A Day They Would Never Forget (3)
"Guh... Ughhh..."
"Sect Leader! Sect Leader, please pull yourself together! Physician! Is the physician still far off?"
"What physician? Move aside!"
Hyun Sang shoved Hyun Young aside and pressed his hand to Hyun Jong's back. Then he quickly began to pour his energy in.
No, can a person’s meridians really tremble because they’re too happy?
He’d heard of people going mad from shock, but he had never once heard of anyone falling into deviation because they were too overjoyed. Yet that bizarre thing was happening right before Hyun Sang’s eyes.
As he sent his energy inward to steady Hyun Jong, the Sect Leader let out a long, shaky breath.
"I-I’ve calmed down."
"...Are you all right, Sect Leader?"
"Am I all right?"
Hyun Jong whipped around to stare at Hyun Sang. Hyun Sang swore he had never once seen the Sect Leader’s eyes look so wild.
"Did you just ask whether I was all right?"
"...I spoke out of turn, Senior Brother."
"W-What in the world is this...? Hah. Good heavens. Hah..."
Hyun Jong kept sucking in breath after breath. It seemed he still couldn’t calm down.
And why would he?
Hyun Sang understood him. More than enough to understand. His own hands were trembling, after all, so how much worse must Hyun Jong, as the Sect Leader, be feeling?
"Un Geom!"
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"Did... did you teach the children like this?"
Un Geom gave a faint smile.
"If I could answer yes, I’d stand a little taller, too, but unfortunately, I cannot. Those are the result of the third-generation disciples’ own training."
"Their own training?"
Hyun Jong looked at Un Geom with utterly disbelieving eyes.
"Junior Brother, please explain in a little more detail."
Unam urged Un Geom on in an excited voice. Even he, normally so calm, could not hide his agitation at this moment.
"Perhaps Chung Myung..."
"Chung Myung?"
At this point, it wasn’t even surprising anymore.
Anytime something happened, that name came up. Even now, deep down, he had more or less expected it.
"What on earth is that child?"
"Isn’t he the one Sect Leader personally allowed to enter the mountain? Do you truly not know anything about him?"
"What would I know? I only took him in because he came to us, and I thought it was fate."
That "fate" was now producing incomprehensible miracles.
Since Mount Hua had suffered at the hands of the Demonic Sect—no, ever since its predecessors had been wiped out in the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains one hundred years ago—Mount Hua had never once beaten Southern Edge.
In truth, even saying they had "failed to win" was generous. Objectively speaking, they had never even been a match. Which was why Sama Seung had been able to provoke them so shamelessly and they had not been able to say a word back.
And yet Mount Hua’s third-generation disciples had beaten Southern Edge’s third-generation disciples. Not just beaten them, either—they had crushed them utterly and completely.
Ancestors...
Hyun Jong’s eyes turned red at the edges.
So this day had come.
He had believed, beyond doubt, that one day it would; he had simply assumed it would never happen in his own lifetime. But now that the scene he had only ever vaguely imagined in dreams was standing before his eyes, he felt as though there was nothing more he could ask for.
"Sect Leader! It’s happened! Those children did it."
"Yes. So they have. Yes. So very admirable. Yes."
The words wouldn’t come properly. He could only keep repeating "yes" over and over again.
At last, I can die without shame when I meet the ancestors...
Huh?
Then why is that one coming out again?
Hyun Jong closed and opened his eyes twice. But the sight before him did not change. Chung Myung, his wooden sword hanging at his waist, was shambling out with an unarmed look about him.
Then he turned his head toward the side where Hyun Jong stood.
"Looks like he’s looking this way."
"W-What is that child planning now?"
At this point, expectation outweighed concern. Hyun Jong clenched his fists tightly and stared at Chung Myung.
And in that instant, Chung Myung curled his lips into a wicked grin.
"..."
That was not a face a Daoist should be making.
What the hell is that bastard planning this time?
For one brief moment, Hyun Jong even wanted to avert his eyes from the wrath of the Grand Pure One.
"Y-You... you useless fools!"
Sama Seung looked as though he might faint from fury. He had bitten down so hard on his lower lip that it had split, and blood trickled down from it.
Ten straight losses.
There could be no more humiliating defeat than this. The ten straight wins they had earned earlier had already vanished from his mind. The fact that they had lost to Mount Hua—worse, lost utterly—had paralyzed him completely.
Even if Mount Hua had not been their opponent, anyone would be ashamed after ten straight wins followed by ten straight losses. They hadn't technically been defeated, but emotionally it was no different from losing, was it?
"And after making such a disgrace of yourselves, you still dare lift your heads and return to Southern Edge? You worthless idiots! You lost to Mount Hua? To Mount Hua, and this badly!"
Spitting fire, Sama Seung hurled his rage like a torrent.
"You blockheads have dragged Southern Edge’s honor through the mud! You lost to Mount Hua in front of all these people? To Mount Hua? Aaagh! You pathetic things!"
The third-generation disciples could not even meet his eyes, and even the second-generation disciples who had won looked down with uncomfortable expressions.
While Sama Seung was nearly toppling over from the force of his own anger, Jin Geum-ryong swept his gaze across the third-generation disciples with eyes that looked ready to beat someone to death on the spot.
It was over.
The perfect victory he had wanted had already been tossed into the dung heap. Even the notion of "victory" itself had collapsed.
A draw.
A draw against Mount Hua. It was something he had never once imagined, not even in a nightmare. Yet here it was, bearing down on him right before his eyes.
"Damn it..."
Despite knowing Sama Seung was standing right there, the curse still slipped out. Jin Geum-ryong turned his bloodshot eyes back toward Mount Hua’s disciples, and then his gaze narrowed as if he had spotted something.
"That bastard!"
At Jin Geum-ryong’s words, Sama Seung also turned his head. In his eyes appeared the sight of Chung Myung, shambling out unarmed.
That bastard!
The one son of a bitch he’d never be satisfied with killing once.
Come to think of it, everything had started with that bastard.
"Why is that thing coming out again?"
At Sama Seung’s sharp shout, everyone turned to look at Chung Myung.
"Good heavens. To think such a result would come out..."
"Looks like Mount Hua sharpened their blades in secret. This is truly beyond imagination."
"Ten straight wins? Does that mean Southern Edge’s third-generation disciples couldn’t beat those Mount Hua brats even once?"
And there was one thing nobody said out loud, though everyone knew it.
Mount Hua’s third-generation disciples had shown a gap even greater than what Southern Edge’s second-generation disciples had displayed.
Furthermore, now that things had turned out this way, the conduct Southern Edge’s disciples had shown while facing Mount Hua’s people was gnawing at them even more. Back then, they had probably thought of it as the composure of victors, but now that Mount Hua’s third-generation disciples had won cleanly without any real provocation or mockery, that behavior suddenly seemed ugly.
"They beat them in skill, and they beat them in attitude as well, didn’t they?"
"Indeed, one can only call this a truly distinguished sect, Mount Hua. I am deeply impressed."
The tide was rising.
Rising fast.
Mount Hua’s standing was climbing like mad. At this rate, its momentum might even pierce the heavens.
Meanwhile, Hwang Mun-yak forcibly suppressed the joyful scream rising from the bottom of his heart.
From this bout onward, the evaluation of Mount Hua would change completely. There were surely already those among them who were quietly calculating how much they ought to invest in Mount Hua from this point on.
But the math would not be easy. For them, this entire series of events had to be utterly unforeseen.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how wise it had been to meet Chung Myung in advance and invest in Mount Hua before all this happened.
"Then this means..."
That was when it happened.
"Um, excuse me for a moment."
Someone shouted from atop the arena, toward Hwang Mun-yak’s side.
"Hm?"
Hwang Mun-yak turned and looked up at the fighting platform. Chung Myung was smiling lightly as he looked this way.
"Isn’t that the child from before?"
"He definitely said his name was Chung Myung. The one who won as the spearhead."
Listening to the murmurs around him, Hwang Mun-yak met Chung Myung’s gaze.
As if on cue, Hwang Mun-yak raised his voice in reply.
"What is it, young Daoist?"
Chung Myung grinned and went on.
"You watched the whole thing from the middle, so I figure you ought to be able to judge properly, which is why I’m asking."
"About what?"
"Who won?"
"What?"
Who won?
Well...
Hwang Mun-yak’s expression hardened.
This young Daoist doesn’t intend to let this end as a draw.
He had no idea what line Chung Myung was about to take, but in a situation like this, he had to go along with it. Hwang Mun-yak glanced back at the others and asked,
"What do you think? Come to think of it, I suppose we should decide whether there was a winner or not."
The local notables of Shaanxi, gathered there, looked flustered for a moment before sinking into thought, then one by one began to speak.
"A draw would be the most reasonable outcome, but if you insist on dividing it into a win and a loss, wouldn't Southern Edge, whose second-generation disciples won more, be the victor?"
"Nonsense. What is the point of the Hwajong Jihoe? Is it not to look at a sect’s future? If we were simply comparing overall strength, there would be no reason for second-generation and third-generation disciples to fight separately. If we judge by potential and growth, then Mount Hua, whose younger third-generation disciples performed better, is the winner."
"Nonsense. Potential is just potential, isn’t it? Those third-generation disciples may never be able to surpass Southern Edge’s second-generation disciples."
"Then you ought to take Southern Edge’s third-generation disciples into account as well. Anyone can see those kids are younger than Mount Hua’s third-generation disciples, aren’t they? At that age, even a year or two makes a huge difference."
"By that logic, Mount Hua’s second-generation disciples are younger than Southern Edge’s second-generation disciples, too!"
"No, now listen here!"
No conclusion could be reached.
Everyone had their own reasons. Looked at one way, Mount Hua had won; looked at another, Southern Edge had won.
Hwang Mun-yak, who had been listening quietly, shouted on behalf of the muttering crowd.
"Young Daoist. That conclusion is far too difficult to make."
"Is it?"
Chung Myung snapped his fingers.
"But if we leave it like this, everyone watching will feel uneasy, won’t they? And the Southern Edge folks going back home will feel awkward too, while we who send them off won’t feel satisfied either. So I was thinking it’d be better to settle the matter cleanly."
"...How do you mean?"
"Simple."
Chung Myung pointed at Southern Edge.
"There are exactly ten winners over there."
"..."
The Southern Edge disciples listened closely to Chung Myung’s words.
"And there are ten winners from Mount Hua."
"W-We’re why?"
Yoon Jong stammered in surprise.
Chung Myung looked back and forth between both sides and said carelessly,
"Take out the losers and have the winners fight one more time. That way it’ll be crystal clear, won’t it?"
Has that bastard lost his mind?
What is he plotting? They’re all second-generation disciples over there and we’re all third-generation disciples!
No. That bastard wouldn’t step into a fight he’s already losing. He must have some other condition in mind!
As if not to disappoint them, Chung Myung added the condition.
"However!"
Of course.
Just as the third-generation disciples were beginning to feel relief, a thunderbolt crashed into their ears.
"Forget those childish little matches where you decide things one person at a time! If we’re going to fight, let’s do it properly. We go with a chain victory match until only one person is left standing. Whoever wins keeps fighting the next opponent. The side with someone standing at the end wins. What do you think?"
Chung Myung looked at Southern Edge with a vicious smile.
"If you’re scared, then just go die."
An absolutely unavoidable provocation.