What You Gain, You Must Also Lose (3)
Martial artists were truly strange creatures.
Even when they knew an enemy stood right before them, baring his teeth and aiming for their throats, they would still be utterly distracted by the duel between absolute masters.
They couldn’t very well turn their heads, but their attention wasn’t on the foe in front of them so much as the contest unfolding far away.
The Mount Hua disciples were the same. So were the Blood Robes.
But it was the Blood Robes who noticed the change first.
What is this?
What the hell are these guys doing?
Since when had this begun?
Crack, crack, crack!
The extended sword was knocked back. Of course, that sort of thing had happened often throughout the battle, but something was different now.
Those who were actually crossing swords could feel it immediately. The rebound from their opponents’ blades was clearly not what it had been before.
What exactly changed…?
Until just a moment ago, the Mount Hua disciples had been like rampaging beasts. No—more accurately, they had been like wildcats driven mad by rage.
But those rough, chaotic swords began to grow heavier. They weren’t slowing down; they were becoming firmer, more solid, more grounded.
You can do this in the middle of a fight?
Of course, a sword was always changing. As long as martial arts did not remain stuck in place, a blade would change over the course of a lifetime.
But for a sword’s nature to change in the tiny span from the start of battle until now?
That was absurd.
Whoosh!
A Blood Robe gritted his teeth and drove his sword forward faster. But the Mount Hua disciples, who would have previously lashed out in panic, focusing only on speed, now began to parry with short, crisp strikes.
Yes. It was just like Chung Myung’s sword up ahead against Go Hong.
You damn bastards!
Of course, they couldn’t possibly be compared. The depths of that sword were terrifying to even look into.
And yet, shallow as they were, these swords were undeniably beginning to resemble Chung Myung’s.
You’re learning in front of us?
The Blood Robe’s face twisted horribly.
Was that not exactly what was happening?
Even now, they were learning from that sword. As if they possessed no stubborn ego whatsoever, the moment they saw something more correct, they immediately changed the nature of their own swords.
What kind of lunatics are these people?
Gooseflesh rose all over him.
Martial arts were built up, layer by layer.
However childish these brats might be, they had surely spent years building that martial foundation through grueling, bone-crushing practice.
A martial artist lived upon the foundation he had raised. To twist and reshape that foundation was a terrifying thing, even for a master who sought to redefine his own art.
And yet these people did it this easily?
No. That’s not it.
This wasn’t a matter of logic. It was a near-blind trust. A reckless faith that this direction could never be wrong, that this change could never be bad for them.
These insane bastards.
The one in front did not doubt that those fighting behind him would absorb his sword. Those following after did not hesitate in the slightest to accept that teaching in the middle of battle and make themselves better.
Where else in the world was there a sect crazy enough to do something like this?
Clang!
No matter how wildly he swung, it was useless.
Until just a moment ago, he could at least force his way through their defense and leave cuts on the bodies of the Mount Hua disciples, but now it was as if he had struck a steel wall. He could not break through even once.
Just as Chung Myung was blocking Go Hong’s storm-like blade, the Mount Hua disciples were also firmly and flawlessly blocking the swords of the Blood Robes.
And then—
Whoooosh!
A sword thrust out in a flash, slicing past the side of a flustered Blood Robe’s waist.
“Kh!”
It felt twice as fast as before.
But the Blood Robe knew better. Their swords had not become faster.
Perfect defense created perfect offense.
Now that they could defend properly, they had regained enough room to search for better, surer openings.
He understood that in his head, but understanding it was not the same as accepting it. How was he supposed to accept—much less acknowledge—that an opponent’s combat ability could double in the middle of a fight?
“You damn bastards!”
He shrieked and thrust his sword again in a frenzy, but the response was no longer the same.
The Mount Hua disciples, who seemed determined not to lose once the other side raised their voices first, only shouted louder and casually batted his sword aside. Then they fixed him with eyes that did not waver in the slightest.
That gaze began to weigh on the Blood Robes more and more.
Eyes with not even a sliver of doubt. Eyes only those who walked straight and unshaken, confident in their own path, could possess.
The swords of the Blood Robes began to lose momentum and grow dull.
Lower.
Keep the center.
Don’t be blinded by flash and speed.
This was not something brute force could solve.
Why had they forgotten?
In the end, a sword only had value when it had a center. It could be dazzling as it extended outward, but when defending, it had to be heavy, immovable.
They had been intoxicated by victory, drunk on growth, and had briefly forgotten the true essence of Mount Hua swordsmanship. Even though they had heard it over and over again.
One swing of the sword had taught them more than a thousand words ever could. The Mount Hua disciples, glancing sidelong at Chung Myung’s sword, looked solemn beyond measure.
Thud!
Baek Cheon stamped the ground, and the earth shuddered.
His heavily swung blade knocked away an incoming sword, then, changing momentum in an instant, flashed in like a phantom and buried the Blood Robe beneath a bloom of countless plum blossoms.
“Aaaargh!”
Defend heavily. Strike sharply.
This is it!
Something that had seemed just beyond his reach was now resting at his fingertips.
Whenever one wished to move forward, one had to return to the basics. It was a simple truth anyone could understand. But martial arts were such that no one could actually do it so easily.
Who did I think I was, trying to teach others?
Shame flooded him.
He was still on the road of learning himself, yet because he was a little further ahead, he had looked down on the other disciples. He had thought he could pass on everything he had gained.
But in that moment, Baek Cheon realized once more that what came first, above all else, was one’s own cultivation. No matter the reason, there could be no losing this path.
Whoosh!
His sword pierced the Blood Robe’s heart.
A person is led not by the mouth, but by the back. Teaching comes not from logic, but from the sword.
And Chung Myung was showing them exactly that now.
The other Five Swords, too, seemed to feel the same thing as Baek Cheon, and their sword strokes grew more serious.
Now…!
Baek Cheon shot like lightning toward the Blood Robes, whose faces were beginning to show bewilderment.
“You are no match for us!”
The Mount Hua disciples, carrying both caution and resolve in their hearts, answered that cry with their own swords.
BOOOOOOM!
Amid the storm of fierce blade aura, Chung Myung’s figure was as still as still could be.
No matter how many principles and interpretations one piled onto it, a sword was still just a sword in the end. Swing, thrust, block—that was all there was to it.
BOOM!
The side of the blade, descending like lightning toward his head, was lightly deflected by a sword that darted in on a straight line.
Clang!
With a shrill cry, the saber was sent flying at tremendous speed.
It came again at Chung Myung’s side, but slipped away off the slanted plane of his blade. When it struck again in a swift thrust, it was met by a sword that moved like lightning and was driven back once more.
With only the bare minimum of movement, with none of the unnecessary flourishes, Chung Myung was blocking every one of those wildly flying saber strikes.
“Khh….”
Cold sweat poured from Go Hong’s body like rain. His dantian throbbed as if he’d been stabbed with a giant needle, and his heart felt as though it might burst at any moment.
The sequence of attacks he had unleashed while nearly holding his breath was stripping the saber user’s stamina with brutal efficiency.
And yet he could not stop.
If the saber halted, his defeat would be certain. Having burned through every bit of his stamina and inner power, he would never again be able to unleash a slash like this.
So he had to settle this with this chain of attacks, no matter what.
A coppery taste rose in his mouth, and one by one, his blood vessels burst under the strain of blood surging through him at nearly twice its usual pressure.
Blood streamed from his nose, but before it could even reach the ground, it evaporated in the heat and wind pressure of the saber.
Fall… Please fall! Fall!
But no matter how wildly he swung and struggled, the opponent in front of him remained there. He received every one of the incoming slashes perfectly, with an eerie, chilling gaze.
Go Hong’s whole body erupted in gooseflesh.
It was fear. It was awe.
Why!
His muscles began to tear.
Why won’t you go down?
His strength gave out. His knees buckled. Power drained from the saber.
“Why!!!”
Go Hong, pouring every last drop of strength into his saber, finally unleashed his all-out finishing blow.
It was the most perfect strike he had ever delivered in his life, as though nothing else could compare to it.
Spirit, flesh, and inner power had become one. After a brief silence, terrifying saber aura gathered around his blade.
“HRAAAAAAAAH!”
His final strike, having bet everything on it, came crashing down with a ferocity that seemed intent on cleaving Chung Myung in two.
And in that instant, Chung Myung’s calm bearing changed entirely.
Flash!
Killing intent, so fierce it seemed to sear the skin, erupted upward. Wearing that strange smile, Chung Myung launched himself directly at Go Hong’s descending saber.
Wooooong—
The Dark Fragrance Plum Blossom Sword sang in response to his will, and then it began to bloom—dozens, hundreds of red plum blossoms unfurling in an instant.
What?
The saber, carrying the power to split the earth itself, crashed down into the forest of blossoms.
Crack, crack, crack, crack!
The petals touched the blade, twisting and being crushed. It seemed impossible, from the start, that the delicate, fluttering Maehwageomgi could stop Go Hong’s waterfall-like saber.
And yet—
Where the crushed plum blossoms vanished, new ones bloomed in their place.
Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art, Gradually Blooming Plum Blossoms.
No matter how powerful Go Hong’s saber was, it could not crush every one of the hundreds, even thousands, of blossoms blooming before him.
The saber aura, harder than steel, began to be worn down bit by bit. The blade that had seemed ready to topple Mount Tai quickly lost its force and was twisted apart, buried beneath the blooming plum blossoms.
Whoosh!
Then, all at once, the rising flow of blossoms coiled around Go Hong’s saber and lifted it skyward.
Claaang!
The saber split in half, and the blade flew up into the air.
Whoosh!
Amid the scattering blossoms, Chung Myung revealed himself like an illusion. With a cold gaze, he drove straight toward Go Hong’s chest.
Thuuuk!
A horrifying sound rang out.
Go Hong slowly looked down at his chest. Where his heart should have been, a white blade was buried nearly to the hilt. He was almost relieved that he couldn’t see the edge of the sword sticking out through his back.
“Kugh!”
Thud.
His iron-tower of a body swayed.
Each step he took backward with difficulty drew the blade out little by little, and fresh blood surged out in thick gushes.
“Th-this can’t… be….”
Blood began bubbling up into his mouth as well. When Go Hong opened his mouth to speak, crimson froth spilled out in a torrent.
“T-this can’t be… He clearly… said there were no enemies… in Mount Hua….”
Go Hong could not finish.
His mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound would come anymore.
Chung Myung watched him for a moment, then silently approached. Go Hong’s faint voice drifted out, as though it could vanish at any second.
“...I… am….”
Whoosh.
Slash!
At last, Go Hong’s severed head shot into the air. His headless body lurched, then crashed to the ground like a rotten old tree coming down.
BOOOOM!
Chung Myung stared indifferently at the fallen Go Hong for a moment, then said in a low voice, “Talent’s a luxury for someone who doesn’t keep working.”
He’d learned that lesson with his life. Not a bad trade.