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"I don't see the idea behind saving Mount Hua's Chivalrous Sword? Wouldn't it be better to quickly kill anyone who could be a threat?" Gakmyung frowned.
"No. The Heavenly Comrade Alliance is rallying around him and he's the main pillar of the alliance. If the existence of Mount Hua's Chivalrous Sword disappears, the Heavenly Comrade Alliance will be nothing, they will quickly split and become easy prey" Jang Ilso glanced at the strategist, a frosty cold lingering in his eyes. "Can we reap the fruits of that?"
"No, it would be tedious"
"Yes. Untill we stabilize Su Lo Chae and Black Ghost Castle, we can't cross the river. Furthermore, the deaths of Great Master of Ten Thousand Gold and the injuries of Black Dragon King are critical. We should use that to our advantage."
"If so, then who will take advantage of the opportunity we've created?"
"Those hypocrites."
Jang Ilso nodded his head and realisation struck Gakmyung.
The Ten Great Sects was no different from the Evil Tyrant Alliance. The only determining factor between the both of them was the fact that the Ten Great Sects beared more hatred and hostility towards the Heavenly Comrade Alliance, otherwise, they were more or less similar in the way they operated.
The Ten Great Sects would undoubtedly seize weakened opportunity, especially the old, hairless and cunning hypocrite — the Abbot from Shaolin.
"Until now, drawing a line centered around the Yangtze River had significance. However... if the Ten Great Sects swallow the Heavenly Comrade Alliance, that line will become an insurmountable wall for us. That's the worst-case scenario."
"Indeed.."
That's why Jang Ilso also had to keep Cheong Myeong alive.
Indeed, it was a strange relationship.
'A pawn with many uses..,' Jang Ilso mused, ' what a valuable asset'
"Would his role end here, Ryeonjul-nim?" Gakmyung asked.
Jang Ilso's leisure steps stopped and he looked back, his gaze settled towards the north, settled on the expansive horizon filled with numerous trees and luscious greens, but gakmyung knew his gaze staring at someone beyond the horizon.
Gakmyung stood beside the latter, staring intently at the powdered face caked with dried blood. He saw a flicker in the grey eyes of Jang Ilso — a playful flame that billowed mischief — as his blood red lips, now painted over with a dark crimson, curled into an enigmatic smile.
Gakmyung found himself intrigued yet perplexed by the smile. It was similar to the malicious grins Jang Ilso made when he found something interesting, yet entirely different in a way he did not know.
"Perhaps.."
"Yes, Ryeonjul-nim?"
"An actor sometimes changes their cast don't they?"
The strategist remained silent, anticipation vivid on his face.
"Gakmyung"
"Yes, Ryeonjul-nim," the strategist was steadfast in his reply.
"I need a letter and a brush," Ilso said, turning to Gakmyung. The latter swiftly pulled out a small envelope, a slip of paper, and a small brush from the breast pocket of his robes.
Jang Ilso received the items gracefully. He held the wooden shaft of the brush to his chin as he deliberated for a short moment, deep in thought, and started writing something down onto the paper which he held in the palm of his hand.
Gakmyung watched from the side, his face stoic, however, a glimpse of curiosity shined in his eyes.
"Is the ship at the riverbank?" Ilso inquiried, folding the paper neatly and packing it within the small, white envelope.
"Yes, I've ordered the Su Luo Chae to leave a boat at the riverbank, as per your orders"
"Send this to the ship"
"Yes"
"Send a crate of alcohol as well. There should still be more left in the cellar I've found. Have someone to fetch it," Jang Ilso ordered, waving his hand lazily and he walked away. His hands were tucked behind his back, his steps still a slow leisure as he headed south.
Gakmyung nodded again, turning on his heels and he headed to the other members of the saparyeon to issue new orders.
...
The sounds of dishes clinking filled the deck as the disciples of mouth hua — and their hairless monk from Shaolin — sat huddled around the cauldron, feasting on their rice hungrily like famished beggars.
"Rice has never tasted so good," Jo Gol cried out, beads of rice flying out his open mouth as he bawled. He hadn't eaten for the past three days and for someone who had an appetite as large as the sun, he felt like a rotting skeleton dying from hunger.
"Don't talk with food in your mouth," Yoon Jong smacked Jo Gol's head, causing the latter to choke on his rice. "It's disgusting"
"I almost died," the curly haired martial artist coughed out, grumbling and his face was scrunched up into a right frown. He scooped a spoonful of rice from what seemed like his sixth bowl of rice into his mouth.
"That's your problem"
"Manners, Jo Gol"
"Amitabha, please close your mouth when you eat siju, it's unsightly"
The other chimed in, causing Jo Gol to screeched indignantly.
"Why are you all ganging up on me?!"
"Sasuk"
"Yes?"
"Don't ignore me!"
"Will the lady and her child be fine?"
"Soso said she's alright," Baek Cheon replied.
"Wont she be scared? You saw how she was looking at us earlier"
"The sect leader will talk to her when we get back"
"Ah, then things shouldn't be too bad," Yoon Jong nodded his head. Baek Cheon watched from the side, a sense of pride welling up inside him as he saw the taoist like behaviour coming from his junior.
The once silent deck erupted into cheerful banter and conversations at the very next moment. It was comforting, much like how one would feel seeing such a lively and boisterous atmosphere, and it provided consolation to the horrible disasters they had seen a day ago at the Hang Zhou with the demonic cult. Cheong myeong watched from the side, a soft smile curling his lips as he watched the kids he raised playing about.
In the midst of all the chaos where insults were being thrown haphazardly, Jo Gol who has been looking around with a bores look noticed a rather odd looking crate sitting in one corner of the deck. It blended in well with the other wooden planks of the ship, but what captured Jo Gol's eyes was the letters engraved on the box.
"...Shao?" He squinted his eyes, trying his best to see in the engraved letters.
"What's going on?" Yoon Jong asked.
"There's a wine crate over there," the latter pointed at the wooden crate, "I think that's Shao Xing wine."
"How did you know?"
"There were letters engraved on the box"
"Bring it here"
Jo Gol wordlessly stood up and started waking towards the crate. He inspected the wooden box when he got close enough, bending left and right as he scrutinized the suspicious object with a hand to his chin. He picked it up when he deemed it safe, and brought it back to the group. Cheong myeong, whom had been silently observing the scene, shifted closer to the group to see the crate that was placed in the middle of the disciples.
"Why is it here?"
"Maybe the pirates left it here?" Dowi offered.
"Hmm, could be," Baek Cheon hummed. He inched towards the crate and instantly, he could smell the faint fragrance of alcohol.
"We should open it"
"Sasuk, you do it"
"Why me?" The great disciple asked, looking incredulously at Jo Gol
"There might be a bomb inside it. I want my hands. This is the Yangtze river, you know?"
"Gol-ah.."
"Yes?"
"I'll throw you off the ship if you don't shut up," and with that, the curly-haired martial artist's mouth clamp shut like a clam.
Baek Cheon shifted his attention back to the crate and crept his hands towards it. He placed a hand on the lid, whilst his other hand roamed around the crate to find a latch. He unlocked the latch the moment he found it, and lifted the lid carefully whilst staring inside.
Polished, ceramic bottles were lined up nearly within the crate. They sat perfectly still on a white cushion, and the moonlight reflecting off its surface created a white splendor that surrounded the bottles. The aroma of the alcohol diffused into the air like perfume, spreading its fragrance infinitely and wafting under the disciples's noses. The bottles of alcohol looked heavenly, tantalising even, and Baek Cheon found himself drooling at the sight.
An audible gulp escape Yoon Jong's throat whilst a trickle of saliva slipped out of the corners of Jo Gol's mouth. Namgung Dowi was having a hard time prying his eyes away from the glistening ceramic bottles, whilst Im Sobyeong's face was contorted into an impressed look. Hye Yeon, too, was unable to resist the temptation and muttered prayers after prayers under his breath.
"Is..is this for us?"
"I think so? It was on the ship, isn't it? And this ship was supposed to be for us"
"Should we drink it?"
Baek Cheon looked around the vicinity. Un geom, Tang Soso and Yoo Iseol were in the cabin tending to the madam they had rescued, so it meant that it was only him, the disciples of mount hua, their hairless monk, Namgung Dowi, and the Nokrim King on the deck at the current moment. It was the perfect opportunity to get drunk.
"Sasuk, can we drink it?" Jo Gol turned to Baek Cheon with excitement in his eyes.
"Hmm," the great disciple pondered.
"I know you want to drink it sasuk."
"No I don't."
"I saw you gulping just now."
"Yoon Jong gulped too."
"I...did no such thing.."
"Ahem," Baek Cheon coughed into his hand, "I don't know if we can drink it.."
"Oh come on! I know we can drink it. Un geom sasuk isn't here right now"
"Yeah but.."
In truth, he really wanted to drink it. The alcohol looked too tantalising to not have a sip, but on the other hand, he really wanted to keep his dignity as the great disciple.
"We should drink it now since we have the chance"
"Hmm," the Baek disciple furrowed his eyebrows. A few moments passed before he, finally, relentled, "sure"
Just then, the door clicked open, revealing Soso and Yoo Iseol standing at the entrance of the cabin. A wave of disappointment washed over the disciples when they saw the sight of Soso. The Tang's family daughter glanced down, and her green eyes were ablaze with flames the moment she saw the crate full of alcohol.
"Don't even think about it"
"Damnit..you were too slow sasuk," Jo Gol lamented disgruntledly, and Baek Cheon shot a glare at his junior.
"You can drink it when you recover," Soso groaned.
"But-"
"Do you want needles in your head?"
"Urk..fine..," the curly haired martial artists shrunk.
Iseol and Soso joined the fray, sitting down on the wooden deck with the others whilst explaining the situation to them — Un geom had decided to stay in the cabin to discuss the madam's situation, leaving them alone on the deck. Banter resumed once more, and the situation turned chaotic in the blink of an eye.
"Stay away from the crate!" Soso yelled, her needles shinning under the moonlight as she held them up.
Yoon Jong, frightened, shrank back and raised his hands in a defensive manner, with the words, "I-i-i-it's not that! There's a letter in the crate!" coming out as a stutter.
Soso narrowed her eyes at the latter, suspicious, but yoon Jong didn't back down. Baek Cheon peaked inside the crate, his eyes widening with curiosity when he saw a white envelope sticking out from behind one of the bottle of alcohol. He picked up the letter — with the others watching baek Cheon with equal curiosity in their eyes — and scrutinized the white envelope.
"Cheong myeong-ah"
"Hmm?"
"This letter is addressed to you," the great disciple held up the envelope. The nickname 'Mount Hua's Chivalrous Sword' was written elegantly on the white cover.
Cheong myeong took the envelope from Baek Cheon's hand, staring at it with coldy when the realisation that it was a letter from Jang Ilso dawned on him. The others stared as Cheong myeong teared opened the envelope before fishing out the letter that was stored within.
Hushed silence fell over the desk. Everyone was watching Mount Hua's Chivalrous Sword intently, but his expression was hard to read. His bangs fell over his face, hiding his eyes and mouth which made it impossible to see a snear or a cold smirk.
A minute passed, and Baek Cheon started to notice a small tremor shaking Cheong Myeong's shoulders. The tremor started to grow larger and what had started out as a small quaking soon turned into a violent trembling. His shoulders were shaking so much it resembled an earthquake, or a rather, a volcano that was about to erupt. Baek Cheon scrambled onto his knees, his hand held up wide open as he tried to figure out what to do next.
Was Cheong myeong laughing? Was he angry? Or perhaps crying? He didn't know, and it was starting to make him panic.
"Cheong myeong! Is something wrong? What did the letter say? Is Jang Ilso planning something?" He blurted out.
Mount Hua's Chivalrous Sword, whom had remained silent throughout the entire time, shoved the letter into his robes and sprang up. He grabbed his sword, brandishing the blade as he started sprinting towards the edge of the ship.
"JANG ILSOOO! THAT FUCKING PROSTITUE!"
Instantly, Yoon Jong, Yoo Iseol, Jo Gol, Soso and Hye yeon ran after their maknae. Jo Gol jumped and grabbed onto Cheong myeong's robes, whilst Yoo Iseol, Yoon Jong and Hye yeon caught his limbs. Soso pulled out needles and stabbed her sahyung relentlessly. Cheong myeong, in-between helped yelps of pain, was still cursing Jang Ilso with crude profanities.
The great disciple of Mount Hua, The Nokrim King, and the Sogaju of the Namgung clan watched from the side, thier faces blank.
"What did Jang Ilso write..?" Baek Cheon asked Im Sobyeong with a sigh.
"I don't know. I dont know what that guy writes."
"Is..is Cheong myeong Dojang okay..?" Dowi asked, concerned.
"It's a regular thing," the scholar mumbled defeatedly, seemingly having given up on life.
"But..it seems different doesn't it?"
The two turned their heads to Baek Cheon.
"Cheong myeong's reaction seems more intense than usual"
"Jang Ilso might have written something offensive"
"His ears are red though"
"Huh?" Im Sobyeong turned to look at Cheong myeong. He squinted his eyes, and sure enough, a pair of red ears was visible amongst the chaotic entanglement of limbs. "Maybe Jang Ilso wrote something really offensive"
"Like what?"
"Perhaps he cursed his mother?"
"Would he get offended at that though? He's an orphan"
"Then he probably cursed out the Mount Hua sect"
"Or perhaps..," Baek Cheon's voice trailed off into the distance as he conversed with the Nokrim King. Dowi, a bystander of the situation turned to look up at the sky.
The night sky was twinkling with stars, and each one resembled a late disciple of the Namgung clan. They seemed to be cheering him on with entertained smiles and half hearted thumb-ups — heck, he even saw his father smiling at him brightly.
A sniffle came from Dowi and he gritted his teeth. Those damned disciples whom he called his brothers and uncles were enjoying his suffering. He turned towards the chaos on the deck, especially the human ball of chaos that was rolling across the wooden planks, and wiped a stray tear from his eye.
A victim...he felt like a victim whenever he was with them...
...
A sleepy spell had been casted upon the martial artists on the desk, lulling them into a quiet slumber as exhaustion took over their bodies. Everyone was sprawled across the wooden deck, sleeping soundlessly like boisterous kids who had expended all their energy. Un geom, who had returned after talking with the madam, was asleep beside the kids as well.
Cheong myeong, having being unable to sleep, was on the other side of the ship — where everything was quieter and hidden from the kid's eyes. He sat cross-legged, his back leaning against a wooden pillar with a bottle of alcohol by his side.
The disciple stared up at the moon, his eyes half lidded yet sharp, and his plum blossom coloured eyes was lit by the dim moonlight. A pinkish hue dusted his cheeks, complimenting his beauty perfectly.
A thought struck Cheong myeong and he frowned. He picked up the bottle of alcohol, taking a large swig from it before placing it back on the deck. He clicked his tongue, gulping down the lump in his throat as his cheeks, which had been pink a moment ago, was aflame with a hot carmine. The blush spread to his ears, painting them red as he reached into his robe.
Cheong myeong pulled out the crumpled letter, his hands smoothing out the crumples gently before unfolding the paper. He stared at the elegantly written words, his heart thumping in his chest as he pressed his trembling lips into a thin line.
'My knees are aching, Cheong Myeong-ah'
"This fucking bastard..," Cheong myeong grunted. His face felt too hot all of a sudden.
He shoved the letter back into his robe and took another swig of alcohol. He brought his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly as he burried his red face into his arms whilst ignoring the vivid sensation of a small pressure on his back.
He could remember.
He could remember the heated gaze of Jang Ilso when he was on his knees, kneeling infront of Cheong myeong.
He could remember the scent reminiscent of a smoky firewood coming from Jang Ilso.
He could remember the crimson lips curling into a hot grin, pearly white teeth on full display, and those fangs looked like they wanted to sink into his neck.
He could remember the battered breaths of Jang Ilso as they fought together, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, moving together as a singular unit as they synced up.
He could remember the trust swirling in Jang Ilso's grey eyes when he passed by him during the final battle with the bishop.
He could remember the large hand pressing onto his back before his final step — reassuring and warm, strong and powerful; it felt comforting amidst the pain and frenzy of the battle, consoling him infinitely and giving him the strength he needed just for that one final swing.
Ironically, he felt safe around the latter. It was a contradiction Cheong myeong didn't want to admit, but alas, here he was, facing the full brunt of his feelings with a letter kept close to his heart.
Cheong myeong knew, he knew that something was bubbling between them — something unknown, something he could not comprehend, something he could not label but he knew it was there. It boiled when things got tensed, threatening to spill over like an overfilled cauldron, a hazard that was equally dangerous yet tempting; like a sin worth indulging in.
Cheong myeong was observant, so he would always notice Jang Ilso's gaze following his every movement whenever they were together. The gaze he received from the man was comparatively different from the gazes he had received in the past and the present, and it intrigued him. He was drawn to it, the look in Jang Ilso's eyes, like a moth to a flame.
The disciple groaned, a resigned sigh slipping past his lips as he took yet another swig of alcohol. Cheong myeong stared at the moon, his cheeks burning the reddest they would go when he recalled Jang Ilso kneeling before him, under the shady tree, with a perfervid look in his eyes for what seemed like the nth time that night.
"Please help me. Please. Please. Please", the latter said.
Cheong myeong wanted to deny the fact that Jang Ilso's voice sounded hypnotic to his ears.