Return of the Mount Hua

I wish it would last. (1)

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“Ugh…….”

At the sensation of a hundred bells ringing in his head all at once, Lee Danhoe reflexively clutched his head.

“Ugh…….”

It wasn’t just his head. He felt nauseous, as if something were dancing inside his stomach, and the sensation in his arms and legs wasn’t what he was used to.

“How much… just how much did I drink?”

His memory was hazy.

He was sure he had expressed his refusal to the disciples of Hwasan who offered him a drink…

What was it they said again? ‘As expected of a dignified gentleman of a prestigious Just Sect, I suppose you don’t even put alcohol to your lips?’

It hadn’t been exactly mockery or sarcasm. Perhaps, to them, it was as ordinary as saying, ‘That dog is white. That dog is black,’ wasn’t it?

The problem was that those words, of all things, happened to strike at Lee Danhoe’s pride.

In their land of Yunnan, a man who cannot drink is not regarded as a proper man. Even without dragging in those beastlike barbarians of the Beast Palace, proving one’s manliness by not refusing liquor was a time-honored tradition handed down from the past, wasn’t it?

So it couldn’t be helped. Since there were no elders to flare up with anger and step forward at those words, Lee Danhoe had to prove the mettle of the Diancang’s men.

That’s how it was. Right…

“Then why is everything so confusing…?”

It was when Lee Danhoe, clutching his incessantly ringing head, let out a groan.

“Are you awake, Sahyeong?”

“W-W… Water. Water, please….”

“Here it is. It’s honey water.”

Honey water?

A question flickered in his mind – where had they suddenly gotten that? – but the question took a blow from the onrushing headache and fled far off. Lee Danhoe reflexively reached out, seized the bowl his Saje held out, and gulped it down.

“Please drink slowly. Slowly. It’ll go down the wrong way. Honestly, why would you drink so much?”

“Ugh…….”

Lee Danhoe quickly put down the empty bowl, as if tossing it away. Not even as an empty courtesy could he say, ‘I think I can live now.’ It felt more like he’d just barely managed to stick his head out of the grave.

“Yesterday… what on earth happened?”

“Do you not remember?”

“No, I do remember, but…”

Lee Danhoe clutched his head again.

“Something is wrong with my memory. I feel like I sat facing some bald man I’d never seen and drank with him.”

“…”

“What’s more, that bald man was wearing black monk’s robes. There’s no such attire in the world, is there? So my memory must be off.”

“Uh…. Sahyeong.”

“Hm?”

“That is correct.”

“….Hm?”

“You did drink with a monk.”

“A monk?”

“Yes. About halfway through, he said, ‘Haha. So this is where one can most refreshingly savor good gokcha*,’ and sat right down. Then he drank as if it were water.”

“…”

Lee Danhoe stared blankly at his junior. When Saje nodded as if to show he wasn’t lying, a hazy memory floated up in Lee Danhoe’s mind.

– A martial artist swayed by something this mild? Really?

– Come now, drink boldly! Boldly! Beyond this lies liberation and enlightenment. Life is a sea of suffering. If the only way to overcome that pain were to grit your teeth and endure, how could there be compassion in this world? If you think about it, isn’t this brew also something the Buddha bestowed upon mortals?

– Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp! Hoho, splendid!

It did seem his Saje was right. The memories grew steadily clearer.

“A b-bald monk, then? Where in the world would you find such a monk…”

“…They said he was from Shaolin.”

“What?”

“They said it was Monk Hye Yeon of Shaolin.”

“Th-That… Hye Yeon? The one I’m thinking of?”

“Yes.”

“This is insane……”

You mean Hye Yeon, the Once-In-A-Century prodigy that Shaolin so cherished? Why would a man like that be looking like an apostate monk and gulping down the liquor here?

His Saje, seeing Lee Danhoe standing there with his mouth hanging open, swallowed the words, ‘In the end, you got so drunk you slept with your head on that monk’s lap.’ This was something he shouldn’t know. Best to keep his mouth shut.

“What kind of sect is this… Uuuuggghhh.”

Lee Danhoe let out another painful groan. Monk or whatever, his head was ringing as if he might die.

“The juniors…”

“Well, they’re all about the same.”

“What? Are you saying they drank too?”

“What liquor would they have? Hwasan’s lot might be a bit unrestrained, but not to that extent.”

“Then why?”

“They’re exhausted, that’s all. Exhausted. We marched here from Henan without so much as a break, didn’t we?”

“…”

“I’m dead on my feet myself. How do you think the young ones feel? They’re not even fully grown yet, and they held out past midnight – that’s impressive enough.”

Just as Lee Danhoe was about to nod in relief…

“Don’t worry. You’re the only one in Diancang who got drunk and passed out.”

“Ugggh……..”

Lee Danhoe rubbed his face harshly with both hands.

‘What a humiliation. Honestly.’

It was bad enough that he’d accepted liquor on what was practically an enemy territory, but to then drink himself senseless? And right in front of his Sajes, no less?

A cold sweat trickled down Lee Danhoe’s back.

“Damn it, what a disgrace…”

“Haaaap!”

“At this rate, with what face am I supposed to face our predecessors who died before their time.”

“Urachaa!”

“And here of all places – Hwasan, of all damn places – to make a spectacle like this…”

“Khyaaaaa!”

“Argh! Why is it so noisy! If they’re tired, they should just collapse and sleep! Make those brats quiet down already!”

Irritation surged up within Lee Danhoe, and he shot to his feet with an angry shout. But Saje, who would normally flinch as if facing death at his words, didn’t so much as bolt from the room. He merely shook his head with a sour look.

“S-Sahyeong… Those aren’t our kids’ voices.”

“Hm?”

“Just take a look yourself.”

He gestured towards the window on one side of the room. Tilting his head, Lee Danhoe approached the window, still dyed with the dim hue of night.

Clack.

And the moment he threw open the closed window, his eyes began to tremble faintly.

“Urachaa!”

“Haaaap!”

“Euhahaha!”

“Hey, why is everyone so noisy? Keep it down.”

“Ah, sorry. My body feels so stiff.”

What spread before his eyes was the training ground – the same vast arena where they’d all drunk themselves senseless the night before – now filled with numerous disciples of Hwasan.

Was the drinking bout not over yet? If that had been the case, it might actually have been better. He would have shuddered and called them bastards bound to drown in liquor, but he wouldn’t have felt like this.

But what lay before Lee Danhoe’s eyes now was every last one of those Hwasan’s lot who had drunk as if there were no end last night, out on the training ground, swinging their swords without a single one missing.

“Urachaaaaa! U-Ugh, I’m dying. My body’s a wreck.”

“Then lie down and sleep – what’d you even come out for?”

“That’s just it. I was definitely going to sleep in, but my eyes just opened on their own. Maybe it’s a habit?”

“Tsk, tsk. That’s an illness too.”

“Then why did you come out, Sasuk? You came out to train too, didn’t you.”

“Not me.”

“Then why…?”

“Everyone else came out, so it’s awkward to stay behind alone. I’d feel self-conscious.”

“Ah.”

Staring blankly at the scene beyond the window, Lee Danhoe squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

‘How shameful.”

He had said it himself. That the reason Diancang had come here was, sooner or later, to defeat Hwasan. That to do so, they would watch from up close, learn, and also analyze.

Enemy. Yes, an enemy. An enemy they must one day surely bring down with their own hands. And yet now they sat in this comfortable lodging, watching that very enemy train.

‘Our strength is lacking. Our numbers are fewer. And if even our effort falls short – how could we ever hope to catch up to them?’

But even saying they should work harder than those people did not come easily.

These were men who, after drinking themselves into a stupor, were already training again just a few hours later. Such a thing would be impossible unless that way of life had long since become part of their very being.

Lee Danhoe, too, is a disciple of the prestigious Diancang Sect. In terms of effort, he has worked hard enough to fall behind no one. And yet, the traces of discipline woven into their daily lives were enough to leave even him speechless.

“…So this is why Hwasan prospers as it does now.”

His Sajes’ faint murmur struck him like a blow.

Lee Danhoe lightly bit his lip.

“Then we should just follow.”

“…..Sahyeong?”

He steadied his voice.

“Though they are our enemy, it’s undeniable that the sect called Hwasan is the most perfect textbook model for us.”

“Yes. Certainly.”

Hwasan, too – after being expelled from Gupailbang and on the verge of having even its name erased – rose again to become what it is now, did it not? If we watch and follow that path, a road will surely open for Diancang as well.

“Fortunately, we are still in the position of being Hwasan’s guests.”

“Yes.”

“Miss nothing, not even the smallest thing. Watch and learn. And someday we must work more than they do – several times more. If we do not, scaling that mountain before our generation is over will be a far-off thing. I have no intention of passing this heavy burden on to the later generation.”

“……Understood, Sahyeong.”

His Saje’s voice softened slightly. He had answered, but he must probably think it was a hard thing to accomplish.

But it didn’t matter.

‘As long as I don’t give up…’

Flames kindled in Lee Danhoe’s eyes.

‘Vice Sect Leader. You’ll regret giving me this chance. I will steal everything you have.’

They would make thorough use of the favor bestowed upon them – the magnanimity of the victors. Even if their blood boiled with humiliation, they would endure it.

Lee Danhoe steeled his resolve.

But……

“Who are you calling guests?”

“……Yes?”

A grumpy expression spread across the man’s face as he stood before Lee Danhoe. No, before the gathered disciples of Diancang.

“So why are you lot ‘guests’?”

“…”

Because they were invited? No, that sounds pathetic.

“We’re not affiliated with this place, so…”

“What? Not affiliated? If you’re not affiliated, you’re all guests? Then is the delivery guy hauling food up from Hwaeum a guest too?”

“…”

It wasn’t that there was nothing to retort with.

But the reason those words never made it past his lips was the expression of the man standing before them.

‘Nothing will get through to that one.’

‘He doesn’t intend to listen in the first place!’

‘But isn’t that man Hwasan Geomhyeop?’

‘Really? I thought he was some neighborhood thug.’

“Um……”

As the juniors’ whispering grew little by little, Lee Danhoe quickly opened his mouth. It didn’t seem wise to offer that man anything to latch onto.

“I have no desire to claim ourselves as guests.”

“Ho? Really?”

“But may I ask, then, why are you saying this at all?”

“Ah, that’s what you were curious about?”

Chung Myung let out a faint chuckle.

“Why? It’s obvious. A guest is someone you have to feed well, house well, and send off well. Why do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure?”

“A guest in his right mind doesn’t come up this mountain empty-handed. At the very least, it means he brings something worth more than the food he eats and the bed he sleeps in. You get what I’m saying?”

Lee Danhoe’s empty hands suddenly felt awkward all on their own.

The other Diancang’s disciples, too, unconsciously hunched their shoulders a little. At the sight, Chung Myung clicked his tongue.

“Then what are you now? Not guests, but freeloaders, freeloaders! We feed you, house you, and you drain our money without giving a thing in return.”

Lee Danhoe was about to flare up, but Chung Myung kept talking without a pause.

“You lot, do you know the difference between a guest and a freeloader?”

“….Well, I’m not sure?”

“You don’t? That’s fine, you don’t have to.”

“Pardon?”

Chung Myung smiled brightly.

“Because you’re about to find out.”

And from that moment on, days Lee Danhoe had never once imagined began.

Next chapter >>>

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*maybe someone forgot: 곡차(穀茶) – a slang term used by monks. It is an euphemism for alcohol. The term literally means “tea made from grains,” but most traditional Korean liquors, such as makgeolli, are made from grains. The origin of the term comes from a Joseon-era monk named Jinmuk Daesa, who, feeling embarrassed while drinking alcohol, began calling it “tea” instead.

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