Return of the Mount Hua

Wow, he really has no shame at all. (5)

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The silence was so heavy it felt like even the sound of a needle dropping would echo through the room. Despite the number of people present, not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on Chung Myung and Beop Jong.

‘Good heavens…’

Baek Cheon unknowingly clenched his fists tightly.

He had expected this to some extent.

It was already a well-known fact that Chung Myung did not think favorably of Beop Jong, and the recent incident with the Evil Sects had only intensified that animosity to its peak. So, he had assumed Chung Myung wouldn’t simply let things slide, even if the opponent was Beop Jong.

But still…

‘Even so, he’s the Abbot of Shaolin.’

Shaolin, the Northern Star of Gangho.

Who in the world of Gangho did not revere that name? Baek Cheon himself, though from Jongnam and now part of Hwasan, had always considered Shaolin a sacred existence beyond reproach.

And yet, the very Abbot of that revered Shaolin was now speechless, unable to refute the venomous words Chung Myung had hurled at him.

Who could have imagined witnessing such a scene in their lifetime?

He knew he should step in – but the words wouldn’t come out.

All he could do was hold his breath, trying not to miss a single word of their conversation.

“…This humble monk…”

After a long silence, Beop Jong finally spoke.

“…merely failed to consider that possibility. Had I thought of it beforehand, I would have surely gone to the Yangtze. This was simply…”

“Ah.”

Chung Myung cut off Beop Jong’s words with a short scoff.

“You would have gone to the Yangtze?”

“Well, that is…”

“You would have run to the Yangtze, stopped Namgung Clan from fighting Sapaeryon, handed Maehwado back to Surochae, and endured once more the humiliation of Shaolin submitting to them?”

“…”

A clear sneer curled on Chung Myung’s lips.

“You?”

Beop Jong closed his mouth again, despite the effort it had taken to open it in the first place.

He tried to speak, but it was as if someone had forcibly shut his mouth.

Instinctively, he was about to answer that of course he would have – but he had felt it, too.

That he never would have.

Even he couldn’t believe such a thing – how could Hwasan Geomhyeop be expected to believe it? Especially when it felt like the man understood Beop Jong’s heart better than he did himself?

In the end, a hollow laugh escaped Beop Jong’s lips. This wasn’t a situation where persuasion could ever work.

“It seems the Abbot has spent so much time studying the truths of Buddhism that he no longer understands the truths of the world. If that’s the case, let me explain it for you.”

Chung Myung spoke with the most amount of sarcasm he could muster.

“You clean up your own messes.”

“…”

“You don’t come crying and begging other people to do it for you.”

At that moment, it wasn’t Beop Jong who failed to contain his rising anger – but Beop Gye.

He could no longer bear watching that young Taoist speak as if teaching a child, directing his words towards the Abbot of Shaolin.

“Don’t you think you’ve gone too far?!”

When Beop Gye rebuked, Chung Myung very slowly turned his head towards him. Then, looking him squarely in the eye, he said,

“Too far?”

A stifled groan escaped Beop Gye’s lips. But he quickly composed himself and responded in a calm, measured tone.

“It’s true that Shaolin made a mistake. That much we admit. And yes, we were wrong. But the Abbot is now doing everything he can to set things right, isn’t he? It’s easy to throw around accusations, but correcting a wrongdoing is a far more difficult task. So why be so ruthless?”

Chung Myung stared at Beop Gye in silence, then let out a quiet exclamation.

“Ah. I was wondering who you were. We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“…”

“We didn’t even get to say goodbye at the Yangtze, did we? Have you been well since then?”

“A-hem.”

Beop Gye’s face flushed red in an instant. The mention of the Yangtze was like an original sin he would never be free of.

“‘Trying to set things right,’ you say. Right… well, sure, everything you’ve said is correct. But… then what exactly have you all been doing these past three years, that only now you’re scrambling to fix it? If you’d had the will, you’d have sorted it all long ago, wouldn’t you?”

“You…!”

“Hmm, how strange.”

Chung Myung shook his head, as if he truly couldn’t understand.

“Becoming a monk doesn’t mean you’re no longer human. So how can you be so shameless?”

“What did you just…?”

“Ah, I suppose you don’t get it when I speak politely. Then let me be clear. I’m telling you to shut your mouth, Venerable Monk.”

Beop Gye stared at Chung Myung in stunned silence.

He had always known Hwasan Geomhyeop was the type to throw courtesy to the wind. But who could have imagined he would go this far? They say that when something is too absurd, words fail you, and at that moment that was exactly how Beop Gye felt.

“It’s true that someone trying to fix a mistake is better than someone who only criticizes. That’s a fair statement. But the fact that you said it yourself is just… amazing.”

“…”

“And what was that again? Trying to fix it?”

Beop Jong looked at Chung Myung, his face pale. He was afraid of what might come out of that mouth next.

“Your idea of fixing it is coming here and begging us to fight alongside you?”

“…”

“So that’s what Shaolin calls cleaning up a mess now?”

Beop Gye lowered his head.

Harsh though they were, there wasn’t a single falsehood in Chung Myung’s words. Especially for Beop Gye, who had been one of the central figures in the Yangtze River Disaster and bore responsibility for everything that followed – he couldn’t voice a single word in protest.

Because even he had some shred of shame left.

“Step back.”

“…Abbot.”

“That’s enough.”

Beop Jong quietly looked at Chung Myung.

Seeing the deep-rooted distrust in Chung Myung’s eyes towards Shaolin, Beop Jong let out a heavy sigh.

‘How did it ever come to this?’

It was undeniable that, of late, the sect that has recently shown the most righteous conduct in the world was Hwasan.

And for Hwasan Geomhyeop – essentially the heart of that sect – to show such profound mistrust towards Shaolin… wasn’t that a reflection of Shaolin’s current standing in the world?

But even so, he couldn’t just step back now.

“Shaolin…”

Uncharacteristically hesitant, Beop Jong muttered a soft grunt before continuing.

“…is not perfect. Nor am I.”

“…”

“Those who are imperfect inevitably commit wrongs. I can accept the criticism we deserve for the mistakes we’ve made. But… I cannot bear to see innocent people suffer because of what I and Shaolin have done.”

Chung Myung glared at Beop Jong with a cold gaze. Even so, Beop Jong stood firm and continued.

“Whatever the condition may be – I’ll accept it. Just help us this once. Without Cheonumaeng, the Yangtze will truly be left to perish.”

Once again, Beop Jong bowed his head.

A moment ago, he had bowed to Hyun Jong. But now, it was to Chung Myung. That was a small but significant difference.

Everyone watching quietly bit their lips.

Chung Myung’s words had been right. But right now, Beop Jong was truly laying everything down and asking for their help. Had he merely explained the situation and appealed to reason, no one would have been swayed by his words.

But now, Beop Jong offered no logic, no argument – only a bow and a heartfelt plea. That sincerity moved not only Hyun Jong, but others in the room as well, who began to look at Beop Jong with new eyes.

Maybe…

Maybe the situation really was that dire, beyond salvation without their help. Otherwise, would the Abbot of Shaolin really stoop so low, bowing and begging before another sect?

Could it really be just to preserve Shaolin’s strength that he, the Abbot, was willing to kneel and bow his head to a youth from another sect?

Surely not.

And yet.

There was one person whose eyes didn’t change in the slightest. Not even a tremble.

“The Abbot hasn’t changed at all.”

The simmering anger in Chung Myung’s voice had vanished. Now his words were calm, even emotionless. But that lack of emotion somehow made his voice far more chilling than all his previous fury.

“You say you were wrong, you say you regret it. But since this is all for the sake of the people and the suffering commoners, let’s set aside the past and work together.”

Beop Jong flinched. Chung Myung was staring at him with piercing eyes.

“You pretend to reflect, bow your head just enough, and count on all the gullible fools to suddenly overflow with a sense of unity and offer themselves up as your shields, is that it?”

“A-Abbot…”

“Now I know for sure.”

“…”

“The Abbot isn’t a hypocrite. That’s exactly why I can’t stand him.”

Beop Jong frowned.

He hates him not because he’s a hypocrite, but because he isn’t?

What kind of reasoning was that? Most people despise others because they’re hypocrites – wasn’t that the usual way of things?

As if he understood the confusion perfectly, Chung Myung clarified.

“A hypocrite is at least someone who knows what they’re doing. It means they’re aware, at the very least, that they’re committing evil. But you…”

His gaze pierced Beop Jong like a blade of frost.

“You’re not that kind of person.”

“…”

“You’re someone who has not a shred of doubt that you’re doing the right thing. Someone who truly believes, without question, that you’re righteous.”

Chung Myung clenched his jaw, as if the very words made him sick.

Yes – someone like Heo Do Jinin, he was a hypocrite. At least he knew he was capable of doing evil for the sake of his sect’s interests. He had that level of self-awareness.

But Beop Jong was different.

Beop Jong never questioned himself. No – perhaps he suffered now, but in the end, he had no doubt that he would reach a conclusion that proved his righteousness.

Right at this moment, Beop Jong surely believed with all his heart that convincing Hwasan to join the war at the Yangtze was the way to save the world.

Because he believed he was right, he didn’t hesitate.

Because he believed completely in his righteousness, he could even bow his head to a green young boy.

To him, bowing to Chung Myung was nothing more than a sacred step on the path towards a noble conclusion, a small sacrifice in pursuit of a greater good.

“I… doubted.”

Even in the heart of that hellscape at the Hundred Thousand Mountains, where death loomed with every breath, Chung Myung had never stopped doubting himself. He questioned, again and again, whether this was truly the right way – whether the choices he’d made had truly been just.

Not only him. Chung Mun as well. No – everyone there must have doubted, and doubted again.

But the ones who stood behind them, watching their deaths from a distance, never harbored any doubts. They spat out words like sacred sacrifice, convinced that sending so many into that hell had been the right thing.

Just like Beop Jong now.

People like that, though they may pity the dead, still drive countless others to their graves. They may shed tears – but they never regret. Because they never once question that they are doing what is right.

“Once was enough.”

The force flowing from Chung Myung slowly bore down on Beop Jong.

“All that nonsense about saving the world, protecting the people – just one time dying for those filthy lies is already too much. Far too much.”

That pressure wasn’t born of martial prowess alone. If it were merely a matter of force, Beop Jong wouldn’t have found it so crushing.

Before that overwhelming, unknown weight, Beop Jong couldn’t even bring himself to breathe.

“So long as I draw breath, don’t even think of using Hwasan with that silver tongue of yours.”

Chung Myung’s quiet words sounded like a growl of a wounded beast, ready to strike.

“Get out of here. Right now. Or I’ll snap that self-important neck of yours.”

The color drained from Beop Jong’s face.

Next chapter >>>

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Shivers ran down my spine fr… ‘one time dying for those filthy lies is already too much’ – WOW. i love u chung myung.

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