Chapter 275
Chapter 275
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 275
Chapter Title: Endless Downward Strikes
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The disciples of the Mount Hua Sect divided their usual training into three main categories.
The first was contemplating the body through deep meditation to enhance their internal energy.
The second was tempering the physique and honing external martial arts suitable for executing techniques.
And the final third.
'Sword.'
Though the Mount Hua Sect was rooted in Daoism, when people thought of them, the sword likely came to mind even before that.
It was only natural for any disciple of Mount Hua to learn the sword.
Regardless of age, gender, or generation, anyone who ascended Mount Hua strove to master swordsmanship.
As such, the sect always allocated time for sword training, and the current situation served a similar purpose.
They had brought in an outside swordsman to give the disciples varied experiences.
'Just a little longer.'
With three days at their disposal, the second-generation disciples endured Hyeok Mulin's grueling training, holding onto the hope that they would soon learn the sword.
And on the following day, the second-generation disciples broke into broad grins.
"Pick up your swords."
As expected, sword training began.
Though it wasn't led by the man called the Plum Blossom Sword Dragon, but by the nameless old man beside him, that didn't matter much.
What counted was that sword training had finally started.
So as the second-generation disciples drew their swords from their positions and awaited the old man's instructions, he moved.
"Follow my lead."
Whoosh.
Cheon Su-myeong swung his arm.
His sword path was a simple downward chop from above.
The second-generation disciples, seeing that basic motion, mimicked it exactly.
They then waited for Cheon Su-myeong's next instruction.
"Again."
"...Pardon?"
Swing it again.
At Cheon Su-myeong's voice, they swung their swords once more with puzzled looks.
But even after that.
"Again."
Whoosh!
"Again."
Whoooosh!
"Again."
Whooooosh!
The only word from Cheon Su-myeong's mouth was that one.
Even after swinging, swinging, and swinging again, he remained dissatisfied, his face impassive as he demanded the same repetitive downward chop.
"How many times have we swung now?"
"No idea. I stopped counting after three thousand."
"My arm won't even lift properly anymore..."
After repeating the same motion for several hours, their arms and shoulders ached as if they would shatter.
In that hopeless state where they couldn't see the end, they turned desperate eyes toward Hyeok Mulin, pinning their last hope on him.
As his traveling companion, he could surely intervene in this training.
They shot him pleading gazes, begging him to stop this incomprehensible downward chopping.
But.
'Heh. That's right.'
Hyeok Mulin was instead watching Cheon Su-myeong's repetitive commands with keen interest and enjoyment.
He had even forgotten that the Sword Lord was obsessed with closed-door training.
Cheon Su-myeong was, excluding Hyeok Mulin from his past life, the demonic cultivator who entered seclusion most frequently and for the longest periods in the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
'So, what is the purpose of seclusion?'
To attain enlightenment.
Or to advance faster and deeper than before, choosing seclusion as the path.
But the root of all seclusion was always the same.
Denser training.
In any seclusion, only the method of handling mind, energy, and body differed; the attitude toward training remained identical.
Thus, Cheon Su-myeong, who had undergone countless seclusions, could be seen as a training ghost in human form.
From such a man's perspective.
"Pathetic. This much is nothing."
Panting after a mere few thousand swings? It wouldn't even register.
They'd need tens of millions before he'd consider it worthwhile.
From the start, the Sword Lord tasked with their training had no intention of going easy on them.
They weren't beauties of the Cheon Clan, nor demonic cultivators.
These were disciples of the Mount Hua Sect, rivals of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult—why show them any mercy?
But he hadn't lied.
He simply wasn't satisfied, so he made them repeat it.
That was all.
Then.
Clang.
Finally, one disciple whose grip had failed dropped his sword.
At the sound, everyone paused, and he clutched his trembling arm as he spoke.
"I can't do anymore."
With someone finally voicing surrender aloud, all eyes turned to Cheon Su-myeong.
Truth be told, they all wanted to quit right then, but hadn't mustered the words.
So they quietly awaited Cheon Su-myeong's response.
Cheon Su-myeong slowly approached the one who had declared surrender.
Thud.
As he came face-to-face, the young man faltered and stammered.
"Wh-why..."
"What is the reason?"
"Pardon?"
"Is it simply because the repetitive training is too hard?"
The young man hesitated at Cheon Su-myeong's question, then shook his head.
"No. I decided to give up because pursuing a goal I can never succeed at feels too burdensome."
"A goal you can never succeed at..."
"Yes. Right now, Elder Cheon is just making us repeat the same chopping drill over and over, isn't he?"
His plea drew nods of agreement from the other second-generation disciples.
No matter how they looked at it, it was the same downward chop. They were clearly tracing the exact same sword path.
Cheon Su-myeong offered no explanation, just kept demanding the same motion.
So to them, it felt like he had no intention of passing them from the beginning, merely killing time with one endless motion.
"I see. So that's what you thought."
Cheon Su-myeong closed his wrinkled eyes briefly, lost in thought.
Soon, having reached a decision, he opened them slowly and spoke.
"Then, if I show you, will you believe?"
"...Pardon?"
"I asked if seeing someone truly trace the same sword path as mine would convince you this training isn't futile."
The second-generation disciples exchanged glances, then nodded toward him.
"Yes."
"So be it."
A faint smile curved Cheon Su-myeong's lips as his gaze shifted sideways.
Hyeok Mulin, meeting his eyes, exhaled slowly.
'So it came to this.'
As if he had foreseen this moment, Hyeok Mulin stepped forward.
He approached a nearby second-generation disciple.
"Lend it for a moment."
Taking the sword the disciple held, Hyeok Mulin stared impassively at the blade.
A moment later, without assuming any stance, he lightly swung it downward.
A straight line from top to bottom.
The second-generation disciples watching froze, their breaths catching in unison.
It was the same.
Not a single difference from the downward chop Elder Cheon had demonstrated first.
And yet, different.
Something set it apart from the chops they had gritted their teeth through until now.
'What's the difference?'
Hyeok Mulin had used the same posture, the same motion as them.
But the result was unmistakably different, though words failed to capture it.
Hyeok Mulin returned the sword and stepped back.
Cheon Su-myeong gazed at him with utmost satisfaction.
As if he had known all along that Hyeok Mulin could do it.
'Troublesome.'
Hyeok Mulin fully understood the second-generation disciples' frustration.
From the start, matching the Sword Lord's sword strike was impossible at their level.
Not even first-generation disciples or elders could do it—how could they?
From that viewpoint, claiming he never intended to pass them wasn't entirely wrong.
But unlike Hyeok Mulin's perspective, Cheon Su-myeong wore a faint smile, as if his method had been proven right.
"Looking at your faces, you seem convinced now."
They had no words.
Having witnessed Hyeok Mulin's demonstration with their own eyes, they couldn't deny it as swordsmen.
In the silence that followed, they gripped their swords once more.
"Again."
Cheon Su-myeong's subdued voice echoed endlessly until sunset.
"You must have had a hard time."
"It's been quite a while since I instructed anyone's training. It was rather enjoyable, in its own way."
After dinner, Hyeok Mulin shared tea with Cheon Su-myeong as dessert, conversing leisurely.
Two of the three days had already passed.
Once tomorrow ended, this stint would be over.
"By the end of today's training, they all looked half-dead."
"Tsk tsk! The body must move in youth for the mind to remember."
Cheon Su-myeong chuckled merrily before asking Hyeok Mulin.
"So, what do you plan for tomorrow?"
The first day had been handled by Hyeok Mulin, the second by Cheon Su-myeong.
And for the final third day, they had decided to share the duty, prompting his question.
"No need to see too many. I plan to select those showing potential."
There were far too many people.
Most wouldn't even comprehend swordsmanship anyway.
Thus, Hyeok Mulin decided to narrow the field.
'Still, we need results by the end.'
Though started at Sect Leader Baek's request, they needed some outcome to justify urging his return via letter.
"We agree. I thought the same."
As expected.
Hyeok Mulin had anticipated that choice.
To some, Cheon Su-myeong's training might seem a waste of time.
But Hyeok Mulin had glimpsed his sharp gaze while observing the second-generation disciples.
"So, have you separated the jade from the stones?"
"None truly pleased me, but one wasn't bad."
"Hoi-gang."
"Indeed."
The reason Hoi-gang bore the moniker Plum Blossom Sword Dragon was simple.
He possessed the highest skill among the second-generation disciples.
Not a world-shaking genius, but a martial artist who would never hear his talent lacked anywhere.
"Well... no other choices, really."
Of course, even Hoi-gang didn't fully meet Cheon Su-myeong's standards.
But with the rest all falling short beyond comparison, he was the best among them.
However.
"I see it differently."
"...?"
"Even you missed something."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly that."
Cheon Su-myeong paused at Hyeok Mulin's words, then spoke in a subdued tone.
"Are you saying I failed to properly gauge the skills of mere second-generation disciples?"
"Yes."
Flashing brief anger, Cheon Su-myeong calmed and reviewed the training.
But replaying the entire second day, no one even approached Hoi-gang's level came to mind.
Thus, he concluded Hyeok Mulin was bluffing.
"Hmph. Quite the braggart."
"You don't believe me."
Hyeok Mulin smirked and continued.
"How about a simple wager then?"
"A wager?"
"Yes. At tomorrow's training end, have our chosen disciples spar. The winner decides the wager."
"I accept."
Cheon Su-myeong agreed without hesitation.
There was no reason to refuse.
He was certain no second-generation disciple surpassed Hoi-gang.
Yet even so.
Sneer.
Hyeok Mulin wore a peculiar smile.
Seeing it, Cheon Su-myeong averted his gaze.
'...No.'
He trusted his own eyes.
But the moment he saw Hyeok Mulin's face, an ominous thread wormed into his heart.
Still, he forcibly ignored it, turning away.