Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 1241

The air in the room was thick with the smell of strong liquor. *Glug, glug, glug.* Yoo-gong watched the glass fill, as if about to overflow, and heard a voice, thick with drink, beside him.

“Not drinking?”

Yoo-gong raised his head, glanced at Chung Myung, who was grinning foolishly, and brought the glass to his lips, downing it in one gulp.

“Oh. You drink well? Good.”

He felt the liquor burn like fire down his throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. But Yoo-gong didn’t even twitch an eyebrow as he emptied the glass.

Clunk.

Then, he set the emptied glass down.

“Now, you must have another.”

Chung Myung chuckled as he poured more liquor into the glass. Yoo-gong simply stared at Chung Myung as he poured.

Yoo-gong wanted to ask many things. But he knew he couldn’t say everything he felt. He had to be careful.

Yoo-gong lightly lifted the full glass, pretended to glance around, and opened his mouth.

“I was surprised.”

“Hmm?”

Chung Myung tilted his head slightly, and Yoo-gong gave a faint smile.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but we, the people of Hae Nam, don’t generally hold particularly fond feelings towards mainlanders.”

“Hmph?”

“Of course, it might sound a little strange to others. Hae Nam is, in name and reality, a great sect occupying one of the Nine Great Sects.”

“But no matter how high Hae Nam’s reputation has risen, the years, the history, of being treated as lowly islanders cannot be erased.”

Chung Myung watched Yoo-gong in silence.

“And then… the Jang Kang Non-Aggression Pact happened, and those feelings intensified even further.”

Yoo-gong chuckled.

Everyone thought the same thing, even if they didn’t say it out loud. They wondered: If Hae Nam wasn’t an island sect, would things be different? If another powerful sect was ignored like this, would people care more?

Yoo-gong turned his head slightly to look at the sprawled figures.

“Those who harbor ill feelings towards mainlanders are now mixed with the foreigners who arrived today, drinking themselves into oblivion.”

“Hwa San may be a sect with strong secular tendencies, but when you consider it, it is a traditional Taoist temple boasting an even longer history than the Wu-Tang. It seems that saying is not wrong. Seeing you perform such Taoist arts, I mean.”

Yoo-gong’s eyes searched Chung Myung as if probing.

“No… or perhaps that’s not it. If you don’t mind me asking, is Hwa San’s Taoist skill sublime? Or is it because the Hwa San Sword Saint is so good at controlling people?”

Chung Myung chuckled at those words. And Yoo-gong tried his best to match that laughter with a smile, until the next words were spoken.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking nonsense and drink up. Three glasses. You’ve only had one.”

“Drink.”

Yoo-gong cleared his throat and brought the glass to his lips. Then, as with the previous glass, he downed the full glass in one go.

“If I catch you using internal energy, I’ll make you spit out the cost of the precious liquor, so keep that in mind.”

“Now, another one.”

Chung Myung grinned as he refilled the empty glass. Yoo-gong’s face paled slightly as he watched the liquor rise.

He was drinking it down to avoid being pushed back by the momentum, but originally, Hae Nam’s liquor wasn’t a cloudy rice wine to be drunk from such a glass, but a potent spirit to be sipped carefully from a small cup.

Even though he was a martial artist, drinking such strong liquor in quick succession without using internal energy was quite a burden.

Chung Myung leaned back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Want to know the answer to your question?”

Yoo-gong swallowed hard, the liquor already making his head spin. “Y-yes?”

Chung Myung pointed at the glass in Yoo-gong’s hand. “Then drink up. Show me you’re serious. After you finish this one, I’ll tell you everything.”

Yoo-gong hesitated for a moment. *Was this really necessary?* he wondered. But he knew he couldn’t back down now. He steeled himself, his face tightening slightly, and raised the glass to his lips. He had to know the answer.

“Oh. You drink well?”

Glug! Glug!

Yoo-gong endured the burning sensation in his throat and forced the liquor down, tearing the glass away from his lips as if throwing it.

“Kuh!”

A groan, like a scream, escaped his lips.

Each time he opened his mouth, the pungent aroma of liquor flowed out intensely, and his stomach felt as hot as if he had swallowed lava. He felt the blood in his entire body heating up and circulating twice as fast.

“Good.”

Chung Myung chuckled and poured liquor into his own glass with a splash. Then, as soon as the glass was full, he snatched it up and gulped it down.

“Kroooooh!”

Thump!

The glass, which should have been called a bowl rather than a glass, landed on the floor with a clear sound.

Chung Myung wiped his lips with his sleeve and said, watching Yoo-gong, who was struggling to control the rapidly rising intoxication.

“So.”

“Yes?”

“What were you curious about?”

“That’s… uh…”

Yoo-gong stammered, momentarily flustered. Chung Myung grinned at the sight.

“I guess you wouldn’t remember. You probably just asked whatever came out of your mouth without really being curious.”

Yoo-gong’s cheeks burned red. He avoided Chung Myung’s gaze, suddenly feeling foolish.

“But I’ll answer anyway. I didn’t really do anything.”

Chung Myung turned his head to look at the sprawled figures.

“I just told them to bring the liquor, and I drank it. The rest of them just drank themselves into that state.”

Yoo-gong sighed.

“Although Hae Nam’s disciples have a simple side, and there are even those who take pride in it, they are not foolish enough to show such a disgraceful appearance in front of guests who arrived today. It must be something the Hwa San Sword Saint did.”

“Has this old man lived his life being deceived? I’m telling you I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes. That may be the case.”

Yoo-gong nodded silently.

“But when you think about it, that’s even more amazing. The atmosphere around you changes naturally without you doing anything…”

“Hey.”

Yoo-gong frowned slightly at Chung Myung’s voice, which cut off his words.

“My glass is empty. Want another?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Why? Is there something you might say if you’re drunk that you shouldn’t?”

Yoo-gong shook his head, feeling the liquor burn. He knew this drinking game was more than just about alcohol. Something important was about to happen.

“Drink,”

Chung Myung poured more liquor into Yoo-gong’s cup.

Yoo-gong looked from Chung Myung to the cup, his face showing he wasn’t sure what to do. Chung Myung shrugged, like it was no big deal.

“Don’t worry,” Chung Myung said. “I don’t like making people drink if they don’t want to. It’s a waste of good stuff. And I don’t have much for myself anyway.” He grinned a little.

“Then…”

“You don’t have to drink. But if you’re not going to, please move aside. I want to enjoy my drink, not just talk.”

“⋯⋯”

“So? Are we drinking or talking? Choose one.”

Yoo-gong sighed and picked up the cup. This time, he drank slowly. Chung Myung grinned when he saw this.

“You’re still reasonable.”

“Kuh.”

Yoo-gong set the cup down, his hand shaking slightly. His face flushed, as if it was about to catch fire.

“Ahem. I told you not to use your special power to resist the alcohol. What a waste of good liquor.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue and gulped down the liquor in his own cup.

After they finished their first drinks, Chung Myung continued the conversation.

“Am I amazing?”

Chung Myung smirked.

“You don’t understand. I haven’t really done anything, you know?”

“⋯⋯Then.”

“This isn’t a show that happened because I’m amazing. It’s the opposite.”

“Yes?”

Chung Myung pointed his chin towards the fallen men.

“What do you think?”

“⋯⋯They look pathetic.”

That was his honest feeling. It wasn’t how someone should look when they were hosting guests.

Yoo-gong thought he should be able to judge them. Even if he had left Hainan and maybe shouldn’t criticize.

“Really?”

Chung Myung chuckled and poured himself another drink. Then, he gave an opinion that was the opposite of Yoo-gong’s.

“They look amazing to me.”

“⋯⋯”

Yoo-gong closed his mouth. He was partly drunk, but also because he couldn’t understand Chung Myung’s words.

“Like you said, even if they’re young and simple, they wouldn’t be so thoughtless as to get drunk and collapse in front of people visiting Hainan for the first time today, right?”

Yoo-gong nodded, his eyes unfocused.

“So why do you think they did? Did they fall apart because I knew how to push their buttons?”

“⋯⋯”

“No. I didn’t do anything. Everyone was already at their limit. They’ve been holding on, pushing themselves in a situation where they don’t know when something might explode. They feel like tomorrow might be the last day they live.”

Chung Myung’s eyes sank as he looked at the men who had passed out from drinking.

The sight of the fallen men reminded him of things he knew.

He remembered those who drank too much after battle, collapsing as if they were fainting.

He remembered those who drank to forget, driven by the guilt and relief of surviving when others died, and the fear of having to return to battle tomorrow.

Yes. That was truly painful.

But back then, they were soldiers who knew what they were fighting for and could handle the consequences. But the ones here now are still too young.

Therefore…

“It’s amazing they’ve lasted this long.”

“⋯⋯”

“What makes someone collapse isn’t something big, but a small relief. Not the relief of not having to hold on anymore, but the small relief that they might be safe, at least for tonight, for a few hours.”

“⋯⋯”

“That’s all I gave them.”

Yoo-gong opened his mouth as if to speak, but then lowered his head. A groan escaped his lips as he kept his head down.

“⋯⋯We weren’t holding on.”

“Huh?”

“We just had nowhere to run. Nowhere in the world.”

Chung Myung looked up at the ceiling.

“⋯⋯Yeah. That.”

I know.

I know it too well.

“So, leave them alone. Sometimes, people want to let go even when they know they shouldn’t. They’ll regret it tomorrow, but sometimes that gives them the strength to keep going.”

Yoo-gong looked at Kwak Hwan-so’s face. His face, which had been hard as a rock recently, looked a little more relaxed for once.

Maybe Chung Myung was right.

Maybe they didn’t need a clear answer or a goal, but just the chance to fall asleep without thinking for tonight.

But… They can do that, but he…

“Drink.”

Chung Myung suddenly held out a cup to Yoo-gong.

“⋯⋯”

Chung Myung said casually as Yoo-gong stared at the cup.

“Whatever your position, whatever your story.”

“⋯⋯”

“Even if you might become an ally or an enemy tomorrow, you’ve held on until now just like them.”

“⋯⋯”

“Since I also have a position, there are things I can’t say in the morning. So, I’ll say it now.”

Chung Myung smiled slightly. Then, he looked at Yoo-gong and spoke in a softer voice.

“You’ve done well. Kid.”

“⋯⋯”

Yoo-gong’s shoulders trembled slightly.

It was arrogant and presumptuous.

But strangely, Yoo-gong didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, he…

“Drink. And pass out. You can deal with the problems tomorrow.”

Yoo-gong stared at Chung Myung, dazed.

“Aren’t you going to drink?”

“⋯⋯”

A slightly trembling hand took the cup. Yoo-gong received the drink with both hands and slowly began to drink.

“Good.”

Chung Myung slowly poured liquor into his own cup. Then, he brought the cup to his lips, as if having a proper drink with Yoo-gong.

The liquor before was for them, but this liquor was entirely for him.

‘Everyone.’

The image of the Ten Thousand Great Mountains flashed through his mind.

‘Don’t blame them too much. I’ll go there someday too.’

The strong liquor went down his throat.

The memories of the past were washed away by the liquor and sank deep down. But…

Only the scent of the liquor lingered around Chung Myung.

Like those days long ago.