Pride Makes the Blade Sharper (1)
"We won!"
"My God, Yoon Jong sahyung won!"
"He beat one of the Wudang Three Swords...!"
The disciples of Mount Hua sprang to their feet all at once, as if some boiling water had suddenly been poured over them.
They had won.
Whatever the form, Yoon Jong had come out victorious. If this had been a fight to the death, the outcome might have been different, but this was undeniably a spar. Within the bounds of a friendly duel, no one could belittle Yoon Jong’s victory.
"...He really won."
Even if Yoon Jong had lost and come down from the platform, the disciples of Mount Hua would have patted him on the shoulder. They had seen with their own eyes how desperately he had fought.
And yet, after giving it everything he had, he had even brought home a victory.
"What are you all standing around for?"
Baek Cheon could no longer hold back his laughter and shouted with a beaming face.
"Looks like his legs gave out and he can't even walk. Go up there and carry him down!"
"Yes, sahyung!"
"Yes, sasu!"
The disciples of Mount Hua swarmed up onto the duel platform. Two people would have been more than enough to help one man down, but expecting excited fools to think that far was impossible.
"Yoon Jong!"
"Sahyung!"
Seeing his martial siblings running toward him in a crowd, Yoon Jong laughed softly.
"Give me a hand. My legs went numb, so I can't move."
"What about internal injuries?"
"I'm fine."
At those words, everyone crowded in from both sides and practically hoisted Yoon Jong half off his feet. Then, with great dignity, they marched him down from the platform.
"Soso! Get sahyung...!"
"Hold on."
Yoon Jong patted the shoulders of the siblings who had immediately tried to go searching for Dang Soso. They stepped aside to both sides and carefully set him down.
Taking a heavy step, Yoon Jong stood before Hyun Sang.
"Elder. Fortunately... "
Hyun Sang did not even wait for him to finish before pulling him into a tight embrace.
"... "
"You worked hard. Truly, you worked hard."
At the elder's voice, trembling with emotion, Yoon Jong smiled faintly.
"...I earned my keep."
"Earned your keep, my ass! Do you sprinkle gold on your rice or something, you brat?"
Hyun Sang pulled Yoon Jong out of his arms and found his own eyes reddening.
He was not simply pleased. He was overwhelmed. Not because Yoon Jong had won. Not because he had displayed outstanding skill. It was the clarity of the resolve he had shown, the will carried in that sword, that moved him so deeply.
"Go get treated at once. You may still have internal injuries."
"Yes, Elder."
After reporting, Yoon Jong turned around. His eyes caught the Mount Hua Five Swords gathered together nearby.
Baek Cheon, looking pleased beyond measure; Yu I-seol, still expressionless but with emotion filling her as she clenched her fist hard; Jo Gul, who had pressed his lips together and looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment.
And...
"You understand this much, right?"
"... "
"If you'd fought ten times, you'd have lost nine."
"I know."
Even Chung Myung.
Yoon Jong nodded obediently at those words.
He felt it keenly himself. Mu Yeon’s skills were definitely above his own. He still fell short of him.
"But..."
Chung Myung grinned.
"You won, so that's enough."
"... "
"Hold your head up. Beating someone you could actually beat isn't anything to brag about. What you should really be proud of is beating someone you weren't supposed to beat. That was great, sahyung."
"...What kind of wind blew through and brought that out of you?"
Yoon Jong froze for a moment, genuinely thrown off by the unexpected praise from someone he had fully expected to mock him endlessly.
But only for a moment. Soon enough, a clear smile blossomed on his face as well.
This is victory.
Even when he had done well in the martial arts tournament, even when he had fought against the Ice Palace and gone through life-and-death battles with the Demonic Sect, he had never felt such a strange sense of accomplishment. It wrapped around his entire body like a current. Lost in that feeling, he slowly opened his mouth.
"I..."
"All done?"
At the voice from beside him, Yoon Jong’s gaze slowly turned.
Dang Soso had approached at some point and was standing there with a bright smile.
"If you're finished, let's go."
"...I suppose I have no choice."
Like a cow being dragged to the slaughterhouse, Yoon Jong followed her toward the back. The disciples of Mount Hua watched the sight and laughed.
But their eyes held more than joy and laughter. Whether junior brother or martial nephew, everyone had felt something from Yoon Jong’s showing.
"A sword that keeps going, huh."
Baek Cheon stared at Yoon Jong’s back and muttered to himself.
Honestly, I’m jealous.
That unwavering, upright will. That stubbornness.
Of course, he knew better than to harbor such thoughts.
But what was he supposed to do? That was honestly how he felt. He hurriedly tried to bury that faintly embarrassing jealousy and hide it away.
But then—
"Look at Dong-ryong's face. That, that."
"... "
Ah, that damn ghost.
Baek Cheon twisted his face and shot Chung Myung a filthy glare.
"Tch. Rich brats really are something else. Always wanting more and more."
"No, that's not it—!"
Baek Cheon flushed red and was about to protest when Chung Myung said in a low voice,
"Your job's your job, sahyung."
At that calm remark, Baek Cheon ended up clamping his mouth shut. Then he looked into Chung Myung’s eyes, let out a sigh, and gave in.
"That brat's mouth really is..."
He knew it. If Yoon Jong was the one who had to carry Mount Hua into the future, then Baek Cheon was the one who had to set the Mount Hua of today onto solid ground.
There was no way to say one mattered more than the other. Both were indispensable.
Baek Cheon quietly looked over the Cheong generation disciples. All of them were flushed with excitement over the victories of Jo Gul and Yoon Jong.
They saw hope.
Jo Gul had proved that rank and age were not everything, and Yoon Jong had shown that if you kept grinding yourself forward with determination, you could even surpass talent itself.
How could they not be excited?
"Those damned martial nephews..."
They had made the atmosphere like this before he even had a chance to step in. At this rate, even if he wanted to lose, he couldn't lose now, could he?
Both of them had been magnificent.
But he was their martial uncle. He still couldn't lose to those brats.
"Keep your eyes open, you little shits."
Baek Cheon tightened his grip on the Plum Blossom Sword and headed toward the platform. No, he tried to.
"You're going?"
Chung Myung’s languid voice stopped him. Baek Cheon answered as if it were obvious.
"We need to ride this momentum."
"That’s not a bad idea. But..."
"Hm?"
"I wonder if it'll go the way you think, sahyung."
Feeling a faint chill, Baek Cheon glanced at Chung Myung. Whenever this bastard said things like that, something utterly unexpected usually happened.
"Want to switch the order?"
"No, I mean..."
Chung Myung chuckled and shook his head.
"That wouldn't really mean much. Go ahead. Win beautifully first."
Baek Cheon stared at him blankly, not understanding a word of it.
If that was the case, why had he said anything at all?
"I'll be back then."
"Mm."
As Baek Cheon walked toward the platform with a slightly uncertain expression, Chung Myung smiled bitterly to himself.
You're not a famous sect because you're great. You're a famous sect because you keep winning.
Baek Cheon would realize that soon enough.
The first one to greet Mu Yeon after he stepped down from the duel platform was Heo Sanja. The glare he leveled at him was terrifyingly fierce.
Mu Yeon could not ignore it and stood before him. Heo Sanja had been staring at him as though he might bite his head off at any moment, and then he said through clenched teeth,
"You called it training?"
"... "
"This concerns the honor of the sect. Is your own personal satisfaction more important to you than the honor of the sect?"
His voice was practically a knife hidden in silk.
Mu Yeon was a first-generation disciple and a man skilled enough to be called one of the Wudang Three Swords, but he still could not simply ignore an elder's rage. He gave a short sigh and closed his eyes.
But when he opened them again, there was not a trace of wavering in his gaze.
"Elder. What meaning is there in honor gained that way?"
Heo Sanja's face twisted at the calm rebuttal.
"...What did you just say?"
Mu Yeon shook his head slightly and said,
"Honor has meaning only when it is obtained properly. To lose, then insist you won; to hide your own mistake and call that honor—how is that not more humiliating than being cursed for the fault itself?"
Heo Sanja's fury rose so high his face practically twitched.
But Mu Yeon kept speaking, steady as ever.
"I didn't step back because honor is unimportant. I stepped back because honor matters. If I concealed my mistake simply because others did not see it, how could I honestly call myself a disciple of Wudang?"
Heo Sanja glared at him, grinding his teeth, and said,
"Have you finished spouting nonsense?"
"Elder."
As the atmosphere turned ugly, Mu Jin stepped in quietly to restrain him.
"People are watching. Please calm yourself first."
"... "
"And as far as I can tell, Mu Yeon is not wrong."
"What did you say?"
"Those people did not fail to notice Mu Yeon’s mistake."
Even if they had all missed it, one person certainly had not.
The Mount Hua Divine Dragon.
There was no way Chung Myung had failed to see what Mu Jin had seen.
"If Mu Yeon had not backed down there, he might have suffered an even worse humiliation. Haven't we heard enough stories about people who underestimated Mount Hua and were made fools of?"
"You—!"
But Heo Sanja's anger did not subside in the least. Grinding his teeth, he snapped,
"How can you all be so foolish!"
Every last one of them was only mouthing righteous-sounding drivel.
How could they know anything?
That the morality they spoke of was really nothing more than a luxury born of comfort.
That the justice they praised ultimately came from strength.
A man struggling just to keep food in his mouth could not speak of morality, and a man without power could not speak of justice. They had no idea that everything they were prattling about so proudly came from their sect’s wealth and reputation.
They've become far too detached from the world.
To spend all day in a pure cultivation ground, sharpening the sword and seeking the Dao, sounded noble enough on the surface, but in the end it was no different from growing up in a greenhouse without ever enduring the storms outside.
Weaklings who only know how to speak boldly beneath the name of a famous sect paid for in blood by their ancestors.
Heo Sanja’s gaze turned cold.
He no longer felt any need to debate right and wrong with them. It was a pointless argument no matter how much they talked.
What mattered now was not what was right.
What mattered was that he had to bring back a result of victory. That was the intention and will of the sect leader who had sent him here.
"Elder. The next opponent is going up."
Heo Sanja turned a cold face toward the duel platform. Seeing Baek Cheon walking slowly from the opposite end, he barked in a frosty voice,
"Stay and reflect on your conduct."
"Yes, Elder."
The answer came, but Heo Sanja never once looked back at Mu Yeon. His eyes were fixed only on Baek Cheon, who was climbing onto the platform.
The Righteous Sword of Mount Hua, is it?
Excluding the Mount Hua Divine Dragon, Baek Cheon was known as the strongest among Mount Hua’s younger generation. Of course, he had not achieved the highest results at the previous martial arts tournament, but Heo Sanja knew very well that Baek Cheon had defeated Jin Geum-ryong of Southern Edge and had also made remarkable contributions in the recent Dae-byeol Bandit Band suppression.
More importantly...
Until now, the ones we faced were all third-generation disciples.
Though they were all called under the name of the Five Swords, the difference in generation could not be ignored. That Baek Cheon was surely a step above Jo Gul or Yoon Jong, who had appeared so far.
Baek Cheon walked to the center of the platform and calmly cupped his fist in salute.
"I am Baek Cheon, second-generation disciple of Mount Hua."
He gave Wudang a quick glance, then fixed his gaze on Mu Jin and said,
"I don't think I have the right to choose my opponent, but as a martial artist, I don't think it's something to be criticized if I have an opponent in mind. If it's not improper, I'd like to cross swords with Mu Jin daehyup."
The eyes of the Wudang disciples turned to Mu Jin.
It might have seemed arrogant for a second-generation disciple of Mount Hua to request a duel from a first-generation disciple of Wudang, but the situation had changed. Considering the performances the Mount Hua third-generation disciples had shown so far, and taking into account the standing the Righteous Sword held within Mount Hua, this request for a duel with Mu Jin did not seem unreasonable.
"Hm."
Mu Jin seemed to think so as well, lightly touching the Songmun ancient sword at his waist.
If he could not fight Chung Myung, then facing the strongest man available after him was surely what he should do.
"I'll accept that challe—"
That was when it happened.
"Wait."
Heo Sanja cut Mu Jin off with a cold voice. Though he spoke quietly, it somehow dug into everyone's ears with eerie clarity.