Let’s Go Catch Those Wudang Bastards! (1)
"We join in too! What are you doing, you beggar freaks!"
Hong Dae-gwang roared the words at the top of his lungs.
Before they could even do anything, the Mount Hua disciples were already engaging the enemy in front of them.
Damn it!
They’d been beaten to the punch.
For Hong Dae-gwang, that was deeply humiliating.
What, have those bastards got no fear at all?
Why had the Beggars’ Sect earned a place among the Nine Sects and One Gang?
To speak plainly, their martial arts were somewhat inferior compared to the other orthodox sects. In terms of the number of masters or the quality of their techniques, the Beggars’ Sect might not even have qualified for a seat among the Gupailbang.
And yet there was a reason they stood there so proudly.
Information?
Ridiculous.
That was only a side benefit.
The true reason people accepted the Beggars’ Sect as one of the Nine Sects and One Gang was that their sense of justice was no weaker than that of any other sect.
Though their strength might fall short, the Beggars’ Sect always fought at the very front.
Whenever a crisis struck the martial world, whenever evil men rose up, the Beggars’ Sect had always gone first and fought without sparing their lives.
That was what filled the beggars’ shoulders with pride.
Some dismissed them as people with nothing to lose, saying beggars didn’t know how precious their lives were, but charging fearlessly at injustice was the Beggars’ Sect’s pride.
But now Hong Dae-gwang was looking at people even bolder than the Beggars’ Sect.
As for the Mount Hua Divine Dragon, fine.
He’d long since known that one was crazy.
But the Mount Hua disciples certainly weren’t sane either. If they had eyes, they ought to have no trouble judging their opponents’ strength, and yet those bastards hurled themselves at enemies stronger than themselves without a flicker of hesitation.
And moreover...
"Aaaagh! You little bastard, you don’t know your place!"
Makhoe’s axe swung at a speed that sent a chill through the spine.
But Baek Cheon, facing him, merely stepped back a little and cleanly evaded the fierce strike.
"It’s only natural to respect your elders."
Baek Cheon snapped coldly.
"But you look like you’ve simply grown old for nothing, so I don’t think respect is necessary."
"You little shit!"
Makhoe rolled his eyes and charged at Baek Cheon. But Baek Cheon slipped past the attack by the narrowest margin and thrust his sword into the gap toward Georyeokbu.
Watching it, Hong Dae-gwang let out an admiring gasp.
Doesn’t look it, but he’s surprisingly good at getting under people’s skin.
If Chung Myung spoke like he was swinging a giant club, Baek Cheon was more like a smiling man driving a knife in over and over again. Thanks to that, Georyeokbu’s rage was shooting to the heavens as he lunged at Baek Cheon like a madman.
And Baek Cheon was handling him splendidly.
Of course, if they met head-on, Baek Cheon would be no match for Georyeokbu. But by using his speed and precision, he had at least turned it into a fight he was not losing.
Considering his age, that was truly astonishing.
And he wasn’t the only one.
"Haaah!"
Jo Gul’s sword stabbed sharply toward Sond Myeong, the Sandong Quick Sword. As his nickname suggested, Sond Myeong was famed for incredible speed. But no matter how anyone looked at it, Jo Gul’s sword was not falling behind by much at all.
And then...
"Geol! Don’t get excited!"
Yoon Jong stood firmly behind him, supporting him.
Whenever Sond Myeong tried to exploit an opening in Jo Gul, Yoon Jong stepped in to help and deflect the blow with his sword.
Yoon Jong’s sword was slow. But that slowness did not mean he lacked skill. Unlike Jo Gul, he used a slower, more deliberate sword style. Even so, it was unmistakably the sword of Mount Hua.
Jo Gul’s quick, lively sword and Yoon Jong’s steady, weighty sword meshed like interlocking gears as they held off Sond Myeong.
Which meant the one fighting them was having a miserable time of it.
You donkey-brained bastards!
Given their ages, they couldn’t have been working together for more than a little over a decade. And yet they were using their swords like seasoned veterans who had spent decades fighting side by side.
Each covered the other’s openings, and each magnified the other’s strength.
Where on earth did these bastards come from?
Sond Myeong, having stepped back, shot a sidelong glance to the side.
Being pushed around by two boys was humiliating enough, but that shame was nothing compared to the real disgrace being suffered by the man fighting beside him, the Azure Sword Scholar, No Gwang.
"You, you damned..."
The Azure Sword Scholar, No Gwang, was currently having a disastrous time against a young girl from Mount Hua.
Even if the Azure Sword Scholar was a notch below the others here, there was no way he should be getting pushed around by a woman who looked barely old enough to be in her twenties.
But there was no denying what was happening. The female disciple of Mount Hua opposite him was pressing him mercilessly with an exquisitely flowing sword.
Just looking at that sword made even Sond Myeong himself unable to predict the outcome with any confidence. Cold sweat trickled down his brow.
When did Mount Hua become this strong?
Of course, everyone knew Mount Hua had once been a sect that contended for the title of the strongest under heaven. But that had been possible because Mount Hua’s elders and senior leaders had been extraordinarily powerful.
No one had ever heard of Mount Hua’s young disciples being this exceptional.
And that alone was enough to drive a man insane, but...
Clang!
Sond Myeong, having parried Yoon Jong’s sword, gritted his teeth and swung low, as though to slice open his opponent’s waist.
You let your guard down, you little brat!
That was when it happened.
Kaang!
The sword that had nearly cleaved open Yoon Jong’s waist was suddenly knocked aside by a streak of incoming sword qi.
Immediately after, an irritated voice stabbed into his ears.
"Hey!"
At the same time, Yoon Jong’s shoulders hunched.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t let your guard down! I told you that over and over, didn’t I? Did you stuff sword screens in your ears or something? How can you hear me say it a hundred times and still not get the message?!"
"......"
"I said I’d handle it alone! But no, you just had to barge in and make life harder for everyone! Ugh, what sort of fate do I have?"
That damn nagging bastard!
Yoon Jong had no response, though he was inwardly churning with frustration.
Of course, the owner of that voice was Chung Myung.
And right now, in the midst of taking on the remaining six enemies at once, he was also flinging out sword qi in between to support the other Mount Hua disciples. Madman behavior, plain and simple.
So there was nothing for Yoon Jong to say, even if he had ten mouths.
Chung Myung sent sword qi flying here and there to support Yu I-seol and Baek Cheon at the same time.
"Concentrate! Concentrate! What, do you think someone’s gonna clap if you die? If you die, huh?! Honestly, you’re better off just dying than ending up like this!"
Yoon Jong glanced at Chung Myung’s back.
Strange.
Even though all that came out of his mouth was irritation, the voice somehow sounded slightly exhilarated.
Is he in a good mood?
That was insane.
Was it even possible to be in a good mood while fighting with your life on the line?
"Stop thinking about something else!"
That ghostlike bastard.
But Chung Myung wasn’t wrong. Yoon Jong quickly cleared the stray thoughts from his mind and focused every nerve on Sond Myeong.
Thinking could wait. Right now, he had to concentrate solely on bringing this man down.
Watching the Mount Hua disciples press the enemies back instead of the other way around, Hong Dae-gwang could only feel bewildered.
"Branch Leader! Where should we strike?"
No, telling me that doesn’t help...
Hong Dae-gwang bit his lip and shouted,
"There! Hit the place where those bastards are gathering! Go and latch onto their ankles if you have to!"
"Yes!"
When he finished speaking, Hong Dae-gwang leaped into the air and charged toward the enemies Chung Myung was facing. Soaring over Chung Myung’s head, Hong Dae-gwang pulled out his dog-beating staff and swung it down on the enemies.
From behind him came Chung Myung’s voice, sounding almost moved.
"Now even the beggars are butting in. Ha... tsk."
Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that.
As the Beggars’ Sect disciples joined in and began pressing the attack, the men holding back Chung Myung slowly started retreating.
But one of them.
Just one man paid no attention to the Beggars’ Sect at all and kept his gaze fixed solely on Chung Myung.
Janggang Ink Blade, Jo Myeongsan.
From beginning to end, his attention had remained fixed on Chung Myung alone.
He didn’t know what the others thought, but he knew this much.
If he couldn’t bring Chung Myung down, then the rest of the battle meant nothing. To survive here, he had to bring down that monster by any means necessary.
"Hmm?"
Chung Myung also looked at Jo Myeongsan with interest.
Well, look at that?
The killing intent was no ordinary thing.
As though there were no one else in the world but Chung Myung, every one of Jo Myeongsan’s senses was digging into him.
Looking at that razor-sharp aura, Chung Myung’s mouth curled up slightly before he even realized it.
This one’s real.
Chung Myung had even treated Wudang’s Mu Jin like a nobody, and yet he was responding to Jo Myeongsan’s presence now.
Jo Myeongsan slowly raised his blade and pointed it at Chung Myung.
"I am Jo Myeongsan."
"Chung Myung."
No more words were necessary.
What remained was only battle.
Jo Myeongsan’s robe seemed to swell for an instant, and then his body shot forward with terrifying speed.
At the same time came the slash.
The great blade of Jo Myeongsan, bright with a blue aura, struck at Chung Myung.
Kwaaaang!
Chung Myung’s body lurched.
Even though he had blocked it squarely, he hadn’t been able to disperse all the force carried by the blade. It was an overwhelmingly fierce and heavy strike.
But that was only the beginning.
"Tahat!"
Jo Myeongsan, putting everything he had into it, swung his blade again and again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each strike carried terrifying force. He had poured in so much internal energy that the qi surrounding his blade swelled until the weapon itself looked twice as large.
But the weight in that blade couldn’t be explained by internal energy alone.
Jo Myeongsan’s obsession and resolve, the fact that he had bet everything on this battle, added an even greater burden to the blade.
Chung Myung’s eyes grew calm.
That’s more like it.
His wrists ached, and it felt as though his insides were twisting. Feeling that weight through his entire body, Chung Myung bared his teeth.
"Haaahhhhh!"
Even so, Jo Myeongsan shouted and increased the speed of his strikes. Step and smash, then step again and smash. The successive blade blows became like a storm of blue light.
He poured in every last scrap.
He emptied out every ounce of internal energy left in his dantian, wrung out every drop of blood still in his body, and struck again and again.
A storm of blades.
Because of it, even Jo Myeongsan himself could no longer see Chung Myung’s form. And yet in front of that terrifying storm of blades, it felt as though nothing could possibly survive.
And then, at that moment...
Something strange entered Jo Myeongsan’s eyes.
Petals?
Through the raging storm of blades, a single red flower petal drifted up.
The floating petal dipped down again, then was nudged aside by the wind created by the slashes. But then it rose once more, flying against the current.
Like the last petal swept away by a summer typhoon.
And that petal, almost dreamlike, drifted up and settled softly on Jo Myeongsan’s forehead.
"......"
By then, Jo Myeongsan’s blade had stopped.
For a moment, silence.
As if the intense battle until just now had been a lie, the air around Chung Myung and Jo Myeongsan was perfectly still.
Jo Myeongsan looked quietly at Chung Myung.
As though waiting for something.
Chung Myung gave him a light nod.
"That was a good fight."
Jo Myeongsan’s vision blurred.
His legs lost strength, and every sensation in his body began to fade.
Feeling his body collapse to the ground, Jo Myeongsan unconsciously let a faint smile appear on his lips.
I was acknowledged.
Even before he had fully hit the ground, his breath was already gone, but on the lips of the dead man there remained a rather fine smile.