would likely never accept him again, and he would carry that burden. But despite all this, Chung Myung had a strange feeling.

“If he can do that, maybe he will become the hope of the Southern Edge Sect,” he mused.

Just then, a figure stepped forward. It was Chung Hwa, who had been standing beside Chung Myung the whole time, observing quietly. He smiled warmly at Lee Song-Baek, who turned to face him, his gaze filled with respect.

Lee Song-Baek had always admired both Chung Myung and Chung Hwa. The calm wisdom of Chung Hwa, mixed with his profound strength, had always caught Lee Song-Baek’s attention. Even now, standing next to Chung Myung, Chung Hwa’s presence felt both comforting and immense.

Chung Hwa nodded at Lee Song-Baek, his voice gentle yet filled with weight. “You’ve made a wise decision. Life is not easy, but it is the choices we make that define us.”

Lee Song-Baek seemed almost overwhelmed by the sincerity in Chung Hwa’s words. “Thank you. I… will think on this carefully.”

As Lee Song-Baek turned to leave, Chung Hwa reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small, delicate box. His movements were smooth, as always, and the box seemed to shimmer in the light. He approached Lee Song-Baek with it in his hands.

“Take this,” Chung Hwa said, offering the box with a smile. “A small token.”

Lee Song-Baek looked at the box, puzzled. He opened it cautiously, and his breath caught in his throat. Inside was a hairpin of pale silver, its end carved like climbing vines that wrapped around a crescent of cool jade. Chains of soft pink pearls and jade droplets hung from its base, delicate and elegant, but also strong in its design.

“This…” Lee Song-Baek’s voice faltered as he lifted the hairpin from the box, admiring its craftsmanship. “This is too much…”

Chung Hwa’s smile deepened. “It’s not much. A symbol of respect. A reminder that your path is not walked alone. Even when you walk the hard road, remember there are those who see your strength.”

Lee Song-Baek held the hairpin reverently, clearly moved. “Thank you. I will carry this with me.”

“Good,” Chung Hwa said softly. “Remember, the path ahead may be tough, but never forget the power of those who truly understand you.”

As Lee Song-Baek nodded, bowing slightly before stepping away, Chung Hwa turned to Chung Myung, his gaze filled with both affection and pride. They shared a quiet moment, and Chung Hwa spoke with a warm chuckle.

“You’ve made quite an impression today. But don’t forget, you’ll still need to recover from that battle.”

Chung Myung grimaced, his hand instinctively reaching for his chest where the injuries still lingered. “I know, I know. But I feel... good. It’s a different feeling than usual.”

Chung Hwa raised an eyebrow. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I won’t let you ignore those injuries for long.”

The two exchanged knowing looks, and for a brief moment, Chung Myung felt a sense of reassurance. Whatever happened next, he knew he wouldn’t be alone in this.

The road ahead was uncertain, but as long as they stood together, nothing seemed truly impossible.

That day Chung Myung got his first title- Divine Dragon of Mount Hua.

And with Chung Hwa, they were known as the- Twin Dragons.

…

The Legend of Mount Hua has just began.

Chapter Text

Baek Cheon, climbing up the mountain’s peak, snuck a peek at Chung Myung.

“Ah, my legs.”

Chung Myung looked around and sat on a tree stump. He seemed to perfectly fit the image of an elderly man!

‘That little jerk.’

‘You’re too young to be acting like an old man!’

But there was no way Baek Cheon could point that out.

“Thank you for giving me some time.”

“It is nothing. You are my sasuk.”

Baek Cheon felt glad.

“But what brings you to me? To summon me to this humble place, are you going to attack me?”

“…”

Although they didn’t know each other for very long, Chung Myung was aware that Baek Cheon didn’t like him. So, what could he be thinking to ask Chung Myung for his time, as if there was no bad blood between them?

“I saw the battle between you and Jin Geum-Ryong.”

“He already worked quite heavily against you.”

“You were overwhelming.”

“It was nothing.”

Baek Cheon stared at Chung Myung in silence; he slowly opened his mouth after a long period.

“All the sasuks are quite shaken up. At first, it seemed like they were all fine, but now, everything seems complicated.”

That much could be guessed.

As long as they had eyes, they couldn’t deny what Chung Myung did. It was also true that the third-class disciples were noticeably stronger than before.

The second-class disciples were meant to serve as examples and lead the third-class disciples. However, how were they supposed to feel now that the third-class disciples had the potential to become stronger than them?

No, maybe the third-class disciples had already become stronger than them.

“So, what are you trying to say?”

“We want to be strong.”

“… ohhh.”

Baek Cheon looked at Chung Myung with determined eyes.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but, as your senior, it isn’t easy for me to come and say this.”

“I fully understand.”

Who wouldn’t understand Baek Cheon’s feelings, especially Chung Myung, who had seen Baek Cheon’s struggles for himself?

‘His mind must be a mess right now.’

For the first time, he felt sympathy for Baek Cheon.

“But no matter how much I think about it, this seems like the best choice I can make. It’s not that I don’t believe in my sasuks, but what I can learn from them is different from what you can teach us.”

Chung Myung just looked at Baek Cheon.

“So, you’re here and setting aside your pride because you want me to teach the second-class disciples by myself?

“Yes.”

Chung Myung laughed bitterly.

“Why should I do that?”

“…”

Maybe it was because of the unexpected response, but Baek Cheon was at a loss for words and stared blankly.

“It’s annoying, and I don’t get anything out of it, so I don’t see why I should agree.”

“… I am your sasuk. Don’t we belong to the same sect?”

“So? Have the second-class disciples been watching and guiding the third-class disciples? Or did you just leave and do your own training?”

Baek Cheon went silent. He had no response. It was true that he had never paid any attention to the third-class disciples’ training.

‘I always assumed that was Un Geom sasuk’s role and left it up to him.’

“But haven’t you already taken control of the third-class disciples’ training?”

“Why do you think that is?”

When Chung Myung asked back, Baek Cheon struggled to respond.

‘Why? Why….’

The reason is too simple. It was because the third-class disciples are the same rank as Chung Myung. It was annoying and troublesome now, but if they were raised well, then Chung Myung would be able to live without raising a finger in the future.

Baek Cheon sighed deeply.

“You mean that you want me to bow my head.”

“Ehh. You’re making me look bad. How could I dare think that?”

It was implied that you shouldn’t say it out loud even if you understand.

Baek Cheon hated that he understood what Chung Myung meant.

“… But we are still Mount Hua’s disciples.”

“Sasuk.”

“Yes?”

Chung Myung spoke calmly.

“Did you see the third-class disciples training?”

“… I did.”

They seemed barely human by the end, more like stones rolling around.

Just being alive seemed like a great achievement. But Baek Cheon didn’t say anything.

“Do you think I can make the sasuks do that?”

“…”

The answer was…

‘He could definitely treat them harshly; the only reason he holds himself back is so that he doesn’t get caught by others’

That’s what Baek Cheon thought, but he’s a smooth talker and knew that he shouldn’t say that out loud.

“It would be difficult since you’re a good person, but I think you’d somehow manage.”

“Yes, yes.”

‘What bullshit.’

Chung Myung just shrugged.

“But that’s why I can’t do it. I can make it work for the sahyungs, but I can’t do anything for my sasuks. If I do, would the first-class disciples let me continue?”

Baek Cheon looked at Chung Myung.

‘It’s possible.’

Chung Myung was pointing out the problems, but he never said it was impossible.

“Then, if all the problems are taken care of, you can make us stronger, right?”

“Haven’t you seen the results with your own eyes?”

Baek Cheon had certainly seen the results.

That was why he was here.

Baek Cheon took a deep breath.

Chung Myung had managed to train the third-class disciples to the point that they could overpower the Southern Edge Sect’s disciples and even defeated Jin Geum-Ryong and the other second-class disciples himself.

Not a single second-class disciple could even touch him.

Baek Cheon bit his lip tightly.

“I will fix that issue.”

“How?”

“During the training, we won’t be the sasuks. Those who receive guidance will be the disciples, and we will respect you as a teacher.”

“Wow.”

Chung Myung looked interested but shook his head while looking at Baek Cheon.

“That won’t be enough.”

“… why?”

“If you curse me after the training, then there is no way out for me.”

“…”

Baek Cheon spoke bluntly.

“No, we wouldn’t sink so low….”

“With just one day of training, you’ll change your words. Even the sahyungs were troublesome at first.”

Baek Cheon was at a loss of words.

“T-then what do I do?”

“If you’re going to do it, you need to make it clear.”

Chung Myung snapped his finger.

“If you want to learn, whether it’s time to train or not, you’ll have to bow to me. Then I’ll help. But if that doesn’t work, then I can’t do a thing for you. I need to be able to live here as well, you know.”

“…”

Baek Cheon agonized, but not for long.

‘Do I have any pride left?’

It was disgraceful to bow to a sajil. But it was a greater disgrace to be weak. And…

‘I want to be able to display that sword one day.’

The sword that destroyed Jin Gem-Ryong. Mount Hua’s sword was branded deeply into his memory.

“Fine.”

Baek Cheon answered firmly.

“From this moment on, you aren’t a sajil for the second-class disciples. Your title may be sajil, but none of the second-class disciples will attempt to use that against you. I guarantee it with my name on the line.”

‘Caught you!’

A happy smile crept onto Chung Myung’s lips.

He was thinking about how he could catch these idiots, but they jumped into the net with their own feet.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Alright. Then everyone will gather and come out tomorrow morning.”

“…”

“What?”

“Ah, no. nothing.’

Baek Cheon would only realize later on what a grave mistake he had made.

—

Dawn of the next day.

“… Sahyung.”

“…”

“Why are they here?”

“Well.”

‘How am I even supposed to answer that?’

Mount Hua’s third-class disciples trembled as they watched the second-class disciples approaching in the morning light.

Since Mount Hua is located on a high mountain, the morning air is rather cold. A white fog was created as warm breaths were exhaled against the frigid air. Compounded with the second-class disciples marching forward, the sight of it looked like aged warriors heading for the battlefield.

“Are we going to die today?”

“I doubt that would happen.”

Before long, all the second-class disciples came out and lined up across the third-class disciples.

Finally, Baek Cheon slowly walked out and stood at the front.

“Is everyone here?”

“Yes, Sahyung!”

“Yes.”

Baek Cheon lightly nodded and looked at everyone with a soft gaze before turning his sights to the sky.

‘No way.’

‘It can’t be.’

At that moment, the White Plum Blossom dorm door opened, and Chung Myung came out yawning.

“Yawn!! Why is it that I can never get enough sleep?”

‘Then just sleep in!’

‘Why don’t you just skip a day!? How can you complain like that and still train every day? Everyday!’

Chung Myung trudged out and approached Yun Jong. As if he had been waiting for this, Yun Jong quickly clung to Chung Myung and asked,

“Chung Myung. Why are they out here?”

“Ah. Sasuks.”

“Right. The sasuks!”

“Sahyung.”

“Huh?”

Chung Myung reached out and put his arm around Yun Jong’s shoulder.

“You must have gone through so much trouble.”

“What’s this all of a sudden?”

“I know very well just how hard the sahyungs have suffered and been bullied by the sasuks.”

‘No, they’ve never done that.’

‘If we’ve ever been hit, it was always by you. Why are you suddenly dragging the sasuks into this?’

“But you can relax. From now on, we’ll live in a beautiful world where all people are equal, at least during training.”

“A place where all are equal?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that what happens in hell?”

“… Huh?”

‘That sounds plausible?’

Yun Jong’s face contorted.

‘In the end, he even got the Baek disciples.’

This man’s beastly hands stretch out without end. How long had it been since he first drove the third-class disciples to hell? Now you are saying that he even has the second-class disciples in his hands?

‘What’s going to happen to Mount Hua?’

While Yun Jong suppressed his rising sadness, Chung Myung went to the center.

“You’ve all worked hard getting here this early in the morning.”

“…”

“This instructor is very moved to see everyone ‘voluntarily’ participating in the training like this.”

‘Conscience-less bastard!’

‘When was the last time you let someone rest from training? Hell is going to have a grand time punishing you!’

The third-class disciples bit their lips, but the second-class disciples surprisingly didn’t show much of a reaction.

“Train hard. If you feel refreshed and rewarded after you’re done, then it can’t be called training. As soon as training ends, you will gasp, curse, and you won’t even have the strength to lift your chopsticks. You need to be prepared to shove your face onto your plate just to eat after experiencing real training.”

What encouraging words.

“There is no gentle path to becoming strong. Pushing harder and harder with your best effort is the only way to become strong. If you trust and follow this instructor, you will become strong. Do you understand?”

Yun Jong’s face contorted.

‘No, he can’t act like that to the seniors… it will sting him back…!’

It was then!

“YESSSSS!”

The loud response from the second-class disciples made the third-class disciples step back in shock.

“W-what?”

“What is wrong with them?”

Being taught by someone, a sajil at that, who might be the age of their younger brother, must be embarrassing. But that didn’t seem to bother them at all.

‘It would be a disgrace if we fall behind the third-class disciples!’

‘No, we can’t let that happen.’

‘It is better to be looked down on in the sect than to be ridiculed out in the world for being weak.’

‘Look at them.’

As he received the sparkling gazes of the second-class disciples, Chung Myung said,

“This is it!”

They were eyes that craved to learn!

Chung Myung was proud to see the second-class disciples burning with passion for learning while holding back their complaints. It was a refreshing change from the third-class disciples that were always gloomy and bitter.

Of course, the third-class disciples used to be brighter and more optimistic before he arrived, but Chung Myung didn’t think much about such things.

“Well then.”

Chung Myung smiled.

“The basics are important in anything. Let’s start with strength training. Sahyungs? What are you doing? You need to teach the seniors how the strength training is done.”

At those words, the rest of the third-class disciples also smiled.

“Ah, right.”

“Ahem. I will do my best.”

The third-class disciples’ eyes were gleaming in madness as if screaming, 'You should get a taste of it too.'

‘You thought this training would be good for you, didn’t you?’

‘If they try it once, their screams will be heard for at least three months.’

‘Their cries will make a wonderful song!’

The third-class disciples bore sinister smiles that made the second-class disciples anxious.

But unexpectedly, there was someone who came forward amid the impending crisis.

“Huh?”

Chung Myung tilted his head when he saw the person standing in front of him.

“What now?”

“To learn.”

“Learn from the kids over there.”

“No one came to me.”

“… Uh?”

Chung Myung tilted his head while looking at Yu Iseol.

“No, why would no one… what are the sahyungs doing?”

The disciples heard Chung Myung and quickly turned away, looking at the dawning sky.

“To feel awkward just because she’s a woman… wait. Wait, come to think of it, why don’t we have any girls in our class? Why do we only have men? There are a lot of women among the Baek disciples.”

“…”

Chung Myung turned to Yun Jong and said,

“No, Sahyung. Did you only accept men as disciples for our class? That’s why our dorm is so dark and gloomy.”

“Chung Myung.”

“Huh?”

Yun Jong looked at Chung Myung and spoke with an expression that seemed as if he would cry tears of blood at any moment.

“There are some subjects in the world that shouldn’t be touched.”

“…”

Chung Myung looked at Yun Jong for a long time and bowed his head.

“I was wrong. I apologize. Please forgive me.”

“… be careful from now.”

“I will.”

After apologizing, he looked at Yu Iseol.

“I won’t think of you as a woman.”

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

“Even if you cry, I won’t go easy.”

“That won’t happen.”

No fear.

“Promise me one thing instead.”

“What?”

“If I endure this, will you teach me how to make the plum blossoms bloom on my sword?”

“Everyone is saying such strange things.”

Chung Myung spoke with a stiff face.

“If sahyungs and sasuks are the disciples of Mount Hua, you shouldn’t be aiming to make plum blossoms. That’s just a part of the process. What you should be aiming for is completion.”

“Completion…”

“Well, right. Then…”

Chung Myung shrugged.

“First, let’s build the foundation for enlightenment. Let’s go!”

Seeing the second-class disciples moving, Chung Myung smiled wickedly.

‘In the past, I only cared about my own skills and didn’t pay attention to my sajaes or sahyungs.’

Back then, Chung Myung took it for granted, but not now. Had he not realized it at the end? After all, Mount Hua’s opponent wasn’t just one strong man but an entire sect.

There were limits to what could be done alone.

What if one day they become strong enough to support Chung Myung?

“Kuhahaha. It’ll be done. A strong team, and then I’ll draw plum blossoms on the heads of the Shaolin.”

The disciples of Mount Hua, who thought they heard something they shouldn’t have, decided to close their ears and turn their heads.

Meanwhile, standing quietly behind the crowd, Chung Hwa watched the entire scene unfold.

His gaze was calm, but his thoughts were sharp as he observed the interactions.

“Chung Myung has a way of igniting the fire in people’s hearts... but he’s walking a dangerous line. How far will this go?”

He silently watched as the second-class disciples bristled with competitive fire, their pride pushing them forward. The situation felt precarious, but there was something undeniably compelling about how Chung Myung could rally people together with such fervor.

“Mount Hua is going to need more than just strength... it will need unity, balance. If this works, it might be the key to saving the sect. But... I wonder if this is the right way.”

Knowing Chung Myung, maybe this is the best way.

Chung Hwa’s expression remained unreadable as he stayed in the background, quietly considering what the future would hold for Mount Hua.

And then a small smile made its way to Chung Hwa’s lips.

Chapter Text

The sun was still climbing slowly in the sky as Chung Hwa walked toward the main building of Mount Hua, the place where Sect Leader Hyun Jong usually conducted his daily affairs.

Morning mist clung softly to the mountain air, wrapping the peaks in a silver veil. It was quiet, the kind of serene silence that only the early hours could offer.

His long, deep red hair swayed with each step, a vivid streak of color that cut through the gentle green of the mountain’s landscape, catching flecks of morning light like threads of fire.

He moved with purpose. With each footstep, the weight of days spent pondering, planning, and preparing grounded him.

The wooden stairs creaked faintly under his light steps as he ascended, his gaze steady on the doors ahead.

As he neared the entrance of the main hall, the muffled sounds of conversation filtered through the wooden walls.

Sect Leader Hyun Jong was in a meeting—as expected. Usually, Chung Hwa would have waited patiently for it to end.

But today was different.

Today, there was no time for waiting. No time for pleasantries.

Today, he came with intent.

He paused at the door for only a breath, adjusted his robes with a practiced sweep, then pushed the doors open. The old wood creaked, announcing his arrival. Inside, a dozen heads turned toward him. Elders and officials seated around the long table fell silent at the sudden interruption.

And then, Hyun Jong’s voice broke the hush.

“Ah, Chung Hwa.” The Sect Leader’s face lit up with a warmth that softened the lines of age and responsibility. “What brings you here this morning?”

Chung Hwa stepped inside with grace, bowing respectfully. His black eyes, calm and unwavering, met Hyun Jong’s. “Sect Leader, I have a request. One I’ve been considering for some time.”

Hyun Jong leaned back, intrigued. “A request? Speak freely, child. What is it that you seek?”

“I wish to establish an apothecary here in Mount Hua,” Chung Hwa said, his voice carrying across the hall. “A place where herbs, medicine, and other essential supplies can be prepared and stored. A place not just for treatment, but for study, preservation, and healing. A sanctuary of care, where our sect’s health is protected and strengthened.”

A few elders exchanged glances, the silence thick with surprise. But Hyun Jong’s eyes never left the young disciple before him.

“An apothecary…” he echoed thoughtfully. “You’ve already done so much—your elixirs, your medicines, your healing work. This would be a large undertaking. Why now?”

Chung Hwa stepped forward, folding his hands behind his back. “Because strength alone cannot sustain a sect. We need a foundation built not only on swordsmanship, but on survival, recovery, and knowledge. Disciples train until they bleed. Some return from missions with wounds that never fully heal. If we continue to overlook the body and focus only on the blade, we’ll be cutting ourselves down slowly. I’ve studied the herbs available on the mountain. I’ve treated more than a few injuries myself. But we can do more.”

He let the silence settle before continuing, “We can become a sect known not only for its sword, but for its heart.”

Hyun Jong was quiet for a moment, studying the disciple who stood with the bearing of a seasoned elder rather than a boy of fourteen. “You speak with conviction, Chung Hwa. And with vision. But… are you ready for the responsibility?”

Chung Hwa gave a small nod, the fire in his gaze clear and steady. “I am. I have the skill, the experience, and the resolve. I’ve treated illnesses others thought incurable. I’ve healed injuries without leaving a scar. And I’ve studied more medicinal texts than most disciples have read scriptures. More than anything, I want Mount Hua to flourish—completely. Let me begin with this.”

A quiet murmur of approval stirred through the room, some of the elders nodding.

Hyun Jong smiled. Not just pleased, but proud. “I trust you, Chung Hwa. You’ve earned it. Make the arrangements,” he said to one of the aides standing nearby. “Give him what he needs.”

Chung Hwa bowed again, this time more deeply. “Thank you, Sect Leader. I promise you, I won’t disappoint.”

“I never thought you would,” Hyun Jong said, still smiling. “Now, what do you require? A building of your own, I presume?”

“Yes,” Chung Hwa said. “It doesn’t need to be grand. Just… functional. I’d like a common room for visitors and patients, a treatment room for healing and preparation, a personal office, a small library, and a storage room. A quiet place where one can focus, but also where help is always within reach.”

Hyun Jong raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I have,” Chung Hwa said simply.

“And the name?” Hyun Jong asked, leaning forward with interest.

Chung Hwa paused for a breath, then answered, “The Red Blossom Apothecary.”

For a moment, silence hung again in the air. Then Hyun Jong chuckled lightly. “A bold name. Fitting for someone like you. Very well, it shall be called that.”

The aide bowed and quickly left to begin preparations.

Chung Hwa gave one final bow. “Thank you, Sect Leader. I will make sure it exceeds your expectations.”

“I have no doubt it will.”

Chung Hwa turned to leave, content and calm. He expected a modest building tucked into the side of the mountain, maybe something quiet and humble like the herb sheds he was used to.

Oh, how wrong he was.

For days later, the construction began—not of a simple shed or humble house, but of a towering pavilion nestled into the slope just below the elder dormitories. A stone path would lead to it, marked with red blossoms carved into the trail. The entrance would be flanked by white jade pillars, and delicate wind chimes would tinkle with the mountain breeze.

Because when Sect Leader Hyun Jong gave his support… he gave it fully.

And Mount Hua’s Red Blossom had just begun to bloom.

—

Chung Hwa stood silently in front of the completed structure, his sleeves fluttering in the mountain breeze.

The Red Blossom Apothecary… was not small.

His expression did not change, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. That was all anyone needed to know.

It looked less like an apothecary and more like a small sect headquarters. Wide, paved stone paths led up to the towering double doors, where a graceful wooden plaque—hand-carved with flowing calligraphy—hung proudly:

"Red Blossom Apothecary."

It was elegant. It was tasteful. It was absurd.

Chung Myung stood beside him, chewing on a roasted sweet potato skewer, eyes wide. “…Sahyung. Did you ask for a sect within the sect?”

Chung Hwa said nothing.

“Should we rename this to the Blossom Pavilion Sect? Mount Hua: Petal Division? No? What about—”

“Not now,” Chung Hwa muttered.

Chung Myung grinned. “Did you accidentally overthrow Sect Leader Hyun Jong and forget to tell me? Should I be bowing to you instead?”

“…Keep chewing your potato.”

Just then, Elder Hyun Young bustled toward them, practically glowing with pride. “Chung Hwa! Isn’t it perfect? I personally oversaw every detail!”

Chung Hwa turned slowly, his face the picture of internal crisis. “…It’s… very thorough.”

“Of course it is! You’re Mount Hua’s Golden Lotus! We can’t let you treat wounds in some dusty broom closet!”

“I asked for five rooms.”

“And you got an entire wing of Mount Hua! Where’s the gratitude?”

“…I’m very grateful,” Chung Hwa said in the tone of someone being very polite while inside his soul was quietly screaming.

Hyun Young beamed. “Come, come! Let me give you the grand tour!”

They entered the front hall—a “simple common room”—which turned out to be large enough to host the annual Sect Elders’ Conference twice. Elegant cushions were arranged around low tables, scroll art adorned the walls, and a massive incense burner quietly filled the air with the scent of lotus and ginseng.

“Very peaceful, yes?” Hyun Young said proudly.

“I could hold a symposium here,” Chung Hwa murmured.

“You will!” Hyun Young cheered.

Next came the treatment rooms—not one, not two, but four, each with its own theme.

“This one is for internal injuries,” Hyun Young said, gesturing like a showman. “That one for poisons, the third for demonic energy ailments, and the last for regular wounds or long-term rest. Or you can rearrange them however you want.”

Chung Myung peeked into the demonic energy room and whistled. “Sahyung, it has glowing walls. What are those? Spirit stones? Wait—do they hum when I touch them? They hum when I touch them!”

Chung Hwa continued walking without looking back.

The office was grand, with a fireplace, shelves already half-filled with ledgers, and even a second desk “for assistants.” Hyun Young patted one chair. “You can use this to interview applicants.”

“…Applicants?”

“For staff, of course!”

“I didn’t ask for staff.”

“Well, people will volunteer anyway.”

The library was... an emotional event.

Chung Hwa stood still for a moment, facing rows and rows of bookshelves. It was the size of a small archive hall, and smelled faintly of sandalwood and paper.

“Baekryeon Hall already sent a shipment,” Hyun Young said modestly. “Yeo Dong-Jun insisted. Also, there's a ladder on wheels.”

Chung Myung rolled the ladder back and forth gleefully. “Wheee—! Sahyung, look! I’m learning medicinal knowledge through momentum!”

Chung Hwa exhaled slowly. “I will leave you in here.”

Next was the storage room, and this was at least acceptable—though it had clearly been designed by someone who thought Chung Hwa was preparing for a hundred-year war. Floor-to-ceiling reinforced shelves, hidden compartments, temperature-controlled chests, even a locked section labeled “For Extremely Dangerous Herbs.”

“Don't open that one,” Hyun Young warned. “It bit me once.”

Chung Hwa raised a brow.

“I’m kidding! …Mostly.”

Then came the… extras.

The medicine refinement room had ventilation, a pill furnace, and a shelf of rare materials.

The herb prep room had drying racks, washbasins, and a table so clean it gleamed.

The research room was complete with diagrams, instruments, and… a chalkboard.

“…Where did you even find a chalkboard?” Chung Hwa asked.

“I had it shipped from the south,” Hyun Young said proudly. “It’s imported!”

Then came the crafting room, the alchemy room, and yes—a tea room.

“This is ridiculous,” Chung Hwa muttered.

“You need to rest too,” Hyun Young said. “You’re always working. This room is mandatory!”

“Are there tea regulations?”

“Only the best teas are allowed.”

“Of course.”

The art room was next. Scrolls, painting supplies, an in-progress landscape painting of Mount Hua at dawn.

Chung Hwa blinked slowly. “...I didn’t ask for this.”

“You paint when you're tired,” Hyun Young said cheerfully. “This is to encourage your stress relief!”

“I have never—”

“You will now!”

Chung Myung was already painting a crude doodle of himself battling a demon-possessed sweet potato.

They passed two guest rooms, beautifully arranged and well-stocked. “For Yeo Dong-Jun and other important visitors,” Hyun Young explained.

“Reasonable,” Chung Hwa said cautiously.

Then the archive room, secured with reinforced doors.

“And here we store everything! Records, treatments, discoveries, patient notes—organized meticulously!”

Chung Hwa looked impressed. For once.

Until they reached the final door.

“…And this is the artifact room.”

Chung Hwa paused. “I asked for five rooms.”

“You received twenty-one!” Hyun Young clapped. “Congratulations!”

Silence.

Chung Myung, now holding two skewers, looked around with awe. “Sahyung… I think you're not just the Golden Lotus. You're the Golden Pavilion Sect Lord. Should I build you a throne?”

“I’ll build my own,” Chung Hwa said flatly. “Out of snacks. That’s what I’m keeping in the artifact room.”

Chung Myung started choking from laughter again. “You're gonna store roasted yams in a room designed for divine relics?!”

“They’re more useful.”

Hyun Young merely laughed. “When you receive your first divine treasure, we’ll see if you still say that.”

Chung Hwa didn’t even argue. He was done. Utterly, spiritually done.

He turned and looked at the crimson banner swaying outside, bearing the elegant insignia of the Red Blossom. The building, for all its excess, felt strangely… warm. Peaceful. Like Mount Hua—just dressed in fancier robes.

“…I suppose I’ll make use of it,” he said finally.

Hyun Young beamed. “That’s the spirit!”

Chung Myung grinned. “Just tell me when your sect accepts disciples. I want to be Head Sweet Potato Elder.”

“…Get out,” Chung Hwa muttered.

“I’ll build you a mascot,” Chung Myung offered. “A red blossom potato with a sword.”

“…Out.”

Chapter Text

The cries of agony echoed across Mount Hua’s courtyard.

“GAAAH!”

“I CAN’T FEEL MY ARMS!”

“WHY IS THIS THE MORNING WARM-UP?!”

A sea of collapsing bodies flooded the third and second-class disciples' training grounds. Dozens of disciples lay on the ground, their faces contorted in despair, sweat-soaked clothes clinging to their forms, legs twitching as if they had narrowly survived a battle with a horde of demons.

“Up.”

The word dropped from Chung Myung’s lips like a guillotine, final and merciless.

Chung Myung, now somehow even more terrifying than a year ago, chewed lazily on dried persimmons, his eyes staring blankly at the chaos unfolding below. He didn’t even blink as he watched them struggle to lift themselves off the ground.

“You said you wanted to become stronger, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t mean THIS—!”

“Excuses.” Without so much as a glance, he spat the seed into a jar. It landed perfectly. “Again.”

“AGAIN?!”

“Form Five. From the start. Flow like water. Collapse and I make you re-do it all from Form One.”

A collective scream of agony followed.

From the upper pavilion, where Chung Hwa sat sipping his tea, the sound of pain was barely audible. His eyes, half-lidded, flicked between the scrolls in front of him as he scribbled down notes on the most recent medical breakthrough. He didn’t look up when Jo Gul entered with a basket of herbs, looking more tired than usual.

“Was that Yun Jong screaming?” Chung Hwa asked casually, his pen pausing mid-air.

Jo Gul, looking like he'd aged five years in the span of a few hours, nodded slowly. “...I think so.”

Chung Hwa hummed thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he sipped his tea. “Hm. He’s improved. The pitch is higher this time.”

Jo Gul blinked. “...Pitch?”

“His scream,” Chung Hwa clarified, still not looking up. “It’s more melodious.”

Jo Gul stared, unsure how to respond.

One year had passed, and the Red Blossom Apothecary had become the pride of Mount Hua.

In that time:

— The disciples had learned the true meaning of hell through Chung Myung’s training regimen.

— The phrase “Divine Hand of Mount Hua” had spread far beyond Shaanxi, bringing wandering physicians and merchants from distant lands to seek out "the boy who could bring a dying flower back to bloom."

— Mount Hua’s finances, once hanging by a thread, had stabilized. They were even flourishing, thanks to Chung Hwa’s unparalleled business acumen and his uncanny ability to turn herbs into gold.

And through it all, the calm center of it all sat in his office. He looked nothing like a typical sect leader. His long red ponytail trailed over one shoulder, black eyes calmly flipping through books on pill refinement, ancient trading routes, and the art of medicinal healing.

Because while everyone else suffered, Chung Hwa had been:

Studying ancient medical texts to innovate new elixirs.

Mastering advanced acupuncture techniques and integrating them into his practice.

Expanding his knowledge into alchemy, formations, and spiritual medicine.

Sparring daily with Chung Myung, their duels often shaking the ground and scattering nearby squirrels.

And overseeing the day-to-day operations of the Red Blossom Apothecary with the precision of a retired general.

The man never rested.

And yet, somehow, he still found time to:

Sew winter robes for the disciples, making sure they were warm enough to survive Chung Myung's cruel morning training.

Send out Mount Hua’s seasonal mooncakes to allies and business partners.

Personally handcraft a jade comb for Elder Hyun Young’s birthday—because apparently, Elder Hyun Young needed "special treatment."

“He’s not human,” Jo Gul muttered under his breath.

“Mm. I agree.” Chung Myung appeared behind them, dragging an armful of unconscious second-class disciples over his shoulders like a pile of firewood. “He’s worse.”

Chung Hwa glanced over, entirely calm. “You’re five minutes behind your usual training schedule.”

Chung Myung grinned mischievously, dropping the disciples on the ground in a heap. “Caught a beetle mid-jump. Worth it.” He cracked his knuckles. “Want to train now?”

Chung Hwa nodded, unperturbed. “I have a tea appointment in twenty. We’ll spar for fifteen minutes. Full speed. No internal injuries. I’m operating tonight.”

Chung Myung grinned wider. “As if you’d let me land a hit.”

Jo Gul stood frozen, his eyes flicking between the two monsters, silently praying for the safety of Mount Hua.

Chung Hwa never took on disciples. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to teach—it was that teaching them everything would be a pain. He already had a mountain of things to master, from the complexities of medicine to the intricacies of Mount Hua’s finances, to, somehow, surviving Chung Myung’s relentless training regimen.

He didn’t have time to teach others the basics. Besides, it was easier to simply make them suffer alongside him.

He was, after all, too busy being the backbone of Mount Hua—and, apparently, the one person everyone feared besides Chung Myung.

—

Later that night, while the sect slept and the wind carried the scent of early plum blossoms, Chung Hwa stood in the apothecary’s garden under the moonlight, carefully inspecting a rare herb he’d been nurturing. He knelt, fingers gentle as always, brushing soil away from the roots.

He paused, glanced at the herb.

“…You’ve grown well.”

A rustle behind him announced Chung Myung’s arrival.

“You talk to plants now?”

“They listen better than you,” Chung Hwa replied smoothly.

Chung Myung plopped down beside him, chin propped on one hand. “We’re being called freaks again, you know.”

“We’ve always been freaks.”

Chung Myung grinned. “They think I’m the violent madman, and you’re the elegant immortal.”

“I am more elegant.”

“And more annoying.”

Chung Hwa smiled faintly, moonlight brushing his pale skin. “I heard someone call us the Twin Demons of Mount Hua.”

Chung Myung burst out laughing.

Then, silence stretched between them.

In that silence, there was understanding—the kind that only those who lived multiple lives, died more than once, and chose to walk the path of madness again could share.

“You’re not slowing down,” Chung Myung finally muttered.

“I don’t plan to,” Chung Hwa said quietly. “There’s still too much to do.”

“...Don’t burn yourself out.”

“I won’t.” A pause. “But if I do, you’ll carry me, won’t you?”

“Tch. As if I haven’t been doing that already.”

Chung Hwa smirked. “You call what you do ‘carrying’?”

Chung Myung stood. “Come spar. Ten minutes. I promise I’ll only break one rib.”

“Very generous. Make it the left side.”

The two of them disappeared into the trees, leaving behind only crushed grass and a faint ripple in the air, like the world itself had started to brace for impact.

And somewhere far below, Yun Jong shivered in his sleep.

—

In the dead of night, the Red Blossom Apothecary’s alchemy room glowed.

A soft golden light bathed the intricately carved shelves and porcelain jars, flickering from within the furnace at the room’s heart. The scent of rare herbs filled the air—sweet, bitter, sharp—layered and complex.

Chung Hwa stood before the furnace, one sleeve tied back, the other hanging loose. His long hair was twisted into a loose knot, sweat dampening the edges of his pale face. Carefully, he dropped the final powdered fragment of a century-old lotus root into the simmering elixir.

The liquid inside glowed—then burst with energy.

Chung Hwa’s eyes narrowed. He turned his wrist and pressed a palm over the cauldron, flowing his energy through it, stabilizing the violent reaction. When the light faded, he was left with a single deep crimson pill.

It shimmered like flames. Alive.

He exhaled slowly and picked up the pill with delicate chopsticks, placing it gently into a jade container. Then he turned to a table filled with scattered scrolls, diagrams, notes—his research into a pill long thought lost: The Soulfire Rebirth Pill.

A medicine of legend. A pill said to reignite crippled meridians, to revive dying energy, and bring someone back from the brink of spiritual death.

“I’m close,” he murmured.

But not close enough.

He sat, flipping to a page inked with red markings. Circled in bold strokes were two crucial materials—both missing.

Sea-Severed Coral
Southern Azure Flame Lily

Both could only be found in one place: the Southern Sea Sun Palace.

He leaned back, quiet.

The Sun Palace.

A realm of beauty, mystery—and fury. Closed off from the Central Plains for a century. Ever since the Demonic Sect’s invasion, when the Orthodox Sects turned a blind eye to the Southern Sea’s suffering. Betrayed and abandoned, they severed all ties and vanished behind the waves.

Few dared approach them since. None returned without being humiliated or turned away.

And yet…

Chung Hwa’s expression remained calm.

Because-

—

The next morning, the courtyard was peaceful—for exactly four minutes—before the entire ground cracked from a sudden explosion of force.

Chung Myung stared at Chung Hwa like he'd lost his mind. “You’re going where?!”

“The Southern Sea.”

“To the Sun Palace?! By yourself?!”

“Yes.”

“Have you been eating your pills?! That place closed off from the Central Plains a hundred years ago! You don’t even know if they’ll let you live!”

“They might.”

“‘They might,’ he says. And what if they don’t?! What if they skewer you on some fancy seaweed spear or drown you in their golden fish pond?!”

“They won’t.”

Chung Myung stalked toward him, eyes narrowing. “You’re seriously going to a place that takes three months to reach by foot—”

“I won’t walk.”

“I know you won’t walk, you lunatic!”

Chung Hwa smiled. “Then why are you shouting?”

“Because I’m trying to stop you!”

Silence.

Then Chung Hwa’s gaze softened. “...If there was any other way, I wouldn’t go. But this pill… It could save lives, Myung. It could change things.”

Chung Myung turned away, jaw clenched. He didn’t say a word for a long moment.

Then, lowly, “You’re too damn soft.”

Chung Hwa reached out and ruffled his hair.

Chung Myung slapped his hand away with a glare.

—

When the elders were told, chaos erupted.

Hyun Sang nearly choked on his tea.

Hyun Young was dead silent for a moment, then stood, face stern. “If you are going to the Southern Sea, then we must prepare you properly.”

“…I’m just going—”

“NO. You are the pride of Mount Hua. You represent us. You must go in full robes with the proper token, gifts, emergency elixirs, sea-resistant clothing, and weather-adapted boots. Do you know how humid it is near the sea?! Your hair could frizz!”

“...”

By the next morning, Hyun Young had mobilized the entire sect.

— A new outer robe was tailored for sea travel, resistant to salt and sun.

— Ten boxes of Mount Hua’s finest medicines and delicacies were packed as gifts.

— A specialized formation boat was located and commissioned by a merchant friend.

— Letters of introduction were sent with encoded messages in case diplomacy failed.

— And a twelve-layered protective formation amulet was made and shoved into Chung Hwa’s hands.

“You will take this,” Hyun Young said fiercely, voice thick with emotion, “and if anyone so much as tries to touch your hair the wrong way—you activate it. Understood?!”

Chung Hwa stared at the massive amulet, which probably glowed like a beacon.

“Understood,” he said softly, tucking it into his sleeves.

Hyun Jong approached last, quiet and serious.

“If you believe this is something you must do… then you go, Chung Hwa.” His gaze turned fond. “But know that all of Mount Hua will be waiting for your safe return.”

Chung Hwa bowed deeply. “Thank you, Sect Leader.”

—

Later that night, as he stood at the cliff’s edge, watching the moon shimmer over the horizon, Chung Hwa felt a presence beside him.

Chung Myung stood there, silent.

“…Tch. You better come back with both arms and all your hair.”

“I will.”

“And don’t make a scene. Just go, get your weird sea herbs, and come back.”

“I’ll try not to cause too much trouble.”

They stood in silence for a moment longer.

“Hey.” Chung Myung’s voice was quieter. “You really think they’ll listen to you? That they'll help?”

Chung Hwa’s eyes darkened like still water.

“If they don’t… I’ll make them.”

Chapter Text

The sun was barely rising as Chung Hwa stood before the gates of Mount Hua.

His robes fluttered softly in the wind, but he remained still, his expression calm, as if contemplating the vast horizon in front of him. In his hands, he held a small leather satchel containing essential items—mostly money, snacks, herbs, medicine, and a few precious relics—items that would help him survive on his journey. (He was able to leave some[most] of the things Elder Hyun Young gave him)

The sect had made sure he was well-equipped for what lay ahead, though it wasn’t much compared to the magnitude of the task.

The Southern Sea was a realm of mysteries and dangers, and the Sun Palace, a place of legend and secrecy.

Mount Hua’s disciples had gathered behind him, their faces filled with a mix of admiration, worry, and concern.

The disciples had never seen Chung Hwa this serious or calm; they had grown accustomed to his usual, carefree demeanor. Now, standing at the threshold of Mount Hua, he was something else entirely—someone beyond their understanding.

Baek Cheon, standing at the front, stepped forward and placed a hand on Chung Hwa’s shoulder. His voice was unusually soft. “Take care of yourself, Chung Hwa. If it’s really necessary for you to go, then go. But come back safely.”

Chung Hwa nodded, smiling gently. “I will, Baek Cheon Sasuk. I won’t let anything happen to me.”

The words felt almost like a promise, but they left a lingering weight in the air.

Hyun Jong’s gaze followed him from afar, and even Hyun Young—despite the excess of preparations—gave him a solemn nod, as if sending him off on an important mission that might change the course of Mount Hua’s future.

[He was just going to get materials from Sun Palace and come back, there was no need for something grand] - He thought.

Without another word, Chung Hwa turned, heading toward the path leading out of Mount Hua.

His pace was steady, his thoughts focused. He wasn’t one to make hasty decisions; his resolve was as steady as his footsteps.

The journey ahead would be long—no less than three months on foot—yet his mind was already ahead, planning for the obstacles he would inevitably face.

—

The first days of the journey were uneventful, almost too calm for his liking. The road was quiet, with only the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind.

His thoughts often drifted to the task at hand—recreating the Soulfire Rebirth Pill, a task so complex that it bordered on madness. But Chung Hwa was used to such challenges.

He had spent countless hours in the alchemy room, pouring over ancient texts, perfecting formulas, and creating concoctions that defied logic.

But this pill required more than mere skill; it required the rarest of ingredients, ingredients found only in the Southern Sea.

As the days wore on, the journey became more taxing.

The weather shifted, and soon the cold winds of the mountain passes gave way to the sweltering heat of the plains.

The terrain grew rougher, and Chung Hwa was forced to navigate through dense forests, rocky cliffs, and desolate valleys.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Chung Hwa found himself standing at the edge of a small river. He was tired but determined, his legs aching from the day’s travel.

He set up camp, pulling out the herbs and ingredients he had gathered so far and brewing a simple yet restorative tea to help him sleep.

It was then, as he sat by the fire, that the sound of footsteps reached his ears.

He turned, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. His eyes narrowed as a figure emerged from the shadows.

The person was cloaked in a dark robe, their face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. They moved with the grace of someone trained in the arts of combat. Chung Hwa didn’t relax; instead, he stood slowly, his posture alert.

The figure stopped at the edge of the campfire, studying him with sharp eyes.

“I wouldn’t recommend traveling so deep into the plains alone,” the figure said, their voice low and controlled.

Chung Hwa tilted his head slightly. “Why not?”

“Too many dangers in these parts,” the figure replied. “Robbers, wild beasts… even worse things.” They paused, narrowing their eyes. “You’re headed south, aren’t you?”

Chung Hwa didn’t flinch. “I am.”

The figure’s lips curled into a smirk, though their eyes remained hard. “If you’re going to the Southern Sea, you’ll need more than just strength. You’ll need allies. And you’ll need to be prepared for what waits beyond the horizon.”

Chung Hwa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied the figure closely. There was something about them—something familiar, yet hidden beneath layers of caution.

“And if I don’t need allies?” he asked.

The figure’s smirk faded. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Without another word, the figure turned and vanished into the night, leaving Chung Hwa with nothing but the flickering light of the fire to contemplate their cryptic warning.

The next morning, Chung Hwa packed up and continued his journey, the strange encounter leaving a faint unease in his chest.

But he knew better than to let it distract him. The road ahead was long, and he had a task to complete. The Sun Palace awaited—its mysteries and challenges only just beginning to reveal themselves.

—

One afternoon, Chung Hwa arrived at a modest village nestled between two mountains.

The village, though small, was lively, with farmers working the fields and children playing in the dirt roads. However, as he passed through the main street, he noticed an unusual commotion near the village square.

A group of villagers had gathered around an elderly man who appeared to have collapsed by the side of the road. The man’s face was pale, and he seemed to be struggling to breathe.

Chung Hwa’s gaze softened as he walked over to the crowd. He could see the panic in their eyes, but they seemed too hesitant to approach the elderly man. Without thinking, he knelt beside the man, examining his condition.

“What's happened to him?” Chung Hwa asked the villagers, his voice calm but firm.

“He… he’s been sick for days,” one of them explained nervously. “But no one here knows how to help him. We don’t have enough medicine…”

Chung Hwa’s eyes flickered over the old man’s body, noting the faint, dark markings on his skin. It wasn’t a common illness—it looked like a form of poison.

Reaching into his robe, he withdrew a small vial of medicine and pressed it into the old man’s mouth.

His hand glowed faintly with the qi he controlled, sending soothing warmth through the elderly man’s chest as the poison slowly began to dissipate.

Within moments, the elderly man’s color began to return, and his breathing steadied. The villagers watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with awe.

The old man opened his eyes slowly, blinking as he regained consciousness. “What… what happened?” he murmured, looking up at Chung Hwa with a mixture of confusion and gratitude.

“You’ve been poisoned,” Chung Hwa said calmly, rising to his feet. “But you’ll be fine now.”

The villagers gasped in amazement, and someone in the crowd whispered, “A healer… A true healer from the heavens…”

Before Chung Hwa could leave, a young woman stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Thank you, sir. We… we don’t have much, but we’d like to offer you our gratitude.”

Chung Hwa waved a hand dismissively. “No need for thanks. Just take care of him.”

As he turned to leave, he heard someone mutter under their breath, “The Healer of the South...”

Chung Hwa paused for a moment, but only for a moment. He had no intention of stopping here. Still, the words seemed to stick with him as he continued on his journey, unaware that, in the minds of the villagers, a new title had been born.

—

Several days later, in another village nestled by a large river, Chung Hwa stopped to rest after a long day’s walk.

As he strolled through the market, he noticed a commotion at a food stall. A man was arguing loudly with the merchant, accusing him of giving him spoiled goods.

Before the situation could escalate further, a young man darted out of the crowd and snatched a bag of rice from the merchant’s stall, attempting to flee.

Without thinking, Chung Hwa stepped forward and, using a swift motion, tripped the thief with a gentle kick to the ankle. The thief stumbled and fell, spilling the rice across the ground.

The merchant was about to shout, but Chung Hwa spoke before anyone could react. “I suggest you return what you took before it causes more trouble than it's worth.”

The thief, realizing he’d been caught, immediately dropped the rice and raised his hands in surrender. “I… I’m sorry! I just—”

Before the thief could explain himself further, Chung Hwa placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice kind but firm. “Taking what isn’t yours won’t solve your problems. If you truly need help, there’s no shame in asking. Stealing only makes you a burden to others.”

The young man’s eyes widened. “I… I didn’t know where else to turn. I lost my job, and I…”

Chung Hwa sighed, his expression softening. “I understand. But stealing will only create more suffering.”

Turning to the merchant, Chung Hwa spoke again, “Give him something to do. He needs work, not punishment.”

The merchant, after a long pause, nodded reluctantly. “I suppose… If he’s willing to help me clean the stalls for a few days, I could spare him some food.”

The thief hesitated, then nodded eagerly. “I’ll do it! I’ll work! Thank you, thank you!”

As the crowd dispersed, some of the villagers muttered in admiration, unaware that he had just been granted another title—the Redeemer of Lost Souls—Again, Chung Hwa never even noticed the growing rumors surrounding him. He simply continued on his way.

—

After weeks of traveling, Chung Hwa’s legs had grown weary, but his resolve remained unshaken.

It had been over a month since he had left Mount Hua, and the heat of the Southern Sea was now unmistakable.

His journey took him through cities and towns, where he continued to help anyone in need—healing the sick, offering guidance, and performing small acts of kindness that quickly spread his name across the region.

Finally, after a long and tiring journey, Chung Hwa arrived at Guangdong, the bustling harbor city that served as a gateway to the Southern Sea.

The air here was thick with the salty breeze of the ocean, and the docks were alive with activity. Ships of all sizes were anchored at the harbor, loading and unloading goods from faraway lands.

Chung Hwa made his way to the docks, his eyes scanning the ships.

There was a certain energy here—familiar yet foreign. He needed a ship, one that would carry him across the vast expanse of water to the Sun Palace, and he had a specific idea of what he wanted.

After a brief exchange with a local merchant, Chung Hwa purchased a mid-sized ship, one that was neither too large nor too small.

The ship was sturdy, built for long journeys, and equipped with all the necessary supplies for the voyage ahead. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was exactly what he needed.

The merchant handed over the ship’s papers, along with a small key to the captain’s quarters.

“It’s all yours now,” the merchant said with a smile. “May the wind be at your back.”

Chung Hwa nodded. “Thank you.”

“Young boy, I must remind you to be cautious in the south, that place is not friendly”

“I'll be fine”

The Southern Sea was a treacherous place, filled with unknown dangers.

But with his ship, he now had the means to travel there directly.

Chapter Text

As Chung Hwa stood at the docks, preparing to board his ship and set sail for the Southern Sea, he felt a familiar sense of anticipation.

The ship was ready, and the journey ahead, though daunting, was one he had planned for meticulously. His goal was clear: to reach the Sun Palace and acquire the rare materials needed for the pill he sought to recreate.

The winds were picking up, and the bustling harbor scene felt like a world of its own—a place where travelers, merchants, and adventurers came and went.

But just as he was about to step onto the ship’s gangplank, a voice called out to him from behind.

“Sir! Please wait!” The voice was calm but urgent, with an undertone of something more.

Chung Hwa turned, his sharp gaze scanning the figure that approached him. A man, tall and well-built, strode toward him with purposeful steps.

He was dressed in simple, but well-made clothing—a martial artist, by the looks of him. His movements were graceful, and his posture was one of discipline, though there was a certain air of nobility about him.

The man stopped before Chung Hwa, bowing slightly, his expression serious but respectful. “I apologize for the interruption, but I beg of you, if you are indeed headed to the Southern Sea Sun Palace, may I accompany you?”

Chung Hwa raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “You wish to accompany me? And why is that?”

The man straightened, his gaze unwavering. “My name is Yun Pyo, and I come from the Southern Sea. My daughter lies ill, gravely so. She is in need of a special medicine, one that can only be found in the Central Plains.”

He paused, his eyes reflecting a deep, quiet concern. “I traveled to the Central Plains seeking that medicine, but I have been unsuccessful. Time is of the essence, and I must return to her before it’s too late. I have no other way of reaching the Sun Palace in time.”

Chung Hwa studied the man carefully, sensing that there was more to his story than he was letting on.

The calmness in Yun Pyo’s demeanor suggested he was no ordinary man—he carried himself with the poise and dignity of someone accustomed to higher status, but there was a certain earnestness in his plea that could not be ignored.

“And why do you need my ship?” Chung Hwa asked, his tone even. “Surely, there are other ways to travel to the Southern Sea.”

Yun Pyo’s eyes darkened slightly, though his voice remained calm. “There are indeed other ways. However, it is difficult for someone like me to travel openly through certain regions without attracting… unwanted attention.”

At the mention of unwanted attention, Chung Hwa’s interest piqued. “What kind of attention are you talking about?”

Yun Pyo hesitated for a brief moment, then continued. “I come from a family with connections to the Sun Palace itself. I have reason to believe that my enemies may have learned of my search and are looking to prevent me from reaching my daughter. The journey by land would be too dangerous, and I can’t risk being intercepted. This is why I seek your help, sir.”

Chung Hwa regarded him quietly, mulling over his words. A nobleman’s family, from the Sun Palace, with enemies? It was all very suspicious, but something in Yun Pyo’s voice struck him as genuine.

He could sense the urgency in the man’s eyes—the kind of urgency that could only be born from a deep love for a family member.

“The Sun Palace,” Chung Hwa mused, his voice trailing off. “It’s a place few can enter. You must have powerful connections.”

Yun Pyo bowed his head slightly. “Indeed, I do. But those connections mean little when it comes to my daughter’s life. I am no one in the eyes of those who would harm her.”

Chung Hwa studied the man for a moment longer before nodding, his expression softening slightly. “I see. But understand this: I do not make this decision lightly. The Southern Sea is a long journey. If you come with me, it is not just for your own benefit. We will face dangers, and we will not be turning back once we set sail.”

Yun Pyo’s face remained stoic, but his eyes flashed with determination. “I understand, sir. And I am prepared for whatever comes my way. My daughter’s life is at stake.”

Chung Hwa met his gaze, his own expression calm but resolute. He could sense the sincerity in Yun Pyo’s words, but he also understood the importance of being cautious.

The man’s noble bearing and mention of enemies were enough to make him wary. Still, the urgency of the situation—and the fact that Yun Pyo’s mission aligned with his own—made it hard to ignore the man’s request.

After a long pause, Chung Hwa nodded. “Very well. You may join me. But remember, this journey will not be easy. And I will not tolerate any interference.”

Yun Pyo’s face softened slightly in gratitude. “Thank you, sir. You have my word.”

Chung Hwa motioned for Yun Pyo to follow as he boarded the ship. “Let us leave at once, then. We waste no time.”

As the ship set sail, Yun Pyo stood at the stern, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

He had accomplished what he set out to do—he had secured a way to reach the Sun Palace. But as he turned to glance at Chung Hwa, who stood quietly beside him, he wondered what kind of man he had truly tied himself to.

Chung Hwa, for his part, was already lost in his thoughts, preparing himself for the challenges ahead. But in the back of his mind, a single thought echoed: There is more to this man’s story than he lets on.

—

The journey across the sea had been long, with the gentle rocking of the ship and the endless horizon serving as the backdrop for the growing sense of urgency between Chung Hwa and Yun Pyo.

Days had passed since they left the harbor, and while the ship made steady progress, the time alone on the sea gave them plenty of time to converse, sharing stories and knowledge—though there was still an air of mystery around Yun Pyo’s situation.

Chung Hwa, ever the observant one, watched the man closely. Yun Pyo seemed calm enough, but there was an undeniable tension in his eyes whenever the topic of his daughter came up.

Something told Chung Hwa that this wasn’t just a father’s desperation; there was a deeper layer to his story that had yet to be revealed.

As the days passed, their conversations shifted. One afternoon, as the sun hung low on the horizon and the ship sailed steadily,

Chung Hwa turned to Yun Pyo, who had been gazing out over the sea.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Chung Hwa began, his voice quiet but steady. “What exactly is the Southern Sea Sun Palace like? I’ve heard many things about it, but little that I can trust. What kind of place is it?”

Yun Pyo’s gaze remained fixed on the sea, but his expression seemed to soften slightly, as though he were recalling something distant. “The Southern Sea Sun Palace is…”

He paused, considering his words carefully. “It is a place of great power and mystery. The palace itself is built on an island, surrounded by a vast expanse of water, mountains and thick forests. It is a place of martial excellence, where some of the most powerful martial artists and healers in the world reside.”

Chung Hwa nodded, his gaze unwavering. “And its reputation?”

Yun Pyo’s lips tightened. “It is revered by many, feared by others. The Sun Palace has its own way of doing things, its own code. It is a place where strength is valued above all, but it is also a place of profound healing. The Sun Palace’s martial arts techniques are unique—they rely on internal strength and the manipulation of fire-based Qi. But…”

He trailed off, his expression darkening, “it has also been isolated from the Central Plains for many years, especially after the fall of the Demonic Sect.”

Chung Hwa listened intently, sensing that there was more to Yun Pyo’s words than just an explanation of the palace’s structure. “I see. Sounds like a place steeped in history… both good and bad.”

Yun Pyo nodded gravely. “Yes. But what’s important now is the medicine. The Sun Palace is known for having rare herbs and techniques that no one else can replicate for sure, but- My daughter’s illness… it is one of the few things even they are uncertain about.”

At the mention of his daughter, Chung Hwa leaned forward slightly, his expression softening. “Illness?” he asked quietly. “What kind of disease is she suffering from?”

Yun Pyo looked at him then, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and worry. “It is a rare disease. It came on suddenly, and no matter what medicine we’ve tried, none of it has worked. Her symptoms are strange… there are dark red spots on her skin, like flowers blooming under her flesh. It spreads rapidly, and she is weakening by the day.”

Chung Hwa’s heart skipped a beat. His thoughts immediately flashed back to the Demon Flower Disease—or Mahwa.

It was a disease he knew all too well, one that was caused by exposure to demonic qi. It left the body in a state of decay, and no one had been able to find a cure for it.

He had treated people who had fallen ill with it before, but the disease was insidious, and only the right combination of medicine and energy control could halt its progression.

The realization hit him quickly, and he turned to Yun Pyo, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You say the symptoms began suddenly? Dark red spots on the skin, like flowers?”

Yun Pyo’s face was tight with emotion as he nodded. “Yes. Exactly. It’s spreading so fast… I fear that time is running out for her, this disease also had been appearing suddenly in Sun Palace,”

Chung Hwa’s expression softened, though his mind was already racing. He knew this disease well,he had treated two individuals who were afflicted with it after all. His eyes softened as he spoke.

“I’ve treated people with this disease before,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “It’s called Mahwa. I’ve seen it before, and I know how to treat it.”

Yun Pyo’s eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching for a moment as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You… you can treat it?” His voice was filled with a mixture of hope and awe.

Chung Hwa nodded, his mind already focused on the preparations that would be needed. “Yes. I have a method to treat it, though it will require the right materials and a certain level of skill. I have a few techniques in mind that can halt its progress, if you're fine with it, I wouldn't mind lending my hand.”

Yun Pyo stared at him, his heart pounding in his chest. The weight of his daughter’s condition had been unbearable, and he had traveled far and wide in search of someone who might be able to help.

But here, in front of him, was someone who not only knew of the disease but had the means to treat it.

“I… I can’t thank you enough,” Yun Pyo said, his voice thick with emotion. “I only wanted to get to the Sun Palace in time to find a solution since there were no solutions in the Central Plains, but now… now I see that I may not need to rely on them after all.”

Chung Hwa’s expression remained calm, but inside, he felt a flicker of satisfaction.

He knew that the journey ahead was far from simple, but helping Yun Pyo would be one of the reasons he couldn’t turn back now. The stakes had just risen, and he would not fail—especially when it came to something as critical as this.

“We’ll get to the Sun Palace,” Chung Hwa said, his voice steady and confident. “And when we do, I’ll help you save your daughter.”

Yun Pyo nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude. For the first time in a long while, there was a glimmer of hope in his heart. “Thank you… truly.”

The ship sailed on, its sails billowing in the wind as the two men shared a quiet moment of understanding.

For Chung Hwa, this was just another step in the journey. But for Yun Pyo, it was the first real hope he had held onto in months.

And as the Southern Sea loomed closer, the promise of healing, and perhaps redemption, stood just beyond the horizon.

Chapter Text

After ten grueling days at sea, the silhouette of a massive island rose from the misty horizon like the back of a great beast.

It was vast—a landmass that could easily be mistaken for a small continent, crowned with mist-covered mountains, deep emerald jungles, and dotted with massive coastal cities that gleamed like gemstones in the sunlight.

The harbor city they docked in was one of the largest Chung Hwa had ever seen—Sun’s Rise Port, the outer stronghold of the famed Southern Sea Sun Palace.

It was said that the island’s heart burned with an ancient fire, and as the sea breeze mixed with the scent of salt and herbs, Chung Hwa could believe it.

As they stepped off the ship, Yun Pyo stood straighter, his demeanor subtly shifting as though he had finally returned to his true domain. He took a deep breath and turned to Chung Hwa.

“Welcome to the Sun Palace’s land, Chung Hwa. This… is only the beginning,” he said, his voice soft but resonant with meaning.

Chung Hwa's gaze wandered, sharp and calculating. The city was a symphony of vibrant silk-robed civilians, martial artists bearing sun-crested insignias, and countless medicinal stalls, blacksmiths, and alchemists lining the carved stone streets. Even the architecture glowed—a balance between artistry and ferocity, with fire motifs etched into every corner.

Yun Pyo guided him through winding lanes, across wide bridges arching over steaming canals, and past bustling market squares brimming with rare herbs, materials, and scrolls.

Chung Hwa absorbed it all with calm curiosity, his sleeves gently swaying with each step, his sharp black eyes darting across every stall and every face.

Eventually, he asked, “Do you know where I might find Sea-Severed Coral or Southern Azure Flame Lily?”

Yun Pyo halted mid-step, turning to glance at him with a surprised tilt of the head. “Those are incredibly rare… especially the coral. Few have permission to harvest it from the Southern Sea Trench, and the lilies bloom only in the volcanic valleys of the southern range. Why?”

Chung Hwa’s answer was simple, his gaze still fixed on the surrounding herbs.
“I’m recreating a pill.”

Yun Pyo raised a brow. “A pill?”

“The Soulfire Rebirth Pill,” Chung Hwa said calmly.

That stopped Yun Pyo in his tracks.

“...You’re attempting to recreate that?” he asked, almost in disbelief. “That’s… a pill of legend. Said to reignite crippled meridians, revive fading Qi… even save those teetering on spiritual death. It hasn’t been seen in centuries.”

Chung Hwa nodded as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I’ve found scattered records. The formula was incomplete. But I have theories. And if I can find the right materials…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Yun Pyo stared at him for a long moment before breaking into a quiet, nearly incredulous laugh. “You truly are something else.”

They spent the rest of the day weaving through the city, Yun Pyo introducing Chung Hwa to the layout and teaching him the unwritten rules of this land.

The people here operated with a strict hierarchy, but they also respected strength and skill—and while Central Plains credentials meant little, the ability to prove oneself could open doors even without a name.

After gathering a few leads on lesser materials, Yun Pyo brought out a hand-drawn map from within his robe and pointed at a sprawling dot near the center of the island.

“Our next stop is here. The Central Flame City—the heart of the Sun Palace. It’s where I live… and where my daughter is waiting.”

Chung Hwa looked at the map, measuring the scale. “Distance?”

“Six days by carriage,” Yun Pyo replied. “We’ll ride at dawn. I’ve already arranged for a vehicle and horses.”

“And your daughter?”

Yun Pyo’s voice softened. “As I said she’s… barely hanging on. Her energy’s unstable, and even our best healers don’t dare to touch her meridians anymore. That’s why I left in the first place. But now… I have hope.”

Chung Hwa placed a hand behind his back, glancing to the horizon. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

And so, as the last rays of the sun dipped behind the island’s volcanic peaks, the two set off—one seeking salvation for his child, the other chasing a dream lost to time, cloaked in flame and legend.

And though neither could yet know what waited in the heart of the Southern Sea Sun Palace… both of their fates had already begun to burn in the same fire.

—

The road to Central Flame City was long and treacherous, winding through dense forests and rugged terrain that seemed to stretch endlessly under the fading light.

The air smelled of earth and brine, the scent of the sea ever-present in the air.