Chung Myung's head snapped toward the voice.
"Ah…."
There are people here!
For the first time since his rebirth a month ago, he felt hope. Mount Hua, which he'd assumed was dead, still had life.
Screeeech—
The rotting wooden gate groaned as it creaked open. A middle-aged Taoist in a black Daoist crown peeked through the gap.
"..."
"What's a child doing here?"
A Taoist.
Chung Myung's eyes widened. The man's choice to call him "child" instead of "beggar" confirmed he was a true disciple of Mount Hua.
"How… did you climb here alone?"
"Uh… well…."
Chung Myung hesitated.
'I just… climbed?'
He wanted to boast that perseverance conquers all, but his skeletal frame made any explanation suspect. Instead, he seized control of the conversation.
"Before that, may I ask something?"
"Hm?"
The Taoist blinked, understandably baffled. A child surviving this deadly climb only to interrogate him?
"Are you a disciple of Mount Hua?"
"...How do you know our sect's name?"
"So you are?"
"For now, yes."
Chung Myung exhaled in relief.
'It's not completely destroyed!'
Though teetering on collapse, the sect still breathed. That was enough.
"Come inside."
"Huh?"
The Taoist smiled kindly. "Night is falling. The mountain's cold will kill you if you stay out. We don't take outsiders, but we won't abandon a guest who knows our name."
Chung Myung blinked.
This easy?
Of course—why would they fear a starved, half-dead child?
"If you've no companions or plans, rest here. We'll talk later."
Chung Myung's throat tightened.
Though Mount Hua's martial glory had faded, its Taoist heart still beat.
"Thank you for your kindness."
Bowing slightly, he followed the Taoist inside.
─────
The courtyard stretched before him, stirring memories.
'This training ground…'
Once paved with pristine white granite, now only dirt remained.
"Where… where is the Qinggang stone?!"
His voice cracked. The stone, once deemed too extravagant by his frugal Eldest Brother, had been a symbol of Mount Hua's pride.
"Sold, I suppose," he muttered, fists shaking.
'Priorities. Survival matters more than stone.'
But his composure shattered when he noticed the Jincheongung Hall—gone.
"What happened here?!"
"Ah," the Taoist sighed. "The buildings… were lost to time."
"Lost? How?!"
"A long story, child."
'I'm no child!' Chung Myung screamed inwardly. 'I helped build those halls!'
Worse awaited in the Okcheon Hall, where the sect's founder, Grandmaster Hak Daetong, was enshrined.
The hall was barren. No golden candleholders, no calligraphy scrolls—only a simple portrait and incense burner.
Then Chung Myung noticed it.
"The… the flower! Where is it?!"
"Flower?"
"The white metal plum blossom! Mount Hua's sacred relic!"
The Taoist tilted his head. "Ah, that odd trinket? Sold it to a merchant. It was useless here."
"S-SOLD?!"
Anhyeongbaek Maehwa—the Dark Fragrance White Plum Blossom. One of Mount Hua's Two Divine Treasures, said to hold the sect's essence.
'You sold our soul for coin?!'
Chung Myung's vision blurred.
"Y-You fools…!"
Exhaustion and despair collided. Darkness swallowed him as he crumpled, the ghost of his Eldest Brother's horrified face the last thing he saw.