My Work Starts Now! (4)
A sword came crashing down.
Mu Jin rolled his body sideways on reflex.
Naeryeotagon.
It meant a lazy donkey rolling on the ground. Martial artists who prized dignity above all else regarded throwing themselves into the dirt as something utterly shameful. But Mu Jin didn’t have the luxury of thinking about pride now.
BOOM!
The place where he had been standing exploded a heartbeat later, and the floor caved in.
Seeing the sheer force of it, Mu Jin’s face hardened at once.
If he’d been hit?
Instant death.
“Oh? You dodged?”
Chung Myung, who had just performed the absurd feat of drilling a hole in the floor with a sword, looked over at Mu Jin with a shameless grin.
Mu Jin bit his lip and sprang upright from the ground.
Then, with a far more cautious expression, he glared at Chung Myung.
He’s strong.
The hair on his body stood on end, and a chill ran straight through his bones.
Just one strike.
That single strike was enough to judge the depth of his opponent’s strength.
Maybe this man was a fearsome enemy Mu Jin had never once faced in his life. For all that playful attitude, the skill was unquestionably the real thing.
He couldn’t understand why someone with that level of ability would appear wearing a mask and doing such bizarre things, but he had to abandon the habit of looking down on an opponent based on appearances…
Mu Jin clenched his lips hard.
Am I still thinking such stupid things?
This wasn’t contempt.
Contempt was what the strong felt for the weak. But compared to Chung Myung, he was clearly the weak one.
“Huuuuuu.”
Taking a deep breath, Mu Jin fixed his clear, settled gaze on Chung Myung.
“What’re you glaring at?”
“……”
He had been hit with words he hadn’t expected again, but unlike before, Mu Jin didn’t waver at all. His mind remained steady.
“Oh?”
So Wudang was still Wudang, was it?
Chung Myung snorted and started walking toward him.
In time with those swaggering steps, Mu Jin’s sword rose and fell lightly.
Whooosh…
Along with a sound like a clear waterfall pouring down, blue sword qi began to ripple from the tip of his blade.
Blue River Sword.
Sword qi that fit the name perfectly.
“Taaaat!”
Mu Jin shouted and unleashed his sword.
Blue River Never Ends.
It looked as though dozens of strips of blue silk had been spread open all at once. Even Wudang’s second-generation disciples, who knew Mu Jin well and understood the Taechung Sword Art, unconsciously dropped their jaws at the terrifying display.
Each and every one of those strands was myeongi.
Wudang’s distinctive sword qi that never broke. Unlike ordinary sword qi, which was discharged in short bursts, this kind of blade aura consumed several times the mental focus and internal energy with a single release.
Soft.
Endlessly soft.
And yet hidden within that softness was a strength no one could defy. It was, in every sense, a sword qi of soft exterior and hard core.
“Oh?”
Chung Myung let out a short murmur of admiration, then curled one corner of his mouth and leapt straight into the dozens of silk-like waves racing toward him.
Shssssst…
His form blurred as he stepped through the footwork, then suddenly shot upward into the air.
Dark Fragrance Drift.
Using Mount Hua’s unique movement art, Chung Myung’s body began to glide through the blue torrent of sword qi, like plum blossom petals falling in the stillness of a deep night.
It was like a red butterfly threading its way through a violent flood.
Jin Hyeon’s eyes widened.
The level was different.
The martial prowess Mu Jin had always thought he understood had far surpassed his expectations. And Chung Myung’s skill in meeting it was beyond anything Jin Hyeon could have imagined.
This is what a duel between masters looks like.
His entire body tightened on its own.
The advantages and disadvantages of victory or defeat had long since vanished from his mind. There was only one thought left: he had to watch this battle without missing a single instant.
The other second-generation disciples seemed to feel the same way, because not even the sound of breathing could be heard behind him.
Crack-crack-crack!
The waves of sword qi that struck the ground tore deep gashes into the earth.
Who would have imagined that such deceptively soft, silk-like currents could hide that kind of destructive power?
Even a brush of it would split flesh and shatter bone.
But more astonishing than the sword qi itself was not Mu Jin, who kept pouring it out in endless streams, but Chung Myung, who roamed through that monstrous tide as though it were nothing at all.
Whoosh…
A thread of sword qi skimmed perilously close to Chung Myung’s head.
Tap.
Chung Myung lightly braced himself on his sword and vaulted into the air, pressing forward against the current of sword qi as he charged toward Mu Jin.
Unrestrained and light-footed!
Even with a faint smile on his lips, he seemed to be swimming through the air as he advanced on Mu Jin.
That’s more like it!
It was the familiar sword of Wudang that he knew.
It seemed Wudang’s Three Swords had not earned their name for nothing.
But!
“That alone isn’t enough!”
The next instant—
SWEEEEEEAACK!
With the sound of air being cleaved apart, a new wave of sword qi shot toward Chung Myung. Its speed was on an entirely different level from anything before.
But Chung Myung wasn’t startled in the slightest. The smile at the corner of his mouth only deepened.
He casually extended his sword and split the incoming wave with ease.
Slash!
The tide of sword qi surged over him, only to be cut apart left and right by Chung Myung’s blade.
Chung Myung thrust his sword deep into the current, then used the recoil to propel himself upward into the air.
Fwoosh!
The structure of falling waves and the man breaking through them collapsed all at once. Leaping high into the air, Chung Myung descended beneath the moonlight.
Mu Jin’s face stiffened instantly at the sight.
“Taaaat!”
Myeonmyeonbujeol.
Once the sword qi has begun, it is not easy to stop. Now that Chung Myung had escaped its domain, Mu Jin’s sword would only go astray and be wasted.
And that, in turn, left an opening.
Chung Myung, with the moon at his back, came flying straight toward Mu Jin.
“Haaat!”
Refusing to lose the initiative, Mu Jin shouted and thrust out his left palm toward Chung Myung. An energy that stretched long like pulled taffy burst forth toward him.
Soft Palm!
The quintessential Wudang palm technique!
Soft, flowing force like a stream of water. And yet the power within it was no less than any other palm technique in the world.
As he dropped from above, Chung Myung kicked off the air and spun his body around. The force of the Soft Palm brushed his side and shot past into the void.
Then it happened.
Chung Myung’s expression hardened slightly as he twisted in midair. The force that had clearly missed him changed direction again, swooping back to aim for his back.
A rotating palm too?
It was a technique that could never be used without reaching a certain level of mastery in force control.
“Nice!”
Chung Myung drew his leg back sharply toward the force of the Soft Palm rushing at him.
Then he kicked it.
BOOM!
A tremendous blast shattered the space that had only moments ago been filled with light, fleeting impacts. Using the recoil from kicking away the Soft Palm, Chung Myung shot forward at terrifying speed toward Mu Jin.
“Chaaaaat!”
Mu Jin, who had already recalled the sword qi of the Taechung Sword Art in the meantime, hardened his expression and raised his sword.
And then!
With narrowed eyes, Mu Jin began drawing a soft circle in the air with his blade.
White and black sword qi formed a clear pattern in the void.
“It’s the Wisdom Sword!”
Jin Hyeon cried out before he even realized it.
Taiji Wisdom Sword.
The sword that symbolized Wudang, and the highest sword art of Wudang.
An incomprehensible sword art so intricate and complex that, since the founding ancestor’s time, no one had ever fully mastered it.
Has Uncle already been taught the Wisdom Sword?
Jin Hyeon clenched his fist.
He would win.
He had doubted it for a moment, but at this point the match was practically over.
The Taiji Wisdom Sword was an invincible sword art.
No matter how many tricks Chung Myung had up his sleeve, before that sword…
At that very moment!
“No, you bastard!”
Chung Myung’s sword burst with sunset-colored sword qi, then smashed straight into the Taiji pattern hanging in the air without hesitation.
BOOOOOOOM!
The Taiji shattered.
“Kuhk!”
At the impact, Mu Jin spat blood and was hurled backward.
Thud.
Falling to the ground, he clutched at his mouth and coughed up blood several times. The rising internal energy had instantly surged back against itself, injuring his organs.
He stared at Chung Myung with trembling, disbelieving eyes.
“H-How…?”
He had wanted to win.
The opponent was too strong, and if things continued like this, Wudang’s honor would be dragged into the dirt. That was why he had drawn the Taiji Wisdom Sword, even though he had been ordered not to use it yet.
He had only learned one form so far, but it was still the Wisdom Sword! He had believed it would be more than enough to bring Chung Myung down.
And yet, with a single strike.
It had collapsed with a single strike.
Mu Jin couldn’t understand how such a thing could possibly happen.
Tap.
Chung Myung landed on the ground, his face twisted in annoyance. Beneath the mask, his eyes were furrowed into a scowl.
“What the hell are you doing, just when things were getting good?”
“……Hm?”
What was that supposed to mean?
“Ha. This is why kids these days are hopeless. You pull out a sword you haven’t even properly trained and think that makes you hot shit? You wanna die or something?”
“……”
Mu Jin’s eyes flew wide open.
“You’re a Wudang bastard, but you don’t even have the basics down. Hey! Since when does a better sword art automatically make you stronger? Then why bother learning foundational swordsmanship at all? You might as well just learn the strongest thing from the start!”
“Ah…”
“Even if you were gonna die, you should’ve fought with a sword you’re used to. Instead you drag out some move your hands don’t even know yet? If this had been a battlefield, you’d already be dead.”
Chung Myung clicked his tongue.
This is exactly the problem.
It was for this very reason that Chung Myung had passed the Seven Plum Blossoms Sword to Mount Hua instead of the Plum Blossom Sword Art.
There was a reason every sect taught martial arts in stages. Those who had not fully mastered the basics would eventually show their cracks.
What happened if fools who hadn’t even properly learned the Seven Plum Blossoms Sword tried to practice the Plum Blossom Sword Art?
They get eaten by the sword.
Exactly like Mu Jin now.
A sword art beyond one’s level was poison, not a blessing. If Mu Jin hadn’t drawn the Taiji Wisdom Sword, he could have held out for several more exchanges.
“An empty rock is crushed by even a small stone. A half-learned Wisdom Sword is worse than plain Taechung Sword Art!”
Mu Jin’s eyes wavered.
Only then did he understand what mistake he had made.
What I’ve built up…
The Taiji Wisdom Sword.
He had been entranced by that lofty name. He had pulled it out too hastily, believing that if he could just make the Taiji Wisdom Sword his own, he would never lose to anyone in the world.
Martial arts are something you build.
Never something you climb.
Mu Jin painfully pushed himself back to his feet.
Then, with trembling hands, he cupped his fists in salute.
“I thank you for your teaching.”
He had lost.
But if he had not lost, he would never have learned this priceless lesson. So there was no regret, even before such a brutal defeat.
Instead, Mu Jin looked strangely refreshed as he offered Chung Myung a heartfelt expression of gratitude.
Receiving the bow, Chung Myung grinned.
“Hey.”
“Y-Yes?”
“What, you think this is over?”
“……”
“Come here. I’m gonna beat you to death.”
“……”
Alarm bloomed on Mu Jin’s face.
When he looked up, he saw it: the way Chung Myung’s eyes were gleaming with vengeance.
Huh?
Why was this bastard so pissed off?
But as if he had no intention of clearing up that question, Chung Myung tightened his grip on the sword and slowly began to advance.
His face was full of every kind of spite imaginable.