CRD 04

Chapter 4 

“…….”

Murong Cheon stared at the main gate, his face dazed, as if his soul had left his body.

But only for a moment.

“Hey.”

“Yes!”

“Did you actually come here?”

“Y-Yes!”

Murong Cheon contorted his face and spoke in a grim tone.

“So this is the main house?”

“……Yes.”

“If you’re caught lying, you’ll lose a hand. Are you sure this is really the Murong family?”

“W-Why would I lie? This is indeed the young master’s house!”

Jang-gu screamed internally. Well, you know that better than anyone!

In truth, he didn’t even understand why this scrawny debtor had insisted on being shown to his own house. He had just come here blindly out of fear.

Murong Cheon stared at the gate with bulging eyes.

‘This is the main house?’

Even if this were a branch of the Murong family, no way would it be so poorly maintained.

The Murong estate he was looking at now was shockingly ordinary. If only there had been cobwebs in the gate cracks or cracks in the walls, it might have jolted him awake.

‘This is too plain!’

It looked like any random manor you could pass by anywhere—completely ordinary.

That made it all the more shocking. To Murong Cheon, who grew up seeing the grand, majestic main house of the Murong family in Liaoning, this estate looked like a curse in itself.

“This is unbelievable!”

His heart raced with every possible emotion as the faces of unknown descendants came to mind.

If this is how I feel, imagine how those other descendants, forced to relocate, must have felt. They must have been far more heartbroken than I was.

Yes, that’s probably true. But……

But!

‘This is still too much!’

Murong Cheon grabbed the back of his neck and glanced up at the place where the signboard should have been.

‘Good heavens… there’s not even a signboard.’

Any proper manor at least displayed its name, usually on a plaque. Yet here, there was nothing.

No grandeur, no legacy, no signboard—nothing.

Murong Cheon stood there, completely dumbfounded, while Jang-gu timidly whispered.

“You… young master.”

“…….”

“Um… may I leave now?”

“…….”

“Young master?”

“Go.”

“Huh?”

Murong Cheon shouted in frustration.

“Don’t be noisy! Go! Get out!”

Startled, Jang-gu stumbled backward along the path he had come. With each step, the old, forgotten pain crept back into him.

At the same time, his anger toward Murong Cheon began to resurface.

‘Just wait! I’ll skin you alive!’

After sending Jang-gu away, Murong Cheon grabbed his head.

“Damn it! This can’t be a dream, right?”

In a way, he could feel somewhat relieved. At least it didn’t seem like the family had completely vanished. But that made the shock even worse…

Letting go of his hair, which he had gripped as if to tear it out, he took a deep breath.

“Calm down, calm down.”

This is reality.

No matter how much he tugged at his hair or chewed at his lips, reality wouldn’t change.

Murong Cheon, bloodshot-eyed, glared at the gate and took another deep breath.

Today, he had really taken a lot of deep breaths.

‘Let’s go in.’

He reminded himself not to keep being shocked. The very fact that they had moved to Hubei was already shocking enough.

‘Maybe this isn’t even the main house. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.’

Murong Cheon knocked on the gate, looking slightly tense.

After a moment:

“Who is it?”

The hoarse voice carried the weight of time and age.

Murong Cheon cleared his throat several times, opening his mouth to speak, then suddenly froze.

‘Wait.’

He realized he didn’t even know this person’s name.

‘Damn it! I should have asked his name first.’

The shock of reality had robbed him of such basic thought.

Then, the voice spoke again, louder this time.

“Are you the young master, by any chance?”

“Ah… y-yes.”

The words came out polite and automatic.

Clang!

The gate opened, and an old man stepped out.

He had a bent back and a thin frame, and though he looked too weak even to lift a hoe, his face bore deep scars running diagonally across it.

The old man fussed with excitement.

“Young master! Why are you so late returning?”

“…….”

“Come in quickly. You haven’t been drinking, I hope?”

“Ah……”

“Please enter your room and rest. I will prepare a meal immediately.”

Murong Cheon stepped over the gate, guided by the old man, and instinctively said:

“Guo… sir?”

Old Guo laughed.

“Guo? It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that. Haha.”

Murong Cheon gaped like a fish.

‘It really is Guo?’

Guo Haokyun.

He had been a retainer and personal bodyguard of Murong Heon, the elder brother of Murong Cheon, and was known as the most loyal servant in Liaoning.

Naturally, as a personal bodyguard of the family head, he had been extremely skilled. Yet now, he appeared as a frail old man.

‘Martial arts…?’

Murong Cheon’s hands trembled as he observed Guo.

He wasn’t even close to a martial arts master now; he couldn’t even walk like a normal person. His right leg seemed severely injured, and there was none of the presence or aura a martial arts expert would carry.

‘No internal energy either.’

Murong Cheon stopped in front of him.

“Why is it like this, Guo?”

“Ah, please, young master.”

“……Alright.”

Guo laughed and patted his thigh.

“No pain at all.”

Indeed, when he patted the thigh, it didn’t hurt.

‘Seems like it’s the calf.’

It was clear the injury ran from ankle to calf. He didn’t examine closely, but surely every step still caused him pain.

Murong Cheon lowered his head involuntarily.

‘This man…’

Whatever the circumstances, the family had moved to Hubei, and the house had shrunk. Still, Guo had chosen to remain loyal. Though aged, his eyes were as sharp as before.

‘Damn it.’

With a bitter sigh, Murong Cheon raised his head again.

“Let’s go.”

His steps slowed—not just from fatigue, but out of instinct to help Guo along.

‘Now I finally understand.’

Seeing Guo old and frail, Murong Cheon fully accepted that he had really fallen twenty years into the future.

‘Focus. I have returned to the family. This is reality now.’

Glancing at Murong Cheon, Guo cautiously asked:

“You seem… different, young master.”

“Hm?”

“You seem changed.”

Changed? The family had changed far more than he had.

“I’ve realized that reality feels like a dream. Life doesn’t follow my will.”

Guo responded earnestly.

“That’s always the case. The martial world is even worse. People kill for fun, for boredom, or because they’re in a bad mood. Parents abandon children, children kill parents.”

I know.

He had realized that long before becoming a martial arts leader. As a child, the family treated him as a test subject, forcing him to learn forbidden arts.

Even if you are illegitimate, blood is blood—and he had spent ten years being used as an incomplete martial arts experiment. That’s the martial world.

And the one who had changed the family from its roots? Me and my elder brother.

Now, he saw the remnants of a family starting to walk the right path.

Guo smiled and continued:

“It’s been a long time since we walked together like this. Since you’re here, shall we go see Miss Sujŏng?”

Murong Cheon froze.

“Who?”

“Miss Sujŏng. She worries about you even while handling the acting family head duties, you know that.”

That name… sounded familiar.

‘Sujŏng, Sujŏng… huh?!’

Murong Cheon muttered:

“Is that Sujŏng?”

Guo gasped and whispered:

“She’s your elder sister, young master. You shouldn’t speak so casually.”

Murong Cheon didn’t hear Guo’s voice clearly.

‘Daeho’s daughter?’

Murong Sujŏng.

She was the daughter of Murong Daeho, the son of his elder brother Murong Heon, and his great-grandniece.

When he last visited the family while bedridden, she had been a newborn.

‘Could it be…?!’

If Sujŏng is the elder sister, then the current young master is her great-granduncle.

That would mean she is part of Heon’s bloodline.

“Brother… no.”

“Eh?”

“What about grandfather?”

Guo’s face darkened.

Even in the dim light, his expression was painfully clear.

“Of course, you haven’t forgotten. The great-grandfather’s memorial is in five days.”

“……!”

Murong Cheon felt dizzy.

‘Brother… has passed away?!’

He might have unconsciously known. If Heon were alive, the family wouldn’t have come to this state.

The fact he had been denying now hit him like a tidal wave, shaking his heart.

“Are you alright, young master?”

“……Ancestral hall.”

“Eh?”

“Where was the ancestral hall?”

Even if the family had declined, the hall to honor ancestors should still exist.

Guo hesitated but said nothing, realizing the young master was too shocked.

“Follow me.”

Shortly after:

“Here we are.”

It was a tiny shrine.

Murong Cheon burst through the door as if to smash it.

Rows of memorial tablets lined the floor. The darkness made it hard to read the names.

“Just a moment, young master.”

Guo skillfully lit some candles. He always carried a lighter, it seemed.

Once several candles were lit, the hall brightened.

“Step aside for a moment.”

“Yes, young master.”

Murong Cheon’s gaze fell on the central tablet.

‘Murong Hwang.’

The Murong family had a unique way of arranging memorial tablets.

The top center tablet was the ancestor Murong Hwang, then each family head in order from left to right. Once one row was full, the next row followed, and so on.

Murong Cheon nervously scanned the last row’s rightmost tablet.

‘Daeho?!’

Murong Daeho.

To his shock, the tablet of his own nephew and son of his elder brother Heon was there.

He recalled Guo’s words:

‘You haven’t forgotten. The great-grandfather’s memorial is in five days.’

If Heon was the great-grandfather, then Daeho was the previous head.

‘This can’t be. Why is Daeho here too?’

In the prime of life, as a martial artist, he should have been at his peak, yet Daeho was dead.

Murong Cheon turned his head left.

“……!!”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Brother.”

The tablet of Murong Heon imprinted clearly in his mind.

‘So he really is gone.’

His elder brother—the only one who treated him as a person and a brother—was gone. And his nephew Daeho too.

Murong Cheon opened his eyes and looked at Heon’s tablet again.

“……Huh.”

The fact this was really the Murong family, the family had declined in just twenty years, and the brother he shared true affection with had passed—he felt utterly drained.

‘I survived, but why did brother die?’

A small tablet was now the only thing representing his brother. He sighed, a torrent of grief spilling like a waterfall.

He recalled their last conversation:

“Hey, are you busy? Why haven’t you visited?”

“Well, I thought about quitting the martial arts leader position.”

“Haha, I would prefer that, but many still expect your ability to revive the main house.”

“You did everything, brother. What did I do?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course not.”

“Hahaha!”

The hearty laughter echoed like a memory.

‘Brother…’

Though twenty years later, to him, it was barely a day. He couldn’t even figure out what expression to wear.

Murong Cheon, wearing a bitter expression, caressed Heon’s tablet for a long time. Then he noticed the quality of the tablet—it was better than the others.

‘Why… only brother’s?’

He turned it sideways, then looked at the back.

“…….”

A tear he hadn’t shed in decades fell.

On the back of Murong Heon’s tablet were seventeen characters, written in bold, valiant strokes:

Former Martial Arts Alliance Leader
Bright Martial Master, Murong Cheon
Co-Head of the Family.