Eunsong’s complexion turned pale.
Cheon Soyak found that quite amusing.
“Wh-Who said they were looking for me?”
“Master Myeonggon told me to call for you, sir.”
“Oh no. It had to be Master, of all people?”
“Is there a problem, sir?”
She shook her head.
“Myeonggon, huh… He would be your grandmaster. In any case, avoid him if you can.”
“Why is that…?”
“He hit me a lot. He’s someone who hits. A lot.”
“Ah.”
Cheon Soyak blinked quietly, then slowly nodded.
“I will be careful.”
“Alright then, let’s get going quickly. If we’re late, he might smack your head again…”
Unlucky premonitions rarely miss their mark.
This time was no different—Eunsong had to take a palm strike to the crown of his head the moment Myeonggon saw his face.
“Eunsong, you rascal!”
-Thwack!
The sound that burst out wasn’t one you’d expect from a mere palm strike.
Eunsong clutched his head and groaned.
“Master! To strike a disciple who’s returned after half a year…!”
“That’s my line, you brat! Mine!“
Eunsong, second-generation disciple.
He was one of the two disciples directly brought in during the time when Master Myeonggon’s own master, Elder Jeonggang, was still an active first-generation disciple.
Back then, Mount Hwasan was thrown into chaos.
In a typical sect, the sect leader and elders are old men.
First-generation disciples are in their 40s or 50s.
Second-generation disciples are in their 20s or 30s.
And only third-generation disciples are teenagers.
But Jeonggang had brought in two kids barely in their teens as second-generation disciples.
It was one thing to silence the third-generation disciples’ complaints, but…
How could the second-generation disciples be expected to accept it?
These greenhorns are your “juniors”?
In the end, Jeonggang’s disciple Myeonggon became their nominal master and took the two in.
But Eunsong and his fellow disciple Eunjung proved their worth.
Eunjung defeated all her seniors within three years.
Then, five years ago, she won the Yongbongjihoe tournament, becoming the most promising talent among the later generation.
Now, she’s the bright young face of Hwasan, a rising star, and a master admired by all.
Eunsong, too, contributed to Hwasan.
With his insight into martial arts and his eye for hidden talent, he rivaled even his master Jeonggang.
The issue was…
In the world of martial arts, the talents worth recruiting were usually children.
Just like Jeonggang had once brought in Eunsong and Eunjung.
“I already assigned three third-generation disciples under your charge, didn’t I?!
Are you obsessed with playing teacher or something?!”
“But still, when I see potential, what can I do?”
“So you just went and picked up some random brat!”
“She’s not just some brat…”
Myeonggon’s fury rose once again at Eunsong’s lame excuse.
“Is that what you call a rebuttal!?”
Myeonggon roared so loudly it shook the room.
Thankfully, this wasn’t in front of the admissions office—or it would’ve become quite the spectacle.
Then, someone knocked on the door.
Thump, thump, thump.
Myeonggon, face flushed red with anger, strode over and flung the door open.
“Who’s the clueless bastard banging on—!”
“Oh my.”
Myeonggon clamped his mouth shut.
Eunsong let out a sigh.
The one who had knocked was an elderly man with a long beard.
“So your master is a clueless bastard, is he? Keh keh keh.”
It was Elder Jeonggang.
Eunsong had lived long enough to know that that keh keh keh was not a laugh from joy.
Myeonggon immediately dropped to his knees.
“I—I have committed a grave offense, Master!”
“I have done no wrong, Grandmaster.”
Eunsong shrugged.
Jeonggang’s eyes gleamed sharply.
Beneath his snow-white brows, his gaze swept over Cheon Soyak.
Cheon Soyak stood tall, with her small, slender frame straightened.
“Hoho…”
Jeonggang kicked Myeonggon aside and stepped forward.
Myeonggon groaned in pain as he rolled on the floor, but Jeonggang didn’t spare him a glance.
His attention was entirely fixed on Cheon Soyak.
“You’re the disciple Eunsong picked up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve got cold eyes, child.”
Cold eyes.
Cheon Soyak accepted the assessment.
She wasn’t so lacking in self-awareness as to deny it.
“To silently watch your master get smacked by the grandmaster—you’re quite the odd girl.”
“Are you referring to me, sir?”
“Sir?”
That curious term of address made Jeonggang glance at Eunsong.
Eunsong sighed and explained the situation:
That she was the only daughter of a branch family of the Hwasan sect, which had been exiled after its head was beheaded for blasphemy.
That she was born under the ominous star, Heaven’s Killing Star.
And that, since Hwasan had yet to officially accept her, she couldn’t call anyone “Master.”
Enough to make Myeonggon froth at the mouth again and collapse in disbelief.
“Master… I don’t know if it’s appropriate for a Taoist to say this, but… I believe we should not accept that child.”
Myeonggon spoke seriously from his seat.
Jeonggang seemed to ponder deeply.
Cheon Soyak watched the three men, then looked at Myeonggon.
“I have something I wish to ask.”
Myeonggon frowned at the intensity of her gaze.
“You want to ask me?”
“Yes.”
“Heh. Go ahead and try.”
“Do you dislike me that much?”
Myeonggon’s eyes widened.
So did Eunsong’s.
Only Jeonggang found this whole situation amusing.
“It’s not that I dislike you. I’m saying you don’t belong in Hwasan.”
“What kind of person does belong in Hwasan?”
Her voice was soft and small.
The voice of a girl, just fourteen, still growing.
“…That is—”
“If one is not born under Heavenly Killing Star, if one’s father is not a criminal—
Are those the only people worthy of entering Hwasan and seeking the Tao?”
Myeonggon couldn’t sense any complaint in her voice.
Only deep, dull resignation.
As if she had never expected to be accepted in the first place.
“I saw and heard many things while standing in that long line at the admissions office.
I know what people think of me.
So please… I’d appreciate it if you would speak honestly.”
Cheon Soyak’s black eyes shone deeply.
“Master Myeonggon, do you dislike me that much?”
What does it mean to enter the Taoist gate and receive a Taoist name?
It means to sever ties with the secular world.
And what does it mean to sever ties with the secular world?
It means to lay down all sins, burdens, honor, and merit.
A person who receives a Taoist name is no longer the same as they were before.
The moment one enters a Taoist sect, the past is erased entirely.
Only the fact that one is a disciple of Mount Hua defines their identity and essence in the Central Plains.
Because of that, the Taoist gate does not judge people by their background or birth.
It was this very point that Cheon Soyak had questioned.
If it wasn’t that he disliked her as a person…
She was asking him to explain on what grounds he was rejecting her.
A chilly wind blew through the open window.
A brief silence followed.
It was broken by Elder Jeonggang.
“There is a condition.”
“Master?”
Myeonggon opened his eyes wide.
Eunsong, however, was smiling.
“Did you say your name is Cheon Soyak?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Can you keep your origin and birth a secret?”
The principle of the Taoist sect.
How nice it would be if that were truly so.
Elder Brother Jeongyang would surely object.
Even if he was the elder brother of the headmaster, he couldn’t ignore the headmaster’s authority.
So, it would be better to hide it.
Before preaching the teachings of the Taoist sect, it is a long-standing unspoken rule of the martial world not to ask about one’s past.
“I will keep it secret.”
“Good. Do you not resent us? Mount Hua did nothing when the Huaeom Sect leader was executed.”
“How could I not resent it?”
“And yet?”
“But I understand that not everything flows as one wishes.”
A strange glint flickered in Elder Jeonggang’s eyes.
“How old are you?”
“I turned fourteen this year.”
“What a disturbing child.”
Rough and intense words.
Cheon Soyak quietly lowered her head.
But Elder Jeonggang’s voice was gentler than ever, and his gaze was soft.
“Your voice is still young, but inside it coils a snake no less cunning than an adult, and your heart is full of rough calluses.”
The old man gently stroked Cheon Soyak’s head.
“Children who grow up the hard way often turn out like this.”
“I won’t deny it.”
“I have taken in many talented disciples so far. Eunsong and Eunjung are examples. Myeonggon is no less talented.”
Elder Jeonggang looked at his disciples and grand-disciples.
Both Myeonggon and Eunsong bowed their heads.
“But you are not a talent.”
Myeonggon tilted his head and asked,
“What do you mean, Master? Then why are we accepting this child…?”
“This child, you say? One who cannot even offer a kind word to a child—how can he call himself a Taoist of Mount Hua?”
“…I apologize.”
“This child is not a talent,”
Elder Jeonggang turned to Eunsong.
A smile spread on Eunsong’s lips.
It was as if Elder Jeonggang had acknowledged his judgment.
“This child is a monster.”
Only Myeonggon couldn’t understand those words.
“She will become Mount Hua’s phoenix. You chose well, Eunsong.”
“I knew Great Elder would recognize her.”
“Hmph…”
Elder Jeonggang’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“So you brought her right away, knowing I wouldn’t turn away a child with such qualities.”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
“I heard you even taught her the ‘Silent Fragrance Step’?”
“That was because Soyak didn’t know any lightness skill…”
“Lies!”
Elder Jeonggang roared.
“You knew plenty of other lightness techniques, but you deliberately taught her Silent Fragrance Step, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“You did it knowing that I’d rather get into a fight with Jeongyang than cripple this child’s martial arts, didn’t you?”
Eunsong fell silent, but his silence was an admission.
Elder Jeonggang glared at him for a while before letting out a deep sigh.
“Sigh… Well. How could I scold you for something like this, when I’ve done the same in the past?”
In the end, he stopped reprimanding Eunsong and lifted Cheon Soyak into his lap, like a grandfather with his grandchild.
Cheon Soyak’s eyes trembled with surprise.
“So. Was the journey here uncomfortable?”
“Why are you suddenly being so kind to me?”
“Shouldn’t I be? I’m the master of your master’s master—your great-great-grandmaster. What kind of elder wouldn’t cherish their great-great-grandchild?”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
Cheon Soyak stared quietly into Elder Jeonggang’s eyes.
“What if someone asks about my past?”
“Then tell them this.”
Elder Jeonggang smiled as he looked at her.
But his words came from the heart.
“To dig up and scrutinize someone’s past is not the work of a true Taoist. If you have entered Mount Hua, then you are a Taoist of Mount Hua, nothing more and nothing less. No explanation or past precedes that.”
His desire for talent—
Cheon Soyak had thought he looked past her birth and background because of that desire.
But that wasn’t it.
This old man was a true Taoist.
Cheon Soyak looked at Elder Jeonggang with her deep, black eyes.
“Mount Hua… is vast.”
“Of course. Mount Hua is vast, indeed.”
I am not remembering their names on top of the usual murim terminology.
I don’t usually ask for much, but it would help if words like ‘Yongbongjihoe’ tournament was localized just like how ‘Amhyangpyo’ was to ‘Silent Fragrance Step’