I’ll Show You What Real Ruthlessness Looks Like (5)
The chamber fell silent.
“……”
Even Georakbu Makhoejo couldn’t open his mouth.
He couldn’t even be certain he could defeat Daejagum with ease. No—if he truly crossed blades with Daejagum, he’d have had to gamble his life on it.
But the boy standing before them had just killed that Daejagum as casually as crushing a bug.
For an instant, reality itself seemed to slip away.
On a battlefield where men killed and were killed in turn, losing one’s grip on reality was unthinkable.
And yet what sense did it make to ask them to believe what had just unfolded before their eyes?
“I…”
Makhoejo opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again.
There were moments when no words came. This was one of them.
Daejagum’s severed head, fallen to the floor, still stared wide-eyed in disbelief. That expression perfectly captured the situation now. It even seemed to speak for everyone present.
Crack.
The hand gripping the axe hilt of Jomyeongsan tightened until his knuckles whitened.
As I thought.
It was impossible to understand, but his instincts had been right.
That bastard was no Daoist, of that much he was certain.
He was a killer.
This wasn’t about whether he was strong enough or not.
That bastard had clearly been through countless battles, and in the process had made rivers of blood and mountains of corpses.
If he had shown a savage killing intent, if he had looked like some wild beast, Jomyeongsan might have tried to form another theory.
But now that he had seen it with his own eyes, he had no choice but to be certain.
That bastard cut a man’s throat as naturally as plucking leaves from a branch. Which meant…
He’s terrifyingly used to killing.
Jomyeongsan swallowed hard.
Maybe this is where I die.
Only then did he realize his back was soaked with cold sweat, and at last he made up his mind and stood.
“Let’s combine forces.”
“……”
“What… what did you say?”
“I said let’s gang up on him.”
The people around him tore their eyes away from Chung Myung and stared at Jomyeongsan. Shock and fury filled their faces.
“You’re saying we should gang up on that little brat?”
“You’d better shut that mouth of yours. Age means nothing in the martial world. Strength is what matters. And that man is a true powerhouse. More than that…”
Jomyeongsan trailed off.
It would be meaningless.
No matter how he explained it, there was no way to make them understand how thoroughly steeped in murder that man was. This wasn’t a matter of logic, but of instinct.
How was he supposed to explain what his instincts were screaming at him?
“Anyway, if we don’t combine our forces, we’ll all die.”
It sounded absurd beyond belief.
But everyone there knew the absurd words were not a lie.
They were all men who had spent years rolling around the martial world. If they couldn’t judge an opponent’s strength after seeing a fight with their own eyes, they would never have survived this long.
His breathing never wavered.
He had cut off Daejagum’s head without taking the slightest injury. That meant the actual difference in skill between Daejagum and Chung Myung was far greater than what they had seen.
If Chung Myung had decided not to conserve his stamina and used his full strength, Daejagum might have lost his head to a single strike.
At least the remaining men were capable of that much judgment.
“How can a little monster like that…?”
Sansong Quick Sword Son Myeong let out a low groan.
He couldn’t point out exactly what made Chung Myung so remarkable, but it was obvious that the boy’s abilities had reached a level they could not hope to touch.
Son Myeong bit his lip hard.
“Let’s combine our forces.”
“……”
At his words, everyone fell silent.
“Pride, or whatever else you want to call it, means nothing if you’re dead. And who’s going to know we combined forces here?”
If word got out that they had ganged up on a young Mount Hua disciple, then even if they somehow survived, they would become a laughingstock.
For martial artists, ridicule was something they could never bear.
But this was a sealed underground chamber where no eyes watched.
If they all kept their mouths shut, who would know how Chung Myung was killed?
Their hesitation was brief, and their judgment was swift.
Those who had already leaned toward action stepped forward without a word, and even the more reluctant ones didn’t bother withdrawing. They had all reached the same conclusion: whether by ganging up on him or by any other means, they had to kill Chung Myung if they wanted to live.
Seeing the others glare at him with murderous intent, Chung Myung’s eyes sank coldly.
Was he angry?
Not a chance.
They seemed to think he was furious about the corpses, but he wasn’t particularly upset. In fact, he agreed with them more than anything else.
Coming into the Sword Tomb with weapons in hand meant they had resolved themselves to death. Once you had thrown yourself into a hellscape where men killed one another, it was meaningless to debate the rights and wrongs of killing methods.
Hong Dae-gwang clearly didn’t think that way, but Chung Myung, who had lived through a war so vicious it dragged men down into mutual annihilation, found that thought perfectly natural.
He had seen far more horrible sights than this.
In a battlefield, fury that felt like it would tear through flesh, passion that seemed ready to burst the heart—those things were worthless.
Why had he killed Daejagum?
The reason was simple.
Daejagum had tried to kill him.
Since waking up in this body, Chung Myung had never once stood on a true battlefield. Childish attacks, or sparring matches where people maintained a polite front, could never be called a battlefield.
Only when there was murderous malice so dense you knew you would cut down the other man even if your own arm was torn off could it truly be called a battlefield.
And once you stood on such a battlefield, you could not afford to hold back.
That was all there was to it.
That was what Chung Myung had learned over the long years of war.
Drip.
Bright red blood ran down his Plum Blossom Sword and fell to the floor.
Chung Myung, face cold as ice, watched the men inching toward him with weapons drawn.
Nine of them.
Preserve as much strength as possible and kill all nine.
“You little… damn it, I can’t even bring myself to call you a brat.”
Georakbu Makhoejo twisted his face into a grimace and took point. Then he thrust his axe, its blade flashing blue and sharp, straight ahead.
“Take it as an honor. If you hadn’t been this strong, we’d never have resorted to something like ganging up on you.”
Chung Myung stared at Makhoejo and spoke in a low voice.
“If you’re done talking, come at me.”
“……”
Makhoejo ground his teeth.
It was humiliating.
But he knew this much: a life lived shamefully was a thousand times, no, ten thousand times better than dying with one’s pride intact.
Besides, this was a place where no one would ever know how they died. Pride was worth less than a single coin here.
“I’ll give you credit for your nerve. Even if you die here, I’ll make sure the name of Mount Hua survives in this world.”
Even in that moment, Chung Myung was coolly assessing his opponents’ strength.
Ganging up on him?
He didn’t particularly feel like criticizing it.
Those old-fashioned martial purists might call combining forces disgraceful, but that was a joke. What, were they supposed to line up and die one by one just because the opponent was stronger?
This wasn’t a game.
There were no rules in a fight to the death. Poison, ambushes, hanging on to someone’s pant leg—anything was fair if it meant surviving.
But apparently not everyone thought that way.
“To think nine grown martial artists would gang up on a child younger than themselves. So surviving the martial world requires thicker skin than I expected.”
Step. Step.
One man walked over slowly and took his place beside Chung Myung.
Chung Myung flicked his gaze sideways and looked at the man standing beside him.
Baek Cheon.
He stood there with a faint smile.
Apparently he had stepped forward to help Chung Myung.
Chung Myung’s response to that brotherly display was brutally simple.
“What are you doing? You’re in the way. Move.”
“……Even if I’m helping, that’s a bit…”
Baek Cheon let out a sigh. Then, ignoring Chung Myung’s protest, he drew his sword and pointed it forward.
“Endure being in the way.”
“……Huh?”
“I am your martial uncle, and I am your comrade. What kind of martial uncle would stand by and just watch while his martial nephew fights for his life?”
No, I’d prefer that, actually.
You’re in the way.
“He’s right, martial uncle.”
And apparently moved by the speech, Yoon Jong hurried over and took his place on Chung Myung’s other side, opposite Baek Cheon.
“There’s no way I could just stand by and watch while my junior is fighting for his life.”
“……”
“Ah, I agree with that.”
Jo Gul.
“I’m in too.”
Yu I-seol.
Chung Myung looked at the Mount Hua disciples filling in to his left and right, then let out a long, exasperated sigh.
This is why kids are a problem.
Watching them leap in to fight without even understanding the situation made irritation bubble up in him.
“You’ll only learn when your arm gets cut off or your neck gets sliced. Do these guys look easy to you?”
“I know they’re not easy.”
Baek Cheon snapped back coldly.
“But if we keep hiding behind the fact that our opponent is strong, Mount Hua will spend forever just watching you fight. We may be in the way now, but if we keep fighting like this, someday we’ll be able to support you too.”
“……”
“If you want to shove me aside, then beat me down. I’d rather die than stand around watching.”
Chung Myung let out a deep sigh.
But…
This guy is actually making sense.
Chung Myung knew Baek Cheon wasn’t wrong. To grow, one had to face real combat. And the more dangerous the combat, the greater the growth.
In other words, for the sake of Mount Hua’s disciples, there were times when even tasks Chung Myung could handle needed to be left to them.
I know that in my head.
How should he put it?
Chung Myung had never raised children, but he thought he could understand a parent’s heart just a little. Even if you knew they had to be thrown into rough ground to grow, the moment it looked even slightly dangerous, you were the one who wanted to step in first.
Chung Myung glared at the comrades gathered around him and pouted.
“I’m not helping even if you look like you’re about to die.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to help in the first place! You overestimate your own decency way too much sometimes!”
“Jo Gul, talk to me privately later.”
“……Huh?”
The disciples looked at Jo Gul with pity.
He really did cross the line whenever he got carried away.
Then Chung Myung looked ahead, tightening his grip on his sword.
How should he describe this?
This feels weird.
They weren’t reliable at all. It felt like the burden had only grown heavier.
And yet…
- Let’s go, sahyung!
- Come on, junior! Let’s show them Mount Hua’s power.
- Save some of them for me this time, Chung Myung sahyung!
Chung Myung lowered his head slightly.
Strange.
It was really strange.
They weren’t reliable at all… and yet…
Besides, the Mount Hua of that time was gone now.
No matter how hard they tried, they could never go back.
But…
Chung Myung clenched his lips tight and shouted,
“Let’s go! Smash those bastards’ heads in!”
“Taaaat!”
“Haaap!”
The disciples roared and charged forward.
Keeping pace with them without falling behind, Chung Myung bit down hard on his lip.
Sahyung. Great martial brother.
My Mount Hua…
is here too.