If You’re a Disciple of Mount Hua, That’s Enough (5)
“Wow, you’re here?”
“You worked hard. Go rest a bit—”
Good words. All good words.
Words that might somehow fix this mood.
The third-generation disciples were desperate, but unfortunately, Chung Myung wasn’t the kind of person whose feelings could be changed by what other people said.
Instead, he tilted his head at an angle.
Wh-why is he doing that again?!
Something good happened, so why is he still acting like this?!
With his head still cocked, Chung Myung opened his mouth. Even his voice seemed to come out crooked.
“You all seem reaaally pleased with yourselves, don’t you? Sazhiiiiiung?”
“……”
“Wow, look at you. Taking a break after a little sparring match. If it were me, I’d be deciding whether to go out and swing my sword ten thousand times right this second, or maybe put my face in a bowl of water and think things over.”
Even if they could handle everything the world threw at them, the third-generation disciples were helpless against their damned junior brother’s temper tantrums.
Everyone frantically shot glances at Yoon Jong. The meaning was clear: you’re the great senior brother, so do something.
So I’m only the great senior brother when it’s convenient, you bastards!
Why didn’t they ever respect him like this on ordinary days? On ordinary days!
But what could he do? Like it or not, he was the eldest among them.
“Haha.”
Yoon Jong opened the attack with an awkward laugh.
“Why are you so angry? I thought we actually did fairly well this time.”
It was a softened way of saying: we won all the sparring matches, so why are you scolding us? But that damned bastard didn’t seem capable of understanding anything phrased gently.
“You did well? You guys?”
Chung Myung’s eyes went wide and fierce.
At the sight of those eyes, the third-generation disciples all went grim.
“You beat some supposedly impressive bastards and now you’re all huddled together throwing yourselves a celebration feast! You should be training instead of wasting time like that! What, does winning one sparring match mean your life’s over?”
Ah. So that was it.
That was it.
Chung Myung’s face twisted with disapproval as he went on.
“Back in my day, if we went to war and got stabbed, we’d be up and training the next morning—ugh, these kids these days…”
When exactly did you go to war?
And you’re younger than us!
“B-but if we defeated the third-generation disciples of Southern Edge, that’s still a pretty huge achievement. We can at least celebrate that.”
It was Yoon Jong’s mild rebellion. Of course, as always, rebellion did not lead to good results. Especially not against Chung Myung.
“Defeated them? Ah, right. Good choice of words.”
“……”
“Those kids looked at least five years younger than you guys! And you’re all this excited over beating children?”
“……”
“Even now they look like kids. So how young must they have been two years ago? Back then they’d have been sniffling little brats. You got beaten by those little punks? By them?”
“……”
He was really kicking them where it hurt.
The cheerful atmosphere in Baekmae Hall collapsed into gloom in an instant.
“If you’d at least fought well, I wouldn’t say anything! One of you almost tripped over your own feet while stepping through footwork!”
One of the disciples flinched and looked away.
“And one of you tried to strike down at the head, missed, and hit the shoulder instead.”
Flinch.
“And one of you lost your head because you were ahead, rushed in, got countered, and nearly lost the match!”
“……”
Chung Myung sounded like he was about to explode, but then he suddenly let out a long sigh and looked up at the ceiling.
“I taught you wrong. I taught you wrong, damn it… What fault is this of yours, seniors? It’s all my fault.”
“……”
Jo Gul exchanged a look with Yoon Jong.
What the hell is wrong with him?
How should I know?
Do something about this.
Ha…
Yoon Jong put on the face of a man heading straight for his execution and spoke.
“W-well, mistakes happen. But in the end, didn’t things go well? In real combat, mistakes naturally happen.”
“Mistaaakes?”
“……”
Yoon Jong had a strong feeling he’d said the wrong thing.
“So when you’re on the battlefield, you get stabbed and collapse, then say,
‘Hahaha. Well, that was a mistake, wasn’t it?’
and go on your merry way?”
“……No, of course not.”
“The whole point of training is to make sure you don’t make mistakes in actual combat! Mistakes are natural? You’re training with that kind of mindset, and this is what happens! I’m just asking you to swing your damn sword properly, and you can’t even do that? You can’t?”
Yoon Jong gave up trying to stop him.
“And then what? Someday? Somedayyyy?”
Chung Myung grinned.
“Do you really think that someday’s going to come?”
“……”
“We can barely afford to forget our meals and sleep while training every day! You botch a sparring match this badly and then go loafing around, and you’re talking about someday?”
Jo Gul smiled faintly.
Mother. I miss you.
I promise I’ll apologize when I get home for telling you to stop nagging me all the time. That wasn’t nagging. Not even close.
Does that bastard have a switchblade for a tongue?
How could every single word hurt this much?
Chung Myung lowered his voice a little.
“Don’t get carried away by whether you win or lose.”
“……”
“This was just one match. You’ll clash countless more times. You’ll fight countless more battles. To you, this might feel like a big deal, but when you look back on it later, it’ll be nothing.”
The third-generation disciples nodded.
“Can I ask one thing?”
“Ask away.”
“If we really work as hard as you say, can we use a sword like that too?”
Chung Myung’s face twisted sharply.
“Seniors. You seem to be misunderstanding something.”
“……Huh?”
“It’s not that you want to use it. It’s that you have to use it.”
“……”
Chung Myung’s eyes glinted.
“Does it make any sense that disciples of Mount Hua can’t even make one flower bloom with a sword? You think I’d just stand by and watch that?”
Strange.
It was obviously the same message, so why did it sound so different depending on who said it?
The third-generation disciples, who had only just been burning with the desire to master the sword Chung Myung had shown them, lost that fire in an instant.
Their bright, sparkling eyes turned into the dead eyes of rotten fish.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?”
Chung Myung jerked his chin.
“Let’s go. You’re not planning to skip training today, are you?”
“Ch-Chung Myung. It’s already… ”
“You said you wanted to unfold that sword, didn’t you?”
Well, yes, but…
No, Chung Myung, it’s not like we’re in that much of a rush. We could do it much later, too.
“You’re not coming out right now?”
“Eek!”
The third-generation disciples rushed out of Baekmae Hall in a clatter. The place that had been full of noise and bodies emptied out in an instant.
Chung Myung watched them for a moment, then snorted with amusement.
They can’t get cocky.
This was only the first step. It was a good thing that this victory had given the third-generation disciples confidence, but if they weren’t careful, that confidence could easily curdle into arrogance.
Only if the satisfaction of victory led to continued training could you speak of true growth. He’d pushed them a little hard, sure, but still…
“It’s not like I’m doing this for my own good!”
Chung Myung shrugged and was just about to follow them outside when someone entered Baekmae Hall.
“Oh?”
Surprised by the unexpected face, Chung Myung tilted his head.
“What brings you here?”
“……”
The one who had come in twitched faintly at the corner of his eye.
“At least greet your martial uncle first when you see him… No. That would be meaningless with you, wouldn’t it?”
Baek Cheon looked straight at Chung Myung and spoke.
“Can you spare me a moment?”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
From the top of Nagan Peak, Baek Cheon glanced cautiously at Chung Myung.
“Ah. My legs.”
Chung Myung looked around, found a tree stump, and sat down on it. He had the air of an old man through and through.
That kid…
At times, he behaved more like a middle-aged geezer than an actual human being.
But this was not the time to point that out.
“Thank you for making time.”
“No need to mention it. You’re still my martial uncle, after all.”
At least he knew that much. Thankfully.
“But what for? You dragged me out to this lonely place, so what is it—an ambush?”
“……”
He hadn’t known the brat very long, but every so often Baek Cheon had the urge to crack open Chung Myung’s skull just to see what was inside. What exactly had to be in his head for him to say things like that so casually?
“I saw your spar with Jin Geum-ryong.”
“You must’ve had a rough time with that body.”
“It was overwhelming.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Baek Cheon said nothing and simply looked at Chung Myung for a long time before speaking again.
“Your martial uncles are all quite shaken as well. At first they seemed nothing but pleased, but now their feelings are becoming more complicated.”
That was understandable.
As long as they had eyes, Chung Myung’s ability could not be denied. And the third-generation disciples had plainly become stronger as well.
They were the ones supposed to lead the third-generation disciples as their seniors. But if things kept going this way, the juniors might surpass them. How could that not leave them unsettled?
No—perhaps the third-generation disciples had already surpassed them.
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I want to get stronger.”
“……Oh?”
Baek Cheon looked at Chung Myung with determined eyes.
“I don’t know whether you realize it, but saying this to you as a martial uncle isn’t easy.”
“I understand perfectly.”
Who better understood Baek Cheon’s feelings than Chung Myung, the man who had to bow and scrape around blue-faced children, calling them martial uncles and grand-martial uncles?
Yeah, that’s gotta sting.
For the first time, Chung Myung felt a faint trace of kinship with Baek Cheon.
“But no matter how I think about it, this seems like the best solution. I’m not saying I don’t trust my martial uncles, but what you can learn from them and what you can learn from you are different things.”
Chung Myung looked at him with a bored expression.
“So what you’re saying is that you’re going to put your pride aside and have me train the second-generation disciples, including yourself?”
“Put simply, yes.”
Chung Myung snorted.
“Why should I?”
“……”
The answer was so unexpected that Baek Cheon went dumbly silent and stared at him.
“It’d just be a pain, and I wouldn’t really gain anything from it. Why should I bother taking on that kind of hassle?”
“……I am your martial uncle. Are we not from the same sect?”
“So did you carve out time from your day to watch over the third-generation disciples’ training?”
Baek Cheon closed his mouth. Once that was said, he had nothing to say. It was true he had never paid much attention to the third-generation disciples’ training. He’d thought that was Un Geom’s job.
“But you’re already overseeing the third-generation disciples’ training, aren’t you?”
“Why do you think that is?”
When Chung Myung shot the question back at him, Baek Cheon seemed about to answer, then closed his mouth again.
Why, indeed? The reason was simple enough. The third-generation disciples were practically Chung Myung’s subordinates. Right now they were a nuisance and a headache, but if he trained them well, later he could live without lifting a finger.
Baek Cheon let out a long sigh.
“So you’re saying I should bow my head.”
“Ah, wow. You’re making me sound like some kind of traitor to human decency with such a calm face. Do you really think I’d say something like that?”
He didn’t need to say it outright. Just know it and act accordingly.
Baek Cheon hated that he understood that sort of language so well.
“……St-still, there are rules in Mount Hua.”
“Martial uncle.”
“What?”
Chung Myung spoke as calmly as if he were discussing the weather.
“You saw how I trained the third-generation disciples, right?”
“……I did.”
He’d practically rolled them around like pine cones.
And that they were still alive afterward was an achievement. A remarkable one, at that.
“Do you think I’d do that to my martial uncles?”
“……”
The honest answer was close to: You’re the sort of bastard who absolutely would, but you’re probably holding back because of the other people watching.
But Baek Cheon was a man who understood how to speak.
“It would be difficult. Still, you’re the kind of person who has some manners.”
“Exactly, exactly.”
Like hell I do.
Chung Myung shrugged.
“So that won’t work. I can do something with the seniors, but I can’t do anything about the martial uncles. If I did, Grand Martial Uncles would never let me off.”
Baek Cheon looked at him quietly.
So you could do it.
He only spoke of difficulties, never of impossibility.
“Then if we solve all that, you’re saying you can make us stronger?”
“Didn’t you see it with your own eyes?”
He had.
That was why he had come.
Baek Cheon let out a deep breath.
Chung Myung had taught the third-generation disciples of Mount Hua, who then defeated the third-generation disciples of Southern Edge. Then he had personally crushed Southern Edge’s second-generation disciples and Jin Geum-ryong.
Those were enemies the second-generation disciples of Mount Hua hadn’t even been able to lay a hand on.
Baek Cheon bit his lip hard.
“We’ll handle that.”
“How?”
“While we’re being trained, we are not your martial uncles. Those receiving instruction can only be disciples. I’ll respect you as my teacher.”
“Oh?”
Chung Myung looked interested, then shook his head.
“That won’t do.”
“……Why not?”
“Because then after training is over, if you swear at me, I won’t have any way to deal with it.”
“……”
Baek Cheon said blankly, “No, we’re not that crude—”
“One day of training with me and you’ll be saying something else. The seniors weren’t like that at first either.”
Baek Cheon lost the ability to speak and just stared at Chung Myung.
“T-then what must we do?”
“If you’re going to do it, do it properly.”
Chung Myung snapped his fingers.
“If you want to learn, then bow your heads properly, without worrying about training time or anything else. Then I’ll make an effort. But if you can’t do that, I can’t help you with anything. I’ve got to survive too.”
“……”
Baek Cheon fell into deep thought.
But that thought process did not last long.
What pride do I even have left?
To bow his head to a junior disciple was humiliating. But a martial artist being weak was an even greater humiliation. And besides…
I want to see that sword someday too.
That sword that had brought Jin Geum-ryong to ruin. The sword of Mount Hua would not leave his mind.
“Very well.”
Jin Geum-ryong answered with resolve.
“From this moment on, you are no longer the disciple of a second-generation disciple. You may still be called a junior brother, but none of the second-generation disciples will try to press you down with rank. I guarantee that in my own name.”
Hooked.
A pleased smile appeared at the corners of Chung Myung’s mouth.
He’d already been wondering how to bait these guys, and here they were, fish leaping straight into the net on their own. How admirable.
“Really?”
“Yes!”
“You’re sure?”
“I said yes!”
“Okay. Good. Then gather everyone and come to me tomorrow morning.”
“……”
“Why?”
“Ah, no. Nothing.”
Only belatedly did Baek Cheon realize he had made some terrible mistake.