The Black Swords of Mount Hua Are Strong (5)
"Uh... uhuh..."
Wi Lip-san’s eyes went so wide it looked as if a fist might fit into them.
"Ah, no. I... huh?"
He had watched the whole thing with his own two eyes, from beginning to end. And yet his mind refused to properly process what he had seen.
They’re winning?
No—more precisely, they were overwhelming them.
The Mount Hua disciples were actually driving back the Wudang disciples, who looked fearsome enough to make anyone flinch at a glance.
Wi Lip-san could not bring himself to believe the scene before him.
Where was Wudang, after all?
It was one of the North Dipper of the martial world. There were countless sword sects under heaven, but no one hesitated to place Wudang first among them.
If there was any sect that could stand beside it, it was only the Namgung Family.
And yet those very Wudang disciples were being pressed back by Mount Hua’s.
"That can’t be right."
Hwayeong Gate was a branch of Mount Hua.
Wi Lip-san was a man who took immense pride in being connected to Mount Hua. But pride was pride, and reality was reality, wasn’t it?
A man might be proud of his father, but that didn’t mean he would claim his father was greater than a grand general or a grand preceptor. Affection and ability were separate matters.
That was how Wi Lip-san felt about Mount Hua.
He knew it was a fallen sect, and yet he simply could not cut away the affection he held for it.
But that fallen sect was now fighting to protect him. And not only that—it was winning.
Wi Lip-san lifted a hand and clutched at his chest.
Something there was throbbing painfully.
"Ah, Father."
"Yes."
Wi So-haeng also turned to look at Wi Lip-san with trembling eyes.
"They’re strong."
What more could he possibly say?
Nothing but overwhelming emotion…
Glug, glug, glug.
"……."
Wi Lip-san’s head slowly turned.
There, sprawled carelessly on the ground and gulping down wine from some bottle he must have brought with him, was Chung Myung.
"……."
"Hah!"
Feeling the gaze on him, Chung Myung tilted his head slightly and looked over at Wi Lip-san.
"Want a drink?"
"……."
Mount Hua had changed.
The disciples had grown tremendously strong…
And there’s also a lunatic.
Back in the day, it had neither of those.
Wi Lip-san had no choice but to seriously wonder which was better: having neither of them, or having both.
No, wait. This was no time to be wondering about that!
"The Taoists are fighting right now alongside your senior brothers and uncles—how can you even drink at a time like this!"
"Yep, gulp gulp."
"Ah, right?"
Well, then there was nothing to be done… no, that wasn’t it!
Seeing Wi Lip-san gaping in absurd disbelief, Chung Myung snorted.
"We’ve put in all this work. If we lose to those bastards, we’d have to bury our faces in a dish of water."
"Huh?"
Wi Lip-san blinked, clearly not understanding a word of it.
Chung Myung only grinned in response. Then he looked back toward the courtyard where the fighting still raged on.
Who do you think taught them?
Of course they were strong. Chung Myung had taught them himself.
Arrogant, was it?
Nonsense.
If one searched the world over, there were surely a few people who could train them the way Chung Myung did. He would even admit that much.
But there was no way in hell any of them would train disciples the way Chung Myung did. Absolutely none.
Could anyone imagine the greatest masters of a sect kicking the second- and third-generation disciples around, coaxing them and browbeating them and painstakingly teaching them from the fundamentals up?
Search the whole world and you still wouldn’t find a place like that.
Even if there were someone with the desire to do it, the moment they tried to teach the disciples, every elder starting with the sect leader would come charging in and kick up a storm.
Which was only natural.
A sect’s strength was decided by how many masters it possessed, but its standing was decided by how strong its greatest master was.
Just look at Mount Hua, which had always been reduced to second-place behind Wudang. The moment it produced the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, it had drawn a knife to Wudang’s throat and laughed like a madman, hadn’t it?
That was why the greatest masters of each sect poured everything into cultivating and perfecting their own martial arts. And to prevent the severing of that understanding, they kept only a select few direct disciples.
But Chung Myung was different.
He possessed an understanding of martial arts greater than the top masters of every sect, and on top of that, he had something they did not.
Time.
And above all…
My own strength matters. But that isn’t everything.
Hadn’t he already felt it?
He had spent a life stubbornly insisting that he alone would become strong, only to arrive at a result he had never wanted and never wished to face again. The images of his senior brothers and sisters dying horribly still came to him in dreams, tormenting him now and then.
He would never let that happen again.
And that wasn’t all. Mount Hua itself had to grow stronger.
So that someday, when Chung Myung had fully realized his own martial arts and his senior brothers and sisters had become even stronger, Mount Hua would throw open a new age that had never come before.
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
"Hah!"
Chung Myung took a long drink, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and muttered, "Jo Gul, senior brother—three mistakes. No, four."
He’s dead later.
Baek Cheon quietly turned his head and looked at Jo Gul. He had heard Chung Myung muttering from behind him very clearly. There was no way Jo Gul hadn’t heard it too.
Sure enough, Jo Gul’s face could be seen going pale as he swung his sword.
I’d better not make any mistakes.
Baek Cheon’s gaze returned to the front. Jin Hyeon was glaring at him with a face so tense it was almost rigid.
Baek Cheon slowly opened his mouth.
"What are you doing?"
"...What?"
"You don’t look like the sort who cares much for saving face."
Jin Hyeon understood the insult in Baek Cheon’s words and bit his lip hard.
Then he barked in a low voice, "Help your senior brothers!"
"...Senior brother?"
"What are you lot doing! Move now!"
"Yes!"
The men guarding Jin Hyeon scattered and rushed to support the senior brothers who were being pushed back in all directions.
Baek Cheon glanced behind him and smiled faintly.
"A scene I’d rather not forget. Wudang disciples using a pincer attack to deal with Mount Hua disciples…"
"……."
Jin Hyeon could not answer. He only bit his lip harder.
Damn it.
Even if they won, there was nothing to be proud of. No—it would be shameful beyond words. If this had not been a battle they had to win, he would never have resorted to such a tactic, even if it meant defeat.
"Isn’t it interesting?"
Jin Hyeon let out a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again.
The anger and confusion vanished from his face in an instant, and Baek Cheon gave a small, quiet nod.
Impressive.
In terms of composure, he surpassed Baek Cheon by far. Baek Cheon still could not control his emotions to that degree.
But that was all.
Then Jin Hyeon spoke again.
"May I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"...How did you become this strong?"
"Not a very interesting question. The reason’s simple, isn’t it? I trained hard."
"Are you making a fool of me?"
Baek Cheon shrugged.
What else was he supposed to do when no one would believe the truth even if he said it plainly? Of course, he had left out a number of modifiers after “trained hard”—to death, until he wanted to vomit, until he was shitting blood, and so on.
You couldn’t do it even if someone told you to.
That wasn’t something you could call willpower.
It was only possible if there was someone tormenting you so ruthlessly that you’d rather die than give up or resist.
Just remembering that training sent a chill through Baek Cheon, and he shuddered without meaning to.
"Never mind. However you did it, the fact remains that you’re strong. But one more thing."
Jin Hyeon’s face twisted slightly. He had already mastered his emotions to a degree, but this, apparently, he could not tolerate.
"Why is that one not making a move? Is he looking down on Wudang? Or does he intend to preserve even that flimsy reputation of his?"
That one?
Baek Cheon glanced at Chung Myung and let out a small laugh.
"You seem to be mistaken."
"...Mistaken?"
"With your side’s skill, you can’t drag that guy out. A sword leaves its sheath only when the level is right."
Jin Hyeon’s expression hardened.
"Don’t be too angry about it. That goes for me as well. In this world, once in a while something strange does appear. Like a chicken with three legs, or a snake with two tails. And when that happens, a monster with three heads and six arms shows up too."
"...Three heads and six arms?"
"Don’t worry. I’ll play with you. Wouldn’t Righteous Sword of Mount Hua be just about the right match for Bujeolgeom? Mount Hua Divine Dragon would be a little excessive."
"Are you not that man’s senior martial brother?"
"You can’t cover strength with generational rank."
There had once been a time when Baek Cheon was obsessed with such things too.
But now, becoming stronger than that mattered a hundred times more.
"It’s about time we started fighting. Otherwise that damn martial nephew of mine will flare up again. But before that, it’d be best to make one promise."
Baek Cheon looked steadily at Jin Hyeon and said, "If you lose this match, withdraw from Namyang. And never touch Hwayeong Gate again. That is, if you still know what shame is."
Jin Hyeon said with a stiff face, "If we are defeated, then by my honor, that is what will happen."
"Good."
Snikt.
Baek Cheon drew his sword.
Jin Hyeon slowly drew his own as well.
They had already introduced themselves, exchanged a few words; nothing else was needed now. Only the sword would prove who was stronger.
"Taaat!"
Jin Hyeon charged toward Baek Cheon without hesitation.
I can’t give him any opening.
He had not been idle in the rear. He had already watched the others fight. Their swords were terrifyingly fast and dazzling. If he yielded the initiative, he might not even get a chance to counter, no matter how strong he was in the latter ranks.
And yet Baek Cheon’s eyes showed not the slightest trace of wavering as Jin Hyeon rushed at him.
I understand now.
He understood just what kind of monster the Mount Hua disciples had been training under all this time.
"Your head’s empty! Empty! Senior brother has already died twelve times today! What, do you have a hobby of dying? You planning to die and die and die like that? Fine. Then let’s see you die until you’re dead today!"
"Ugh."
Baek Cheon, who had dragged up a memory he did not want to see even in his dreams, grit his teeth and tightened his grip on the sword.
Then he charged straight at Jin Hyeon!
Geomryong?
One of the greatest rising talents under heaven?
Maybe if the Hwajong Jihoe had never existed, Southern Edge’s Jin Geum-ryong might also have been counted among the Six Dragons. In other words, Jin Hyeon and Jin Geum-ryong were of similar caliber.
Baek Cheon’s eyes grew cold.
Jin Hyeon’s sword, wrapped in blue sword qi, moved with fluid grace. It looked as though he were whipping through the air with a bolt of blue silk.
Magnificent inner strength.
And utterly steady sword form.
It was a sword that made one understand why the man was praised throughout the world.
And yet only that.
Baek Cheon’s sword gave a light tremor.
Mung.
From the tip of his blade, a single red plum blossom bloomed.
I made it bloom.
After driving himself to the brink again and again, after dismantling himself down to the smallest parts and tearing himself apart over and over.
At last, plum blossoms bloomed from Baek Cheon’s sword tip as well.
The dainty flower burst into dozens more in an instant. As if a wind had risen from nowhere, the blossomed plum flowers soared into the air and whirled out like a rain of petals.
"Ah…."
Jin Hyeon’s eyes flew wide open.
Only then did he desperately swing his sword. A wave of blue sword qi covered his whole body.
Endless Severance.
It was sword qi that seemed as though it would break at any moment, and yet would not break, continuing on and on without end.
But it was impossible to block every single petal fluttering through the air.
Swish.
A petal slipped between the gaps in the sword qi and slashed a long line across Jin Hyeon’s side.
"Kkh!"
At the same time, his sword form faltered, and the petals all at once surged toward him.
"Ah…."
The petals swept across Jin Hyeon’s body and passed on.
Thud.
Baek Cheon calmly watched Jin Hyeon collapse to the ground, then quietly slid his sword back into its sheath.
"The title of Geomryong may have been a little too early for you."
It was a cutting remark, cold as ice.
And right on its heels, as always, came a peculiar voice.
"Hah, look at that. Damn fine to see."
"Ah, stop talking!"
You damn martial nephew!