If You’re a Disciple of Mount Hua, That’s Enough (1)
The snow and plum blossoms that had blanketed the world vanished as if they had been washed away.
It was almost like an illusion.
The spectators, still unable to shake off the lingering awe of that majestic sight, simply stared at the dueling ground with dazed eyes. Now that the dreamlike scene had disappeared, only two people remained standing there.
Two people.
Chung Myung and Jin Geum-ryong.
Everyone held their breath and watched them.
What happened?
Who won?
Most of them couldn’t even tell how the bout had ended. They had only seen the raging storm of white snow and red plum blossoms.
But before long, the outcome became plain enough for their own eyes to see.
Jin Geum-ryong, who had stood rigidly upright, let his knees buckle.
In a world that had seemingly frozen in place, only Jin Geum-ryong seemed to move. The bent knee struck the ground, and then his body collapsed.
Thud.
It was the sound that broke the silence.
That awkward, unfamiliar noise set time moving again in Mount Hua.
“……”
Baek Cheon stared wide-eyed at Jin Geum-ryong’s fallen figure.
Jin Geum-ryong…
The wall he had never been able to cross had just been defeated and thrown down before him.
Had Jin Geum-ryong been weak?
Absolutely not.
The skill Jin Geum-ryong had displayed in this bout far exceeded Baek Cheon’s expectations. It was the proof of why the man had been so overflowing with confidence. If Baek Cheon fought him a thousand times, he probably still wouldn’t be able to win.
And yet Jin Geum-ryong was now sprawled on the ground.
Baek Cheon’s gaze moved to the side.
Chung Myung stood there with his sword lowered, quietly staring at Jin Geum-ryong. It wasn’t just Baek Cheon. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Chung Myung.
A strange sense of dissonance.
And from deep in their chests, a surge of excitement.
Everyone present realized it naturally. What they were seeing now would likely be spoken of for years to come.
As long as Mount Hua carried on its history, and as long as Southern Edge did not tear down its signboard, this duel would surely be passed from mouth to mouth alongside the names of Mount Hua and Southern Edge.
In other words.
A legend had been born here, right now.
“……He won.”
Yoon Jong muttered before he even realized it.
Even seeing it with his own eyes, he could hardly believe it.
Ten straight victories.
Chung Myung, a third-generation disciple of Mount Hua, had beaten a second-generation disciple of Southern Edge ten times in a row. And not just any second-generation disciple—he had done it against Jin Geum-ryong, the strongest among them.
“Ah…….”
Countless thoughts tangled in his head, but none of them came out in any sensible form.
All he could do was stare at Chung Myung and let out a stunned groan.
Swish.
At last, Chung Myung sheathed the wooden sword at his waist and looked around. Those whose eyes met his flinched and took a half-step back.
Then—
Grin.
Chung Myung’s lips curled sharply upward. Sweeping his gaze over them with a smiling face, he slowly spoke.
“This Hwajong Jihoe…”
After a brief pause, Chung Myung declared in a voice that was neither loud nor quiet,
“Mount Hua’s victory!”
At the same moment, an explosive cheer erupted!
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Yoon Jong jumped in surprise as Baek Cheon, right in front of him, screamed like a madman.
They had spent quite some time together since joining Mount Hua, but Yoon Jong had never once seen Baek Cheon so worked up that he shouted like this.
But when he thought about it, that was only natural.
The resentment Yoon Jong, merely a third-generation disciple, held toward Southern Edge could never compare to the fury burning inside Baek Cheon, a second-generation disciple. Baek Cheon had been crushed beneath Southern Edge’s shadow for at least ten years longer than Yoon Jong had, and on top of that, he had endured this Hwajong Jihoe far more times than Yoon Jong ever had.
The emotions he felt in this moment would be in a completely different league from Yoon Jong’s. Yoon Jong already felt so overwhelmed that his mind was going numb—so what about Baek Cheon?
The same went for the other second-generation disciples.
“WOOOOOO! We won! We beat Southern Edge!”
“Our first victory at the Hwajong Jihoe! Our first victory, damn it! Those Southern Edge bastards!”
“Ten straight wins! Ten! That crazy bastard got ten straight wins!”
“Hahaha! Chung Myung! Chung Myung, you punkaaaah!”
They had never won even once themselves, so one might have thought they’d at least be gloomy. But seeing the second-generation disciples celebrate even harder than the third-generation disciples, Yoon Jong found himself smiling without meaning to.
That’s what a sect is.
People could quarrel. They could dislike one another. But the moment they stood under the name Mount Hua, none of those feelings mattered at all.
Of course.
“WOOOOOO! Sasuk! That insane bastard won! He beat Jin Geum-ryong! WOOOOOO!”
It wasn’t as if the third-generation disciples were any less excited than the second-generation ones.
Jo Gul, standing beside him, seized Yoon Jong by the head and started shaking him hard enough to snap his neck. He’d nearly lost his mind, apparently, and had no idea what he was doing.
“H-Hey, let go of—”
“WOOOOOOO! This is insane! Insane! Ten wins! Ten wins! I knew that guy wasn’t normal, but ten wins? My God, ten wins! That crazy bastard! Hahahahaha! That absolute madman!”
“I said let go, you idiot!”
Even while yelling, Yoon Jong couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.
Jo Gul had practically been shaking his head off and was now even yanking at his hair, but Yoon Jong couldn’t possibly feel annoyed. Joy and a strange sense of fulfillment were surging through his chest so strongly that he felt like he might burst apart.
Had he ever felt anything like this in his life before?
Chung Myung. You worked hard, you punk!
His gaze moved to Chung Myung standing on the dueling ground.
Chung Myung lifted a hand and pressed it firmly against his chest.
Then he swallowed the mouthful of blood that had risen in his mouth.
I pushed it a bit too far.
There was still a huge gap between what he knew and what his body could actually do. It had been fine to force Chilmaegeom to its limit and suppress Jin Geum-ryong, but he had overused his qi and taken a fair amount of internal injury.
But—
“Well, whatever.”
This much internal damage was something he could handle without issue. Not compared to what he had accomplished.
In the past, he had been called the Plum Blossom Sword Saint and had lived as someone feared by some and revered by others. But even across that entire life, had he ever done something quite like this?
Cutting down Heavenly Demon wasn’t something I did alone, after all.
The name Plum Blossom Sword Saint and the power behind it were known to all under heaven, of course, but there hadn’t actually been many achievements that people spoke of with certainty.
Especially at this age.
Today’s duel would be talked about and remembered for the rest of Chung Myung’s life, for as long as he lived a new life in Mount Hua.
Proud?
No. It’s more like I’m tasting something delicious.
Chung Myung turned his head slightly and looked toward Southern Edge’s camp. Seeing the way they all looked like their souls had left their bodies, something savory kept rising up inside him.
In this mood, he could eat plain white rice and think it was a feast.
As he smiled with the corners of his mouth raised, a cold glint briefly flashed in Chung Myung’s eyes.
Winning in front of everyone was important, yes, but what really mattered was that he had trapped them in his own design. Even in their dazed state, their eyes were glazed over enough to prove it.
They would never forget this duel, and he had hammered his sword directly into their subconscious. Thinking about how this would play out in the years to come made the stuffy clog in his chest seem to burst all at once.
“That’s what you get for poking your nose where it didn’t belong.”
Losing in the present was dangerous enough, but losing the future meant everything would come crashing down together.
Today, Chung Myung had stolen Southern Edge’s future from right under their noses.
How is it, Sect Leader Senior Brother? This should count as real revenge, right?
- You little Daoist bastard!
Anyway, damn it!
Chung Myung’s face twisted sharply. Was there not a single enemy that Daoists didn’t have? At times like this, he was glad Sect Leader Senior Brother hadn’t come back to life too. If that old man had returned with him, he would probably have started spouting nonsense about Southern Edge’s sins being grave but the current disciples being innocent, or some other sanctimonious drivel.
Then Chung Myung would have burst a blood vessel.
This doesn’t mean everything has been repaid.
Chung Myung glared coldly toward Southern Edge.
As long as their sects stood close together, there would be many more chances to tangle with them in the future. And every single time, he intended to repay them properly, without forgetting a thing.
But for now, this was enough.
Receiving cheers that felt ready to explode from one side and looks of despair from the other, Chung Myung turned his head.
“Sasuk.”
“Huh? Ah—ah!”
Unam, still struggling to come to his senses, jerked in surprise at Chung Myung’s words. He looked around and swallowed dryly.
I, I’m the one who has to do this?
Well then, who else would do it if not him?
Unam clenched his fist and looked around. Then, with a solemn voice and a face so bright it seemed almost out of character, he shouted,
“I announce that this Hwajong Jihoe has ended in Mount Hua’s victory!”
The cheers grew even louder.
At the area where the third- and second-generation disciples were gathered, chaos broke out. They were hugging each other, bouncing up and down, shouting at the tops of their lungs.
“Tsk tsk. No sense of dignity at all.”
Chung Myung let out a snort as he watched them.
Then he turned his head and looked at the fallen Jin Geum-ryong. Even though their own disciple had collapsed on the dueling ground, none of Southern Edge’s disciples moved to collect him.
No, they probably couldn’t. They were still groaning under the shock of a blow they had never once experienced in their lives.
“Take this guy away.”
“……”
“Come on, get a grip.”
Only after Chung Myung’s words did the startled disciples of Southern Edge finally rush onto the dueling ground.
“Senior brother! Come to your senses! Senior brother!”
“To the Medicine Hall! Hurry!”
Watching the now-frantic dueling ground, Chung Myung spun on his heel and headed back to his spot.
And then the second-generation and third-generation disciples who had been watching all rushed out at once and descended on Chung Myung.
“Hah. Really, now, what kind of great person—”
Chung Myung didn’t even finish his sentence.
“WOOOOOOOOOOOO! Chung Myungaaaaah!”
“You crazy bastard! You total lunatic!”
“No, seriously! What the hell kind of guy are you? For real?”
The disciples all swarmed him together and buried him under their weight. Feeling the heavy bodies of grown men pile onto him, Chung Myung screamed.
“Aaaagh! Internal injury! Hey, you bastards! I’ve got internal injuries—!”
“Hahahahahaha!”
“He’s insane! He’s insane!”
“I said I’m injured, you idiots!”
But the ears of the overexcited disciples seemed unable to hear anything at all. They all crashed down on him at once, pressing him flat, dragging him around, and smacking him—
Who the hell was that just now?
Only after enduring that for what felt like forever did Chung Myung finally manage to pry himself free from the disciples who had swarmed him. Staggering, he clicked his tongue.
He felt like he’d taken more damage here than in the actual duel.
But—
I can’t say it feels bad.
Chung Myung let out a snort of laughter.
Even in his past life, he had always been the one to uphold Mount Hua’s dignity, but he had almost never received a reaction this intense. Everyone had simply taken Chung Myung’s victories for granted.
He had been brought back to life and saddled with a bunch of troublesome matters, but thanks to that, he was now getting to experience many things he had never been able to before.
One thing was certain.
Today will change Mount Hua.
The current had been turned.
The disciples who had been trapped in a sense of defeat would now carry pride instead. And one day, that pride would lead them to a higher place.
Sect Leader Senior Brother. Is this enough?
- Good work, Chung Myung.
Man, getting praised even once is annoyingly hard.
A deeply satisfied smile settled on Chung Myung’s lips.