Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Chapter 196

At Kwak Yeon’s question, Chwi Dugae stared straight through him and said,

“Some bastard used my name. Used it hard, too. Said I was building some Taoist temple.”

Only then did Kwak Yeon realize it was because he had used the Sub-Branch Master’s name at the Youhyeon County Beggar Clan branch.

“Ah—that. Was that what angered you so much?”

At the innocent counter-question, Chwi Dugae sighed.

“Heh. Look at this clueless friend. What do I look like to you?”

“You’re my elder brother.”

“Not that. My real stripe.”

“You’re a Sub-Branch Master of the Beggar Clan.”

“Then what’s my profession?”

“...A beggar.”

“Right. I’m a beggar. If word goes around that a begging beggar donated nine hundred taels of gold, what do you think people will say?”

“It would put you in a tight spot.”

Kwak Yeon nodded readily.

It wasn’t a coin or two but a vast sum—nine hundred taels of gold. There would be talk, and plenty, about where it came from.

“But wouldn’t that only make people say you’re all the more free of greed, as a Sub-Branch Master?”

“That’s because you don’t know me.”

“...?”

“I’ve roamed the rivers and lakes a long time, and the tabs I’ve—no, the drinks I’ve cadged add up. Now that rumor’s spread... whew.”

Seeing the clear light in Kwak Yeon’s eyes, he let out a long sigh and went on.

“Everywhere I go they look at me with slit eyes. ‘You tossed out a fortune but couldn’t cover a few coppers of drink?’”

“...”

“Even Master sent a pigeon. Said, ‘However hard I trained you, could you not have kept your mouth shut?’ Hurt, he was. If I’d stayed in Hangzhou I’d have dried up and died, so I ran.”

Kwak Yeon could understand him being angry—he had traded on Chwi Dugae’s name without asking, even if for a good cause.

But the point of anger seemed... off.

If he had scolded, ‘I don’t care for empty fame; that was clearly your mistake,’ he would have apologized for a grave wrong.

But to be angry for getting in trouble over skipping drink tabs?

Of course, he knew the real rub: that rumor would make free drinks harder to come by.

In any case, he was a man beyond common sense.

‘Maybe that’s why he draws me.’

He hid nothing, was honest in feeling, a crank who was easy to be around.

One could lay anything out and ask his counsel, knowing he would think of the other first.

Looking at Chwi Dugae felt like finding a jewel shining alone in a field of mud.

‘Though that filthy state really is hard to get used to.’

He had been deeply shocked watching him at the Agyang winehouse, snoring away with blithe peace in the very pit where Kwak Yeon had vomited.

Once they had sworn as brothers, he had wanted to break this prejudice of his—that being a beggar meant being forever dirty.

Thinking the timing perfect, Kwak Yeon smiled inwardly and said,

“If you’re angry, strike the back of my head once.”

“Cut it out. If I’m to hit the back of a still brother’s head, I’d rather hit a rock outside.”

“Then you’ve cooled your anger.”

“Damn it. The water’s already spilled. What can I do? I can’t tell them to tear down a temple halfway built.”

As his expression eased, Kwak Yeon shifted the topic.

“Then how did you find me here?”

“Don’t you know you’re the most talked-about man in the rivers and lakes?”

“I don’t know about fame, but I know it’s noisy.”

“Same thing. Anyway, word is everywhere that the famed Dark Cavern Taoist is headed for Mount Wuyi. If you go from Youhyeon County to Great King Peak where the Wuyi Sect sits, you pass here.”

From Hangzhou to Mount Wuyi was short compared to the road he had already taken; staking out this town had been a shrewd choice.

When the matter had run its course, Kwak Yeon straightened and said, polite and formal,

“In any case, my judgment was shallow. As you say, spilled water can’t be gathered, but I will write a letter to explain, so the Beggar Clan Leader’s misunderstanding is cleared.”

“Leave it. Let that old man learn this time to fear his disciple a little.”

“...?”

“I mean, he’s learned that if he neglects his disciple, he’ll get not even soup when he’s older.”

Kwak Yeon was taken aback again.

‘Like master, like disciple, they say.’

Thinking of that odd master and disciple made him worry for Gwaa.

“Brother, Gwaa is well, I hope?”

“That’s another thing that vexes me.”

His heart sank.

“Then... the Clan Leader dislikes him?”

“No—the opposite, and that’s why I’m angry.”

“...Pardon?”

“Don’t even start. Honey drips from his eyes, his mouth hangs open in a grin... tch! He dotes so much I fear the child will wear away.”

Kwak Yeon was truly at a loss.

“How is that cause for anger? The Grand-Master cherishes his grand-disciple.”

“He never did that for me.”

“...!”

“With me his fist came first. Damn it!”

Again, Kwak Yeon clicked his tongue inwardly.

‘What lies between those two to make them cat-and-dog?’

One way or another, he had to soothe Chwi Dugae.

There was a most important story he needed to hear from him next.

And that story—he would not hear it in a light mood.

“Brother, have you dined?”

“Not yet.”

“Then let’s talk over a meal. With wine, of course.”

Chwi Dugae’s eyes flashed.

“Good idea. Touch dough and crumbs stick. You must be flush.”

“I have enough that you need not {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} worry about drink for a while.”

His grin split to his ears.

“I do have an eye for people. Let’s go at once.”

When Kwak Yeon shook his head, he asked,

“Why?”

“If we go now the bathwater I had drawn will go cold.”

“Ah! Right.”

He nodded.

“Then wash and come out. I’ll go ahead and get a table.”

As he turned, Kwak Yeon caught his sleeve.

“Mm?”

“You wash too. They drew two tubs.”

“I’m fine.”

“You may be, but others aren’t.”

“That’s their weak stomachs.”

“Then I won’t go out. Mine is weak as well.”

“Fine, then just give me the money and rest. You must be travel-worn. Unlike tea, pouring one’s own wine has its charm.”

Kwak Yeon shook his head.

“As your younger brother, I cannot let you pay.”

“Hey, I’m fine with it.”

“I am not.”

“Mm...?”

“Didn’t you say beggars don’t pay to eat?”

Seeing the hard line of his mouth, Chwi Dugae realized it was no accident there were two steaming tubs.

Even hiding in the detached, he had thought it odd.

When there are two tubs, one is usually hot and the other cold. Here, steam boiled off both.

He had chalked it up to the Dark Cavern Taoist’s tastes...

‘Damn it!’

It was not an eight-or-nine guess on the street; he had been certain—ten of ten—that the gaze he felt belonged to Chwi Dugae.

Startled, he studied Kwak Yeon closely.

‘Ah!’

Even the flicker of force he had sometimes sensed before was gone.

He had reached a state where even a Peak Master at the height of the Fire Realm could not detect his aura—perfectly gathered inward.

Such progress could not be held by “a look that makes one rub one’s eyes,” nor by “new each day.”

“What happened to you in the meantime?”

Eyes wide, he asked. Kwak Yeon said quietly,

“I’ll tell you slowly while we wash. It’s a long story.”

“...?”

“At least a Dharma Topic will come clear.”

A warrior will leap into fire to gain the spark of realization.

Chwi Dugae, being a warrior, would refuse nothing.

Only...

The place he had to leap was not a fire but a bath tub.

It would break a lifelong habit of bathing once a year.

‘Damn!’

****

When Jegal Geon entered from the front doors of the Hall of the Coiled Dragon, the Jegal Family’s retainers ranked within all held their breath at once.

Within the family they called him the Fire Dragon of Jegal, and in the rivers and lakes they called him the Fire Dragon Divine Sword, but the name that fit him best was another:

The Jegal Family’s Sword.

At six chi tall with broad-set shoulders and a cutting waist, he was dazzling enough to be called a divine dragon without unease.

Walking ramrod-straight between the lines of retainers, Jegal Geon came to stand before Clan Master Jegal Jin, who sat on the high seat upon the dais in the hall.

A silence where not a breath could be heard hung with a tension set to explode.

Jegal Geon raised his right hand to his chest and bowed at the waist.

“Clan Master! Your younger brother, Jegal Geon, pays respects.”

In this house, for the younger to observe the retainer’s rite toward the elder was astonishing.

But in the Jegal Family—especially for sons of the Main House—it was a matter of course.

Each time he watched his younger brother’s punctilious bow, Clan Master Jegal Jin felt a faint sadness.

From earliest childhood, Jegal Geon had treated his elder brother with strict formality. That was by their father’s severe order.

“Geon! Regard your brother not as a brother, but as heaven. Jin, think of Geon not as a younger brother, but as a retainer.”

Their father had not wished to leave to his heirs the regret that he himself had not been stern enough with his own younger brother.

From then on, all in the house watched to see if elder and younger properly obeyed the Clan Master’s commands.

So through decades, the fixed way these brothers behaved had become all too natural.

When Jegal Jin mounted to Clan Master, he had at least forced the younger-brother form of address; thus before the Clan Master, Jegal Geon always styled himself “your younger brother, Jegal Geon.”

Jegal Jin nodded and said,

“At ease, younger brother.”

“Thank you, Clan Master.”

When Jegal Geon released his clasped-fist salute and straightened, his imposing figure stood out full.

Turning to the retainers lined in the hall, Jegal Jin said,

“We will end here. All are dismissed.”

When the retainers had withdrawn by twos and threes, only the two brothers remained within the hall.

—Thoom!

As the hall doors shut, Jegal Jin sprang up.

In a bound he came down from the dais and embraced his younger brother.

“Geon!”

A moment later, he stepped back and, looking with pride at a brother a handspan taller than himself, said,

“You’re home.”