I Dug My Own Grave (3)
“Hoo.”
After finishing the cleanup in the Medicine Hall, Wunkak wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
The place that had been bustling all this time had gone quiet, and now it almost felt eerie.
That was incredible.
Since the day he had entered the Medicine Hall, this had been the greatest storm to ever sweep through it. Every member of the Medicine Hall, the elders, and even Chung Myung had worked as one to create Jaso-dan.
The thought that such a massive achievement—one that would never vanish from history—had been accomplished in his own generation made his chest swell with pride.
Still.
He was glad, more grateful than he could say, that the result had turned out so well… but the moment all that heat and excitement suddenly drained away, a strange emptiness settled in its place.
It feels like a dream.
If not for that Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron pot over there, he might have thought all of this had been a dream…
“Hm?”
Wunkak tilted his head slightly.
Heh heh heh.
Was it really a dream? The Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron pot wasn’t there…
“…….”
Wunkak’s eyes went as wide as saucers. Cold sweat began pouring down his face like a waterfall.
“W-Where did the cold iron pot go?”
Wunkak went pale and bolted out of the hall in a panic!
“Thief! Thieeeeeef!”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“I mean!”
Clang!
“How many times do I have to—!”
Clang!
“—keep doing this stupid crap!”
Clang!
Chung Myung trembled with rage as he slammed the Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron pot again and again.
“Grrrngh.”
Was this even something a human being should have to do?
Dig it up, then dig it back in. Fill it in, then dig it up again.
Bend the cut parts, then straighten them out and join them again.
Even a guard dog trained like this would eventually get so furious it would bite its owner. So how much worse was it for Chung Myung, a human being? And unlike a dog, he didn’t even have an owner to bite.
“Grrrraaaagh.”
He let out a long sigh and struck the pot again. For now, all the manuals he had brought were tucked safely inside, so all he had to do was flatten this thing and seal it back up.
“Aigoo, what a miserable life.”
It was a good thing that this would push Mount Hua one step farther forward—or two, maybe three—but there was just too damn much work to do in the process.
First, this cursed pot.
“It’s freaking tough! Seriously!”
Clang!
When he had cut and sliced it with a sword, it had been nothing but ordinary Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron. But now that he was trying to flatten it with his fists, it felt like it would take a lifetime.
“Grrngh. Done.”
After stubbornly forcing the pot completely flat, Chung Myung let out a breath and looked upward. Holding the round iron lid against the circular hole, he managed to make it fit more or less properly.
Of course, that was only the beginning.
“What the hell am I suffering for?”
He placed his hand where the iron pieces met.
Fwoooosh!
At once, an incredible heat burst from his palm. The edge of the Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron, hard as anything in the world, began to melt little by little, softening and sagging. He worked the seam furiously, rubbing the two sides together to fuse them shut.
“Argh. My back.”
Even for Chung Myung, breathing out Samadhi True Fire hot enough to melt Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron was no easy task.
Generating Samadhi True Fire itself wasn’t especially difficult, but sustaining it long enough to seal this whole iron pot was a different matter entirely.
“I’m doing this much, you damn descendants!”
Of course, the one who had cut up the iron in the first place was none other than him, but Chung Myung decided to overlook that minor detail.
“Urrrraaaagh!”
The more fiercely his eyes blazed, the more the fire in his hand roared to life.
“Damn Mount Hua! I’m going to make it the number one sect in the world!”
Otherwise, there’d be no one to vent his grievance on.
Fwoooosh!
After filling in every last hole he had dug, Chung Myung finally hauled himself back onto the ground and looked around with wild eyes.
“And here I am killing myself while those bastards are just sleeping like—”
Hm?
They weren’t sleeping?
Chung Myung tilted his head and brushed the dirt off himself.
He could feel urgent movement all over Mount Hua. When he had entered this place, everyone had been asleep—so why had everything suddenly turned into such chaos…?
“Search every inch around here!”
“The elders are already checking the mountainside, so we’ll cover this area. The thief might still be hiding somewhere, so look carefully! Carefully!”
“…….”
At the voices drifting from afar, Chung Myung snorted softly.
They found out fast.
Well, the pot was missing. Of course there’d be trouble.
That was no ordinary pot, after all. It had been made from Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron—a material not even worth trading for the same weight in gold.
He’d kept it around because they’d need it again if they made Jaso-dan in the future, and selling it would’ve been impossible anyway, but if they had sold it…
“No! Shit!”
Realization struck Chung Myung like a bolt of lightning, and he nearly convulsed on the spot.
Then did that mean when they made Jaso-dan again, he’d have to do all of this over?
“Just kill me, you bastards!”
Why hadn’t he thought of that? Damn it!
He let out one long, exhausted sigh after another and turned away listlessly. What else could he do? The situation had already become what it was. Even if he had known in advance, it wasn’t like there had been some better way.
“……I can’t believe this crap.”
And so he trudged out of Mount Hua.
He had finished what he came to do anyway; he’d just have to come back up tomorrow morning.
Still, if I’m the only one suffering, then you guys should suffer with me.
The sight of them would at least make him feel a little better.
As he strolled along leisurely, just about to hop over Mount Hua’s wall, someone suddenly shouted from behind him.
“Who goes there!”
“Oh?”
Chung Myung whipped his head around.
They caught my presence?
He didn’t know who it was, but he might have to give them a compliment…
Hm?
The moment he saw the face lit by moonlight, Chung Myung’s eyes widened in surprise.
Baeksang, Sasuk?
He had to admit, it was impressive.
If this had been the old Baeksang, even if Chung Myung had walked right in front of him, he would never have noticed his presence.
But thanks to taking Jaso-dan, Baeksang, who had never even been worth paying attention to before, had actually sensed Chung Myung’s presence.
“Oh. Finding me is worth a compliment…”
“He’s here! He’s here! There’s a thief here!”
“…….”
No, damn, he’s way too damn impatient.
Hey, idiot! Huh? If you’re going to run into me like this, shouldn’t we at least, you know, set the mood a little? Huh?
Hah. This is why kids these days are hopeless. Back in my day, there was romance! Romance!
But romance, my ass—once Baeksang shouted, the disciples all over Mount Hua drew their swords and came swarming in like a pack of dogs. In an instant, they had surrounded Chung Myung.
“Oh? Fast reaction, huh?”
And they’ve got a pretty vicious aura too?
For some reason, a strange sense of pride welled up in him.
Heh. I really did raise these kids well.
At this point, even without Chung Myung, they looked like they could swallow most sects whole.
If he threw them against those Zhongnan bastards right now, wouldn’t they be able to knock them flat, climb on top, and pound them into the ground?
With a face full of mixed emotions, Chung Myung looked at Mount Hua’s disciples, then cleared his throat a little.
Fine. It wouldn’t hurt to top off their confidence a bit.
“Ahem. The momentum of Mount Hua’s disciples is even better than I expected—”
“What’s this bastard rambling about?”
“Talking crap, are you? A thief talking crap?”
“You think this is some kind of joke? We should smash your head in until it’s all swollen, then stick a plum blossom on it so you finally learn some manners!”
“…….”
Uh…
You guys… uh…
Hahaha.
Senior brother.
Now I get why you told me to keep my damn mouth shut.
This isn’t a bunch of righteous sect disciples; they’re just a pack of lowlife thugs.
When I do it, it feels great. When someone else does it, I get pissed.
Chung Myung forcibly pressed down the heat rising in him.
“No, I’m saying—”
“Should we cut off an arm?”
“Then he’d run away. A leg. Let’s cut off one leg.”
“Good thing I sharpened my sword. This bastard really thinks Mount Hua is some joke. If Chung Myung were here right now, you wouldn’t be walking away alive, you little shit. Count yourself lucky.”
“…….”
Was that a compliment? Or an insult?
Chung Myung let out a low cough.
“Today, I’m not in a good position, so I’ll be taking my leave. As for Mount Hua’s disciples….”
“No. Is that bastard serious right now?”
“Leave him be. If we beat him like a dog, he’ll come to his senses.”
“Hey, hey. Come here. Come here. Don’t cry, just come here.”
No, but these bastards?
Veins bulged on Chung Myung’s forehead.
These bastards know who I am—ah, no, better if they don’t. Still, how dare they act like this in front of me?
“……Let me say this kindly. Let me go if you don’t want to die.”
“Good grief. Listen to the little punk. He says we’re the ones who’ll die, kids.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. At this point, I think there’s something wrong with his mind.”
“Stop picking on the poor thing and just beat him already.”
Crunch.
Chung Myung clenched his fist.
Ahh, it’s my fault.
I failed to teach these bastards humility.
It was a busy situation, yes, but how could he call himself a true elder if he neglected the teaching of the younger generation? Even if he was busy…
Crunch. Crunch.
Chung Myung twisted his neck with murderous force.
I can at least knock each of their heads off once.
Then they might become a little more humble, right?
“Yeah. So this is what you want? To fight?”
“What fight, punk? You’re dead.”
“Ha… ha. Fine.”
Someone was going to die.
Chung Myung’s eyes rolled back.
Not me, though!
Just as Chung Myung was about to lunge at them like lightning—
“Move aside.”
At the voice from behind, everyone stopped at once and turned.
“It’s Sasuk!”
“Baek Cheon Sasuk!”
“Senior brother is here!”
They looked like children who had spotted their father in the middle of a fight. Then, all at once, they turned pitiful eyes toward Chung Myung.
Ah. So this is what that feels like.
Usually, that look of pity would’ve been aimed at the other side, not him.
Baek Cheon Sasuk.
You’ve had it rough. I’ll go easy on you today.
Baek Cheon advanced slowly, leading Jo Gul, Yoon Jong, and Yu I-seol. Then, with half-lidded eyes, he spoke at his own unhurried pace.
“To dare disturb the pure tranquility of Mount Hua in the dead of night. How could an outsider to Mount Hua possibly—possibly—”
Baek Cheon tilted his head.
What is this?
Something felt off.
No, no. This was definitely a thief. That black nightwear, that dark outfit…
“T-That… t-that…?”
That looked way too familiar. That thing?
No! That crazy bastard!
He’s even robbing Mount Hua now?
No, seriously, has he lost it?
The moment Baek Cheon recognized Chung Myung’s identity, he jumped back two steps in shock.
“S-Sasuk? No, why—what, what is that bastard!”
Jo Gul blurted out in alarm, but Yoon Jong quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
“He’s not human. That thing is really not human.”
Yu I-seol’s low voice perfectly reflected their feelings.
No. Why is that bastard there?
Has he really gone insane? He disappears for a few days and everything feels peaceful, and then he shows up like this with whatever idea he’s got in his head?
Is that bastard the thief?
…Then they should just let him take it.
That would be cheaper.
Better to hand everything over and pray he’d use it for something good than fight that bastard.
Baek Cheon’s eyes darted wildly. They were used to that appearance, but it seemed the other disciples still hadn’t caught on to Chung Myung’s identity.
Why aren’t you leaving, you bastard!
With Chung Myung’s skill, slipping away from here would be nothing. So why was he standing there and enduring this?
By the Primordial Celestial Lord’s mercy!
Let’s be reasonable! Just a little! What am I supposed to do in a situation like this?
Baek Cheon, sinking into despair, hurriedly composed his expression.
“Th-then… uh. Then… thief… no, thief sir. Ah, damn it, I can’t do this.”
“Huh? Senior brother…?”
“No, I mean—”
The confused looks from the other disciples didn’t matter.
Baek Cheon desperately signaled Chung Myung with his eyes.
Go!
Hm?
Go, you bastard! Hurry up and go!
What?
The eye contact failed.
I’m done for.
As Baek Cheon groaned like someone falling into hellfire, Yoon Jong quickly moved in beside him.
What do we do?
How the hell should I know? Why is that bastard standing there like that?
Since when has that bastard done anything sane? For now, let’s create a situation.
Yoon Jong quickly finished his calculations.
The best solution right now was to create a reason for Chung Myung to leave.
“I’ll take you on!”
Yoon Jong drew his sword in one sharp motion.
If I pretend to fight him and swing my sword big enough, he should be able to use that opening to run away.
He wasn’t stupid enough to miss the cue. He’d run off on his own.
With that resolve firm in place, Yoon Jong charged forward without delay.
“Taaaat! Prepare yourse—no! You vile fi—!”
Even as he charged, he kept shooting Chung Myung frantic looks.
Now, Chung Myung! When I swing my sword, you counter it and fling yourself back far away—
But unfortunately, his gaze never reached Chung Myung.
Something suddenly rushed toward his face. It grew larger and larger, darkening the whole world.
The instant Yoon Jong realized it was Chung Myung’s fist flying straight at his nose, he smiled with quiet satisfaction.
You bastard.
Thud!
“Aaaaargh!”
Yoon Jong was blasted backward at twice the speed he had charged in with. Flung far into the distance, he slammed into the ground and twitched there in a heap.
The masked one, meaning Chung Myung, shouted in outrage.
“Who the hell swings a sword at me? You want to die!”
“…….”
Baek Cheon, who had watched the whole thing, quietly looked up at the sky.
Hah….
The sky sure is damn clear.
So clear it makes you want to cry.
“Hahahaha! Then I’ll be on my way. Train harder, Mount Hua disciples. Hahahahahaha!”
“…….”
The masked man burst into wild laughter and launched himself into the distance.
“Ch- Chase him!”
“Catch him!”
The Mount Hua disciples, still not fully understanding the situation, hurried after him like mad.
Baek Cheon, now looking as if he had been completely emptied out, merely smiled to himself.
I hope he dies a little.
Or better yet, maybe I should die instead.
Cursed bastard.