Return of the Mount Hua

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“Awake?”

Hearing a voice that seemed to echo faintly, Tang Bo clutched his head tightly. It felt as though a great bell were ringing inside his skull. His stomach churned, and nausea surged up in him. It felt as though he had been poisoned by some dreadful toxin.

By reflex, he reached out for water. Only after grabbing the bottle set by his bedside and gulping it down for a long while did he feel a little more alive. When he let his head fall weakly back against the wall, that same voice spoke again.

“Well done indeed.”

“…Who brought me here?”

“The inn sent word. They said morning had come and you were still pouring liquor down your throat. Said you looked ready to empty every last drop of liquor in the place. Is that true?”

“…”

“Fine. Let us say nothing of the fact that an elder of the Tang Clan caused a scene in an inn. But there should still be men of the Paeng Family in Chengdu, and yet you drank yourself senseless like this. What in the world were you thinking? If those bastards had laid eyes on you, do you think you would still be alive?”

Listening to the scolding, Tang Bo let out a snort.

“Why, do you think those bastards would resort to a sneak attack?”

The small laugh soon grew into a loud one. The more Tang Bo’s shoulders shook, the harder Tang Cheolak’s face became. Tang Bo sneered openly.

“You’ve lived your whole life hiding in the shadows, so I suppose you think everyone else is the same?”

“I’ve told you repeatedly – watch your tongue.”

“Why? Are you going to poison this water now?”

Their gazes collided in midair. Once again, it was Tang Cheolak who broke eye contact first, letting out a sigh heavy enough to make the ground sink.

‘Damn it.’

If only he were not a master! If only that bastard were not an irreplaceable master of the Tang Clan, he would already have had him quietly confined or thrown into the prison cells. A husk of a man who undermined the authority of the clan head at every turn and did nothing but wander outside the clan.

He looked down on the direct line and took the side branches under his wing simply because they made hidden weapons, then one day vanished without a word, only to reappear abruptly years later. In the Tang Clan, which ran on strict law, that man was, quite literally, like a venomous insect. Everyone found him dreadful, yet because he was of the Tang Clan, they could not cast him away.

Especially from Tang Cheolak’s position, regret weighed on him no less than resentment and anger. If only that bastard had been even a little more decent, he could have used him to raise the clan’s prestige twice as high. He spoke as if letting out a sigh.

“You kept talking about it, so I made the suggestion to the Council of Elders.”

“…About what?”

“Nothing excessive. I suggested choosing about ten of the clan’s children and placing them under your care. At the very least, we cannot let your hidden weapon arts to be lost.”

For a fleeting moment, a spark flashed through Tang Bo’s otherwise lifeless eyes.

A mere ten. But the meaning of that could not be dismissed as merely ten. If they were not disciples he had personally gathered, but children assigned to him by the order of the clan, then rather than being scorned by the other clan members, they would instead be looked upon with a certain pity.

And if, in such an environment, he managed to raise those ten properly, it might become the chance to change this suffocatingly closed-off clan. What one man could not do alone, ten might accomplish.

“And?”

“Denied.”

A heavy silence settled. Without realizing it, Tang Bo bit down on his lip.

Ten. Out of the countless useless brats in the clan, just ten – and yet the Council would not even grant him that.

Did a clan this rotten have any reason to continue existing? Would it not be better for it simply to collapse as it was?

“They said a single loach muddies the water, and that ten would be more than enough to bring ruin upon the clan.”

“Ha… Hahaha!”

A hollow laugh slipped out. A loach. In this clan, that was all he was. No matter that he had become the greatest expert of the Tang Clan, no matter that he had defeated Bugsan Maengho in a single strike, he was still nothing more than one who muddied the clan’s waters.

These people had no desire to become dragons. Rather, whenever someone tried to become one, they trampled him thoroughly so that he would live on as a mere loach. They had lived that way their entire lives. Because if they lived like that, they could at least reign as kings within their small stream.

Tang Bo’s hand moved reflexively in search of liquor. But with the room having been thoroughly cleared out in the meantime, there was no way any alcohol would still be left.

“I thought they might at least give you ten.”

“…I suppose you did.”

For Tang Cheolak, whose pride pierced the heavens, to go before the Council of Elders and bow his head must have taken resolve of his own. Yet even that had been rejected outright. The clan was even more rotten than they had thought. In the end, Tang Bo exploded in frustration.

“What is wrong with it? What more am I supposed to do? I am the master of flying daggers, damn it! I’m not spouting nonsense just to prove that I alone am superior!”

Tang Bo, who usually maintained a cynical demeanor, shouted harshly, and Tang Cheolak simply stared at him in silence. Then he spoke.

“One man may gamble, but a clan cannot.”

“A gamble? You called it a gamble?”

“The mainstream approach of this clan is poison. Flying daggers were enough as a supporting art. To change that trend would, in the end, mean changing the clan itself. To stake everything on you alone, on an uncertain gamble – the four characters of the Sichuan Tang Clan are far too heavy for that.”

Of course they were. A hollow laugh slipped from Tang Bo’s lips. He had heard those words so often they made him sick. No, by now they were nailed into his ears. And yet had they ever sounded this disgusting, this vile, as they did now? Even knowing it was not solely Tang Cheolak’s fault, he found it hard to endure.

Then, suddenly, Tang Cheolak said in a cold voice.

“And… you are certainly at fault here as well.”

“……What did you just say?”

“If you truly wanted this, you should have proven it. That your path of flying daggers is, without a doubt, the right one.”

“What more, exactly, do you expect me to prove?”

“Are your daggers the best under heaven?”

For a moment, Tang Bo was left speechless.

“The best of the Tang Clan? What does that prove? There has always been ‘the best’ in the Tang Clan in every era. The fact that you are the strongest within the clan is not a reason for the clan to change. Those called the best of the Tang Clan have always been ones who vied for the title of the best in Sichuan.”

As Tang Bo listened to every one of those words, his face twisted.

“Then what – are you telling me to go out and prove I’m the best under heaven? To wander Gangho and fight duels?”

“…”

“Do you think I stay like this because I do not want to prove it? How am I supposed to fight bastards who hide themselves inside their sects and never come out! Shall I go to Wudang and beg them? Ask them to let me fight the greatest sword of Wudang? Or should I camp out in front of the main gate of that damned Namgung Clan? Should I plead for just one match with Changcheon Geom-Wang [창천검왕(蒼天劍王) – Azure Sky Sword King], who does not even show his face at gatherings anymore?”

What kind of absurd, unreasonable nonsense was this? Just as Tang Bo was about to raise his voice again, Tang Cheolak lightly lifted his hand and said.

“That Azure Sky Sword King.”

“Yes! That Azure Sky Swo….”

“He lost, I hear.”

“…What? What did you just say?”

Startled for a moment, Tang Bo forgot what he had been about to say and stared with wide eyes.

“They say the Azure Sky Sword King has been defeated. And not only that – he could not even properly put up a fight before he was one-sidedly crushed.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

No matter how one looked at it, it was an outrageous claim. Who was the Azure Sky Sword King? The Grand Elder of the Namgung Clan, and together with Wudang’s Taiji Sword Sovereign [태극점제], one of the two contending for the title of Greatest Swordsman Under Heaven.

This was the age of swordsmen. If the greatest swordsman under heaven was effectively the greatest martial master under heaven, then the defeat of the Azure Sky Sword King meant little different from saying that the strongest man in the world had been decided.

“Is it true?”

“For now, it is only a secret, a quiet rumor. And it will likely remain nothing more than a rumor forever.”

At first glance it sounded like he was dismissing it as mere hearsay, but in truth it meant the rumor was real. If it were not true, Namgung Clan would already be foaming at the mouth, loudly denying it.

“…Who was it? The Taiji Sword Sovereign?”

“No.”

“Then…”

“Chung Myung.”

Tang Bo’s body shuddered briefly.

“Chung Myung? That… from Hwasan?”

Bewilderment spread across Tang Bo’s face.

“You are saying Chung Myung, Iljeol Maehwa [일절매화(一節梅花) – First Form of Plum Blossoms], was that great of a master?”

He had, of course, heard the rumors many times. Iljeol Maehwa Chung Myung. Hwasan’s greatest swordsman, and perhaps one worthy of being called the foremost sword in all Shaanxi.

But he was even more famous for his eccentric temperament than for his skill. He had heard that within Shaanxi, Chung Myung was known less by the refined title of Iljeol Maehwa than by the nickname the Vagabond of Xian [서안낭객(西岸浪客) – seoannang-gaeg]. A vagabond was, usually, a title given to some unruly wanderer with no fixed abode. For such a nickname to be attached to an elder of the illustrious Hwasan Sect – this alone made it plain as day what sort of man he was.

And yet that Chung Myung, had defeated none other than the Azure Sky Sword King?

“I know what you are thinking. But it seems to be true. His martial prowess must be greater than what is publicly known. In the Shaanxi region, they say he is no longer called Iljeol Maehwa Chung Myung, but sometimes Maehwa Geomjon.”

“Geomjon? How arrogant.”

“No, not arrogant. Not if the rumor is true. He may well be at the level where all would call him the greatest under heaven – no… If he defeated the Azure Sky Sword King, then there can be no doubt that he is the greatest martial master of this era.”

“……Who else knows?”

“It seems Gupailbang does not know yet. The Great Families appear to have learned of it first.”

Tang Bo nodded. Compared to Gupailbang, the Five Great Families interacted with one another far more actively. Most likely, word had slipped out in the course of exchanges among their subordinates. There was no such thing as an eternal secret in this world.

“The Namgung Clan will desperately try to keep the truth buried, so it is unlikely to become known to the public. And from the looks of it, Hwasan does not seem eager to spread it either.”

“Why not?”

From Namgung’s perspective, it was the deepest humiliation imaginable, but from Hwasan’s standpoint, it was an unprecedented triumph. Was there any reason to hide it?

“Well now. Since it concerns Daehyeongeom [대현검(大賢劍) – Great Virtuous Sword] Chung Mun, there must surely be a reason.”

The name Chung Mun, the Great Virtuous Sword, was enough to make others accept everything without question. People said it would not be an exaggeration to claim that more than eighty percent of the credit for raising Hwasan into the great sect it now was belonged to him. The Great Virtuous Sword was that extraordinary of a Sect Leader.

“And in truth, the reason is not what matters. What matters is that we know of it – and naturally, so does the Council of Elders.”

At the mention of the Council of Elders, Tang Bo’s gaze turned cold again. Only now did he clearly understand why Tang Cheolak had brought this up.

The Azure Sky Sword King and the Taiji Sword Sovereign were figures hidden deep within the walls of their clan and sect. To cross blades with them was something possible only in dreams. Issuing a challenge itself would be an act of insolence, and each sect guarded against any such possibility so thoroughly that, even if the individuals themselves were willing, a match could not happen. But…

“As you know, Iljeol Maehwa Chung Myung is…”

“Is a loafer who comes out to Xian every so often to drink himself senseless.”

“Indeed. Much like someone I know.”

“We cannot cross blades with the others, but…”

“But with him, we can.”

“And what are the chances that Hwasan will try to hide him away now?”

“None. From what I have heard, Hwasan cannot control him. And in truth, if they had been able to control him in the first place, then at the very least a Taoist would not have ended up with such a notorious reputation attached to his name.”

Tang Bo found himself agreeing, and let out a quiet laugh. A Taoist known for his infamy – what kind of absurd creature was that? He seemed more interesting than expected. Had he not been cornered by the state of his clan, he might have gone to seek him out at least once, if only for amusement.

‘But now it will be an ill-fated meeting.’

Tang Bo rose from his seat. The moment he noticed the emptiness inside his sleeve, he asked coldly.

“My daggers?”

“…You call yourself a martial artist.”

Tang Cheolak frowned and muttered a brief reproach, then added.

“I left them with the workshop. I told them to hone the edges as keenly as possible.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“The opponent is who he is. We have to do whatever can be done. I told them to put everything else aside and handle your matter first, so by now the work should already be finished.”

Tang Bo nodded. He still thought it was unnecessary, but if his opponent’s skill truly was enough to defeat the Azure Sky Sword King, then even this level of preparation was not excessive.

“Can you do it?”

“It is not a matter of whether I can. I have to.”

A sharp glint flashed through Tang Bo’s dark eyes. If there was any way to save a clan that was rotting and slowly sinking, then this was it. No – even if it wouldn’t change the clan entirely, at the very least, it might provide a thread to grasp onto.

To think that the hope he sought could only be gained by proving himself the best under heaven. It was truly an absurd condition, yet Tang Bo’s eyes were no longer clouded as they had been before. Now that a clear path lay before him, what lay ahead was his to carry.

“If you defeat him, then even the Council of Elders will have no grounds left to refuse you. Naturally, you will be able to obtain at least part of what you desire.”

“I suppose so.”

After all, no one would wish to bear the disgrace and ridicule of being a clan that failed to pass down the flying dagger arts of the best under heaven.

“I will be off.”

“Right away?”

“There’s nothing to be gained by dragging it out. I will go before that bastard hides himself away. If I wait for days, or even months, he is bound to show himself at least once. And that will be the moment I prove that I am the best under heaven.”

Tang Cheolak nodded heavily. This was Tang Bo, the man who had crushed Paeng Manwi without even moving from where he stood. No matter how strong Iljeol Maehwa Chung Myung might be, he could not possibly defeat him.

“Go, then.”

Without another word, Tang Bo left the room and headed for the workshop. His eyes shone with a chilling light.

‘Chung Myung……’

A faint smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

‘I suppose I should thank you.’

❀ ❀ ❀

The empty cup landed on the table with a sharp sound. The veins and tendons on the back of the hand gripping it stood out starkly.

“What kind of godforsaken situation is this?”

Even when he reclaimed his beloved weapons, freshly honed, from the workshop, Tang Bo’s heart had been full of resolve. No – right up until the moment he had raced like the wind from Chengdu in Sichuan all the way here to Xian, his spirits had been soaring. The thrill of finally having seized his chance had set his heart pounding.

And on top of that, there was the anticipation of being able to prove his martial art, and the joy of crossing skill with someone who was certain to be the finest under heaven. Tang Bo too was a martial artist, so there was no way this duel would not fill him with excitement and expectation. But…

“Locked up?!”

One day, two days, and then a whole month.

Tang Bo stayed and waited the entire time without leaving, but the man they called the Iljeol Maehwa, or the Vagabond of Xian, never showed so much as the tip of his nose. He appeared only now and then in the stories people whispered among themselves. In the meantime, Tang Bo picked up the utterly useless bit of information that, around here, the man wasn’t even called the Vagabond of Xian but something closer to ‘Hwasan’s Lost Cause,’ – but that hardly mattered [화산망종(華山亡種) – hwasan-mangjong – or hwasan’s perishing lineage]. 

In Xian, Hwasan’s disciples were common enough that one or two would show up whenever one looked. But among them, Iljeol Maehwa Chung Myung was nowhere to be seen. No matter how long he strained his eyes waiting, not only did he not appear, not even anyone resembling him showed up. At last, unable to bear it any longer, he had tailed Hwasan’s bastards and gathered what information he could about the situation, and…

“You’re telling me he’s locked up? How does that make any sense!”

Yes, fine, someone could be locked up. If he committed some wrongdoing, he could be thrown into the Repentance Chamber. There was nothing strange about that.

“But the reason is that he beat the Azure Sky Sword King?”

Even a dog would hear that and call it nonsense. A master of the sect defeats one counted among the greatest swordsmen under heaven, and instead of rewarding him, they punish him? Had Hwasan’s Sect Leader gone mad?

“Ugh…….”

Tang Bo raked his fingers through his hair. There was no way Great Virtuous Sword Chung Mun had gone mad, so there must be some complicated reason beyond his understanding – but as an outsider, he had no way of uncovering it. All he could do was suffer in frustration.

What was more, from what he had heard, even Hwasan’s own disciples did not seem to know when Chung Myung would be released. So Tang Bo had no choice but to helplessly wait, soothing his smoldering impatience with liquor.

“I knew things were going too smoothly.”

Muttering to himself, he dropped his head heavily onto the table.

Everything had become unbearable. The endless waiting, the bland food of Shaanxi. He had been away from Sichuan for only a month, yet he missed its fiery dishes so much he felt he might fall ill from it. But he could not even leave this place, in case Iljeol Maehwa happened to come through Xian while he was gone.

Having stayed put there for over a month without properly speaking to anyone, he felt as though he were slowly going mad. Even his habit of talking to himself had grown alarmingly worse. Tang Bo, who had been sitting there with his head buried as if dead, suddenly jerked it up.

“No, but does this really make any sense?”

Locked up? Hwasan’s greatest expert? The greatest master of the age, no less, the man who had defeated the Azure Sky Sword King?

No matter how lofty the authority of a sect leader might be, Gangho was still the world of martial artists. It was only natural that the strong held more power. No matter how much authority a sect leader held, he could not push around the strongest expert in his sect however he pleased. Was the Tang Clan itself not proof enough? Even the Tang Clan, which could rival Shaolin for the strictness of its laws, had been unable to do anything with Tang Bo.

“And he just obediently let himself be locked up?”

How could something like that possibly happen? Was it actually Chung Mun, who was the strongest man under heaven? Was that why he could beat down Chung Myung and toss him into Repentance Chamber without even letting him squeak? As if that made any sense!

‘What kind of sect is Hwasan, exactly?’

What sort of sect was it, for such absurd things to happen in plain sight? And how were those disciples of Hwasan walking around Xian so calmly, without a care in the world, after something so ridiculous had taken place?

“…I have no idea.”

Tang Bo slumped down again. The more he thought about it, the more it only added to his misery. Better to forget thinking altogether and simply surrender himself to the passing of time…

“Ugh! I thought I screwed up big time! Damn, what a mess!”

At that moment, a loud voice rang out. It was loud and unbearably frivolous. It sounded like some degenerate had just barged in.

‘You’ve got a death wish.’

He was already in a foul mood – if that bastard so much as caused a slightest disturbance, he’d snap his neck on the spot. Tang Bo ground his teeth at the thought.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the man who had come in did not actually cause any trouble.

“Server! Bring me kung pao chicken and red-braised pork [홍소육]! And a bowl of wontons too! Ah, and hwaju [화주(花酒) – flower wine – osmanthus wine tastes…]! Ten bottles of hwaju! No, twenty! Right now!”

“Yes, Sir! I’ll have it prepared at once!”

The booming voice, together with the sound of the server scurrying about, only agitated Tang Bo further.

“H-Here, the hwaju first!”

“That’s right, you know what you’re doing! Hand it over!”

“Yes, Sir. The food will be ready in just a mo…”

“Kraaaaaaah! Ugh! This is the taste! This is it!”

The corner of Tang Bo’s eye twitched.

‘Loud as hell.’

Under normal circumstances, he might have thought, ‘What a boisterous fellow,’ and let it pass, but right now his state of mind was in such chaos that nothing looked agreeable to him. Still, he could not afford to cause trouble before meeting Iljeol Maehwa. If his identity were exposed for no reason, he might hear the rumors and go into hiding.

Forcing down his anger, Tang Bo sank deep into thought. Should he just go to Hwasan and ask for a duel? No. No, that would be absurd. There was no way they would agree to such a match.

“Chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp!!!”

Then should he first stop by the Beggars Sect and gather informati…

“Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp!!! Kheeeeuuuuuuuh! I’ve absolutely annihilated today’s wontons! Bring me another bowl!”

“Yes, Sir!”

A vein bulged on Tang Bo’s forehead. Did that bastard realize it? That while he was busy ‘annihilating’ his wontons, he himself was on the verge of being annihilated? Even in the middle of all this, the sound of him gulping down liquor continued refreshingly – gulgulgulgul.

“Kraaaah! Ten more bottles of hwaju! No, forget it, that’s a hassle. Just bring me everything that’s left!”

“S-Sir. The money…”

“Oh, what, you think I don’t have the money?”

“…..Yes.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”

Even as he spoke, the sound of that reckless bastard chugging liquor never ceased. It sounded as though he were pouring entire bottles straight down his throat, and he drank with such vigor that Tang Bo, who had been lying there listlessly, found his mouth watering.

“Ahh! Now I finally feel a bit more alive. Damn it, why is it always me? Hell. What was so wrong about beating up some old man?”

Still sprawled over the table, Tang Bo thought to himself, ‘Well, you really shouldn’t beat up old men. You deserved to get scolded for that one.’

“And instead of praising me, they – ah, for heaven’s sake.”

Tsk, tsk. That one really was hopeless.

“H-Here, I’ve brought more liquor.”

“And another plate of red-braised pork.”

“S-Sir, do you really have the mon…”

“I told you, I do. And besides, you can just put it on my tab!”

“The last time we put it on your tab, an elder came and paid it off for you…”

“He’ll pay it off this time too, so stop worrying and just bring it!”

“……Yes, Sir.”

A faint grin tugged at the corner of Tang Bo’s mouth. There was no delinquent quite like that bastard. If that bastard had pulled a stunt like this in Sichuan instead of Xian, by now he would have already…

‘Huh? Wait a second.’

A delinquent? In an inn like this, crawling with disciples of Jongnam, and with even people from Hwasan showing up from time to time, a man openly making such a scene?

Tang Bo jerked upright and snapped his gaze towards the source of the commotion. And then he saw it: Hwasan’s eye-catching white martial robe, and a long ponytail that almost reached the man’s waist.

Tang Bo’s eyes widened.

“Kraaaaaaah! This is it! This is the stuff! How’s anyone supposed to live without this!”

His mouth slowly fell open. Right. That was him. That had to be him. With his heart trembling slightly, Tang Bo rose and walked towards the bizarre Taoist bastard who was demolishing the food.

“Excuse me……”

“Hm?”

The Taoist turned sharply, a liquor bottle still stuck in his mouth. His gaze was so outlandish that even Tang Bo, of all people, nearly found himself instinctively turning around with, ‘Ah, my mistake. I’ll be going now.’

“What?!”

“Could it be that you are…. Iljeol Maehwa…. no, Maehwa Geomjon, Chung Myung Dojang?”

“Huh?”

The Taoist tilted his head and looked Tang Bo up and down, his gaze clearly saying, ‘Who the hell is this bastard?’

“No idea about this ‘Maehwa Geomjon’ nonsense, but I am Chung Myung. Why?”

“Ah, is that so?”

A faint smile spread at the corner of Tang Bo’s mouth.

It had been a long time. A very long time, but… at last, the moment had come!

“I am Tang Bo of the Sichuan Tang Clan. The world calls me Ilsu Talmyeong.”

“So?”

Tang Bo started to bring his hands together in a formal martial salute, then stopped. With this bastard, this way would work better than that sort of formality.

“I hear you’re pretty good.”

“…Huh?”

“Let’s have a match.”

Tang Bo jerked his chin towards the outside. The Taoist was silent for a moment, then popped the liquor bottle from his mouth and grinned crookedly.

________

Being locked up at his big age ㅠㅠ oh, Chung Myung, you never change. This SS is hilarious.

________

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