Return of the Mount Hua Sect Chapter 2: What The Hell Is This Situation? (2)

Gu Chil scrutinized Chung Myung.

He detected the impact was more severe than usual. Although Wang Cho's actions were typically overzealous, his assault on Chung Myung today seemed intended to impart a harsh lesson. Even a stray dog wouldn't endure such a beating. The individuals who usually intervened to halt such rampages remained passive, witnessing Wang Cho's complete dominance over Chung Myung. Gu Chil wasn't taken aback by this lack of interference.

“So, you’re implying… I’m a beggar?”

A beggar questioning if he was a beggar? What sort of delirium was this? Gu Chil was convinced… this individual had veered into strangeness. No, he had transformed into something disturbingly peculiar.

He typically neglected his duties, thus Gu Chil understood that one day, a severe thrashing was inevitable—it was mere misfortune that this day had arrived. This was the unyielding principle of the Beggars' Union: If you fail to procure sustenance through your own efforts, you face a canine's demise, starvation, or a brutal beating.

Under normal circumstances, individuals would regain their senses after such a punishment. Normally. Instead, the precise opposite was unfolding before Gu Chil's eyes.

“Is this actually happening? Am I truly residing in such a state? It cannot be real.”

“…Are you lacking sight, or perhaps comprehension?”

“Huh?”

“A glance at your attire should provide the answer.”

Chung Myung averted his gaze, observing the assortment of worn fabrics and discarded rags. What should have been conventional attire was, in fact… tatters. Any ordinary person would acknowledge the reality and resume their tasks, but not Chung Myung.

“Do I not possess a name, or some designation?”

“Since when have beggars been allocated names?” Gu Chil emitted a sigh. “Merely a common one. You are designated Cho Sam.”

“…It bears the unmistakable sound of a beggar’s label.” Observe, even his appellation reflected impoverishment. “To be a beggar. This particular variety of beggar…”

The other beggar regarded him with a vacant stare.

“And my age—am I approximately sixteen?”

“Since when have beggars maintained records of their years?”

“That holds a certain validity.”—Unlike all other aspects. Every element of Cho Sam’s being had undergone a transformation, from his vocalizations to his physical conduct. Furthermore, he seemed utterly unaware of his surroundings. This was far too profound to be attributed solely to a concussion.

“Then, what is the current year?”

“…Beggars mark the passage of days. Have you ever encountered a beggar who meticulously tracked the years?”

“It sounds entirely consistent with a true beggar.”

Gu Chil rubbed his eyes. The existence of a beggar was perpetually arduous and fraught with anxiety, yet this situation surpassed all previous ordeals by a considerable margin.

“Then, I have a singular additional inquiry.”

“…You have been posing questions for some time now.”

“Do you possess knowledge of the Heavenly Demon?”

“You were also muttering about the Heavenly Demon earlier. What prompts this sudden quest for his identity?”

“Respond to my query first.”

“Naturally, I am acquainted with him. His renown is widespread. He presided as the leader of the Heavenly Demon Sect, who suffered defeat a century prior.”

“What?”

“Master—”

Cho Sam propelled himself forward, seizing Gu Chil by the lapels of his garment.

“A hundred years have elapsed since the Heavenly Demon met his end? ONE HUNDRED YEARS? Does this truly signify that a century has passed since that event? A centurrrrrry?”

“…Indeed, that is the case.” It appears Cho Sam sustained a particularly forceful impact.

“Disclose the unvarnished truth; do not entertain the notion of deception.”

“What benefit could possibly be derived from misleading you?” Gu Chil dislodged Cho Sam’s grasp. Swiftly, Cho Sam’s now-unencumbered hands began to vigorously scratch at his scalp.

No alternative explanation presented itself upon observing this reaction. He was not merely disoriented or unsettled by the physical assault—his faculties appeared to have completely fractured. Gu Chil had never before witnessed such a complex tapestry of “distress” conveyed through a person’s countenance.

“A century, you state?”

“Would you prefer I reiterate the information?”

“…I must return.”

Chung Myung tilted his head towards the heavens. He had harbored a mistaken belief that the sight of the serene azure sky would offer some solace, yet all that met his vision was the somber fabric ceiling of the tent. It was as dark and oppressive as Chung Myung’s own brooding mood.

“A hundred years have transpired since that time?”

Gu Chil’s patience snapped.

“It is not as though you have attained great age, so why persist in repeating the same declaration!? It has been a hundred momentous years! The various Sects engaged in a monumental conflict with the Heavenly Demon atop the formidable Hundred Thousand Mountains and exacted his life! Precisely! It transpired a century ago!”

“…I comprehend.” This accounted for his profound melancholic state.

The individual who had subdued Chung Myung earlier seemed to occupy a position of considerable standing. From that perspective, the person now before him could also be considered of a higher rank than Cho Sam.

Within the Beggars' Union, was it? Regrettably, it represented no auspicious affiliation—it was virtually insurmountable for the Beggars' Union to adequately provide sustenance and shelter for all its members. It was rumored that the Union extended its embrace to all destitute individuals, yet its financial resources were inherently constrained.

The majority within the Beggars' Union comprised common vagrants. Those in higher positions assigned them numerical identifiers in lieu of names, and their garments were devoid of any knots. Wandering the thoroughfares, these mendicants often possessed a more acute understanding of the events transpiring within the martial arts world than any dedicated practitioner. Gu Chil’s pronouncements carried a degree of credibility.

“Hah. Utterly baffling. A century has passed, you say.” Everything must have undergone transformation—now, the sole task was to reconcile himself to having been reborn into the frame of another youth.

A century had passed; surely, every soul acquainted with Chung Myung had long since turned to dust. Moreover, the very individuals he'd once known had met their end upon that desolate, unforgiving peak.

He was utterly, completely alone.

“Halt! The Mount Hua Sect…!?”

When Cho Sam abruptly scrambled to his feet, bellowing at him, Gu Chil no longer registered surprise.

“What became of the Mount Hua Sect? Speak!”

“What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

“The Mount Hua Sect! What transpired?”

“Mount Hua?”

“Indeed!”

“And what is this Mount Hua you speak of?”

“…What?” Chung Myung stared, dumbfounded. He was unaware of Mount Hua? Even a beggar wouldn't be ignorant of it?

“Come now, cease this jesting. What is the current standing of the Mount Hua Sect?”

“Mount Hua Sect?” Gu Chil tilted his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

He genuinely didn't know? Could it be true? About the Mount Hua Sect?

“Th-the… one of the Nine Great Sects… You claim ignorance of the Mount Hua Sect? Hah, you…”

“Part of the Nine Great Sects? What preposterous fabrication is this? The Mount Hua Sect is not among the Nine Great Sects.”

“…It is not?”

“The Shaolin Temple, the Wudang Clan, the Diancang Sect, the Qingcheng Sect, the Kongtong Sect, the Southern Island Sect, the Emei Sect, the Southern Edge Sect, the Kunlun Sect, and the Beggars Union. There are ten now.”

“S-so the Southern Island Sect? Those worthless scoundrels are counted among the Ten Great Sects? Ah—no, that triviality aside. Then the Mount Hua Sect is not included?”

Gu Chil let out a weary sigh. Cho Sam possessed an uncanny ability to hear only what pleased him, regardless of the speaker’s intent. Gu Chil’s forbearance was rapidly depleting.

“The Mo-Mount Hua Sect is not a constituent of the Great Sects? No, that might be conceivable. However, you—you profess no knowledge of the Mount Hua Sect? Even a fallen magnate retains their influence for a span; a mere beggar, however, should surely possess awareness of the Mount Hua Sect?”

The descriptor ‘beggar’ hardly encapsulated the gravity of his statement. Indeed, starvation was a tangible threat.

“Does this even remotely resemble logic?” Chung Myung seized Gu Chil by the shoulders, shaking him with palpable agitation. “Does any part of this make sense? You truly have no recollection of Mount Hua? Mount Hua? The Mount Hua Sect?”

“…Mount Hua.” Gu Chil felt a throbbing headache commence.

“Precisely! Mount Hua!”

“Now that you mention it,” Gu Chil mused, tilting his head once more, “I do recall hearing mention of such a sect nestled within the Shaanxi province.”

“Yes! That is correct! Mount Hua, located in Shaanxi!” Chung Myung’s eyes widened with renewed intensity.

“From what I understand, its fortunes have dwindled to nothing.”

“What?” Chung Myung’s heart lurched violently.

“Whether it was ever counted among the Great Sects, I cannot say, but I have heard tales of its elite members falling during the conflict with the Heavenly Demon. My knowledge is imprecise—for definitive answers, you must consult others.”

What could this possibly imply? Had the Mount Hua Sect truly collapsed? Mount Hua? The esteemed Mount Hua Sect?

“This mendicant, peddling falsehoods!”

Gu Chil’s gaze drifted upwards. To his profound annoyance, Chung Myung resorted to abuse even when presented with the unvarnished truth. This recurring pattern was precisely why Gu Chil found assisting others so exasperating.

“Impossible! I refuse to accept such a notion!” Chung Myung forcefully shoved Gu Chil aside, his feet finding purchase as he sprang to his feet. “I must journey there and ascertain the truth with my own eyes!”

“Hah!” Gu Chil’s voice boomed after his retreating figure. “Fail to return by supper, and Wang Cho will enact his retribution upon you most assuredly this time! Cease these superfluous pursuits and return to your labors!”

Yet, Cho Sam had already departed.

“…What on earth does that insubordinate wretch intend to do now?” Gu Chil shook his head, utterly bewildered by the abrupt alteration in his demeanor.

“…Hmm.” Was this the countenance of a merchant utterly ruined? It certainly bore a striking resemblance to Chung Myung’s expression.

Upon further reflection, with the disciples of Mount Hua having been decimated in the arduous battle against the Heavenly Demon, a decline in their standing was an unavoidable consequence. During such a period of weakness, they could conceivably have been supplanted from the ranks of the Great Sects. But despite his most strenuous efforts to rationalize it, how could Mount Hua have been ousted, and the Beggars Union ascended to the Great Sects’ echelon within a mere century!? Did such a scenario hold any logical foundation? How could the destitute, lacking any martial arts prowess, be incorporated…?

For reasons unknown to him, the beggar with whom he had conversed remained ignorant, compelling Chung Myung to seek out others. Yet, whomsoever he accosted, the outcome remained consistently identical.

Ah, perhaps not for the very last person.

Not a soul possessed any knowledge. Not a single individual knew.

“This defies all reason!” How could the Mount Hua Sect have descended to such a state? While numerous martial sects might achieve fame, none could rival the renown of the Mount Hua Sect. To suggest that every preeminent swordsman hailed from Mount Hua might be a slight overstatement. Nevertheless, no one would dispute its position among the triumvirate of most celebrated sects, alongside Woodang and Namgung.

Yet, people were unaware of its very existence?

“Argh…”

At the very least, a single response offered a sliver of confirmation.

Utterly ruined? The Mount Hua Sect?

“What manner of absurd fabrication was he uttering?” It would be far more plausible to claim the Imperial palace had been razed and the Emperor forced into exile.

The Mount Hua Sect has fallen! Mount Hua Sect!

Chung Myung vividly recalled the peculiar expression that had graced Sahyung Jang Mun’s face in his final moments. Were he to hear this news now, he would undoubtedly vomit blood and perish anew.

“No, absolutely not!” Chung Myung surged from his seat with renewed urgency. “I must witness this with my own eyes!”

For countless generations, the Mount Hua Sect had endured, regardless of its dire condition. It was a sight he felt compelled to witness.

“I will head to Mount Hua!” His azure eyes ignited with fervent determination.

This very instant marked the genesis of a colossal storm, stirred by the flutter of a butterfly's wings.