No, But Those Bastards? (3)
"...There are way too many people here."
"I think I'm getting motion sickness."
The Mount Hua disciples looked around with dazed expressions.
And it was no wonder. The farther they walked, the more people seemed to be crowding in around them.
"Could you village kids stop making it so obvious and shut your mouths!"
At Baek Cheon’s rebuke, the Baek generation disciples puckered their lips in protest.
"But we are from the country. Huayin is a village, isn't it?"
"Huayin is still a city, in its own way."
"It didn't look like one at all compared to Luoyang."
"...Well, you can't compare it to Luoyang."
Baek Cheon shook his head.
Still, he couldn't say he completely failed to understand his fellow disciples’ reactions.
They’d be surprised, of course.
Whether they were Baek generation or Cheong generation, most of them had entered Mount Hua when they were very young and had spent their whole lives looking at nothing but mountains. When would they ever have seen crowds like this?
"I thought Shaolin would be some austere monastery, but this is... wow."
At Baek Sang's mutter, Jo Gul answered with a wry smile.
"This is the most famous temple in the world. It's rich enough to call itself the wealthiest sect in the martial world just from the incense money its pilgrims donate. How could it be quiet?"
"Hmm."
"Famous sects make money even when they do nothing. That's why sects don't always try to prove their strength just through martial arts."
"That's true."
Even Hyun Jong, who had been listening from farther up ahead, quietly nodded.
That was certainly true.
Mount Hua itself hadn't escaped its financial troubles completely until after its victory at the Battle of the Great War of Orthodoxy, had it?
If Mount Hua had been like that, then how much more so Shaolin?
So this is how they can host a tournament like this.
Technically, they had limited the number of participants by using gold and silver invitation tokens, but how many famous sects were there in all under heaven?
At the very least, the number of people coming to participate in this tournament would easily exceed a thousand.
Even if the pilgrims and sightseers handled their own lodging and meals, feeding and housing the guests invited here was no small task.
For Mount Hua, it would have been a dream beyond dreaming. Shaolin was carrying it out as if it were nothing.
"It really drives home how big this tournament is. Just look at how many people are climbing Mount Song to see it."
"This is the first time anything like this has happened in a hundred years."
"Even so, the matches haven't even started yet."
"If they've got nothing better to do, then coming up early just means they want to get a good spot before everyone else."
"Hmm, fair enough."
Sure enough, voices began to drift down from the people around them as they climbed.
"Which sect is it? If they got invited, they must be pretty famous."
"Let's see... Was there a sect that used plum blossoms as its emblem?"
"Plum blossoms? Right. That's Mount Hua!"
"Mount Hua?"
"You know, that one. They used to be something once."
Baek Cheon's face twitched.
Used to be something?
They still are something, you idiot!
He wanted to snap back, but getting into a brawl with spectators wouldn't accomplish anything.
And fortunately, there were also some pleasant things to hear.
"I heard they've been in good form lately. Rumor has it they even beat Wudang."
"Come on, there's no way."
"It's a rumor, sure, but rumors in the martial world don't spread for nothing."
"Still, martial world rumors are about the least trustworthy thing there is."
"That’s true enough."
Baek Cheon’s lips curled faintly.
"But even so, that's all it is. How could they possibly stand against one of the Nine Great Sects or the Five Great Families? They'll probably just be glad to have participated this time."
Those men were speaking in low voices, thinking they were keeping it secret, but to the Mount Hua disciples, whose martial prowess had been forged high by Chung Myung’s brutal training disguised as instruction, every word came through loud and clear.
The Baek generation disciples bristled and started to turn their heads.
But then—
"What are you doing? Aren't you climbing?"
From behind them, Chung Myung cut in lazily while standing with his hands behind his back.
He looked at the Baek generation disciples, who seemed to have something to say, and snorted.
"What, you wanna go prove yourselves by fighting those geezers?"
That was enough.
In the end, what people thought depended on what they saw.
They could prove that Mount Hua was different now through the tournament.
"Let's hurry a little."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
Hyun Jong quickened his pace.
They weren't in a rush exactly. They still had plenty of time before they had to arrive. But it wasn't good for the disciples to keep getting distracted by everything around them.
Rather than needlessly trying to rein them in here, it seemed better to get to Shaolin quickly and settle in.
Unfortunately, that decision on Hyun Jong’s part didn't lead to a particularly welcome result.
Hurrying through the crowd and climbing the mountain at a brisk pace, he looked up and frowned.
"Sect Leader."
"Hmm."
Hyun Sang also seemed to have spotted the crowd ahead, and his voice carried a trace of unease.
The last people they wanted to run into were climbing the mountain right in front of them.
"...It's Southern Edge."
"Yes."
Hyun Jong slightly slowed his steps.
He knew Southern Edge was also participating in this tournament and would inevitably be one of the opponents they couldn't avoid. But meeting them before the competition was still something he would have preferred to avoid.
Yet as always, the world did not bother to follow his preferences.
One of Southern Edge’s disciples at the rear of their group glanced back, caught sight of the Mount Hua party, and stiffened. He quickly relayed the information forward.
"It seems they've noticed us."
"Ahem."
Hyun Jong furrowed his brow.
In the end, all of Southern Edge's disciples came to a halt at once.
This is awkward.
Of all things, the first sect they ran into after coming to Shaolin was Southern Edge. It was absurd enough to be funny.
Of course, they were just as uncomfortable, but now that things had come to this, there was no avoiding a greeting.
Apparently they thought the same. A man pushed through the disciples and walked back toward them.
"To meet you like this in a faraway land—I'm overwhelmed with joy. Have you been well, Sect Leader?"
An old man with a sturdy build and striking white hair stepped forward and clasped his hands first.
Hyun Jong forced his expression into calm.
He knew this man very well.
A man who had lived a life entirely different from Hyun Jong's. A man who had taken Southern Edge, once merely one of the lower-ranked sects among the Nine Sects and constantly pressed down by Mount Hua, and raised it into a proud and influential orthodox sect.
That man was Southern Edge's current Sect Leader, the Heavenly Sword, Jong Ri-gok.
"Sect Leader."
When Hyun Young nudged him lightly in the side, Hyun Jong flinched, realized his mistake, and hurriedly returned the clasped-hands greeting.
"It is good to see you again, Sect Leader."
He also gave a warm, friendly smile.
Whatever his feelings, wasn't it their position to smile when they met?
"It feels as though it's been ten years."
"Indeed. We've both been so busy that we've had little chance to meet."
Jong Ri-gok smiled thinly.
"Even though we stand so close to one another, we haven't been able to draw near. It seems the relationship between Mount Hua and Southern Edge is not what it once was. If this opportunity can give us a chance to deepen our ties a little, wouldn't that be a fine thing?"
"Those are wise words."
Hyun Jong looked at Jong Ri-gok with a somewhat renewed gaze.
Something's strange.
Though they were both sect leaders, their positions were so different that they seldom met.
But since both represented sects in Shaanxi, they did occasionally cross paths. And whenever they did, Hyun Jong always felt his insides boil.
The burden of being the Sect Leader of Mount Hua, a sect steadily losing its former glory, was simply too easy to compare with Jong Ri-gok’s position as the leader of a Southern Edge that advanced more and more with each passing day.
Whenever Hyun Jong returned from meeting him, he would secretly pour himself a drink and soothe his aching stomach.
But now, strangely enough, he felt perfectly at ease.
Rather, wasn't the ever-composed Jong Ri-gok the one looking at him with a face that seemed to have lost its composure?
"But it seems you've changed quite a bit."
"When one's heart becomes at ease, good things tend to follow. Heh heh."
Jong Ri-gok looked at Hyun Jong for a moment, then curved his eyes with a smile.
"Haha. Good things, you say. Good things. Indeed. We were greatly indebted to you at the last Great Tournament of Orthodoxy. I never imagined Mount Hua would develop to that extent... Allow me to congratulate you once again, Sect Leader."
Hyun Jong smiled.
A senior congratulating a junior on his development—that was the kind of thing a superior said to a subordinate. Buried in those words was the meaning that, despite the crushing defeat they had suffered, Southern Edge still did not regard Mount Hua as its equal.
"It was merely good fortune."
"Fortune... fortune, you say."
Jong Ri-gok wore a peculiar smile.
"If fortune repeats itself, then perhaps that fortune is skill. What do you think? Do you think you can achieve good results in this tournament as well?"
Hyun Jong quietly regarded him before answering.
"Who can say? I don't know for certain, but..."
Then he glanced briefly at the disciples standing behind him.
Southern Edge.
To Mount Hua’s disciples, it was a name like a stone lodged in the belly. In the past, whenever Mount Hua disciples saw Southern Edge disciples, they would either lose heart or fly into a rage.
But what about now?
They were looking at Southern Edge with calm, unreadable eyes.
That means they no longer see them as opponents they can't handle.
When the disciples thought that way, he, as the Sect Leader, couldn't afford to feel intimidated.
"We will simply do our best."
Watching Hyun Jong’s composed response, a slight twitch touched the corner of Jong Ri-gok’s mouth.
"Haha. As they say, a seat makes the person. Sect Leader, you've changed quite a bit yourself. That confidence is a sight to behold, nothing like before."
From a little distance away, Yoon Jong spoke in a whisper as he listened to the conversation between the two sect leaders.
"Chung Myung."
"Yeah?"
"Interpret."
"'The guy who couldn't even keep his head up in front of me has grown a lot.'"
"...Hey, not in front of the Sect Leader."
"You asked me to interpret."
"Ugh."
At Chung Myung’s translation, the disciples all glared at Jong Ri-gok. But the humiliation had been delivered right in front of him, and Hyun Jong himself remained utterly calm.
"Heh heh. What reason would I have to be confident? I merely follow where Mount Hua's ancestors lead us."
"Interpret."
"'Historically, a bastard who used to just sweep the Mount Hua courtyard for generations sure talks a lot of crap.'"
"...Our Sect Leader's tongue is no joke, either."
The disciples looked at Hyun Jong with fresh astonishment.
Good heavens, so their Sect Leader could be that elegantly cutting when he wanted to be.
Jong Ri-gok apparently understood Hyun Jong’s true meaning as well, because his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Mount Hua has ample reason for its confidence. The defeat at the Great Tournament of Orthodoxy was a painful matter for our children as well. But thanks to that, our proud and arrogant young ones were able to be reborn through grueling training. Haha. This time, Mount Hua won't find it easy either."
"That is a fine thing."
Jong Ri-gok smiled more deeply.
"Then it wouldn't be so bad for Mount Hua to go through that experience once as well."
"Would it be right for us to seize such a good thing for ourselves? We'll yield it to Southern Edge."
Still wearing a smile, Jong Ri-gok thought, This bastard.
Not a single inch of ground was given.
It was something unimaginable in the past.
Unable to hide his discomfort any longer, he quickly wrapped up the conversation.
"Indeed, indeed. The Sect Leader speaks wisely. In the end, the martial world is a place where results speak for themselves, is it not? I wish Mount Hua the best in this tournament."
"And I pray Southern Edge also achieves good results."
The two men clasped hands to one another again.
Yoon Jong asked once more.
"Who won?"
"Our Sect Leader just smashed him, that's the level it was at."
"As expected?"
A proud smile bloomed at Yoon Jong’s lips.
He clearly etched into memory the sight of Jong Ri-gok turning and shuffling back to his place.
"Let's go!"
"Yes!"
With a loud call, all the Southern Edge disciples who had been glaring this way turned around.
But three of them still kept their eyes on Mount Hua.
One was Jin Geum-ryong.
From the very beginning, Jin Geum-ryong’s gaze had never left Chung Myung for a single moment.
Meeting that look, where hostility and heat were tangled together, Chung Myung snorted softly.
Don't be an idiot. You'll get yourself killed that way.
A man had to know his place. Know his place!
The other was Yi Song-baek.
Yi Song-baek was also looking at Chung Myung, but the meaning was clearly different.
If Jin Geum-ryong looked at Chung Myung like he wanted to devour him, Yi Song-baek seemed to be sending him a look of reverent awe.
Seeing eyes so full of admiration...
Ugh, that's itchy.
Chung Myung decided he'd rather take Jin Geum-ryong’s stare.
Anyway, those two faces were familiar enough.
The problem was the third gaze.
A middle-aged man with a clean, refined countenance was looking this way quietly. But the eyes didn't rest on Chung Myung; they were fixed on Baek Cheon, who stood just ahead of him.
Chung Myung slipped over to Baek Cheon’s side and, still staring at the middle-aged man, asked, "Your old man?"
"...Yeah."
"You must be glad, Dong-ryong."
"...Don't call me that."
"Heh heh."
Chung Myung gave Baek Cheon’s shoulder a light thump.
"Words or status can't explain it. The only thing you can show them is the sword. Isn't that right?"
"Of course."
The answer came back calmly. Chung Myung glanced at Baek Cheon again.
There wasn't the slightest hint of unrest on his face.
He’s grown a lot.
This wasn't the same Baek Cheon who used to lose control of his emotions in front of Jin Geum-ryong. As the sword had grown, so had the man.
Feeling newly satisfied, Chung Myung nodded.
As Southern Edge quickly moved away, Baek Cheon looked over the Mount Hua disciples and spoke quietly.
"You all saw that."
"Yes, Senior Brother."
"Those bastards still think we're easy pickings. How do we deal with people who get beaten and still can't wake up?"
"We beat them until they do wake up."
"Yes, that's it."
Baek Cheon smiled.
Sorry, but you're not our opponents anymore.
Even if the opponent was his older half-brother, Jin Geum-ryong, the same was true.
"Let's go."
"Yes."
The Mount Hua disciples resumed climbing the mountain, and before long they reached the temple gate of Shaolin.
In front of the enormous plaque reading Great Shaolin Temple, they stepped through Shaolin’s gate with resolute faces.
Now the time had come for them to prove themselves.