#46: Once-in-a-Lifetime Meeting — Flowers Don't Bloom Red for Ten Days

“Do you think I’ve gone mad right now?”

“No, I… uh…”

When Yun-seon scratched his head in embarrassment, Ma Sepung feigned offense and gave him a sharp sideways glance.

“Then just think of it as the wish of a senile old man—try this once on that fellow.”

He suddenly yanked on Yun-seon’s ear and whispered at length, spittle flying. As Yun-seon listened in an awkward pose, his expression grew darker by the moment.

“What are those guys doing?”

Uneasy, the slit-eyed man asked the Deputy Hall Master. Heo Yun, hands clasped behind his back, replied calmly.

“Hmph, just playing petty tricks. His internal power may be great, but with no external skill, the match is already decided.”

Seeing the Deputy Hall Master’s confidence, the man felt reassured. He shrugged smugly, already imagining stuffing three hundred cloves of garlic into Yun-seon’s mouth once he fell. The thought alone made him grin.

“Can this really work?”

Yun-seon asked with doubt, and Ma Sepung snapped back with a pout.

“Try it first, then talk. You young folks are far too suspicious.”

Well, nothing to lose. With his current skill, he was no match for such a master. Palm-force was a dream, and swordplay would be no different. All he knew was the Water-Moon-Heart Sword he’d studied for three years under Ju-un. Even that—since she was such a poor teacher—was only at a rudimentary level.

“Thank you for waiting.”

Returning with an uncertain face, Yun-seon bowed lightly to Heo Yun. He took his stance again—just as clumsy as before—showing he had no brilliant tricks.

‘I hoped otherwise, but indeed just a base fool.’

Heo Yun had no desire to drag it out. He formed different mudras with each hand to finish it in one strike—planning to break a few bones and end it. The vengeful disciples would handle the aftermath; he needn’t stain his hands.

“Dragon’s-Hand Palm, Fourth Form: Dragon-Tiger Shoulder; Fifth Form: Dragon-Tiger Cross-Sever!”

He muttered the names, then spun his hands faster than sight. By the time Yun-seon’s eyes tracked his fingers, the surging force was already released. A wind far stronger than before arose, whipping up a sand-like whirlwind that blurred the area. Through it, Yun-seon’s figure could be glimpsed pushed back several feet.

Thud!

“Finished!”

Heo Yun released the mudra with a satisfied smile. Even if not fatal, the man surely couldn’t walk for a while. This was a peerless technique he’d honed for a lifetime, enough to face the Five Great Mountain Swords. That his opponent was a nameless rustic felt awkward, but perhaps it was an honor for him.

“Tch, clumsy boy—off by just half a step.”

At the old man’s tongue-click, Heo Yun glanced back—and saw Yun-seon brushing dust from his pants, standing. He had clearly struck the dantian, yet here he was.

The next instant, Heo Yun faced another impossibility. As he tilted his head in confusion, Yun-seon’s face was suddenly within a sheet’s breadth of his own.

“Huh?”

Heo Yun stumbled back, shielding his face with both arms—but what met them was Yun-seon’s fist.

Wham!

“Ugh!”

Though clumsy, it carried over a tenth of his qi in fist-force—far beyond a normal punch. Heo Yun’s face swelled instantly as it snapped half-around. Spitting a mouthful of blood, he lost four molars in a spray.

“Deputy Hall Master!”

The disciples rushed to lift him from the floor. Red with shame, he tried to shout, but his swollen cheeks and lips made it sound like baby babble.

‘What tremendous focused, surging power…’

Yun-seon stared at his right fist in awe. Qi too much for palm-force was easily borne through a punch—remarkable indeed. He had thought the gluttonous old man just that, but he was surely a hidden master.

“Shall I make you fresh noodles?”

Overjoyed, Yun Seol skipped over and plopped her chin in her hands before them, her face bright with smiles where worry had creased it moments ago.

“J-just… y-you’ll see…”

The slit-eyed man couldn’t face Yun-seon directly, muttering nonsense sideways. Then, with another man carrying the battered Deputy Hall Master on his back, they vanished like the wind.

“Old man, just what are you really?”

Excited, Yun Seol trotted back and clung to his arm. She had thought him a foul-tempered beggar, but no master compared. Knowing most sects’ martial arts, she still couldn’t gauge his qi from just one move. The more she thought on it, the more wondrous it seemed.

“Who else? The great sect leader of Yellow Stone Sect.”

“Huh? Grandfather!”

As Seong Gon entered the inn, Yun-seon quickly bowed. But Seong Gon didn’t even look his way, waving him off, glaring instead at Ma Sepung with crab-like eyes full of displeasure.

He should have arrived last night, but delays left him free only by dawn. Tired and worried, he was already irritated—and the appearance of an unexpected figure left him speechless.

“You’ve grown so fat I nearly didn’t recognize you. Soon you’ll be rolling down Yellow Stone Mountain.”

Seong Gon sat heavily at Ma Sepung’s table, face full of sulk. With this bizarre old man involved, troubles would only multiply.

“Oi, long time. You’ve aged miserably. A kind heart keeps the wrinkles off—but you’re hopeless.”

Yun-seon was more shocked by their relationship than Ma Sepung’s identity. If this old man was truly one of the Five Great Mountain Sword leaders, then he was the natural enemy of Yun-seon’s sect master. They should be fighting at first sight—yet here they were trading jests.

“No way, this geezer?”

Too stunned, Yun Seol blurted her thoughts. Yun-seon scolded her for rudeness, but Ma Sepung waved it off.

“No wonder you’re so quarrelsome—turns out you’re this fellow’s granddaughter. And come to think of it, your faces do look alike.”

He chuckled, pointing back and forth between them. Ignoring it, Seong Gon quietly rose and returned from the kitchen with two wine jars, each the size of a child’s head.

“Enough. Let’s share a drink, it’s been a while.”

“Gladly!”

As if rehearsed, the two old men clinked jars and drank deep without pause. Yun-seon, never having seen Seong Gon drink or joke, stared wide-eyed in shock.

“They’re lifelong friends.”

Yun Seol sidled up and poked his ribs.

“Funny, isn’t it? Two people who should be sworn enemies, yet they’re each other’s only confidant. Hard to believe unless you see it yourself.”

Yun-seon felt a sudden envy. Their long history was unknown, but after ten years apart they spoke as if it was yesterday. Between them there was no nation, no ideology, no grand ideals—only friendship.

“That boy yours?”

After long swigs, Ma Sepung jerked his chin toward Yun-seon.

“Picked up what was discarded.”

Reading his intent in the gaze toward Yun-seon, Seong Gon smirked. Even having taught him a fragment of Yellow Stone Sect’s Soul’s Eminence Fist made it clear: Ma Sepung wanted him.

“Then, give him to me!”

As expected, Ma Sepung grabbed his sleeve and begged. If his gluttony was excessive, so was his greed for disciples. He was utterly fixated on Yun-seon, face and pride forgotten. Even he had doubted, but when Yun-seon reproduced a third of the Soul’s Eminence Fist’s first form, his mind was set.

“Too precious for that.”

Seong Gon, knowing his nature, feigned indifference, baiting him. He would yield Yun-seon eventually, but for now he wanted to raise the price.

Truthfully, Seong Gon was frustrated that Yun-seon’s arm prevented full use of Taiyi Divine Art. No matter the inner power, without external application it was useless. His studies had led him to one conclusion: fist-force endured strong qi better than palm-force. Yet he himself had no talent for it.

The pinnacle of fist-force was undoubtedly this eccentric old man, Ma Sepung. No one else could pass the Yellow Stone Sect’s inner techniques to an outsider. Yet meeting him was rarer than being struck by lightning twice. Seong Gon had nearly given up—when he appeared, insisting on teaching Yun-seon before being asked. He could hardly contain his laughter.

“What am I to do…”

Ma Sepung, already aflame with desire, chewed his thumbnail and tapped his foot. Meeting one worthy of inheriting his supreme martial art was rarer than catching stars. And Yun-seon cooked well besides—two birds with one stone! His mind already soared with visions of teaching him.

“Fine! Then how about this?”

“What?”

Seong Gon glanced down with disinterest, expecting another treasured saber or sword bribe.

“I’ll give you Yellow Stone Sect’s treasure, the Sun’s Wisdom Sword!”

“Hmph!”

Seong Gon snorted as he swallowed his drink.

“Then how about this? The ultimate elixir, Yellow Stone Ginseng!”

“……”

When he turned away entirely this time, Ma Sepung grew desperate.

“No helping it. This was my final secret…”

Just as Seong Gon thought it enough and turned back—

“Unpyeong Escort Bureau!”