Mount Hua Is Not the Place You Must Protect (2)
"Wipe them out!"
"How dare these bastards invade Mount Hua?"
"I’ll gut them myself!"
The disciples of Mount Hua charged at Maninbang with murderous momentum.
Surrounded on both sides, Maninbang fought desperately, but it wasn’t enough to stop foes who had already seized the initiative.
Especially not when—
"The left is open! Jo Gul!"
"Yes, Sahyung!"
Yoon Jong and Jo Gul, moving in perfect sync, stood out sharply even in the midst of the many people swarming through Mount Hua.
Swish!
Jo Gul and Yoon Jong’s swords moved with precise intent, each blade hunting its target.
Yoon Jong’s sword was the very definition of orthodox form. Not too fierce, not too soft—just right.
His sword did not stray from the middle way. There was no imbalance in it.
Mount Hua might well have swordsmen greater than Yoon Jong, but anyone who wished to pass Mount Hua’s sword onward to future generations would have no choice but to use Yoon Jong’s sword as their model.
Jo Gul’s sword, on the other hand, did not follow the orthodox path so much as it slipped sideways into unpredictability.
His swift thrusts were subtly off-kilter. In terms of refinement, it would be hard to praise, but anyone facing it would be forced to recoil from that bizarre rhythm and warped speed.
Orthodox and unorthodox.
Two swords that should have been hard to blend moved together perfectly, supporting each other like interlocking gears.
"Sasuk, don’t get excited! Don’t let your guard down until the very end!"
"Got it!"
"Understood!"
Not only Jo Gul, but the other second-generation disciples also showed no resistance at all to taking orders from Yoon Jong.
Mount Hua had long since become a sect where rank meant little, hadn’t it?
To those who had spent years watching Chung Myung run wild, generation labels meant no more than the difference in when someone had entered the sect.
Even if Yoon Jong had never made his name as one of the Mount Hua Five Swords, the second-generation disciples would still have followed his lead without hesitation.
"Press them back!"
"Ooooooh!"
On the other side, the people driving Maninbang backward were just as fierce.
No.
Fiercer, even. The ones dispatched to support Hwayeong Gate in Xi'an were elite even by Mount Hua’s standards. The fury in their eyes burned hot as they looked at the evil bastards who had invaded while they were away from home.
And then—
"What are you doing? How dare you not crush those damned fools at once!"
"Yes, Elder!"
Upon hearing Hyun Young’s thunderous shout, Baek Sang raised his sword to the sky and roared.
"Exterminate the demonic scum of the evil path!"
"Yes!"
Baek Sang had long since become part of the Finance Hall and was no longer far from martial matters, but his standing as the right hand of Baek Cheon, the one who had once led the second-generation disciples, had not changed.
Having faced setbacks, recognized his own shortcomings, and cast aside arrogance, his perspective had in fact grown wider than before. Wide enough to survey the battlefield in all directions without difficulty.
That was why Baek Sang was filling Baek Cheon’s place so well.
"Th-these bastards!"
"Dammit!"
The Maninbang fighters were pushed back little by little, letting out stifled groans.
"How are the swords of these brats so sharp…!"
"L-Leader! Where are the leaders?"
"Fall back!"
They were breaking.
The reason righteous factions emphasized self-cultivation was to forge an unshakable mind that would not waver under any circumstances.
And that kind of mental strength was not something born merely through repetitive training.
A clear sense of belonging.
Tenacious will.
And an unshakable faith in one’s own path.
By contrast, those who could abandon righteousness for profit had no power in places where profit did not exist.
The moment they realized their momentum had collapsed and the situation had turned against them, the Maninbang fighters could not even bring out half their true strength.
"T-the leader…"
As the panicked men glanced around wildly, a massive golden hand shadow entered their sight.
"Amitabha!"
The Great Strength Vajra Palm unleashed from Hye Yeon’s hand flew with majestic force toward Dokhyulsu.
Dokhyulsu clenched his teeth and flung black murderous energy from both hands.
"You, you damn monk!"
Rumbleeeeeee—!
It was as if a giant had brought its palm crashing down. Barely managing to block the Great Strength Vajra Palm with his murderous aura, Dokhyulsu’s feet immediately sank into the ground under the force.
"Ngh!"
The pressure twisted through his entire body. It felt as though Mount Tai had dropped onto his head. This was not a fierce blow, but a ludicrous weight pressing him down. As if trying to crush a bug to death.
Th-this is Shaolin…
Shaolin’s martial arts were the martial arts of heaviness.
Steady, repetitive training that looked almost suffocating.
Rather than training, it was closer to ascetic practice—endurance that walked and walked and walked an arduous, distant road, a path a normal person would never dare travel. Through that, they built their martial arts step by step.
And the ultimate essence of that art was now revealing itself through Hye Yeon’s hands.
"Aaaaaaagh!"
Dokhyulsu screamed and swung both arms with all his strength.
But it was useless.
The demonic qi pouring from his poisoned hands was utterly powerless before Hye Yeon’s palm arts, which carried the power of Buddha’s law.
An immense internal force poured out without end, and his wide stance rooted itself firmly into the earth.
A giant tree.
A great, sturdy tree would not sway even in a typhoon and could live for thousands of years. The Shaolin martial arts carved into Hye Yeon’s body were enough to turn him into such a tree.
"Aaaaaaaaah! You bratttt!"
Unable to withstand the pressure, blood burst from Dokhyulsu’s seven apertures.
Dammit.
Yado quickly scanned his surroundings with trembling eyes.
This is bad.
To survive on the battlefield, the ability to read the flow of battle was essential. He was a veteran who had survived countless battlefields, earning the name Yado. He understood full well that this battle had already tilted heavily to one side.
There was no chance of winning.
I need to get out.
He had no hobby of dying alongside his underlings. To some people, that might be romantic, but to Yado it was nothing but a dog’s death.
What in the world was more important than one’s own life?
Before the situation worsened further and the retreat route was sealed completely, he had to get out. Of course, the leader would be furious, but all he had to do was make sure he never returned to Maninbang. He could slip away into the foreign regions for a while…
Swish!
"Kuh!"
Breathing hard, Yado blocked the sword flying toward him.
Clang!
The sword lightly tapped the blade and spun around, aiming straight for his neck.
In the instant he reflexively leaned back, the tip of the thrusting sword trembled and burst into dozens of plum blossom sword energies.
Yado’s eyes flew wide open.
"Damn it!"
His saber qi surged two feet higher. He explosively unleashed it and swept the incoming plum blossom sword energies away in a single stroke of the blade.
"Huff!"
Even after blocking the attack, his expression did not relax in the slightest.
This bastard!
"You look pretty desperate."
The pretty-faced white-robed swordsman snickered softly at him, looking like some pampered nobleman.
Yado unconsciously bit down hard on his lip.
He’s getting stronger.
It was absurd, but this bastard was growing even while fighting him. No—it wasn’t just him. Everyone here had different eyes now than when the fight first began.
Growing? No, that’s impossible.
Growth was the reward of training. Of course, a single strike in real combat could be worth hundreds of strikes swung alone, but even that didn’t fully explain it. These weren’t people who had only just picked up a sword.
…First time?
Yado’s body jolted.
Only then did he remember. This was probably their first time being thrown into a true battle.
Rather than growth, it’s more like they’re internalizing it?
Once a fighter enters real combat, the body stiffens. Even those who have swung their swords countless times and forged blades close to perfection will often hesitate when forced to point their sword at a person rather than empty air.
And that tiny hesitation twists the sword path and erodes skill.
But this battle was teaching them familiarity.
They were learning, with both mind and body, why the countless sword swings they had hurled at emptiness were meant to be used in real combat.
So how could their skill not improve?
So this is what they get for Maninbang invading—they’re racking up good experience?
His stomach boiled.
Yado had lived relying on talent and instinct more than training until one day he ran into a wall he could no longer overcome. That was why it made his insides turn whenever he saw half-bloomed talents shining.
But at any rate, right now, instead of surrendering himself to emotion, surviving here and hiding his body was the priority.
And then Baek Cheon fixed him with a sharp gaze.
"Your weight is shifting backward."
"…."
Yado flinched slightly and looked at him.
There was so much blood on the young warrior’s sword, yet his eyes still held the brightest, purest light as he stared straight at Yado.
The eyes of a man who never once doubted the path he walked.
They were so dazzling he could hardly bear to meet them.
"You only shift your weight forward when you’re facing an opponent you can beat?"
"…."
"That damned bastard used to say something like this. Eyes speak of will, but the feet touch reality. The most pathetic kind are the ones whose eyes spit out anger while their feet are already pulling back."
Baek Cheon’s words stabbed painfully into Yado’s chest.
"Want to run? Then I’ll tell you the fastest way. Cut me down and go. No one here will stop you. Isn’t that right?"
Yado’s face flushed red.
The bastard acting all high and mighty was looking down at him, when not long ago he’d still have been a newborn babe when Yado first started drinking blood on the battlefield.
What greater humiliation could there be?
I, too, once…
Yado tightened both hands around his saber.
It was no good to think too much. A simple mind was better.
"Fine, you brat! I’ll make you regret those words!"
"Any time!"
Yado roared and charged again.
His style was still crude as ever. But the saber filled with his fury was so ferocious it seemed ready to grind Baek Cheon’s entire body into dust.
Like waves crashing through a storm-tossed sea.
Watching that violently surging saber qi sweep forward, Baek Cheon’s expression hardened slightly.
But he had no intention of retreating.
I’ve built this up.
He would not run.
He had endured Chung Myung’s brutal training and still managed to keep up with his own personal practice. He had steadfastly believed that if he kept moving forward, one step at a time, he would one day reach the realm he envisioned.
Those years were all stacked beneath his feet now.
Don’t meet force with force.
His sword was Mount Hua’s sword.
It was not a sword that crushed an opponent by force.
The tip of Baek Cheon’s sword trembled lightly. Then the streams of plum blossoms he unleashed met the storm of saber strikes rushing toward him.
First, one.
He had heard it so many times his ears had grown callused.
No matter how dazzling and varied an attack might be, there was always an order to things. Even attacks unleashed in a single instant were, if time were sliced thin enough, nothing more than a sequence that unfolded one step at a time.
Baek Cheon’s world slowed.
The path traced by Yado’s saber, which had seemed like a chaotic mess a moment ago, came into sharp clarity.
There!
The blooming plum blossoms rushed toward one point.
Sword and saber.
Force against force could not block it. But if one strike could not stop it, then two would. If two could not, then three.
He would keep swinging, again and again, until he finally drove it back.
Clang-clang-clang!
The plum blossom sword energy collided with the violent saber force and scattered, but behind each blossom that lost its strength and fell, another one bloomed anew.
Bloom and bloom again.
It didn’t need to be perfect. It was enough if the sword was where it needed to be, when it needed to be there.
That was the righteous way.
The sword he was meant to pursue.
"Y-you…!"
Shock flickered in Yado’s eyes.
Baek Cheon’s sword was ascending another level. The sword that had been uneven only moments ago now moved with a strange, settled stability.
What the hell is this?
It was gorgeous.
And varied.
Yet the impression this beautiful, flowing current of plum blossoms gave him was closer to a wall made of steel.
A wall.
An impossible wall to cross.
Yado’s face went white for an instant.
How…
And just then—
"Aaaaaaagh!"
A scream of utter agony rang out. Yado’s eyes snapped toward the source of the sound.
Dokhyulsu!
Dokhyulsu, swept up in Hye Yeon’s golden aura, was spewing blood as he was blown backward. Yado clearly burned that sight into his eyes, then quickly turned his gaze back.
All his strength surged through his body.
A small opening.
A tiny opening.
Just as he had been forced to look away, that brat must have been distracted by Dokhyulsu and Hye Yeon’s situation too.
As proof, a tiny gap opened in the saber storm that had been rolling at him like waves.
Now, attack—!
Whoosh!
His foot smashed against the ground.
But the direction his body moved in was not forward—it was back. The instant he thought the opponent had revealed an opening, his body chose flight before his mind could even finish judging the situation.
Ah…
The disconnect between mind and body ruined his posture. The saber qi that had been reaching out lost its force, and the leg that had launched his body failed to carry proper strength either.
And then—
Baek Cheon’s gaze, shining through the opening in the plum blossoms, met his in midair.
Shwaaaaaah!
The plum blossom sword energy burst in all directions at once, and through that scattering storm, a single sword strike descended with the force to cleave the world in two.
A sword clear, proud, and utterly resolute.
Slash!
Baek Cheon’s surging sword energy drove into Yado’s chest.
Riiip.
With that chilling sound, his chest was split open in a long line.
Thud.
Yado landed on the ground, looked quietly down at his own chest, then lifted his head to meet Baek Cheon’s eyes.
Snikt.
Baek Cheon sheathed his sword and stared at Yado with eyes full of bright spirit before speaking.
"That’s the result of the path you’ve lived."
"…."
Yado’s mouth moved as if he wanted to protest something, but then he crumpled to the ground.
Thump.
Watching him remain with his eyes open even in death, Baek Cheon looked up briefly at the sky.
I’m still far too lacking.
He admitted it humbly. In terms of skill, he had lost.
If he had fought alone, he would have lost for sure, and if Yado had chosen not to flee at the last moment but to stand his ground, he likely would not have been able to subdue him by himself.
It was nothing more than a victory he had gotten by luck.
But—
"I’m different from you."
He moved forward.
He would accept defeat, and the bitterness that came with it, all of it.
Even if he faced something he could not bear, Baek Cheon would not run like Yado had. There was nothing to gain by turning away from the road one had to walk and fleeing from it.
Without a shred of hesitation, Baek Cheon turned and shouted,
"The Maninbang leader has been taken down! Surround those evil bastards!"
His voice thundered across Mount Hua.