Hong kept walking.
“Oy,” said the voice, very irately, “didn't you hear me? Stop where you stand, or perish.”
“Yes, so where I stand, I'll stop,” Hong returned as he walked, an activity he considered to be entirely discrete in nature from ‘standing’ in a technical sense, on the grounds that the vulgar meaning of the latter implied not simply that one was upright and not sitting, but that one wasn’t actively moving. Mu shrugged and followed after him.
The road they were travelling down was a twisting one, which plunged from the puddle of the mermen on and into a deep and tulgey wood. The path meandered greatly, passing in between trees and over brooks, and had the voice chosen so it could easily have eluded Hong and Mu’s perception, escaping back into the darkness and obscurity from whence it came.
It did not choose so, but strolled out into the middle of the path, blocking Hong's way. Two of its fellows came out to join it, creating a cordon beyond which the intrepid noodle shop repairman and his humble if auditorily challenged sidekick could not pass.
They were not, of course, mere disembodied voices; Hong had encountered those before, and they were not half this rude, nor did they block your path while you were travelling innocently about your business. They were cultivators - which was really rather obvious, given their poor conduct and brash manner of speech. The three of them were the very picture of a graceful and elegant countenance, their bodies as thin as a twig, and with silk robes that fluttered in time with their long and luscious locks.
Nor were they just any three cultivators, come in from off the street to bring the usual chaos and misery to all and sundry. No, Mu recognised them at first sight - recognised them by the colours and insignias of their robes, and a dozen other signs besides; they were orthodox cultivators, and the markings on their robes indicated that they were high up in their sect. Moreover, it was a sect he knew well, if only on account of its vaunted reputation.
“The Kindness and Love Sect? What are you doing here?”
The members of the Kindness and Love Sect did not answer Mu’s innocent query. Drawing their swords, they levelled them at Hong’s head, their faces masks of furious rage.
“Do we have the displeasure of speaking with Hong Yu of the Noodle Shop Repair Sect?” The leader said, pronouncing Hong’s name as if it were a curse. Hong considered this. Were they speaking with him? He hadn’t said anything yet, so clearly no conversation was being had. Consequently, it must be said that the communication was, in fact, one-sided; they were speaking at him, not with him.
If he said this, however, then he would be formally acknowledging them, in which case they would be speaking with him. To say out loud, therefore, that as they alone were the only ones talking no one was speaking with anyone, would be to instantly make his communication false.
He could, of course, simply acknowledge the substance of their communication with a ‘yes’; Hong was not especially fond of this solution, as their question was in point of fact false at the time that they asked it, and to retroactively initiate a conversation would be to play games with time that he was, in this case, not altogether comfortable with. (Normally, of course, he didn’t mind using speech in a purely colloquial - indeed, quite vulgar - manner; but in this case he felt it was imprudent, and that their anger might be better answered by a careful and measured response.)
A third option was to respond ‘no, but you are now,’ but they’d said it was a displeasure to speak with him, and hence he felt he ought to do something to make their day better. It was only right, as someone working in the service industry.
“You are not speaking to Hong at this time.
“Instead, you are having a talk in rhyme.”
The members of the Kindness and Love Sect did not appreciate the brilliancy of Hong’s distinction, nor did they admire his expert attempt to salvage their feelings by singing at them. They glowered, horribly, their faces turning from the epitome of grace and poise into something that might be more fit on a monster, and clearly marked that they were not pleasant people, even had Hong not been there to anger them with his innocuous existence.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Hong Yu, you have courted death for the last time. Prepare to meet your-”
“WAIT,” cried Mu, totally lost. “What are you talking about? Who even are you? What has Hong done that would lead you to hunt him down? Where did you come from? For over forty chapters, there has not been even a single mention of your sect, and now here you are to threaten Hong!”
“Introducing a completely random bad guy at the start of a fight is more than acceptable in xianxia,” Hong sniffed, then whipped out his hammer and waved it at the Kindness and Love Sect member’s head. “Come, let us dance.”
“WAIT,” cried Mu once more, no more informed now than when first they’d started. “That doesn’t answer my questions in the slightest. Please, before you fight to the death, can we at least know why you hate Hong so much?”
The cultivators of the Kindness and Love Sect looked at each other, concluded the request was reasonable, and lowered their weapons. Mu breathed a sigh of relief, though strangely he felt less safe than when they’d been waving the weapons about - as if a certain fight-loving author was glaring at him from across the depths of space, furious about a fight being delayed again.
The cultivator who’d first spoken, and whose uniform marked him as the leader of the trio, pointed his blade at Hong once more. “We seek the head of Hong Yu for but one reason - it was he who slew the Young Master of the Kindness and Love Sect, five centuries ago, and has escaped punishment ever since. For five centuries he has wandered, free and safe, while our Young Master rests forever in the earth prisons, immortality beyond his reach.”
Mu looked at Hong. “Wait, you killed the Young Master of the Kindness and Love Sect?”
Hong nodded. “And I’d do it again.”
“But… why?” Mu asked, as the cultivators of the Kindness and Love Sect cried out in rage.
“Because they’re demonic cultivators,” Hong casually replied, causing the cultivators of the Kindness and Love Sect to cry out in rage again.
“The Kindness and Love Sect…? But, they’re called the Kindness and Love Sect. Don’t they love kindness and love?” Mu asked, highly confuzzled.
In reply, Hong simply drew out his copy of the Annual Noodle Shop Destruction Rate Report, this time pointing to the column marked ‘The Most Destructive Cultivation Sects’:
1. The Namgoong Clan - 43,578
2. The Kindness and Love Sect - 43,577
3. The More Evil Than The Flaming Bloody Organs Sect Sect - 41,315
4. The Mount Hua Sect - 39,888
5. Carl - 39,874
“Well what do you know,” Mu declared, “maybe you have a point. Wait, hold on a moment - ‘The More Evil Than The Flaming Bloody Organs Sect Sect’? They have a rival?”
“Who?” Said Hong, who still couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of irrelevant pissants. Mu was about to explain when the cultivator from the Kindness and Love Sect, incensed at being ignored, once more launched into his speech.
“Yes, for five centuries Hong has wandered free, but no more - for we have been sent by the elders, handpicked to hunt Hong down and end his life. Fifty years we hunted in vain, only ever reaching Hong thanks to his unwise decision to arrogantly produce the trophies of his victory over our Young Master a week ago.”
“The trophies of his victory…? What trophies?” Mu asked.
“The teacups,” the cultivator snapped. Mu had a sudden flashback to last week, when Hong had produced an antiquated set of teacups, and said they were of great importance to him.
“Those aren’t trophies. Those are just teacups I like,” Hong observed, his tone a mild rebuke.
“Teacups that you made over the corpse of our Young Master!” the cultivator from the Kindness and Love Sect replied.
“Not true. I hadn’t killed him yet; he was merely suffering and half dead,” the imperturbable Hong said. The cultivators of the Kindness and Love Sect cried out in anger once more.
“Wait… didn’t you say you made those teacups?” Mu asked, stroking his magnificent beard as he tried to recall Hong’s and his conversation. Hong nodded.
“Indeed I did. It was a fierce fight, but I emerged victorious.”
“You emerged victorious… in the teacup making contest… and that was what killed the Young Master of the Kindness and Love Sect?”
Hong stroked his wisp of a beard. “I see you do not know the lore. Clearly, it is time - time for you to learn the epic tale, the epic tale of my glorious fight against the Young Master of the Kindness and Love Sect.”