Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 904

Glug.

The liquor filled the cup.

Chung Myung, his face shadowed in the dim light of the room, silently poured the liquor. He glanced across the rough wooden table at Dangbo, who was meticulously cleaning a short dagger with a pure white cloth.

“Put the knife away. It’s ruining my appetite,” Chung Myung said.

“Goodness, how can you worry about your appetite in the middle of this war? Being able to eat is enough,” Dangbo replied.

Dangbo finished cleaning his dagger, wiping off every bit of oil. He raised his eyebrows slightly. Like someone from the Tang family, he took great care of his weapon.

“Does that make the blade sharper?” Chung Myung asked.

“Hey, if you don’t know, don’t say anything. Someone like you, Daoist, would just grab any sword and start fighting. But I need a weapon that feels perfect in my hand. This dagger is very special, you know?” Dangbo said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Special, my foot,” Chung Myung scoffed.

Regardless, Dangbo carefully maintained all twelve of his daggers. He wiped them clean, polished any scratched parts, and applied a fresh coat of oil before placing the pristine daggers in front of him.

Then, he picked up the liquor bottle and filled Chung Myung’s empty glass.

“Why is our Daoist brother in such a bad mood again?” Dangbo asked with a grin.

“…” Chung Myung remained silent.

“No, no. He’s always in a bad mood. Hmm, that’s right. It’s like a law of nature,” Dangbo chuckled.

“You little…?” Chung Myung started, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Now, now, a drink? A drink?” Dangbo grinned as he raised his glass. Chung Myung chuckled and raised his own in response. The two glasses clinked briefly in the air.

Chung Myung slowly emptied his glass, then looked at Dangbo across from him and asked, “Yesterday… how many gone?”

Dangbo looked away, fiddling with his dagger. “Lost count… maybe twenty, on their side?”

Chung Myung’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Not them. *Our* side. How many *died*?”

Dangbo sighed, his voice quieter. “Five. Five good men. Damn fools didn’t listen to orders…”

Dangbo’s face twisted in annoyance. It seemed the Tang family members he led had also suffered considerable losses.

War was like that. No matter how careful you were, no matter how hard you tried, some people were bound to die.

“Those sons of bitches are running wild these days. I almost lost my head,” Dangbo said, miming slitting his own throat with the edge of his hand.

“Crazy bastard,” Chung Myung chuckled.

It was a simple joke, but no one here made such jokes.

Here, in this war, people you ate with yesterday might be gone today. So, jokes about death felt wrong. They were too sad to be funny, but too common to be serious.

“I almost really died, I tell you. I ran into a bishop,” Dangbo said, his voice still tinged with annoyance.

“Hmm.” Chung Myung’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of a bishop.

Although several bishops had already lost their heads to his sword, the title of bishop was still a threat to Chung Myung.

“It wasn’t a full-on fight, so I managed to get away with it…” Dangbo pressed his chin.

“If it had been a proper fight, my head would have been in danger. Damn it, why was I born into the Tang family?”

“You’re just weak, why blame the Tang family?” Chung Myung retorted.

“Ah, Daoist brother, you don’t understand because you lived in the mountains. It’s not that I’m weak. Throwing knives are good, but they can only do so much. There’s a limit, you see?” Dangbo explained, a touch of frustration in his voice.

“You’re just weak.” Chung Myung repeated, unfazed.

“No, what I mean is…” Dangbo started to protest.

“You’re weak.” Chung Myung said again, cutting him off.

“…” Dangbo smiled brightly, his face flushed.

“Be careful on your way home. A stray throwing knife might end up in your back,” Dangbo said, a hint of threat in his voice.

“Then it wouldn’t be an accident. It would be a knife thrown by a fool on purpose,” Chung Myung replied calmly.

“Aish, damn it.” Dangbo grumbled, fiddling with the Soul-Reaping Blade in front of him. He looked like he was contemplating whether he could slam it into Chung Myung’s forehead right then and there.

“Anyway, so… I’m thinking of developing some useful new technique,” Dangbo said, changing the subject.

“Technique?” Chung Myung asked.

“Yeah. A technique to deal with those damn bishop bastards, or those dog-like Heavenly Demon bastards. Those guys who wear black clothes, black clothes. Oh, and it would be even better if they carry swords.”

Chung Myung silently looked down at his own clothes.

Hmm, very black. Very black indeed.

Chung Myung chuckled.

“Don’t do useless things, just do what you’re good at. When are you going to use a technique you create now in actual combat? Maybe you can try it out in the afterlife,” Chung Myung advised.

“Well, I’m not going to use it right away,” Dangbo said with a smirk.

“Huh?” Chung Myung raised an eyebrow.

“If I just get a basic idea now, I can work on it slowly after the war,” Dangbo explained.

“You’re confident you’ll still be alive then?” Chung Myung asked skeptically.

“Ah, I’m Dangbo. If the Grim Reapers come to get me, I’ll just stick a Soul-Reaping Blade in their foreheads,” Dangbo said confidently.

“Crazy bastard,” Chung Myung muttered.

Dangbo chuckled.

Dangbo, with a slightly strange look on his face, stared at the empty glass in his hand before grabbing the liquor bottle and filling his glass.

“Even if I can’t finish it…” Dangbo’s voice was subdued.

Chung Myung raised his head to look at Dangbo.

Dangbo, turning the glass slowly in his hand, poured the liquor into his mouth in one gulp.

“Someone will carry it on. Someone who is from the Tang family and learns to use the Twelve Flying Knives well,” Dangbo said, a hint of hope in his voice.

“…” Chung Myung remained silent, considering his words.

“That way, even if someone ends up in the same situation as me, they won’t have to worry like I do, right?”

“Hmm…” Chung Myung hummed in response.

Just as Chung Myung was about to say that he was uncharacteristically thoughtful, Dangbo’s slightly annoyed voice reached his ears.

“Then maybe my family in the future won’t get beaten by some Daoist in black clothes who came from a poor mountain. I’ll just throw a Soul-Reaping Blade at them…” Dangbo said, a playful glint in his eyes.

Clang.

“Ah! Hey, hey! Why are you drawing your sword while we’re drinking! You really don’t understand jokes, do you? Did you spend your life cultivating in the mountains or something?” Dangbo exclaimed, feigning offense.

“Crazy bastard…” Chung Myung muttered again.

Chung Myung chuckled, sheathing his sword again and raising his glass. The liquor going down his throat tasted particularly bitter.

“What’s the point of that?” Chung Myung asked, his voice low.

“Huh?” Dangbo looked confused.

Chung Myung’s gloomy eyes turned to the window. Dark clouds obscuring the sun looked ready to pour down rain at any moment. “What do we care about the survivors? I might not even be alive until tomorrow.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s true too,” Dangbo conceded.

Chung Myung’s dark gaze returned to Dangbo.

“You’re treated like an outcast by the Tang family, yet you’re thinking about your descendants,” Chung Myung observed.

“Who’s an outcast? They just can’t handle me!” Dangbo protested.

“⋯⋯It’s not hard to see why they can’t handle you,” Chung Myung said dryly.

“Is that an insult?” Dangbo asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s a compliment,” Chung Myung replied with a straight face.

“It’s an insult!” Dangbo gritted his teeth. Seeing him like that, Chung Myung finally chuckled.

He wasn’t laughing because it was funny, but because he kept trying to laugh whenever there was something to laugh about.

The reason he kept looking at Dangbo, who wasn’t his martial brother, whenever he had time in this hellish battlefield, was probably for this reason.

‘A strange fellow.’

Even in this battlefield where people were losing their reason to exist as human beings, being able to shout, get angry, joke, and laugh like that was truly amazing.

“Still, it’s just something like that,” Dangbo said, his voice softer now.

“Huh?” Chung Myung asked, tilting his head.

Dangbo said, stroking the edge of the Soul-Reaping Blade in his hand with his fingertips.

“Someone…” His eyes, looking at his own face reflected in the blade, were sunken. The expression on his face, shadowed and dark, quickly vanished.

“Someone who carries on shouldn’t repeat the mistakes of the stupid ones before them. At least they should be better than us, right?”

“⋯⋯” Chung Myung didn’t respond, letting Dangbo’s words hang in the air.

But as if that were a thing of the distant future, Dangbo quickly erased the gloom from his face and smiled brightly.

“They might not have a boring Daoist who’s as skilled with a sword as a ghost by their side, though,” Dangbo joked, nudging Chung Myung with his elbow.

“Bullshit,” Chung Myung scoffed, but a small smile played on his lips.

“What can I do? Even though they’re just my bloodline, I used to hate even looking at those stupid bastards, but as I get older, I can’t help but worry about them,” Dangbo confessed, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

Dangbo chuckled. Chung Myung also laughed emptily and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling.

‘Someone to carry on, huh…

“Nonsense.”

“What do you mean, carry on? We won’t even see each other’s faces.”

“What do I care what happens after I die? I can’t even save the lives of those I live with right now. I only keep losing more and more as time goes on.”

“If you have time to think about that, kill one more bastard.”

“Yes?”

“Just don’t make any mistakes. If you cut off that feared Heavenly Demon’s head, a powerful evil being, at least your descendants won’t have to fight him.”

“Well… that’s true, I suppose.”

“So don’t worry.”

“What are you talking about now?”

Chung Myung curled up the corners of his lips.

“I’ll take that bastard’s head for you.”

“I keep telling you, that’s mine.”

Dangbo clicked his tongue.

“Fine. If you take the Heavenly Demon’s head, I’ll give you a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Heh! I’ll let you be the first to witness the new technique I create! That’ll be the day the Soul-Reaping Dagger is planted in your back, and the day I become the greatest under heaven… Ah, no! I told you not to draw your sword over a joke!”

“Die, you bastard!”

“Aaaargh! The Taoist priest Chung Myung is trying to kill someone!” Dangbo yelled dramatically, even though he was laughing.

Dangbo was making a fuss, exaggerating and whining. Suddenly, he stopped Chung Myung’s sword energy and laughed.

“I’d be happy if that day ever came.”

“……Just drink your wine.”

“Here, let me fill your glass.”

The wine flowing from the bottle slowly filled the white cup. The two men poured the liquor down their throats as if competing with each other, as if wanting to quench some parched place within them.

The two men simply drank until the rain that came with the night washed away the bloodstains of yesterday.

Chung Myung opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling.

His head slowly turned to the side. Warm, golden sunlight streamed through the paper window, painting stripes across the wooden floor.

Morning already? He blinked, the sunlight too bright after the darkness of the dream.

It had become a habit to wake up at dawn and go out for training. But returning to their training grounds at Mount Hua after so long seemed to have released the tension that had been dominating his body for years. Perhaps that’s why he had such a dream.

“……That happened.”

Yes, he had forgotten. He hadn’t considered the casual conversation important enough to remember every detail. Or rather, he hadn’t known it was important until now.

“The first to witness, huh……” Chung Myung chuckled. It was the face the Plum Blossom Sword Saint used to make.

“You idiot.”

Yes, he had kept his promise to behead the Heavenly Demon. He had cut off that head in the most pathetic way possible. And Dangbo had also kept his promise, in the most foolish way imaginable. Both were truly foolish and idiotic.

Chung Myung raised his gaze again. It was a different ceiling than the one he had seen at that time.

“……I said I wouldn’t let it happen again.”

If he had tried so hard to prevent it, and yet such a thing was going to be repeated… what meaning could there have been in those deaths back then?

Thud!

At that moment, the door burst open and familiar faces spilled into the room. No, rather than pouring in, they were spilled.

“Ugh! What the hell!” Even the great Chung Myung couldn’t help but be horrified at that moment.

“Aaaargh! I told you not to push!”

“No! It’s because you didn’t move out of the way!”

“I told you to let him rest! Sparring isn’t easy!”

“Why are you waking someone who’s sleeping!”

Chung Myung’s face went blank as he watched his fellow swordsmen, the Five Swords of Mount Hua, bickering while tangled and sprawled on the floor. He soon covered his face with both hands.

‘For the sake of these things…….’ Dangbo, doesn’t it seem like a pointless death? Huh?

“……Why?” Chung Myung asked weakly.

Baek Cheon, who was at the very bottom, covered his mouth with his fist and coughed dryly. But even so, he was sprawled out under his junior brothers, so there was no dignity to be found even if one searched with a magnifying glass.

“No, well… I had something to ask about the sparring match yesterday.”

“…….”

“No matter how much I think about it, I don’t understand the technique’s application.”

“Explain it to me.”

“…….”

Chung Myung, momentarily speechless, stared blankly at them and asked.

“You all came rushing here from the crack of dawn just for that?”

“The crack of dawn! The sun’s been up for ages!”

“What if we put it off again and forget? We have to figure this out right away.”

A hollow laugh escaped Chung Myung’s lips. Looking at those guys with their eyes sparkling… no, gleaming wildly, he felt foolish for having been even slightly depressed.

“Application?”

“Yeah.”

“If I tell you, you’ll be able to understand?”

“…….”

“You see as much as you know. How can I explain what you can’t see because you’re weak? It’s like teaching a monkey to read.”

“You son of a bitch……”

“See? I told you I wouldn’t hear anything good!”

“Kack! Spit!”

As a flurry of noisy reactions poured out, Chung Myung shook his head and got out of bed.

“If you have time to talk nonsense, go train. Don’t slack off just because you’re back in Mount Hua.”

“We all did except you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re the only one slacking off, you bastard!” Baek Cheon subtly blocked Chung Myung, who was shaking his head and trying to leave.

Chung Myung looked up with a sulky face.

“Why?”

Baek Cheon twisted the corners of his lips.

“I’m sure it’ll be hard to understand with just your head.”

“Huh?”

“But……I think I can understand with my body?”

“…….”

“How about it? As a warm-up?”

Chung Myung opened his mouth as if he had something to say, then shook his head.

“Looks like the place you got hit last time is all healed up now?”

“It’s already completely healed, you bastard.” Baek Cheon smiled triumphantly. He looked ready to puff out his nostrils, and Chung Myung laughed.

“Alright, let’s meet at the training grounds. I’ll break the place that was broken again, nice and pretty.”

“Okay.”

The Five Swords headed outside without another word. Jo Gul, who was at the very back, grabbed Baek Cheon’s shoulder and rushed forward.

“I’m first!”

“Hey, you bastard! Don’t you have any respect for your elders!”

“There’s no such thing in Mount Hua!”

“Gap!”

“Samae! Hey! Yuisul!”

Chung Myung stood there and watched them. As he watched the backs of the Five Swords running out, bickering among themselves, he seemed to hear the voices he had heard in his dream.

– The ones who carry on must not repeat the mistakes of the foolish ones before them. At least they must be better than us, right?

Chung Myung looked at the window where the sunlight was pouring in. Unlike that time, the weather was very clear.

“Yeah. They’re better than us. Better than idiots like you and me.”