Are You a Southern Edge Sect Bastard? (5)
He had not been underestimating his opponent.
Even if Gong Mun-yeon was only half a martial artist, his mindset was no less real than that of any true jianghu man. Anyone who walked the path of martial arts was not supposed to look down on their foe. When a tiger hunted a rabbit, did it not still give its all?
And after seeing the masked man’s movements as he cut down the guards, there was no room for carelessness.
And yet…
Something felt off.
Look.
Thud.
Before the fist that had been drawn all the way back could even fully shoot forward, it was stopped near the chest. By the tip of a scabbard, no less.
The moment he tried to smash the scabbard aside, it was already gone. The force he’d gathered to the limit had nowhere to go, and twisted in on itself.
"Ghk!"
The sensation of his inner energy flowing backward was unmistakable.
"Y-you—!"
He struck at the masked man with the subtlety of Hweonseon-hoe, the Rotating Leg Technique, but the masked man was already no longer there.
"You’re slow as hell."
"Huh!"
Startled by the voice from behind him, Gong Mun-yeon swung his fist back in a frenzy.
But this time, too, the result was the same.
Thud!
"Urk!"
The internal force he drew from his dantian should have surged through his waist and chest, then shot out through his arm and fist like a launched spear. But what happened if the launcher was blocked the instant it was about to fire?
Bang!
Something inside his body seemed to explode. At the same time, the area around his shoulder blade swelled sharply.
He couldn’t see it, but the muscle in his shoulder had probably torn apart.
"Tch!"
And then it happened again.
"Aaaaargh!"
He gathered every shred of power he had and kicked at the masked man. But the masked man didn’t even seem to bother dodging. He merely took one step back, as if an annoying fly had buzzed past him.
Gong Mun-yeon’s foot skimmed past the masked man’s chest. The wind pressure made the night-black robes tremble, but it didn’t touch even a hair on the man’s body.
What in the world is this?
He couldn’t make sense of it.
Was he fast?
No.
Then was he strong?
That wasn’t it either.
The masked man was by no means quick or powerful. By appearances alone, Gong Mun-yeon could have handled him ten times over.
And yet he couldn’t even get hold of the man’s hem. Like a junior disciple struggling against his master, he flailed with all his might, but none of it worked.
Look at him now.
The fully charged strike flew toward the masked man’s face. If it so much as brushed him, flesh would be ripped away and bone shattered. And yet it could not even graze him.
With nothing more than a leisurely tilt of his head, as though dodging the hand of a three-year-old, the masked man nullified the attack perfectly.
How could such a thing even be possible?
Not fast.
And yet fast.
It wasn’t the kind of overwhelming speed that made one move too quickly to see. Rather, he moved slowly, but surely, and at the perfect moment, always to the most suitable angle and the most appropriate distance.
Movements with absolutely no wasted motion.
That was the level every martial artist dreamed of. But Gong Mun-yeon, who had been forced to meet that dreamlike realm head-on, felt only despair.
He looked like a goblin.
Clearly he was entangled with a person, yet it didn’t feel as if he were fighting anyone at all. The man was right there in plain sight, and yet impossible to touch; no matter how fiercely he raged, he could not even make contact.
If only the man had moved in such a wild, spinning blur that the limits of his skill would be obvious at a glance, Gong Mun-yeon could have withdrawn and accepted the difference in their levels. But each attack missed by the width of a single sheet of paper, and that made his insides boil with frustration.
This man is a monster.
If he were merely dodging, it would not have been this nerve-racking. But that was not all there was to this man’s martial arts.
He’s reading every one of my lines of attack.
Before the fist even fully extended, the man had already occupied the space where it would be. The internal force that should have surged forward was being shackled and forced into backflow.
It was not the same as Wudang’s nengyoujeegang, the ability to turn softness against hardness. This was an astonishing harmony of speed and anticipation.
He couldn’t even begin to guess how terrifyingly strong the man really was.
It was wrong from the start.
Monsters were monsters because they were impossible to predict. If he had known Mount Hua hid a monster like this, he would never have laid a hand on Mount Hua in the first place.
And yet…
"Grrrrrngh."
The masked man, who had been casually evading Gong Mun-yeon’s attacks, suddenly clutched his waist and bent over.
"Oh, damn it all. This cursed body. My back’s going to seize up. It’s really going to seize up."
"…."
The masked man panted and slapped at his lower back.
…For a monster, he seemed a bit clumsy.
A master of that level, getting winded from movements like this?
It made no sense.
And yet it was happening.
The masked man’s chest heaved up and down without pause. The lower part of the mask was slowly darkening with every breath he exhaled. And the face revealed in the center of the mask was drenched in sweat. His back was already soaked through with the thick beads of perspiration streaming down his neck.
Anyone could see he was on the verge of collapse.
And yet he was dodging every single attack, which only made the whole situation more infuriating.
"Hngh."
The masked man straightened his back again.
"Tsk. I’d like to play with you a little longer, but I can’t. I’m running out of strength, too."
Gong Mun-yeon’s face darkened with tension.
He had sparred with this man long enough for a cup of tea to go cold, and in the end he still hadn’t managed to grab even the hem of his clothes. Gong Mun-yeon had once been confident that if he deployed all his abilities, there would be very few in Mount Hua who could stand against him.
And yet he was being toyed with by an old man he had never seen before.
"Why has someone like you never stepped forward before?"
"What’s it to you?"
Chung Myung spun his sword once and caught it again.
"Guys who only have a mouth love living with weird delusions. If you ask me something, does that mean I have to answer?"
"…."
"If anything, I’m the one who should be asking. For a tavern owner, your martial arts are awfully high-level. A man with this kind of skill is just running a tavern in Hwameum?"
"…And who says that if a man’s strong, he can’t run a tavern?"
"No one does. But if a strong tavern owner starts plotting for money, that’s a different story. With this level of skill, you could make money plenty of other ways without running a tavern. But here you are, just serving drunks and minding a wine shop, huh?"
The corner of Chung Myung’s mouth, hidden beneath the mask, twitched.
"What are you even talki—"
"Ah, forget it."
Chung Myung cut Gong Mun-yeon off.
"I know, I know. You’re not going to talk anyway. There was no conspiracy, no scheme, nothing at all. So don’t go pinning crimes on an innocent man. I’ve never taken orders from anyone, and I’m not connected to anybody. I started all of this on my own. Right?"
"…Th-that’s right."
"Exactly. That’s how it usually goes."
Chung Myung nodded vigorously.
"People always say that sort of thing. And unfortunately, the ones who say it never confess unless they’re beaten so badly they’re practically half dead. Though, to be fair, your crimes are pretty serious, but not serious enough for me to grind you into paste. I’d love to split your bones from your flesh just to hear some honest words, but then that would cause problems."
Chung Myung nodded to himself.
"All right, then. Question time. Do you know what I do in situations like this?"
"…How would I know that?"
"I beat you."
Gong Mun-yeon’s eyes widened slightly.
"Pardon?"
"I said I’ll beat you."
"…."
Chung Myung tilted his head a couple of times and walked toward Gong Mun-yeon.
"If I keep telling some bastard who’ll never talk to speak up or shut up, I’m the only one who gets pissed off. So let’s keep it simple and make a little deal. You never say a word. And I’ll keep beating you until I feel satisfied even if you don’t say a thing."
"…."
"If you change your mind halfway through and want to talk, raise your hand and say so. But you’d better think quickly. Beatenings you’ve already received can’t be refunded."
"What kind of nonsense is this!"
"Oh, yeah. Nonsense. That’s my specialty. Here I come!"
Chung Myung lunged at Gong Mun-yeon.
As Chung Myung closed the distance in an instant, Gong Mun-yeon found himself stepping back before he even realized it.
He wasn’t releasing any imposing pressure. Nor was he unleashing some astonishing ultimate technique with the sword in his hand. The masked man merely ran at him on two legs, looking as though he might collapse at any second, and yet Gong Mun-yeon could do nothing but flinch and retreat.
Of course, his retreat was still slower than Chung Myung’s charge.
Chung Myung swung his sword, scabbard and all, at Gong Mun-yeon’s left knee. Thinking it was too late to dodge, Gong Mun-yeon wrapped his arm in internal energy and blocked in front of the knee.
Crack!
And then Chung Myung’s sword came down on his shoulder.
"Augh!"
The cry burst from him of its own accord.
Shoulder?
It had clearly been aimed at his leg, so why was he suddenly being hit in the shoulder?
But he had no time to think. Chung Myung’s sword, which had just struck his shoulder, came around again and smashed toward his head.
This time Gong Mun-yeon set his angle correctly and blocked above his head.
Thud!
The world in front of him went blurry for an instant.
The world blacked out, then slowly returned to color. At the same time, his breath caught in his throat, and his neck throbbed as though it might snap.
"Kheuk!"
Chung Myung had stabbed him in the throat. Since the sword had not been drawn from the scabbard, his throat wasn’t cut open, but the scabbard itself was no different from a lump of iron, so of course the pain was terrible.
Tears welled up, and his whole body shook uncontrollably.
Smack! Smack!
Even then, Chung Myung’s sword kept coming down.
Shoulder, head, waist.
At this point he was practically swinging the thing like someone beating a village dog on the way to Sambok.
What was even more absurd was that even though the sword was being swung that carelessly, Gong Mun-yeon could never once dodge properly. If he twisted his shoulder away, Chung Myung would slam his waist; if he pulled his waist back, Chung Myung would smash his head.
Gong Mun-yeon, now a complete mess, stumbled back in horror.
H-he’s going to…
Fear seized him all at once that he might really get beaten to death like this.
The instant he snapped his eyes open and looked ahead, Gong Mun-yeon and Chung Myung’s gazes met.
And in that instant, Gong Mun-yeon knew.
The eyes.
The moment he saw Chung Myung’s eyes, devoid of even a trace of emotion, Gong Mun-yeon’s instincts screamed the truth at him.
Over the course of his life, he had seen eyes like that many times. And every one of those people had shared the same trait.
Madmen who kill.
He didn’t know who this bastard was, but he had unquestionably killed countless people. Beating Gong Mun-yeon to death would probably be no different to him than swatting a fly.
The moment that sword, swung as if it were a joke, left its scabbard, Gong Mun-yeon would surely have his throat cut before he could even resist.
N-no!
He didn’t want to die. At the very least, he didn’t want to die here!
At that instant, Chung Myung’s sword was drawn from the scabbard. Then, with lightning-like speed, it came down toward Gong Mun-yeon’s head.
"Aaaaargh!"
Gong Mun-yeon’s hand flared with blue light. Then it shot out like lightning toward Chung Myung’s sword.
Fwaaaang!
Having just struck the empty air, Gong Mun-yeon froze with his arm still extended.
"…."
Nothing.
Chung Myung was gone from where he should have been. Just as Gong Mun-yeon came to his senses in a panic and lifted his head, Chung Myung was already far away, standing with one leg cocked as he slid his sword back into its scabbard.
Chung Myung spoke.
"Taeul Shinsu?"
"…."
"You bastard?"
At that instant, Gong Mun-yeon’s face drained white as he realized his blunder.
"You’re one of the Jongnam Sect, aren’t you?"
And then it contorted hideously.