Let’s Go Catch Those Wudang Bastards! (2)
Samsal-gwi’s eyes twitched narrowly.
*How did things end up like this?*
The plan hadn’t been bad.
In the end, when it came to a struggle like this, the key was to reduce your rivals. More than anything, it was important to secure allies of your own.
Once sects like Wudang and Cheoyoung Gate had entered the fray, he was at his limit if he tried to handle things alone. So he had to find anyone he could bring over to his side, forge an alliance, and secure the best possible force.
And in fact, he had done exactly that. He had allied smoothly and gathered a usable fighting force.
Up to that point, everything had been perfect.
At least, until those ridiculous bastards showed up.
"Aaaaargh! You damn bastard! Fight me properly!"
"I am fighting you properly! More than enough!"
The scholarly-looking bastard in white robes was needling Georyeokbu while trading blows with him.
He seemed leisurely enough, but Samsal-gwi knew the truth. That bastard Baek Cheon was walking a tightrope where a single mistake would mean death.
And yet, with every exchange, he kept prodding Georyeokbu’s temper, making sure the brute couldn’t turn and charge the other Mount Hua disciples instead.
The other Mount Hua disciples were the same.
Over the years, Samsal-gwi had seen countless sect bastards swarm people and act like tyrants. That was why he’d never particularly liked those who belonged to some faction or another.
But these ones were different.
The trust binding them together was unlike anything he had ever seen in a sect before. They hurled insults at each other with their mouths, but with their bodies they strained to lighten one another’s burden as much as possible.
*We can’t beat them.*
Just those bastards alone were troublesome enough, but that Chung Myung bastard was a monster through and through. Samsal-gwi himself wasn’t even sure he could withstand fifty moves against the Yangtze Dark Blade, yet that blue-haired little freak had killed him in just ten.
It was the kind of feat even a sect elder from an ordinary faction would have struggled with, and that brat had done it like it was nothing.
*Monster bastard.*
Samsal-gwi lived by one rule.
Fight enemies he could beat. Avoid those he couldn’t.
And Chung Myung clearly belonged to the latter category. Right now, even if he died and came back to life, he still wouldn’t be able to defeat Chung Myung.
"Aaaaaagh!"
Even now, those he had allied with were screaming and collapsing one after another. The moment their balance broke, their formation collapsed in an instant before they could recover, and the price was death. Or injury.
*Run.*
Samsal-gwi made up his mind.
Then he quietly backed away toward the rear.
In the first place, this wasn’t a sealed chamber. If he decided to flee, he could run through the caves behind him anytime he wanted. If he’d known those Mount Hua bastards were this strong, some of the others would have fled long ago.
At least being at the very back had been his luck.
*If I get away and meet up with the martial artists who went ahead, that’ll do it.*
Right now, things were divided into three groups.
Wudang. Those chasing Wudang. And those right here.
This place ought to be divided further into the alliance, Mount Hua, and Beggars’ Sect, but that wasn’t the important part.
What mattered was that even if he fled from here, there was somewhere to regroup. If the battle between Wudang and the pursuers hadn’t yet been decided, then there was still room for a reversal.
So…
Thwack!
The man struck by the flat of Chung Myung’s sword spat blood and flew backward. As if that had been the signal, Samsal-gwi twisted around and threw himself into lightness arts at full speed toward the corridor.
Whoosh!
His body sliced through the wind as he shot forward. Had he ever run this desperately in his life?
Even in ordinary times, Samsal-gwi had confidence in his lightness arts. If he was running with everything he had like this, then there was no way those Mount Hua bastards—so busy fighting—could possibly catch him.
*It’s not the strong who survive. It’s the survivors who are strong.*
Samsal-gwi clenched his jaw.
He might be fleeing now, but there were even more people ahead. They might be weaker than the ones here, but in numbers they far surpassed them.
If he could coax them properly, wiping out those Mount Hua bastards wouldn’t be difficult at all.
Samsal-gwi swore he would repay this humiliation no matter what and drove strength into his legs….
"You little shit, that’s fucking cheap."
At that moment, an enormous impact slammed into Samsal-gwi’s solar plexus.
"Ghk!"
The pain felt like his airway had been wrung shut. Samsal-gwi lost his balance and rolled across the floor.
Thud. Thud! Thud!
Unable to control the force of his own sprint, his head kept smashing against the ground again and again before bouncing and tumbling onward.
"Grrr…."
Shivering from the awful pain, Samsal-gwi jerked his head up. And there, in his line of sight, was a face he never wanted to see.
Chung Myung.
That monstrous bastard clicked his tongue at Samsal-gwi.
"Hey, you idiot! I don’t care if this alliance was thrown together at the last minute, but your comrades are fighting for their lives and you run off alone? What kind of pathetic bastard are you?"
"…."
Samsal-gwi’s eyes trembled.
No….
This guy had been fighting the others a second ago, so when the hell had he caught up…?
Samsal-gwi turned his head to the side. He was already far enough into the exit that he couldn’t take in the whole cave, but he could clearly see several people who had been facing Chung Myung lying sprawled on the ground.
*T-that fast?*
That meant the instant Samsal-gwi started running, Chung Myung had beaten down everyone he was fighting and come after him.
Utterly unable to make sense of the situation, Samsal-gwi stared blankly at Chung Myung, even forgetting the pain.
Then the mouth of that yaksha—no, Chung Myung—opened.
"Hey."
"…."
Chung Myung tilted his head side to side.
Crack. Crack.
The joints in his neck popped loudly.
"A man’s got to have some loyalty."
Something surged up in Samsal-gwi’s chest.
Clenching his teeth, he spat the words as though chewing them.
"L-loyalty? You expect me to risk my life over that damn loyalty?"
"Oh?"
As Samsal-gwi bared his teeth, a gleam flickered in Chung Myung’s eyes.
"Damn it! We just met today! What loyalty are you even talking about, you bastard!"
"Hm… well, that’s true too."
Chung Myung nodded broadly, as if in agreement. Samsal-gwi’s eyes flew wide.
Huh?
He agreed?
"Don’t worry. I didn’t catch you because you were some disloyal bastard."
…Then why?
"If I let you go like this, you’d definitely go running to those guys ahead of us and spill everything about us, wouldn’t you?"
"…."
Chung Myung smiled faintly.
"I’ve got a hard time putting up with that sort of thing."
Watching Chung Myung slowly approach him, Samsal-gwi finally squeezed his eyes shut.
"Huuuuuu."
Yoon Jong drew a deep breath.
He hadn’t realized it while the fight was happening, but now that the battle was over, his whole body was trembling.
*So this is real combat.*
It was completely different from sparring. The crushing pressure of having your life on the line dulled the blade’s edge and clouded your judgment.
Jo Gul had collapsed straight onto the floor. His back was drenched with sweat. Yoon Jong dragged his heavy legs over and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You did well."
"No, Senior Brother. You’re the one who worked hardest."
Jo Gul’s voice was uncharacteristically subdued.
"They say you have to experience real combat to understand your own skill. Only now do I get what that means. I had no idea I was this much of a mess."
A mess….
That was a little odd to hear.
Even if they had relied on Chung Myung’s help, Yoon Jong and Jo Gul had handled Sonmyeong between the two of them. If Mount Hua ever learned of that, the sect would be in an uproar. Sonmyeong’s reputation in the martial world was that great. The two of them were not even close to being in the same league.
And yet the reason Jo Gul said such things was simple.
*His standards are absurdly high.*
Because he kept measuring himself against what Chung Myung showed, and what Chung Myung demanded, he couldn’t even celebrate a victory.
He had only just thought he was reaching the level Chung Myung talked about, only to discover in real combat that he couldn’t even display half of what he actually possessed.
"There’s no need to be disappointed."
At that moment, Baek Cheon approached them and said,
"It’s only natural that you can’t show your full ability in real combat. Everyone wants to perform as well in battle as they do in practice, but that’s impossible for anyone."
"Ah…."
"Don’t be disappointed, but do face your current skill honestly. The skill that comes out in real combat is your true skill."
"Yes, Sasuk."
"I’ll keep that in mind."
Baek Cheon nodded quietly.
And just as he was about to add something else, a low snicker came from behind him.
"Krrr! That is! Your! True! Skill!"
"…I told you not to do that."
"Heeheeheehee."
Veins throbbed on Baek Cheon’s forehead.
Chung Myung was dragging someone by the leg as he walked over. Baek Cheon didn’t bother checking who the collapsed man was. It was probably the bastard who had tried to flee earlier.
Chung Myung tossed the man he’d dragged into a corner. The area was already packed with those the Mount Hua disciples had hauled in.
There were no dead.
The two people Chung Myung had personally handled were dead, but the others had merely lost consciousness. Some had been injured, so their condition was uncertain, but no one had been deliberately killed by the Mount Hua disciples.
Baek Cheon understood.
This wasn’t mercy. It was simply that the Mount Hua disciples still weren’t prepared to kill.
Unlike Chung Myung.
*Still too soft.*
Up until now, that hadn’t been a problem. But in a more desperate situation, on a far more horrific battlefield, any hesitation to kill would certainly become a weakness.
You didn’t need to go out of your way to kill people. You shouldn’t. But if the need arose, you had to be prepared to do it. Only then could you survive this brutal martial world.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
"…Nothing."
Baek Cheon sighed at Chung Myung’s sly grin.
*I can’t keep up with him.*
Chung Myung’s image of slicing off Dae-ra Sword’s head without the slightest hesitation had burned itself into his mind. That sight probably wouldn’t leave him for a long time.
Baek Cheon had stepped in not only to help Chung Myung, but also because he didn’t want him to kill any more people.
It might be called softness. Maybe that was even true. But at the very least, one who walked the Dao’s path should avoid unnecessary killing.
No, a person should.
Chung Myung casually turned his head and looked toward where Georyeokbu and his group lay unconscious and sprawled across the floor.
"Hmm."
If Baek Cheon hadn’t intervened, Chung Myung would have killed every one of them without hesitation.
No—if it had been the Chung Myung of the past, he would have killed them all even if Baek Cheon had stepped in.
He still didn’t think that was wrong. Anyone who aimed for another’s life should be prepared to die themselves. That was the law of the martial world.
Still, it was more like…
*Well, this might not be bad.*
You couldn’t surpass the past by remaining exactly as you had been.
It wasn’t Chung Myung who had to change. It was Mount Hua that had to change. If these people were willing to push at his back, then leaning on their shoulders a little wasn’t such a bad thing.
"Ready?"
"For what?"
Chung Myung grinned.
"Let’s go catch those Wudang bastards now!"
At Chung Myung’s words, the Mount Hua disciples all grinned back.