ROTMHS Special Spin-off - Chapter 1
Chapter 1. Uh, There… (1)
There are such days.
Why wouldn’t there be? A day where your eyes are clearly
open, you aren’t particularly tired, and it’s not like sleep is overtaking you
either, yet you don’t want to so much as twitch a single finger.
The kind of day ordinary people face from time to time, and the
lazy encounter quite often.
But I can say with certainty—
“Is it time for me to die? …No, I already died once, didn’t
I?”
For Cheong Myeong, this phenomenon was extremely rare. It
might even have been the first time in his life encountering it.
Lying on the bed, blinking his eyes, Cheong Myeong lightly
scratched his cheek.
“Doesn’t seem like it’s time to die.”
All that talk about your strength draining when death
approaches—it’s all nonsense.
Huh? How do I know? I’ve died before.
“Then is something hurting?”
Cheong Myeong checked his body here and there.
“…No.”
No matter how he looked, his body was perfectly fine. Of
course, the wounds that damned bishop bastard carved into his body hadn’t fully
healed yet and stabbed at him in dull pulses, but this level couldn’t even be
called an injury. And there’s no way this young body was already sickly and
frail, either.
‘Then not the body… did I overexert mentally?’
A small scoff slipped out of Cheong Myeong.
“Come on, what did I even do…”
At that moment, countless things swept past Cheong Myeong’s
mind.
The ruined Mount Hua Sect.
Zhongnan that stirred up trouble every other day.
That dying old bishop from the Demonic Cult who crawled out
of nowhere.
And that old bald man whose mere face made his blood boil.
“Huff! Huff! Huff! Huff!”
Cheong Myeong dragged in rough breaths, his face flushed
red.
“…..I did do quite a lot.”
Looking back now, it was only natural.
Since being reborn into the body of that damned beggar, when
had he ever properly rested?
Of course, he drank now and then, ran away from Mount Hua to
enjoy brief leisure, and occasionally went off to earn money doing other
things—but no one could deny that he had lived fiercely, doing his utmost.
— A Taoist must, above
all, have a conscience…
“Ah, be quiet.”
Even in his previous life, only his later years were utter
suffering. Before that, it had been a relatively peaceful life. In other words,
this was the first time, across both lives, that he had lived being so crushed
under endless affairs.
No matter how much of an iron human Cheong Myeong was, at
this point, it would be stranger if something didn’t break.
Maybe that’s why?
‘It is about time to rest.’
You rest forever when
you die, so why rest while alive?
…..For someone who used to spit those words like a habit—
For him to be thinking this now.
A person breaks if they don’t rest when they should. Back
during the war, hadn’t he seen more than enough of what happens to those who
ignored that truth?
“Right.”
Cheong Myeong carefully laid his wriggling body back down on
the bed.
There’s a saying: once a cart stops, it takes three times
the strength to move it again.
[tl note: Korean proverb emphasizing that restarting after
stopping requires significantly more effort.]
‘That just means if you try to force a well-stopped cart to
move, you’ll only waste strength.’
Cheong Myeong made his decision.
Today, he would truly rest, without worrying about anything.
Truly do nothing and just rest—
Bang!
With a loud crash, the door burst open, and two familiar
figures appeared.
“No, I’m telling you—there, you have to circulate your
internal energy horizontally!”
“How does it make sense to use a horizontal technique in a vertical
striking sword form? You might as well say jump forward while rolling
backward!”
“That’s exactly why it has meaning! What’s the essence of
the Plum Blossom Sword Art? Illusion! Deceiving and bewildering! When the
opponent thinks, ‘It’s coming down!’—you twist it cleverly and smack the back
of their head! That’s Mount Hua! That’s the Plum Blossom Sword Art!”
“…..Mm. That’s hard to deny, but—”
“It’s about how well you trick them, how well you swindle
them—that’s the essence of Mount Hua swordsmanship!”
— Nooooooooo!
From somewhere far in the heavens, a desperate scream rang
out.
But for those hearing it on the ground, it wasn’t any
different. The sword principles built by Mount Hua’s ancestors with blood and
sweat were being reduced to street swindling tricks.
‘….But it doesn’t seem exactly wrong.’
— I said it’s not, you
bastard!
‘Ah. If you’re upset, then come back to life.’
“What’s so special about sword principles anyway? If you can
beat someone down properly somehow, that’s the correct sword principle.”
“But then the sword won’t carry power. Does it make sense to
lower the force of your own blade just to deceive someone? Where did you even
drag in such a sword principle—one even the unorthodox sects wouldn’t use!”
“A sword principle even the unorthodox wouldn’t use? Then is
that why your side got pierced by it?”
Yoon Jong’s face flushed bright red.
“I—I told you, I was nervous! Who wouldn’t be nervous when
such a ridiculous move comes out in a sparring match!”
“Oh, really? If you get nervous like that twice somewhere,
you’d have lost your head, sahyung.”
“You little—?”
Yoon Jong grabbed Jo Geol by the collar and started shaking
him violently.
“Kehk! Look at him using his fists because words don’t work!
Who’s the unorthodox one here! Who!”
“Shut up! Spouting nonsense—if you say useless things like
that to the sajes, you'll really be in trouble.”
“No, I’m telling you, this is right! This is the correct
method!”
The corners of Cheong Myeong’s eyes grew moist on their own.
Young disciples were holding a debate over how to interpret
a single move. If Cheong Mun had not died and saw this scene, he would have
shed tears, saying, ‘At last, Mount Hua has become a proper sword sect.’
— I told you it’s not,
you madman.
Of course, Cheong Myeong was pleased as well.
Naturally—those brats who used to just yell noisily had now grown into young
men who held swords and yelled noisily. There was no reason not to be pleased.
The problem was—
“No….”
“I’m telling you, horizontal is correct!”
“I said vertical is correct! Can’t you understand words?”
“Um…”
“Seriously, we can’t communicate at all! Want to go another
round?”
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
“Hey! If you tell me in advance what you’re going to use and
I still can’t block it, does that make sense? If we go again, I’ll just get
beaten up!”
“That’s why I’m saying let’s go again!”
“Excuse me?”
“What!”
“What!”
Yoon Jong and Jo Geol, still gripping each other’s collars,
simultaneously shot him a glare with axe-like eyes.
[tl note: “axe-like eyes” (도끼눈) is a Korean idiom describing
a fierce, glaring look with eyes wide and sharp.]
“Th-that is… while it is truly regrettable to interrupt such
a constructive discussion, rare as it is these days…”
“What’s he saying?”
“Did you forget to take your medicine?”
“…..Why are you doing this in my room of all places? You
could just do it at the training ground.”
How far is it from the training ground to here—why drag this
all the way here and cause a scene? These bastards… are sword principles just
an excuse, and they actually came because they don’t like seeing me lying
around?
“What are you saying something so obvious for?”
Yoon Jong looked at Cheong Myeong as if he were the
ridiculous one.
“If we fight among ourselves, there’s no conclusion. But if
you’re here, there is.”
“…..”
“So what do you think? Is horizontal correct? Or vertical?”
A deep sigh leaked out of Cheong Myeong’s mouth.
“…..Before asking me, why don’t you sahyungs come to a
conclusion among yourselves?”
“We were trying! We even asked sasuk!”
“What did he say?”
“Well…”
At that moment, bickering voices came from beyond the open
door.
“You need power when striking down!”
“You’ll get a hole in your side. A fool with only strength.”
“If you strike down properly, you don’t give them room to
counterattack.”
“With that skill level, impossible.”
Baek Cheon and Yoo Iseol entered the room, arguing.
Cheong Myeong stared blankly at the ceiling with hollow
eyes.
‘Their ranks are different, so why are the people no
different?’
Should he be moved by this promising sect that continued
healthy debates beyond rank, or lament the recklessness of these immature fools
stabbing at each other over trivial things?
“So, Cheong Myeong! What do you think?”
“Wouldn’t five hits be about right?”
“Huh? What do you mean five hits?”
The moment Cheong Myeong shot up like lightning, grabbing
his sword, Jo Geol and Yoon Jong clung to him faster than a flash.
“Hey! Is this something to beat people over?”
“Who decides that? Why are you deciding that?”
“Hey, there’s something called common sense! Common sense!”
“Common sense? People with common sense barge into someone
else’s room while he’s resting and make a mess? Even the Demonic Cult bastards
wouldn’t do this!”
“Well, that’s because the Demonic Cult doesn’t know where
your room is.”
“Huh?”
Cheong Myeong flinched. That… actually sounded correct.
“And this isn’t something to get angry about.”
“Why exactly is sahyung deciding that? Shouldn’t I be the
one deciding?”
“Tsk tsk.”
Jo Geol looked at Cheong Myeong with utmost confidence.
“Though the paths may differ, didn’t Confucius say so as
well? Hak-i-bul-sa-jeuk-mang (學而不思則罔), sa-i-bul… (思而不)… sa-i-bul…”
[Tl note: Confucius. Gongja. 공자(孔子). Chinese philosopher. “學而不思則罔,
思而不學則殆” (Hak-i-bul-sa-jeuk-mang, sa-i-bul-hak-jeuk-tae). Meaning: “To
learn without thinking is to gain nothing, and to think without learning leads
to ruin.”]
“Where are you cursing from?!”
“Argh!”
Kicked by Yoon Jong, Jo Geol flared up and turned on him.
“What curse! It’s the words of Master Confucius!”
“Confucius…nim?”
“Yes, Hak-i-bul-sa-jeuk-mang, sa-i-bul… what was it again? I
knew this.”
Jo Geol looked at the other disciples as if frustrated. But
Baek Cheon, Yoon Jong, and Yoo Iseol avoided his gaze the moment the words “Master
Confucius” came up.
“Confucius… right. A good person.”
“I don’t have any personal acquaintance with him.”
“I lost my father early.”
“…..Why is your father coming up here?”
Jo Geol thumped his chest.
“No matter that this is a place where Taoists live,
still—there’s not a single person who knows Master Confucius’s words? Seriously?”
The three of them whistled awkwardly.
“Well, others aside—even sasuk not knowing this, does that
make sense? You’re from a reputable family, aren’t you.”
“Zho—Zhongnan doesn’t teach that. We’re too busy learning
the sword. Why would we learn the words of some Confucius we don’t even have
ties with…”
“Is acquaintance the problem here?!”
Just as Jo Geol was shouting in disbelief at their
ignorance—
“Hak-i-bul-sa-jeuk-mang (學而不思則罔), sa-i-bul-hak-jeuk-tae (思而不學則殆).”
“…..Huh?”
“To learn without thinking is to gain nothing, and to think
without learning leads to ruin.”
“….Huh?”
“Right?”
Everyone’s eyes shook as if an earthquake had struck.
It wasn’t that someone in this ignorant(?) Mount Hua knew
the words of Confucius that shocked them.
What was shocking was that the one who said it was none
other than Cheong Myeong.
“….N-no. How do you know that?”
“Huh?”
Even if a dragon rose before their eyes and heaven and earth
flipped over, they wouldn’t be this shocked.
“Is this truly the end of days?”
“Should we devote ourselves to religion?”
“This is a Taoist temple, you lunatic.”
Jo Geol, having come to his senses, asked again.
“Hey. You’re from a beggar background, right? Then how do you
know this?”
“How would I know? I picked it up somewhere. Do you think I
actually studied it?”
Jo Geol tilted his head.
“Where would you even pick that up? It’s not like you begged
next to a village school.”
At that, the others nodded repeatedly.
“True.”
“….That’s strange.”
“Those ignorant fools who don’t even know Confucius’s words
should keep quiet.”
“K–kheum.”
Cheong Myeong let out a small snort.
‘Why do I know?’
Because he heard it until his ears bled.
It was something most would overlook, but in his previous
life, the two people closest to him were from among the most prestigious of
prestigious families. And his only true friend was also from the Tang Family.
Living his entire life among people half-soaked in ink,
there were things he came to know even if he didn’t want to. Like the words of Confucius
just now.
[tl note: “half-soaked in ink” (먹물에 젖다)
refers to scholars or literati steeped in classical learning.]
“Honestly.”
The four of them—especially Jo Geol—tilted their heads and
stared at Cheong Myeong.
“Isn’t this guy a bit strange? Sometimes he knows really
strange things?”
“It’s not like that’s the only strange thing about him.”
“….Knowing Confucius’s words isn’t that unbelievable.”
“No, it is.”
“Huh?”
“Is Cheong Myeong the type to learn if someone teaches him?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that so! Yet, the fact that he has internalized it
enough to recite what he heard implies that he lived in an environment where
such words came up so frequently that they were practically ingrained in him,
doesn't it?”
“….Huh?”
Jo Geol narrowed his eyes.
“Come to think of it, maybe before becoming a beggar, this
guy was from a really prestigious family? Like, he just doesn’t remember, but
he’s actually a descendant of some great house.”
“Why would a descendant of a great house become a beggar,
you idiot!”
“That can happen. Where was it… something like the Yu Family
of Shandong?”
[Yu Family of Shandong. Sandong Yu-ga. 산동
유가(山東 劉家). A
reputed aristocratic lineage from Shandong.]
“Shandong Yu Family? The one said to have produced prime
ministers for generations? I’ve heard of them too. They’re famous.”
Baek Cheon brightened, as if finally hearing something he
knew, and joined in.
“Yes. That family that’s completely fallen now. If he were a
descendant of a place like that, it would make sense for him to be living as a
beggar.”
“….Right, that part makes sense, but there’s another
problem.”
“Another problem?”
“His personality doesn’t make sense.”
“Ah.”
“No matter how fallen a prestigious family is, if it’s their
bloodline, there should be at least some dignity flowing in it.”
“That’s true.”
“What do you mean ‘that’s true,’ you bastard!”
Cheong Myeong kicked Jo Geol hard in the backside.
“There’s a limit to badmouthing! What? A prestigious
family?”
“….That’s not really an insult, is it?”
“You said a fallen prestigious family descendant! That makes
it an insult!”
“That’s true.”
“Agreed.”
Cheong Myeong’s face twisted viciously.
“To begin with, what Shanxi Yu Family, or whatever Shandong
Yu Family, why drag in some household I’ve never even heard of and talk about
someone else’s ancestors—”
“You’ve never heard of it? The Shandong Yu Family is
extremely famous.”
“You said they completely fell.”
“That’s true, but…”
“Tsk tsk tsk. That’s why they should’ve been careful when
things were going well. Anyway, those so-called prestigious families never
think they might fall. You can bet when they were doing well, they got full of
themselves and went around throwing their weight.”
“You—why are you so twisted?”
“That’s just how the world works. Anyway, Shanxi Yu Family…
Shanxi Yu Family… feels like I’ve heard that somewhere. A Yu Family in Shanxi.
Completely fallen…”
Cheong Myeong’s head snapped to the side at a right angle.
“A Yu Family in Shanxi?”
“Not Shanxi, it’s Shandong.”
Shandong Yu Family? It really sounds familiar. Shandong Yu Family…
Shandong… that Shandong…
“….Huh?”
— Huh?
Cheong Myeong stared blankly at Jo Geol.
“Uh, there…”
In his mind, the face of someone smiling brightly surfaced.
Haha. My home? It’s the Yu Family in Shandong. In the
secular world, it’s quite a well-known house.
Uh…
Jangmun sahyung?
They say sahyung’s family has fallen into ruin?
✿ ✿ ✿
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