A Gentleman Does Not Go Looking for Trouble (3)
Tao is not something one merely pursues.
Just as a plum tree endures the cold, long winter before finally bursting into beautiful bloom, the pursuit of the Way also demands long, patient endurance.
That was why Yoon Jong endured. And endured again.
That was the mark of a true Daoist…
"Got lost in your own thoughts?"
"……."
Yoon Jong slowly lifted his head.
The Baek generation disciples surrounding him were all glaring at him with fierce, slanted eyes.
Ah…
Those savage looks.
They were full of reproach for a martial nephew who had committed a crime.
But then…
Jo Gul?
There was Jo Gul, wedged in among the Baek generation disciples, pointing and barking just as loudly as the rest. Yoon Jong’s cheek began to twitch.
Why are you in there with them?
"I mean!"
Baek Cheon, standing in the center with his arms crossed, shot him a wild look.
"I’m pissed, that’s why!"
"……."
"You’re the chief disciple of the Cheong generation, and you forfeited the match? Without even swinging your sword once?"
"I mean…"
Yoon Jong looked around with an expression of utter grievance, but the Baek generation disciples had no intention of hearing him out.
"Look at that. Seriously, look at that punk."
"He learned to swing a sword a little better and got cocky, huh?"
"A disciple of Mount Hua surrenders? Surrenders? I’m gonna crack his skull open."
Yoon Jong squeezed his eyes shut.
It was like a pack of wolves had caught the scent of blood and come swarming from all directions.
But wasn’t this truly unfair?
"No, really…"
"No, what do you mean, no!"
"Where do you think you’re opening your mouth, where!"
"Hey! Why did you surrender? Answer me!"
"Open that damn mouth, you hear?"
"……."
Listen.
I get that you’re mad, but if you’re all going to beat me up together, shouldn’t you at least get your stories straight?
Should I open my mouth or keep it shut…?
And Jo Gul, why the hell are you butting in and talking down to me like that?
That bastard…?
Just then, Baek Cheon let out a long sigh and continued in a grave voice.
"With so many people watching, a disciple of Mount Hua surrendered. What are people supposed to think of Mount Hua?"
"We’re fellow sect brothers…"
"Which makes it worse! How can a senior brother surrender to a junior brother? Is that even sensible? No wonder Mount Hua’s discipline is running backward! At the very least, you should’ve swung your sword once! Twitched a little before losing!"
At last, unable to hold it in any longer, Yoon Jong spoke with all the bitterness of the wronged.
"……Shouldn’t that depend on who the opponent is?"
"What?"
The Baek generation disciples glared, but Yoon Jong stood his ground.
"What my martial uncles said is all true! As a senior brother, I shouldn’t have surrendered like that! Even if I couldn’t show the dignity of a senior brother, I should at least have shown some resolve!"
"Oh?"
Baek Cheon tilted his head.
"Then why did you?"
"But would that bastard ever show any mercy just because I’m a senior brother? He smashes people’s heads in first, man or woman, young or old, rank be damned! That bastard shouldn’t be in Mount Hua—he should be a magistrate! He’d beat down rich or poor, powerful or common, all the same!"
"……."
"Do you really think a guy like that would go easy on me just because I’m his senior brother? Think about it rationally! If it were just a normal match, I’d at least step in. But the moment I do, he’d think it’s great and smash my head anyway. I need to stay alive first!"
Yoon Jong straightened his shoulders with righteous conviction.
"Anyone here who would fight Chung Myung without surrendering, even if it means getting their skull cracked open, feel free to throw a stone at me!"
"……."
The Baek generation disciples averted their eyes, wearing awkward expressions.
They wanted to yell at him, sure, but honestly, going all-out against Chung Myung was not exactly something a sane person would do.
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Yoon Jong’s face.
See? This was a logical argument no one could refute…
Huh? Jo Gul?
Why are you picking up a rock?
Then Baek Cheon, who had been listening silently, looked at Yoon Jong and nodded.
"Fine. You’re not wrong."
"Senior brother!"
"Aren’t you being too soft?"
"Quiet."
As complaints burst out among the Baek generation disciples, Baek Cheon frowned and shoved them down with his gaze.
"Yoon Jong."
"Yes, martial uncle."
"I understand your reasoning perfectly."
"Martial uncle!"
Yoon Jong looked at him with tearful eyes.
As expected, Baek Cheon was the one person in this lawless Mount Hua who still spoke sense…
"But."
"Yes?"
"No matter how I look at it, your choice feels a bit like a mistake…"
"……."
"Even if we understand, do you think that bastard would understand?"
"Pardon?"
"That bastard."
Baek Cheon jerked his chin in one direction. Following the gesture, Yoon Jong turned his head—and finally saw it.
Chung Myung, pockets full from the gambling table, was walking toward them with a faint smile playing on his lips.
"……."
The Baek generation disciples, upon spotting Chung Myung, backed away little by little as though they had seen a huge dog foaming at the mouth.
Yoon Jong’s face began to twitch.
"What are you all gathered here for?"
"No, well…"
Chung Myung crouched down beside Yoon Jong, who was still kneeling, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Senior brother."
"……Mm?"
"That was very rational of you, wasn’t it?"
"……Huh?"
Cold sweat began to trickle down Yoon Jong’s forehead.
"Rational. Yeah, rational is good. There’s no need to waste energy and blood fighting a guy you can’t beat anyway. Better to surrender fast and preserve your strength, right? That makes sense, doesn’t it?"
Yoon Jong shot Chung Myung a careful sideways glance.
He was smiling brightly, so from his expression alone it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
Come to think of it, it was a strange thing—someone smiling like that, and yet you still couldn’t read him at all. Still!
Keeping one eye on Chung Myung, Yoon Jong opened his mouth cautiously.
"Y-yeah, right?"
"Of course."
"……You’re not mocking me, are you?"
"Hey. Have you ever seen me mock people?"
"……Huh?"
Come to think of it, he hadn’t.
Now that he thought about it, this bastard wasn’t the sort to patiently mock someone he disliked. He’d just charge in and crack their skull first.
"R-right. I thought so too."
A bit of color returned to Yoon Jong’s face. If he could just get past this bastard first, whether the martial uncles complained or not…
But as always, life never went the way one wanted.
"But, you know."
"……Mm?"
At that moment, Chung Myung smiled meaningfully.
"Then why did you draw your sword?"
"Huh?"
"You little—!"
Chung Myung, still seated, suddenly thrust out a leg and kicked Yoon Jong hard.
"Keh!"
Yoon Jong rolled end over end and landed face-first on the ground with a thud. Chung Myung sprang to his feet, shouting furiously.
"If you were so rational, why the hell were you waving a sword around? If there was a reason to draw a sword, you should’ve gone to the magistrate’s office, the magistrate’s office!"
"……."
Chung Myung’s eyes rolled wildly.
"No, seriously. What the hell is wrong with you people? Rational? These old men would probably see the Demonic Sect and say, 'Let’s talk this out peacefully.' Where do you get off talking about rationality when you’re all monks who go around holding swords?"
"N-no…"
"Grrrrr!"
In an instant, Chung Myung had transformed into a mad dog. Foaming at the mouth, he lunged at Yoon Jong. The Baek generation disciples panicked and grabbed him in a hurry.
"Chung Myung, calm down!"
"You can still settle this later in the main hall! Just calm down first!"
Only moments ago they had looked ready to beat Yoon Jong to death themselves, and now they were desperately holding Chung Myung back.
"Rational? Rationalrrr? You’re so damn rational, yet you hack away in some mountain valley because you want to ascend to immortality? Huh? You rational old men, what are you doing coming to a Daoist sect in the first place? Like a damn butcher looking for meat in a temple!"
"……You’re the one who found meat in a temple, aren’t you?"
"What?"
"Ah, no."
Yoon Jong closed his mouth tightly. But his aggrieved gaze remained fixed on the jerky in Chung Myung’s hand.
Without that, he wouldn’t even have the right to feel wronged.
"I’m about to burst from frustration!"
"I’m pissed!"
"How embarrassing."
After taking a three-hit combo from Chung Myung, Baek Cheon, and Yu I-seol, Yoon Jong wilted and lowered his head.
A person was allowed to surrender sometimes, wasn’t he? What were these people, incapable of retreat?
"Spineless coward…"
"……You really can die for that."
Jo Gul, who had been about to toss in a comment of his own, flinched and backed away.
Then came a voice of salvation.
"So this is where you all were."
"Ah, martial uncle Jo!"
"Martial uncle!"
Un Geom was approaching them with a gentle smile.
"I watched the match well."
"Hall leader!"
With tears welling in his eyes, Yoon Jong ran toward Un Geom. If he stayed beside Un Geom, then even Chung Myung, that crazed tiger, and his martial uncles, those starving wolves, wouldn’t be able to torment him any further.
Un Geom smiled as he saw Yoon Jong rushing toward him, then reached out and caught his ear.
"Agh! Hall leader! My ear! My ear!"
"Come here."
"Ahhh! Hall leader, my ear! My actual ear! It’s going to fall off! My ear!"
"Quiet! I’m the White Plum Hall leader, and I can’t live with the shame. How could the so-called chief disciple—just follow me, and stop talking!"
Everyone stared blankly as Un Geom dragged Yoon Jong away by the ear.
"……Was martial uncle always like that?"
At someone’s mutter, a desolate reply came.
"Everyone ends up like that. They all do."
The Mount Hua disciples let out a collective sigh.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Even taking a step forward was difficult. Every time Yi Song-baek lifted a foot, pain throbbed through his injuries.
Still, he said nothing and kept walking. It was not the time to complain. The wounds Southern Edge had suffered were far greater than his own.
He glanced around, then let out a low sigh.
Heavy.
They looked exactly like defeated soldiers returning from a lost battle.
Perhaps that was only natural.
Defeat was the kind of thing one did not truly feel in the moment.
Only with time, as one came to understand what had been lost, did defeat’s wounds cut more deeply.
Southern Edge had lost too much in this tournament. Perhaps more than it could ever recover.
Yi Song-baek lifted his head and looked up at the sky.
A sect in ruins.
A lost soul.
And people left with nothing but despair.
All of it pressed down on him with suffocating weight.
But Yi Song-baek did not lower his head.
Did you begin from here?
No—Mount Hua must have been in far greater despair. Unlike Southern Edge, which still had people left and a reputation left to cling to, Mount Hua had quite literally had nothing at all.
And from that despair alone, Chung Myung had led Mount Hua to where it stood now in just a few short years.
Can I do it?
Yi Song-baek quietly closed his eyes.
He did not entertain the foolish dream that he could do it exactly like Chung Myung. But if Chung Myung had done it in a few years, then perhaps with decades of effort, he too might one day manage it.
If he worked and worked and worked.
A long road.
A road so long it seemed boundless.
Can I walk that road?
"Hah."
At that moment, Yi Song-baek’s legs gave way and his body lurched.
Grab.
The junior disciples walking beside him quickly reached out and supported him.
"Are you all right, senior brother?"
"Your injuries are still severe."
Yi Song-baek lifted his head to look at them.
Senior brother.
It was a title he had not heard in some time. The junior disciples had been reluctant even to speak to him before. He had not expected such people to support him and worry over him like this.
"I’m fine."
When Yi Song-baek nodded, the disciples withdrew their hands with embarrassed expressions. Then, after a bit of hesitation, one of them spoke.
"Um… senior brother."
"Yes?"
"When we return to Southern Edge, could you teach me the Southern Edge's Thirty-Six Sword Technique?"
"……Me?"
"Yes."
The disciple hesitated for a moment, then said quietly,
"It feels a little awkward to ask the martial uncles or the sect master…"
Yi Song-baek glanced around. The junior disciples were sneaking looks at him from time to time. But there was no contempt in those eyes now, none of the old disdain.
"Would that be all right? You’re all practicing the Snow Flower Twelve Sword."
"W-well, yes, but…"
The disciple scratched the back of his head.
"After watching your match with that Mount Hua Divine Dragon… I started to think that the Snow Flower Twelve Sword might not be the only answer."
"……I see."
Yi Song-baek turned his head and looked back toward the place they had left behind.
Shaolin, now already distant.
He was there.
Daoist Chung Myung.
Chung Myung had opened the path for him. And perhaps, through their match, he had also opened the path for Southern Edge.
He could not know whether Chung Myung had intended that or not…
We will meet again someday.
And when that day came, he would repay the debt he owed.
After staring quietly in that direction for a while, Yi Song-baek turned forward once more.
His eyes held not the slightest wavering.
"Come. There is much work waiting for us when we return to Southern Edge."
"Yes, senior brother!"
More strength entered Yi Song-baek’s steps as he headed toward Southern Edge.