Chapter 86

Startled by the sudden verbal assault, Seo Tae-gon doubted his own ears.

By contrast, Seo Nak-il felt as if a decade-old weight had been lifted from his chest.

“What did you just say?”

“Stop that ridiculous posturing and be grateful when someone offers help.”

“…”

Since taking his place as head of the Brahmacharya Clan, had he ever heard words like that?

No—absolutely not. To call the head of the Shaolin Eight Barricades such nonsense? Who would speak like that unless utterly shameless?

But the problem wasn’t the words—it was the man who spoke them.

Seo Tae-gon didn’t know it yet, but Yeon Mujin was the sort of man who spoke his mind regardless of rank—whether facing the Family Lord of the Bukgung Family, a sect head, or the patriarch of a famed martial house. He cared nothing for the dignity of the Shaolin branch leader, least of all for formalities.

“So you’re saying you came from the Bukgung Family…?”

“Bukgung means nothing to me. What does Bukgung have to do with your house going under? Your whole hut burned down and you have nothing but an old pot left—what dignity are you trying to cling to now?”

In an instant, the Shaolin branch’s Brahmacharya Clan was reduced to the level of a neighborhood beggar camp. The insult was suffocating and absurd; it left him too stunned to be properly angry.

“The situation has already slipped from your hands, Clan leader Seo. Didn’t Shaolin order you to fold up your affairs? Do you really think, as a mere branch, you can defy the main hall and resolve this on your own?”

“Watch your tongue. The main hall is stepping in to clarify the matter on Brahmacharya Clan’s behalf.”

“Bullshit. Shaolin doing that? I know those people—they wouldn’t lift a finger for anyone else; they’d call it filth and throw it away. Why would they clean up another’s mess? From their point of view, it’s better to cover the fault and discard it. Understand?”

Yeon Mujin said it with a smile.

His smile didn’t match the cruelty of his words.

“Brahmacharya Clan is finished. You ruined it; it’s still collapsing, and at this rate everything will be stripped away. The people of Soju will feast—there’s always more to take from a ruined house than to celebrate.”

Yeon Mujin casually pushed the teacup he was holding to the side.

Without meaning to, Seo Nak-il acted as a coaster and caught the cup.

“Fine. Whether you, Clan leader Seo, run charities or smear excrement in the street is your business, but I care about our deputy captain’s dignity. You have no strength left. From your face it seems you haven’t accomplished much until you ended up like this. Now I’ll give you choices. Pick one.”

Yeon Mujin extended both hands. He slapped Seo Nak-il’s palm, forcing Nak-il to extend the hand that held the teacup.

“The clan leader has three choices.”

He waved his left hand.

“First, struggle on without Shaolin’s help and perish.”

Then he waved his right hand.

“Second, be lectured and insulted by those stiff-necked Shaolin gentlemen and still perish.”

Then he shook Seo Nak-il’s hand and added,

“Third, your son—or more precisely, with my help—narrowly escapes death.”

Seo Tae-gon stared at the three hands Yeon had waved before him. He couldn’t fathom what was happening. One question naturally followed.

“Yeon Mujin… are you implying the Family Lord has a way to resolve this situation?”

“Me? Of course I do. Bow to me if you must. I am your benefactor.”

A benefactor, he said.

Seo Tae-gon remembered praying to the Vairocana Buddha for a benefactor—but he hadn’t imagined the benefactor would arrive with a rag in his mouth.

As he pondered, Yeon Mujin said a single sentence.

“I know that Clan leader Seo’s reputation is a false accusation.”

Seo Tae-gon felt something hot and unbearable rise in his throat. A false accusation. How many nights had he spent awake, all for the sake of hearing that one word? The shame of the Brahmacharya Clan’s sullied honor, the self-reproach as a father, the disgrace as a believer—even the main hall, Shaolin, had doubted him.

Yet, apart from his family, no one had told him he was falsely accused. A stranger’s passing remark comforted him more than friends, colleagues, or even the main hall had.

“The External Protection Troops’ captain is…”

When Seo Tae-gon opened his mouth his voice was damp and hoarse. Seo Nak-il felt his chest tighten hearing his father’s weakness; it was not easy for a son to see.

“On what basis do you assert it’s a false accusation?”

“On the rumors themselves.”

Yeon Mujin’s answer was succinct. “Before coming here I walked the streets of Soju and made inquiries. Everyone was pointing at Brahmacharya Clan and cursing.”

“That’s right.”

Seo Tae-gon bowed his head in shame.

“Isn’t that strange?”

“…?”

“How could mere rumor spread so widely? It’s odd—people would snap and curse Brahmacharya Clan like you’d provoke a passing dog. That’s truly strange. Generally, for someone of the head’s station—whether he molested a woman or got into a gambling brawl—people in the martial world hush it up. Why? Because no one wants to stick their neck out and be targeted. Infamy doesn’t spread so easily in our circles.”

“Ah!”

Seo Nak-il let out a low exclamation beside him.

Now that he thought about it, it was true. Brahmacharya Clan hadn’t just appeared in Soju yesterday; its presence carried weight in town.

So how did such a rumor spread so thoroughly? Rumors are like wind that shakes branches; if the root is firm, the tree doesn’t tremble.

Yeon Mujin asked, “Do you know the saying ‘Three Men Make a Tiger’—sam-in-seong-ho? It means three people’s lies can create a tiger that doesn’t exist.”

Seo Tae-gon’s whole body trembled at the words. Could it be…

“Let me ask one more thing,” Yeon Mujin said with the same smile. “If there are people who most want Brahmacharya Clan to fall, who would they be?”

Seo Nak-yeon, who’d been dragged back to her quarters in tears, encountered yet another surprise there.

“Brother is back?”

It meant Brahmacharya Clan’s eldest son, Seo Nak-il, had returned.

“With what face dares he return!”

He had left saying he hated the temple-like household. After he left, Seo Nak-yeon had borne all the burdens as Brahmacharya Clan’s sole heir—watching her every step, listening dutifully to sermons, and endlessly training in martial arts. The responsibilities the eldest son should have carried had fallen entirely on her.

“Why on earth did you come back?”

“I called him.”

Seo Nak-yeon’s mother said, “The main hall faces an existential crisis; Nak-il ought to know about this.”

“How could a brother who ran off be any help!”

Her mother’s gaze grew sharp at Seo Nak-yeon’s harsh words.

“Don’t speak so carelessly. If your brother has brought guests, it will surely be of help.”

‘Help, my foot!’ Seo Nak-yeon swallowed her retort and headed straight for the Guest Hall. A brother who hadn’t shown his face while the main hall was threatened now returned only after the decision to close the gates, just to save face?

She couldn’t stand it. She’d been the one to protect their parents while he was gone.

‘He must have been out gallivanting and now dares to come back. Has that useless brother really settled into any respectable post?’

She had practically severed ties with him after he left home; she no longer cared where or how he lived.

Part of her thought it deserved—she had devoted her life to preserving the family’s honor. If he now crawled back to claim a place, she would never accept it.

‘He’s too ashamed to come back alone; he surely brought some hanger-on with him. I won’t tolerate it.’

She saw her father walking out of the Guest Hall. Behind him were a large, armor-clad warrior carrying a great burden and a dog-faced man wearing a sword.

Seo Nak-yeon was momentarily taken aback. ‘Was my brother always that big?’

His well-trained body, rugged features, even the pained look toward their father—he was a far cry from the boy she remembered.

At that moment Seo Nak-il met her gaze.

“Nak-yeon?”

Seo Nak-yeon saw many emotions flit across her brother’s face. She deliberately averted her eyes and steeled herself.

“What brings you to this humble place, young master Seo?”

Her slight made his face wince. Seo Nak-yeon felt a prickling pleasure inside—if a single word could wound him, she would gladly strike him a hundred times.

But then Seo Tae-gon pointed to Yeon Mujin and said,

“Nak-yeon, greet him. He’s a guest from the Bukgung Family.”

“…!”

Bukgung Family!

Seo Nak-yeon was stunned. Wasn’t it the famed Bukgung Family? Yet no matter how she looked at Yeon Mujin, he appeared little more than a wanderer—slovenly, with a crooked gaze and a martial robe slung over him.

Yeon Mujin lounged in his sash and offered a greeting. “I am Yeon Mujin of the Bukgung Family’s Flying Swallow Manor.”

Following his greeting, Seo Nak-il reluctantly bowed. “I am Seo Nak-il of the Bukgung Family’s Flying Swallow Manor.”

This bow was far more astonishing than the last.

‘My brother is part of the Bukgung Family?’

“It seems Nak-il became a deputy captain of the Bukgung Family’s External Protection Troops.”

“A deputy captain of the Bukgung Family…?”

Seo Nak-yeon tried hard not to be cowed. ‘Even if he’s a deputy captain, it’s surely a lowly position. What kind of deputy captain is my brother?’

“How many people are in the External Protection Troops?”

“About ten.”

Hearing that, the corner of Seo Nak-yeon’s mouth twitched upward. With that size, it was surely a trivial organization.

“You’ve done well for a Little Master Seo. Still, being with the Bukgung Family means you won’t starve—that’s fortunate. Good for you.”

Having spat out the cruel words, Seo Nak-yeon sent an imploring glance to her father. ‘That’s enough—hurry and chase them away, Father!’

But cruelly, Seo Tae-gon said the opposite of what she hoped.

“Young master Yeon has expressed his willingness to help our Brahmacharya Clan.”

“What?”

“You should help Little Master Yeon.”

“…Yes?”

Help him? Who? With what?

“Little Master Yeon says he will help Brahmacharya Clan clear its name.”

‘Do you believe that, Father?!’

Only two people at most, and they are just lowly members of the Bukgung Family—what could they possibly achieve?

Seo Nak-yeon shook her head stubbornly, hoping her wishes would reach her father. But seeing his face, she could not refuse. Seeing her father’s weakness was not easy, even for a daughter.

“Please, Nak-yeon.”

“…”