The Sword That Would Represent Mount Hua (4)
His fingertips felt as if they were about to shatter.
No— it wasn’t just his fingertips.
His entire upper body, from his arms to his shoulders, ached as though someone had hung a heavy bronze bell from him.
And that was before the sword aura had even reached the tip of Yoon Jong’s blade.
It was truly an overwhelming force, one that had to be described as terrifying, its momentum so imposing that it nearly inspired fear.
The pressure bearing down on Yoon Jong was unlike anything he had ever experienced when facing other experts.
It really is different.
Strong as it was, it still couldn’t compare to the Bishop of the Demonic Sect. The Bishop’s power had been so immense it would not have been an exaggeration to call it a natural disaster.
But if there was one difference…
I have to endure this one by myself.
This was nothing like fighting with Chung Myung at his side. No Jo Gul bracing his back, no Baek Cheon and Yu I-seol guiding him forward. This battle was his alone.
Victory or defeat would belong entirely to Yoon Jong.
So I can’t lose!
Wooooooooong!
The inner energy surging up from his dantian coursed through his blood vessels and spread across his whole body. Ever since the day he had taken the Liquid Sky Essence and the Jaso-dan, Yoon Jong had been working relentlessly to make that energy truly his own.
The fruit of all that effort now gathered at the tip of his sword.
Shaaaaaaak!
The instant the incoming sword aura met his blade, it split left and right.
“Kh—!”
A groan burst from Yoon Jong’s throat before he could stop it.
His arm felt as if it might snap at any moment.
It was like standing in the middle of a raging river and swinging a sword as though he could split the oncoming current. From the beginning, such a thing should have been impossible. And yet he had to make the impossible possible.
If it were Jo Gul, what would he do?
There was no need to think. He would probably dodge the surging force like a flying squirrel, just as he had shown a moment ago, then drive his sword into the opponent’s opening.
Yoon Jong didn’t have the instinct to catch that one fleeting gap and bet everything on a single strike.
Crack. Crack.
The bones in his wrist groaned. The sword felt as heavy as if a boulder-sized chunk of iron were tied to it.
If it were Sasuk, what would he do?
That answer was equally obvious.
For Baek Cheon, retreat was not an option. He would have charged straight through the sword aura crashing toward him like a flood, meeting force with force and pushing forward all the same.
Like some hero out of a story.
But Yoon Jong did not possess that kind of iron strength, nor that kind of genius.
“Cough!”
Something hot surged up his throat.
Somewhere inside, unable to bear the pressure, a vessel had burst and started bleeding. The coppery stink of blood hit his nose.
I don’t have that.
Yoon Jong’s gaze sank.
If it were Yu I-seol, she wouldn’t even let a slow sword aura like this touch her body. She’d cut through the path while avoiding it, with all that daring of hers.
Chung Myung? If it were that bastard, he would probably smash the top of the other man’s head in with the sword’s scabbard before the sword had even finished rising.
But Yoon Jong did not have that.
None of those dazzling talents.
His eyes flicked sideways. Even while struggling just to withstand the oncoming force, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He did not know how to ignore the third-generation disciples staring at him with such desperate hope.
So what exactly are you telling me to do?
Should he just lie facedown on the ground because he lacked talent and watch helplessly as geniuses ran wild?
What a joke.
“I have!”
He gritted his teeth and drove his energy higher.
“My own way!”
People could not, in the end, stand against a waterfall or block a surging river.
That was why, to Baek Cheon’s eyes, Yoon Jong looked so terribly precarious at that moment.
Baek Cheon’s expression had hardened as he watched, and just as he unconsciously started to step forward, Chung Myung shot out a hand and clamped down hard on his arm.
Baek Cheon flinched and turned.
“Just watch for once, you genius bastard.”
“…….”
Even then, Chung Myung’s gaze never left Yoon Jong for a single moment. Baek Cheon said irritably,
“Aren’t you being far too reckless? Trying to meet that power head-on….”
“It’s okay for Sasuk, but not for Sahaeng?”
“Why do you always—”
“Because that’s what you’re thinking.”
Baek Cheon fell silent, words dying in his throat.
In truth, he knew it too. If he were the one standing on the platform, he would absolutely try to pierce straight through that force. It was the surest path to victory.
But…
Am I really looking down on Yoon Jong?
Chung Myung caught the seriousness that had settled on Baek Cheon’s face and let out a faint snort.
“No need to get so dramatic over a joke.”
“…….”
“It’s natural to think that way. For you, it’s still a heavy burden.”
“Then why?”
“Because Yoon Jong Sahaeng is the one who has to carry that burden forward.”
“…….”
After a moment’s thought, Baek Cheon asked with a rigid face,
“Why must he do that? Surely I can help. The others can help too. I understand what you meant, but this….”
“No. Sasuk doesn’t understand.”
Chung Myung shook his head.
“Sasuk is the one who’s supposed to make Mount Hua’s name thunder across the world. He’s the one who should shine the brightest.”
“I….”
“But your sword can’t be carried forward by others.”
The reason was simple.
Baek Cheon was a genius.
It didn’t even have to be the kind of talent that could shake the world. Just being a little ahead of everyone else was enough to disqualify him.
“Help?”
“Yes.”
“Could the people over there fully understand Sasuk’s sword and follow it?”
“…….”
Baek Cheon’s eyes turned toward where Chung Myung had jerked his chin. There, the third-generation disciples were gathered, staring at Yoon Jong with eyes full of desperate longing.
Baek Cheon couldn’t answer right away.
He had been training the second- and third-generation disciples steadily, but in the end, what he had taught them was limited to foundations, physical conditioning, and sparring. He had never truly passed on a proper sword style.
Why?
On the surface, because Un Geom and Chung Myung were there at Mount Hua.
But Baek Cheon knew in his heart that was only an excuse. He couldn’t properly teach them. Their innate talent and understanding were simply different.
“Sasuk can’t do it, Sago can’t do it, and even Jo Gul Sahaeng can’t do it. I can only scold them and ask why they can’t do something so easy. I’ll never understand, not in my whole life, how people with ordinary talent learn the sword.”
“……So you’re saying it can’t be carried forward?”
“Exactly. More precisely, it mustn’t be.”
Chung Myung cut him off in a cool voice.
“A sect’s martial arts have to be tailored to the disciple with the poorest understanding among those who enter. Martial arts that only geniuses can learn will lose their line and disappear someday.”
“…….”
“A renowned sect isn’t a place that raises geniuses. A renowned sect is one that turns ordinary people into experts. Only such a place can survive the current of history.”
The most important thing in a sect was not producing geniuses.
It was raising ordinary people who entered with no special gifts.
The current structure of Mount Hua was grotesquely distorted. To raise skill quickly and restore their reputation in a short time, Chung Myung had focused on strengthening the Mount Hua Five Swords.
It was obvious that making the talented stronger was important, but there was always a backlash to such a choice.
Among them, is there really anyone who has the will to defeat Sasuk?
Probably not. They would think, from the start, that they were simply born differently.
Neither Baek Cheon nor Yu I-seol, and even less Jo Gul, could serve as a benchmark for them. Their methods were far too different.
For those people, Yoon Jong was the one who could become hope.
The one with no particularly dazzling talent, yet called by the name of one of the Five Swords. The one who had endured every treacherous step of the Five Swords’ journey alongside them without possessing any remarkable advantage.
Plain, unflashy, never shining brilliantly—just someone who fulfilled his role by enduring.
And that was why…
He shines more than anyone.
The answer to how to fill in lacking talent was right there. The guidepost for those who felt their own inadequacy was right there.
The ones who brought glory to a sect’s name were geniuses, but the one who led the sect forward could never be a genius.
Jangmunjijae.
The one who would become the sect leader had to be someone capable of leading people in that way.
That was why, despite how strong Chung Myung had once been, no one at Mount Hua had ever tried to place him in the position of sect leader.
That seat had rightly belonged to Chung Mun.
The sect leader’s place was for the one who could become a beacon for those who followed.
“Do you know what Yoon Jong Sahaeng’s biggest flaw is?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s that he understands too much.”
“……What the hell does that mean?”
Instead of answering, Chung Myung simply looked at Yoon Jong.
He knows too well the things he should be allowed not to know.
Yoon Jong already understood everything. That only he could show the others the way. And that his defeat would be no different from the defeat of the other disciples.
The burden on those shoulders was likely even heavier than the one Baek Cheon bore while carrying Mount Hua at the front.
Endure it.
A flicker of pity crossed Chung Myung’s eyes.
This was one thing even he could not fix. It was something Chung Myung had never done himself, something he could not do.
This was something Yoon Jong had to accomplish entirely on his own.
“There’s no need to worry.”
Then Jo Gul, who had been silently watching Yoon Jong the whole time, spoke with firm certainty.
“Sahyung won’t lose.”
Jo Gul knew Yoon Jong best of all. And Jo Gul, with unwavering eyes, watched the platform as he said,
“He’s not the kind of sahyung who would lose to something like this.”
It wasn’t reason, but faith. Still, for once, Chung Myung wanted to believe it too.
When a powerful force came crashing down, you didn’t meet it head-on—you let it flow past, or you dodged it.
Easy to say.
That was a method only the clever and nimble could choose. He had no choice but to withstand it with everything he had.
But still—
I can endure. I can definitely endure.
His feet clamped to the ground harder than the roots of a giant tree; his lower body braced his frame with unshakable firmness. His waist remained straight, preserving the power drawn up from the earth, while his upper body relaxed, allowing the surging force to pass through as much as possible.
Yes. Like a single tree. Like the plum trees blooming on Mount Hua.
So that was it.
He understood it all at once.
What the senior disciples had stressed so relentlessly as the basics. What that bastard Chung Myung had hammered into his ears until they nearly bled.
I’m a Daoist.
A Daoist was one who came to resemble nature.
Simply following the teaching that guided him, there would come a moment when he became a tree, when he became part of nature itself.
That was the teaching Mount Hua had accumulated over hundreds of years, the voice it passed down faithfully to its disciples.
I know.
His fellow disciples were watching his back now.
But no convenient miracle would occur simply because those watching believed in him. Faith was faith; strength was strength.
This was a battle he had to endure alone.
Crack. Crk.
The little finger that had been clinging stubbornly to the sword’s hilt finally twisted in a grotesque direction and fell away. The pressure felt like it might crush his whole body.
Something I want to say to them?
There was nothing.
He was already struggling just to keep his own body in order. What right did he have to lecture them or teach them anything?
All he could do was struggle.
Desperately, drawing out every last drop of strength he had left!
Even if a fierce typhoon swept over the mountain and tore through it, snapping branches and stripping away every blossom, the roots buried deep in the earth would keep reaching endlessly onward.
That was how trees survived.
How many trees were there in the plum blossom forest? Taken one by one, they were not especially beautiful, nor did they bear flowers of singular splendor. But when they all bloomed together at once, the mountain turned crimson and at last became a magnificent sight.
Crack!
Even his ring finger twisted and broke.
The pain was vivid, but Yoon Jong’s expression did not change in the slightest.
“Spread.”
And then, at last.
At the tip of the plum tree branches that had been swaying as though they might snap in the typhoon, a faint red plum blossom began to bloom, quiet and small.