Hyeon-jin realized one thing after returning to the past.
"There's no life in Wudang."
When he had been Sect Leader, everyone had struggled as one to keep the fallen sect standing. But now Wudang was completely different.
"No spirit, no drive."
Senior brothers wasted away the hours that should have been spent sweating and bleeding in training, only groaning as if they were dying.
"Should I beat them?"
Other sects beat their juniors without hesitation, but how could he strike senior brothers who were like the sky itself? All he could do was hope they stumbled into his hands.
"I'll need another way."
If he were still Sect Leader, he could thunder down commands to change them. But as the second-generation disciple he was now, there was little he could do.
The method he chose was leading by example.
He trained harder than anyone, pouring out sweat and blood.
As time passed, not only his fellow disciples but even the elders began to acknowledge him one by one. His burning spirit breathed a strange vitality into Wudang.
Of course, not everyone liked him. A protruding stone takes the hammer first. Some regarded his change as a thorn in their eyes.
"That brat's strutting around too much lately."
"Did the kid eat something foul? Why's he acting crazy?"
"Hey, talk won't fix this. When a young one starts climbing, you step on him."
Three men in their late teens gathered, glaring at him. They were from the same generation of disciples, though two or three years older.
But they trained in a different hall, under different masters. Even within Wudang, disciples of the same generation often never met if their masters differed. Naturally, cliques and rivalries had formed.
And these three were infamous for their foul tempers.
Hyeon-jin noticed their stares as well.
They're the same as before. Already plotting something, are they?
He didn't need to taste their malice to know it wasn't good-willed. Back then, their faction's scheming had done no small part in weakening Wudang. They had even fiercely opposed his rise as Sect Leader.
Still, I'm curious. What trick will they try this time?
Leaving the training grounds, he allowed himself a faint smile.
This situation hadn't existed in his previous life—back then, he had never drawn such attention. He already expected an incident would break out soon, but rather than worry, his chest throbbed strangely with excitement.
In the past he had pretended not to see, pretended it didn't hurt, even when trampled. He had only been the slightly clever boy. Too timid to speak back when scolded, meek to a fault. He had been made Sect Leader simply because his calculations were quick and he bowed too easily under pressure. He had been easy to handle.
But this time he had no intention of living that way again.
By afternoon, as he returned to his quarters from training, he caught sight of a young girl carrying a laundry tub.
Hyeon-mi, junior sister?
His eyes widened.
Hyeon-mi was an outer disciple his own age. Senior Uncle Cheong-gi had brought her back from an assignment outside the sect. Bandits had killed her village, leaving her orphaned. With no place else, Cheong-gi had allowed her to stay as an outer disciple.
But in truth, "outer disciple" was little more than a servant's position. Wudang's monastic tradition did not admit female disciples, so she had been forced into menial labor.
The problem was… around this time, she had taken her own life.
Hyeon-jin's dazed eyes followed her until he saw her suddenly stop, startled, face turning red, body stiff with fear. His gaze shifted to where hers had fallen.
A group of young men approached, like jackals scenting prey.
A shiver of realization struck him. Sparks seemed to flash from his eyes.
Damn it. I'd forgotten you…
Among them, one figure stood out: tall, handsome, sharply featured. His senior brother, Hyeon-mu.
He was training in another hall, but among the second-generation disciples his martial skill ranked high. He was popular among the disciples, respected as strong and capable.
But Hyeon-jin remembered all too well. Though Hyeon-mi's death had first been dismissed as suicide from hardship, the truth had later come out—because Hyeon-mu had bragged about it in drunken pride.
The memory burned him anew.
And you call yourself a Daoist disciple? You dare call yourself human?
He barely suppressed the urge to rush forward and cut him down.
Hyeon-mu stepped closer, smirking.
"Getting by alright these days?"
Hyeon-mi kept her lips pressed tight, eyes wide with terror.
He bent close, pretending to examine the laundry, but his gaze fell shamelessly to her chest.
"Shouldn't you answer when asked, junior sister?"
His hand reached out. She flinched away, but he seized her shoulder and whispered,
"It's just a touch. Nothing will wear away."
She pleaded, trembling, "Senior brother, please don't…"
He only laughed. "If you resist, it makes me look like the villain. It's only a little fun."
He lunged again, shoving his hand roughly—when suddenly—
"Ah!"
With a startled cry, someone crashed onto his back. Consumed with his prey, he hadn't noticed, and was shoved forward, face-first into the wash-stream.
He leapt up sputtering, and turned—
"H-Hyeon-jin? You bastard…!"
Hyeon-jin scratched his head innocently.
"Senior brother, are you alright? I've been practicing light-step techniques lately… stopping is tricky. Forgive me."
"Light-step?" Hyeon-mu ground his teeth, dripping like a drowned rat.
"Again, apologies for bumping you. But… what exactly were you doing here?"
"You—accident?" His glare burned.
"Oh come now, senior brother. You think I would deliberately shove you into a stream?"
Then, his eyes hardened.
"Unless… you were up to something improper. Why else would junior sister be trembling so?"
Color drained from Hyeon-mu's face.
"W-what nonsense is this?!"
"Nothing happened? Truly?"
"I told you, nothing! Why would I touch such a wretch?"
"Touch her? So you admit the thought at least?"
"Damn it, I said I didn't!"
Hyeon-jin ignored him and turned to Hyeon-mi.
"Are you alright, junior sister?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks, body shaking like a leaf.
Hyeon-jin's gaze snapped back.
"A dog's habits never change. What exactly did you do to make her like this?"
"You insolent—!"
He turned suddenly to one of Hyeon-mu's followers.
"Tell me, Hyeon-o. Isn't he famous for drooling after any pretty woman who comes near?"
The younger disciple panicked, eyes darting.
"N-no, not exactly…"
"Shut up!" Hyeon-mu roared.
"Why scare a junior disciple like that?" Hyeon-jin stepped forward smoothly.
Hyeon-mu's glare sharpened.
"You brat. Just because the elders favor you, you think yourself bold? Today I'll put you back in your place."
"Which senior brother will do that? You, Hyeon-mu? Come now. Better leave before you embarrass yourself. Getting beaten by a junior isn't much honor."
His taunt only deepened the flush on Hyeon-mu's face. He lunged furiously.
Hyeon-jin slid aside, tugging his robe while swinging a leg—squarely into the space between his thighs.
Thud.
"Ughhh!"
Hyeon-mu doubled over, eyes bulging with pain.
"Oh dear, I only meant for your knee. Why lean forward like that?"
Feigning innocence, Hyeon-jin stepped aside—straight onto Hyeon-mu's outstretched hand.
"Argh!"
Sharp gravel bit into his palm under the weight.
"Ah, senior brother! Why put your hand there of all places? You must be careful."
Veins throbbed on Hyeon-mu's forehead. The pain told him bones might truly be broken.
"You… bastard…"
But Hyeon-jin ignored him, turning instead to the younger.
"Hyeon-o, take him quickly. And stop following him around—better not get caught in his disasters."
"Y-yes, senior brother."
"And senior brother, please get that hand treated. A broken palm makes holding a sword difficult. You don't hate me for this little accident, do you?"
Hyeon-mu could only grind his teeth, hatred blazing. He wanted revenge, but his injured hand left him powerless.
Just you wait, you dog…
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End of Chapter 4
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