Mount Hua Never Disappears (4)
"Elder, Senior Brother will win, won’t he?"
At the cautious question directed at him, Sama Seung bit down hard on his lip. The flesh split beneath his teeth, and a thin line of blood ran down from the wound.
"Will he win?"
What an unbearably naive question.
"He has to win no matter what."
If they failed to break that monster’s wings here today, then sooner or later it would surely take to the sky.
Once a monster rose into the heavens, no method in the world could ever bring it down.
From that moment on, it would no longer remain a monster. It would become a dragon.
This might be their last chance.
It was the worst possible situation, but Sama Seung had not yet given up hope.
If it’s Jin Geum-ryong, then he can do it.
They were both second-generation disciples, but Jin Geum-ryong was different from the others. His skill was on a completely different level. Even compared to Wudang’s first-generation disciples, Jin Geum-ryong was no less impressive.
He had spoken sharply and coldly, but in truth, if only fortune favored him a little, Jin Geum-ryong was the sort of man who would not have seemed strange even if he became the strongest martial artist in the world one day.
In other words?
If Jin Geum-ryong could not stop him, then no one of that generation could ever stop Chung Myung, no matter who came. That meant if Chung Myung defeated Jin Geum-ryong here and now, then the seat of the world’s strongest martial artist in future generations would naturally belong to Chung Myung.
And that was unacceptable.
We should have strangled him faster.
They should not have worried about face. Even if they had to endure the world’s condemnation, they should have wiped Mount Hua out completely. This was the result of failing to sever that stubborn throat.
Damn those Mount Hua bastards!
Bloodshot fury filled Sama Seung’s eyes.
He would never allow a history of humiliation to be written here today.
Never!
At that very moment, Jin Geum-ryong’s sword began to blossom across the world like an illusion, filling the air with flowers. Watching the near-perfect unfolding of the Snow Flower Twelve Sword, Sama Seung clenched his fist.
Your sword will be the thing that cuts your own throat!
Chung Myung simply watched the sword flying toward him.
Pretty similar.
At least on the surface, they had copied it damned well.
That brilliance.
The beauty of flowers seeming to live and breathe, one blossom after another. And within that beauty, a strike so sharp and lethal it could not be hidden.
It was nothing less than the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
It was on an entirely different level from the Snow Flower Twelve Sword Yi Song-baek had displayed before. Yi Song-baek’s sword had merely imitated plum blossoms, but Jin Geum-ryong’s Snow Flower Twelve Sword possessed a refinement that even made Chung Myung admire it.
Anyone else would have been completely dazzled by such an enchanting sword and fallen before it without resistance.
But this time.
The one standing before Jin Geum-ryong was Chung Myung.
Chung Myung slipped past the incoming sword.
Swish.
Jin Geum-ryong’s blade cut through the hem of his robe.
Swish.
The tips of his hair were severed and scattered into the air.
Swish.
Then Jin Geum-ryong’s sword grazed Chung Myung’s face. A red line appeared, and a drop of blood slid down his cheek.
Leaping back, Chung Myung raised a finger, wiped away the blood as it trickled down, and licked it from his fingertip. It tasted metallic.
"You won’t beat me if all you do is keep running away."
At Jin Geum-ryong’s taunt, Chung Myung simply stared at him in silence.
Some of the ease returned to Jin Geum-ryong’s eyes.
"Mount Hua once made its name in the world with swords that resembled flowers, didn’t it?"
"……."
"But that belongs to the past now. Even your symbol will be buried beneath Southern Edge’s new sword. The world will remember Southern Edge’s Snow Flower Twelve Sword and forget Mount Hua’s sword."
Chung Myung listened quietly, saying nothing.
"The reason my sect’s predecessors created this sword was to prove that no matter what form it took, Southern Edge’s sword was superior to Mount Hua’s. To be honest, I never thought that was such a meaningful goal. What is the point of proving your superiority over a sect that has already collapsed? But still!"
Jin Geum-ryong said in a cold voice,
"If this sword is the one that cuts Mount Hua’s last breath, then that will certainly mean something. Come. I’ll cut away even your last lingering attachment."
It was an arrogant speech, yes, but above all else, it was a cutting one.
And yet Chung Myung’s reaction after hearing it all was nothing like Jin Geum-ryong expected.
"Heh."
"……?"
Chung Myung covered his mouth. Then, before long, he began to laugh in spasms.
"……What are you doing?"
Struggling to hold back his laughter, Chung Myung finally lowered his head and waved a hand.
"No, no. I’ve been trying to hold it in, but I just can’t anymore."
Showing his white teeth, Chung Myung grinned. Then he raised his sword and pointed it straight at Jin Geum-ryong.
"I took a good look. My impression? Hmm…… how should I put this? You look like a clown."
"A clown?"
"Yeah. Nice work with the half-baked imitation. At that level, you could probably even put on a show somewhere."
Jin Geum-ryong’s face twisted at once. Deep lines carved themselves into his brow and forehead as he ground his teeth.
"How dare you…… compare my sword to clowning around?"
"Ah, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’m looking down on you personally. What I’m looking down on is…… hmm, that sword style? Or maybe Southern Edge for making it?"
Jin Geum-ryong glared at him with a terrifying expression. Yet Chung Myung remained perfectly calm, not wavering in the slightest.
"No need to glare like that. I said I’d give you a present. I’ll fill in what’s missing from that sword for you."
"……You’d best not expect to walk away with that body intact."
"That’s a funny thing to say for someone who’s been using nothing but killing moves from the start."
Jin Geum-ryong flinched.
The Snow Flower Twelve Sword was dazzling beyond measure. Because of that, even the one facing it could not properly distinguish the real from the false hidden within the sword. So then, wouldn’t it also make it impossible to tell killing blows from feints?
Jin Geum-ryong tightened his grip on the sword hilt.
It did not matter. Chung Myung would not leave this duel alive anyway. And Mount Hua would not dare demand a price from him for it. To do that, they would have to take on all of Southern Edge.
In the end, what ruled the world of martial artists was power.
The weak might complain of injustice, but they could not punish the strong. That was the absolute law of the jianghu, unchanged since the world first came into being.
"You……."
But Chung Myung mercilessly cut him off.
"I’ve got one question."
His tone was unusually subdued, unlike Chung Myung at all.
"What exactly is in that sword?"
"……What are you talking about?"
"No, that’s enough."
Chung Myung shook his head.
That meant there was no meaning to the answer at all.
Forcing down the true words that were about to rise, Chung Myung smirked and spoke. His voice rang out loud enough for everyone to hear.
"You’ve copied it fairly well, but that alone isn’t enough. Mount Hua’s sword is faster, sharper, and more dazzling."
Everyone here had heard that.
That was enough.
With this……
Southern Edge would not escape its curse.
"Your mouth’s still alive, at least."
"If there’s a way to kill only the mouth, please let me know. Besides, you’re the one who’s been doing most of the talking since before."
"You……!"
Seeing that further words were pointless, Jin Geum-ryong moved his sword. He would answer with blade rather than speech.
One blossom.
Then another.
His sword moved through the world with breathtaking speed and beauty. The true energy pouring from the blade began forming an exquisitely clear pattern of flowers.
One blossom.
And then another.
Soon, the flowers Jin Geum-ryong created began to cover the entire dueling platform.
Beautiful beyond compare, yet deadly beyond compare.
You die by this sword!
The Snow Flower Twelve Sword.
It was the final form of Snow Flower, the Snow Flower Filling the Sky stance, so perfect that even Jin Geum-ryong himself found it satisfying.
Flowers whitening the world spread around Chung Myung as if they were about to tear his body apart at any moment.
"Ch-Chung Myung!"
Screams burst out from every direction.
The Mount Hua disciples, who had until now stared at the platform as if enchanted, all sprang to their feet at once.
They knew it too.
Just how dangerous that sword was. And just how magnificent.
No special insight into the realm was necessary. Simply looking at it was enough to raise goosebumps all over the body and make the heart hammer wildly.
Until now Chung Myung had never once given them reason to feel anxious, but in the face of that ridiculous transformation of sword intent, it seemed impossible that he could survive.
Yoon Jong, without even realizing it, brought both hands together before his chest.
Heavenly Ancestor, please!
Jin Geum-ryong’s sword was so sharp and fierce that even that monster Chung Myung had to be worried about. It seemed as though no one in the world could possibly survive that storm of snow flowers.
Even the second-generation disciples and Baek Cheon cried out as they watched Chung Myung.
But one person alone.
Yu I-seol merely bit her lip and watched the scene without much outward reaction. Only a single thread of doubt crossed her eyes.
That……?
It was a scene she felt she had seen somewhere before. Perhaps one she could even call familiar. She had seen it in the past, and she had seen it not long ago. But…….
It’s different.
Something was different.
That sword was not all that different from what she already knew. But it did not give off the same soul-draining feeling she had experienced when she saw Chung Myung’s sword.
What was different?
Her gaze moved to Chung Myung.
He would be the one to tell her what was different.
With that very sword.
Looking at the tide of blossoms flying toward him, Chung Myung wore a strange expression.
Well, this is a new experience.
It felt a little different from sparring with his senior brothers. It was rare to ever feel real killing intent from a senior brother, after all.
So this is how those Demonic Sect bastards felt when they faced the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
Though a little different, of course.
But Chung Myung felt no threat, no pressure whatsoever, from the sword flying at him now.
Why?
Because this is just a shell.
To be precise, it was a failed sword technique.
A sword begins in art, reaches law, rises to example, and arrives at learning. A sword that goes even farther beyond that finally completes the Way.
But this sword contained none of that.
In this hollow shell of a sword, there was art and law, but no example and no learning. At this rate, it would never reach the Way.
The sword before him was nothing more than a copy of the outer shell of Mount Hua’s swordsmanship. A shell with no heart.
And this had begun with a long, long misunderstanding.
The Plum Blossom Sword Art is a sword that makes flowers bloom?
That was wrong in two ways.
First of all.
Chung Myung’s sword slowly began to move.
The Mount Hua disciples recognized it at once as the starting stance of the Seven Plum Blossoms Sword.
Seven Plum Blossoms Sword?
They all knew the Seven Plum Blossoms Sword was the great sword art Mount Hua had recovered.
But that unknown Southern Edge sword in front of them made the Seven Plum Blossoms Sword look far too weak.
Then Chung Myung muttered softly, almost to himself.
"It’s not like only the Plum Blossom Sword Art can make flowers bloom."
Flowers do not bloom only in dense forests.
Even on a sheer cliff, a single lonely plum tree can bloom.
Whether it was the Plum Blossom Sword Art or the Seven Plum Blossoms Sword, if the one holding the sword was a disciple of Mount Hua, then what did the sword style matter?
Only…….
Soon, a delicate blossom bloomed at the tip of Chung Myung’s sword.
Within the field of snow-white sword light from the Snow Flower Twelve Sword, which seemed ready to bleach the world pure, a single red flower bloomed.
It looked like a solitary snow plum flowering in the depths of a long winter mountain blanketed in snow.
The snow plum blooms alone in winter after all other flowers have fallen, yet it carries a fragrance deeper than any other blossom.
The single plum blossom Chung Myung brought forth gradually swelled, and soon it covered the entire dueling platform in the form of a red plum bloom, like a snow plum blossoming atop Mount Hua’s snow-covered peaks.
Everyone watching was left speechless.
It was too beautiful to call it a sword, and too majestic to call it something made by human hands.
This is an illusion.
Time stopped.
And in the stillness, only the plum blossoms that had bloomed in full breathed out a fragrance so rich it made the eyes close of their own accord.