A Man Who Draws His Sword Should Aim for the Neck, at Least! (1)
At the center of the bandit camp, row after row of bound bandits knelt on the ground.
With their martial arts crippled, their faces were filled with the kind of loss and terror that made it seem as if life itself had been stolen from them.
For a martial artist, losing one’s martial arts was, in some sense, a punishment worse than death. But Hyun Sang had no intention of showing them mercy.
They’re bandits who’ve been feeding off the blood of common people anyway.
There were those who learned martial arts and used them to help the world, and those who learned martial arts only to become a blight upon it.
In his eyes, these men were clearly the latter.
Trying to reform such people with half-baked teaching often produced results worse than never beginning at all. It was better to make an example of a few and cut off future trouble at the root.
“How are the children?”
“There are a few with minor injuries, but none of them are seriously hurt.”
“Hmm!”
Hyun Sang gave a deep nod.
Even with the difference in skill, in a melee of this scale it was not uncommon for a stray blade to take a life.
But fortunately, that did not seem to have happened this time.
Mount Hua had truly become strong.
If this had been Mount Hua before Chung Myung came along, it would never have been able to handle even one of the smaller camps near the bottom of the Green Forest hierarchy, let alone Red Wolf Bandit Band.
But now, they could clear out a camp ranked high among the seventy-two bands of the Green Forest without taking any casualties. The fact that this change had happened in only a few short years made just how terrifyingly fast they had grown all the more astonishing.
“You’ve all worked hard.”
“Not at all, Elder!”
“This much is nothing!”
The disciples seemed to be thinking the same thing.
They were holding their shoulders as still as they could, but their flushed faces were bursting with irrepressible pride.
However…
In all that, everyone had forgotten one thing. There was a demon here, and that demon could never bear to watch a heartwarming sight without spoiling it.
“What, you’re puffing your chests out over something like this? All you did was beat up a bunch of bandits.”
At that cold splash of water, Mount Hua’s disciples turned to Chung Myung with sullen faces.
But he only jutted his belly out even more, shameless as ever.
“What? Why? Did I say something wrong?”
“...That bastard wouldn’t bleed even if you stabbed him with a needle.”
“He always has to ruin the mood, always!”
Chung Myung clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Since when did Mount Hua become some pathetic little place that gets all smug just because it beat up a few bandits? If our ancestors saw this, they’d probably explode from anger and come back from the dead!”
- I’m not one of them. I’m not!
“Ah, can you keep it down over there?”
“...Who’s making noise?”
Everyone sighed at Chung Myung, who was spouting incomprehensible nonsense.
“Hmph.”
And yet, even after being scolded, the disciples still could not quite hide their excitement. Some were trying to suppress grins, while others were smiling openly despite themselves.
In the end, Chung Myung snorted a laugh.
Of course they’d be happy.
Victory was a far more valuable experience than anything else.
Of course, there were lessons to be learned from defeat as well, but right now, gaining confidence from victory mattered more than anything.
The disciples of Mount Hua had always carried a subtle sense of defeat.
Because they had spent so long never having their talent acknowledged, they had no choice but to feel a faint inferiority toward those who were recognized and taken into the great sects.
The best way to shake that off is still to go and do something they’d never dare to do.
Reputation was important, of course, but if he could use this to plant some confidence in them at the same time, that was even better.
And they’ll gain experience too.
The greatest benefit of this battle was that it had given the entire force of Mount Hua their first real experience in fighting as a coordinated group. In times as peaceful as these, simply getting such experience was a tremendous advantage.
Eventually, the day would definitely come when they had to fight this way again.
In that sense, this had been a battle that yielded a great deal…
But still. Somehow.
“Heh heh.”
“Ehehehe.”
“Hoooh. We’re stronger than we thought.”
“Heh, whether it’s Wudang or whatever, it’s nothing special!”
“Hahahahaha!”
“...“
Watching the senior and junior disciples grin stupidly in excessive delight made something twist unpleasantly in his gut.
“You’re happy?”
“Hahahahaha. Of course! Obviously.”
“You’re happy, are you?”
“...Huh?”
The disciples, who had been smiling broadly, slowly shut their mouths in awkward confusion at Chung Myung’s words.
“You’re that happy, huh?”
As Chung Myung asked with a bright smile, unease began to creep over Mount Hua’s disciples.
“Then you should be even happier!”
“Huh?”
“Where did you say the next camp was?”
Huh?
Chung Myung?
Yang Kwe, the leader of Blood Wolf Bandit Band known as Blood-Seeking Wolf, stared with bulging eyes at the scene unfolding before him.
What the…?
It felt as if a mountain were rolling toward him.
Not a grand, craggy mountain, but one covered in blooming flowers.
“Aaaagh!”
“W-what the hell are these bastards!”
His men were being swept away by that mountain and crumbling helplessly.
“...”
Yang Kwe swallowed hard.
Where did it all go wrong?
The moment he spotted Im So-byeong standing behind the advancing Mount Hua fighters, cold sweat began to pour down Yang Kwe’s back.
His always-sickly face looked healthier than ever today.
Was all that talk about him being bedridden with some severe illness a lie? Was everything just a scheme to reel us in?
There was no way to tell what was true and what was false.
Fine. No, that much was still understandable.
But what truly tormented him was not Im So-byeong. It was the tragedy unfolding right in front of him.
A pale-faced youngster with an utterly serious, almost solemn expression was stepping forward, while the other youngsters around him desperately clung to him and tried to stop him.
“No, Sasuk, you’ve already fought plenty! Why are you trying to take everything that comes into view?”
“Then I—”
“Sago! You already wiped out one bastard clean today! Please, show some restraint, some restraint!”
“You fought that Yacha Hall bastard too!”
“That one doesn’t count!”
“...”
As Yang Kwe listened to the exchange, he trembled.
So right now… um… so…
Are those youngsters fighting over who gets to deal with me?
Then, from behind them, a bald monk who had been dressed differently from the others snuck forward—only to have someone grab him by the top of his head. Yang Kwe could not take it anymore and roared.
“You filthy bastards, do you even know who I am?”
“Ah, mister, you’re out!”
“Just wait there a second! We’re almost done deciding!”
“...”
Yang Kwe’s shoulders sagged.
The ones bickering among themselves suddenly shouted some more, and then, at last, one of them stepped forward as if a decision had been made.
Slender eyes.
A daoist topknot neatly tied up.
“...”
Compared to the others, who were so bizarre he couldn’t tell whether they were daoists or street thugs, this one at least looked properly like a daoist. He stepped forward and gave a light clasped-hand salute.
“I am Yoon Jong, the third-generation disciple of Mount Hua. I ask for your guidance—”
“Yoon Jong! This is a real fight!”
“...Come on, bandit.”
Yang Kwe immediately revised his judgment.
Fine, so much for looking like a daoist. This bastard was crazy too.
Clenching the handle of his massive crescent blade, Yang Kwe ground his teeth and charged at Yoon Jong.
“I’ll teach you some manners!”
A little later, Yoon Jong calmly wiped the sweat from his forehead and bowed politely.
“I have learned well.”
But the man who should have answered him was already unconscious.
No, asking whether he was conscious or not was pointless. Someone beaten into a bloody pulp like that wouldn’t be able to answer properly even if they were awake.
Jo Gul, Yu I-seol, and Baek Cheon would willingly take risks if it meant toppling an opponent when they had the chance.
But Yoon Jong never strayed from the proper path. He never overreached, and he repeated only the safest attacks again and again.
If this had been a spar where the opponent could recognize his own shortcomings and step back, it would have been a remarkably straight and proper sword. But in a life-and-death fight where retreat was impossible, the scene looked almost like a cat playing with a mouse.
No matter how many cuts he inflicted, Yang Kwe could not surrender, so Yoon Jong simply kept attacking until blood loss stole his consciousness. And this was the result.
Yoon Jong turned with a faintly pleased expression.
“We have defeated the enemy leader… What’s with those faces?”
But seeing the reaction was different from what he had expected, he truly sounded puzzled. Baek Cheon and the others, watching him with exhausted expressions, all shook their heads at once.
“...That’s brutal.”
“Good heavens, how can someone beat another person until he looks like that?”
“...I had no idea being faithful to the basics could be this terrifying.”
It almost seemed kinder to kill him quickly.
Still, that’s Yoon Jong’s terrifying side.
Baek Cheon looked from Yang Kwe to Yoon Jong and thought to himself.
Someone who has spent a year training only the downward slash cannot beat someone who has learned all sorts of techniques from the beginning. But if he trains that one downward slash long enough, no technique in the world can withstand it.
Everyone knew that. But no one would dare try it.
Think about it. Who could possibly devote themselves so steadily to something as monotonous as a single downward cut?
Yoon Jong was the one who could.
Not flashy, not unusual, but a sword utterly faithful to the fundamentals.
Strictly speaking, if one looked only at the present, the weakest of the Five Swords was, no matter what anyone said, Yoon Jong. His martial arts did not even reach Jo Gul’s level.
But…
If ten years pass, and then twenty, maybe that bastard will end up the strongest among us.
It was a strange thing.
Baek Cheon, Yu I-seol, Yoon Jong, and Jo Gul.
None of them resembled one another in the slightest; each had a distinct personality. Not only their characters, but even though they had learned the same things, the texture of their swordsmanship was different for each of them.
And yet they were all growing stronger in their own ways. Different, yet the same; the same, yet different.
And not only them…
Baek Cheon’s gaze shifted toward the rear.
Mount Hua’s main force, led by Hyun Sang and Un Geom, was mopping up the bandits in a one-sided rout.
Watching the power contained in their swords, one could only nod in recognition.
If one counted the small battle in Changsha as well, they had only fought three times in total. But through those three battles, the swords of Mount Hua’s disciples were developing by leaps and bounds.
Baek Cheon quietly looked at Chung Myung, who was squatting in a corner as if none of this had anything to do with him, calmly breaking up fried rice crackers and feeding them to Baek Ah.
Honestly, that guy...
- What? Mount Hua is weak? What a joke! Mount Hua isn’t weak, you’re the weak ones!
Baek Cheon couldn’t help but laugh.
Ever since he had met that bastard, his world had changed completely.
After glancing at Chung Myung for a moment longer, Baek Cheon took a slow breath and said, “All right. Then shall we clean this up?”
“If we’re going to deal with that Dae-byeol Bandit Band or whatever, we’d better hurry.”
“Right.”
Nodding, he walked toward the bandits who were still resisting.
“But didn’t Chung Myung say not to help with the other bandits? Is it all right if we go now?”
“Wouldn’t it be enough if we just stood nearby with our swords out and glared at them?”
“...Good grief.”
The Five Swords, excluding Chung Myung, drew their swords and walked toward the bandits.
And then.
Before even half a day had passed, both bandit camps had been completely cleared out by Mount Hua’s hands. They began advancing toward the last remaining Dae-byeol Bandit Band.