The Great Clans Don’t Have Heads? (1)
Mount Hua was one of the largest temples in the world.
Its standing in the martial world was immense, but its prestige in the Central Plains was every bit as great.
Ever since Bodhidharma brought Zen Buddhism to the Central Plains, Shaolin had become the sacred ground of the Buddhist faith and the temple visited by the greatest number of people in all the world.
And naturally, its size was so vast that there was nowhere else in the world to compare.
Yet the great Shaolin Temple was now packed so tightly with people there wasn’t a single place to put your foot.
"Hey! Don’t shove!"
"I’m gonna fall, you idiots!"
"Who brought a chair? You brought a chair into a place this cramped? Are you out of your mind?!"
There were plenty of people who had come to take part in the martial arts tournament, but compared to the crowd that had gathered just to watch, they were a drop in the ocean.
"Do we really have to see it this badly?"
"You don’t know anything! A tournament like this only comes once in a hundred years! If you don’t see it now, there’s no guarantee you’ll ever see one again in your lifetime! Even if my neck breaks, I’m watching!"
From the very first day of the tournament, Shaolin was so crowded there was nowhere to stand. Even with all a thousand of Shaolin’s monks deployed, they were struggling to keep the masses under control.
"Wow, there are seriously a lot of people."
Jo Gul looked around with wide eyes.
The area where the competitors waited and the area where the spectators gathered were completely separated by a red rope. Thanks to that, the sects participating in the tournament could take their places without being swept along by the crowd.
"That’s the arena over there where the matches are held?"
"That’s right."
At Yoon Jong’s answer, Jo Gul narrowed his eyes and studied the arena.
"It’s smaller than I thought. I figured Shaolin would be different."
"Jo Gul."
"Yes, sahyung?"
"Look beside you."
"Huh?"
Jo Gul turned his gaze to the side. In front of the packed mass of people, he could see several more arenas just like the one before him.
"……Are they using all of those?"
"Looks like it."
"What the heck for……?"
Yoon Jong shrugged.
"There are nearly twenty sects that received gold invitations. That means there are four hundred competitors from those sects alone. Add in the people with silver, bronze, and the rest, and the number of younger disciples taking part easily goes well past a thousand."
"A thousand?!"
Jo Gul’s jaw dropped.
Yoon Jong nodded.
"That’s why they need preliminary brackets. If everyone who wanted to participate was allowed in, they’d be holding preliminaries for three months straight."
"Whoa……."
Jo Gul was struck all over again by the scale of the event.
So there are a thousand participants alone.
How on earth were they supposed to get through all those matches?
"Looks like the preliminaries will take place over two days or so. After that, they’ll move to the central grand arena for the main bracket. There should be about a hundred left by then."
"A hundred, huh."
Jo Gul tightened his grip on the sword at his waist.
I have to make it into that hundred.
His goal was to rise as high as possible, of course, but in a martial tournament, rank was not always determined purely by skill.
If he happened to meet the eventual champion in the very first round, then a first-round elimination would become his final result. Wasn’t that the fatal flaw of tournaments like this?
And if he were unlucky enough to get knocked out early?
I don’t even want to imagine it.
That bloodsucking bastard would chew him alive the entire time. Through the rest of the tournament, all the way back to Mount Hua, and even after they’d returned to Mount Hua!
"Ugh. If I lose, Chung Myung’s going to grind me into powder……."
"That’s what you’re worried about?"
"Huh?"
"You’re about to fight the best of the other sects, and that’s not what you’re worried about?"
At Yoon Jong’s words, Jo Gul glanced around the arena.
The disciples of the prestigious sects, their eyes shining with sharp light, were all waiting with faces full of fighting spirit. Just from the force they exuded, one could tell how rigorously they had trained under a severe and exacting sect tradition.
If this had been the old Jo Gul, he would have shrunk back at the sight of them. They were disciples of famous sects he couldn’t even begin to compare himself with.
Had things changed now?
Not really.
It was true that Mount Hua’s standing had risen tremendously, but Jo Gul still hadn’t fully felt that change for himself.
No one looked at him with admiration just because he was a disciple of Mount Hua, and no one gave him special treatment either.
And yet, somehow…….
"Sahyung."
"Hm?"
"This is going to sound weird, but don’t those guys look ridiculously easy?"
Yoon Jong flicked his eyes toward the other competitors, then let out a small laugh.
"Of course they do."
"But they’re disciples of prestigious sects."
"Do you think there’s anyone like Chung Myung among them?"
"……There can’t be two people like that in the world."
"Exactly. We’ve spent every day fighting with that bastard Chung Myung. Why would we be afraid of anyone else? Even if we saw some three-headed, six-armed monster, we’d probably just be happy it had three heads to break."
"Now that you mention it……."
Mount Hua’s disciples had lost the ability to be afraid, all thanks to Chung Myung.
"So when does the tournament start?"
"There it is."
Yoon Jong pointed ahead.
Following his gesture, Jo Gul turned his gaze and saw a Shaolin monk stepping out onto the arena platform.
The monk brought his palms together in a solemn salute, then lifted his head to look over the crowd gathered before the ring.
With that one motion, the noisy hall fell silent in an instant.
The monk, now commanding everyone’s attention, spoke in a deep, resonant voice.
"Thank you to the disciples of the various sects who have taken the time to participate in this martial arts tournament, and to all of you who have come to witness this Heavenly Martial Arts Tournament. This humble monk is known as Kongcho of Shaolin."
At the name Kongcho, the hall erupted into murmurs.
"Then that’s him?"
"Unmoving Fist, Kongcho!"
Among Shaolin’s Vajra lineage, he was the one most famous for his fists. One of Shaolin’s representative masters, he was known for handling countless vicious criminals with his superb martial skill and unwavering righteousness whenever he left the mountain.
The fact that such a man would personally preside over the tournament was enough to send excitement through the crowd.
"And I would also like to thank the sect leaders who have honored us with their presence."
Kongcho turned and saluted toward the raised platform set up to one side of the arena.
There, on the platform, sat the sect leaders of the various factions participating in the tournament.
A thunderous cheer rolled over them.
Watching that sight, Yoon Jong smiled faintly.
"The Sect Leader must be pleased."
"No, sahyung. He looks extremely uncomfortable to me."
"……Is that so?"
Come to think of it, Hyun Jong probably wasn’t used to a setting like this.
"If you think about it, the Southern Edge Sect leader is sitting on one side and the Wudang Sect leader on the other. I’d probably choke even on water over there."
"Exactly."
"Then we should make that seat as comfortable as possible for him."
"Yes."
At that moment, Kongcho shouted in a voice reinforced with internal energy.
"From this moment, the Heavenly Martial Arts Tournament will begin! Those called shall proceed to their designated arenas. The brackets were drawn fairly under the supervision of the sect leaders, so complaints will not be accepted!"
Baek Cheon raised his hand and tightened the knot of his heroic band.
So it begins.
He took a steady breath and looked toward the arena with calm eyes.
Far off, he could see the Southern Edge Sect gathered in front of one of the other arenas. Jin Geum-ryong would be there, along with his father.
"Hoo."
Chung Myung glanced at Baek Cheon and asked, "You look like you’re shaking."
"Of course I am."
"Huh?"
Chung Myung tilted his head at the unexpectedly calm admission. Baek Cheon replied in a steady voice.
"When I’ve been given the chance to let the world see Mount Hua’s sword, how could I not be nervous? My heart is so full I’m having trouble calming myself."
"Oh, look at you."
So he could say something that cool, too?
"Take it easy, take it easy. Don’t get all worked up and make a mistake."
"Chung Myung."
"Guys like you, sahyung or not, always end up overdoing it when they try to do well and then falling flat on their faces."
"Chung Myung."
"Don’t act like you’re not. Just keep calm."
"No, you little—!"
"Hm?"
Baek Cheon jerked his chin toward the back of Chung Myung.
"They’re calling you."
"Huh?"
Chung Myung turned around.
The Shaolin monk assisting the proceedings on the arena was shouting himself hoarse.
"Chung Myung of Mount Hua! Where is Chung Myung? What in the world happened to him? The match is about to begin!"
"Huh?"
"Chung Myung of Mount Hua! Is he not here? If not, it will be recorded as a forfeiture!"
Startled, Chung Myung hurriedly shot his hand into the air.
"Here! I’m here! Right here!"
Then he ran as fast as he could up onto the arena.
The Shaolin monk’s eyebrow twitched violently as he shouted, "Where on earth have you been!"
"Ah, it’s not like I went anywhere……."
"Get to the arena at once! Your opponent has been waiting for you this whole time!"
"Yes, yes."
Chung Myung trotted over and took his place on one side of the arena. His opponent had already taken his position and was waiting for him.
"Hello there…… huh?"
After checking his opponent’s face, Chung Myung tilted his head.
"Have we met somewhere before? Did we run into each other already?"
"……."
Chung Myung’s opponent, Guak Hwan-so, the chief disciple of South Sea, trembled all over and ground his teeth with a sickening crunch.
"You damned Mount Hua bastard! There’s a limit to how much you can look down on someone! You caused that mess just two days ago, and now you’ve forgotten me?"
"Ah……! Right, it’s you. You got knocked around and sent flying so fast that I couldn’t really remember your face."
"You punk!"
Guak Hwan-so shook with rage, then forced himself to take several deep breaths.
"And where did you leave your sword?"
"Huh?"
Chung Myung looked down at his own waist.
"Ah……."
After confirming his belt was empty, he looked back to where he’d been standing. Baek Cheon was there, holding Chung Myung’s sword and letting out deep sighs.
"Here."
Baek Cheon tossed the sword up onto the arena. Chung Myung snatched it out of the air and quickly strapped it to his waist.
Guak Hwan-so looked less offended than completely baffled.
"A sword user wandering around without his sword. Doesn’t Mount Hua teach even that much?"
"You don’t look impressive enough to lecture me about how another sect trains its disciples."
"What did you say! Weren’t you the one who said—"
"Enough. Let’s just start already."
Chung Myung cut him off and rolled his neck left and right.
Crack. Crack.
He hadn’t expected to step out first in the very first match, but that didn’t mean it was a bad thing.
Across from him, Guak Hwan-so bared his teeth and drew his sword.
Shrring.
"You bratty fool. You don’t know your place and run wild before heaven and earth. This works out perfectly. I’ve been waiting for a chance to take revenge on you Mount Hua bastards, and heaven itself is helping me. Once I draw my sword, I’ll show you that Mount Hua is nothing before South Sea."
"Ah, sure. Do your best, then. I’ll cheer for you."
Guak Hwan-so’s face twitched in fury, and he clenched his jaw so hard it nearly cracked.
But this time, he absolutely refused to be reckless.
Calm down.
Had he not already experienced just how terrifying this bastard’s mouth could be? There was no advantage in getting dragged into his pace for no reason.
If he was going to show something, he would show it with his sword.
Tense silence hung over all ten arenas. But the eyes of the crowd were focused solely on Chung Myung and Guak Hwan-so.
Those who knew about the clash between South Sea and Mount Hua not long ago had no choice but to watch this match.
"South Sea’s going to take revenge, right?"
"You don’t know anything! That Taoist named Chung Myung is the Mount Hua Divine Dragon! The Mount Hua Divine Dragon! Have you never heard of the greatest younger disciple in the world, the Mount Hua Divine Dragon?"
"Hm? That guy’s the Mount Hua Divine Dragon? He doesn’t look that strong."
"The bearing of a true master doesn’t always show on the surface."
"Or maybe the rumors were just exaggerated?"
"Well, we’re about to find out by watching this match, aren’t we?"
Everyone looked toward the arena with the same feeling.
On one side stood Mount Hua’s rising master who had returned to the martial world like a sudden storm, the Mount Hua Divine Dragon Chung Myung.
And on the other stood the chief disciple of South Sea, the Three Wave Sword Guak Hwan-so, the one who had pushed Mount Hua aside and taken one of the seats of the Nine Great Sects!
However famous the Mount Hua Divine Dragon might be as the greatest of the younger generation, the chief disciple of South Sea was surely no easy opponent either.
"Begin the match!"
At the great shout, the fighters who had stepped onto the arena all moved at once.
Restore South Sea’s honor!
Guak Hwan-so steadily forced down his excitement.
He must never underestimate his opponent.
There wasn’t the slightest hint of a master’s bearing in that brazen attitude, but if the title of greatest younger disciple in the world wasn’t just something won by luck, then he must have some trick up his sleeve.
So he would remain calm. Calm, and then calm again…….
Hm?
Guak Hwan-so’s eyes flew wide open.
Suddenly, the world had gone dark.
Wha—?
Dark? The world?
Illusion art?
No.
Guak Hwan-so realized it almost immediately.
The world had not gone dark at all; something had covered his vision.
Something glossy and black had filled his entire field of view.
This?
Fortunately, he was quick enough to identify what it was.
The sole of a shoe……?
But unfortunately, it was already too late.
KWAaaaaaang!
Chung Myung’s foot slammed straight into Guak Hwan-so’s face.
"Kweeeeeeeeeek!"
Guak Hwan-so let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered and was launched in a straight line toward the rear.
Whoooosh!
"W-what the hell!"
"Holy crap!"
The martial artists fighting in the other arenas jumped in alarm and hurriedly dodged out of the way as Guak Hwan-so shot through the air as though piercing the nine arenas behind him, then slammed into the wall at the far end of the arena.
KUUUUUUUNG!
"……."
Everyone stared blankly at Guak Hwan-so.
No, more precisely, they stared at the hole his body had punched clean through the wall.
"……."
The martial artists fighting in the other arenas lowered their weapons as well and stared blankly at the massive hole.
One by one, all those gazes slowly shifted back to the arena where Guak Hwan-so had originally stood. And at last, all eyes settled on Chung Myung.
Chung Myung brushed his hands off and muttered, "He took a beating from sahyung and still didn’t learn. And here he is spacing out in front of me. Was he trying to die?"
He clicked his tongue once or twice, then turned to look at Kongcho.
"I won, right?"
"……Huh?"
"It’s over, isn’t it? Can I go down now?"
"……Ah, ahh!"
Kongcho nodded vigorously and shouted, "The match in Group A is won by the Mount Hua disciple, Chung Myung!"
At those words, the entire Shaolin grounds, which had fallen silent for an instant, erupted in a thunderous cheer.
"Wooooooaaaaaah!"
"My word! In a single strike!"
"Mount Hua Divine Dragon! Mount Hua Divine Dragon!"
"Hahahahahaha! I can’t believe the day came when I’d witness a match like this with my own eyes! Incredible! Mount Hua Divine Dragon!"
Bathed in the roaring acclaim, Chung Myung trudged down from the arena. Then he came to stand before the Mount Hua disciples.
"You saw that, right?"
"Hm?"
"That’s all you have to do."
"……."
Well, aren’t you helpful.
We’re just dripping with gratitude, Chung Myung.