I Dug My Own Grave (1)
"What do you mean, you can't?"
"……."
"Didn’t you just say with your own mouth that you could cut Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron? And now you’re telling me you can’t?"
The room turned cold.
It was as if a knife had been flung straight into his chest.
But there was no need to worry. The tongue was faster than the eye.
"R-right, that's true."
"What does that mean? Can you cut it or not?"
"I-I can cut it."
"Hmm?"
Hyun Sang tilted his head, his brow furrowing.
"Be more clear. Why are you……."
At that moment, Hyun Young shouted in outrage.
"Why are you shutting our kid down like that?"
"……W-when did I ever?"
"He’s about to get sick from anxiety, so keep your mouth shut!"
"……."
Hyun Young clicked his tongue twice and turned back to Chung Myung. Watching his irritated face blossom into a strangely radiant smile in an instant made Chung Myung feel an uncanny chill creep down his spine.
"Alright, Chung Myung. You must have your reasons, right?"
"R-right?"
"Then let’s hear the reason first."
Ah.
It was as though a halo shone behind Elder Hyun Young. This was what a true Daoist…….
Huh?
A halo was Buddhist?
……Well, anyway.
"Ahem."
Chung Myung cleared his throat.
"Ah, of course I can cut Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron. Obviously. That’s why I made the cauldron."
"Yes, yes."
"But I worked myself so hard making that cauldron that I really drained my vitality."
"Mm?"
Hyun Young’s eyes widened.
"Are you saying you were injured internally?"
"Well, that is…… I poured so much inner power into making the Jaso-dan too……."
"Exactly, exactly! You overdid it!"
"Yes! That’s exactly right!"
Chung Myung sighed.
But then Hyun Young tilted his head again, looking suspicious.
"But…… if your vitality was damaged, why didn’t you take the Jaso-dan?"
……That’s awfully sharp of you.
"Ah. I haven’t eaten it yet."
"Then hurry up and take the Jaso-dan to recover. What’s the problem?"
"Uh…… that’s."
Chung Myung’s eyes darted around wildly.
For now, he needed to say anything at all and get out of this situation!
"If I take the Jaso-dan this time, I think I might be able to take another step forward, so I want to rest my body a little more and take it carefully."
"Ohhh!"
"You mean you can go even further? Good heavens!"
Don’t be impressed!
There’s no such thing!
Cold sweat began to bead on Chung Myung’s forehead.
Why in the world was this turning out like this?
He wanted to scream.
I dug my own grave.
Hyeon Jong, who had listened to the entire exchange, neatly summarized the situation.
"So you’re saying that if you rest your body and take the Jaso-dan to recover from your internal injuries, you’ll be able to cut Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron."
"Yes. Exactly, Sect Leader."
"Then how many days will you need to rest?"
"Uh…… I think I’ll need about seven days."
"That long?"
Chung Myung clutched at his dantian.
"I didn’t say anything, but…… this really is a severe internal injury……."
He made a pained face, and Hyun Young immediately rolled his eyes back and began choking on his own spit.
"You brat! If you were injured internally, you should’ve said so right away! I had no idea and was just happy all this time! Where does it hurt? Is it bad?"
Huh?
Wait, wait. He wasn’t supposed to be this serious about it.
But Hyun Young wasn’t the only one.
Hyeon Jong and Hyun Sang were also looking at him with grave expressions.
"Chung Myung."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"Nothing matters more than taking care of your body."
"……."
"Forget what I said and go rest immediately. Take as long as you need. If you force your qi upward while injured internally, something truly terrible could happen. And all the other elders must refrain from saying anything that might burden Chung Myung from now on!"
"Yes, Sect Leader!"
Uh…….
Seeing the mood turn so serious so suddenly, Chung Myung gave an awkward smile.
This is seriously screwed.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
"Looks like he’s coming."
Jo Gul snorted as he watched Chung Myung running toward Baekmae Hall.
"What kind of mess is he stirring up now?"
"Guess we’ll find out if we ask."
Jo Gul, blocking the entrance halfway, raised a hand toward Chung Myung charging straight at him.
"Chung Myung. Sect Leader said……."
"Move!"
Whoosh!
"Aaaaghhhhh!"
Chung Myung sent Jo Gul, who was blocking the entrance, flying far away and then shot into Baekmae Hall.
"……."
Watching that scene, Yoon Jong’s eyes twitched slightly.
What the hell is going on?
It had been a long time since he’d seen that bastard this desperate.
Jo Gul, who had been flung away, didn’t even register in his mind. All Yoon Jong felt was unease at how frantic Chung Myung looked.
And then.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
With heavy footsteps, Chung Myung reappeared at the entrance to Baekmae Hall.
Yoon Jong looked at him with a dry expression.
"……Chung Myung."
"What?"
"What crime have you committed? Don’t do this—think it through again. I’ll beg with you."
For good reason, too. The sight of him stumbling out with a huge bundle on his back made him look exactly like a fugitive sneaking off in the dead of night. It wasn’t nighttime now, of course, but still.
"Sahyung."
"Yes. Go on."
"I’m going down the mountain for a few days."
"……Where?"
"I’m going to take care of my body in Huayin for a while, so don’t look for me! And don’t come looking either!"
Chung Myung, think this through a little more.
Only a lunatic would go looking for you unless they absolutely had to.
"Did you tell the Sect Leader?"
"Yep!"
"Good. Then have a nice trip."
Preferably don’t come back, either.
Do think about it, Chung Myung. Life outside Mount Hua might actually be happier.
"Then I’m off!"
"……Uh, right."
Without another word, Chung Myung ran out through the mountain gate. Watching his retreating back, Yoon Jong wore a pained expression.
What a shame.
Just the fact that Chung Myung would be gone for a few days would bring spring to Mount Hua.
But if spring came to Mount Hua, then somewhere else winter would arrive instead.
Yoon Jong closed his eyes briefly and offered a silent prayer for those who would have to endure that winter.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Eunha Merchant Guild, Huayin Branch.
Bang!
"Wha—."
He had wanted to shout, "What bastard is it?" with all the dignity he could muster, but unfortunately, Hwang Jong-ui’s wish went unfulfilled.
Why is that Taoist priest bursting in here?
The reason was simple. The one who had kicked the door open as if to smash it to pieces was someone he knew very well.
In the past, the man he used to call Little Taoist.
But now someone he could no longer call that: Chung Myung.
"Isn’t that Mount Hua Divine Dragon, young hero?"
"Please don’t use that weird title. Just call me Chung Myung."
"……And why would I be able to do that?"
Hwang Jong-ui looked at Chung Myung with fresh amazement.
He had only met him two years ago, yet in that short span, Chung Myung’s standing had risen to truly monstrous heights.
The greatest genius among the younger generation.
The Divine Dragon of Mount Hua.
The sword prodigy born of Mount Hua.
People called Chung Myung by countless other titles besides those. Perhaps the ones who felt his changed status the least were Chung Myung himself and the people of Mount Hua.
Given Mount Hua’s enormous influence here in Huayin, where even the air seemed to carry its weight, Chung Myung’s name was now more famous than Hyeon Jong, Mount Hua’s Sect Leader. What more was there to say?
The problem was that, despite his fame, the man himself had not changed in the slightest.
People usually used "steadfast" as a compliment, but when those two words—steadfastness and Chung Myung—came together, they produced a deeply tragic reaction.
"So what brings you here……?"
"I need a room."
"……A room?"
"Yes."
Chung Myung nodded.
"I have some work to do, but it’d be a little awkward to do it at Mount Hua. Give me a room and don’t let anyone near me."
"……That’s not a difficult request."
Hwang Mun-yak had already ordered that whatever Chung Myung asked for, they should carry it out without making a fuss. And even without that order, Hwang Jong-ui’s answer wouldn’t have changed.
How many places in the world could refuse the Mount Hua Divine Dragon when he asked for a room?
Even Shaolin would probably provide the room first and only then think about the consequences.
If there was any problem at all, it was this…….
"For meals, please make sure I get three hearty, nutritious meals a day. As for alcohol, give me the finest stuff! Ah, and at night, you can throw in another bottle. No, make it two!"
"……."
The problem was that he was a Daoist.
"Is that all you need?"
"I’ll take care of everything else myself, so just make sure the food is ready."
"Mm. Very well. We’ll do as you wish."
"Ah…… and!"
"Yes?"
Chung Myung grinned innocently.
"I rushed down here and forgot to bring money, so give me some."
"……."
He really was a Taoist priest.
He was a Taoist priest, all right.
Guided by Hwang Jong-ui, Chung Myung took possession of a room, repeated his warning that no one was to approach, and then locked the door behind him.
Then he unpacked his bag and took out a stack of blank booklets, along with brush, inkstone, and ink.
"Ughhh. Better to live than suffer!"
It was a terrible situation, but if he looked at it the other way around, it was a good opportunity. If he could create a situation where the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art was discovered inside the sect leader’s hidden treasury, no one would suspect a thing.
Who would ever imagine that a lunatic insane enough to break through a hidden treasury made of Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron, leave behind a manual, and walk away would exist?
The problem is that I’m the one here.
Chung Myung groaned and stared at the neatly stacked books.
Just tossing down a manual or two won’t cut it.
No matter how much Chung Myung was quietly recognized as Mount Hua’s strongest, his actual position was still little more than the youngest disciple.
If someone like that were to teach the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art, the whole thing would look strange no matter how you sliced it.
So rather than just the manual itself, it would be better if Un Geom or Hyun Sang could understand enough from it. Then, through their guidance, everyone else could naturally receive the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
The problem was…….
Ha, damn it. Could those guys really understand this from the manual alone?
Why was the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art called the essence of Mount Hua and Mount Hua’s representative martial art?
Even among comparable sword sects like Wudang, they possessed not only the Taicheong Sword Art but also many other high-level sword forms such as the Great Yin-Yang Sword Art and Morning Sun Sword.
But Mount Hua had survived with only the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
Put kindly, that made them tenacious. Put bluntly, they were a sect so fixated on a single well that they had no flexibility whatsoever.
Why?
Because the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art was that difficult.
Even if one began learning it in one’s youth, it was only upon reaching middle age that one might finally understand what completion even meant. It wasn’t that there was no further stage; it was that most people spent their entire lives practicing the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art without ever daring to move on to the next level.
And Chung Myung had the duty to pass this very art on to them properly.
"A manual won’t do."
Handing over a manual and telling them to learn the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art was no different from putting a silver coin in a blind man’s hand and telling him to return from Hainan Island with three sweets, too.
So what he needed to make now was not a manual, but a diagrammatic explanation of the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
One volume per stance.
All twenty-four volumes!
He had to produce them as fast as possible.
"Ughhh."
Chung Myung scratched his head hard.
In his past life, he might have picked up a brush once a year, if that. In this life, he had already written who knew how many volumes.
"Still have to do it!"
Since he was doing it, he might as well do it perfectly!
So even Dang Soso could look at it and instantly understand:
Ah! So that’s what this means!
That was how detailed it needed to be.
Swish. Swish. Ssswish!
Chung Myung began grinding the ink with a careful hand.
"If I’m already in this mess, I might as well use the chance to refill the treasury too!"
Fire flared in his eyes.
It wasn’t just the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.
Since the basics were what mattered most right now, all the martial arts he hadn’t yet been able to pass down to Mount Hua had to be shoved into the hidden treasury while he had the chance.
If he let this opportunity slip, he might never get another natural chance to hand down martial arts like this again.
"Huuuh!"
He cut off his breath in a short exhale, opened a blank booklet, and began filling the empty pages at a terrifying speed.
With his back straight and his hand moving nonstop, his eyes gradually turned hazy and unfocused.
Swish. Ssswish. Swish.
Before long, only the faint sounds of his breathing and the brush gliding over paper echoed softly, softer and softer, inside the room.