A Day They Would Never Forget (1)
"That bastard...!"
"How dare he speak to us like that!"
Outbursts of furious outrage erupted from every direction.
Jin Geum-ryong ground his teeth. He was already reeling from the shock of defeat, and now Yoon Jong had brazenly stepped forward to challenge them first—he felt as if his blood were boiling in reverse.
Meanwhile, Yoon Jong flinched when he saw the violent reaction pouring out from the Southern Edge Sect.
Did I go too far?
It was already like a house of mourning here, and he had gone and provoked them on top of it. It was only natural that their response would be terrible.
Still, this was something Yoon Jong had to do.
He couldn't possibly let the momentum Chung Myung had created just die here.
Jin Geum-ryong shouted in an angry voice.
"Kong Jin! Kong Jin!"
"Yes, Martial Uncle!"
"Get out there! Crush that arrogant little punk and come back!"
"Understood!"
Jin Geum-ryong's face twisted. He was the kind of man who pursued perfection. In this Hwajong Jihoe, he had wanted nothing but flawless victory. But with Mount Hua's blow just now, a crack had been driven into that perfect triumph.
And not just any crack. A crack so huge it could never be mended.
Chung Myung!
His gaze flew across to Chung Myung.
You idiot!
He had trusted and sent out Seon Woo-ryang, only for him to be beaten into such a pitiful state. Was Seon Woo-ryang weaker than he had thought? Or was Chung Myung stronger than expected?
The latter.
There was no way he had misjudged the ability of a disciple of his own sect. Seon Woo-ryang was unquestionably the best among Southern Edge Sect's third-generation disciples when it came to skill.
If he had fallen to Chung Myung, then Chung Myung was far stronger than the rest of Southern Edge's third-generation disciples.
That might be so. But the others are different.
They had suffered an unexpected strike, but they had not been utterly humiliated yet. If they could defeat the remaining third-generation disciples one after another, Chung Myung's display would end as nothing more than Chung Myung's own feat, and would not carry over to Mount Hua.
Kong Jin, the eldest of the third-generation disciples, strode onto the arena with a face full of venom, wooden sword in hand.
Seeing him, Yoon Jong drew a deep breath.
Has it been two years?
By the calendar, yes. In truth, they had come face-to-face again even sooner than that.
At the last Hwajong Jihoe, Yoon Jong had fought that very Kong Jin. And he had been utterly overpowered, unable even to mount a proper counterattack before losing in the end.
Two years since then.
Honestly, I wouldn't have had a chance.
Not if Chung Myung hadn't come.
During the time Chung Myung had been absent, Yoon Jong hadn't truly trained. No, to be precise, he had trained because he had to, but he had not thrown himself into becoming stronger with everything he had.
Because it had seemed meaningless.
The shock of their defeats against Southern Edge had left all of Mount Hua drained of spirit. No matter how hard they tried, it felt as though victory would never come. Only Baek Cheon had been willing to challenge that wall of despair.
But then, one day, Chung Myung had appeared as if he had fallen from the sky. Thanks to that bastard, Yoon Jong had been able to spend the past few months giving his all.
Had those months of training truly closed the gap between them? He couldn't say for certain. Only...'
I won't lose easily.
He was the senior brother of the third-generation disciples.
Even if Chung Myung had effectively become their leader, Yoon Jong still had the pride of carrying Mount Hua's proper lineage forward. He would absolutely not show a disgraceful sight here.
Kong Jin bared his teeth and glared at Yoon Jong.
"There's no need for words. Today I'll make you painfully understand just how much face I let you save in our last match."
"I wasn't really planning to thank you for that."
"I said no more words!"
Kong Jin roared and charged forward. Yoon Jong bit his lip and gripped his sword tightly.
That bastard's sword is fast and honest.
It came in with obvious movement, and its path could be predicted in advance.
And yet, the Yoon Jong of the past had been unable to stop Kong Jin. That meant the gap between them had been that wide. A difference so great that half-baked schemes or variables couldn't do a thing about it.
So this time—!
Clang!
Kong Jin's thrust was blocked by Yoon Jong's sword.
"What?"
Seemingly caught off guard, Kong Jin drew back his sword and lunged again.
"Looks like you haven't been idling away all this time! But that's nowhere near enough."
"Tch!"
Yoon Jong deflected the oncoming blade again and again.
Fast.
And heavy.
Kong Jin's sword was far faster and fiercer than before. Yoon Jong could clearly feel how much grueling training the man had gone through. He seemed at least twice as strong as he had been in the past.
And yet...
Why?
Clang! Clang-clang! Clang!
Yoon Jong's sword moved cleanly, batting away Kong Jin's strikes.
Two years ago, he hadn't even been able to see those attacks properly. Now that the sword had become faster, how much more vicious should it have been?
And yet this was impossible to understand.
Why can I see all of it?
It wasn't slow.
It was definitely fast. Blindingly fast strikes rained down one after another. But strangely enough, every movement of Kong Jin's sword was plain as day to Yoon Jong's eyes. And this wasn't like before, when he had seen an attack and still been unable to do anything about it...
Clang!
Yoon Jong's sword moved with simple efficiency and knocked Kong Jin's blade far off course, almost like a slap. Unable to resist the recoil, Kong Jin was shoved backward and quickly reset his stance.
"...You bastard."
Yoon Jong stared at Kong Jin with a bewildered look.
"...Is that all?"
"This—!"
"Ah, no. Don't get angry. I'm not trying to provoke you or anything. I'm just asking honestly. Are you maybe taking it easy on me because you want to embarrass me? Is this one of those things where you suddenly get much stronger out of nowhere?"
"You bastard! I'll kill you!"
Apparently taking Yoon Jong's words as mockery, Kong Jin erupted in rage and charged like an enraged boar. Watching that scene, Yoon Jong felt more baffled than afraid.
Chung Myung, what the hell did that bastard do to us?
Every single movement of Kong Jin's charge was crystal clear. From the motion of his shoulder alone, Yoon Jong could already tell which direction the sword would swing.
This wasn't prediction from sword patterns. He was seeing it with his own eyes.
Whoosh!
The wooden sword swept wildly with true qi poured into it, but Yoon Jong simply stepped back and avoided it perfectly. The blade passed right in front of his stomach.
Perhaps because too much force had gone into the strike, Kong Jin's posture tilted just a little. In the past, it would have been a tiny opening he would never have seen. But now Yoon Jong could see that gap with startling clarity.
Thud!
His foot moved before his head did, kicking Kong Jin in the side. When he saw Kong Jin's body go flying backward, Yoon Jong turned around before he even realized it.
Chung Myung.
Chung Myung was looking at him with a bored expression.
As if he were saying, This is dull, hurry up and finish it.
That crazy bastard.
Something about his attitude had seemed off.
There was no doubt that bastard had foreseen all of this from the very beginning.
"Aaaaaaaargh!"
At that moment, Kong Jin lost all reason, driven completely beyond restraint by rage and excitement, and charged at Yoon Jong again. Seeing him, Yoon Jong spread his legs slightly and raised his sword a little.
Upward stance.
The fundamental stance of every sword, and the basic posture of the Yukhap Sword.
And the posture from which the one strike he had been swinging like a madman for the past ten days began.
Kong Jin's blade came thrusting in. Then it began to undergo a distinct change, utterly different from the Southern Edge swordplay he had displayed until now. The Yoon Jong of the past would have been thrown into confusion.
But now there wasn't even a flicker in Yoon Jong's eyes.
In the end, all changes and sword techniques came from the fingertips. Lock the lower body like a mountain, and let not even a single change escape the eye. And then...
There!
He saw it!
The instant the swords connected. Yoon Jong caught that subtle opening and did not let it slip. The moment his eyes confirmed the gap, his body moved on its own.
Kwaaaaaaaaa!
The sword cut through the air.
A blade brought down without a trace of hesitation.
Unwavering spirit. A trained body. And a precise objective.
The sword, forged by the union of spirit, qi, and will, pierced through Kong Jin's sword path and struck squarely at his shoulder.
Startled, Kong Jin hastily twisted his blade to block Yoon Jong's strike.
Kwaaaaaaaaaang!
The sword flew into the sky.
Kong Jin's wooden sword, split cleanly in half, spun as it soared high above before dropping to the ground.
Tap. Taptap.
Only the sound of the wooden sword hitting the floor echoed quietly across the Mount Hua grounds, which had fallen into a stunned silence.
...
Silence.
Some of them sprang to their feet and stared at the arena in utter disbelief.
Kong Jin.
The eldest of Southern Edge Sect's third-generation disciples lay collapsed on the ground, unconscious. Before him stood Yoon Jong, sword lowered, upright and imposing like a mountain.
There was no need to speak of victory or defeat.
It was a perfect win.
Looking down at Kong Jin, Yoon Jong quietly sheathed his sword at his waist and cupped his hands in a formal salute.
"I learned a great deal."
Then he turned and walked back to his place.
And a thunderous roar exploded at once.
"Wooooooaaahhh!"
"He won! He won! Senior Brother Yoon Jong won!"
"Hahahahaha! Damn, this is insane!"
It wasn't only the children. Even where Mount Hua's adults were seated, pandemonium broke out.
"Wahahahahaha! Yoon Jong! Yoon Jong!"
"P-Please calm yourself, Senior Brother!"
As Hyun Sang twitched as if ready to rush straight at Yoon Jong, Hyun Young hurriedly grabbed him.
"Calm down, my foot! Do I look calm right now? Wahahahaha! We won! We actually won!"
"Senior Brother! Your dignity! Please have some dignity!"
"Dignity, my ass—we won!"
But even as he dragged Hyun Sang back, Hyun Young couldn't hide the broad grin stretching across his face.
He must be absolutely thrilled.
He was always the stern one. But just as Hyun Young had carried a lifetime of resentment over Mount Hua's finances, Hyun Sang carried the resentment of Mount Hua's martial arts. As the Martial Hall Leader, he was the one who had to lead Mount Hua's martial tradition forward, and so he had spent his life sinking deeper and deeper into despair over lost techniques and the sect's low level.
He never showed it outwardly, but it was obvious how suffocating it must have been for him.
And now, the third-generation disciples, whom no one had even expected anything from, were firmly pressing down on those arrogant Southern Edge bastards.
What about the Sect Leader?
Hyun Young turned his head to look at Hyun Jong.
He was smiling with visible satisfaction. So benevolent and warm that merely looking at him made one's heart soften...
"Aaaaaah! You can't ascend to heaven just yet!"
Hyun Young abandoned Hyun Sang and rushed to Hyun Jong, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him hard.
"Pull yourself together! Sect Leader! Not now! What have you even done to be losing your soul already?!
"It, it is all complete..."
"No, it isn't! We're nowhere near done yet! Physician! Get a physician! A physician!"
Amid the chaos, Yoon Jong returned to his seat. He smiled awkwardly at the cheers pouring in from his fellow disciples. But inwardly as well...
I feel like I'm going to fly away.
Yet while everyone was dancing with joy, there was one person who could not smile at all: Jo Gul. It was his turn now.
"Senior Brother! Great Senior Brother! How did you do that? What am I supposed to do—"
"Gul."
"Yes, Senior Brother!"
"Just go out there."
"...Huh?"
Yoon Jong laughed before he could stop himself. Now he understood why Chung Myung hadn't given him any further explanation.
"Even if you want to lose, you can't. Just go out there. Once you're out there, you'll understand."
"..."
Jo Gul tilted his head.
But if Yoon Jong said so, then that was how it was. Jo Gul soon hardened his expression and headed toward the arena.
Yoon Jong didn't even glance at Jo Gul. Instead, he walked straight to Chung Myung and sat down beside him. Then he spoke in a heavy voice.
"What did you do?"
Chung Myung grinned and looked at him.
"Did what?"
"To us!"
"Ah, that?"
Chung Myung snorted and replied in a blasé tone.
"Nothing much. I just made you win."
What do you mean, how did you do it, you little bastard!
You damn goblin!