What’s Opening? (1)
"……Uuuuuugh."
Wasn’t it said that fortune and misfortune always came together?
Hyun Sang was feeling that truth in his bones.
For once, the fortune he had received was more welcome than anything else in the world. Mount Hua’s lost martial arts had come back to life, martial arts everyone had thought were gone forever.
Of course, not every technique the sect had once possessed had returned, but even the techniques they had recovered so far were enough to rebuild Mount Hua’s foundation from the ground up.
Beyond the illustrated copy of the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art they had obtained through the map records, more than twenty secret manuals had rolled into their hands.
He didn’t even need sleep to feel tired, and he didn’t need to eat to feel full.
Just looking at the secret manuals lined up before him was enough to make him dizzy with delight. No fine wine in the world could ever intoxicate him like this.
But these same manuals had also brought the trouble with them.
"T-the Plum Blossom Mountain Techniques... first, sort them into the upper grade!"
"Yes, sir!"
The Martial Hall disciples took the Plum Blossom Mountain techniques at once and rushed off to one side.
"Upper grade means?"
"Ten volumes!"
"Yes! We’ll start right away."
"Do that."
Then one of the Martial Hall disciples stole a glance at Hyun Sang and carefully opened his mouth.
"But... Hall Leader. Shouldn’t you rest a little? It’s already been four days."
"Guh. We’re not even halfway done. How am I supposed to rest? The Sect Leader keeps breathing down my neck, damn it."
"At this rate you’ll ruin your health. I’ll speak to the Sect Leader for you."
"No, it’s not that the Sect Leader is the problem. How am I supposed to sleep right now?"
Seeing the bloodshot eyes in Hyun Sang’s face, the disciple unconsciously nodded.
The problem was simple enough.
They had suddenly acquired so many secret manuals that they needed to inspect them and sort them properly.
Why was such a procedure necessary?
A renowned orthodox sect usually possessed anywhere from dozens to hundreds of martial arts texts.
Didn’t Shaolin’s Scripture Repository hold nearly a thousand martial arts manuals, including the seventy-two supreme arts?
Still, human ability had limits. Just because a sect possessed a thousand techniques didn’t mean one person could learn all one thousand of them.
That was why each sect established a framework of the martial arts its disciples had to learn first, then selected supplementary techniques suited to each disciple’s aptitude and ability.
So Mount Hua, too, had to organize the martial arts it had obtained this time. And the person who had to do that was naturally Hyun Sang, the one in charge of the sect’s martial arts as a whole.
"Grrrr... When am I ever going to finish this?"
It wasn’t an easy job, of course.
It was difficult enough just to understand the contents of all these manuals and establish an order for them, but the bigger issue was that their level exceeded what Hyun Sang could handle.
Each one was a new technique, a superior art he had never even encountered before.
He was already at the point of clutching his head and learning them himself, and now they wanted him to judge which ones were better and which should form the basis of Mount Hua’s system? As if that were possible.
Hyun Sang scrubbed his face with both hands.
His bloodshot eyes glared at the manuals still left to sort.
That was when it happened.
"How’s it going?"
Hyun Young opened the door to the Martial Hall and stepped inside, looking at Hyun Sang.
"...Difficult."
"Good grief, you don’t even look human. Keep this up and you’ll start losing hair again. Take a break while you work."
"Do you think I have time for that? Even the Sect Leader can’t sleep now."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That’s why I keep telling you to drop that useless pride."
"Pride?"
When Hyun Sang repeated the word, Hyun Young nodded.
"Why are you straining yourself over this, senior brother? Just drag Chung Myung in and tell him to do it."
"...Huh?"
Chung Myung?
Why was Chung Myung coming up here?
"Chung Myung...?"
"Chung Myung is stronger than you, senior brother."
"...."
Hyun Sang fell silent.
Ah... well, yes, that was true. But still... that was...
It was an undeniable truth.
He had deliberately tried not to think about it, but in fact everyone in Mount Hua now tacitly acknowledged Chung Myung as the sect’s strongest master.
"But this is about sorting Mount Hua’s martial arts. So..."
"Senior brother. Senior brother. Stop talking nonsense."
"Huh?"
"You don’t know anything about these techniques either."
"...."
"This is about taking in new martial arts and making sense of them. Do you really think we old men will do that better, or that some quick little brat will? Stop making yourself suffer for nothing and go find Chung Myung."
Watching Hyun Young, who brought Chung Myung up with every other breath, Hyun Sang let out a dry laugh.
"Heh. That brat Chung Myung isn’t some magic pestle. What is it with you, always running to him whenever something happens?"
"Don’t compare him to some cheap magic pestle. Even if you smashed a magic pestle a hundred times, would it ever spit out an illustrated copy of the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art?"
"...Well, I suppose that’s true."
Thinking about it, it really was astonishing.
Every time Chung Myung got his hands on something, Mount Hua advanced at a ridiculous speed. Compared to two and a half years ago, Mount Hua had changed so much that the phrase “the seas turn to mulberry fields” barely captured it.
"So stop wasting time trying to show off and go find that brat Chung Myung already."
"Find him? Are you saying Chung Myung has gone somewhere?"
"The brat’s nowhere to be seen. Grr... Where on earth did he go? I even stewed carp for him."
...Stop feeding him.
At this rate the kid would start rolling around.
Rustle, rustle.
The warm spring breeze fluttered the hems of his robes.
Chung Myung was lying atop the eaves of Baekmae Hall, enjoying a rare moment of peace.
Ah, this is the life.
Honestly, he had been far too busy lately. Ever since he had come out of seclusion and left Plum Blossom Cave, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly rested. From Namgyeong to Shaanxi, Sichuan, and even Yunnan—hadn’t he practically crossed the whole Central Plains?
I’ve done everything I needed to do.
He’d stuffed his internal energy full with Jaso-dan, handed out the martial arts they should learn, and even bullied and coaxed the Baek generation into creating a self-directed training atmosphere on their own.
He could say the first goal he’d set when returning to Mount Hua had been achieved.
So maybe I should slack off for a while?
Training didn’t always improve because you kept shoving people harder and harder. Sometimes a proper rest was better than brutal training.
Just a month... no, two weeks of lazing around....
"Huh?"
Then Chung Myung spotted a stranger entering through the mountain gate.
No matter how he looked at him, he wasn’t a disciple of Mount Hua.
"A beggar?"
Chung Myung tilted his head.
A beggar at Mount Hua...? No, wait. He looked familiar somehow.
"Mount Hua Divine Dragon!"
Just then, the beggar who had spotted Chung Myung lying on the eaves started running toward him in a hurry.
Good eyesight.
Flash!
Using light-footed movement, the beggar sprang up to the eaves in one leap, confirmed Chung Myung’s face, then immediately scowled and barked out in outrage.
"You little punk! How could you do this to me?"
"...Who are you?"
"...."
The beggar’s face turned not just red but dark with rage.
"It’s me, you brat! Hong Dae-gwang!"
"Uh... so...?"
Seeing that Chung Myung still didn’t get it, Hong Dae-gwang smacked his own chest in frustration.
"Hong Dae-gwang, the branch leader of the Luoyang branch of the Beggars’ Sect! Did you go to Yunnan and leave your brains there?"
"Ah. The beggar uncle?"
"Yes! Beggar uncle... no, don’t call me that, you brat!"
Chung Myung’s face brightened as he looked at Hong Dae-gwang.
At least he had formed a fairly decent relationship with Hong Dae-gwang in the Sword Tomb.
"So why are you here, uncle?"
"Didn’t you hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Grrr. Seems the Sect Leader didn’t tell you. You once told me to open a branch in Hwaeum, didn’t you?"
"I said I wanted a few beggars posted there. I never said to open a branch."
"If a few beggars are posted there, that’s a branch. What else is our branch anyway? Put up a shack, let a beggar sit in it, and that’s a branch."
Ah.
Well, that did make sense.
"So?"
"I’ve come as the branch leader of the Beggars’ Sect’s Hwaeum branch."
"...Did you really need to?"
"Need to? You little punk! Do you know how hard I worked to get permission?"
Hong Dae-gwang complained bitterly, but Chung Myung only cast him a flat look.
Annoyed by the lack of enthusiasm, Hong Dae-gwang snapped.
"You should be happy! Happy!"
"No... I mean, whatever. A beggar is still just a beggar."
"I’m different from an ordinary beggar, different! I’m a man the Beggars’ Sect has high hopes for, you know!"
"Seems the Beggars’ Sect is short on talent."
"Grrrrrr."
Hong Dae-gwang’s fists trembled.
I can’t just beat him senseless.
He’d be lucky if he wasn’t the one getting beaten instead.
Hong Dae-gwang was a big deal within the Beggars’ Sect in his own right, but that meant nothing against this monster. Wasn’t this the same lunatic who had been brawling with a Wudang elder in the Sword Tomb?
"Come to think of it, is that really true?"
"What is?"
"There’s talk you fought and beat an elder from the Tang Clan. The information was so absurd that even the Beggars’ Sect is still checking whether it’s true."
"Ah, that."
"Yes! Is it real?"
Chung Myung looked at Hong Dae-gwang with a bored expression, then extended one hand straight out and spread his fingers.
"...What?"
"You’re a beggar, sure, and living off other people’s work is basically your life, but if you’re going to get information, you should at least pay for it. It’s not like you gave me your information for free, either. Let’s make the trade clear."
"You lightning-struck bastard! You’re trying to shake down a beggar for money now?"
"Convenient, isn’t it? Sometimes you’re a beggar, sometimes you’re an informant. Pick one. Don’t keep straddling both and switching sides whenever it suits you."
"Grrrrr."
Hong Dae-gwang groaned, then took out a gourd flask from his waist and held it out to Chung Myung.
"Here."
"What is it?"
"What do you think it is? Wine!"
"I’d prefer money."
"We don’t have any, even if you’re trying to drink yourself to death, you little punk! If you insist on paying cash every time you get information from the Beggars’ Sect, I’ll bring you some!"
"Hey, who said that? Hehe."
As Chung Myung grinned broadly, Hong Dae-gwang clicked his tongue.
That slippery little snake.
He had a face so young it practically shouted “kid,” but somehow there was a shameless old coot living inside him. Why was he so slick?
"You’re not halfway through someone else’s drink, are you?"
"It’s new, new!"
"I’ll drink it gratefully."
Chung Myung popped the stopper off the flask at once and gulped it down. He drank with such refreshing eagerness and sweet delight that it was enough to make anyone watching salivate.
"Krrr! Not bad."
"Grrr. That Daoist brat..."
Hong Dae-gwang clicked his tongue again and hurried on.
"You’ve drunk, so answer me already. Is it true?"
"Well, I did beat up one old man."
"...So it’s true. Good heavens."
Hong Dae-gwang stared at Chung Myung in sheer shock.
What in the world is this kid made of?
He had already thought Chung Myung was a monster when he fought the Wudang elder evenly in the Sword Tomb, but now he was hearing that the same lunatic had gone and beaten a Tang Clan elder too.
If Hong Dae-gwang hadn’t seen Chung Myung with his own eyes, he would’ve slapped the beggar who brought him the news.
But I saw him fight, so I can’t exactly refuse to believe it.
No, more than that, it was Chung Myung’s unruffled expression that was even more absurd. To him, defeating a Tang Clan elder seemed like nothing at all.
Or maybe it really wasn’t anything at all.
Hong Dae-gwang was only more bewildered by how he was supposed to report this to the higher-ups.
Then Chung Myung said casually, "So why are you here?"
"Ah! Right!"
Hong Dae-gwang quickly straightened his shoulders and looked at him squarely.
"Hurry up and show this old man some respect. I brought important news."
"Huh?"
"It’s something Mount Hua will hear soon enough anyway... but..."
"Look, dragging it out won’t raise the stakes, so just spit it out already."
"Grrr."
What a brat, with not a single cute bone in his body.
Hong Dae-gwang grumbled inwardly before blurting it out.
"Shaolin has moved!"
"...Why?"
"I said Shaolin has moved!"
"So why is that a big deal?"
"...."
Chung Myung was looking at him with an even flatter expression than before. Hong Dae-gwang blinked over and over in disbelief.
"Uh... Shaolin, which had been holding its breath all this time, has moved?"
Does this bastard not know what it means when Shaolin moves?
Just as Hong Dae-gwang was about to add more, Chung Myung said indifferently, "Looks like they found something worth picking up."
"Huh?"
"That’s how those bald monks always are. Normally they act all proper and dignified and pretend to be above it all, but the second there’s something to snatch up, they come charging in with their monk robes practically splitting apart."
"...."
Hong Dae-gwang’s eyes twitched.
There was probably no one in the world who talked about Shaolin like this except this one bastard.
"So what exactly did they do?"
"...Looks like they’re going to hold a tournament."
"Huh? A tournament?"
Only then did Chung Myung seem to show some interest, repeating the words in surprise. Hong Dae-gwang nodded hard and added, "Right. They’re planning to hold a huge martial arts tournament! Word is they’re sending out the official invitation from Songshan!"
"What’s opening?"
Chung Myung’s eyes, calm until now, changed in an instant.
"A, a martial..."
"A martial arts tournament?"
"Y-yes."
"So a sparring tournament?"
"That’s right."
"...A sparring tournament that includes all of the Nine Sects and One Gang?"
"Since it’s a tournament hosted by Shaolin, of course that’s what it—"
At that moment, Chung Myung lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar.
Hong Dae-gwang jerked back in alarm.
"W-what are you doing?"
"The invitation."
"...Huh?"
"Where’s the invitation?"
"...."
By now, Chung Myung’s eyes had completely gone out of their senses.
"Where’s the invitation to that martial arts tournament or whatever it is?"
I caught them, those bastards!
I’m going to rip every last one of their hairs out!