Acting Like It’s Nothing
“……”
Hyun Young stared blankly at the ring, then tilted his head.
What the hell is going on here?
He was the Elder of Finance.
Sharp with numbers and keenly sensitive to profit and loss, he had been recognized from the moment he entered the sect as talent fit to lead the Finance Hall. But precisely because of that, he had never been able to devote himself entirely to martial arts.
As a result, by now he was among the Hyun generation with the weakest cultivation.
So Hyun Young found it difficult to understand what the sight unfolding before him actually meant.
Chung Myung had beaten a Southern Edge third-generation disciple. No—he had utterly crushed him.
Just how big an event was that?
“No, Sect Leader, that…”
Hyun Young had been about to turn toward Hyun Jong to hear his thoughts when he flinched.
Because Hyun Jong wore a face none of them had ever seen in the decades they’d known him.
His eyes were bulging so wide they looked ready to pop out, and his mouth was hanging open so far that a passing bird could have come in to rest there for a moment. And it wasn’t just Hyun Jong—Hyun Sang beside him had the exact same expression.
Should I be shocked too?
Being left out of the reaction made him feel a little disappointed, honestly…
“Uh…”
“Huh?”
“Uhh…”
Hyun Jong’s eyes shook as though an earthquake had struck him, and then a dazed voice finally leaked out.
“T-this… no, this… There’s no way this could… I….”
The same stunned murmur kept spilling out of him. Unable to bear it any longer, Hyun Young tugged lightly at his sleeve.
“Sect Leader. The outsiders are watching. Please compose yourself.”
Only then did Hyun Jong close his mouth. Judging by the cracking sound from the way he forced it shut, he really had been shocked badly.
“No, that child…”
Hyun Jong had barely recovered his dignity, but Hyun Sang had not. He raised a trembling hand and pointed at Chung Myung, muttering in disbelief.
“H-he shouldn’t be that strong… This makes no sense… It doesn’t make sense. He should’ve lost?”
In the end, Hyun Young lost his temper.
“Our sect’s child has performed brilliantly, and that’s the best you can say? Must you go around cursing him to lose?”
“……I’m only saying it doesn’t make sense. Because it doesn’t.”
Hyun Sang rubbed at his own face with both hands, then asked with his mind still clearly elsewhere, “How long has that child been in the sect?”
“Not even six months.”
“And you’re saying that in just six months, he beat a Southern Edge disciple? And that one-sidedly?”
“……”
Ah…
When put that way, it really didn’t make sense.
“Un Geom! Where is Un Geom?”
“I’m here, Sect Leader.”
Unlike the others, Un Geom had managed to keep a comparatively calm expression as he bowed respectfully.
“When that child first entered Mount Hua, had he already learned another martial art?”
“No. There were no signs that Chung Myung had learned any martial art before.”
“Then you’re saying he truly achieved that level in barely half a year?”
“Yes.”
Hyun Jong turned to look at Un Geom with eyes full of disbelief.
“A genius…”
Un Geom said it as if it were nothing.
“Perhaps even that word is unfit for him. He’s the sort of child who reveals so little of himself that even now I still haven’t fully grasped his true cultivation.”
“Hah.”
As Hyun Jong exhaled in wonder, Hyun Sang muttered to himself, “I thought those so-called geniuses and divine dragons only existed in other sects, and now this is what we get… What nonsense. It’s like rummaging through a storehouse and finding a golden calf buried in a sack of rice.”
Hyun Jong seemed to be suffering just as much of a shock.
“I thought he was just a lucky charm…”
His mutterings gave voice to everyone’s thoughts.
What hadn’t Chung Myung done in Mount Hua until now? No one had even thought it necessary for him to have talent in martial arts. Chung Myung was, after all, a person too; to ask for more would be a shameless thing to do.
And yet he had martial talent too? Enough to toy with a Southern Edge third-generation disciple?
While everyone was still reeling, only Hyun Young finished his calculations quickly.
“At any rate, we’ve secured one win. Isn’t that enough to save face?”
“……”
“……”
Hyun Jong and Hyun Sang slowly turned toward him, then glared with faces that mixed irritation and disbelief.
Feeling awkward for no reason, Hyun Young cleared his throat.
“I’m just saying, for now. For now.”
“Good grief…”
“This is why you need to learn proper martial arts and stop meddling in finance. You’re talking nonsense all by yourself.”
Hyun Sang’s rebuke left Hyun Young looking utterly wronged. Hyun Jong merely smiled faintly and let his gaze drift back toward Chung Myung far away.
Save face.
Could it really be reduced to something that simple?
Perhaps…
Maybe the results of today’s Hwajong Jihoe didn’t matter all that much. Right now, Mount Hua might have obtained a talent who would shoulder the next hundred years.
“……It seems the child from Mount Hua won.”
“Mm, yes. That’s true, but…”
“……Wasn’t it a bit too one-sided?”
“Hah, this was not something anyone expected.”
Hwang Mun-yak leisurely enjoyed the reactions rising around him.
Of course he should be able to do at least that much!
Hwang Mun-yak did not know just how strong Chung Myung was. He had been unconscious until the matter with the Eunha Merchant Guild was resolved.
He had heard that Chung Myung had been struck once by Yi Song-baek and even spat blood, but he didn’t believe it. That Chung Myung? Of course not. It must have been an act to expose the true culprit.
To Hwang Mun-yak, Chung Myung’s martial prowess was an unknown territory. But there was one reason he could watch the bout so calmly.
That little bastard would never fight a battle he couldn’t win.
He couldn’t claim to know Chung Myung perfectly, but he was a man who had made the Eunha Merchant Guild one of Shaanxi’s top ten merchant houses by reading people alone. From that perspective, the fact that Chung Myung had stepped out so confidently meant he was certain of victory.
Of course, the result had been even more brutal—and even more overwhelming—than Hwang Mun-yak had expected.
That’s right. He doesn’t fight battles he can’t win.
Then was this Hwajong Jihoe also, for Chung Myung, his own battlefield? If Chung Myung saw it that way, then the final outcome might well differ from everyone’s expectations.
“Mount Hua certainly has talent.”
“If you consider his age, it’s remarkable. No, no—remarkable isn’t enough to describe it.”
“You can’t beat a Southern Edge disciple by luck. And there was clearly a huge gap at a glance, wasn’t there? If that child was strong enough to take the vanguard in a bout like this, then he must truly be an outstanding talent even among Southern Edge’s third-generation disciples. And yet it ended this one-sidedly…”
The elders’ conversation sounded to Hwang Mun-yak like a beautiful song.
But he didn’t miss the strange heat hidden beneath their seemingly casual voices. They couldn’t praise Chung Myung too openly with Southern Edge watching, but no one present could have failed to realize that Chung Myung was a monster.
Dream on. He’s the fish I caught.
With this single bout, Chung Myung had succeeded in drawing more attention than Jin Geum-ryong. No matter how the Hwajong Jihoe ended, Chung Myung’s name would be talked about across all of Shaanxi for a long time.
Hwang Mun-yak smiled faintly and stole a glance at Chung Myung’s back as he returned to his seat.
“But it’s only one win so far. If the other third-generation disciples all lose, then this will simply be remembered as that child being outstanding.”
“That is certainly true.”
Hwang Mun-yak narrowed his eyes, watching the Mount Hua third-generation disciples who were welcoming Chung Myung back. Even he found this interesting.
Come now, show us what you’ve got, Daoist Chung Myung!
Would this end as nothing more than a single upset?
Or would Mount Hua’s counterattack begin here?
Chung Myung sat back down with the expression of a cat that had eaten its fill and was now stretched lazily in warm sunlight.
The face that had looked ready to burst with irritation only moments ago was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a fresh, refreshed expression, as if all his grievances had been washed away.
He beats someone up and looks that refreshed afterward?
Even a demon wouldn’t be like that.
But everyone else was feeling just as satisfied. At last, the words they’d been holding in burst out all at once.
“Chung Myung! Well done!”
“You should’ve stomped him flatter!”
“Feels like a ten-year-old burden just got lifted off my chest!”
Yoon Jong smiled warmly at the cheering disciples.
These guys are Daoists, all right.
If they’d been in a similar situation before Chung Myung arrived, there would have been all kinds of complaints—wasn’t he too harsh with his hands, could a cultivator really beat someone that badly, and so on.
But now even these bastards seemed to have been dyed by Chung Myung’s colors, and they were ready to throw a festival over it.
Even Yoon Jong couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from rising.
“Chung Myung, good work.”
“What, I just went out and had a little fun.”
It was an obnoxious thing to say, but at this moment even that sounded proudly and justifiably said.
I knew this bastard was strong, but…
To think he would so thoroughly trample a Southern Edge disciple that the other man couldn’t even raise a hand or foot in response.
This was the first time he’d ever felt sorry for a Southern Edge disciple. Mount Hua had always been the one receiving pity, never the one pitying others.
Yoon Jong was painfully aware once more that anyone entangled with Chung Myung became an object of pity, regardless of gender or age.
“Chung Myung, good work!”
“That was amazing! Really amazing!”
Even the second-generation disciples, with whom it wouldn’t have been strange to say Chung Myung’s relationship was utterly terrible, crowded around him and shouted their praise.
Well, of course.
The happiest people right now were probably not even the third-generation disciples or the Sect Leader, but the second-generation disciples. Chung Myung had paid back, with interest, the humiliation they had suffered.
Setting aside personal feelings, they had all been so enraged by Southern Edge’s ridicule throughout the bout that they were close to developing an ulcer. Then Chung Myung had gone and beaten down Southern Edge’s disciple as coolly as if dumping a bucket of ice water on a midsummer day—how could this young martial nephew not be adorable?
More than personal feelings, they were simply overjoyed that Chung Myung had at least partly restored Mount Hua’s honor, which had been dragged through the mud in the earlier bouts.
He’s got every right to be cocky.
If you’ve got the skills, you can be as cocky as you like.
Maybe he’s actually a good guy if you look at it right.
Basking in everyone’s cheers, Chung Myung puffed up a little and turned to Yoon Jong.
“Sahyung!”
His tone was firm. Yoon Jong, guessing what those words meant, nodded with a stiff expression.
So it’s my turn.
Chung Myung had done his part more than enough—no, he had done it to excess. Now Yoon Jong and the other senior brothers had to take over from here.
I’m prepared to—
“What are you standing there dumbly for? Hurry up and get out there.”
“……”
No, this bastard always has to ruin it right when things are going well!
“……Fine.”
What was there to say? He only got more headaches.
Still, there was something he needed to say.
“Do you have any advice or anything? Like a trait of Southern Edge martial arts?”
“You think you can use it if I tell you?”
“……”
“Just get out there. Roughly smack whoever’s head shows up.”
“……I understand, for now.”
Yoon Jong headed toward the ring with dazed eyes. Feeling the gazes gathering around him, he made a subtle expression.
The atmosphere really has changed.
Mount Hua had been like a house in mourning. But thanks to Chung Myung’s perfect victory, the mood had clearly shifted.
The hope that maybe the third-generation disciples were different.
Making that hope real—that was Yoon Jong’s responsibility now.
“Huu.”
He tried not to be nervous, but it wasn’t working. If nothing else, maybe it would be easier if no one expected anything from him, but because of Chung Myung’s performance, expectations had begun to land on him too, hadn’t they?
And if Yoon Jong were to lose…
That was when it happened.
“Sahyung!”
From behind him, Chung Myung called out to Yoon Jong. Yoon Jong turned around with a hardened face.
Right, you’d at least have some conscience, so maybe you’d offer an encouraging word…
“If you lose, you’re dead.”
“……”
Ah. I forgot for a second that this bastard is Chung Myung.
My bad. That’s on me.
After letting out a deep sigh, Yoon Jong once again set his face hard. Then he drew his sword and took his stance. His gaze fixed sharply on the group of Southern Edge disciples.
And then he lifted his sword and pointed it at Southern Edge.
“I, Yoon Jong, third-generation disciple of the Great Mount Hua Sect, request a bout from Southern Edge!”
The wind began to blow toward Mount Hua.