Mount Hua Walks Its Own Path (4)
"Forfeit?"
"...You’re forfeiting? Here?"
The sect leaders of the Gupae and the Odaesega were all on their feet before they knew it. They stared at the sparring platform in dumbfounded silence.
W-what on earth...?
Good heavens... there’s being shameless, and then there’s this.
Forfeit?
This was unprecedented.
No matter how far back they searched their memories, they had never once heard of a finalist in a tournament of this stature simply forfeiting the match.
Isn’t it basic common sense to somehow limp through the final even if your arm is severed and your leg is broken?
And yet he was forfeiting?
Even after everything had already been won?
Even the sect leaders, men who had weathered every storm the jianghu could throw at them, could not make sense of the scene unfolding before their eyes.
"Th-then what happens now?"
At one man’s question, everyone’s gaze reflexively turned to Heo Do-jin-in. With Beop Jeong absent, the Wudang Sect Leader was the one representing all the sect leaders here.
Heo Do-jin-in looked from the leaders to Chung Myung and gave a dry, helpless laugh.
"What else would happen? Hye Yeon is the winner."
"...But anyone can see..."
"Then what would you have me do? He forfeited before the winner was declared."
He made a helpless gesture.
"Should I try to persuade everyone by saying, 'No, actually, you won'?"
"Hah..."
The others exchanged quick glances.
"But will the spectators accept that?"
"Of course not."
"Then..."
No further objections or questions followed.
It wasn’t because they were stupid.
They simply couldn’t bear this absurdity without asking for the opinions of those around them.
In the end, the only thing that was clear was this:
...What an utter disgrace.
Shaolin’s authority is going to plummet straight into the dirt.
It was disgrace enough to lose the final match at a tournament they themselves had hosted. If it had been another sect, they might still have salvaged some face, but Shaolin was the host. Even coming in second place was enough to wound its prestige.
And now the man who had been all but certain to win simply turned his back on the authority Shaolin had offered him and walked away?
It was no different from dumping a bucket of rotten manure over Shaolin’s face.
Heo Do-jin-in could not hide the dazed expression on his face as he looked at Chung Myung.
Has there ever been anyone who shamed Shaolin this greatly?
No matter how far back he searched his memory, nothing came to mind.
What made it even more stupefying was that the one who had driven Shaolin’s dignity into the abyss was not Wudang, nor even the Demonic Sect, but merely a young disciple from Mount Hua.
"Hahahahahahahahahaha!"
At that moment, a tremendous laugh rang out from the side.
Heo Do-jin-in turned toward it and frowned.
Tang Gun-ak?
Of all people, Tang Gun-ak, the Lord of the Sichuan Tang Family, was clutching his stomach and laughing so hard it looked as if he might cry.
Heo Do-jin-in’s face twisted faintly.
Tang Gun-ak was known as a heavy, composed man. Yet now he was laughing like a child, shoulders shaking, tears practically ready to spill from his eyes.
"Ah. Ah... I’m sorry. Hahaha."
He wiped at the corners of his eyes and slowly rose to his feet.
"Shaolin aside, watching the sect leaders around here look so lost is just too funny."
"...Uhm."
"Ahem!"
The sect leaders all coughed and looked away.
There was steel hidden in Tang Gun-ak’s words.
Shaolin had been disgraced, yes. But was it only Shaolin’s disgrace?
As long as the Gupae had accepted Shaolin as their leader and shared in its name and prestige, this was a disgrace for the Gupae as a whole—and beyond that, for the Odaesega as well.
Wasn’t that why they were standing on this platform in the first place?
To climb onto this dais was to declare that they were lending their authority to the tournament.
In the end, right here and now, the authority of the Gupae and the Odaesega—authority that had guarded the order of the world for so many years—had been denied.
By that young disciple of Mount Hua.
As they grasped the reality of Tang Gun-ak’s words, the others turned to Mount Hua with expressions of anger mixed with embarrassment. Tang Gun-ak suddenly turned away. There was no need to look at the others’ reactions any longer.
It will begin.
To them, Chung Myung’s words must have sounded like nothing more than a gifted youth’s caprice. But Tang Gun-ak knew better. That boy was not the sort to move without a plan.
Had he not already been truly astonished by Chung Myung’s discernment before? Beneath that reckless temper, beneath the way he seemed to swing his sword first and think later, there lurked an insight so deep that Tang Gun-ak himself could not hope to match it.
Tsk.
Mount Hua would no longer remain merely in Shaanxi. If Mount Hua had chosen to walk a path different from the nine sects, then the world would surely tremble. Could those gathered here really endure the chaos of the turbulent age that was coming?
That alone was already fascinating to Tang Gun-ak.
Of course, the Tang Family will have to prepare as well.
He looked quietly at Chung Myung standing before his fellow disciples.
For the new order that Mount Hua Divine Dragon is going to create.
His eyes settled low and deep.
"..."
Baek Cheon stared blankly at Chung Myung.
"You..."
"Hm?"
"Ha..."
He opened and closed his mouth several times as if trying to say something, but in the end he shut it and shook his head.
"No..."
"Move. This isn’t the time for a martial uncle to step forward."
"Huh?"
Chung Myung casually shoved Baek Cheon aside. Then he walked toward Hyun Jong, the only one among Mount Hua’s disciples still seated.
Step. Step.
He stopped before Hyun Jong and scratched the back of his head once. Then he bowed deeply, sharply.
"Sorry for acting on my own!"
"..."
He raised his head again just a little, and the grin on his face was full of mischief.
"I’ll take my punishment. Just don’t lock me in the confinement cave. I’m sick to death of fasting pills."
Hyun Jong looked at him quietly for a moment, then spoke.
"Chung Myung."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
"Did you act according to your heart?"
Chung Myung did not answer immediately. He straightened his back and glanced up at the sky.
According to his heart...?
"Yes, Sect Leader."
A gentle tone slipped from Chung Myung’s mouth. Only then did Hyun Jong smile with boundless benevolence and nod.
"Good. Then that is enough."
Then he slowly rose and patted Chung Myung’s shoulder.
At that affectionate touch, the light in Chung Myung’s eyes, which had still held a trace of mischief, turned serious. Hyun Jong said,
"I do not believe for a moment that you would do something without thought."
"..."
"So there is no need to explain. Did I not tell you? Your will is Mount Hua’s will."
"Sect Leader..."
"Well done."
Hyun Jong turned his gaze away.
The sect leaders and the spectators still seemed unable to recover from their shock. Their mouths hung open as they stared at Mount Hua in stunned silence.
Shaolin’s side was even worse. The other disciples were wandering about in confusion, and Hye Yeon was sitting on the sparring platform itself, his mind apparently gone entirely blank.
Hyun Jong looked back at Chung Myung and said,
"Chung Myung. You have clearly shown them Mount Hua’s sword. That is enough."
Chung Myung scratched his head with a crooked smile.
"That’s right. Hehe."
Seeing that smile, Hyun Jong’s own heart eased.
He truly is extraordinary in every possible way.
However it had been done, everyone gathered here was now focused on Chung Myung alone. Even if he had won the tournament and received everyone’s cheers, it would have been hard to draw more attention than this.
At that moment, Baek Cheon, who had been listening nearby, could not hold back any longer and burst out,
"No, there should still be some limit to this, Sect Leader!"
His face looked truly incredulous, as if his blood pressure were about to explode.
Even Yoon Jong, who usually never complained to Hyun Jong, rarely raised his voice as he added,
"This isn’t the time to praise him! This is something he should be scolded for!"
"That’s right! I mean, sure, we expected him to cause trouble. Fine, honestly, even that much was within expectations! But shouldn’t there be a reasonable limit to how much trouble he causes?"
Jo Gul, too, jabbed a finger from behind Baek Cheon’s back.
Yu I-seol looked at Chung Myung in silence with a sullen expression, then shook her head.
But before Hyun Jong could answer, Hyun Young, standing behind him, sharply snapped at them.
"Shut up, you brats!"
"Elder!"
"If the Sect Leader says so, then so be it. How dare a bunch of untested pups tell the Sect Leader what he should and shouldn't do? Un Geom! Where is Un Geom!"
"Eek!"
"W-We were wrong!"
"We were too short-sighted!"
At the mention of the Baekmae Hall Leader’s name, the disciples who had been grumbling all this time all flinched and shrank back in terror.
Then, from behind Hyun Young, Chung Myung snickered.
I want to kill him.
No, really, if I could just hit him once, I’d have no regrets! Honestly!
That damn bastard.
That hopeless bastard.
And yet...
Baek Cheon, glaring at Chung Myung, let out a helpless laugh.
Yeah. Of course. That’s just the kind of bastard he is.
From the start, winning a tournament like this probably meant nothing to Chung Myung. That bastard had been satisfied with showing the world Mount Hua’s transformation and smashing the heads of the Gupae with it.
"...Though he may have smashed them a little too hard."
He glanced at Hye Yeon, who still looked as if his soul had left his body.
A genius.
A talent Shaolin had devoted all its effort to cultivating.
The man who had once seemed so formidable now looked painfully pitiful.
But that was only natural.
What greater humiliation could there be for a martial artist?
Baek Cheon shook his head and looked at Chung Myung.
"You demon."
"Why now?"
"...Nothing."
What was there to say?
At that moment, Hyun Jong slowly stepped forward.
"Let us return."
"Like this?"
Hyun Sang asked in surprise. Hyun Jong shrugged.
"In ordinary circumstances, we would have needed a proper ceremony, and there would have been many things to do... but."
He trailed off and casually gestured at their surroundings with his chin.
"This is not the sort of situation for any of that."
"...That is true."
"Then let us go. What reason is there to remain? Let us return."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
Hyun Jong extended a hand and lightly took Chung Myung by the nape of the neck.
"Eh?"
"Come here, Chung Myung."
"...Yes?"
He smiled warmly.
"Walk at the front."
"Ah, come on."
Chung Myung shook his head at once.
"The sect leader should stand at the head of the sect. I’ll follow behind."
"Then let us stand together."
"...Huh?"
Hyun Jong patted his shoulder twice.
"You have earned that right. No, you must."
Chung Myung was genuinely startled. He had never once imagined himself standing beside the sect leader. He twitched and tried to step back, but the instant he did, something touched his back.
"Hm?"
Turning around, he saw Baek Cheon and the others holding out their hands to stop him from retreating.
"Go on."
"Stand in front."
"You’re not backing out."
"..."
Those bastards?
He tried to cow them with his eyes, but they stared back with even greater resolve. Clearly, they had no intention of giving ground.
In the end, Chung Myung let out a long sigh and stepped forward to stand at Hyun Jong’s side. The elders lined up behind them, and the remaining disciples of Mount Hua formed ranks.
"Let us go."
Hyun Jong took the first step.
And the disciples of Mount Hua began to walk with him.
On both sides of the route out of the tournament grounds, the crowd stood packed tightly together.
When they had come in, Mount Hua had been greeted with cheers.
But now everyone looked stunned, as if they had witnessed something uncanny.
The Mount Hua disciples all found themselves, without quite knowing why, lifting the corners of their mouths a little.
It didn’t feel bad at all to see those faces, those reactions. If anything, it felt a little exhilarating.
As they kept moving forward with steady, forceful steps, it happened.
"Stop!"
Every Mount Hua disciple turned at once.
"Cough!"
"Bangjang!"
"You mustn’t overexert yourself!"
"Let go of me!"
Shaolin’s Bangjang, Beop Jeong, who had earlier collapsed as if the sky had fallen, was now glaring in their direction with furious eyes. None of his usual calm remained.
His pale face, along with the blood staining his beard and front robes, made plain just how enraged he had been.
"You mean to leave like this?"
"..."
Hyun Jong answered with a shrug.
"Then what else would you have us do, Bangjang?"
"How... how dare you!"
Beop Jeong’s lips trembled as he roared.
"Do you even know what you are doing right now? This is a slight not only to Shaolin, but to the entire world!"
"..."
"Mount Hua’s arrogance reaches the heavens! Do you truly think such an act will be tolerated?"
Hyun Jong quietly turned his gaze to Chung Myung. As though he had been waiting for that moment, Chung Myung shrugged and said,
"Why should we need anyone’s tolerance?"
"...What did you say?"
His eyes, as he looked at Beop Jeong, were utterly indifferent.
"You seem to be under a misunderstanding, but this isn’t a matter of whether we’re tolerated or not. The arrogant ones here aren’t us—it’s Shaolin. You’re the ones acting like Shaolin’s permission is needed for even this little thing, aren’t you?"
"You...!"
Seeing the old monk fail to continue, Chung Myung grinned and waved a hand dismissively.
"Take care of yourself. You look like your health’s bad anyway, what with suddenly coughing up blood like that. I think keeping your health in check should come before lecturing other people. If I’ve got any leftover wild ginseng at Mount Hua, I’ll send you some."
"You, you despicable—cough!"
Beop Jeong coughed up blood again and hunched over.
"Bangjang!"
"What are you doing? Get the Bangjang to the infirmary at once!"
Just how furious had he become to suffer internal injuries from it?
Chung Myung shook his head.
"Maybe not as a martial artist, but as a monk, he’s really disqualified."
At that, Baek Cheon muttered very softly,
"...Have you ever considered that your own mouth is the problem?"
"Not even a little?"
"...I see."
Baek Cheon accepted that with a nod. Hyun Jong smiled wryly.
With this, there was no longer any way to truly mend things with Shaolin.
It would be a lie to say he was not worried.
But...
Hyun Jong instead straightened his chest.
He did not want to tell those trying to walk the right path to go look at reality.
I am the Sect Leader of Mount Hua.
What an adult should do is help children walk the right path. If the blade of reality came down on Mount Hua, he would take that blade himself, along with Mount Hua’s elders.
Until these children grew upright and one day became Mount Hua’s great towering trees.
"Let us go."
"Yes, Sect Leader!"
Everyone’s shoulders and backs straightened. Each step they took was full of strength and pride.
Everyone knew.
This was the moment to leave behind a proud back.
The crowd could not look away from them as they exited the arena without the slightest trace of lingering regret.
And then, at some point—
Clap. Clap-clap-clap. Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap!
When one person began clapping, then another, and then another, hands slowly rose throughout the crowd.
Before long, the applause swelled until it became a great roar that swept over the whole Shaolin grounds.
This was different from the cheers before.
It was not mere support, but recognition.
And even so, the disciples of Mount Hua did not look back.
Their shoulders lifted higher.
Their fists clenched tight.
Their faces burned with pride.
From this day on, everyone in the world would know.
They would know that the Plum Blossom Sword Sect, Mount Hua Sect, had returned to the jianghu.
"Oh, right! I need to collect my betting money before I go. Wait, can’t I just duck over there for a second?"
"..."
"Sect Leader?"
"...You damn little mudskipper!"
They returned in a somewhat... unusual fashion, perhaps.
But the Mount Hua Sect—
The Plum Blossom Sword Sect, Mount Hua Sect, whose history stretched back hundreds of years, had at last proclaimed its return to the world.