Chapter Text
Jo Gul could still remember the feeling—dangling from the ceiling, head jammed into a beam, senses slowly fading to black.
Truly... an enlightening night.
The beginning of his character development, as some would kindly put it. In less poetic terms: he got humbled (read: beaten) real quick. His eyes still felt strangely sweaty whenever the memory resurfaced.
To this day, he couldn’t remember much after the moment he was punched skyward. But judging from the sorry state of his fellow sajaes and sahyungs the next morning, they had all been kneaded like dough by that demon of a newcomer.
All he wanted was to teach the kid a lesson for barging into his room uninvited...
Sigh.
And Yun Jong sahyung? That luck sahyung. The great Daesahyung! Spared by thiiiiis much. Jo Gul swore the gods must’ve rolled a dice for that one. Unfortunately, his luck ran out right after. The moment he snapped awake—
SLAP.
Right across the face. Not by Chung Myung.
By his own brothers.
Where was the camaraderie? The loyalty? The sacred bond of shared suffering?
Gone. Thrown out the window the second Chung Myung ordered, "Wake him up."
Sigh... these bastards.
At least they got beat worse. Small comforts.
...
Where was he again? Ah—
Right.
It had been nearly two years since the Huazhong conference.
And recently, the second and third-class disciples had gathered to conduct a… thorough investigation. A log. An observational study of their beloved sajil while he is still in seclusion at the caves.
Because honestly? No one knew where the hell Chung Myung came from.
“He arrived in rags, right? Maybe he’s an orphan? Is that why he acts like a mad dog?” one third-class disciple had whispered.
"No! Beggars are more docile than he is!" Said yoon jong, a former beggar too.
“And how does he know Mount Hua’s techniques? We all know only second-class disciples can make the Plum Blossom Sword bloom if we look onto the past. And He's only been at the sect for like two month's back then! ”
“I still don’t get how he overpowered Jin Geumryong’s Snowflower Storm. It was epic—but weird!”
“Unless he’s a prodigy.”
“Wrong. Prodigies don’t use boulders the size of a storage shed for training. He’s not just a genius—he’s a monster in human skin,” someone muttered solemnly.
"...Honestly, that tracks."
“Yeah, totally.”
“But that still doesn’t explain how he found the sect’s secret ledgers,” Baek Sang pointed out.
“He really thought we believed he just 'stumbled' across them?” a third-class disciple scoffed.
“The sect leader didn’t press him on it, but…” Baek Cheon sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’ve all had suspicions.”
..
...
Then someone—an unfortunate second-class disciple—muttered,
“Could he be a spy?”
Silence.
“Are you an idiot?” Baek Cheon snapped. “He’d throw himself off a cliff if anyone sullied Mount Hua’s name. No, wait—he’d throw you off instead. And enjoy it.”
No one could deny it: only a lunatic possessed that kind of fanatical love for their sect.
April ×× year ××××
-Chung myung was a former beggar and orphan *1
- beaten up his sahyungs
- no respect for hierarchy.
- cracked eleven heads on day one.
Note: (1)must be where he picked up his feral nature