ROTMHS Special Spin-off - Chapter 8

Chapter 8. This really shouldn’t be happening. (3)

“So. The Mount Hua Divine Dragon has left the sect.”

“Yes.”

An awkward atmosphere lingered between Beop Jeong and Beop Gye.

They had somehow managed to smooth things over with words, but a subtle discomfort—difficult to put into words—refused to fade.

“Leaving at a time like this...”

Beop Jeong continued, deliberately ignoring the feeling.

In truth, this conversation itself was almost laughable. That mere second- generation and third-generation disciples of a single sect had stepped outside their gates—was that really something the abbot of Shaolin, Beop Jeong, should even be speaking of?

And yet, neither Beop Jeong, who spoke the words, nor Beop Gye, who brought the news, thought so at all.

If an ordinary man took a walk outside his village, it would simply be called a walk. But if an emperor stepped outside his palace, it could shake an entire nation.

In other words, even the same act must be judged differently depending on who performs it.

Unpleasant as it was to admit, the weight carried by the names Mount Hua and the Mount Hua Divine Dragon in the current Jianghu had reached a point where it could no longer be ignored—to the extent that Beop Jeong himself had to mention it.

“The destination? Is it impossible to determine it precisely?”

“Well... you know what Mount Hua is like.”

“Yes. That’s true.”

A sigh escaped Beop Jeong’s lips.

Mount Hua was difficult to track. This wasn’t simply because they moved quickly or maintained strict internal secrecy.

The world was vast. Even for a trained martial artist, long journeys were no easy matter. No matter how freely one roamed the land, the moment one left familiar territory, one would inevitably encounter completely unknown places. Such was the breadth of the Central Plains.

And so, ordinarily, the easiest way to travel far was to rely on acquaintances.

A safe place to sleep, a warm meal, and access to information—there was no reason not to choose such a method.

Typically, those who left their sect for distant travel would stay at guest halls of allied sects, or at the very least visit affiliated lay families for lodging, since inns were not everywhere.

[tl note: soggamun. “속가문 (俗家門)” refers to lay families affiliated with a sect, providing logistical support such as lodging and supplies.]

But what of Mount Hua?

“Why is it that Mount Hua’s disciples are so fond of sleeping on bare ground?”

“....Their home terrain is so harsh that as long as it’s flat land, anything seems good to them.”

“Does that even make sense?”

“That’s the only explanation we have....”

This damned sect... No, a sect that had once truly fallen and then revived—because it had once collapsed, it had few connections with other sects.

Lay families? What even were those? If they had such a widespread network, they wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.

Because of that, once these people started moving, even Shaolin’s intelligence network couldn’t trace their route or purpose.

What kind of place was the Jianghu? For those of any renown, it was perfectly normal to stand in the middle of a busy market street in broad daylight and openly declare one’s name, sect, and purpose.

To those accustomed to the Jianghu, Mount Hua was utterly incomprehensible.

What kind of sect roasts whatever game it hunts morning and night, drinks straight from streams, and wanders from mountain to mountain? It wasn’t as if they had buried gold in the mountains or something.

“Are we certain they’re heading this way?”

“Yes. According to informants in Huayin, that much is certain.”

“Hm.”

Beop Jeong let out a low murmur.

“Has there been anything lately that would draw their attention to Henan?”

“No. If there had been, I would have reported it.”

That was the problem. No matter how one thought about it, there was no reason for Mount Hua to head toward Henan right now.

Until now, whenever the Mount Hua Divine Dragon went abroad, there had always been a purpose.

‘Alliances.’

Mount Hua might deny it, but wherever they went, alliances inevitably formed—that much was undeniable.

Thus, it was highly likely that this journey, too, was meant to expand their alliances.

If only the destination weren’t Henan.

‘Nonsense.’

Henan was a region dominated by Shaolin. And if one insisted on adding more names, even Wudang of Hubei and the Namgung Family of Anhui exerted their influence there.

Those who held Henan might as well be said to hold the Jianghu itself. The sects of Henan and Hubei were tightly united around these three powers. Why would such forces ever join hands with a sect from Shaanxi?

Until now, every sect that had allied with Mount Hua had been one ruling only the fringes of the Central Plains. The Tang Family of Sichuan? Its name might be great, but in the end, it was merely the hegemon of Sichuan—far removed from Henan.

In other words, no matter how much Mount Hua had risen in prominence, it was impossible for them to threaten the order of Henan and Hubei that had endured for centuries—unless heaven and earth themselves were overturned.

‘Then it isn’t an attempt to win over another sect.’

Then what, exactly, was the reason?

Beop Jeong knew. If one eliminated everything that was wrong, whatever remained must be the truth—no matter how difficult it was to believe.

“Amitabha.”

Beop Jeong nodded, as if reaching a realization.

“I see.”

“Abbot, do you have some idea what it might be?”

“Hmm.”

“Then should we try tracking them, even now? Since they’re not heading to the outskirts of the Central Plains this time, if we get the Beggar Union to cooperate, we might be able to trace their movements somehow...”

“There’s no need for that. Instead, prepare to receive guests.”

“Pardon? What do you mean, Abbot?”

Beop Jeong smiled faintly.

“Things become difficult only because you think of them as difficult. Didn’t you say they were heading this way?”

“Yes. That is certainly the case, but...”

“Then they must be coming to meet me.”

“....Pardon?”

Beop Gye failed to hide his surprise and looked straight at Beop Jeong. But he quickly realized his lapse and lowered his gaze.

Why would they come to meet Beop Jeong? Meeting him would bring no benefit to either side.

“Mount Hua doesn’t hold favorable feelings toward the main sect right now. And yet they would deliberately...”

“That is a foolish thought. You are underestimating Mount Hua.”

“Underestimating... you say?”

“If you truly acknowledged them, you wouldn’t say such a thing. Leading a sect and building power—do you think that can be done on emotion alone?”

“That is certainly not the case.”

Only then did Beop Gye understand what Beop Jeong was getting at.

Yes. That was not something that could be done on emotion alone.

“If they’ve realized that by now, then it wouldn’t be strange for them to seek to repair relations with the main sect. Further straining ties with the main sect would be the last thing they would want.”

“....That is true.”

Beop Gye nodded slightly.

This was orthodox reasoning. In this world, there was no such thing as a sect that maintained bad relations with Shaolin. Any such sect had long since been crushed.

To oppose Shaolin in the current age was unthinkable. That was common sense. That was reality.

In that sense, there was nothing wrong with what Beop Jeong was saying. If anything, he had correctly grasped what Beop Gye had overlooked.

‘That should be right...’

And yet, an indescribable unease lingered.

Beop Gye tried to recall the image of one particular person.

“Hmm...”

Why was it that he simply couldn’t picture that man lowering his head? He could picture him seeming to bow—only to slam his head forward instead...

“Since that is the case, make sure there is no shortcoming in receiving our guests. Are they not honored visitors?”

“......”

“Are you listening?”

“...Yes, Abbot.”

But Beop Gye could say nothing more.

It was hard to raise any objection when Beop Jeong seemed to be in such high spirits.

“Then I will take my leave.”

“Very well.”

Beop Gye left the room, still unable to shake off his unease.

“Heh heh. It was bound to come to this in the end. They were not so foolish after all.”

Behind him, Beop Jeong’s voice, unable to hide its satisfaction, rang softly.

‘This feels ominous.’

For some reason, the image of that grotesque statue—with the carving knife embedded in its face—kept coming back to him, like a sign of ill fortune.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Ah, right. Cheong Myeong-ah.”

“Hngh? What?”

“Come to think of it, haven’t we already passed Mount Song?”

“So?”

“The sect leader told us to pass along his regards to the abbot. Don’t you remember?”

“Did he?”

“I’m telling you, he did.”

“Then why are you only saying that now?”

“I forgot too.”

“......”

“......”

“Let’s just go.”

“Yeah.”

And just like that, Beop Jeong’s expectations were ignored in the span of three breaths.

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