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When Cheong Myeong died, he died with regret and sorrow. Even though he beheaded the Heavenly Demon, Cheon Ma’s last words made his heart stutter and his mouth dry. Even after all of the battles and this horrible war, Cheon Ma was not done with tormenting Cheong Myeong.
There would be no end to the grief that was caused by the demonic cultists, and the being they worshipped like a god promised he would be back.
Cheong Myeong had no room to think about that as he died, though. He was too busy remembering his sajae and sajil. Corpses littered the area. Cheong Myeong was pillowed by their lifeless bodies as he, too, bled out.
This was the worst death that Cheong Myeong could imagine.
He could not think of a scenario that topped this. He was dying, unable to stop anything at all, with no knowledge if the children back in the sect were safe and unharmed. He had no idea what the future would look like or if Mount Hua would continue to bloom. He was stuck, dying, in a heap of regret with no voice or ability to fight it.
And he mourned as the last one alive. The last one to die… Hah, Sect Leader-sahyeong would have told him to try to survive the longest, but Cheong Myeong didn’t like that. He never wanted to be the last.
He was supposed to be one of the first to die. He was supposed to protect those younger than him, protect them in every way possible.
As he exhaled for a final time, all he could think about were the good times, but even then, they became clouded in darkness.
Thoughts about Cheong Mun’s laughter only made Cheong Myeong remember the way Cheong Mun looked without an arm, his torso a bloody mess of muscle and organs. Any memory of Cheong Jin made Cheong Myeong despair over never finding his body. So many had died, and for what?
Mount Hua was unlikely to survive or thrive. Cheong Myeong was realistic as his heart came to a stop. Children could not master and learn their techniques. Cheong Mun wanted them to give it their all, and they did, they truly did. Every single Mount Hua disciple was dead now, weren’t they? There was nothing else to give.
Ah…
Cheong Myeong would cry if he weren’t dead already.
If he had trained more, not just goofed around, and did as Baek Oh asked, would he be stronger? If he didn’t drink so much, would he have been able to protect his family? If he had been swifter and faster, would there be others to continue their legacy?
He owned his entire life to Mount Hua. He knew nothing outside of the sect. His first word was “sahyeong” and his last words were… his last words were yelling and cursing at his sahyeong for putting Mount Hua in this situation. He was so awful, wasn’t he? Sahyeong never meant for this to happen. If he was still alive, he would be telling Cheong Myeong off, knocking him on the head, before telling Cheong Myeong he was proud.
It was awful, this idea of Cheong Mun still loving him. It was fake, and all in Cheong Myeong’s head. Yet, it gave him closer. The idea that Cheong Mun loved him was still true. Cheong Myeong could only hope he showed that he returned that love.
Death was the better scenario here. It could have been worse, right? He could be the lone survivor, the only Elder left alive, the last plum blossom swordsman to exist. Hell was awaiting for him, probably, but as long as he saw Cheon Ma there too, then Cheong Myeong figured it wouldn't be so bad.
But… But he did not die.
His life flashed before him. It was diluted, almost, with his memories so fast.
Cheong Jin’s weary smile and Cheong Mun’s yells made Cheong Myeong want to both laugh and cry. Zhongnan’s pompousness made Cheong Myeong’s knuckles itch, and the reminder of Shaolin Monks drinking with him only made him crave the feeling of meat between his teeth. Dang Bo’s red cheeks as they cheered their cups together made Cheong Myeong forget their gruesome deaths for a moment.
So much happened in his lifetime. Wasn’t it strange to think that he fought in a war? He started off so slow; so innocent and sheltered. He was raised in Mount Hua. All of his memories revolve around the sect. There was nothing more vital to his life than Mount Hua.
So why was he waking up to the feeling of his head being bashed in?
Cheong Myeong felt the smack reverberate throughout his body. His head did not have any reprieve. This felt so familiar. He needed to smack someone six times. His hand twitched as he readied his fist and opened his mouth to yell, but he was stopped as another smack came over his head.
Cheong Myeong earned a reprieve, but his sanity did not last long. His body could not block the attacks once they started again. The child that was swinging at him should have been no match, but Cheong Myeong’s arms were too short. He was too short in general to be who he was supposed to be.
As he nursed his wounds, a beggar came to him. Cheong Myeong was going to chase off the child, not in the mood for it. He had just come to the realization that he was reincarnated, just like the thing that monks believed in. He needed to come to terms with that.
Yet, the beggar, Gu Chil, could provide him with important information. Cheong Myeong glared at Gu Chil, who let Cheong Myeong be beaten, but he didn’t hate the child. He was annoyed. He could still feel blood on his skin. He was supposed to be dead, why wasn’t he—
“Have you heard of Mount Hua?” he asked, snappish and irked.
Gu Chil blinked, and then blinked again. His lip jutted out in fear. He exclaimed, “Why are you speaking about that!” His voice turned harsher as he whispered, “We aren’t supposed to talk about that sect!”
Cheong Myeong stopped looking into the river so that he could inspect his appearance. He knew it was going to be bad. Only children were left behind during the final battle. But surely there would be survivors, surely—
“The war against the Magyo ended that sect. If you don’t want to end up being killed by the demonic cultists, then you aren’t supposed to even utter their name.”
His fears were true. “So Mount Hua—”
“Shut it!” Gu Chil was almost red in the face. He looked fearful. “You are going to get us cursed! Their ghosts are going to choke you to death!”
A ghost was standing right in front of you, you brat!
Cheong Myeong huffed through his nose. He was provided the information he was so scared to have confirmed. Cheon Ma was defeated; there was no Magyo currently, but in return, there was also no Mount Hua.
Despair clung to him like an old friend, enveloping in his hug from behind. It was like a cloak that only he could see and feel. Despair rooted itself against him, seeping into his skin, hiding him from anything else.
Gu Chil continued, his voice frazzled, “No one speaks of that sect unless they want the Magyo to rise up again. Even if it’s an old tale that only beggars really talk about— It’s still not right! Everyone knows not to mess with sects that were wiped away during the war.”
He had his confirmation. It was not enough.
Cheong Myeong needed to see it for himself. Was there anything left? A single thing would have to be enough. Cheong Myeong didn’t care if the pavilion was standing or if any of their gifts stood. He just wanted to see Mount Hua and have a shred of what was once there. He needed to go, he needed to see it.
Traveling to Mount Hua took him a month. He walked through the village at the bottom of the mountain to rest before climbing the rest of the way. He begged for food, but at least he had nicer robes that he stole from those awful beggar children who beat people over the heads for no reason. They needed to learn directions as well.
When he found a stick to help him walk up the rough terrain, he was rejuvenated. His energy and qi settled. He reached the top of the mountain before sunset, though it was cold being so high up in the air.
He knew he should have expected nothing, but instead, he was greeted with a sect that was covered in dust and cobwebs.
Cheong Myeong abandoned his walking stick as he jumped up and brushed the webs away from Mount Hua’s sign. Cheong Mun would be upset if he knew it had remained covered in filth for so long. Cheong Myeong then dropped to the ground and turned to the gate. It was falling apart but it was still, somehow, more than Cheong Myeong expected.
He creaked open the gate just enough for him to slip through. His eyes widened as he looked around to see that the sect was mostly intact. Some buildings were gone, abolished as if they were never there. Cheong Myeong didn’t know what could have happened to them.
He did not expect there to be anything left standing. If Mount Hua was a sect full of ghosts and resentment, then why did it look as if the only thing wrong was the upkeep? If Cheong Myeong squinted his eyes, he would half believe that all of the disciples had turned in for the night to get rest, and nothing else.
Cheong Myeong listlessly inspected every residence and every room. Everything was old and creaking. No upkeep was done. Cheong Myeong did not rest even as the sun began to set and the moon crept into the sky until he searched every single room for a sign of life.
He only stopped once he reached the sect leader’s residence. He stood outside the doors with trembling fists by his sides. He sucked in a breath before pushing open the doors. He barely made it a step inside before he was kneeling on the ground with tears in his eyes.
He left the residence and sat outside.
The moon illuminated Mount Hua, providing it with the light that it needed. There was so much to do. Cheong Myeong wasn’t sure if he could fix this. It would take a lot of time, that was for sure. Cheong Myeong sighed as he leaned back. At least he had enough time to get at least a few things in order.
He looked at the night stars and then slowly sat up. He couldn’t waste any time. He would have to start cultivating and training more now than ever before. He would bring back Mount Hua until it thrived, until it could stand solidly even if he wasn’t there.
Months passed gently and much too quickly for Cheong Myeong’s liking. He used his skills to do more construction than anything. Agh, if Cheong Mun could see him now, he would be chuckling as Cheong Myeong chopped wood to fix the dorms.
Cheong Myeong’s days passed quickly. There was too much to do. He was training and he was surviving. He was rebuilding Mount Hua as he cultivated his own skills. He knew Mount Hua like the back of his hand, and after he opened the vault, it was easier to figure things out.
Mount Hua techniques survived, but only some of them. No one alive would know the true plum blossom swordsmanship. It left a bitter, metallic taste in Cheong Myeong’s mouth.
There was a rustle within the breeze. Cheong Myeong dipped his head to the side, inhaled, and focused his qi.
He was shocked when he felt the amount of qi that was nearing Mount Hua. He was frozen for a moment, not believing what he was seeing. As soon as he got past his shock, he moved quickly, maybe too quickly, as he turned into a blur.
He only came to a stop when the unfamiliar person opened the gate to Mount Hua without preamble. Cheong Myeong climbed in a tree, observing for a moment.
The man was unfamiliar yet his identity was unmistakable. Those green robes, the bitter scent of poison, the blackened fingertips—
It was a Dang who was interested in what Mount Hua looked like now. Cheong Myeong’s breath hitched. He was so terribly reminded of Dang Bo, his one and only friend dying in his arms with a smile that would have better suited a drunken rendezvous. Cheong Myeong was frozen in place as the Dang moved through the grounds with a somber sigh.
Cheong Myeong wasn’t sure what he expected. He was interested in why a Dang member was here, though. What purpose did it serve?
Cheong Myeong bit his lip. He hadn’t realized that his grip on the plum blossom branch below him was too tight. Splinters filled his palm and the branch broke off. Cheong Myeong caught himself, but he could not stop what happened next.
The branch fell to the ground, making the Dang member turn around with narrow eyes, his hand already in his sleeve as he prepared for an attack.
That kid… He was definitely a Dang. Cheong Myeong was sure of it now. He was sure of it before, but there was no mistaking it. Dang Bo’s teachings continued even after he died. Cheong Myeong swallowed a bump in his throat, trying to discard how awful he felt as hope sparked in his chest.
“... A child?” The Dang sounded surprised and hesitant, though he did not remove his hand from his sleeve.
He walked forward, looking at the branch and at Cheong Myeong patiently. He was old enough to be a somebody, Cheong Myeong supposed, but the Dang didn’t have the feel of a truly old cultivator. Though, that could have been because he was trying not to frighten who he assumed was a youthful boy.
Cheong Myeong dropped from the tree, landing with a soft thump. He looked at the Dang through his bangs, still wondering why a Dang member would show up to Mount Hua so randomly.
The Dang edged forward, his steps silent and careful. Cheong Myeong was so proud. It was good to be cautious of everyone even if they looked innocent. Dang Bo was the spitting image of innocence until Cheong Myeong got injured, and then Dang Bo was practically a demon as he barked orders and stuck Cheong Myeong with needle after needle.
The Dang coughed, clearing his throat. “What is a child doing here?” His lips were pursed. “Are you a beggar, perhaps?”
Cheong Myeong supposed that was feasible. Why else would a child be in Mount Hua, an abandoned and desolate sect? Hah… So humiliating. Plum Blossom Swordsmen were once revered throughout the lands. Cheong Myeong’s heart was heavy and desolate as he looked at the Dang.
“Or,” continued the Dang, “are you here for a reason?” There was a knowing edge in his tone. He stepped forward some more, staring Cheong Myeong in his pink eyes. “Are you a descendant of Mount Hua?”
Cheong Myeong swallowed the bile in his throat. “... You could say that.”
The Dang nodded promptly. He slowly lowered his hands, and then he gave the barest bow of his neck. It still shocked Cheong Myeong. He had been treated with no respect since he woke up in his current body. For a Dang member…
“I am Dang Gunak from the Sichuan Dang Family.” He lifted his head, his gaze heavy. “My ancestor died alongside Mount Hua. One of his wishes was for the sect and our family to become comrades.”
That was insane and incorrect. Dang Bo…! Dang Bo wanted them to be friends, true friends! He wanted them to mean something more than the word ally or comrades could ever be. Friends, that simple word, meant more than anything else. Dang Bo and Cheong Myeong knew that more than anyone else.
Dang Gunak looked at Cheong Myeong carefully, his eyes lit up oddly. He continued, “Any Mount Hua disciple shall be cared for until Mount Hua is rebuilt.”
Cheong Myeong felt like he was hallucinating. Surely this was all in jest. Dang Bo’s simple dreams and wishes would not be fulfilled so easily, would they? His chest was tight. He lifted his hand and gripped his robes painfully.
Dang Gunak looked at Cheong Myeong in silence, probably letting him take time to think it over. Cheong Myeong was supposed to be a child, but he understood what was being said. The Dang Family was offering to take him in, but that was not something Cheong Myeong would agree to unless…
“Friends,” he blurted.
Dang Gunak blinked at him. “Pardon?”
“I am Cheong Myeong of Mount Hua,” he declared, stepping forward. He squared his shoulders and focused entirely on Dang Gunak. “Mount Hua will be a friend. We would not merely be comrades. Comrades and allies can abandon each other. Friends cannot.”
Cheong Myeong wasn’t sure why Dang Gunak merely looked at the sky for a moment, drifting for a moment, before meeting his gaze, but he did. The kid was weird, and that came from Cheong Myeong, so it was saying something.
“... Alright.” Dang Gunak accepted it. “As Sect Leader, I will agree to the terms. We will see Mount Hua as a friend.”
Ah… Cheong Myeong’s chest hurt so much. Sorrow filled him still but it was almost lifted as well. His painful grip on his chest sagged. He did not dare to hope, but now, he was shaking. How could he not, when he had finally fulfilled a silly wish from a silly brat?
Cheong Myeong inhaled a deep breath. “As Mount Hua’s friend, you will help me clear up some matters,” he declared.
Dang Gunak’s eyebrows drew together. “Eh… What sort of matters, dojang?”
Cheong Myeong huffed. He stalked across the training field. He felt the man’s qi follow him. Robes swished in the air as Cheong Myeong opened the sect leader’s residence and pulled out the books that he had carefully placed there as he tried to figure out how he was going to correct things.
“Mount Hua owned many of the stores in the village below the mountain,” explained Cheong Myeong. He lifted the ledgers and raised them up with his hands for Dang Gunak to see. “We need income, so we should reclaim what was Mount Hua’s.”
Dang Gunak blinked at Cheong Myeong, and then after a few moments, took the first ledger from his hands. Cheong Myeong scoffed as Dang Gunak carefully reviewed the writings.
It took too long for Dang Gunak to concur. “Mount Hua, if it still stood, would have owned these stores.” His eyebrows were high as he looked at Cheong Myeong. “What would you have me do?”
“I am going to bring back plum blossoms,” said Cheong Myeong, like it was obvious. “You will help me make Mount Hua’s revival known.”
“Mount Hua has not been spoken about in some time,” Dang Gunak said regretfully. “You will have to show proof before anyone would believe it. Even beggars would not believe you if you could not back up what you said.”
Cheong Myeong knew that, and yet he still wanted to throttle the Dang Lord. He sighed out, unsheathed his cruddy sword, and lifted it gently in the air. He then laid the blade against one of his palms. The vibrations happened slowly, so minutely, that Dang Gunak could not see what was happening.
But then one, and two, and then three, plum blossoms appeared. One after the other, again and again, plum blossoms made of qi filled the room. Dang Gunak stumbled back, his senses flooded with the scent of fresh blossoms.
Cheong Myeong looked up from his gently vibrating blade. He asked bluntly, “I am bringing plum blossoms back to Mount Hua.”
This time, Dang Gunak did not disagree. He let out a huff, almost a chuckle, and agreed with a nod.
Dang Gunak said with conviction, “I believe in Cheong Myeong dojang.”
Damn right, brat. Cheong Myeong wouldn’t let Mount Hua down further than he already had.