Chapter Text
“Dosa-hyung!” Dangbo greeted, fearlessly throwing open the gates of Mount Hua. “You wouldn’t believe the rumors spreading throughout Kangho these days. Some people are saying that Mount Hua disciples from the future have come back in time! It’s hilarious! Do you think… huh?”
He trailed off, finally taking note of the position his Hyung was in — as well as the person with him.
‘A fight?’ he wondered, tilting his head. ‘No… maybe training?’
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint stood with a fist raised to punch, his other hand holding onto the collar of a youth no older than 20. The newcomer had responded in kind. His hands were tangled in CheongMyeong’s hair and his leg was pulled back, prepared to kick.
Now, both CheongMyeong and the youth stared at Dangbo, frozen in place. Dangbo tilted his head.
‘The elder of another sect?’ he wondered. ‘He had quite a bit of qi, but… he looks far too young for that.’
There wasn’t even a hint of grey in his hair. In addition, Dangbo didn’t recognize him at all.
The uniform of the Mount Hua sect draped comfortably over the boy’s shoulders, containing all the wear and tear of uniforms worn for months at a time.
Then… had CheongMyeong gotten into a fight with one of his juniors?
On a surface-level inspection, that explanation made sense. It wasn’t exactly rare for Mount Hua’s mad dog to fight someone. The youth, as one of said-dog’s victims, also looked pretty normal; bruises, bumps, and scratches covered the child from head to toe. He had a split lip and a ragged uniform, which was covered in dust from the kid being rolled on the ground. If there was anything physically of note, it would be the complete absence of fear in the boy’s gaze. For all the injuries the child had sustained, his eyes, directed at Dangbo, showed shock rather than relief.
And, as for Geomjon…
‘Is… that a bump on his head?!’
There, right on the back of his head, was a single, large bump left over from a harsh impact shortly before. CheongMyeong was clearly, obviously, the less injured of the two. As always. Dangbo had never seen CheongMyeong get so much as bruised in a fight before. Even Dangbo’s own techniques had failed to scratch him. It was almost-
“Bo-ya?”
Dangbo paused, refocusing on the present. The name he had just been called was familiar.
The speaker was not.
“Hm?” Dangbo asked, directing his gaze to the newcomer by CheongMyeong’s side. The stranger flinched as soon as they made eye contact, looking away a moment later.
“Dangbo,” CheongMyeong greeted, letting go of the youth at last. The boy fell to the ground with an unceremonious plop, but CheongMyeong paid him no mind. He stood up straighter, frowning and looking Dangbo over. Dangbo sent him an award-worthy smile.
“Hyung, I-”
“I thought you were going back to your family for another three days,” CheongMyeong interrupted, his gaze still containing traces of concern.
“That was the plan,” Dangbo confirmed. “Then I heard an interesting rumor and came back to tell you about it!”
(A shameless, childish admission from the elder of a great family. No one present batted an eye.)
“Anyways, what’s going on here?” Dangbo asked, scanning between the two of them. The pristine marble training grounds looked cracked and ruined beyond repair.
CheongMyeong growled, pointing down at the child to shout, “I don’t know! Little bastard attacked me out of nowhere! We were in the middle of a conversation and then he-”
“Out of nowhere?!” the youth interrupted. “After what you said about Sa — about the Sect Leader, I had no choice!”
“Huh?! Who do you think you are, trying to discipline me?!”
“Are you out of your mind?! What do you think gives you the right to talk about your own sect leader that way?! Someone too busy drinking to use their brain shouldn’t-”
“You drank more than me yesterday!”
Although CheongMyeong’s voice was slightly deeper than the newcomer’s, their near-identical tones and phrasing made it hard to tell who had said what. The two blended together, even their expressions seeming interchangeable.
Dangbo looked between them once more, his eyes narrowing. He took in the traits of the newcomer one by one.
Pink eyes — a shade Dangbo had only ever seen on CheongMyeong — were glaring up at the Plum Blossom Sword Saint.
Messy hair — displaying a wildness no self-respecting Taoist would ever show — held up by a thin green ribbon.
His abundant qi showed the wealth with which he’d been raised.
The purity of it displayed the quality of teaching he had received.
The youth of the boy was clear.
The child was dressed as a disciple of Mount Hua.
The brat had managed to land a hit on Geomjon.
And those eyes…
Something clicked into place. Abruptly, Dangbo realized what was going on.
“Dosa-nim,” he muttered, bringing his hand to his mouth in a soft gasp. “You… you have a son?!”
“WHAT?!” the two shouted back, their appalled expressions matching each other to a tee.
Dangbo sobbed silently, delicately patting the two sets of bumps on his head. Mini-CheongMyeong didn’t hit quite as hard as Dangbo’s Hyung-nim did, but his hits seemed to land with an even greater level of precision. Amjon now had a three-layered snowman of bumps on his scalp, put there when he was already dazed from the Plum Blossom Sword Saint’s attack.
CheongMyeong scoffed, lacking any sympathy for his friend. The man’s ridiculous suggestion warranted that and more. Both CheongMun and CheongJin at least had the sense to whisper that theory in private; for Dangbo to just say it outright was more than CheongMyeong could handle. Why did everyone in his life think he had a secret lover?!
He had been much taller than the kid when he was eighteen. Obviously they weren’t related.
(Though, given that the two of them didn’t know anything about their parents, even that was technically just an assumption.)
Anyways-
“Those rumors you heard were, for once, more accurate than you,” CheongMyeong announced. “We’ve come across six disciples from the future. They were scattered around Mount Hua, apparently ‘appearing out of thin air’ a week ago.”
The pained look on Dangbo’s face disappeared, immediately replaced with a look of heavy skepticism. He raised one eyebrow at CheongMyeong, seemingly trying to figure out whether or not he was supposed to laugh.
“I’m serious,” CheongMyeong insisted. “Look — we didn’t believe it at first either! I thought they were either over-enthusiastic fans or bandits.”
The child by CheongMyeong’s side quickly scowled in offense, looking highly tempted to protest. CheongMyeong paid him no mind.
“They got into a scuffle with some Sapa bastards and ended up 120 years from where they’re supposed to be. Sahyung agreed to house them while they’re here since they’re technically our descendants. We’re stuck with them until then.”
“The artifact will run out of power in a month or so,” the child interrupted. “Those need to be charged with qi before use. From what I saw, it won’t be able to last too long. We’ll be gone soon.”
CheongMyeong gave a light shrug at that, adding, “They did a synchronized display of the Seven Blossom Blades the first day they were here. That was enough for Sahyung to agree to shelter the kids temporarily.”
(Though, privately, CheongMyeong thought the physical resemblance between him and the youngest brat might have played a part too.)
Talented though the children were, CheongMyeong was confident he could subdue them if it came to that. It didn’t hurt Mount Hua to take them in. It was accepted without complaint by the actual members of the sect. They had settled in rather easily.
(Besides, the disciples’ time at the sect had brought about even more proof of their story. Sect secrets, geographic knowledge, and their general comfort in Mount Hua had been convincing elders one by one.)
(And, in regards to the youngest-)
“Lift up your arm,” Dangbo instructed, snapping CheongMyeong out of his thoughts. He looked over, lifting his left arm a little, only to realize belatedly that Dangbo hadn’t been speaking to him. The future-child beside CheongMyeong looked just as surprised, hesitating for a few seconds before he complied. Then, with skillful hands, Dangbo began to disinfect and wrap the cuts bit by bit.
(The bump on CheongMyeong’s head would heal before an hour was up. Dangbo’s Hyung never needed much treatment anyway. The young boy CheongMyeong had fought would obviously be the first person for Dangbo to help.)
He reached forward, pressing two fingers against the child’s wrist. His qi began flowing in. For a brief moment, CheongMyeong saw Dangbo’s eyes widen in surprise.
‘Well, that kid’s qi is pure enough to give even me goosebumps,’ CheongMyeong thought. ‘It’s no wonder he was taken aback.’
The first time CheongMyeong had felt it, he’d nearly dropped his sword in surprise.
Most people’s qi could be described as a thin mist circulating throughout their bodies. It was a few drops in some — those who had more potential. Cultivators, on the other hand, would have enough qi to fill their entire body, coalescing together into something more like a stream or river. Dangbo had once described CheongMyeong’s qi as an ocean. The water was so vast and deep that you could never even try to guess how much was inside.
As for the child…
It was a lake. The quantity of qi itself wasn’t impossible to believe — Dangbo, for one, had more. Rather, it was the qi’s purity that made it feel so strange. The lake was completely still, not fluctuating in the slightest. If you looked down into the lake, you could see the rocky bottom with crystal-clear clarity. If you stepped into the lake and walked forward, every stone and pebble and plant inside the water would be visible to you, the sun’s light reaching all the way down. In the sixty years of CheongMyeong’s life so far, he had never felt anything quite like that.
Neither had Dangbo, he was sure.
If a clan’s elder had qi like this, Dangbo would know. A young prodigy with this qi would be even more known. Rumors would spread; people would gossip. Even if they had just brushed past each other once, Dangbo would remember the feel of this person’s energy.
A person was here now who had not — who could not have — existed before.
After hesitating for a moment longer, Dangbo slowly removed his hand from the child’s wrist.
“...Thank you,” the boy said, his gaze awkwardly drifting to the ground. Dangbo smiled at him in response.
“Why is he being so polite with you?” CheongMyeong grumbled from the side. “I’m his ancestor. Shouldn’t I be the one who gets treated like this? Even CheongJin is treated more respectfully than I-”
“And what exactly have you done to deserve being thanked?” the boy muttered, sending a look of annoyance his way. “Ah, Sahyung, is this really what you had to deal with?”
“Hey! Don’t you have any idea who I am?”
The boy opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a shout in the distance.
“WAIT!!!”
The voice was loud and clear. The three cultivators glanced over, waiting for the speaker to approach. Soon, a cavalcade of footsteps could be heard.
“Wait!” someone shouted again. “Wait wait wait wait wait!”
“Stop-!”
“Don’t-!”
“He didn’t mean it! I promise!”
Five children, all dressed as disciples of Mount Hua, approached rapidly. CheongMyeong gave a light sigh. It didn’t take long for them to arrive. The kids quickly gathered around the youngest of their group, panting from fear more than physical exhaustion.
“I apologize for whatever he said!” the group’s leader, a handsome young man wearing a white headband (BaekCheon, if CheongMyeong recalled correctly), declared at once. “I swear, he just doesn’t know better!”
“Huh?!” the boy shouted, indignant. “Know better?! Did you hear what he said-”
“I will be sure to discipline him properly!” the handsome brat continued, bowing low.
Dangbo glanced at CheongMyeong, his gaze questioning.
“These are the other brats from the future,” CheongMyeong announced, gesturing toward them carelessly. “The ones we’ve found so far, at least. The youngest brat thinks there might be more people somewhere else.”
“Hoh?” Dangbo muttered, glancing over at the still-bowing children. “They’re pretty powerful, considering their ages.”
(As far as immediate reactions went, that was astonishingly tame. The eldest child was as strong as an elder from one of the great sects. The weakest of the kids was more than powerful enough to beat someone twice her age. Cheongjin, for one, had cried tears of happiness the night the kids arrived, sobbing about how his record-keeping of Mount Hua’s martial arts had truly paid off. Only Geomjon and Amjon would be able to observe them without gaping openly.)
CheongMyeong just gave a light shrug in response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Dangbo’s assessment.
(The youngest, who CheongMyeong had fought, was talented enough to defy common sense. Even CheongMyeong wasn’t sure how to describe him just yet. He would have to watch for a bit longer before he could make any claims.)
“Are you crazy?!”
CheongMyeong and Dangbo both looked up, well-accustomed to those words being thrown at them. However, the recipient this time appeared to be the youngest of the future-disciples, who stared back at the speaker unrepentantly.
“He must be insane-”
“I can’t believe-”
“Of all the things to do-”
“They could kick us out for causing trouble!”
“What will the sect leader think-”
“You’re all making this a bigger deal than it is,” the child protested. “Geomjon is fine. What do you think his title is for?! A fight with a third-class disciple isn’t-”
“Don’t you finish that sentence!” a child with a bun on the back of his head cried out. “That’s the Plum Blossom Sword Saint! Do you understand me?! That’s the Plum Blossom Sword Saint! Did you lose your mind?! Was your last sliver of common sense left behind in our time?! How could you pick a fight with him?! No matter what — no matter how you upended the ranks of Mount Hua and no matter how much chaos you cause everywhere you go — I would have thought you’d know better than to do that!”
By the end of his speech, this disciple appeared on the verge of tears. Perhaps cognizant of that, the youngest didn’t say anything in response.
CheongMyeong, meanwhile, was trying his best to not turn up his nose in pride.
‘Ha! You see that, Sahyung? They don’t all hate me! The youngest is just weird — the rest of our descendants think I’m cool!’
CheongMyeong made a mental note to tell CheongJin about this. After witnessing the youngest kid’s general demeanor around CheongMyeong, CheongJin had made an effort to comfort him.
‘Don’t worry, it’s probably not anything you did,’ he said. ‘Just think about it from the kid’s point of view. He’s probably spent all his life hearing about you as a heroic figure. But, now that they’ve been sent into the past, they’ve encountered the real you.’
‘What’s your point?’ CheongMyeong had asked.
‘You shattered the illusion,’ CheongJin explained. ‘Their disappointment must be immeasurable. But, that’s just who you are on the inside. Nothing can be done.’
Except the problem wasn’t CheongMyeong — the other kids respected him just fine. He was definitely going to drag one of the kids in front of CheongJin and make them prove that CheongJin’s theory was wrong. A pleased expression formed on CheongMyeong’s face as he imagined the scene. Watching this, Dangbo struggled to hold in his laughter. Then-
“CheongMyeong!!!”
Both CheongMyeong and the youngest child jumped, turning pale. At that moment, CheongMun rounded the corner and began marching toward them, fury radiating from his being. As soon as he laid eyes on the rather heavily bruised child, that fury multiplied tenfold.
“What were you thinking?!” the Sect Leader demanded, grabbing onto CheongMyeong’s ear. “Are you crazy?! That boy’s barely a third of your age! You’re sixty years old! What kind of elder picks a fight with a child?!”
Two years ago, Baek-oh had decided to retire early, citing immense stress as the reason. The position was thus handed over to the relatively young CheongMun, making CheongMyeong an elder. Ever since then, the expectations CheongMun held for CheongMyeong had only seemed to grow.
“Don’t look at me like I’m being unreasonable!” CheongMun scolded, picking up on CheongMyeong’s thoughts. “I can excuse fighting the elders of other sects, but this is just too far! What will you do if our descendants become scared of us? Have you no sense of morality?!”
“It’s fine! He doesn’t mind!” CheongMyeong insisted. “Look! The kid’s already been treated!”
Despite that impassioned protest, the furious expression on CheongMun’s face didn’t waver. Left with no other option, CheongMyeong gave in.
“I apologize,” he said, bowing toward his own descendants.
“No, no! This is entirely our fault!” the child with a bun insisted, bowing down even more deeply. The others bowed again as well, the handsome kid with a headband and the pretty woman with long hair forcing the youngest to bow with them. Dangbo looked back and forth between the two groups, feeling rather amused.
“In any case….” Amjon clapped his hands together. “Introductions are in order, don’t you think? Who are these little ones?”
The future’s kids immediately looked toward him, suspicion coloring their gazes. CheongMyeong suppressed a laugh at the sight. Dangbo’s robes were obviously not Mount Hua’s, and, physically speaking, it was hard to guess his age. The eldest child stood up, narrowing his eyes.
“...We might not be from this time, but this is still our home. As a guest, don’t you think it’s common courtesy to introduce yourself before — OW!!!”
His foot had been stomped on (rather brutally) by the youngest-looking child. Dangbo winced, recalling the pain that occurred when his Hyung-nim had performed the same move on him. The child glared reproachfully at his Sasuk.
“Show some respect, idiot,” he criticized. “Don’t you recognize those robes? That’s Amjon Dangbo, taesang elder of the Dang family.”
Dangbo blinked at the description, caught somewhat off guard. Given the time difference, he hadn’t expected to be recognized on sight. Then again, perhaps Geomjon calling him ‘Dangbo’ was enough to clue the boy in.
Except-
‘Bo-ya?’ the child asked.
‘Dangbo!’ CheongMyeong greeted.
Dangbo furrowed his brows slightly, wondering if he had misheard.
“We-we greet Amjon Dangbo,” the eldest said, saluting him properly. That seemed to be enough to snap the others out of their shock, each child joining the salute. Looking on from the side, the youngest nodded in approval.
A boy with red hair leaned toward his companion, muttering a scornful, “Since when does he care about us showing respect like that? The guy isn’t even from Mount Hua!”
A young woman with twin buns whacked him forcefully, hissing, “Don’t you recognize that name?! He’s an important figure in the Dang family’s history! He fought with Geomjon during the Great War!”
‘Great war?’ Dangbo thought.
“Oh, right.” The redhead’s eyes widened as realization struck. “He’s your… Great-great-grand-uncle, right?”
“You missed a ‘great’,” the kid with a bun whispered.
CheongMyeong wondered if they actually thought they were speaking too quietly to be heard. Leaving Geomjon and Amjon aside, even a normal person would be able to hear what they were saying. The oldest child, perhaps realizing the same, blushed heavily.
“Grand Uncle?” Dangbo repeated, making the kids jump. They made eye contact with each other, silently trying to figure out what to do, only for the youngest to clear his throat and raise a brow.
“Introduce yourself,” he hissed.
The girl on the receiving end of his gaze hesitated for only a moment before pursing her lips in determination. She turned to Dangbo, bowing once more.
“Dang Soso, third-class disciple of Mount Hua.”
Dangbo’s eyes widened, his thoughts now confirmed. Across from him, several of the future disciples tensed nervously. It seemed they had all been waiting for this — with good reason. For one, if Dangbo didn’t believe they were from the future, then this was someone pretending to be a member of his family. The Dangs had never been known for their forgiveness. And, for another…
Dang Soso.
Disciple of Mount Hua.
A woman who had left the Dang family to pursue martial arts.
Several elders of the Dang family might disapprove of someone for any one of those things. All combined, the kids’ caution seemed reasonable. CheongMyeong supposed they might even be right.
If said elder had been anyone else, of course.
“Now that I look at you, your face definitely resembles Gaju’s,” Dangbo muttered, leaning in close. “Your cultivation was built on techniques taught by the Dang family, wasn’t it?”
The girl tensed further.
“And… you became a disciple of Mount Hua?” Dangbo thought aloud, then grinned. “Ha!”
“I-”
Before the girl’s protest could continue, Dangbo reached forward, grabbed her around her waist, and lifted her into the air. Overcome with excitement, he began spinning her around, moving faster than she could react. CheongMyeong rolled his eyes at the sight, smothering a laugh.
“Amjon?” CheongMun cried out. “Amjon, don’t spin her too much! She’s still a child!”
(She might be an adult in the secular world, but elders of cultivation sects couldn’t help but think of her this way.)
Dangbo slowed to a stop, still holding the girl aloft in the air. Her eyes were spinning. The only positive was that she at least didn’t seem like she was about to throw up. The other kids looked warily at Dangbo, trying to figure out what was going on.
(The only exception was the youngest, who watched with a soft smile, not saying a word.)
At long last, Dangbo set his descendant down. He brushed her off quickly and patted her head, nearly overwhelmed by the implications of her presence here. His eyes sparkled.
“So, you went and joined Mount Hua!” he continued. “The elders just let that happen? That amazing! How did you convince them all??”
“W-well…” Dang Soso stumbled a bit, still trying to collect herself. “My father, the head of the Dang family, gained more power over the elders following a bout. Since Mount Hua is a close friend of the Dang family-”
“Dosa-nim, did you hear that? Our families are close friends!”
“I heard,” CheongMyeong confirmed blandly. “Anyways, introduce yourselves, the rest of you.”
CheongMun frowned, looking as though he wanted to scold CheongMyeong for the rude address, only to hold himself back last minute in order to keep the conversation moving along. The kids, meanwhile, jumped to attention. The eldest stepped forward (keeping his weight off his freshly stomped-on foot) and bowed.
“Greetings, elder. My name is BaekCheon, second-class disciple of Mount Hua.”
The second girl in the group stepped forward next, adding, “Yu Iseol, second-class disciple.”
“My name is Yoon Jong,” a third added. “I… apologize for the earlier incident.”
“Jo Geol, third-class disciple,” the redhead announced. “I’m — my family, I mean — is from Sichuan. It's an honor, elder.”
At that moment, all the future disciples turned to look at the youngest. He was silent for a moment, almost appearing lost in thought, then bowed his head.
“CheongMyeong. Third-class disciple.”
"CheongMyeong?" Dangbo repeated.
There was a slight pause that transpired. The kid in question pursed his lips together, offering no explanations or reactions to Dangbo's shock. Dangbo narrowed his eyes. The similarities between the two CheongMyeongs had been uncanny even before the names were revealed. Astonishingly talented, astonishingly upfront, and astonishingly identical people. Assuming time travel was possible, could the name 'CheongMyeong' have become a title of sorts?
Dangbo stared.
Time passed, and yet no explanation was given regarding the matching names.
One hundred and twenty years involved quite a few generations. Titles could sprout up, traditions could alter, and descendants would be born.
(Naming a child after their infamous grandfather or great-grandfather made more sense than attributing this to coincidence, didn't it?)
CheongMyeong could have grown interested in the fairer sex over that time. It was possible that, some decades from now, someone would catch his interest. Due to his lack of aging, the time frame over which that was possible was much wider. Naming your child after yourself was strange, but perhaps that was simply how the years had matched up in terms of generations at Mount Hua. However, that came with one major question left unanswered.
‘What kind of woman would ever put up with Hyung long enough to have a child with him?’
That was the most fantastical and unrealistic idea suggested thus far!
Were creatures like CheongMyeong able to produce offspring all on their own? Dangbo wouldn’t put it past Geomjon. It made as much sense as anything else his Hyung did-
Dangbo’s thoughts cut off as he abruptly realized that two identical looks were being sent his way. It was the face Geomjon made every time he suspected Dangbo was thinking something insulting about him. Somehow, it seemed the child had the same intuitive sense.
“A-anyways!” Dangbo quickly spoke up. “It's wonderful to meet you all. I only stopped by due to the rumors I was hearing. I wasn’t expecting them to be true. What exciting times we live in! Do you have any specific plans for now?”
“Well-”
“Right now we’re going to go back to training,” tiny-CheongMyeong announced, interrupting the others. “We’re several hours behind already. If we don’t start now, we’ll have to lose out on sleep time to make it up.”
“What?”
“Huh?”
“But, Sahyung-” Dang Soso began.
“What do you mean we’d have to lose sleep?!” BaekCheon shouted. “We’re late because you picked a fight with-”
The same foot of his that had been assaulted earlier was brutally stomped on once again, replacing the protest with a pained whimper.
“It’s afternoon now,” the future’s CheongMyeong pointed out. “Put away your swords and gather around Sheer Drop Cliff! Let the third class disciples from this time know too — bring as many of them as you can catch!”
“Our third class disciples?” CheongMun checked. “They’re on break now — they already trained extensively this morning.”
(Though, now that Geomjon thought about it, hadn’t the future disciples already trained until they dropped just a few short hours ago? He considered mentioning that to his Sect Leader, but just shrugged to himself instead.)
“Of course, Sect Leader,” the little CheongMyeong agreed. “We’re not forcing them to join us. However, I can promise you that any who do will be leaps and bounds ahead of their contemporaries as time goes on.”
“But still… Sheer Drop Cliff is dangerous. Surely there’s no need to go that far.”
The younger CheongMyeong gave a casual shrug, responding, “I’ll be keeping an eye on them in case something goes wrong. We’re training near-vertical ascension, so it’s the best place to go. You’re welcome to watch, if you would like to.”
“You’re letting him watch?!” Jo Geol asked, gaping openly. CheongMyeong glared back at him, silently asking why they were all still waiting around. Taking the hint, the future disciples (minus CheongMyeong) scurried off. Dangbo and CheongMun watched the kid’s departure with only a slight amount of surprise.
If they weren’t so used to their CheongMyeong, the mix of fear and respect the future kids had for a third-class disciple would have seemed odd. As things were, however, it felt strangely natural to see. Neither openly objected to it.
The future's CheongMyeong was glad.
Letting CheongMun watch and grow concerned about the training was a small price to pay. Not only was he determined to get the past Mount Hua to engage in such training, but the importance of leaving this group took precedence over all else. Anything to get himself away from a Dangbo who was happy smiling alive-
Seeing CheongMun and CheongJin had caused him to throw up everything he ate for almost three days straight. He would rather avoid a repeat act if he could.
Both the younger CheongMyeong and CheongMun departed after that, moving to meet up with the disciples for training. Geomjon, after considering joining them for a moment, stayed back. For all that the brat had attacked him — unprovoked, just to be clear — he was always strangely polite to CheongMyeong’s sahyung, even beyond how the other kids were.
‘Of course he likes Jangmun Sahyung!’ CheongJin had said. ‘Sahyung’s personality matches his reputation. You’re the only one who would’ve thrown him off!’
CheongMyeong made a mental note to hunt CheongJin down and get revenge for that line later. He had been so busy lately that he hadn’t yet had the time. The other elder had been finding their out-of-time guests far more entertaining than CheongMyeong felt he should. The Plum Blossom Sword Saint sighed.
“What a strange set of children,” Dangbo commented, attracting CheongMyeong’s attention once more. “I’ve never heard of someone being so energetic after a fight with you, Dosa-nim.”
Having tended to the child’s injuries after, Dangbo knew an ordinary person would have ended up bedridden for weeks because of them. The finest swordsmen of the great sects would have stopped fighting long before the kid had. Quicker recovery times did not remove pain as a factor. However, in response to that statement, Geomjon gave a casual shrug.
“From what I saw, that kid’s injuries heal even faster than mine. A few bruises I gave him during our fight were gone before you got here.”
Which, in some ways, made the damage Dangbo did see even more impressive.
“Must be that scarily pure qi of his.”
“Definitely,” CheongMyeong agreed.
There was a clatter as something ceramic fell onto the ground. Both Dangbo and CheongMyeong looked over to see CheongJin staring at them with wide eyes.
“Sahyung said you fought the kid again,” he began, explaining his presence. “Exactly… how many bruises… did you give that child?”
The two saints paused, looked at each other, then nodded once. In the next instant, they were gone.
“Are you two crazy?!” CheongJin shouted after them. “Sahyung’s going to be even more mad when he finds out you ran!”
Unfortunately, no one was around to hear the warning he gave.
*Clink*
Two glasses, set down before the pair, were filled up quickly. The server bowed deeply then shuffled off, leaving the two elders alone.
“Ha!” Dangbo gave a sigh of satisfaction, licking his lips to help the taste of the alcohol linger. Across from him, CheongMyeong was doing much the same. Sunset had arrived, painting the sky a rosy red. The two of them had entered a tavern fairly close to the Mount Hua Sect, far from the distant cities they would usually flee to. The chances for them to taste this establishment’s prized alcohol were few and far between. There was no need to keep their meet-up a secret from CheongMun this time, however; the pitiful sect leader undoubtedly knew what they were doing by now.
(And would hopefully be too busy with wayward time travelers to pay them much mind.)
(Alleged time travelers, at least.)
Giving a satisfied sigh, Geomjon set his cup down on the table between them, stretching out languidly.
“Seriously, Sahyung didn’t have to get that mad,” he complained, grumbling petulantly. “The kid was fine! He’d started the fight knowing what he was getting into.”
(Privately, Dangbo thought that excuse would only make CheongMun even more angry if he heard it.)
“Speaking of which, how old was the kid?” Dangbo asked. “He looked young, but his qi was way stronger than I would’ve expected.”
Weaker than CheongMyeong’s, of course. Weaker than Dangbo’s too. The fact that those two were the points of comparison said more than enough about how unusual that child had been.
CheongMyeong huffed, responding, “Well, the kid claims to be eighteen. The oldest of those kids is just about thirty. The Dang girl is the newest third-class disciple and the brat with a headband is the oldest second-class sahyung. If we believe what they have to say, anyway.”
“You believe they’re from the future but think they’re lying about their ages?”
“One has a lot more evidence than the other!” CheongMyeong protested, slamming his fist against the table. “We didn’t believe them right away either. When they first arrived, Sahyung thought they were spies from another sect!”
Dangbo nodded. Most people would have jumped to a conclusion like that.
“What convinced you otherwise, then? The fact that they knew the sect’s techniques?”
CheongMyeong scoffed, throwing his hands in the air and exclaiming, “Forget ‘knowing our techniques’ — those kids could perform them better than most of Mount Hua’s own disciples! In fact, they were better than disciples ten years older than them! Can you believe it?!”
Dangbo definitely did. He’d walked in to see a bump left by a child on the head of Geomjon. Sneak attack or not, that shouldn’t have been possible for anyone his age. If the other children were even a fraction as weird, normal disciples would be child’s play to them.
Spies with that much information probably wouldn’t need to approach the sect in such a strange manner.
“Still, there’s a big jump between ‘they know our techniques’ and ‘they’re our disciples from the future.’ Dosa-Hyung aside, I doubt your senior brothers would believe them so-”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing!” Dangbo insisted at once, quickly refilling CheongMyeong’s cup. “So? Was that all there was?”
CheongMyeong gave an annoyed huff but took the refilled cup regardless, continuing, “That’s when it started getting weird. The kid with a green ribbon in his hair, the one who was fighting me, asked Sahyung for notable events that happened recently. As soon as Sahyung mentioned how the two of us cleared out the Huaihe River Bandits last week, the kid started rattling off a bunch of events. ‘The White Lotus of Shaolin will challenge Geomjon to a fight soon.’ ‘Pirates from the southern sea are going to start acting more aggressively and will attack a town up north.’ ‘The mid-autumn festival in the Guangdong province will be delayed by a storm.’ ‘A marriage will be announced between a maiden from the Namgung family and a commoner-”
“Wait, I heard about that one,” Dangbo realized. “Wasn’t it only released to the world two days ago?”
“Uh-huh. And the kid mentioned it five days ago,” CheongMyeong confirmed. “Some of the events he told us about had already happened, a few haven’t happened yet, and the rest have occurred since he told us about them. Either he’s a fortune teller with terrible accuracy, a liar with all the information in the world, or a creepy brat from the future thrown back in time.”
Dangbo hummed, tapping a finger against the table. He hadn’t experienced it himself, so it was hard to judge the quality of those ‘predictions.’ Everything mentioned could have been known some other way. However, as the list of predictions got longer and longer…
“What about the other children?” Dangbo asked, looking up once more. “Did they have any ‘predictions’ of their own?”
Here, CheongMyeong gained a look of even greater annoyance than before, snapping, “They definitely did! All six of those kids are absolutely certain that Mount Hua’s going to end up in a war soon!”
“The… ‘Great War’ they mentioned?” Dangbo asked, furrowing his brows. “What, they think a group of Sapas is going to establish itself as a legitimate threat? Or is this in the secular world?”
“Nope; our world,” CheongMyeong confirmed. “The Blood or Evil or something-like-that cult is allegedly going to come out of nowhere and fight the ten great sects. The war will last years and nearly ‘bring Mount Hua to the ground.’ My sect’s finances, alliances, status, and techniques will all be lost. The two of us both die in the war too.”
"Really?" Dangbo asked. No answer came. The prediction could neither be confirmed nor disproven at this stage.
(It was rather annoying, truth be told.)
“But… those kids are more skilled than most disciples in the current Mount Hua,” Dangbo pointed out. “And, technique-wise, the child you were fighting is definitely not lacking-”
“That’s what I said!” Cheongmyeong insisted, getting even more riled up than before. “They’re clearly doing more than fine! We’ll be on the lookout for cults, obviously, but they’re definitely exaggerating some of it!”
Dangbo nodded in agreement.
“The kid tried to fight me as soon as I pointed that out.”
A half-suppressed laugh escaped Amjon at that moment, covered up by an unconvincing cough. No questions had to be asked about which of the kids that was. The other CheongMyeong, whose eyes were an identical shade of pink, matched Geomjon’s fearlessness and aggressiveness to a tee. He was also one of very few people in the world who would willingly fight Geomjon a second time. As far as Dangbo knew, he was the only person in the last twenty years who had challenged CheongMyeong to a rematch. Now, there seemed to be another.
“...So, we both die in whatever conflict’s coming?”
“That’s what they said,” CheongMyeong shrugged. “Sahyung’s planning on telling the other great sects about all this — the war, not the time travel — at a conference in a couple of weeks. Not sure how many of them will believe us, though.”
Zero, if Dangbo had to guess. Something being powerful enough to kill Geomjon was harder to accept than the time travel claim. Whether the sects believed this or not depended mainly on how much evidence the kids managed to gather before the conference began. It was-
Both CheongMyeong and Dangbo turned to look at the door. Their postures remained relaxed but their gazes were focused and alert. Several seconds went by, the tavern room remaining in the state it had been for the past three hours or so. Then, the door opened.
“There you are!”
The speaker’s impossibly pure qi was equally impossible to miss. Neither Dangbo nor CheongMyeong were surprised by the identity of the intruder. The child from the future marched over to them, fearless and impatient.
“I need you for something,” he announced, handing a note to Geomjon. “I got permission from your Sect Leader.”
CheongMyeong frowned, opening the kid’s note to see a very strongly worded message from his Sahyung about making the earlier fight up to the boy. He scowled, crumpling the note into a ball. It was completely unreasonable of his Sahyung to expect this! Not only had the kid started the fight, but both of them were fine! With qi like that, the kid had probably healed up already!
Unfortunately, pointing that out wasn’t likely to change CheongMun’s mind.
CheongMyeong sighed.
“What’s this about?” Dangbo asked, resting his elbow on the table and leaning his head against his hand. “If there’s a fight going on, I could lend some assistance.”
“Why would you be needed?”
“That’s mean, Hyung!” Dangbo complained, giving him a harsh poke. “You should want me there. You never know; maybe the kid will get hurt and you’ll need me to treat him.”
Geomjon rolled his eyes but didn’t disagree.
(Neither noticed the way the ‘child’ frowned at CheongMyeong’s words, a brief look of disgust consuming his face. Two seconds passed, the hatred in the boy’s eyes lingering across them.)
“...Sounds good.”
“Hm?” Both saints looked up at him, having expected a rejection.
“This isn’t sect business?” Dangbo checked. “I thought-”
“It is sect business,” the kid confirmed. “But it’s a delicate enough procedure that Geomjon might benefit from your help. Besides, it’s more your area of expertise anyways.”
Geomjon twitched at the casual slight, his eyes narrowing: “What this about, then? You really want both of us to help you out?”
The child nodded, then leaned in. Sensing the sudden desire for secrecy, both Geomjon and Amjon unconsciously leaned in too. The words the child spoke next were said so quietly that, even at this small distance, no one other than the two saints would have been able to hear.
“We’re headed to the Medicine Immortal’s grave,” the boy revealed, his eyes glowing red under the setting sun. “Both Mount Hua and the Dang family are going to get their hands on the Origin Energy Pill — and its recipe, too.”
Dangbo would freely admit that his mouth had dropped open into a disbelieving gape upon hearing those words. CheongMyeong, on the other hand, couldn’t help but respond:
“We already have pills. Leaving the Dang family aside, what’s wrong with our Plum Blossom pellets?”
“Wait, why are we leaving my family aside-”
“Really?! Just having them is enough for you?” the child asked, both CheongMyeongs ignoring Dangbo with practiced ease. “Sure! Mount Hua and Shaolin both have pills. They must be exactly the same then, right? No difference at all?”
CheongMyeong rolled his eyes, snapping back, “Look. Mount Hua has been just fine for centuries with the pills we have now. The journey you’re suggesting could take months! Why would we go hunt down some ancient healer’s grave — are you even sure it exists?!”
“Of course I’m sure! I’m not asking for this out of boredom. I found the pills in our time, a hundred years in the future. I know where they are.”
Every statement the kid made was harder to believe than the one before it. CheongMyeong sighed, brushing a hand through his hair.
(This child was far from the first one to think they could turn themselves into a renowned hero by using Geomjon as a crutch. The fact that Dangbo was asked to come too only strengthened CheongMyeong’s certainty that this was about their reputations, rather than their strength. They would be ‘looking for pills,’ fight off some bandits along the way, and then the kid could proclaim he had saved people alongside Geomjon and Amjon when he returned. If the pills were real then the story would be even more believable — regardless of whether the kid could have reached the pills all on his own.)
Giving another put-upon sigh, CheongMyeong suggested, “Why don’t we just be upfront about this? I’ll take you to Qinghai or something; there are plenty of Sapa bastards around there. We can fight some off and be back within a week. Sound like a plan?”
This time, the child was the one gaping. He stared for several seconds before being overcome with rage:
“You think I’m bringing you to fight something?! I’m serious about the pills. The ones Mount Hua and the Dang family have aren’t good enough. Wudang has better pills than you do!”
“What does it matter?” CheongMyeong asked. “Ours work perfectly well. Getting stronger’s just a matter of training. I’ve never had any trouble against Shaolin-”
“This isn’t about you!”
With that shout, the child had slammed a hand down on their table, nearly snapping it in two. It was only Dangbo’s quick reaction that kept their jars of alcohol from toppling to the ground. Geomjon’s annoyance grew.
However, as he looked back at the kid, he found himself pausing for a moment. CheongMyeong was well-accustomed to looks of annoyance and frustration. From his Sahyung to his juniors to enemy Sapa to the elders of other sects, there was no one CheongMyeong couldn’t draw this sort of reaction out of. Looks of hate were often sent his way.
Never quite like this, however.
The hate CheongMyeong was usually sent was a mix of disbelief, frustration, and burning-hot rage. They couldn’t believe he would do or say the things he had. Their rage was, in large part, because they couldn’t stop him from speaking how he pleased.
None of that showed on the kid’s face now.
Instead, what CheongMyeong saw was a near-mocking level of disgust. There wasn’t surprise nor was there embarrassment. The child hadn’t flushed in anger. Everything there burned cold.
Disgust wasn’t even the right word for it. As the child stared back at CheongMyeong, the distinct sensation that he was being looked at as something truly worthless came over Geomjon.
‘You shattered the illusion,’ CheongJin explained. ‘Their disappointment must be immeasurable. But, that’s just who you are on the inside. Nothing can be done.’
CheongMyeong couldn’t recall a single time someone had looked at him this way.
“This isn’t… about you,” the kid repeated. “You would be strong in any sect. The other disciples of Mount Hua are what you should be comparing against Shaolin.”
The way the kid bit out the word ‘strong’ made it sound nearly sarcastic despite who he was addressing.
“My Sahyungs are strong for their age, aren’t they? Stronger than equivalent disciples from your time. The demonic sect is coming. Keeping every disciple of Mount Hua safe will be easier if you have access to the Origin Energy Pill.”
The demonic sect.
Who, according to the kid, would kill both CheongMyeong and Dangbo in two decades or so.
(CheongMyeong didn’t fully believe that yet. The disciples of the future had provided no evidence for the war other than their word. It was only human nature to be skeptical of such a claim.)
(Nonetheless, the kids, at the very least, seemed to believe what they were saying.)
A bitter silence had fallen over the tavern. Now that CheongMyeong was paying attention, he realized that all other conversations in the building had come to a halt. Their shouting match had made even drunkards pause. The civilians were ready to run if a fight broke out.
‘...Fine. Whatever. The drinking atmosphere’s been ruined anyways,’ CheongMyeong supposed, standing up. Picking up one of the jars of alcohol Dangbo had saved, CheongMyeong brought it to his mouth and finished all that remained.
He set the empty jar down on the table with a loud thump.
“Alright, lead the way,” he instructed.
The kid’s eyes widened as if he was momentarily caught off guard. He recovered quickly however, nodding once in confirmation.
“Good. Let’s go.”