Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 1522

It was the middle of the night. All the tired Mount Hua disciples had fallen asleep.

Pitter-patter.

Poong Young-shingae carefully poured wine into an empty glass. The way he held the bottle showed great politeness and respect.

He set the bottle down quietly and spoke to the person across from him.

“Sword Saint…”

Chung Myung chuckled.

“Well, not anymore.”

“Then…?”

“Call me whatever you like. You can call me Sword Demon like before, or Chung Myung. Hmm… No, Head Disciple. Head Disciple sounds best to me.”

Poong Young-shingae’s face turned a little pale.

“How dare I…”

“It’s fine.”

Chung Myung picked up the glass Poong Young-shingae had filled and drank it all in one gulp.

“Khaa.”

“…”

“There’s nothing to brag about, being old. Besides, I’m actually younger, aren’t I?”

“That’s true, but still…”

“Let’s not worry about that. Just call me Head Disciple.”

“If you insist.”

The two were quiet for a moment.

They didn’t know each other well except for knowing each other’s real identities. There wasn’t much else to talk about.

Poong Young-shingae knew more about Chung Myung, so he continued the conversation.

“Thank you, Head Disciple.”

“Why are you suddenly thanking me?”

Chung Myung shrugged. “I didn’t help you because I wanted to, so you don’t need to thank me. I was going to deal with the Beggars’ Union anyway, even if it wasn’t you.”

“But it wouldn’t have been the same, would it?”

“Hmm.”

Chung Myung didn’t say yes or no, and moved his glass closer to Poong Young-shingae. Poong Young-shingae quickly refilled it.

“I heard you’re leaving at dawn.”

“There’s no reason to stay longer.”

Even though things seemed to end well, they still fought with the Beggars’ Union. If they stayed and were easy to notice, the anger in the Beggars’ Union could get much worse quickly.

So, it was best to leave quickly so they could fix things themselves.

Poong Young-shingae sighed.

He understood Chung Myung’s reasons. He knew it was the right thing to do. But…

“Why? Do you want me to do something else?”

“How could I ask for more? I’m just worried that I haven’t repaid you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Repayments? I’ve already been repaid.”

“Yes?”

Chung Myung looked up at the ceiling, towards the one sleeping above them.

“You gave me too much already.”

His voice was bitter.

Poong Young-shingae couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be alone in a world where everyone he knew was dead.

“I thank you on behalf of my master, too.”

“Tch, stop with the flattery.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue and picked up his glass. This time, he slowly tasted the wine, as if enjoying it.

The bitter and spicy taste stayed in his mouth. But no matter how strong the wine, the taste eventually disappeared.

“Let me tell you something.”

“Yes.”

“That bastard was definitely wrong.”

Poong Young-shingae nodded. As a disciple, he shouldn’t judge his master, but even his master admitted this. Poong Young-shingae had seen the results of his master’s actions himself.

If Chung Myung had arrived one day later, the Beggars’ Union would have been taken over by Ilhoshin-gae, and the honor they were trying to rebuild would have been badly damaged.

Then, Chung Myung spoke quietly.

“But.”

Poong Young-shingae looked at him.

“Even so, I don’t want to blame him.”

Poong Young-shingae felt a bitterness he didn’t understand.

“That bastard must have tried hard in his own way. Yes, he must have been lonely.”

Chung Myung didn’t say the words out loud.

“Ahem.”

Chung Myung cleared his throat, feeling strange. Then, he looked up at the ceiling.

“Anyway, when the time is right, bury him in a sunny place.”

“You said to leave him there before…”

“Yes, I did.”

Chung Myung chuckled.

“I couldn’t control my feelings. It’s best for the dead not to leave any regrets. The living are responsible for everything, good or bad.”

Poong Young-shingae nodded. Even if he didn’t understand everything, he knew Chung Myung meant well.

Chung Myung glanced at him and added.

“Don’t blame yourself, either.”

Poong Young-shingae smiled slightly.

“I’m happy just to have the chance to make up for my mistakes.”

“How brave.”

Poong Young-shingae laughed without thinking. ‘How brave’ sounded like a compliment for a child. Maybe Poong Young-shingae was like a child to Chung Myung.

“It’s true that Uncle Hong is clumsy. But…”

“Yes. The Beggars’ Union was never perfect.”

Poong Young-shingae smiled, as if he knew what Chung Myung was going to say.

“I don’t know if he can be a great leader, but I believe the Beggars’ Union will be a great place under him.”

“Hmm.”

“That would be the right thing. I wish I had known sooner.”

Chung Myung nodded, as if that was enough, and finished the wine Poong Young-shingae had poured. He didn’t say anything else. He had said all he wanted to say.

But Poong Young-shingae still had a question.

“Sword Saint.”

Chung Myung narrowed his eyes instead of answering.

Poong Young-shingae didn’t call him Head Disciple, but Sword Saint. He remembered their earlier conversation.

“Will you keep fighting?”

This was a question for Chung Myung as a martial artist, not about the Beggars’ Union or Mount Hua.

Clunk.

Chung Myung put down his glass and answered calmly.

“I will.”

“Doesn’t the Sword Saint know?”

The biggest reason the Beggars’ Union had gotten worse was because they believed they could never stop the darkness that was coming.

“He will return.”

Chung Myung turned and looked out the window.

“More powerful than before.”

The torches lit by those who were still recovering flickered in Gaebong.

The light showed that people were alive.

And ‘he’ was the one who destroyed the light.

Wherever he went, the light disappeared, and the world went back to darkness.

Chung Myung imagined the lights of Gaebong being eaten away one by one.

It was like a natural disaster that no one could stop. That darkness…

“Hmm.”

Chung Myung took a short breath, as if trying to hold back something.

“So?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want me to do about him coming back?”

Poong Young-shingae looked confused.

“Well…”

“Well, if that bastard comes back, I’ll feel like I went out to pee and got caught in a landslide.”

“…”

“But…”

Chung Myung grinned.

“Is it just me?”

“Yes?”

“Wouldn’t that bastard be hit by a landslide, too? He barely survived dying, and the guy who cut off his head is still around, isn’t he?”

Poong Young-shingae felt surprised.

He had never thought of it that way.

“I’m not going to complain about it being too much. That bastard will be much more scared, won’t he? Won’t his neck be tingling?”

“Ha… Haha…”

Poong Young-shingae laughed. He understood why Chung Myung hadn’t given up, unlike his master.

Chung Myung smiled.

“The world isn’t about doing what’s possible. It’s about making the difficult and impossible happen. That’s how humans have gotten this far.”

Poong Young-shingae nodded.

“That’s right.”

“And I have a headache just thinking about that gigolo down there, let alone the Heavenly Demon.”

“You mean the Fallen King.”

“Yeah. If you guys had acted like human beings, this wouldn’t have happened. What? Uh-oh-uh-oh. Jang Il-so is in Sichuan?”

Chung Myung mocked them. His eyes were fierce. Poong Young-shingae lowered his head.

“Even if I had ten mouths…”

“Those damn bastards, really.”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue.

“I’m not telling you to sacrifice yourselves.”

“…”

“If sacrifice is unavoidable, I will be at the very front. So don’t feel wronged.”

“I will keep that in mind, Sword Saint. No… Head Disciple.”

That was enough.

If the Sword Saint of the Plum Blossoms, not the Nine Great Sects, had been in charge in the past, the Beggars’ Union wouldn’t have suffered so much.

It wasn’t death that was scary, but dying for no reason.

Chung Myung picked up the wine bottle and filled Poong Young-shingae’s glass. Poong Young-shingae quickly took the glass.

“You drink too.”

“How dare I…”

“You too…”

“Yes?”

Chung Myung cleared his throat and spoke quietly.

“You’ve worked hard, too.”

Poong Young-shingae stared at Chung Myung, speechless. Then, he smiled slightly.

Chung Myung said gruffly.

“What are you doing? Drink!”

“Yes, Sword Saint.”

Words like ‘I will change’ or ‘I will show you a new Beggars’ Union’ were meaningless.

‘Master.’

Poong Young-shingae closed his eyes as he drank the wine.

‘This person is different from what Master said.’

This person wasn’t a leader.

Yes, this person made you want to follow him.

Early dawn.

“Ugh…”

“Why is this bastard like this?”

“I don’t know. Did he drink too much?”

“A Mount Hua disciple! Hey! Get rid of your hangover!”

“Leave him alone. He hates wasting alcohol, so he won’t.”

The Mount Hua disciples sighed as they looked at Chung Myung, who was half-passed out.

“What do we do with him?”

“We have to carry him…”

“Carry him?”

“If you don’t want to, step aside. I will…”

“Ugh, urgh, blaaargh!”

“…”

Baek Cheon turned pale when he saw Chung Myung throwing up. He turned away.

“Let’s leave him behind.”

“Carry him on your back, Senior Uncle.”

“You have to set an example!”

“Sh-Shut up!”

Then, Chung Myung shook his head and grabbed his forehead.

“Ugh… Oh, I’m going to die.”

That beggar was strong. He seemed weak, but…

Then, Tang Soso tilted her head.

“Are we really leaving like this?”

“What else?”

“What about a farewell party…?”

“Don’t bother. What kind of farewell party can we have when the headquarters is destroyed and everyone is crying?”

“We’re lucky if we don’t get beaten up.”

“It’s not our fault, is it?”

Tang Soso frowned and protested. Baek Cheon smiled.

“We’ll see the Beggars’ Union again soon, so let’s leave quietly.”

“Hmm. Something’s not right. Are you serious, Senior Uncle?”

Tang Soso stared at him, and Baek Cheon looked troubled.

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course. What can’t we be honest about?”

“Well, Shaolin and Lee So-hyup left without asking for thanks, but if we stay and try to have a farewell party…”

“Let’s go now.”

“Let’s go quickly.”

“It’s embarrassing just thinking about it.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Everyone agreed. They had to leave.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“No, it’s good to go, but what about this bastard?”

“Please, Jo Gul!”

“Do your best, Senior Brother!”

“Huh?”

Jo Gul held Chung Myung, who was limp. His senior and junior brothers were already far away.

“Those…”

“Ugh, urgh, blaaargh!”

“…”

Ah. Disgusting.