What Kind of Bandit Is This? (5)
Beon Chung was easily more than twice the size of an ordinary man. By contrast, Chung Myung’s body was on the smaller side, even for a typical martial artist.
Put the two of them together, and Beon Chung looked at least three times larger than Chung Myung.
As Beon Chung came charging forward with his momentum surging, Chung Myung looked like a tiny weasel blocking the path of a mad bull.
“H-hey—!”
“What the—!”
Cries of shock burst from everyone’s mouths, and at the same time, Im So-byeong shot to his feet.
Far from running away from Beon Chung, Chung Myung actually took a couple of steps forward.
“What is he doing!”
Of course, nobody thought Chung Myung would lose to Beon Chung. He was the famed Mount Hua Divine Dragon, known throughout the world. He might not be guaranteed a victory over Beon Chung, but there was no way anyone could talk about defeat as though it were certain.
But that only held true if he had a sword in his hand.
They had never once heard that Mount Hua had made a name for itself through bare-handed brawling. So what kind of nerve did he have, charging at Beon Chung with nothing but his fists?
Just then, a calm voice drifted into Im So-byeong’s ears.
“Tsk tsk. He’s going to get hurt if he keeps that up.”
“Yeah, seriously.”
Im So-byeong turned to stare at the Mount Hua disciples with a stunned expression.
The two sides were about to be mashed into paste like a praying mantis under a cartwheel, and yet those faces were completely relaxed. What in the world was wrong with them?
But Im So-byeong didn’t have the luxury of asking. Beon Chung had already closed the distance and swung his arm down as if to crush Chung Myung.
“You little bastard!”
His raised arm came crashing down toward Chung Myung’s head.
BOOOOM!
At that instant, dust exploded in every direction, briefly obscuring the two figures.
Those watching instinctively squeezed their eyes shut.
They prided themselves on having seen enough ugly sights while living as bandits, but the scene that was about to unfold was surely too miserable to look upon with open eyes.
Did he die?
Well, what did he expect, picking a fight like that…
A moment later, the bandits cautiously cracked open their eyes and peered ahead to see the result.
But what emerged as the dust cleared was nothing like what they had imagined.
“……Huh?”
“W-what the hell is that…?”
An arm.
Beon Chung’s violently descending arm was frozen in midair.
And beneath that arm, thicker than a grown man’s waist, another arm—so slender by comparison it looked like a fire poker—was stretched out straight.
The bandits all gaped, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.
He blocked it?
With that arm? That pillar-like arm?
It was impossible to believe. And yet what they were seeing with their own eyes could not be denied.
“……Good heavens.”
Even Beon Chung’s intimidating face had begun to fill with bewilderment.
“Y-you bastard……”
“Tsk.”
Chung Myung, having blocked Beon Chung’s arm as though it were nothing, clicked his tongue lightly.
“Why are you making such a big fuss?”
Then he casually pushed that massive arm aside.
Beon Chung, who had been momentarily frozen in shock, staggered back in alarm.
He looked back and forth between Chung Myung’s thin arm, which seemed perfectly fine, and his own. Even after experiencing it firsthand, he still couldn’t understand it.
What in the…
It felt like he had struck a block of iron.
No, it was more like the eternally unyielding boulders he had pounded on during training. How could a hand that small produce that kind of force? Did that even make sense?
Whether he understood or not, Chung Myung simply tilted his head left and right and rolled up both sleeves.
“Huh. You’re… more disappointing than I expected.”
Chung Myung’s lips curled into a grin. It was, truly, a refreshing smile.
Meanwhile, Im So-byeong was genuinely flustered.
He had always kept a cheerful, slippery attitude no matter what happened, but now he was so stunned he could barely speak.
He blocked it?
He blocked Beon Chung’s attack? Just like that?
As far as pure physical strength went, Beon Chung was one of the strongest men in the Green Forest, second to none.
Even those whose martial skill surpassed his rarely dared to meet his attacks head-on.
It was like saying that even if a tiger was stronger than an ox, it would still be smashed to bits if it rammed straight into one.
Yet Chung Myung, who looked less like a tiger than a fox at best, had stopped the charging ox with a single forepaw.
“No way…”
Of course, physical strength wasn’t everything.
The power of a martial artist was half innate strength and half internal energy. No—if anything, internal energy often accounted for even more.
And even taking all of that into account, this was still absurd.
Then once again, he heard the Mount Hua disciples muttering to one another.
“I knew it.”
“Exactly.”
Im So-byeong whipped his head around and asked, “What do you mean by that?”
Baek Cheon, seeing his bewildered face, let out a small laugh.
“It might sound strange, but that bastard is the strongest person in all of Mount Hua.”
“Not just strong,” another disciple added. “He’s absurd.”
“It doesn’t even make sense, honestly.”
“…….”
Im So-byeong blinked in disbelief.
“With that body?”
“Ah, it may not look like it, but…” Baek Cheon smiled bitterly.
Truthfully, it was the kind of thing that would be hard to believe unless one was a Mount Hua disciple.
Especially if one didn’t know what kind of training Chung Myung had first forced upon the Cheong generation.
“A graceful sword comes from a strong body.”
“If your body can’t bear it, how’s your sword supposed to?”
The moment he recalled Chung Myung’s training, those words—words he had heard until his ears were sore—rose naturally to his lips.
Yu I-seol murmured quietly, “Old man.”
But the truly infuriating part was that Chung Myung himself had practiced what he preached more perfectly than anyone else.
“Even if you drag every piece of iron in Mount Hua together, you still couldn’t keep up with his training now.”
“He adds stone to iron and still plays with it like it’s a toy.”
“……If we only had the words, we’d have plenty to say for ourselves.”
The Mount Hua disciples all sighed at once.
Im So-byeong looked back and forth between them and Chung Myung with a completely baffled expression.
As Chung Myung rolled up his sleeves, his forearms were exposed. The more closely Im So-byeong looked, the more he found himself gasping and groaning in disbelief.
At first glance those arms looked thin, but whenever they moved, the muscles beneath them stood out as hard as metal. One had to wonder how much training it took to build such a body.
“Compared to that, these guys are a little…”
“Honestly, they’re all soft as tofu.”
The Mount Hua disciples shook their heads in obvious dissatisfaction.
“For bandits, they’re awfully flimsy.”
“One tap and they’d go flying, wouldn’t they, Sasuk?”
A bunch of Taoist-robed bandits were clicking their tongues at the real bandits. Im So-byeong was so stunned he went completely silent.
The more I learn about them, the less I understand what kind of people they are.
His expression had already started to twist.
It was one thing if they were mocking his own body, which there was nothing he could do about. But having the men beneath him mocked not for their martial arts, but for their bodies, was starting to grate on him. He still had some pride as a bandit, after all.
Beon Chung! What are you doing?
Im So-byeong’s eyes flashed as he looked at Beon Chung.
“……You.”
Cold sweat streamed down Beon Chung’s forehead.
He had seen his share of rough weather—well, in truth, he hadn’t experienced much in the way of waterborne trouble, but when it came to mountain battles, he had lived through them enough to wear them down to the bone.
One exchange had been enough to gauge the opponent’s capabilities.
He’s strong.
Not merely in terms of martial skill.
That body itself was strong. It meant that his raw physical power, before he even channeled his internal energy, was in no way inferior.
He couldn’t understand how such a thing was possible.
“Tsk.”
Chung Myung clicked his tongue and strode toward Beon Chung.
Flinch.
Beon Chung instinctively stepped back.
Then he immediately realized how pathetic he looked and hastily straightened himself. He couldn’t show fear—no, he couldn’t show even a hint of confusion—here, surrounded by the bandits of Daeho Fort.
“……You bastard. Maybe it was dumb luck that blocked me once, but luck won’t save you twice!”
“Oh, really?”
Chung Myung grinned again, then stopped right where he was.
He spread both hands wide and held them out toward Beon Chung.
“Then come on. Let’s do this with nothing but strength—no useless tricks.”
Beon Chung swallowed hard as he looked at Chung Myung’s tiny hands, tiny compared to his own.
A contest of pure strength was, in fact, his preferred kind of fight. The others watching knew that too.
So he couldn’t afford to hesitate.
“I’ll make you regret this!”
Shouting as if to shake off doubt, Beon Chung brought his hands down onto Chung Myung’s.
Big hand and small hand locked together, fingers interlacing awkwardly.
Strength against strength.
Internal energy against internal energy.
“He—”
The onlookers held their breath, tense at this astonishing sight.
And then.
“HRAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Beon Chung roared at the top of his lungs and began to bear down on Chung Myung.
Veins crawled like worms over his thick forearms. Not only that—bulging veins stood out clearly on his forehead as well.
His face turned red with blood, as though it might burst at any moment, and his stout legs dug into the ground.
Anyone could see he was gathering every ounce of his strength and internal energy.
“GRAAAAAAAAH!”
Beon Chung looked like a Kongō Rikishi come to life. With his face scarlet and his body straining like a beast, everyone watching felt the pressure of it and unconsciously shrank back.
And yet.
Crk.
Crk-crk-crk.
The sound of bones twisting seemed to spread through the air, and even as Beon Chung’s feet slid backward, Chung Myung didn’t budge an inch.
The contrast between Beon Chung, who looked ready to spit blood from his seven orifices, and Chung Myung, calm and unhurried, was strangely stark.
“Hrk! Hrrk! GRAAAAH!”
At last, Chung Myung’s arm began to move back little by little.
But that was all. His wrist, bent back at an angle, would not give any further, and Chung Myung’s body itself did not so much as shift, as though it had been driven into the ground.
Then Chung Myung opened his mouth.
“Tsk tsk. Your natural strength is nice and all.”
Beon Chung’s eyes flew wide.
He was straining so hard he could barely force out a coherent word, but Chung Myung—the one actually bearing the force—was speaking as calmly as ever.
What’s more, there wasn’t even a hint of effort in his voice.
“So what if you’re naturally strong? If you don’t train and spend all day drinking, sleeping, and running around mugging people for cash, how’s your strength supposed to grow?”
Baek Cheon, listening to the savage lecture, muttered in protest, “You drink too.”
“……At least he trains.”
“Fair enough.”
Fortunately, it seemed their voices didn’t reach Chung Myung.
His words continued.
“That’s not how you use strength. What matters is focus—focus, got it? So!”
Chung Myung’s eyes flashed.
The pure internal energy seated in his danjeon began to race through his body.
Crk!
Crk-crk-crk!
Beon Chung’s eyes trembled violently.
The arm he had barely managed to force down was already being driven back into place in an instant. At the same time, an enormous surge of power unlike anything he had ever felt in his life surged up through his arm.
“N-no… n-no way… this can’t be…”
“Hup!”
Chung Myung thrust his arm straight out and began to press down on Beon Chung’s locked hands.
Grk-grk-grk.
The twisting sound was like someone wringing water out of laundry. Beon Chung’s shoulders slowly sank lower.
“Ghh… ghrrrrk!”
Beon Chung resisted with bloodshot eyes, but Chung Myung’s hand did not move at all, as though it were a massive slab of rock.
Beon Chung’s body was gradually collapsing, as if crushed beneath an eternal boulder.
THUD!
The knee that had been barely holding out suddenly buckled and slammed into the ground.
THUD!
The other knee followed just the same.
Cr-r-rk.
Even then, it seemed he still hadn’t given everything he had, because the two knees that had struck the ground began to burrow into the earth.
“Guhh……”
Chung Myung stepped forward and pressed Beon Chung down even harder.
Beon Chung’s body slowly started to bend backward. No matter how wildly he struggled, how much he raged, he couldn’t push Chung Myung back.
“H-how the hell is this… ghk…”
His waist twisted.
His limbs spread apart at random, and his body was crushed so hard that the back of his head nearly touched the ground. All Beon Chung could see was Chung Myung, grinning down at him while pushing his hands lower and lower with effortless ease.
Chung Myung chuckled and clicked his tongue as if he weren’t exerting much force at all.
“A mouse?”
“…….”
“What’s wrong? You’re weaker than a mouse.”
“…….”
This bastard is so petty…
Beon Chung’s face twisted. Chung Myung only grinned wider.
“This is what strength looks like. Like this. Now then—yaaah!”
BOOOOOM!
A violent storm of force burst outward, sending dust flying once more.
“Ack!”
“What, what was that?”
A massive cloud of dust rose up. The bandits held their breath and waited for it to clear.
Before long, the dust settled, and one figure emerged.
“Tsk.”
Chung Myung was casually brushing dust from his hands as he walked forward.
Everyone’s gaze followed him. More precisely, it went to what lay behind him.
“…….”
Beon Chung.
He was kneeling on the ground, his forehead pressed to the earth, foam bubbling from his mouth. He seemed to have lost consciousness.
“…….”
It was a truly pitiful sight. The bandits, speechless with shock, looked back and forth between Beon Chung and Chung Myung. No matter how many times they looked, the result did not change.
Chung Myung swept his eyes over them all and then curled his lips upward in triumph.
“Anyone else?”
“…….”
“No one?”
Chung Myung clicked his tongue.
“For a bunch of bandits, you sure have weak heads! Mount Hua would be more bandit-like than you lot! Mount Hua!”
Baek Cheon smiled with satisfaction as he watched his martial nephew stand there so proudly.
Chung Myung. You’re a Taoist.
A Taoist shouldn’t be bragging about that. Not that kind of thing, anyway…
He shook his head.
At any rate, it was the moment Mount Hua Divine Dragon Chung Myung took complete control of Daeho Fort without even drawing a sword.