Anyway, If You’re Late, You Die. (1)
Whoooooosh—!
It was raining so hard it looked as though the sky had split open.
Oh Jang-song, an elder of the Ghost Sect, kept staring toward the gate with a worried look on his face.
“Shouldn’t they be back by now?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
There’s no way it should take this long.
Do Un-chan, the Ghost Sect’s sub-sect leader, was someone who could honestly claim to rank among the top ten in the world when it came to footwork. Gye Hyeong, who had accompanied him to Shaanxi, was no less skilled in that regard.
For the two of them to take this long simply to go to Shaanxi and return was incomprehensible.
“Could something have happened…?”
“Watch your mouth! Don’t go saying things like that!”
“S-sorry.”
Oh Jang-song clicked his tongue, looking displeased.
No, that can’t happen.
It absolutely could not.
The Ghost Sect had only just barely regained stability after a long internal conflict. If the sub-sect leader were to meet with disaster in a situation like this, the sect would surely be driven straight into the abyss.
“He’s not someone who would suffer such a thing. Who in this world could possibly keep up with his speed?”
“Yes! This disciple was foolish.”
With a faint snort, Oh Jang-song frowned and let out a sigh.
And then, just then, one of the disciples guarding the gate came running up and shouted, “Elder!”
“Hmm?”
“Th-they’re here! It looks like the sub-sect leader has returned!”
“Ohhh!”
Oh Jang-song shot to his feet and rushed toward the gate.
“At last!”
It was, truly, a historic moment.
If the sub-sect leader had returned, it meant the Sect Leader’s Token had been recovered. That meant the sub-sect leader could now officially ascend to the position of sect leader and properly lead the Ghost Sect, did it not?
Ancestors above!
With an overwhelmed expression, Oh Jang-song threw the main gate of the sect wide open.
“Sub-sect leader! Welcome ba—”
But the smile on his face froze where it was.
...Huh?
He rubbed his eyes once, then twice, then blinked again and again as if that might help him understand what he was seeing.
What is that?
He could not take his eyes off the cart climbing up the narrow mountain path as if it intended to smash the road apart. What on earth was that supposed to be?
“...Why is a person pulling that cart?”
“...Exactly.”
One of the disciples who had followed after him muttered the answer in a daze.
At the very front, a bald monk with a shining scalp was pulling the cart, his face flushed red. Perhaps because he was a monk, he was still chanting as he struggled along in obvious misery—
“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all—”
Ah. No, that wasn’t chanting.
He’d thought it was a prayer…
Behind the monk in front, men in daoist robes were hauling the cart while cursing under their breath with all their strength.
A monk and daoists... no, are those even beggars back there?
What kind of absurd combination was this?
And even more absurd was this…
“We’re gonna see the sun rise at this rate! Have you all been living on gruel? If you’re given expensive meat, you’d better earn your keep! Pull harder—move it, move it!”
The youngest-looking one of the lot was standing on top of the cart, barking orders at everyone else.
It was a scene so far beyond Oh Jang-song’s common sense that he couldn’t begin to process it.
“Su-sub-sect leader?”
Only after he had been stunned senseless by the whole spectacle did his gaze finally land on Do Un-chan. Seeing him trudging along beside the cart, Oh Jang-song panicked and ran over.
“Th-the sub-sect leader…”
“Grrrrrgh!”
“Aaaaaaagh!”
“Damn it!”
At the shouting from beside him, Oh Jang-song flinched and looked over.
Soaked through by rain, they were pushing forward while steam rose off their entire bodies. Their breath and the vapor lifting from their skin made them look as though they were burning alive.
Did they come from hell…?
No, they hadn’t. These were monks and daoists…
“Sub-sect leader, what on earth happened here?”
“...Let’s go inside first and speak, Elder Oh.”
“Y-yes! Yes!”
Creaaak! Creaaak!
The rain-soaked cart made an eerie, ghostly noise as it rolled into the Ghost Sect.
And then.
The moment it entered the grounds, the ones pulling it let go of the iron poles in unison and collapsed flat onto the ground.
“...Damn... it…”
“...That demon-spawn bastard! That—”
“What kind of sect is built this far up in the damned mountains!”
Baek Cheon glared and barked out a furious shout. The terrifying force of it made Do Un-chan shrink back, his shoulders jerking.
“...My apologies. The Ghost Sect is a place that prefers not to be known outside.”
“Grrrrrrgh.”
Baek Cheon answered by collapsing face-first on the ground and panting like a dying man.
Seeing them all soaked and groaning, they looked like nothing so much as defeated soldiers.
“Tsk, tsk. You lot are pathetic.”
“That bastard…?”
“I’m going to kill him. I really am.”
While curses rained down around him, Chung Myung jumped off the cart and brought the gourd in his hand to his mouth. He chugged down a long swallow of liquor before finally lowering it with a satisfied “Krrr,” wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“What are you whining about? We’re hardly even there yet. It wasn’t that far.”
Baek Cheon, seemingly too exhausted even to argue, spread out flat on his back and stared up at the sky.
He’s insane. Completely insane.
They had come five thousand li from Shaanxi to here. For an ordinary person, that would be a journey long enough to flirt with death even on foot.
And they had done it while hauling a cart made of iron, laden with Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron besides. No matter how skilled a martial artist they were, their bodies had no chance of holding up.
More than that…
Now I understand why people don’t make carts out of iron.
A cart was the kind of thing that required regular upkeep, oiling, and maintenance. But everyone traveling with them was good for nothing except throwing punches and kicking things around; in daily life, they were utterly useless incompetents.
So they had no choice but to force the increasingly stiff and clattering cart forward with brute strength.
“...Sahyeong. I feel like I’m going to die.”
“I’m already dead.”
“I want to kill someone.”
Even Yu I-seol, who was as obsessed with training as ever, ground her teeth and glared at Chung Myung.
Yet Chung Myung, receiving those looks with his whole body, only continued calmly drinking.
“Tsk, tsk. What good are you people if your frames are this weak?”
“Frames? Frames? Looks like yours is made of iron, huh? Let’s see how well you hold up, then—!”
BOOM!
“Aaaaaaaaagh!”
Baek Cheon, who had leapt up and charged at Chung Myung, was kicked in the backside and sent flying into a corner.
That guy really does have incredible persistence.
Or maybe he’s just hopelessly stubborn.
It was a mystery how he kept throwing himself forward day after day, getting beaten down and knocked away every single time.
“Sub-sect leader.”
“Yes, Daoist.”
“Still, it does look like they’ve suffered quite a bit, so please let our kids… no, let my martial brothers wash up.”
“I’ll have hot water prepared immediately.”
“Hehe. Thank you.”
Do Un-chan spoke quickly to Oh Jang-song.
“Prepare warm water and food. Right now!”
“I-understood! Sub-sect leader.”
Oh Jang-song was beginning to suspect the sub-sect leader had brought back a bunch of strange people.
“Haaaaaaah…”
“Huuuuuuu…”
Sighs of heavenly bliss escaped from Yoon Jong and Jo Gul as they sank into the hot bath.
“This… this is paradise.”
“I feel like I can live again.”
Jo Gul, one foot already outside the tub, grimaced. His feet were so swollen they looked ready to peel apart at the skin.
“Seriously… this time I really thought I was going to die.”
“Ugh. To think we’d see hell just from pulling a cart.”
In the end, what mattered was not the type of training, but its intensity.
That’s why Chung Myung is a crazy bastard.
Who else would grind martial artists down to the bone simply by making them pull a cart?
“Pwah-haaaah!”
Just then, Baek Cheon, who had been bubbling away in the water for ages, burst up to the surface.
Chwaaash.
When he threw his head back, his soaked hair swept down behind him in a shining cascade.
The sight made Jo Gul hesitate, as if at a loss for words.
“...How should I put this.”
Baek Cheon’s long, thick hair hanging loose and Hye Yeon’s smooth scalp bobbing beside it made for an oddly unsettling contrast.
Baek Cheon grinned and looked over at Hye Yeon.
“Haha. Hye Yeon... M-Monk! You can’t fall asleep here! You’ll die if you do!”
He hastily reached out and yanked Hye Yeon’s head up from under the water.
“No, the monk’s head!”
“That’s rude!”
Like an octopus being dragged out of the water, Hye Yeon was pulled back to the surface. He shook his head a few times, looking dazed, before forcing out words at last.
“...Have the Mount Hua disciples always trained like this?”
“Well…”
“This is pretty normal, actually.”
“Honestly, this time we just had to rush. It was worse when we went to Yunnan before, wasn’t it?”
“Nah. Sahyung, we’ve gotten stronger since then too.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
After hearing all that, Hye Yeon shook his head.
So that’s how Mount Hua got this strong.
He had already watched them train a few times in Xi'an, but that had only been the merest drop in the bucket. If you ground people down like this, it was stranger that they wouldn’t get stronger. If they didn’t get stronger, they’d die.
Hye Yeon glanced sideways at Yoon Jong.
The muscles across his chest, visible above the water, looked hard as forged iron.
How shameful.
These people were sword users. And he was a fist fighter who used his bare hands.
Wasn’t it obvious who ought to be training their body harder?
Yet even Yoon Jong, who looked among the thinnest of Mount Hua’s disciples, had a more solid build than Hye Yeon did.
It was enough to make all the years he’d spent believing himself unmatched in physical conditioning feel embarrassing.
“By the way, where did Chung Myung-siju go?”
“He washed up and left a while ago.”
“Why in such a rush…?”
Jo Gul shrugged.
“We can rest now, but Chung Myung? He’s just getting started.”
“Ah…”
Yoon Jong puffed out his cheeks.
“That damned bastard really does leave you speechless.”
“...Agreed.”
The Mount Hua disciples all let out a collective sigh.
Pulling an iron cart was hard work. And if the one riding atop it was using Thousand-Pound Weight to make it heavier, there was no need to say more.
But no matter how hard that had been, it still couldn’t compare to maintaining Thousand-Pound Weight all the way from Shaanxi to here.
Baek Cheon shook his head and spoke again.
“And then he went straight off to work.”
“...Isn’t he just insane?”
Everyone’s gaze drifted toward the bathhouse door.
“...We’re still nowhere near catching up to him.”
Baek Cheon’s mutter seemed to speak for everyone’s feelings.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“What do you mean by that? Transport?”
Oh Jang-song looked at the sub-sect leader with a baffled expression.
“You mean you want to use the disciples as escort guards?”
“That is correct.”
“Sub-sect leader!”
As Oh Jang-song’s voice rose, Chung Myung, who was sitting across from him, gave the gourd in his hand a slight shake.
“Now, now. No need to get so worked up.”
At that carefree tone, Oh Jang-song turned a sharp look on Chung Myung.
“And who are you to be sitting here? By the looks of it, you’re only a young disciple of Mount Hua!”
“Ah, I’m…”
“Elder Oh.”
At that moment, Do Un-chan swiftly reached out and grabbed Oh Jang-song by the shoulder.
“Yes?”
“...Watch your words.”
If you don’t want to die.
Of course, the rest of the sentence was mouthed soundlessly, but Oh Jang-song was not so dull that he failed to read it.
...What is this?
A threat?
No, not exactly a threat. Was it a warning?
Oh Jang-song’s gaze shifted back to Chung Myung.
Does that mean this young disciple is that dangerous?
One incomprehensible thing after another was happening.
Then Chung Myung smiled brightly.
“I may be young, but I was entrusted with full authority over this matter by the sect leader, so don’t worry. Everything I say here represents Mount Hua’s will.”
“And why should I believe th—”
“Oh, come on. We came here with the sub-sect leader, didn’t we? You don’t trust him either?”
Oh Jang-song looked back and forth between Do Un-chan and Chung Myung, then gave a low sigh.
“...That isn’t the issue.”
“Then we’re fine.”
At Chung Myung’s shrug, Oh Jang-song closed his mouth, as though he had nothing left to say.
“Sub-sect leader.”
“Mm. Understood, Daoist.”
Do Un-chan nodded and began explaining everything that had happened to Oh Jang-song.
Even after the explanation was finished, Oh Jang-song remained silent for a while, his gaze heavy and thoughtful as he looked at Do Un-chan.
“I understand what you’re saying. It makes sense, on the face of it. I also understand why you brought these people here.”
Oh?
Chung Myung looked at him with renewed interest.
So that old stick-in-the-mud wasn’t just going to sprawl down and refuse? He actually knew how to talk, didn’t he?
“However, Sub-sect leader, there is one thing that still troubles me. It is only natural that the sect’s finances matter, but a sect that focuses only on money inevitably fails to reach far.”
“...Mm. That’s also true.”
“If the disciples spend their time carrying goods, they will lose time for training. Time wasted in that manner never returns. And once enough money has been gathered, it will already be too late—the most important period for training will have passed.”
“Hmm.”
Do Un-chan, listening to this, nodded repeatedly as if it made sense.
Chung Myung clicked his tongue inwardly.
Why is his ear so bloody soft?
So now you’re right, and you’re right too?
If you’re a sect leader, you need decisiveness!
If that man had gone ahead and taken the position of sect leader to lead the Ghost Sect, Chung Myung could already imagine exactly how things would have ended.
Still.
If he had both skill and decisiveness, there was no way he would have been unable to sort out the sect’s internal strife for this long.
“Tsk.”
After clicking his tongue, Chung Myung looked at the two men. It seemed like it was time to cut to the heart of the matter.
“So what Elder is saying is…”
“Hmm?”
“You’re worried they won’t be able to train properly?”
“That is so.”
“And if that problem is solved, then everything else is fine?”
“Who in the world dislikes money? If we can still train properly, there’s no reason to oppose it. But aren’t those two things incompatible?”
“Ah. Why would they be incompatible?”
“...What?”
Chung Myung grinned.
“All you need to do is prove that they can be made compatible, right?”
“...Uhh?”
Oh Jang-song tilted his head in confusion. Chung Myung shrugged and smiled.
“Hehe. Don’t worry. I’ll show you for sure.”
That smile, somehow wicked-looking, made Do Un-chan’s stomach drop.
He had a feeling he’d made a mistake.
Closing his eyes tightly, he murmured the words he hadn’t managed to say aloud.
Elder Oh. You’ve made a mistake.
Now that he had come to understand, to some extent, exactly what kind of person Chung Myung was, the future of the Ghost Sect seemed to unfold before his eyes in all its sorrowful clarity.