I’m Glad to Be a Disciple of Mount Hua (1)
Even the gesture of cupping one’s fists had looked like a painting come to life.
Despite having just finished a match, not a speck of dust clung to Baek Cheon’s pure white martial robes. The sight of him alone seemed to embody flawless victory.
“...Did he win?”
“Are you blind? Do you see that and think he lost?”
“N-No, I mean, I’m just so dumbfounded. That was less a match and more him just flattening the other side.”
The spectators couldn’t even manage a gasp.
Up until now, they had praised Jo Gul’s courage and applauded Yoon Jong’s willpower.
But that had been more like cheering for a weakling who fought well against a strong opponent.
The sword Baek Cheon had just displayed, however, was absolutely not the sword of a weakling.
“...Mount Hua is this easily defeating Wudang? And with a second-generation disciple, no less?”
“You don’t know anything! If it’s the Righteous Sword of Mount Hua, his name’s already famous throughout the martial world. How can you call a man like that an ordinary second-generation disciple?”
“Does your generation suddenly change when your fame rises? No matter how you slice it, a second-generation disciple is still a second-generation disciple!”
“...Well, that’s true enough.”
Confusion filled the spectators’ faces.
“Is Mount Hua really stronger than Wudang?”
“That’s absurd.”
“Look! Mount Hua has already won three in a row. No—if you include the first bout, which wasn’t even counted as a proper match, that makes four straight wins.”
“...”
“Maybe you can get lucky once or twice. But who can call four straight wins luck? If that’s luck, then what in this world isn’t?”
Even those who had quietly sided with Wudang couldn’t bring themselves to refute that.
“And! Leaving the other bouts aside, this one was...”
The speaker, unable to contain his excitement, pressed his mouth shut. Only after staring at the platform with trembling eyes for a long moment did he let out a rough breath and say,
“This one was a match where the difference in skill was obvious beyond doubt.”
“...”
Everyone stared at the arena with disbelieving faces. They had all fallen so silent that even the sound of someone swallowing stood out sharply.
They had all come here for entertainment.
No one had expected Mount Hua to perform this well against Wudang.
But what was unfolding before their eyes had utterly shattered those expectations.
“A-At this rate, could Mount Hua really beat Wudang?”
“Maybe.”
The onlookers swallowed hard.
But among them, the more perceptive ones were thinking something different.
Even if Mount Hua’s momentum ends here, the damage is already done.
From this point on, even if Wudang went on to win every remaining match, the world would only remember Mount Hua’s four straight victories. People always loved nothing more than seeing a weak sect bring down a powerful one.
If, one day, Mount Hua were ever judged to have surpassed Wudang, this bout would surely be remembered as the beginning.
With faces tense, the crowd looked back and forth between the two sides. Joy and sorrow crossed in waves over their expressions.
Mu O lowered his head and descended from the platform without saying a word.
“...”
Heo Sanja looked at him, dazed.
What was there to say?
If it had been a defeat born of carelessness, he would have roared at him. If Mu O had failed to show his true skill because he was too tense, he might have been sharply reprimanded—or perhaps even comforted.
But this wasn’t carelessness, nor tension. It was a defeat that came purely because his skill was inferior to the other side’s.
How could anyone say anything to a man who had simply returned after losing, exactly as he should have?
“...”
Heo Sanja could only stare at Mu O in a daze, unable to find a single word.
Watching from behind, Mu Jin let out a sigh and spoke in Heo Sanja’s place.
“...You’ve worked hard.”
“Yes, senior brother.”
“Go inside and compose yourself.”
“...I’m not injured.”
Mu Jin understood all too well the bitterness hidden in those words.
More humiliating than losing the match itself was the fact that he had come back from defeat without even a scratch.
But unfortunately, Heo Sanja, who should have been the one to comfort that bitterness, was too drained by the very act of accepting the situation to spare any strength for anything else.
“Go in.”
“...Yes.”
Mu O’s shoulders slumped. Seeing that, Mu Jin felt his own chest begin to burn like a wildfire.
“Elder.”
He gritted his teeth and said in a low voice,
“Is this the result you wanted?”
He had lived his entire life under Wudang’s strict discipline.
He was not someone who had ever imagined challenging his superiors with questions of right and wrong, of reason and principle. But the events unfolding here were enough to snap even Mu Jin’s patience in two.
“Our honor has been trampled into the dirt, and now we’ve lost even our moral high ground. The world will praise Mount Hua and curse Wudang.”
Mu Jin trembled as he bit his lip so hard it almost bled, struggling to suppress the rage boiling inside him.
“If I had gone out instead, even if I lost, I wouldn’t have been shamed like this. Was this truly the horrific defeat you wanted?”
“You brat!”
Only then, as if waking from a daze, Heo Sanja suddenly roared.
“How dare a Great Disciple of Wudang stare a senior of the sect in the eye and talk back like that! Is that how our sect taught you to behave?”
Bloodshot veins stood out in Heo Sanja’s eyes. But instead of being intimidated, Mu Jin only sank deeper into disappointment. More than any question of right or wrong, being reprimanded over his attitude only made the whole thing feel even more miserable and hopeless.
“There’s no need to be so heated.”
“...”
“It looked worse than I expected, but it was the result I had anticipated.”
“Elder!”
“From here on, we just have to win! Even if we lose five! Six! Nine! What does that matter? We just need to win ten! How many times we lost isn’t important!”
“...”
“What matters is the result. In the end, only the result remains!”
Mu Jin’s tightly bitten lips went white.
Heo Sanja’s words had not changed at all. The logic behind them was the same as before. But that was only how it looked on the surface.
Right now, Heo Sanja was soaked through with emotion. He wasn’t reaching his conclusion through reason and careful thought; he simply didn’t want to admit that he had been wrong.
Was he always this shallow?
His sect had seemed like a place steeped in the lofty, refined air of Daoist cultivation.
But in that instant, Mu Jin felt as if he had seen the rot hidden beneath that elegance.
What meaning is there in being refined only within the sect?
If that posture and spirit could not survive the moment one left the sect and faced the harsh world outside, what was the point?
With a miserable expression, Mu Jin looked toward Mount Hua.
Frivolous... and rough...
And yet endlessly free.
The root of Daoism was, after all, to hold the world and nature within oneself and become one with them. If that was so, then wasn’t the other side closer to the true essence of Daoism than those who merely bound themselves with rigid discipline?
Mu Jin shut his eyes tightly.
But he couldn’t cover his ears, and the cheers of Mount Hua’s disciples pierced him like needles.
“As expected! As expected, it’s Senior Uncle Martial Nephew!”
“Senior Brother! That was incredible!”
“Wow, I really can’t even imitate that!”
Thunderous applause and cheers burst out for Baek Cheon as he stepped down from the platform.
It was only natural.
Of course the others had all fought hard, too, but none of them had shown such an overwhelming advantage as Baek Cheon had.
They had all pretended not to care, but the towering mountain called Wudang had always pressed down on their shoulders. Yet in this moment, Baek Cheon had sliced that mountain cleanly in two with a single stroke.
“That was amazing.”
“How do you even use sword aura like that? Please teach me, Senior Brother!”
Seeing Mount Hua’s disciples crowd around him in a noisy swarm, Baek Cheon smiled faintly.
“Don’t praise me too much. It’s embarrassing.”
“No! Isn’t this exactly the sort of thing you should be proud of?”
“Ah, what a shame! Mu Jin should’ve been the one who came out!”
“Mu Jin, you idiot! At least call him Mu Jin-daehyeop.”
“Ah, right...”
Baek Cheon couldn’t quite rein in the smile spreading across his face. Watching his fellow disciples cheer and rejoice made his chest swell with warmth.
So that’s what he meant.
To be the one who would raise Mount Hua’s name.
To stand at the highest point and shine.
That was what it meant.
It didn’t mean Baek Cheon stood alone in lofty isolation.
It meant leading Mount Hua’s disciples in a different way from Yoon Jong. Finally understanding Chung Myung’s intention, Baek Cheon smiled and turned his head.
How about that? I pulled it off perfectly—
But in the next instant, Baek Cheon froze like a statue.
Chung Myung and Jo Gul were standing there with one leg cocked, wearing thoroughly dissatisfied expressions as they looked his way... and then... huh?
Yoon Jong? Why are you over there? Yoon Jong...
“Well...”
Chung Myung spat on the ground and said in a drawling voice,
“A hero, huh?”
“Why? Senior Uncle Martial Nephew was always a fine one, wasn’t he?”
“Good grief. So blinding. It’s blinding. I’m gonna go blind.”
“...”
Yoon Jong and Jo Gul glared at Baek Cheon with the sulky resentment of children who had had their favorite toy stolen.
“You really didn’t have to make such a grand spectacle of it. You’d have won just fine without all that flash.”
“Why are you acting so surprised? It’s not like this is new.”
Those bastards?
As if the good mood had never existed, Baek Cheon’s eyes flashed.
“You damn brats! Your senior brother wins and comes back, and that’s the reaction I get?”
“We’re congratulating you, aren’t we?”
“Aigoo! Congratulations, Senior Uncle Martial Nephew! This humble martial nephew is so moved I feel tears welling up, seriously—ah, no, wait, don’t draw your sword, hey now.”
Yoon Jong and Jo Gul both scrambled back in a hurry.
Baek Cheon’s neat brow twisted fiercely as he ground his teeth.
I forgot for a moment.
I should’ve kept in mind that Mount Hua’s disciples and those bastards are separate things.
Baek Cheon glared at Chung Myung, who still stood there without moving.
“I did what you told me to, so you don’t have any complaints, do you?”
“Stop showing off and get back in already. What are you so puffed up about? It’s not like you caught some massive prey. Your neck’s gonna snap off soon.”
“...You filthy bastard, seriously.”
In the end, the foul words came spilling out.
Of course I’m an idiot for expecting anything from that bastard. I’m the idiot, aren’t I?
Letting out a long string of sighs, Baek Cheon twisted his head and returned to his place.
The Five Swords remained sullen and slightly offended, but the rest of Mount Hua’s disciples all looked at him with admiration.
Even the elders, too.
“Baek Cheon.”
“Yes, Elder.”
“You truly did well.”
As Hyun Sang patted his shoulder, Baek Cheon smiled softly.
“Not at all. I only did what I was supposed to do.”
“Wow, listen to that old man talk!”
“Jo Gul. I can hear you perfectly. Speak a little more quietly.”
Yoon Jong, you bastard...
You should be telling him not to say that in the first place, not to speak quietly. What kind of nonsense is that?
Baek Cheon let out a long sigh.
Still, these guys...
They really were all experts at scratching at a person’s nerves. Baek Cheon soon snorted in laughter and glanced toward Wudang.
There was a time I was like that, too.
He had definitely once admired Wudang.
It would be a lie to say he had never regretted leaving Zhongnan for Mount Hua. Had he chosen Wudang instead of Mount Hua, wouldn’t he have been spared the humiliation inflicted by Zhongnan? Had he not spent nights awake with that thought?
But now...
I’m glad I’m a disciple of Mount Hua.
Confidence didn’t arise only from strength. Right now, Baek Cheon felt a pride in being a disciple of Mount Hua that made his chest ache.
Of course, they could be a little stingy, a little noisy, and often irritating, but even so, this was the warmest and proudest sect in the world.
“...You look like you’re absolutely drunk on how cool you are right now.”
“Leave him be. Since when has this been new?”
“...”
No. Let’s leave out the “warm” part. Those filthy bastards...