Pride Makes the Blade Sharper (5)
“…….”
There was no better word for the situation than shock.
The Wudang disciples watching the bout had all been robbed of speech. Every one of them stared at Baek Cheon with vacant, stunned eyes.
He copied it?
No, that was not something you could dismiss as mere imitation.
He had, quite literally, understood it.
The method and execution might have been different, but the profound subtleties of Wudang’s swordsmanship were all there, perfectly intact, within that one strike.
How in the world…
It was shocking in every sense of the word.
The three defeats they had already suffered had been shocking enough, but those losses had, in truth, been little more than Hua Mountain’s fortunate breaks. If they fought again, Wudang at least still had a chance of dragging the result to a point where victory and defeat could not be clearly foretold.
But not now. Baek Cheon was completely overwhelming Mu O.
And he was doing it with a sword style that was not even his own specialty—he was wielding Wudang’s own mysteries against them.
When…?
Heo Sanja’s brow twitched.
When did Hua Mountain get this far?
The bouts up to now had been more than enough to make it clear that Hua Mountain was chasing after them. But the sight before him now made something else equally clear: Hua Mountain had somehow ended up standing behind them without anyone noticing.
If he exaggerated only a little, it almost felt as if the sword in Baek Cheon’s hand were already pressed against Heo Sanja’s throat.
A genius.
Could that one word really explain everything?
Heo Sanja knew the emptiness hidden inside the label “genius.”
How many people in this world were born with talent?
There were countless who distinguished themselves before the age of twenty. But once they passed that mark, more than half of those early stars became ordinary, and by the time they reached forty, hardly a handful remained.
In the end, talent was not everything, even if one was born with it. If that talent never met the right environment to be honed and made to shine, then even someone who had been gifted with heaven-sent brilliance would end their life as nothing more than a common man.
That child could not possibly have been this level before.
He had performed well at the tournament, yes, but the ones who had truly risen to fame back then were Hye Yeon and Chung Myung, just those two. Baek Cheon had been outstanding, certainly, but in the end he had only been an average talent standing in the shadow of those two overwhelming figures.
And yet that talent, which had never truly been allowed to shine, was now in full bloom.
What in the world did he go through?
It was impossible, by common sense, for hidden talent to suddenly blossom like this. Something must have happened to him over that short span of time.
But no matter how hard Heo Sanja searched his mind, he could not even guess at the cause.
Could Mu Jin have beaten that boy?
He had dismissed the thought at the time, believing there was no way such a thing could matter, and had pulled Mu Jin back to avoid even the slightest possibility of disaster. But now, watching this, Heo Sanja realized with relief that his choice had been nothing short of correct.
Seventy percent.
No matter how strong Mu Jin was, he could not guarantee more than a seventy percent chance of victory against Baek Cheon. And a seventy percent chance meant, in plain terms, that one out of three fights would be lost. But who could say that the one loss would not be this one?
Hua Mountain…
Heo Sanja felt it in his bones now. Hua Mountain Sect was no longer a place they could dismiss as a mere eyesore.
Mu O’s face was filled with emotions too tangled to name.
Humiliation, anger, shock, fear, and then frustration, defiance, and a stubborn refusal to yield.
If one looked closely, there were likely even more feelings hiding there. His voice came out low, as if scraped from the back of his throat.
“……Not bad, you say?”
Wudang’s sword?
To speak of Wudang’s sword, which was meant to overawe the world, and call it merely not bad?
Grit.
His teeth ground together of their own accord.
He could endure being dismissed himself. But to have his sect’s sword belittled—he could never accept that.
“You arrogant bastard….”
The rough words slipped out, completely unlike a Wudang Daoist. But Baek Cheon only met him with calm, unwavering eyes.
“I’m not looking down on Wudang’s sword.”
“And yet you dare speak such foolish words?”
“I only feel sorry for it.”
“…….”
Watching Mu O, who seemed unable to trust even what he heard, Baek Cheon said without a tremor, “A sword seeks to become like water, yet those who wield the sword try to defy the natural order. How could I not pity it?”
“…….”
Mu O could not answer. His hand clenched around his sword, trembling violently.
…Elder.
This was exactly why one should not choose a path that ignored the natural order. Even here—when his sect’s sword was being dismissed and the work of his entire life was being devalued—he could not even find a single word to defend himself.
Because Wudang had clearly tried to go against the natural way and seize gain for itself. The man standing before him now was the proof of that.
“A sword sect’s sword isn’t something you judge by technique alone.”
Baek Cheon, almost absentmindedly, glanced sideways at Chung Myung.
Seeing that bastard sitting however he pleased, as if the life of the sect depended on this bout, all while yawning like it was somebody else’s problem, made him give a dry, incredulous laugh.
“A sect’s sword symbolizes that sect. That’s why Shaolin’s fists are weighty, Mount Qingcheng’s swords are swift, and Wudang’s sword is supposed to be gentle, isn’t that right?”
“…….”
“The future of a place that twists and muddles its own true intent is obvious enough.”
Only now did Baek Cheon truly understand Chung Myung.
In the past, he had never understood Chung Myung’s subtle efforts to help Yi Song-baek of Southern Edge. Southern Edge was Hua Mountain’s enemy, and Yi Song-baek was a disciple of Southern Edge. So why would he help someone like that?
But looking at Mu O now, he thought he understood.
He understood the feeling of watching a famed orthodox sect fail to hold onto what it was meant to protect and drift off course.
This had nothing to do with whether he liked or disliked Wudang. It was the sorrow of a martial artist.
“You’re quite full of yourself,” Mu O snapped.
But it seemed the words had truly enraged him, because he ground his teeth and continued, “You may be right. But you are arrogant. Even if you are right, to be so certain that your own words are unquestionably correct—that is arrogance.”
“…….”
“What is wrong with listening to the decisions of the elders of the sect, men who have thought more deeply and experienced more than you?”
Baek Cheon could not hold back the frustration in his chest and let out a quiet sigh.
It was not entirely wrong. A disciple should trust his master. Even if the disciple thought otherwise, if he could not trust the master’s judgment, discord would inevitably follow.
But—
“If there’s one thing Hua Mountain is different from Wudang in,” he said, “it’s that we’re not afraid of off-key voices.”
That was Hua Mountain.
No matter which disciple voiced a complaint or raised his voice to say something was wrong, it did not spiral into disaster. Everyone listened even to the smallest voice, and no one doubted that another had the right to speak.
Yes. That was Hua Mountain.
Baek Cheon let out a small laugh.
How ridiculous.
He himself had once tried to suppress Chung Myung with his generation rank and authority when they first met. When that failed, he had even tried to judge Chung Myung by force.
Compared with the suffocatingly rigid man he had been back then, Mu O was, in fact, a far more open person.
But the view changed when the position changed.
Now, Baek Cheon felt suffocated looking at Mu O. Suffocated by the man’s blind, uncompromising faith.
“In any case, this isn’t something that’ll be settled through conversation.”
Baek Cheon lowered his sword.
“Come. A swordsman should prove himself with his sword. I’ll show you that my words were not wrong.”
Mu O’s face twisted miserably.
The distance between the duel platform and the audience seats was not all that great. Most likely, the spectators had heard every word of their exchange.
Mu O had, against his will, been put in the position of having to prove that Wudang’s choice had not been wrong. Even if that was not truly the case, the audience watching now would all think so.
That cunning bastard…
Mu O bit down hard on his lip. It was too late to try to settle things with words now. Doing so would only reveal his own weakness.
In the end, he too had no choice but to prove with the sword in his hand that he was not wrong.
And that was the fate of anyone who took up a sword and stepped into the jianghu.
“Huuuu.”
Mu O drew in a long breath and tightened his grip on the sword.
Gaining the upper hand in close combat is impossible.
He did not know why, but Baek Cheon was unnaturally accustomed to close-range fighting. As if he had fought countless real battles where blades met blades and swords collided against swords.
That meant the strategy he had been certain would win was already broken.
Then what should he do?
Obvious, isn’t it?
He would have to fall back on his specialty.
Mu O moved his sword slowly. From the tip, blue sword qi began to pour out violently.
If flowers bloom anywhere, I’ll sweep them all away together.
Go on, try to cut it.
I’ll prove that even a severed sword qi can remain just as fierce!
Now resolved, Mu O’s sword qi resembled an enraged wave. It differed in nature from the calm, lofty current of Wudang’s usual sword qi. It was closer to a filthy torrent rushing forward in a storm.
The terrifying momentum within it made it seem, at first glance, even stronger and more explosive than what Mu Yeon had shown.
But Baek Cheon, watching the sword qi surge toward him, hardened his expression and let out a sigh.
So this is it, in the end?
No matter what he said, it seemed nothing would change. Wudang’s sword was built upon composure and dignity. To surrender oneself to a burst of anger and unleash rough, violent sword qi was, in the end, to abandon that foundation.
On the surface it looked stronger, but inside there was only disordered, untamed force.
Sasuk is the one who will make Hua Mountain’s name resound throughout the world.
Fine.
If that was the role you thought I was supposed to play—
I’ll make it happen with everything I’ve got.
So those bastard martial nephews stabbing knives in my back can see it clearly too!
Whooosh!
Baek Cheon’s sword drew a great circle through the air. Following the soft, smooth arc traced by the blade’s tip, vivid plum blossoms began to bloom like waves cresting and breaking into the sky.
The plum blossoms that had appeared in the earlier bouts could not even compare. The flowers bursting forth wherever the sword passed were so rich and varied they looked as though paint had been splashed across the air.
It was a truly magnificent sight.
The scarlet plum blossoms, seductive even in their brilliance, proudly displayed their elegance and filled the sky.
Everyone who watched was left speechless.
The spectators, the Wudang disciples who had already seen Plum Blossom Sword Art in action many times, even the Hua Mountain disciples who had watched Baek Cheon swing his sword a hundred times over—none of them could tear their eyes away from the spectacle.
“Ah….”
Even Mu O, the one facing him, went blank for a moment.
Plum blossoms…
The red blooms swept around the torrent of incoming sword qi. As if to say that sword qi was sword qi and could never become water, the blossoms shattered it, crushed it, tore it apart.
Fwaaaat!
The petals that had pulverized the sword qi were then carried upward by the wind. Scattered here and there, they dyed the world red, and red again.
A flower garden.
It was as if the entire space, the entire world, had been crammed full of blooming red flowers.
At least, that was how everything looked to Mu O’s eyes as he stood before it.
And then, a moment later—
Whoosh!
The plum blossoms that had so brilliantly embroidered the air rode the wind and surged toward Mu O.
Schk!
The cloth at his shoulder was cut away.
Schk!
The waistband of his trousers was sliced apart as well.
The plum blossoms brushed over Mu O’s body like a caress, passing by so lightly he could not even think to resist.
Schk! Schk! Schk!
Dozens, hundreds of petals lashed past, slicing at Wudang’s robes as they went.
Whoosh!
After the whirlwind of plum blossoms had swept over him and passed by all at once, Mu O’s clothes were nothing but rags.
“…….”
Yet not a single scratch remained on his body. Even after all that sword qi had brushed past him.
“…….”
Mu O’s eyes met Baek Cheon’s across the air.
Blood welled from Mu O’s bitten lower lip and ran down in a thin red line.
Piercing a person with sword qi was not difficult.
But controlling so many strands of sword qi at once and threatening a man without leaving even a single wound was an unimaginably difficult thing. Far harder than wounding him, far harder than cutting his breath off in one blow.
Facing that despairing difference, there was nothing Mu O could say.
“I….”
His whole body shook like a poplar leaf.
“I’ve lost.”
He could not even properly return his sword to its sheath, trembling so violently he could barely stand. Seeing that, Baek Cheon slowly slid his own sword back into its scabbard.
Shrrk.
Then he straightened his shoulders and brought both hands together before his chest in salute.
“I learned well.”
It was, beyond question, a complete and utter victory.