#27: Do It. Don’t Waver (2) — Return Of The Mount Hua Sect: Special Side Story

“Then let’s go back.”

“Yes.”

Seok Han-Bin and Chung Myung turned and walked side by side.

They didn’t speak for a while. Chung Myung had his own matters to sort out, and Seok Han-Bin—no, Yu Han-Bin—had things he needed to deal with as well.

After walking in silence for some time, Chung Myung suddenly seemed to remember something and glanced back at Seok Han-Bin.

“Come to think of it, there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Curious about what?”

“Not so much curiosity as something I don’t understand. Never mind.”

Chung Myung looked at Seok Han-Bin.

“You—why did you swindle those Black Fish Clan bastards?”

“Suddenly?”

At Seok Han-Bin’s puzzled look, Chung Myung narrowed his brow.

“At first I didn’t think much of it either, but now it seems strange. It looks like that wasn’t the only way you could have made money.”

“…”

“Was it necessary to go out of your way to stab the Black Fish Clan in the back and invite Tanger in?”

“Ah, well.”

Seok Han-Bin gave a sheepish laugh.

“Um… to be honest, I was just a bit pissed off.”

“Pissed off? At the Black Fish Clan?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Even though we’ve severed ties, those black-robed bastards are brazenly occupying the old Yu family’s manor. Even if we can’t drive them out, we should at least make life difficult for them.”

“Ah, I see. So that’s why…”

Chung Myung stopped in his tracks.

“Taoist?”

“What did you just say?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The manor… the place those Black Fish Clan bastards live—didn’t it originally belong to the Shandong Yu family?”

“Yes. I don’t remember it clearly, but my father said so.”

Seok Han-Bin added, almost apologetically.

“Of course, they did buy it properly with money, so my being pissed off isn’t exactly justified. I know it’s petty… still, I just hated it.”

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Seok Han-Bin sneaked a glance at Chung Myung.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… taoist?”

“…Somehow. For a den of black-robed bastards, the house did look old-fashioned.”

Chung Myung murmured, half to himself.

“So it really was a noble family’s manor. The Shandong Yu family… yes, the Shandong Yu family… huh?”

Suddenly Chung Myung tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“You said that place was the Shandong Yu family’s manor?”

“Yes. As far as I know.”

“Then back then everyone of the Shandong Yu family would have been born there, right?”

“I suppose so?”

“If that’s the case, then that place is…”

It would be the birthplace of Chung Mun sahyung. And those black-robed bastards dared to use it.

“Huh…”

Chung Myung’s eyes glittered strangely as he silently rolled up his sleeves.

“….”

Seo Gun-Hong got to his feet quietly.

He scanned the room with extreme caution. Nothing stirred but the soft rhythm of breathing.

Stupid bastards.

Even injured, he couldn’t believe they’d stuffed him into such a tiny infirmary and left him unwatched. He’d confirmed no one had been posted outside, yet he still held his breath against any unforeseen arrival.

After waiting, his chance came. Now he could leave without anyone knowing. He had endured humiliation for this single opportunity.

First, get out of here.

Seo Gun-Hong rose carefully.

Thinking of the Mount Hua Divine Dragon’s iron grip, he knew another chance to escape whole-limbed might never return. It didn’t matter; he had seized the only opening he’d get. If he could slip out of Jinan and put enough distance between himself and Mount Hua’s notice, he could live the rest of his life in comfort.

He had hidden quite a fortune.

This is why young bastards never clean up properly.

Wearing a triumphant grin that his swollen face barely suggested, Seo Gun-Hong ground his teeth.

“Just wait, Mount Hua bastards. I’ll make you pay someday.”

Of course, the day he could face them by force might never come, but the martial world wasn’t only about brute strength; he could find a way to make them suffer.

“I’ll make you all painfully realize what kind of man Seo Gun-Hong is, and how huge your mistake was…”

Bang!

The door was thrown open as if it would splinter.

“Uh…”

Seo Gun-Hong stared at the figure framed in the doorway.

“No… why…”

Chung Myung of the Mount Hua Divine Dragon stood there, expressionless.

“Um…”

“…”

“I really just thought about it…”

Suddenly Chung Myung crooked his mouth into a small smile.

“Ah, it’s fine. They say even a king is cursed where no one hears it. Do I look like someone who sulks over that?”

“If that’s the case, then that’s a relief…”

“But besides that.”

“Yes?”

Chung Myung’s face twisted instantly into something fierce—so demonic that Seo Gun-Hong’s nickname ‘Two-faced Demon’ seemed mild by comparison.

“First, take a beating! You Evil Sect bastard!”

Chung Myung lunged like a mad dog.

Seo Gun-Hong reflexively clutched his chest and screamed.

“No! Why! Why! Why all of a sudden!”

“Shut up! You Evil Sect bastard! How dare a filthy Evil Sect bastard sit his ass down there! Die! Die! Drop dead, you bastard!”

“Aaargh! Why! Aaaaah! Why are you hitting me… Aaaaah!”

A small clinic in eastern Jinan filled sadly with unexpected screams.

“…You said you want to study?”

“Yes.”

“So… study?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Truly?”

“….”

The Mount Hua disciples stared at Seok Han-Bin, whose face had soured, then hauled Chung Myung out by the arms and rushed from the house.

“What did you do, you lunatic!”

“No, what are you suddenly talking about?”

“What the hell did you do to get the kid to say he wants to study!”

“Did you beat him? You already beat him?”

“Or what? Did you threaten him? Say you’d kill him if he didn’t study? Otherwise…”

Exasperated, Chung Myung shoved them off and snapped.

“What do you take me for! Do I look like someone who’d do that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly, it’s hard to say you definitely wouldn’t.”

“…Well, that’s true.”

Still, with a shred of conscience, Chung Myung admitted it and then groaned.

“I really persuaded him nicely.”

“Are you sure? I thought I heard a pig being slaughtered from afar yesterday.”

“That wasn’t him. Someone else.”

“Among all that, you still managed to beat someone.”

“You always exceed imagination. I truly admire you.”

Chung Myung snorted and waved a hand.

“And speak clearly. If he’d been beaten by me, would he be this fine?”

“…True.”

That meant Seok Han-Bin had truly changed his mind.

Is that even possible?

Baek Cheon swallowed and asked, “What on earth did you say to him?”

“Well, that’s not the important part. The important thing is that he changed his mind.”

“Ugh.”

For now, Chung Myung was right—that was the main point.

“Sending him to study… do you plan to put him into government service?”

“If that’s what he thinks.”

“A government post, you say… then he’d need to take the civil service exam. Are you thinking of sending him to a school?”

Chung Myung looked sulky at Baek Cheon.

“Dong-Ryong, Dong-Ryong. You clueless fellow… do you think we’d go through all this if that were an option?”

“…Probably not.”

What would happen if that kid were let loose in a school? He didn’t want to imagine it. Even if Seok Han-Bin claimed to have changed, people don’t change that easily; innocent victims would pile up.

“So what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean, ‘what am I going to do’? We don’t even know if he can study well. Just grab someone here and have them teach him. From the looks of it, he’s illiterate.”

Baek Cheon nodded slowly.

“Who?”

“Someone here…”

“I said, who?”

“Huh?”

Chung Myung’s gaze swept over everyone—from Baek Cheon to Tang Soso and even Hae Yeon—and he looked at each of them with an unmistakable pleased smile.

“In any case, these are the kind of bastards you’d be ashamed to show off anywhere…”

“Who are you calling that!”

“Honestly, we’re more educated than you!”

“Amitabha. Even I feel wronged.”

“Enough. Usual rubbish.”

Chung Myung sighed.

“Why not just invite a decent teacher for writing?”

At Tang Soso’s question, Baek Cheon sighed deeply.

“Who would take him on, though…?”

“True. He’s annoyingly infamous.”

Not every writing teacher would accept a pupil, and given Seok Han-Bin’s reputation, it would probably take ages to find someone willing to take him on—if they could find one at all.

“Hmm. If it’s really impossible, maybe I should contact the person I used to study under.”

“Ah, someone who’d be in Sichuan…”

Baek Cheon blinked and looked at Tang Soso.

“Soso, have you ever learned writing?”

“A little. Well, just because we’re martial folks doesn’t mean we only swing swords. Isn’t that so… Ah, sorry. I misspoke.”

Tang Soso hurried to correct herself as everyone averted their eyes on cue.

“I was raised an orphan. My father didn’t teach me. I memorized some sutras though…”

“S-stop! But why are you slyly roping in monk Hae Yeon? He honestly lived quite comfortably!”

Tang Soso groaned and turned away. In that case, there was no choice…

“Huh?”

She tilted her head and noticed someone standing there, at a loss for words—Jo Gul.

“What about Jo Gul sahyung?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come to think of it, didn’t sahyung study writing?”

It was asked with little expectation, but Jo Gul scratched the back of his head.

“Study of writing… well, I did about as much as others.”

Tang Soso’s eyes widened.

“‘As much as others’ meaning how much? Thousand Character Classic?”

“What are you talking about! You know where I come from.”

Jo Gul frowned and lowered his voice.

“I finished the Four Books. I couldn’t master the Five Classics because I came to Mount Hua.”

“You finished the Four Books? Really? I couldn’t even finish them myself.”

“What’s there to brag about for having finished the Four Books? Most decent families do that… Fine! I get it! I’m sorry!”

Startled by the Mount Hua orphan alliance’s stare, Jo Gul waved his hands in alarm.

“By the way, you finished the Four Books?”

“Come to think of it, he used to seem pretty smart and arrogant.”

“Now that I think about it, I thought the same back then. A clever kid joined, so I figured he’d be fine for the Chung disciples, etc.”

“What’re you talking about, old stories.”

Jo Gul scratched his head awkwardly.

“How did it come to this…”

“Yeah, how did it end up like this…”

“Excuse me?”

Chung Myung snapped his fingers.

“Then it’s settled. Jo Gul sahyung can teach him.”

“Me? You want me to teach him?”

“Why? You said you learned. Aren’t you confident in teaching?”

Jo Gul flared up for a moment.

“What are you saying! I just haven’t had the chance, but I’m much more confident teaching than you are. I’ll show you what it means when I teach!”

Jo Gul’s eyes blazed.

“Confucius said—‘To eat coarse food and drink water, to bend one’s arm and use it as a pillow—there is pleasure in such living.’ Now, what does this mean?”

Seok Han-Bin’s head snapped to the side.

“Mental victory?”

“….”

“Or a beggar’s mindset?”

“Ugh…”

Jo Gul’s hand trembled on the book.

“Think carefully! To become rich and noble by unjust means is to me like floating clouds! Considering this as well?”

“A guy who wants to be rich while seeking justice will end up eating cold, watery rice and never escape that fate?”

Jo Gul gaped.

“How does that get interpreted that way! It’s warning against wanting to be rich without considering intent—cherish contentment in poverty! Treasure inner serenity!”

Seok Han-Bin’s face twisted as if he’d heard something unbearable.

“No, living by that idea means eating cold rice and watery gruel! Forget justice—people who make good money eat exquisite feasts!”

“Um… ugh.”

Jo Gul’s hand trembled as he flipped the book.

“Then this! Confucius said, if wealth is worth pursuing, even the job of a charioteer who holds the whip I would take. If wealth isn’t worth pursuing, I will follow what I like!”

“…So to become rich you must spare no means or methods?”

“Hey!”

Jo Gul, face flushed, scolded fiercely.

“How does it become that! It’s not about recklessly wanting wealth—it’s about pursuing what I like! Pursuing what is true to myself!”

“That’s exactly it!”

“Why!”

Seok Han-Bin snapped back.

“I like being rich! So that’s what I like!”

“Uh…?”

“To do what I like, I might have to be a charioteer and save money—don’t spare methods when gathering money! That’s what it says!”

“….”

A sad silence followed. Jo Gul, whiter than ash, snapped the book shut with a clack.