Where Is That Beggar Bastard Now? (4)
A man who had committed a crime had to be punished.
There was no need to debate whether it was right or wrong; it was closer to a self-evident principle.
And yet the reason that obvious principle had been argued over from antiquity to this very moment was simple: people could never agree on where the proper limit of punishment lay.
In that sense…
They weren't even human.
A low groan slipped from Jongpal's lips.
"This is a bit…"
The instant he tried to voice even the slightest complaint, the response came down on him like a blade.
"You got something to say?"
"You opening your eyes?"
"You breathing?"
"…."
Jongpal flinched and quickly hunched his shoulders. Then, in his heart, he muttered the words he hadn't been able to say.
Isn't that a little too harsh for the crime he committed?
But he couldn't even think of protesting out loud.
The reason was laughably simple. Around him were hulking Mount Hua brutes who looked like they could have been roaming the mountain roads as bandits, the kind of people who would have had Green Forest thieves bowing and shouting, "Brother!" the moment they saw their arms.
Skin tanned dark by the sun.
Solid, muscular builds.
And broad shoulders with faces as rough and intimidating as they came.
There was no way to tell whether these were the descendants of a prestigious sword sect or bandits fresh out of Green Forest.
To those who had watched the tournament from Shaolin, the sight was now somewhat familiar, but for Jongpal, who had arrived at Shaolin only yesterday, it was a shock in and of itself.
Did these guys just spend all their time running around the mountains without washing, and come here only for business?
At this point, just on appearance alone, there would be recruitment wars breaking out across the seventy-two Green Forest strongholds scattered throughout the land.
And that wasn't all.
"You staring? I swear I'll dig your eyeballs out."
"You should be thanking the heavens this is Shaolin. If this were Mount Hua, do you really think you'd still be alive? You'd be buried under a plum tree, chanting sutras by now."
"The more I think about it, the madder I get. I ought to roll you straight down from the summit of Nagan Peak!"
Their personalities fit Green Forest perfectly too.
Jongpal swallowed his tears and bowed his head low.
How did I end up like this?
Hong Dae-gwang had tossed him straight into the middle of these beastlike Mount Hua lunatics the moment they reached Shaolin, then run off without even looking back.
How could anyone be so irresponsible? If he was even a little like a Seven-Knot Beggar of the Beggars' Sect, shouldn't he have protected the disciple of the proverbially knowledgeable old masters?
What?
Beggars were naturally irresponsible?
Well… that was true, but…
Jongpal let out a deep sigh.
Come to think of it, if someone had any sense of responsibility, they wouldn't have become a beggar in the first place.
Even if they did become one, they'd have found some other way to survive in short order.
Just like that bastard Chosam over there.
Jongpal's eyes, fixed on the martial arena in secret, began to tremble violently.
Chosam… no, that bastard Qingming was beating his opponent like a dog underfoot.
"You little bastard, you're running?"
"H-heeek!"
The opponent, panicked out of his mind, retreated almost in flight, dodging left and right, but Qingming, eyes blazing, doggedly pursued him.
One man fleeing, the other chasing with fire in his eyes — that ridiculous spectacle was unfolding right here, in this very place.
Jongpal's face twisted with emptiness.
This isn't even some kind of opera.
This was the site of the All-Heaven Tournament. And what was happening there right now was a battle in the tournament's quarterfinals.
In other words, the survivors of the tournament were the eight strongest young experts in the world. Every one of them should have been formidable beyond measure.
"What kind of ink-smeared scholar crawls up into a tournament and fans himself around? I'll shove that fan up your nostrils!"
"T-that's tradition…"
"I've never liked that tradition from the old days! What? Fan techniques? Fan teeechniques? You think you can fight by waving a stupid fan around?"
The white fan made of Geomungo Sect's signature feathers shot up into the air.
Watching it, Jongpal shook his head.
That stupid brute.
The fan techniques of the Zhuge Family were known as second to none, but they were utterly useless against that monster.
And though the Illusion Eight Trigrams Steps that had elevated the Zhuge Family to one of the Five Great Families were being unleashed with enough footwork to sweat the soles clean off, it still wasn't enough to shake off that leechlike bastard.
What the hell happened in the past three years?
The Chosam Jongpal remembered had been just an ordinary beggar, nothing sharp-edged or special about him. But what kind of hell had he gone through to change so much in only three years?
Did he eat some biter's dragon-oxen pill or something?
If he had, then it must have been a dragon-oxen destined to become an evil dragon, because there was no other way to explain a personality that rotten.
"Your head! Your head!"
"Aaaagh!"
Qingming's sword sheath came down like a cudgel, slamming brutally into Zhuge Song's head.
Zhuge Song clutched his skull with both hands and rolled across the floor.
"So they say the Zhuge Family's got a genius brain, huh! Let's crack that good brain open and have a look! Drop your arms, you punk! Try to block it and you'll break your arm!"
"Agh! Young hero, young hero! My arm! My arm!"
"Oh? You're still blocking?"
Jongpal could no longer bear to watch the miserable sight and finally turned his head away.
The martial world has gone upside down.
The Zhuge Family was famous for its fan techniques and footwork, but the reason they had gained such renown across the world was, above all, their extraordinary intellect.
And yet, in this very moment, the very foundation of that intellect — the Zhuge Family's brain, so to speak — was crumbling beneath Mount Hua's violence.
It was truly a symbolic scene.
And the people watching it had long since moved beyond amazement and into sheer absurdity.
"…Can this really be happening?"
"Still, it's supposed to be a martial tournament…"
Martial arts meant comparing the strength of martial power. In that sense, the tournament in the normal meaning of the word had already ended a long time ago.
All that remained was watching how overwhelmingly the Mount Hua Divine Dragon would crush each opponent.
And the only people who accepted the scene before them with complete calm were the disciples of Mount Hua.
"He should just surrender already."
"That's a matter of pride. It's one or the other: your head gets cracked or your pride gets cracked."
"Then the latter's better, isn't it?"
"Guess all those rumors about the Zhuge Family being smart were nonsense too. Thinking they could go up against that guy…"
The Mount Hua disciples clicked their tongues and tossed out comments one after another.
Others called Mount Hua unruly, but Mount Hua had never once truly been unruly. Their ferocity was only the result of having desperately clawed their way through survival against that insane bastard Qingming.
If you wanted to call yourself the brain trust of the martial world, you should at least possess enough sense to read the situation. It seemed that Zhuge bastard had failed to inherit his ancestors' wisdom.
The result?
Simple enough.
Thud!
Zhuge Song collapsed where he stood. Sprawled flat on the floor, steam seemed to rise from his head.
"Still, because you're a scholar, I took it easy on you."
Qingming caught the White Feather Fan that had been falling from the air, idly fanned himself with it, and climbed down from the arena.
The Mount Hua disciples watched him with satisfied expressions.
"For someone in the quarterfinals, there ought to be some suspense."
"No chance. Not with that guy. He's too much for the younger generation."
Qingming was proving, even in the tournament, that his overwhelming strength was no different from what he showed at Mount Hua.
And that fact filled Mount Hua's disciples with both hope and sorrow.
The hope was that if they simply followed Qingming's lead well enough, they could overturn the lot of the orthodox sects and everything else besides.
The sorrow was that no matter how hard they struggled, they would never, for as long as they lived and breathed, get a day when they could beat that damned bastard.
The disciples of the great sects were being swept away like leaves before a broom; how in the world were they supposed to beat Qingming?
All they could do was flatten themselves to the ground like soggy leaves and hope to survive.
"So, that's one person into the semifinals, right?"
"And now the second one is the problem…"
The Mount Hua disciples all turned their heads toward one spot.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No, well, not specifically…"
"It's fine. It's fine. Just getting this far is already good enough."
Under everyone's gaze, Jo Geol puffed out his cheeks.
"I might still win, you know."
"Hahaha. Of course, of course."
"Maybe let's see who Sajae's up against first?"
Seeing that they were practically treating his victory as a nonissue, Jo Geol seemed to bristle and pushed himself upright.
Then Yoon Jong smiled gently and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Geol."
"Yes?"
"Words alone are meaningless. If you truly believe that, then prove yourself on the arena!"
At those words, Jo Geol's eyes ignited.
"That's right, Sasuk! Then I'm off!"
"Yes. I believe in you."
Filled with determination, Jo Geol gripped the sword at his waist and leaped toward the martial arena.
And to the now-empty seat he left behind, Qingming strolled over and sat down.
"Good work."
"It's nothing. But who's Jo Geol's opponent?"
"Hm."
Yoon Jong shrugged with a smile before answering.
"Shaolin's Hye Yeon."
"Ah. Want to go get something to eat?"
"…."
And with that, Qingming lost interest in Jo Geol at once.
At that blade-sharp reaction, Baek Cheon quietly asked him, "Qingming."
"Yeah?"
"Is the difference really that big?"
"Hm?"
Baek Cheon glanced toward the arena and said, "Of course, Jo Geol isn't exactly weak, but I don't think he'd get so thoroughly crushed even against Jin Geum-ryong or Namgung Do-wi. After all, he did make it to the quarterfinals with his own ability."
Besides, had not the whole world acknowledged Jo Geol's skill enough to earn him the title of one of the Five Swords of Mount Hua?
"Ah. Jo Geol-sasuk? Ah, well… yeah. He's strong. Sure, he's strong."
There was a faintly indifferent tone in Qingming's voice.
"But that's not the issue."
"…Then what is it?"
"Strength is relative, isn't it?"
Qingming jerked his chin.
At the end of his gaze stood Hye Yeon, calmly stepping up onto the arena.
"He can't handle that guy."
"…."
"You'll see."
Qingming's eyes fixed straight on Hye Yeon.
"Hoo."
Standing on the arena, Jo Geol took a deep breath and clasped his hands together.
"I am Jo Geol of Mount Hua!"
In response, the monk in yellow robes pressed his palms together and bowed his head.
"I am Hye Yeon of Shaolin."
A gentle, small voice.
It held not even a trace of aggression.
Looking at Hye Yeon, Jo Geol frowned slightly.
He doesn't look strong at all.
Of course, that didn't mean he planned to underestimate him or let down his guard. Qingming didn't look strong either, on the surface.
Rather, Jo Geol had learned from experience that the ones who looked the least dangerous in the martial world were often the most dangerous of all.
Still, how should he put it?
His vibe is completely different.
Hye Yeon felt different from any martial artist Jo Geol had seen so far.
More precisely, he felt foreign.
Jo Geol had seen quite a few Shaolin monks since coming here, but none of them gave off the same feeling as Hye Yeon.
It wasn't so much calmness as a complete lack of social ease. Even now, he seemed burdened by the gazes of others, looking down and blushing faintly as he tried not to meet anyone's eyes.
"…May we begin?"
"Eh? Ah… yes. Ah, ah… Amitabha. Y-yes, p-please do!"
"…."
Without realizing it, Jo Geol shook his head.
He's someone Qingming acknowledged as strong, so he's definitely absurdly powerful.
Qingming didn't only acknowledge this one as a talent, but whenever he spoke of Hye Yeon, his tone was plainly different.
That meant this fellow was the strongest person in this tournament, aside from Qingming himself. And yet he looked less like a fierce martial artist than someone painfully shy.
Jo Geol took a small breath and drew his sword, pointing it forward.
No matter how strong my opponent is, that has nothing to do with me.
If he could control his own sword perfectly, then it didn't matter who stood across from him — he could win.
"Then here I come! Taaaaaah!"
Jo Geol shouted and surged forward.
His opponent was strong. But right now, that opponent was clearly stiff with nerves.
Catching an enemy's mistake was also part of a swordsman's duty!
Before his opponent could grow accustomed to the situation, he would seize the initiative first…!
Meanwhile, as Jo Geol charged with rising momentum, a flash of panic crossed Hye Yeon's face. Then, almost reflexively, he thrust out his right hand in a hurry.
That clumsy one-fist strike… huh?
Wooooong!
Hye Yeon's body seemed to turn golden with Buddhist scripture, and then the arena was filled with a vibration like the beating wings of thousands of bees at once.
Before long, a golden fist aura the size of a human body burst out explosively.
"Huh?"
KWA-AAAAAAANG!
Like water bursting through a hole in a massive dam, the golden qi packed with savage force shot across the arena. It sailed over the heads of the spectators and slammed straight into a distant Shaolin hall.
KWA-AAAAAAANG!
The monks were all left speechless.
"Th-that…"
RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!
The hall was collapsing.
No, "collapsing" was too gentle a word for it.
The vortex within the fist aura was literally sucking the hall inward.
The building tore itself to shreds, drew itself together toward the center, and then, with a sound like a bomb exploding, scattered in all directions.
ROAR-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!
The hall fell apart in an instant.
With a single strike.
Just one strike.
"…."
Jo Geol, staring at the scene with his mouth half open, began to tremble all over.
What if that had hit me?
Cold sweat beaded and ran down his back. His face gone paper-white, he slowly turned his head. Hye Yeon was looking at him with an embarrassed expression.
"A-are you all right? I-I got too flustered and…"
Oh. You got flustered and almost turned a person into dust.
Wow…
Re...ally…
A pleased smile spread across Jo Geol's face.
Save me!
There was another monster standing right in front of him.