Where Is That Beggar Bastard Now? (5)
Hyun Jong found his mouth hanging open before he even realized it, his gaze fixed on the martial arena.
"Uh...."
What was that?
It felt as if his mind had stopped turning properly. Something was trying to take shape in his head, but nothing clear would come out of it.
It was Tang Gun-ak, sitting beside him, who finally unraveled the tangled mess in his thoughts.
"Abbot. Could that be the Arhat Fist?"
At Tang Gun-ak’s question, Beop Jeong smiled faintly.
"Lord Tang’s insight is better than I expected. That is correct."
Tang Gun-ak let out a low breath, stunned.
"One of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts."
Before this, Hye Yeon had already used the Hundred-Step Divine Fist, one of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts. That meant he had now employed two of the seventy-two legendary techniques, which were difficult enough for a person to master even one of in a lifetime.
And Tang Gun-ak was not the only one who was shocked.
"The Arhat Fist...."
The other sect leaders stared at Hye Yeon with wide eyes.
At that age, being able to use two of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts was no longer merely a matter of talent.
Shaolin was, beyond all doubt, the greatest orthodox sect in the world.
Gifted youths from every corner of the land came knocking on Shaolin’s mountain gate in hopes of becoming disciples.
Even those geniuses gathered from across the world had to devote their entire lives to mastering a single one of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts. That was how profound and difficult they were.
And yet he had understood and learned two of them at that age? It was absurd.
Wudang’s sect leader, Heo Do-jin-in, hardened his expression and asked Beop Jeong, "Abbot. If it is not impolite, may I ask how many of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts Hye Yeon has learned?"
Beop Jeong smiled and answered, "There is no impropriety in saying so. At present, I believe he knows about twelve."
....
An icy silence fell over the platform.
Even the leaders of the Nine Sects and One Gang, the forces that guided the world, were left speechless by Beop Jeong’s words.
'Twelve?'
'Good heavens....'
In that chilling atmosphere, Heo Do-jin-in found himself biting his lower lip hard.
This damn hypocrite.
A man who served as Shaolin’s abbot ought naturally to have a serpent in his belly. But looking at the way things stood, it was obvious there wasn’t just a serpent in there—there was a flood dragon.
Twelve.
He had heard that even the man once called Shaolin’s greatest had not mastered as many as fifteen of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts.
Of course, there would be differences in proficiency and realm, but the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts were, from the start, the most difficult martial arts in the world.
To understand and learn twelve of them, even superficially, at that age was almost impossible for a human being.
A monster.
That was less a genius than a monster.
So that was why he had that confidence that he would never lose.
There had been one thing Heo Do-jin-in could never understand.
It was the fact that Beop Jeong had been letting Mount Hua run wild without interference.
From the beginning, this Heavenly Martial Arts Tournament had clearly been prepared for Shaolin. In Shaolin’s eyes, the other sects were probably nothing more than extras whose only role was to make Shaolin shine brighter.
And yet once the tournament truly began, the admiring eyes that should have been directed at Shaolin were completely stolen by Mount Hua.
Even so, Beop Jeong had not taken any action and had simply let the situation unfold. That carefree manner had never made sense—until now.
So this was his plan.
And Heo Do-jin-in was not the only one who had realized it.
Tang Gun-ak looked at Beop Jeong with lowered eyes.
Wait until Mount Hua is riding high, then bring them crashing down and take all of that fame for yourself?
If the tournament ended in a predictable Shaolin victory, nothing would catch fire.
But what if Chung Myung reached the final and drew the expectations of the entire world, only to be struck down by Hye Yeon?
Then people would once again feel Shaolin’s strength in their bones, and they would be forced to acknowledge that Shaolin was the one truly fit to lead the world.
After all, every hero needed a proper villain.
Beop Jeong still wore his benevolent smile.
Thinking about what hid behind that smile sent a chill through Tang Gun-ak’s spine.
Meanwhile, Beop Jeong felt the eyes of the crowd on him and lifted the corners of his mouth a little higher.
They’re probably getting goosebumps.
He would expect so.
He had felt exactly the same when he first understood Hye Yeon’s talent.
There were countless people in the world who could be called prodigies, countless others who could be called geniuses, but among them all, only Hye Yeon truly deserved to be called one blessed by heaven.
A true genius was a being beyond the comprehension of ordinary men. The moment you thought you understood them, they were already one step ahead; the moment you thought you had deciphered them, they became even more complex.
Beop Jeong believed Hye Yeon was precisely that kind of person. If it was Hye Yeon, he would have no trouble ushering in a new golden age for Shaolin, the thousand-year temple.
Only one thing.
Beop Jeong looked at him with a faint trace of regret.
In his eyes, Hye Yeon was too perfect a Buddhist monk.
He did not know how to wound others, nor did he try to oppress them. His timid nature, something innate from birth, refused to change no matter how much martial arts he learned or how strong he became.
That was why Beop Jeong had hoped for one more thing in this tournament.
If that child could gain even a spark of fighting spirit, he might change Shaolin’s history.
A heavy gleam settled in Beop Jeong’s eyes as he watched Hye Yeon.
Jo Gul slowly looked back and forth between the shattered pavilion and Hye Yeon.
Hye Yeon seemed flustered by the fact that he had just destroyed a building, and his face had turned bright red.
Watching even the top of Hye Yeon’s head flush scarlet brought a strange ache of sorrow over Jo Gul.
Don’t you dare throw out a fist strike with that innocent face, you bastard!
This was irritating in a different way from Chung Myung.
Chung Myung, who smiled like a lunatic while hurling out impossible sword strikes, and Hye Yeon, who looked embarrassed while blasting apart a pavilion with a fist technique—they were both equally inhuman.
And yet the feeling was unmistakably different.
Jo Gul slowly turned his head.
The Mount Hua disciples were looking at him and grinning ear to ear.
"He’s dead, right?"
"He has to die."
"No way he survives that."
"Yoon Jong! Hurry up and light the incense!"
Jo Gul squeezed his eyes shut.
Those damned bastards.
Their junior disciple was in danger, and instead of worrying about him, they were practically throwing a festival. How could anyone call this a Daoist sect?
And on top of that....
"Hehehehehehe."
Among the laughing disciples, one person looked especially delighted.
Yoon Jong sahyung....
The moment Jo Gul met that smile, his whole body shuddered.
I’d rather die than forfeit.
If he had known this would happen, he would’ve only teased them half as much....
He had spent days mocking them, saying it was humiliating for a Mount Hua disciple to forfeit, so if he backed out now he would be headed straight for hell.
"Better to hurt than to die. Damn it."
With his retreat route gone, Jo Gul finally lifted his sword again and pointed it at Hye Yeon.
"A-Amitabha. Are you all right, benefactor?"
"...."
Despite having a sword aimed at him, Hye Yeon looked less tense than concerned for Jo Gul.
"S-sorry. The Abbot said I could do my best from this round onward, so I may have... failed to control my strength a little...."
At that timid mutter, Jo Gul’s head tilted sharply.
"From this round onward?"
Hye Yeon slowly nodded.
"M-Mount Hua’s disciples are all people who should never be underestimated, so I was told to n-not let my guard down and to do my best."
Jo Gul smiled faintly.
Does this guy really mean to kill me?
If this bastard really went all out without a trace of hesitation, what else was left but to get beaten to death?
But strangely enough, it also made him feel oddly pleased.
In other words, the abbot of Shaolin had acknowledged Mount Hua as a dangerous opponent.
Jo Gul let out a low breath.
Did he think he could win?
Honestly, no idea.
But none of that mattered.
His grip tightened around the sword hilt. No matter how strong the opponent was, he couldn’t simply turn and walk away without fighting.
At the very least, he had to find out just how strong this guy was.
As the sharp edge of calm returned to Jo Gul’s eyes, Hye Yeon slowly let the flushed color fade from his face as well.
Then he naturally lowered one hand, while the other rose neatly in front of his chest.
One-handed salute.
In Buddhism, joining both hands in greeting was standard, but Shaolin alone offered its respect with one hand. It was a tribute to Huike, Shaolin’s Second Patriarch, who had cut off his own arm to seek the Dharma.
But the one-handed salute Hye Yeon held now was not for politeness.
The stance from which the Arhat Fist, the foundation of all Shaolin martial arts, began was this very salute.
Jo Gul’s eyes sharpened at the sight.
Even with martial arts powerful enough to shake the world, he still starts from the basics.
The more he looked, the more Hye Yeon resembled Chung Myung.
Hadn’t Chung Myung endlessly stressed that the foundation of all Mount Hua martial arts was the Six Harmonies?
Jo Gul drew in a deep breath.
Then, in an instant, he shot toward Hye Yeon.
First strike, first victory!
To be honest, his swordsmanship was a little unusual even within Mount Hua.
While the others struggled to bloom their own plum blossoms, Jo Gul simply wasn’t made for that kind of sword play by nature.
Fast, and strong.
A practical sword style that struck at the enemy with speed and force.
No matter how hard he tried, he always ended up here again.
Whoosh!
Jo Gul’s sword sliced through the air like a streak of light, plunging toward Hye Yeon’s throat.
But even with his eyes half-open, Hye Yeon did not so much as waver at the sight of that terrifying speed.
His open palm moved with simple economy, then slapped lightly against the flat of Jo Gul’s sword.
Claaang!
With a clear sound like a bell being struck, Jo Gul’s sword vibrated and bounced away.
"Ghk!"
Jo Gul took a step back and, without meaning to, let out a groan.
What the hell was that?
He had merely struck the sword lightly with his hand. But the shock that ran through Jo Gul’s wrist felt like he had been smashed by a colossal boulder weighing ten thousand pounds.
Not just his wrist, either—his forearm, and even his shoulder, felt like they had been pressed down at once.
After barely swallowing his shock, Jo Gul retreated and tried to reset his stance.
But Hye Yeon did not give him the chance.
Thud!
Hye Yeon stamped the ground.
Fresh and heavy all at once.
Slipping through the opening created by the deflected sword, Hye Yeon lightly knocked aside Jo Gul’s reflexive counter with his elbow. Then, twisting his body as if turning in a spin, he drove his shoulder into Jo Gul’s chest.
BOOOOOOM!
The sound echoed like a battering ram slamming into a giant gate. At the same moment, Jo Gul’s body flew through the air like a pebble thrown by a child.
"Gul!"
"Damn it, what the hell!"
The Mount Hua disciples screamed in alarm.
A hand suddenly pressed down hard on Baek Cheon’s shoulder as he reflexively tried to leap forward.
"Chung Myung?"
"Wait."
Chung Myung said flatly,
"I don’t know how good that guy is, but he won’t lose in grit."
"...."
As if to prove it, Jo Gul twisted his body in midair. Then, like a bird folding its wings, he began to fall.
Thump!
Jo Gul landed narrowly on the martial arena, blood bursting from his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot with strain.
What the hell is this guy?
The hairs on his body stood on end.
He had known from the start that he was outmatched. But this wasn’t just a matter of being weaker.
If he had been swept away by overwhelming internal energy and terrifying force, he could have accepted that. But what crushed him now was the precision of the most basic techniques.
It felt as though everything he had worked for had been denied outright.
"Pah!"
Jo Gul spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
"That’s why people call them geniuses."
Grinding his teeth, he let out a killing aura.
In a single exchange, he had clearly understood the gap between them. For most martial artists, that alone would have been enough to crush their fighting spirit. They would have seen a wall they could never breach, no matter what they tried.
But Jo Gul only raised his own momentum higher.
"I know you’re insanely strong. But...."
Then he clenched his teeth and charged Hye Yeon again.
"I’m used to fighting people like that!"
Fwoooosh!
A sound like a whip cracking came from the tip of his sword. It was the slicing cry of the blade tearing through the air.
The sword, brimming with fierce killing intent, flew toward Hye Yeon.
Thud!
Hye Yeon’s fist, packed with fist-force, once again knocked the sword aside.
But Jo Gul used the force of that deflection to spin his body around and swing again.
Whoosh!
In an instant, Jo Gul’s sword multiplied into fifteen blades, storming down as if it meant to shred Hye Yeon’s entire body.
Terrifying.
The sword that had aimed for his head suddenly changed direction to strike the shoulder; the one aimed for his waist curved sharply and stabbed toward the stomach.
Every single strike was filled with killing intent meant to inflict a fatal wound. It was closer to the ways of the unorthodox schools than the righteous ones.
Mount Hua’s sword was said to be the strangest and most practical of all orthodox sword styles in the world. Among Mount Hua’s disciples, Jo Gul was the one who embodied that nature most clearly.
However.
Thud!
Even after seeing that storm of sword attacks, Hye Yeon instead stepped forward.
His right hand turned snow-white, then began to extend again and again.
One on top of another. Then another atop that.
In the blink of an eye, dozens—no, hundreds—of palm shadows formed a wall.
"Thousand Buddha Hands...."
A groan slipped from Chung Myung’s mouth.
Clang! Clang-clang! Clang!
Jo Gul’s sword was completely blocked by the great curtain made of white palm shadows.
Shock flared in Jo Gul’s eyes.
What the hell....?
At that moment.
Bang!
Suddenly, a long leg shot out from within the sea of palm shadows and kicked Jo Gul in the lower stomach.
"Kuhk!"
He hurriedly dropped his sword to block, but there was no way he could absorb all of that force.
Jo Gul’s body was shoved backward in a sliding rush.
As the pain in his lower abdomen made him grit his teeth, he instinctively sensed something and snapped his head up.
And then he saw it.
Shaolin’s basic stance.
Hye Yeon had spread his legs wide and straightened his back, one hand held at his side and the other gathered before his chest in that one-handed salute.
"Taaaah!"
Then the hand at his waist shot out like lightning, unleashing a single fist into the air.
Blazing golden light.
A vast and overwhelming air filled Jo Gul’s vision at once.
D-damn it....
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The divine fist of Shaolin, the Hundred-Step Divine Fist, recreated through Hye Yeon’s hand, swept away Jo Gul’s body before he could even settle his posture.
Engulfed by the fist force pouring over him like a tidal wave, Jo Gul was hurled through the air.
"Agh!"
"No!"
Just as everyone cried out in shock—
Whoooooosh!
Someone shot up into the air and caught Jo Gul’s flying body, then descended back to the ground.
Thump.
He who held the unconscious Jo Gul in his arms lowered his gaze for a moment.
It was Chung Myung.
He looked down at his fallen senior disciple in silence, then raised his head.
And he glared at Hye Yeon, who was standing awkwardly on the martial arena.
"...."
Meeting that cold stare, Hye Yeon awkwardly lowered his head a little.
But Chung Myung’s eyes stayed on him without so much as a flicker.
Then, when Chung Myung shifted his gaze, he saw Beop Jeong, the abbot of Shaolin, smiling on the platform.
"...Smiling?"
A spark flew into Chung Myung’s eyes.
"Yeah. So even if you die, you’re still Shaolin, huh?"
Don’t worry.
I’ll smash that smug head of yours soon enough.