Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 332

The Abbot wants to talk again,” Beopkye said.

Hyun Jong groaned. “Ugh…”

Beopkye continued, “He wants another meeting with the Head…”

“Ughhhh,” Hyun Jong groaned louder.

Beopkye frowned. “Head, are you even listening?”

Hyun Jong, looking pale, waved his hand. He turned his head weakly and said, his voice sounding like he was about to die, “Chung Myung-ah, something to drink. Is there anything to drink?”

“Here you go.”

Chung Myung offered a clean, white gourd as if he had been waiting for this. But when Hyun Jong saw the gourd, he covered his mouth and gagged.

His face was pale and sweaty, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.

“Ugh… Surely it’s not… alcohol, is it?”

“It’s water. Water.”

“Ughhhh.”

Just looking at the white bottle made him shudder.

‘That boy is so rude.’

Even if Hyun Jong was in a good mood, feeding the Head alcohol until he passed out… Was this something a Taoist disciple should do?

Well, it wasn’t like Hyun Jong, who had readily accepted the alcohol and lost consciousness, had any right to complain.

Feeling a bit uneasy, Hyun Jong gulped down the water Chung Myung offered. Finally, he sighed in relief as his stomach settled. He took a deep breath and looked at Beopkye.

“I’m sorry to look so terrible.”

Usually, upon hearing such words, the polite response would be, ‘Please, don’t give it a second thought.’ But Beopkye simply couldn’t bring himself to say those words.

‘Can he really just ignore how awful he looks?’

If it weren’t for the Abbot’s earnest request not to cause any trouble, he would have shouted several times already. Where else would you find people casually grilling meat and drinking alcohol inside the Shaolin Temple?

This was something that had never happened since Shaolin was founded.

‘Everything is unprecedented.’

Now, he was starting to wonder how he should understand the Mount Hua sect at all.

Hyun Jong opened his mouth, his face a little more relaxed. “So… what was the matter you wanted to talk about?”

Beopkye put his palms together. “The Abbot wishes to speak with you again.”

“Hmm. If it’s the same story as before, I don’t think there’s anything more to say.”

“No, Head. The Abbot said it’s something he has never shared with anyone before.”

“Hmm?”

Hyun Jong looked at Beopkye, a bit questioning.

“And this is something only Mount Hua can do. So, he wants to put aside any uncomfortable feelings and have a conversation for the future and well-being of the Jianghu. So…”

Just then, Chung Myung, who had been listening quietly, suddenly leaned forward, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he already suspected the answer was nothing special and asked bluntly, “What’s so grand about it?”

Beopkye, who hadn’t finished speaking, stopped mid-sentence and turned to Chung Myung. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his lips tightened for a moment before he continued, his voice a little stiffer than before.

‘There’s no courtesy to be found.’

But Beopjeong’s earnest request not to create any disputes brushed past his ears again.

Taking a slight deep breath, he forced himself to ignore Chung Myung’s words and continued speaking. “You will be able to hear the details from the Abbot. And if possible, he also wishes to see the Divine Dragon of Mount Hua.”

“Hmm.”

Hyun Jong nodded quietly. “I understand. Please tell him that I will visit him soon.”

“Yes, then.”

Beopkye stood up quickly as if he didn’t want to stay there any longer. He glanced at Chung Myung, then turned and left the room without hesitating.

“How chilling.”

Chung Myung exaggeratedly sighed and joked.

“Chung Myung-ah.”

“Yes, Head.”

“What do you think?”

Chung Myung shrugged. “Aren’t they just going to say what everyone already knows?”

“Heeeuuuum. The obvious, you say.”

“Because there are only a few things they can do.”

Hyun Jong quietly stroked his chin.

There was some truth in Chung Myung’s words, but Hyun Jong, unlike him, was thinking about the ‘method’ rather than the means.

‘Beopjeong.’

The Abbot of Shaolin.

‘It’s only been a day.’

It was only yesterday that he collapsed, vomiting blood because of Chung Myung’s actions, but in just one day, he’s moving so actively?

“Heo.”

No matter what kind of person he is, he is very determined. It seemed that this was what it took to lead the great sect of Shaolin.

“I need to reflect as well.”

“Yes, you drank too much. It was a bit excessive.”

“…”

That’s because of you, you rascal!

“…Come… back safely, Head…”

“Chung Myung-ah… Ugh. You too… You be careful as well.”

“Head… Uwaaaaaaaah.”

Hyun Jong shook his head, listening to the farewells of his disciples who were half-corpses from their hangovers.

“It doesn’t seem like it will take too long. Prepare to leave soon.”

“Yes, Head…”

He sighed deeply and left the palace with Chung Myung.

“Hmm.”

As the two walked quietly between the palaces, Hyun Jong looked around and groaned softly. The air was still and quiet, unlike the noisy crowds of yesterday. The scent of incense hung in the air, and the only sounds were the soft rustle of robes and the distant chanting from another hall.

“It feels like a completely different place from yesterday.”

“The visitors who came to watch must have all returned.”

“That must be it.”

That meant that what they were seeing now was the usual Shaolin. There were some pilgrims here and there, but overall, it was quiet and felt very respectful.

However, Hyun Jong noticed the small hostility in the eyes of the Shaolin monks who passed by.

‘As expected, they don’t look at us kindly.’

He slowly moved his feet and spoke. “Chung Myung-ah.”

“Yes, Head.”

“What do you think the Abbot will say?”

“…Hmm.”

“No. Before that.”

Hyun Jong’s voice was softer now, filled with a worry he tried to hide. “What do you think Mount Hua should do from now on?”

Perhaps it wasn’t right for the Head of a sect to have this conversation with his third-generation disciple. But Hyun Jong had never thought of Chung Myung as just a simple third-generation disciple.

“Hmm.”

Chung Myung scratched his cheek and smiled brightly. “I don’t know?”

“Right. You still don’t… Huh?”

Hyun Jong’s head slowly turned towards Chung Myung. “…You don’t know?”

“No.”

“…Then what were you saying at that martial arts stage?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said that Mount Hua will walk the path of Mount Hua, didn’t you?”

“Just going wherever I feel like is the path, isn’t it? Is there a need to decide on it?”

“…”

Hyun Jong’s head began to throb.

Was trusting this rascal really the right thing to do?

Chung Myung smirked at Hyun Jong’s expression. “Anyway, one thing is certain.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s nothing we can do together with Shaolin.”

“…I see.”

Hyun Jong also knew that fact well. The problem was that Beopjeong probably knew that fact as well.

They wanted to meet. This meant they had a plan to solve the problems. Hyun Jong needed to hear this plan before leaving Mount Song.

“Let’s hear what they have to say.”

“Welcome.”

Beopjeong greeted Hyun Jong and Cheong Myeong with a bow. He looked a little pale, but he was still smiling.

Hyun Jong returned the bow quietly.

“Are you feeling better, Abbot?”

Beopjeong nodded slowly.

“Thank you for your concern. I am managing. I apologize for looking so unwell.”

Beopjeong spoke softly and pointed to the seats.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Yes.”

Hyun Jong cleared his throat nervously and sat down. This was his second time visiting this place.

The first time he came to Shaolin Temple, he was talking with Beopjeong when Cheong Myeong… well, when the Mount Hua disciples were happily beating up the Hainan Sect disciples…

‘Now that I think about it, I couldn’t have a proper conversation back then either, because of that rascal.’

Thinking about it now, maybe it was a good thing…

Only two weeks had passed. But things had changed a lot between them in that short time.

Beopjeong quietly poured tea into cups and offered them to the two men. It was a simple gesture.

“Please, drink.”

“Yes.”

Hyun Jong took the tea and nudged Cheong Myeong, who hadn’t moved. Cheong Myeong reluctantly picked up his cup, looking annoyed.

Cheong Myeong would rather drink cold water than tea, so he wasn’t happy.

Beopjeong smiled quietly and said, “You seem to have had a good night.”

“…What do you mean?”

Beopjeong smiled as he looked at Hyun Jong.

“I smell alcohol.”

Hyun Jong’s face turned red, as if he was embarrassed.

“I apologize. I felt I needed to comfort my disciples.”

“Indeed. That could be the case.”

Beopjeong didn’t seem angry.

“But what brings you here?”

“Yes. I’ll get straight to the point.”

Beopjeong sighed softly and spoke in a serious voice.

“Sect Leader.”

“Yes.”

“Shaolin is in a difficult position because of what Mount Hua did in yesterday’s competition.”

Hyun Jong waited quietly for Beopjeong’s next words, smiling awkwardly. He didn’t need to apologize or explain their position.

“However, Shaolin doesn’t blame Mount Hua for that.”

“…Yes?”

“When you think about it, Shaolin started it. Or, you could say the Jianghu started it. If we have any shame, how can we blame Mount Hua?”

Hyun Jong looked surprised. Then, Cheong Myeong spoke casually.

“Those words would be more meaningful if you said them before the fight.”

“…”

“Or at least before the last fight.”

Beopjeong’s eyes twitched.

But he quickly looked calm again.

“The little Taoist is right. It’s my fault for being foolish.”

Cheong Myeong curled his lips, intrigued by this unexpected reaction.

‘Interesting?’

He is the Abbot of Shaolin. He is not easy to deal with.

Cheong Myeong began to wonder what the Abbot of Shaolin was trying to say, even if it meant swallowing his pride.

‘It seems like they want to work together again somehow.’

Everyone knows that won’t work. So, they must have a plan that Mount Hua will find very hard to say no to.

‘They’re not going to talk about bringing back the Nine Sects, are they?’

If they said that, he would get very angry.

Cheong Myeong stared at him, urging him to speak. Beopjeong cleared his throat and said,

“The reason I asked the Sect Leader here is because Shaolin needs Mount Hua’s help with something urgent.”

“Urgent?”

Beopjeong glanced at the door.

“Excuse me. Beopgye, bring it in.”

“Yes!”

A strong voice answered from outside. The door opened, and a large wooden box was carried into the room.

The wooden box was so big that it took two people to carry it.

Hyun Jong’s face became serious when he realized it was a coffin.

“Abbot?”

“…Please, wait a moment.”

Hyun Jong looked at the coffin and then at Beopjeong, confused. He said he had something to say, but why bring in a coffin?

Beopgye put the coffin down, bowed, and left.

Three people and one coffin.

The atmosphere in the room became heavy.

“Amitabha.”

Beopjeong chanted the Buddha’s name softly and looked at the two men with sad eyes.

“Shaolin has followers all over the world.”

“That’s normal…”

“The body in this coffin is a disciple of the Samgwangmun, one of Shaolin’s followers. He was scouting the Northern Sea for Shaolin.”

“…The Northern Sea?”

“Yes. The Northern Sea. But he could only check the entrance. People from the Central Plains can’t enter the Northern Sea anymore.”

“…But why is he dead? Did he fight with the Northern Sea Ice Palace?”

If so, this is serious.

The relationship between the Four Outer Palaces and the Central Plains was so bad that even a small problem could start a war.

That’s why Cheong Myeong and his group had trouble entering Yunnan.

But Beopjeong shook his head.

“That would be better.”

“…Better?”

Then what happened?

Hyun Jong and Cheong Myeong looked doubtful. Beopjeong chanted the Buddha’s name again and stood up, walking to the coffin.

He opened the coffin with a firm hand.

“Ugh!”

Hyun Jong’s face twisted. No one wants to see a dead body up close.

‘Why is this…’

Just then…

Cheong Myeong suddenly released a terrifying murderous intent, something Hyun Jong had never felt before.

But it disappeared quickly.

‘Was I wrong?’

Cheong Myeong slowly stood up.

He walked closer to the coffin.

He stared at the body, his eyes cold.

There were red and black spots on the corpse’s pale skin.

“…Demonic Flowers.”

Cheong Myeong gritted his teeth and glared at Beopjeong. His eyes were like a hungry beast.

“The Demonic Sect?”

“Amitabha. Shaolin suspects that as well.”

Veins popped out on Cheong Myeong’s jaw as he clenched his teeth.

He didn’t need to suspect anything.

This was Demonic Flowers. It is a wound on the bodies of those attacked by Demonic Arts.

And it wasn’t a weak Demonic Flower like the one during the Hwang Dae-in incident. It was a real Demonic Flower that he had seen many times before.

“The Demonic Sect…”

Cheong Myeong’s lips twisted cruelly.

“Explain.”

His voice was cold.

“What is going on?”