A Monk Rolling In, Huh (5)
"Taat!"
"Taaaaat!"
"Ack!"
"Heh heh heh."
With an expression of utter satisfaction, Chung Myung watched the children practicing their forms.
And the Mount Hua disciples watched him with faces full of unease.
"What’s wrong with him?"
"What do you mean?"
"I thought he’d have them rolling in the dirt the moment they showed up, but he’s strangely well-behaved."
"...Now that you mention it, yes."
Baek Cheon frowned as if he truly couldn’t understand it at all.
"There’s no way that demon would go easy on them just because they’re children."
But contrary to their worries, Chung Myung was in an unusually mellow state.
How cute.
Seeing the little children still soft with baby fat lined up and thrusting out their fists made his heart swell with satisfaction.
Huh?
So why had he treated his martial siblings so differently before?
I don’t have to teach these brats myself, do I?
It was only natural that nephews and nieces looked cuter than one’s own children. You didn’t have to raise a nephew yourself; you just got to like them. How adorable, then, were these young disciples who didn’t require him to sweat over their education?
Besides—
"Come on, stretch your hands out a little farther."
"Ooh, that’s it! That’s it! You’re doing well."
"Don’t cry! If you cry, you can’t become a strong man!"
Watching the Huaying Gate leader and the Huaying Gate disciples instruct the children, Chung Myung felt like applauding them.
For good reason, too: the disciples of Huaying Gate handled the children as though this was their true calling in life.
After all, how many years had the Huaying Gate leader spent running a martial school in Namgung?
When every extra child meant another coin in your pocket, you learned to cling to them with desperate effort. That experience, accumulated in the struggle not to lose a single student who came through the door, was shining brilliantly here and now.
On the other hand...
"You utterly useless excuses for human beings."
When Chung Myung glared at them with hawk-like eyes, the Mount Hua disciples flinched and looked away.
"Just what the hell did you do to make every single kid run home crying before even one incense stick had burned?"
"...We went easy on them."
"We really did go easy on them."
"Shut up!"
As Chung Myung barked at them and launched into another stream of scolding, the Mount Hua disciples stuck out their lips in offense.
And who taught us that?
We really did go easy on them! We did!
Unfortunately, by Mount Hua’s standards, easy was still far too harsh for children to endure.
"Fine. What the hell am I even expecting from you people?"
After sweeping the Mount Hua disciples with the look one used for cockroaches, Chung Myung’s face softened again as if snow were melting off it, and he turned back to the children thrusting their tiny fists into the air.
That’s all money, right there.
His smile grew even more pleased.
Unlike the main-sect disciples, who not only failed to bring in money after joining but practically sucked the sect dry with the enthusiasm of glued rice cakes, those secular disciples were precious beyond compare—people who learned martial arts and brought money in at the same time!
That money would fatten the secular branch, and from there the secular branch would make offerings back to the main sect. A system like that—why, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
So how could he not be fond of them?
Watching the children thrust out their fists like chicks pecking at grain made him full even without eating, and not sleeping left him strangely unfatigued.
"Heh heh heh."
At last, Chung Myung laughed out loud and muttered,
"This is only the beginning."
First, they would firmly establish secular branches around Xi'an, centered on Huaying Gate. And then, using Xi'an as the hub, they would gradually spread secular branches throughout all of Shaanxi.
"From Xi'an to Shaanxi! From Shaanxi to the whole world!"
When all of that was achieved, Mount Hua would finally be able to declare, with confidence, that it had recovered its former influence.
"We’re talking filthy money here! Kekekekekeke!"
Chung Myung burst into hearty laughter.
But.
As always, the world had no intention of going exactly as planned.
...Why does it feel like something’s missing?
Chung Myung eyed the children practicing before him with suspicion.
One, two, three, four...
They were missing.
It had only been three days since the children began training, and yet it already felt as though more than half had vanished.
No, not felt as though—it really had...
"W-why have the kids decreased?"
At Chung Myung’s question, the Huaying Gate leader, who had been watching the training, forced out an awkward laugh.
"The initial enthusiasm never lasts more than ten days. Those who remain after ten days are the ones who go the distance."
"...It’s only been three days."
"Regrettably, you must accept it, Taoist priest. If half of them remain, consider it a blessing."
With a blank expression, Chung Myung turned to stare at the Huaying Gate leader.
Half?
Half, he said?
Then does that mean my profit gets cut in half too?
His heart hurt.
"N-no. Then my money..."
From the beginning, Mount Hua’s money had never truly been his money, but such a thought never once entered Chung Myung’s head.
And then it happened.
Pat pat pat.
Two of the children who had been training diligently came running over to where the Huaying Gate leader and Chung Myung were standing.
"U-um, Gate Leader."
"Mm?"
When he looked at them with a questioning gaze, the children—eyes already slightly unfocused—spoke up.
"Th-that... when can we learn the sword that draws flowers?"
At that adorable voice, the Huaying Gate leader smiled warmly.
"Ha ha. So you wish to draw plum blossoms? But that is still too early for you. You must swing a sword for at least another ten years before you can draw plum blossoms."
"Ah! Ten years?"
"Of course. Just work hard for ten years!"
"Yes! We’re quitting."
"...Pardon?"
"Ah, that was exhausting. Let’s go home."
"Huh...?"
"Goodbye!"
"Eh?"
The children cheerfully said their goodbyes and left Huaying Gate without so much as looking back.
"...Huh?"
The Huaying Gate leader and Chung Myung could only stare dumbly after them, unable even to stop them.
Another day passed.
"...Why have the kids been cut in half again?"
"...."
"This isn’t even some battlefield, and yet people disappear every time I wake up."
Even on a battlefield where morale had sunk all the way to hell and desertions happened every night, people probably wouldn’t be disappearing this fast.
"Gate Leader. What on earth is going on here?"
"...You shouldn’t ask me that..."
Watching the two men stand there with dazed expressions while staring at the training yard, Jo Gul let out a bitter smile.
"Seems like they don’t really know why they should be training hard."
"Hm?"
"If you think about it, it makes sense. The kids who came here to enroll were never all that interested in martial arts to begin with."
"Why not?"
"Because the ones who were interested already enrolled with Mount Zhongnan or Mount Zhongnan’s secular branches."
"...."
Oh?
He hadn’t thought of that.
"So that means?"
Jo Gul nodded.
"Right. The kids who enrolled here aren’t interested in grinding their bodies through training in the first place. They were dragged here by their parents, or came because a flower they saw that day was pretty..."
He trailed off for a moment, then subtly jerked his chin toward the children training.
"And since they’re only being taught to punch and kick all day, they’re not finding it interesting."
"Th-then what if we teach them swordsmanship?"
"It’d be about the same."
The answer came from Baek Cheon. His expression was a little heavy, too.
"We know Mount Hua is doing well, but there’s no reason for them to quit the school they’re already attending and come here. They can learn swordsmanship at the secular branches of Mount Zhongnan they’re already going to."
"But swordsmanship is different."
"That may be true, but..."
Yoon Jong joined in as well.
"For children that age, having friends to go around with is more important than flashy swordsmanship. They don’t want to drift away from their close friends just to learn a different style of swordplay."
"Friends?"
"Yes."
"What’s a friend?"
"...."
Seeing Chung Myung ask that with his eyes round as saucers, Yoon Jong couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut.
He’s hopeless.
From the beginning, this bastard could never understand people who lived ordinary lives.
"So, to sum it up,"
Baek Cheon said firmly,
"we can get a momentary effect by showing off the Plum Blossom Sword Art or lowering the tuition, but we can’t snatch away people who are already learning martial arts somewhere else."
"Especially since our opponents are Mount Zhongnan, one of the Gupailbang, and we haven’t yet returned to the Gupailbang ourselves."
"And half the people in Xi'an have ties to Mount Zhongnan."
Chung Myung bared his teeth and growled.
"Stop stating the obvious and tell me what the plan is!"
"...We don’t exactly have a plan..."
"Hey!"
Unable to hold back his anger, Chung Myung lashed out and kicked Jo Gul squarely in the ass.
"If you idiots don’t have a plan, quit running your mouths and making my head explode!"
"Calm down, Chung Myung."
Baek Cheon hurried to restrain him.
"The number of students has dropped a little, yes, but it’s not a small amount yet. If we keep expanding steadily..."
"At this rate, only when I’ve turned into some old white-haired grandpa will we even have a second secular branch! So Hak-i’ll be dead before then!"
Chung Myung ground his teeth. Then he said grumpily,
"So you’re saying we need to show something that’s clearly different from Mount Zhongnan’s secular branches?"
"...Yes. That’s what we need."
"Then why don’t we just go smash the heads of all those secular branch leaders?"
"...You’re a main-sect disciple. It’s meaningless if you do that. If anything, you’d have to smash the head of Mount Zhongnan’s sect leader—no, rather, his head—but Mount Zhongnan is closed right now."
"Damn it, why do they have to close up shop at a time like this?"
"...."
You were the one celebrating like crazy when they closed up at just this moment.
You indecisive bastard.
Baek Cheon swallowed the words he couldn’t possibly say.
"Grrrrrr."
Chung Myung clutched his head and fell into thought.
"A difference... a difference, huh. Something clearly better than Mount Zhongnan... no, what else is there besides being better at swinging a blade?"
Then, suddenly irritated again, he shouted,
"Forget the ones who didn’t come! What about the ones who did come—how long have they been here that they’re already quitting? They don’t have any grit at all, those bastards! In my day, it wasn’t like this! In my day!"
"I told you to calm down first."
As the anger drained from him again, Chung Myung let out a long sigh. Getting mad didn’t seem to produce any brilliant solution, either.
Even for Chung Myung, no answer to this problem was popping into his head right away.
We’ve already done just about everything we can under the name of Mount Hua.
In the end, both Mount Zhongnan and Mount Hua were sword sects.
No matter how hard they tried to make themselves distinct, it was difficult to show a dramatic difference in such a short time.
If only Mount Zhongnan hadn’t closed its gates, Chung Myung could have gone over and beaten them enough to show the difference by force.
But if Chung Myung, as a main-sect disciple, smashed the heads of Mount Zhongnan’s secular branch leaders, it would only look like an adult bullying a child while the grown-up wasn’t around.
Rather than helping, that might end up making it harder to draw people in.
"Grrr... this is becoming a pain in the ass."
"And, as I said before, maybe it would be better to teach swordsmanship faster..."
"No."
But Chung Myung’s answer was immediate.
"This is a matter of fundamentals. Secular disciples generally can’t walk around wearing swords all the time. That means when trouble comes, they can’t simply draw and use sword techniques on the spot. Fist and foot techniques have to be taught."
"But there’s no one who wants to learn Mount Hua’s fist and foot techniques, is there?"
"Ugh. That’s the problem."
Chung Myung let out another sigh.
If the newly recruited Huaying Gate disciples could show results of their own, there would eventually be people who stayed out of trust. But right now, they were basically trying to lure people in with a sword and then teach them fists.
No wonder it was hard to get anyone interested.
"We have to solve this somehow."
But solutions didn’t exactly fall out of the sky...
Then—
"Are you there?"
A deep voice sounded from the entrance.
"Hm?"
Everyone inside turned at once toward the doorway.
It sounded vaguely familiar. Who...?
"Huh?"
"What?"
"W-what the hell?"
The Mount Hua disciples and the Huaying Gate disciples whose eyes landed on the person standing at the entrance had their eyeballs nearly pop out.
No, that was...
That was definitely... that?
A freshly shaved blue scalp.
A red monk’s robe.
A posture that seemed a little loose at first glance, yet was perfectly centered.
"Why the hell is he here?"
The man at the entrance looked around, then met Chung Myung’s eyes and broke into a bright smile.
"Amitabha. Layman! So you were here! This humble monk is Hye Yeon. Do you remember me?"
"...."
Staring blankly at the sight, Chung Myung’s face showed a rare look of utter bewilderment. After a moment, he spoke in a slightly dazed voice.
"...Uncle-Master."
"Hm?"
"Why is he here?"
"...Beats me."
Rubbing his eyes a couple of times, he let out a laugh of complete disbelief.
"Heh. Heh heh. A monk just rolled right in."
Heaven hadn’t dropped a solution from above, after all.
"Still, I never imagined he’d walk in on his own two feet."
This was exactly why one should live righteously.
"Uncle-Master."
"Hm?"
"Catch that bastard first."
"Huh?"
Chung Myung rose from his seat with a wicked little laugh.
"Found it. The solution!"
Meanwhile, Hye Yeon looked at Chung Myung approaching him with a pleased smile and felt an inexplicable unease.
Did I come at the right time?
No.
You came at the wrong time.