I Am Still Your Wall (5)
"Sasuk!"
"S-Sahyung!"
"Damn it!"
Cries exploded from the Mount Hua disciples’ mouths.
Blood was splattered all across the arena.
Jo Gul, Yoon Jong, and even Yu I-seol shot to their feet, eyes wide.
The only one still seated was Chung Myung.
He watched the arena with eyes that had gone cold and still.
He’s lost his cool.
Swordsmanship had a proper way of being used.
If you could win simply by using stronger moves, there would be no need for a duel at all.
Skill was measured by how perfectly you chose the right technique at the right moment.
And Baek Cheon had just made a mistake there.
The Plum Blossom Sword Art was a sword style of unmatched brilliance.
But to make those blossoms bloom, it needed distance and time. If you tried to force a graceful transformation against a swift sword that came at you every second of every breath, you’d lose your head before you even had the chance to finish drawing your blade.
"He damn well should know that."
Chung Myung ground his teeth.
There was no way Baek Cheon didn’t know it. He had explained sword theory countless times, over and over again. Objectively speaking, Baek Cheon was gifted enough to be called a prodigy; there was no way he hadn’t understood.
But excitement blinded people. It made them forget what they knew and choose differently than usual.
If his opponent hadn’t been Jin Geum-ryong—if it had been some other disciple of a famed sect with similar skill—Baek Cheon would never have made a mistake like this.
It was only because the opponent was Jin Geum-ryong that he could shake Baek Cheon’s composure and throw his mind into chaos.
"That idiot."
Chung Myung’s jaw clenched tight. His gaze remained fixed on the duel platform.
Then Jo Gul, out of habit, called Chung Myung’s name.
"Ch-Chung Myung!"
"Don’t make such a fuss!"
But Chung Myung barked back in a low voice.
"Sasuk’s usually an idiot, and he’s got a pride problem so big he goes off and does stupid crap, makes trouble for no reason, and acts like bad luck’s his personal hobby, but!"
"...Just swear at him already, man."
"Even so, if he’s a swordsman, he ought to be able to take a little injury like that."
His eyes were colder and heavier than usual.
"If he can still hold a sword, then he hasn’t lost. Even that idiot should know that."
At those words, Jo Gul swallowed dryly and turned his head. Baek Cheon came into view, gripping a wrist from which blood was streaming down in sheets.
Sasuk.
Jo Gul watched Baek Cheon with his throat going dry.
Throb.
Horrible pain pulsed through the wrist.
Baek Cheon pressed the wound tightly with his uninjured hand to stop the bleeding.
Was I careless?
No, this wasn’t carelessness.
This was not carelessness so much as arrogance. Yes, arrogance.
I knew he was strong.
He was strong because none of Baek Cheon’s tricks worked on him. Against someone like that, every swing of the sword had to be weighed and weighed again.
And yet, for a fleeting moment, Baek Cheon had been intoxicated with himself and forgotten to think. The wound in his wrist was the price of that arrogance.
When Baek Cheon finally pulled his hand away, a wound so deep the bone was almost visible lay exposed.
Looking at it, Jin Geum-ryong spoke at last.
"The flowers of Mount Hua are beautiful."
His voice was utterly flat.
As though injuring Baek Cheon had been nothing more than the most natural result in the world, Jin Geum-ryong’s tone held no rise or fall at all.
"But if you cut the branch before the flower blooms, it’s all for nothing. Just like you now."
Baek Cheon bit down hard on his lower lip.
Jin Geum-ryong’s words stabbed at him with painful precision. Then, in an even colder voice, Jin Geum-ryong said,
"Didn’t I tell you? You’re insolent."
"...".
"You’ve been running around with Chung Myung, so I suppose you think that makes you something special. But this is exactly what it means to borrow another’s power while pretending it’s your own. Without the protection of the Mount Hua Divine Dragon, you are nothing. Yes—nothing at all."
The words drove straight into his heart.
Whether it was the wound or those words, his heart had begun to pound on its own. His face burned, and cold sweat soaked his back.
Baek Cheon tightened his grip on the sword hand a little more.
It moves.
Even through the awful pain, his hand moved. The tendons seemed unharmed.
At this level, drawing the sword should not be a major problem.
I can still do this.
When Jin Geum-ryong saw the fighting spirit return to his eyes, he narrowed them.
"You intend to continue?"
"...Of course."
"Nothing will change. Don’t you understand?"
"Maybe so."
Baek Cheon bared his teeth and spoke like a growl.
"But I know what looks pathetic. If I retreat here, I’m nothing but a stupid piece of trash."
"...Trash, is it?"
Jin Geum-ryong smiled thinly.
"At least you seem capable of recognizing your place. Good. I was worried you’d forgotten it."
His icy sneer cut into Baek Cheon’s ears.
"Then come at me, trash."
Baek Cheon glared at Jin Geum-ryong, teeth clenched.
I can still do this.
He hadn’t lost. Not yet. Not... yet.
At the very least, if he tried his best and still lost, then he could accept the defeat. But if he was defeated without having done anything at all, he would never surpass Jin Geum-ryong in his entire life.
So right now, all he could do was give everything he had.
Throb! Throb!
As he gripped the sword as though it might snap, hellish pain surged up from his wrist.
Was it because he had lost too much blood? His vision seemed to blur. The world that had been sharp was gradually fading at the edges.
Focus!
He had to focus—enough to forget the pain of the wound.
But...
Could he really win?
His heart began hammering.
Even at full strength, he hadn’t been able to overwhelm Jin Geum-ryong. No—if he were honest, he’d been the one being pushed back.
And now, with an injured wrist, could he really defeat Jin Geum-ryong?
Damn it.
Suddenly, Jin Geum-ryong seemed impossibly large.
The arrogant face looking down at him began to overlap with the one from his memories.
He’s always had that expression.
—You cannot beat me.
And he had always heard those words.
Every time.
Every challenge had ended the same way. He had always rushed in believing he would win, and he had always lost the same way.
So what about this time?
Am I losing again...?
He had been talking big, but he knew better than anyone that the odds had turned bleak. Victory wasn’t something desire alone could force into existence.
Facing Jin Geum-ryong in this state was too difficult.
Then what the hell was he suppo—
"YAAAAAA! YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"
Baek Cheon jerked and turned his head.
Chung Myung had shot up from his seat, eyes wild.
"Uh..."
He bared his teeth and roared.
"Why the hell are you hanging your head like that? I’ll smash that skull in if you keep it up!"
"...".
"And you call yourself Mount Hua’s eldest disciple?"
As if that weren’t enough, Chung Myung practically foamed at the mouth and started charging toward the duel platform.
Yoon Jong and Jo Gul, who had been standing nearby, immediately rushed in and grabbed his arms and legs.
Like trying to pin down a stubborn, powerful beast, Yoon Jong shouted at the disciples behind him, face drained of color.
"Swarm him! Hurry!"
The Mount Hua disciples darted toward Chung Myung without even looking back.
"Hold him back! Hold him back!"
"Chung Myung! There are eyes everywhere! That’s your Sasuk!"
"Cover his mouth! The mouth first!"
They all piled on at once to pin Chung Myung down. They climbed over him like a small mountain, but even beneath them Chung Myung kept rolling his eyes and shouting.
"Why are you standing there looking all pathetic and defeated! Even if your skull gets cracked, your neck better stay straight! That’s Mount Hua, you damn Sasuk bastard!"
The audience stared at Chung Myung in stunned disbelief.
Even Jin Geum-ryong on the duel platform couldn’t fully hide his confusion.
Only one man let out a dry laugh at Chung Myung’s words.
"That damn Sajae bastard."
And then his back straightened.
Chung Myung was right.
Winning and losing were not what mattered. If he truly saw Jin Geum-ryong as a wall, then he had no right to despair in front of it.
"What did you learn?"
"...".
"Don’t forget! What did you learn?"
Calm began to return to Baek Cheon’s face.
What did I learn?
A corner of his mouth slowly lifted.
"Why, how to win."
Whoosh!
Tearing his clothes, Baek Cheon bound the injured hand to the hilt of his sword. He tied it so tightly that blood could scarcely flow, then raised the blade and pointed it straight at Jin Geum-ryong.
His face had found its composure once more.
Seeing that, Chung Myung’s eyes gleamed.
"Urachaaa!"
"Ack!"
"Whaaat!"
The Mount Hua disciples who had been piled on top of him were flung off in every direction. Chung Myung rose to his feet in one motion and grinned.
"Yeah. Sasuk’s the kind who’s a little unlucky. That’s better."
Way better than looking scared stiff!
Then Jo Gul, who had come back over, spoke with a worried face.
"Chung Myung, Sasuk..."
"No need to worry."
Without turning his head, Chung Myung cut him off decisively.
"Sasuk’s stronger than you think."
There was ironclad certainty in his voice.
It settled.
His heart slowly settled.
I was stupid.
Getting excited?
Of course that was a mistake too.
But an even bigger mistake was that he had forgotten Mount Hua’s teaching.
—Calm? On a battlefield where blood is splashing and flesh is being torn apart, how do you expect to stay calm? That’s just the nonsense of people who don’t know a damn thing. Everyone gets excited. What matters is that even in that excitement, you don’t lose your sword.
What a joke.
During training, he had heard that nagging so often it had almost become wallpaper in his ears. Sometimes it had been enough to make him want to shove the sword scabbard right into Chung Myung’s mouth just to shut him up.
And yet those awful lectures were the very thing opening the path for him now.
Remember it.
Mount Hua’s teachings.
The endless damned nagging.
—Who the hell uses a sword with their hands? Can you swing a sword if your damn feet aren’t planted on the ground? What, do you plan to fly around in the air and dance with your blade? A sword that can’t rely on its legs is nothing but random flailing! Every sword begins with the feet! A plum blossom without roots can’t bloom!
Yes.
It began with the feet. Then the lower body.
Every sword began with the lower body. He had forgotten even something that basic.
—Don’t chase after brilliance! If I get bewitched by the brilliance of the sword I’m using, I’ll end up being dragged around by the sword itself. The foundation of Mount Hua isn’t the Plum Blossom Sword Art! It’s the Yukhap Sword! Motion within stillness! The basic principle of Mount Hua’s sword is motion within stillness. If you can’t keep your mind calm inside brilliant motion, then however splendid the plum blossoms may bloom, it’s just the performance of a clown!
Right. I forgot that too.
Baek Cheon couldn’t help but let out a snort.
He had forgotten everything he had learned, and still expected victory. What kind of stupidity was that?
Seeing him laugh under his breath, Jin Geum-ryong narrowed his eyes.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Ah... I suppose I made you misunderstand. Don’t worry. I’m not laughing at you. I was laughing at myself."
"So you’ve gone mad."
"Maybe so."
Baek Cheon gave his sword a sharp, sweeping shake.
Then he looked at Jin Geum-ryong with unwavering eyes.
"I forgot something for a moment. What I need to prove isn’t that I’ve become stronger than you."
"...".
"What I need to prove is Mount Hua’s sword. Come at me. I’ll prove that the Southern Edge Sect’s sword is no match for Mount Hua’s."
"With that wounded hand?"
"Even better."
Baring his teeth, Baek Cheon smiled.
"It’ll make the proof that much clearer."
A hollow laugh slipped from Jin Geum-ryong’s lips.
"Nothing is uglier than empty bravado unsupported by skill."
"Agreed. So..."
Baek Cheon lifted his chin slightly. Then he smiled.
"Stop the bravado and come at me."
At the same moment, Jin Geum-ryong’s eyes were overlaid with a sheet of icy killing intent.
"Very well."
His body shot forward at Baek Cheon with terrifying speed.
"Let’s see how much longer you can keep talking!"
Clang!
The sword that flashed in like a streak of light was knocked away just before Baek Cheon’s throat.
What?
For a moment, Jin Geum-ryong couldn’t hide his shock.
What surprised him wasn’t that Baek Cheon had blocked his blade. It was how natural Baek Cheon’s movement was as he deflected the strike, different from before.
What is this?
Something had clearly changed.
Grinding his teeth, Jin Geum-ryong slashed again. In an instant, more than ten strikes poured down toward Baek Cheon.
A terrifying flurry of attacks that few people could even follow with their eyes.
And yet Baek Cheon, with his calm, lowered gaze, met every single one without strain.
The sounds of blades colliding rang out in a rapid, relentless stream.
Keep the head cold.
Keep the heart even colder.
Plant the lower body firmly against the earth, and keep the waist straight to support the body.
A person who cannot hold his own center cannot even hold a sword upright.
Recall it.
Mount Hua’s teachings were already fused into his flesh and bone. If he could only follow them and not forget them, there was no reason he had to lose.
As he chased the sword exchange, his gaze slipped past Jin Geum-ryong and landed on the Mount Hua disciples.
Don’t look at me like that.
Look up to me? Believe in me?
You fools.
I’ve only ever lost.
I’ve never once surpassed Jin Geum-ryong, and I’ve never properly led you either.
I’ve lost, and lost again.
And yet—
Why are you all looking at me like that, with those damn hopeful eyes?
You idiots.
Baek Cheon clenched his teeth.
Clang!
He shoved back the incoming strike with tremendous force, and light burst into his eyes.
Without missing the opening created by that perfect defense, his sword shifted from defense to offense.
Jin Geum-ryong, startled by Baek Cheon’s swift counterattack as it rushed for his throat, instinctively stepped back.
"You bastard!"
"Shut up!"
Baek Cheon barked harshly.
There were people there who believed in him.
People who, even after he had lost and lost and lost again, still believed he would win this time.
And yet I...!
"I can’t lose to you!"
Baek Cheon’s sword gleamed in the dazzling sunlight. That light scattered across Jin Geum-ryong’s entire body.
Watching that sight, Chung Myung spoke in an unnaturally low voice.
"Watch carefully."
"...".
"I’m about to bloom."
All that had been layered up over time.
The long, long years of silent endurance—the withered flower at last began to meet spring.