Chapter 14

The next day.

“Jinmu.”

“…Huh?”

What had gotten into his master?

Myeongjin, who ordinarily said nothing until breakfast, was stepping out of his room, neatly dressed in the Taoist robe he usually left hanging unworn.

“What is it, Master?”

“I must go to Purple Firmament Palace.”

“…”

For a moment, Jinmu couldn’t understand what Myeongjin was doing.

It was dawn, and the wind was cold.

After all the trouble he’d taken to keep the bastard alive, if a chill made him ill again, Jinmu would be the one doing all the work.

“With the wind this cold?”

“I’ve dressed warmly. I’ll be fine. Come along.”

Had something good happened to this bastard? Why did he keep grinning?

Jinmu wasn’t pleased, but he hadn’t forgotten how many eyes were watching. He dutifully supported Myeongjin as they made their way toward Purple Firmament Palace.

---

The fifth day of every month.

Wudang held its regular elders’ meeting under the sect leader’s direction.

They discussed events planned for the coming month and the sect’s internal and external affairs, followed by the disciples’ training.

Thus, everyone attended—not only the elders, but also the first-generation disciples responsible for each palace’s business.

His master Myeongjin had no palace under his charge and, until recently, had remained secluded in his hermitage, so he had not been attending these meetings.

Naturally, this was Jinmu’s first elders’ meeting as well.

“Oh! Martial Uncle!”

Jinheo, now recovered from his injuries, was on his way to Purple Firmament Palace when he spotted Myeongjin and approached with a warm greeting.

“Oh, Jinheo. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes. I’m sorry I haven’t visited you more often.”

“No, no. It’s quite all right. Tell me, have you made any progress lately?”

“Progress?”

Jinheo glanced at Jinmu, who was supporting Myeongjin, and grinned.

“Your disciple has given me quite an eye-opening experience recently.”

“Ah, I heard. Jinmu went a little too far, didn’t he?”

“Too far? It’s cleared my head wonderfully. I couldn’t ask for a better junior brother. Isn’t that right?”

Jinheo gave Jinmu a nudge in the ribs.

What did this bastard have to grin about after getting beaten half to death…?

Jinmu managed an awkward smile.

“Now, let’s go inside.”

“Yes. Allow me to help you.”

“Of course, of course.”

As Myeongjin climbed the steps of Purple Firmament Palace with Jinmu and Jinheo supporting him, everyone bowed with startled expressions.

Every one of them was deeply deferential, their eyes filled with respect.

What’s with this reception? Wasn’t he just an old man they’d tucked away in a back room?

Until now, Jinmu had thought of Myeongjin as nothing more than a useless, sickly Taoist.

Wudang’s disciples felt differently.

Myeongjin.

He was one of the most respected Taoists in Wudang today.

Before losing his martial powers, he had been a promising talent, considered alongside Myeonghyeon a leading candidate to become the next sect leader.

He had fought the Lord of Sapacheon to the very end, protecting the disciples. He embodied Wudang’s spirit of resistance and stood as its symbol.

The sect leader and elders had pooled their strength to save Jinmu as he hovered near death after falling from the cliff precisely because he was the acolyte who had worked so hard to keep Myeongjin alive.

Of course, to Jinmu, he had once been an insolent Taoist who hadn’t known his place and dared to attack him. Now he was merely an even more useless burden.

“Good heavens! What brings you here?”

Someone must have informed them, for the sect leader and elders hurried out, their faces bright with welcome.

There were so few of these martial brothers left.

The rest of the Myeong generation had all died. Only the current sect leader, the elders, and Jinmu’s master Myeongjin remained.

“Ho ho. I can hardly stay in Chungheo Hermitage forever.”

“Still, you must think of your health.”

“I’m quite all right, Sect Leader.”

“Sect Leader, indeed! Call me Senior Brother, you rascal.”

Myeonghyeon sent Jinheo aside and took Myeongjin’s arm himself.

“Jinheo. Go and have them bring in a brazier for your martial uncle.”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

Myeonghyeon attended to every detail, worried that his ailing junior brother might feel the cold.

“But are you sure you should be coming this far?”

“I’m fine. Thanks to this disciple of mine, I’ve recently recovered enough strength to move about without difficulty.”

“Have you?”

Myeonghyeon recalled what had happened not long ago.

Eating meat, which Wudang had forbidden.

It seemed to have helped.

Lifting the prohibition on meat was the right decision after all.

Once again, Myeonghyeon regretted how their stubborn adherence to the precepts had kept his junior brother from recovering his health.

He also felt all the more proud of Jinmu, who must have worked so hard to get Myeongjin well enough to venture outside.

“It’s cold. Let’s get you in.”

Once Myeongjin had taken a seat near the sect leader, the elders’ meeting began.

Naturally, the subject was the silver ingots left by the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.

Their empty coffers had kept them from doing so much for so long. Now that they suddenly had money to spare, every palace wanted any number of things, and the meeting dragged on.

“Then that is what we shall do.”

After nearly four hours, they finally reached a compromise and the meeting drew to a close. Myeonghyeon stole a glance at Myeongjin.

He was worried that the lengthy discussion might have been too much for his frail junior brother.

“Sect Leader.”

“Hmm? What is it? Is there something you wish to say?”

“Yes. Concerning the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.”

“Oh! Please, go ahead.”

Myeongjin had remained silent throughout the meeting. Now that he spoke, the sect leader and all the elders listened closely.

“It is good that we have formed ties with the Cheongyang Merchant Guild, but I must admit I have concerns.”

“Concerns…? Why is that?”

“Though Jinhye introduced them to us, I do not believe it right to spend their money freely without knowing precisely where it came from or their intentions in giving it.”

Standing behind Myeonggong, Jinhye’s brow creased slightly.

“Ahem.”

But the point was a reasonable one, and the sect leader and elders all nodded.

“That is true.”

“I was thinking we might send some disciples to stay with them.”

Huh? Could he mean…?

Jinmu’s eyes suddenly lit up. Until now, the meeting had bored him senseless.

“Disciples?”

“Yes. They could discreetly observe the guild while ostensibly offering their assistance.”

Myeongjin looked toward Myeonggong, who oversaw the precepts.

“Hmm. Myeongjin has a point. There is a precedent for sending first-generation disciples as guest retainers to merchant guilds with which we have long-standing ties…”

“True enough. But what do we hope to accomplish by sending disciples? They might take offense and think we are keeping them under surveillance.”

At Myeonghyeon’s worried expression, Myeongjin smiled faintly and shook his head.

“Surely not. They may employ guards, but those guards plainly cannot compare to Wudang’s disciples. If we simply say our disciples wish to stay a while as guest retainers, I imagine they would welcome them.”

“Guest retainers…”

Myeonghyeon considered for a moment, then nodded.

“It seems a sound idea. What do you all think?”

“I agree. From what I saw of his character the other day, he seems unlikely to ask for help even if he needs it.”

“I agree as well.”

Without any particular objections, the elders lent their support to Myeongjin’s proposal.

Only then did Jinmu understand why Myeongjin had come to the elders’ meeting so early that morning.

Ha! Would you look at that?

He’d thought that idiot Cheongu was the only useful one. But Myeongjin too? Keeping him alive a little longer had been worth the trouble!

“Since everyone appears to agree, let us do so. Now, whom should we send? An elder would be excessive, and the Cheong generation is not yet ready. It must be one of the first-generation disciples.”

At Myeonghyeon’s words, the elders and first-generation disciples began murmuring among themselves, discussing whom to send.

Jinhye, who had been watching everything from the back, was about to speak to his master Myeonggong when Myeongjin beat him to it.

“Why deliberate? We have Jinmu.”

“Jinmu?”

As every gaze in the room settled on Jinmu, Jinhye’s brow visibly contorted.

You little bastard. My master’s right about every last thing, and you have the nerve to glare? Shall I gouge out your eyes for insulting your masters and disgracing your martial ancestors?

Looking Jinhye straight in the eye, Jinmu sneaked him a mocking smile.

That little bastard…

Jinhye’s expression soured further at that infuriating look. He had worked so long and hard to lay this table, and now Jinmu was sidling up with a spoon. The sight of him was unbearable.

“Martial Uncle Myeongjin is quite right. The other first-generation disciples have many duties to attend to in their respective palaces. Let us send Jinmu.”

Jinheo added his support to Myeongjin’s proposal.

You bastard. You’re a good sort, aren’t you?

If I’d known, I’d have gone a little easier on you that day…

A problem he had agonized over was suddenly resolving itself without a hitch.

“Hmm. I agree as well. Jinmu is already acquainted with the Cheongyang guildmaster, and he seemed quite interested.”

When even his own master Myeonggong joined in, Jinhye’s face turned black as thunder.

“He is acquainted with the Cheongyang guildmaster?”

“Yes. I shall report on that separately, Sect Leader.”

At Myeonggong’s reply, Myeonghyeon nodded and turned to Jinmu.

“Since we are all in agreement, Jinmu, I must ask you to take on this task. Return to Chungheo Hermitage and make your preparations.”

“Yes.”

Jinmu cheered inwardly.

Raise one Taoist right and you won’t envy a man with ten unorthodox followers… Heh heh heh. What a windfall!

---

“Senior Brother! Are you simply going to let this happen?”

Jinhye’s voice filled the room.

“Hmm.”

Under Jinhye’s pointed gaze, Jingung frowned.

Jingung was the second of the Seven of Wudang and the disciple in charge of Ujin Palace, which handled Wudang’s affairs outside the sect.

Apart from Jinmyeong, who was away, he was the oldest of Wudang’s current disciples.

After the elders’ meeting, the first-generation disciples had gathered to discuss practical matters. Jinhye had brought up the issue of Jinmu.

“Think about it. He is still being disciplined for breaking the precepts. And now we’re letting him travel outside?”

Jingung and the other first-generation disciples nodded in agreement.

“You are not wrong, but hasn’t the elders’ meeting already decided the matter?”

At these words from Jinso, an enormously built disciple of Jeongdong Palace, Jinhye looked incredulous.

“Senior Brother. The elders’ meeting is not always right. Sometimes it can be wrong.”

“Enough! Watch your words, Jinhye.”

Frowning, Jingung cautioned him for so openly voicing distrust of the elders.

“But nothing I said was wrong, was it? Don’t you know? He’s luring the disciples into eating meat.”

“…”

“He ought to be facing further punishment.”

“Even so, the elders’ meeting…”

“Don’t be so exasperating, Senior Brother Jinso.”

“Now, see here.”

“He was an acolyte. A lowborn wretch, the son of slash-and-burn farmers. Don’t you understand? The sect leader and elders are blinded by Martial Uncle Myeongjin’s reputation, and that is why they recognize him. Are you just going to let him carry on?”

“Hmm…”

“Surely you don’t intend to end up like a dog that’s let the chicken it was chasing get away?”

He was speaking contemptuously of a fellow disciple, but he wasn’t wrong.

Jinhye had a point.

The first-generation disciples of each palace had been carefully selected.

Born into families of some standing, they had received their Taoist names at Wudang with lofty ambitions, competing honorably to become the head disciple who would lead the next generation.

That was why, when Jinmu had committed his three offenses and been assigned to repair Haegeomji—

Everyone present except Jinheo had agreed that no martial artists would be assigned to help him.

“I cannot understand the elders’ decision. To give this to a wretch who is destroying Wudang’s long-standing traditions…”

As Jinhye poured out his impassioned protest, someone flung the door open.

“You really do get worked up over the most pointless things.”

The person who entered was Jinheo of Wonhwa Hall.