Shaolin or Whatever (4)
Dang Soso shot up onto the martial arts platform like the wind.
"Sago!"
Ignoring Hye Yeon as if he didn’t even exist, she rushed to Yu I-seol and caught her up in support.
"Are you all right?"
"...I’m fine."
Yu I-seol nodded weakly.
She had suffered minor injuries, but nothing severe. Still, if the standoff had continued even a little longer, she probably would have had trouble even staying conscious.
"I’ll help you."
"...Please."
Dang Soso hauled Yu I-seol to her feet. Yu I-seol wrapped an arm around her shoulder and managed a labored step.
Then—
"...Um."
From behind Yu I-seol’s back, Hye Yeon’s trembling voice came through.
Yu I-seol turned around, and Hye Yeon, his face flushed red, asked, "H-how...?"
In truth, even as he opened his mouth, Hye Yeon wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking.
Was he asking how she had managed to break through Supreme Unrivaled Might and swing her sword?
Or was he asking how she had refused to give up even while fully aware of the overwhelming gap between them?
Maybe it was both.
He knew it was a foolish question, but he had to ask.
Because he couldn’t understand it.
There was a vast difference in skill between him and Yu I-seol.
If they fought a hundred times, Hye Yeon would win all hundred, and in most of those matches, he would probably win without even taking a scratch.
The first wound might be dismissed as luck, but the second wound was one he should never have suffered.
Yet that swordswoman from Mount Hua, Yu I-seol, had shattered his common sense and left a wound on him.
If Yu I-seol had just a little more strength left, that sword would have left him with a deep, grievous injury.
"...How?"
Yu I-seol silently stared at Hye Yeon. After a short pause, her pale lips parted.
"Because I had to reach him."
"...."
"That’s all."
Hye Yeon simply stared at her, dumbfounded.
Yu I-seol, as if deciding that wasn’t enough, turned back once more before descending from the platform.
"Aren’t you the same?"
Hye Yeon’s face stiffened.
Without another word, Yu I-seol turned away with Dang Soso’s support.
The disciples waiting below the platform crowded around her at once.
"Samae! Are you all right?"
"Sago!"
"Your ankle! It looked like you were injured earlier!"
Yu I-seol merely nodded with her usual calm, expressionless face.
"I’m fine."
Baek Cheon said with a hardened expression, "Still, injuries need to be treated right away. Go to the Medical Hall at once. Soso, you take your sago there."
"Yes! Sasuk!"
Dang Soso nodded vigorously. Then Baek Cheon hesitated a little before speaking again.
"And... "
He cleared his throat softly.
"...Well done."
A small smile bloomed at the corners of Yu I-seol’s mouth. Seeing that rare expression, everyone nodded along in silence.
"I’ll be back soon."
"All right."
Dang Soso supported Yu I-seol carefully as she headed toward the Medical Hall. And just in case, Baek Sang followed behind them as well.
Hmm.
Baek Cheon’s eyes, fixed on Yu I-seol’s retreating back, grew heavy.
She swung one more time after that.
Could he have done it himself?
Well. He couldn’t say for certain.
This wasn’t, in the end, a matter of martial prowess. It was a matter of will.
It was a question of whether, even with the whole body crushed and consciousness growing faint, one could still refuse to let go of the desire to win.
"Did you all see that?"
"Yes, Sasuk."
"We saw it clearly."
The other disciples, too, seemed to have felt something; they nodded heavily one after another.
Hye Yeon’s skill had been overwhelming. If they had faced him, they would have lost all spirit before the fight had even begun.
But Yu I-seol had ultimately forced her way through that crushing difference in skill and carved a single sword wound into Hye Yeon’s body.
"In the end..."
At Chung Myung’s voice from behind them, everyone whipped around.
"The difference between growth and stagnation is whether you can cross that one tiny line or not."
"...One tiny line?"
Chung Myung nodded.
"Giving everything you’ve got is something anybody can do. What matters more is whether you can swing one more time in the absolute limit, when you’ve squeezed every last drop out of your body."
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"The one who can do that gets stronger. Sago will be stronger because of today’s match."
Chung Myung swept his gaze across them.
"Can you all do that?"
"...."
At his words, the Baek generation disciples all fell silent.
"When you hear it, it sounds easy. It seems like something you can do with sheer willpower. But people who have never driven themselves to the limit in daily training can’t push past themselves at the final moment. She can do it because she’s Sago. That woman always pushes herself to the edge."
Baek Cheon nodded.
"I understand what you mean."
"This tournament’s basically over now."
Chung Myung said indifferently, "What’s left is what you, Sasuk, and the others gained from it. If you don’t use what you learned here to push yourselves further, there’s a limit to even how far I can drag you."
The Mount Hua disciples’ expressions turned solemn.
Seeing those looks, Chung Myung curled the corner of his mouth into a grin.
Sago really did us a solid.
Up until now, Mount Hua’s training had amounted to nothing more than Chung Myung yanking them along by the leash.
But to advance into the true realm of ascent, one had to cultivate oneself through one’s own effort. They had already climbed as far as they could through physical labor alone.
That single sword Yu I-seol had unleashed against Hye Yeon would have shown Mount Hua’s disciples many things.
It would’ve been a lot more fun if it had gone just a little deeper.
But asking for that much was greedy.
In truth, the fact that Yu I-seol had broken through Hye Yeon’s Supreme Unrivaled Might and wounded him at all was nothing short of a miracle. Chung Myung hadn’t expected even that much. Showing them that she didn’t give up would have been enough.
"How’s that, you bald little monks!"
Chung Myung snapped his head around to glare up at the raised platform.
And there he was.
Beop Jeong was looking this way with a thoroughly disgruntled face. Just seeing that expression made it feel like years of accumulated indigestion had finally gone down.
Beop Jeong, too, had probably never imagined a situation where Yu I-seol, not Chung Myung, would be the one to wound Hye Yeon.
"Kekekekek. Your head’s gone all shiny, hasn’t it?"
"Chung Myung."
"Hehehehe!"
"Chung Myung."
"What?"
"...Go up. You’re next."
"Huh?"
Oh, right.
Chung Myung wore an awkward look as he rummaged for his sword.
He had been so focused on Yu I-seol’s match that he’d forgotten he still had one bout left.
Tch. What a mistake.
Still, he had underestimated his opponent a little too much. The man had made it all the way to the fourth round, after all. That wasn’t a good attitude for a martial artist.
"Who was my opponent again?"
"Beats me?"
"Wasn’t it someone named Moyong something?"
"Who was it again?"
Watching the Mount Hua disciples rack their brains, Chung Myung smiled with satisfied amusement.
How are they all this hopelessly stupid?
I’m supposed to trust these idiots? Huh? These clowns?
"Just get up there already!"
"Ugh."
Chung Myung shook his head and climbed onto the platform.
The atmosphere feels a little different.
Looking around, he clicked his tongue. The surrounding area was in an uproar.
Well, of course it was.
The others would have interpreted the bout just now very differently from the Mount Hua disciples.
Those who recognized that Hye Yeon’s martial arts were Supreme Unrivaled Might were probably too shocked to think straight right now.
Supreme Unrivaled Might.
One of the most obscure and difficult arts among Shaolin’s Seventy-Two Supreme Arts, so rare that even across Shaolin’s entire history, only a handful had ever mastered it.
Having seen such an art right before their eyes, there was no way they could focus on the next bout. Just witnessing a technique that had existed only in legend would be enough to leave anyone breathless with excitement.
From Chung Myung’s perspective, it would have been nice if they paid a little more attention to Yu I-seol, who had broken through that Supreme Unrivaled Might and wounded Hye Yeon’s body, but in the end, all that would remain was the result that Hye Yeon had defeated a Mount Hua swordsman with that very technique.
I don’t like this.
By now, everyone gathered here was probably thinking that Hye Yeon would win the tournament in the end.
How many of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts had he already shown?
On top of that, he had even displayed Supreme Unrivaled Might, an art that could be counted among the upper tier of those seventy-two. Objectively speaking, it would be strange if he didn’t win.
"So that’s how it is?"
A grin slowly spread across Chung Myung’s lips.
"I’m from the Moyong Family. My name is Moyong Myung."
"Huh?"
His opponent, who had somehow already climbed to the other side, barked out the words in a slightly irritated tone.
He must have noticed that Chung Myung wasn’t paying attention to him at all.
"Ah. Sorry, sorry."
That wasn’t polite either.
Chung Myung had long since earned a reputation for having sold his manners for scrap and not leaving a single shred behind, but at least in front of other people, he knew how to keep up appearances.
"I’m Chung Myung of Mount Hua."
Shrring.
Chung Myung drew his sword. Then he let it hang loosely at his side.
At the same time, Moyong Myung drew his own sword and looked back at him. Unmistakable tension showed in his eyes.
But even after both men had drawn their swords, the crowd still couldn’t focus on the bout.
Most of the gazes were directed not at the platform, but toward Shaolin’s side.
"Hmm."
Chung Myung’s lips curled into a sly grin.
Then he glanced toward Beop Jeong on the raised platform. Rarely, there was a stiffening in his expression, and Chung Myung could sense a faint trace of displeasure leaking through.
Greedy little bald monk.
Hye Yeon attracting everyone’s attention was probably exactly what Beop Jeong had wanted, but he would not be pleased that the boy had been injured in the process.
He must have wanted an even more overwhelming victory.
Chung Myung snorted softly.
Fine, then.
Hye Yeon being the center of the monks’ attention wasn’t a bad thing for him, either. And everyone assuming Shaolin would win wasn’t bad either.
"Be ready!"
Moyong Myung shouted loudly.
Then he charged toward Chung Myung at great speed and slashed his sword down.
Whoosh!
There was no way anyone who had reached the fourth round was weak.
Moyong Myung’s sword, filled with pure white sword energy, instantly flooded the platform. It wasn’t as dazzling as Yu I-seol’s technique, but in terms of momentum and speed, it was actually superior in some respects.
The sound of the sword cutting through the wind rang out sharply, and white sword energy swept over Chung Myung’s entire body.
And then, in that instant—
"Too slow."
Chung Myung charged straight toward the sword energy pouring down on him.
Swoosh.
His body seemed to blur, and then he slipped through the crashing wave of sword light and passed Moyong Myung by.
Paang!
A brief burst of air split the space.
Faint.
So faint that unless you strained to listen, you would never have heard it.
Moyong Myung froze in the exact posture of his swing.
Thud.
Chung Myung sheathed his sword, sliding it back into the scabbard.
At the same moment, Moyong Myung’s body collapsed to the floor.
Thump.
There wasn’t a single wound on his body, but before he even hit the ground, Moyong Myung had already lost consciousness.
The fallen Moyong Myung. The lone Chung Myung standing upright.
Cold silence filled the platform.
One strike.
It had been just one strike.
At that shocking sight, those who had been unable to focus finally turned in a panic and looked toward the platform.
"...One strike?"
"My heavens..."
This was the fourth round of the Heavenly Martial Tournament.
Then how on earth could a result like this happen?
Under the stunned gazes of everyone present, Chung Myung slowly looked up at the raised platform. More precisely, at Beop Jeong standing there.
It was plain to see the shock in Beop Jeong’s eyes, the man who always maintained his composure.
"Champion?"
As if.
Chung Myung grinned.
"Shaolin or whatever. Flipping someone’s good mood upside down is my specialty."
I’ll swallow the table you’ve set, whole.
And then I really wonder what kind of face you’ll make.
This isn’t because I have a bad personality.
—It is, though?
Ah, quit showing up only at times like this, old man!
Chuckling, Chung Myung walked down from the platform.
Beop Jeong’s lowered gaze never seemed to leave his back.
The Heavenly Martial Tournament.
That long, long competition was coming to a close with a final between Shaolin and Mount Hua.
Shaolin, the North Star of the martial world for hundreds of years.
Mount Hua, miraculously reborn after being cast out from the Nine Great Sects.
The tournament, tangled with so many threads, now had only one match left to decide everything.