A Gentleman Does Not Go Looking for Trouble (2)
"Heeeey, your heaaaaad!"
Jo Gul’s sword came crashing down with a hearty, fearless strike.
Bang!
"Grrk."
The opponent trying to block it had his waist twisted out of line.
Jo Gul didn’t miss the opening and smashed the man’s ankle with a clean spinning kick.
"Aaagh!"
The opponent’s body popped up into the air. Of course, Jo Gul wasn’t the type to let an opening like that go to waste.
"Uraaaah!"
His sword came sweeping through and sent the man flying with a crisp crack.
"Aaaagh!"
Only the faint, distant scream of the man as he flew beyond the arena echoed through all of Shaolin.
"The winner is Jo Gul of Mount Hua!"
"Huff! Huff! Huff!"
Jo Gul let out a ragged breath.
The finale had been exhilarating, but it had been anything but easy. If he had let his guard down for even an instant, he would have lost.
It’s only getting harder.
The Nine Great Sects were the Nine Great Sects. The Five Great Families were the Five Great Families.
The fewer people remained, the higher the level of the opponents became. Even the Moyong family’s Moyong Do, whom he had just fought, was someone he couldn’t confidently say he’d definitely beat if they faced off again.
Still.
Anyway, a win’s a win!
Had Chung Myung said that?
Even if there was nothing to gain from winning, you had to win first and worry about the rest later. Jo Gul agreed with that a hundred times over.
As he straightened his bent back, cheers burst out from the crowd.
"Mount Hua has won them all!"
"My goodness, they really did win everything! They’re truly strong!"
"Then does that mean Mount Hua has four people left in the Round of Sixteen? Hah! To think I’d live long enough to see something like this with my own eyes!"
The spectators could not hide their astonishment.
Now he could say it with certainty.
This was absolutely no fluke.
"All those people who strutted around calling themselves the great names of the world have nowhere to put their faces now. To think Mount Hua produced four such masters."
"Four? Isn’t it five?"
"Huh? Why five?"
"Ah, come on! You can’t forget the Righteous Sword of Mount Hua! He withdrew because of an injury, sure, but he defeated Jin Geum-ryong of the Southern Edge Sect, who was hailed as a genius of the generation. How could you leave him out?"
"Mm! Now that you mention it, yes."
"Besides, I heard the Righteous Sword, Baek Cheon, is the highest ranked among them. There’s no way the sect’s great disciple would be weaker than his juniors, is there?"
"Just the Mount Hua Divine Dragon alone would’ve been enough to make them puff out their chests, and now there are four masters on par with him? The future of Mount Hua Sect looks brighter by the day!"
"Now all they have to do is win the whole thing, that’s all! Win it all!"
Expectation shone in everyone’s eyes.
By now, they wanted to see Mount Hua carry this momentum all the way to victory. It would be several times more entertaining than watching the usual strong contenders take the prize as expected.
And perhaps that expectation might not remain expectation for long.
"Agh, that was seriously hard."
Seeing Jo Gul grumbling as he returned to his seat, Yoon Jong frowned slightly.
"Why are you always whining so much after just one match?"
"……Sahyung."
"Hm?"
"I don’t know about anyone else, but I really don’t want to hear that from you. You got a free pass through byes, didn’t you?"
Yoon Jong smiled softly.
"And what exactly was I supposed to do? Refuse the bye and demand to fight?"
"Haaah."
Jo Gul let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
The one who should originally have advanced through a bye was Chung Myung. But because they redrew the bracket to prevent cheating, Yoon Jong had unexpectedly ended up getting the bye instead.
If he had simply been forced to fight one more match, Chung Myung would obviously have shouted, 'Where the hell do these bald bastards think they’re pulling their stupid little tricks?' and charged straight into the Great Hero Hall. But fortunately, since it was Mount Hua’s Yoon Jong who got the free advance, they could let it slide with a reasonable amount of tolerance.
"I seriously don’t get why they’d do something like this."
"Isn’t there some grand meaning behind it?"
Yoon Jong smiled.
"Shaolin is like the great elder of the martial world. And preventing cheating is, no matter how you look at it, a good thing. If they kept holding the tournament with fixed brackets, could you really be certain no one would bribe their way into changing results, or use personal connections?"
"……You’re just happy because it benefited you, aren’t you?"
"Kuh-hm. How could that possibly be?"
Yoon Jong cleared his throat loudly.
"I, too, am itching to prove my sword and show it before those people. But since the opportunity hasn’t been given to me, it is truly regrettable."
"Sahyung."
"Yes?"
"Would you mind wiping the syrup off your mouth first?"
"I already did."
"……."
A most benevolent smile spread across Yoon Jong’s face.
What part of this tournament was easy, winning without even fighting and stacking up victories for free?
Live upright and the heavens grant blessings, they said.
The heavens are blessing me.
And well, they should.
How could anyone possibly put into words all the hardships he had endured so far?
He happened to be the great disciple of the Cheong generation, and that damned Chung Myung had happened to enter Mount Hua as the youngest of the Cheong generation.
Considering the suffering he had gone through, even King Yama would have cried and said, “You’ve already endured hell in this life, so there’s no need for you to go to hell again.”
So wasn’t this much blessing entirely appropriate?
"Don’t get too happy. A bracket changing on its own means you don’t know who you’ll meet next, doesn’t it?"
"No matter who I meet, I’m confident."
"What if you end up facing me, then?"
"Then that day would become the day the hierarchy of the Cheong generation is firmly established once again."
"……Grrrrr."
Jo Gul ground his teeth.
Watching Yoon Jong smile with that polished face of his made his stomach turn.
"Do you really think life’s that easy?"
"But so far, everything has gone smoothly. Since coming to Shaolin, that is."
"Grr."
Yoon Jong smiled again.
"Shaolin must be giving me good fortune. I should probably aim for the finals."
And then Yoon Jong laughed heartily.
Utterly heartily.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
…….
The finals…
Right. He’d said the finals.
Yoon Jong slowly turned his head.
First came the spectators. Every one of them was looking at him with something close to pity.
…….
Then came the martial brothers of Mount Hua. Every single one of them was clicking their tongues at him.
And at the very front, Jo Gul sat with a triumphant grin plastered across his face, snickering to himself.
That bastard…
Just looking at Jo Gul, practically dying of delight, made Yoon Jong’s stomach churn. If he had his way, he’d leap down right now and smack that brat’s mouth clean off his face.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury to do that now.
Why?
The reason was painfully simple.
His trembling eyes slid toward his opponent in the arena.
I thought I’d be happy to get a bye.
These damn bastards!
What was the point of a bye if this happened?
The man standing across from him grinned from ear to ear before speaking.
"Don’t be scared, don’t be scared."
…….
"What’s the big deal? It’s just swinging a sword around a little, that’s all."
The corners of the man’s lips curled upward.
"But…"
The moment Yoon Jong saw the way the bastard gripped his sword, even through its scabbard, a cold sweat began to trickle down his back.
"Since I’ve got such a good opportunity, how about we check just how much Sahyung’s skill has improved? Properly. Very."
Very.
…….
At the sight of Chung Myung grinning like a demon, Yoon Jong finally squeezed his eyes shut.
What?
The heavens were blessing him?
What kind of nonsense was that?
Why!
There were sixteen people here, so why the hell was he matched against that demon?
No!
Those bald Shaolin bastards should have some common sense! Keeping people from the same sect from fighting each other as much as possible should be basic common practice, shouldn’t it?
And even if members of the same sect had to fight anyway, there was Jo Gul and there was the accident-prone one. So why, why the hell had it to be this damned bastard?
Yoon Jong looked up toward the platform with eyes gone watery.
He met Hyun Jong’s gaze, the sect leader looking at him with a deeply sympathetic expression.
Sect Leader.
But just like that, as if their eyes had never met, Hyun Jong subtly turned his gaze away.
…….
All those pitiful looks were pouring onto Yoon Jong, but none of them were in the slightest bit comforting.
Because…
"Heh-heh-heh-heh."
The very bastard who should have been pitying him was snickering his way over, looking like this was the most entertaining thing in the world.
……Chung Myung.
"Hm?"
"You seem to have forgotten, but I’m your sahyung."
"I know. I didn’t forget."
"No. It really looks like you did…"
Yoon Jong swallowed hard and spoke with deliberate calm.
"Think about it. If you beat me to a pulp here, what do you think everyone else watching Mount Hua will think?"
"Oh? That’s pretty intense."
…….
"Or maybe… they’ll think Mount Hua really does run on raw strength?"
"……They’ll say we’re a bunch of trash, won’t they?"
"Ah, is that so?"
Chung Myung’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. It was one of the most ominous smiles imaginable.
Whenever he smiled like that, something always happened!
"……So how about we don’t hurt each other and just keep this reasonable?"
Chung Myung nodded enthusiastically.
"That’s a good point, Sahyung."
"Oh, really?"
So he actually understood for once…
"But, Sahyung."
"Hm?"
"It seems like you’ve forgotten something too."
"……What?"
Chung Myung slammed his sword down into the ground.
Ka-BOOOOM!
The hard blue stone of the arena was crushed like mud beneath the blow.
…….
Chung Myung’s words followed, sounding almost as if he were spitting them out.
"Since when did Mount Hua ever do things halfway?"
…….
"What kind of brat who still hasn’t even dried the blood on his head is talking about doing things halfway? Halfway? Back in my day…"
"Right. It probably wasn’t like that in your day."
"Yeah, exactly."
"……And I’m older than you, you psycho."
"The one who fights better is the older one."
Yoon Jong covered his face.
This sect is fundamentally wrong somehow.
But still!
Slowly, Yoon Jong drew his sword.
"Remember this, Chung Myung."
"Hm?"
"I am your sahyung, and I am the great disciple of the Cheong generation. Yes. I always knew a day like this would come one day. I can’t be at your mercy forever!"
"Oooooh?"
Seeing Yoon Jong draw his sword with such determination, Chung Myung gave a strangely pleased smile.
"You think you can do it?"
"I don’t think I can win. But! Like Sago did, and like Sasook did, I should prove myself too! And if it’s you, you’ll be a worthy opponent!"
Yoon Jong’s eyes blazed with fighting spirit.
"Come. One day I, too, will have to lead Mount Hua. I’ll show you that my resolve won’t be beaten."
"Kuuuuh!"
Chung Myung nodded hard, as if deeply moved.
"That’s true enough."
He looked straight at Yoon Jong.
"Seems like I underestimated you, Sahyung. The way you acted in Yunnan too—yes, you’re definitely someone who can stand proudly as a disciple of Mount Hua without shame."
The corner of Yoon Jong’s mouth twitched.
Hearing those words from Chung Myung, who was so stingy with praise, meant quite a lot.
Chung Myung muttered,
"Resolve, huh."
Then he nodded.
"Fine. Then I guess I’d better take this seriously too."
"Huh?"
Swish.
…….
Slowly, Chung Myung began drawing his sword from the scabbard.
"Chung Myung?"
Why were you suddenly drawing your sword?
Were you trying to make people nervous?
With the scabbard still hanging at his side, Chung Myung raised the blade and pointed it at Yoon Jong.
"If a martial artist says he wants to prove his resolve, it’s only polite to meet him with your full strength! Don’t worry, Sahyung! I’ll give you my absolute best!"
…….
Was this supposed to make him happy?
Huh?
Was he supposed to be happy?
At that moment, Chung Myung’s aura began to erupt, sharp as a blade itself.
Facing that overwhelming presence head-on, so intense it was hard even to stand, Yoon Jong’s body involuntarily tensed.
"Now, I’m coming!"
The judge, who had been watching the situation, quickly raised a hand.
"Then, begin—"
"Judge!"
Just then, Yoon Jong suddenly snapped his head around and called out to the referee.
"Hm?"
And then he shouted decisively,
"I forfeit!"
…….
…….
A strange silence settled over all of Shaolin.
Yoon Jong carefully avoided the gaze of Chung Myung and the judge, both staring at him with rotten expressions. Then he murmured in a dignified voice,
"A gentleman never bothers with needless effort."
"……Aren’t you a Daoist? What kind of gentleman is a Daoist?"
…….
I need to live too.
I need to live.
Watching from below the arena, Baek Cheon smiled contentedly.
"Gul."
"Yes, Sasook!"
"Drag that bastard over here."
"Yes!"
Grinding his teeth, Baek Cheon cracked his neck from side to side.
"And I call that thing a sajil."
What a fine sect this was.
Truly, absolutely fine.
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