I’m back. (2)
“Uh… Sahyeong. Are we really allowed to just sit here like this?”
A subtle unease. Perhaps ‘embarrassment’ would be the more accurate word for the feeling packed into this question.
“…”
But even Lee Danhoe had nothing in particular to say in reply.
With his lips tightly sealed – yet somehow unable to gather the blank look that had came over his eyes – Lee Danhoe turned his gaze aside.
The sight of an old, well-worn yet immaculately kept dining hall filled his view. Along with it, the modest yet neat meal laid out before them.
‘No, it isn’t modest.’
It wasn’t that the portions were excessive. Rather, the dishes set before them were so excellent that calling them ‘high-quality’ felt like an understatement.
– You’re guests, so please help yourselves to a good meal.
As if to prove that those casually spoken words were not merely for show.
In short, they were seated together in Hwasan’s dining hall, staring straight at the food arranged before their eyes. Not a single one could bring himself to reach for it.
How could they? Their feelings were hardly any good. No – saying they weren’t good didn’t even begin to cover it.
What the disciples of Diancang felt towards Hwasan was, to put it kindly, hostility. Put harshly, it might have bordered on loathing.
That was why, when they followed Hwasan here, Diancang’s disciples approached it with resolve rather than expectation. A resolution to see up close the enemy they would someday have to topple with their own hands.
To put it another way…
“So right now we’re being served a feast in the enemy’s main hall, the very foe we must overthrow?”
“……Not a main hall, a dining hall.”
“What’s the difference…?”
“…”
Faced with that question, he was at a loss for an answer.
“It doesn’t look as if there’s any particular malice, does it?”
“Probably. Surely they didn’t lace it with poison.”
“Then we can just eat…”
No sooner had someone spoken than dozens of angry eyes stabbed into him. The one who had spoken ducked his head deeply, a look of dismay on his face.
“Is that what you say with food set before you by an enemy?”
“I-I’m sorry, Sahyeong.”
“This is a ploy to make fools of us. Don’t get played by their tricks.”
The Saje’s voice was solemn and clear. Clear enough to steady anyone whose resolve was wavering. The only problem was that the one person here who felt no particular stir at that voice happened to be Lee Danhoe.
‘If that were what they were after, they’d be watching from the front row.’
Mocking Diancang’s disciples who were swayed by the sight of rich, greasy food.
But there wasn’t a single disciple of Hwasan in sight. Which meant that the only people inside this dining hall were the disciples of Diancang.
If so, where, one might ask, were those disciples of Hwasan, who could mock them with a look or a smirk alone?
Rattle.
Lee Danhoe quietly rose from his seat, went to the entrance of the dining hall, and flung the closed door wide open.
“…”
Then he stared blankly at the bizarre scene unfolding before his eyes.
“Hey, there! You didn’t wipe that properly!”
“What are you talking about? It’s so shiny a fly would slip!”
“Yeah, right. Monk Hye Yeon’s head is probably shinier!”
“Ah, Amitabha?”
Clouds of grey dust billowed from all directions.
“Ugh, dust!”
Hwasan’s disciples with brooms were sweeping the floors, and Hwasan’s disciples with rags were clinging to the pavilion, swiping away the dust that had piled up. From inside the large hall came a constant series of banging sounds, as if something chaotic was happening within.
Lee Danhoe clicked his tongue with a waery look.
“Do those guys never get tired?”
As if. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, everyone knew that all through this war Hwasan had fought harder than anyone. And once the war ended, without a proper chance to rest they had rushed all the way to the far-off Shaanxi.
No matter how trained they were as martial artists, it was only natural that their bodies should feel heavy and worn out.
Yet strangely enough, there wasn’t a hint of irritation on the faces of those cleaning the dusty halls. On the contrary, they were all in such high spirits that they even whistled as they were so engrossed in the cleaning.
“Hurry up, I said! Who told you to straighten your back?”
“Ugh. Seriously.”
“Stop nagging.”
“What a petty man. Look at him getting revenge.”
“Quiet! Move, move!”
…Of course, it didn’t seem that everyone was happily cleaning.
“Sasuk, Sasuk! The people from Diancang are eating, aren’t they?”
“Of course. They’ve come a long way. They must be hungry.”
“We’re hungry too.”
“Mm. I know. So?”
“…”
Lee Danhoe, who had been silently watching the lively disciples of Hwasan at work, turned his gaze aside.
Half the disciples’ eyes were fixed on him, and the other half on the Dongpo pork [동파육] (still sending up little puffs of white steam) right before their noses.
They were young disciples who, while held captive by Sapaeryeon, hadn’t been able to put proper food in their mouths. No wonder their eyes were glued to the meat before them.
Seeing them steal glances at him, a sigh slipped from Lee Danhoe.
“Let’s eat first.”
“Eh? Sahyeong! What do you mean by that?”
“What then? We’ve come all this way, and you’re saying we won’t touch the food they’re offering? What, do you plan to start farming instead?”
“That’s…”
One of the disciples, the same one who had scolded the others so sternly earlier, looked at him with a sulky expression. It was the look of someone who understood, yet couldn’t quite accept it. Not much different from how Lee Danhoe himself felt.
“Whatever it is – revenge or anything else – you need a full belly. Eat first.”
“…”
“Go on.”
“Then…”
Someone who had been hesitating quietly reached out and began picking up food. And that was the signal: the disciples, who had started working their chopsticks one by one while gauging the mood, moved their hands faster and faster, and soon they were putting the dishes away in the blink of an eye.
“D-Delicious.”
“But it seems a bit spicy, too.”
“Ack. They say Shaanxi cuisine uses a lot of vinegar. This is too sour.”
“If you’re not eating it, give it to me!”
“Who is not eating! Move aside!”
Lee Danhoe watched the scene in silence and thought to himself.
‘Return to Diancang, is it?’
The sight before his eyes proved just how futile a dream that had been. What good were land and halls? In Diancang, which Sapaeryeon had stripped bare, nothing would have been left.
Even if they marched back to Yunnan with heads held high, what awaited them would be halls piled with dust and storehouses where not even the dust remained. The reality for Diancang now was that even feeding and lodging these disciples would not be easy.
‘We look like beggars… No, beggars are probably better off than us.’
Considering that the Beggars Sect, despite appearances, is in fact a wealthy sect, Diancang as it stood now might be the poorest sect under heaven.
And Lee Danhoe was in a situation where he had to lead that poorest sect under heaven.
“Sahyeong.”
“Mm?”
“Please eat something. Why are you just sitting there like that?”
“…”
Lost in thought, Lee Danhoe raised his head. The disciples, who had been eating like hungry ghosts, had all paused their chopsticks and were looking at him.
A bitter smile slipped from Lee Danhoe’s lips.
“Right. Let’s eat. You have to eat to do anything at all.”
Lee Danhoe lifted his chopsticks and pushed the stir-fried vegetables into his mouth.
‘I don’t know.’
He did not want to feel grateful for being served good food. His heart had long ago grown too rigid to appreciate such gestures of goodwill.
But… He did feel grateful that they had given them space so they could eat without being self-conscious. Otherwise, his disciples would be eating good food now without being able to even feel the taste properly.
‘Hwasan….’
Just as Lee Danhoe was about to drift into his deepening thoughts…
“But then… about those Hwasan bastards.”
“Hm?”
“They’re… kind of different from what we expected, aren’t they?”
“Different how?”
“I mean, in many aspects.”
It was hard to pinpoint anything specific, but he seemed to mean that Hwasan didn’t feel like the kind of Central Plains’ sect they had imagined.
Without agreeing or disagreeing, Lee Danhoe looked out the door.
His gaze grew slightly heavier, as he watched Hwasan’s disciples chattering boisterously as they worked.
⠀⠀
“La-la.”
Swish. Swish.
As a hum slipped from Chung Myung’s lips, he wiped each ancestral tablet one by one with a clean cotton cloth.
“All right, this one’s good enough.”
Chung Myung beamed as he looked at the tablet, now spotless and freed from the layer of grey dust.
“No, wait. Should I polish it a bit more?”
It was clean enough as it was, but since it was none other than Chung Mun’s tablet, it deserved a little extra care. After all that had happened, hadn’t he come to realize time and time again how much this man had suffered in the past?
He hadn’t enjoyed any luxuries in life. He should at least enjoy them in death.
“La-la.”
A little hum escaped Chung Myung again, as he resumed cleaning the tablets.
How beautiful is the mountaintop, with no Evil Sects, no damned Just Sects’ bastards, and only wild beasts and Taoist monks.
“A person ought to live this quietly! Don’t you think so, Sahyeong?”
“Most people don’t, actually.”
“Huh?”
As a voice came from behind him, Chung Myung glanced around. And then…
“Woaaaaaah!”
Startled, Chung Myung screamed as he sprang to his feet.
“…What is this, a monster or something?”
What he saw looked less like a person and more like a stick. No – since it wobbled every time the mountain wind blew, ‘ a reed’ seemed more fitting than ‘a stick.’
But that reed(?) – where had he seen it before…?
“G-Guild Master?”
“…”
Though his appearance had changed a great deal, it was unmistakably Hwang Jong-ui, Master of the Eunha Merchant Guild.
“What in the world happened to you? Are you sick or something?”
At the corners of the Eunha Guild Master Hwang Jong-ui’s eyes – gaunt and shriveled as dried firewood – moisture has gathered.
Even if a person lacks conscience, there are limits. Who do you think is to blame for all this.
“…I hurried here as soon as I heard you had returned.”
“Ah, yes. I was going to drop by the Merchant Guild first, but this seemed like the proper order.”
“Proper order… right.”
Hwang Jong-ui nodded slowly. He was so emaciated that every movement didn’t just look weak. It almost sounded as if his bones were rattling.
“But… are you all right?”
“That sounds like something I should be asking instead.”
“No. That’s not it.”
“Sorry? What isn’t?”
“I mean, that tablet.”
“Huh?”
Chung Myung tilted his head and looked at the tablet in his hand. At the same time, his eyes flew wide.
“W-What is this?”
A crack has appeared right down the middle of the tablet he had polished to a glossy shine.
“Aaaagh! Nooooo! Sahyeong’s ancestral tableeeeet!”
Seeing Chung Mun’s tablet split with a crack, Chung Myung grabbed his own hair.
“Aagh! Sahyeong! I’m sorry! I have never broken anything of yours while you were alive! Or… did I? No, that’s not the point right now! Aaaaaaaaaaah!”
As Chung Myung clutched his head and screamed in despair, Hwang Jong-ui watched him for a long while before letting out a weary sigh.
‘It’s going to be noisy for a while.’
Truly, that man was a headache whether he was around – or not.
________
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Return of the Mount Hua 
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