I’m Glad to Be a Disciple of Mount Hua (3)
The atmosphere in Wudang had sunk as low as it possibly could.
Four straight losses.
No, to be precise, five straight losses.
If someone had said before this bout began that Wudang would lose to Mount Hua five times in a row, how would they have reacted?
They would probably have laughed it off, not even deeming it worth answering.
Because, by all common sense, it was impossible.
But today, Wudang’s disciples learned the hard way that common sense was merely ignorance about things that had not yet happened.
And even so, no matter how miserable the Wudang disciples felt, it still could not compare to the despair Heo Sanja was now experiencing.
Crack.
The sound of his own teeth grinding together rang out from his mouth.
It was humiliation beyond measure.
Only after shuddering under that absurd disgrace did Heo Sanja finally understand why the elders of the past had reacted so sensitively to the name Mount Hua.
To the people standing here, Mount Hua was nothing more than a fallen sect. But the seniors who had entered the sect in its heyday must have remembered all too vividly what Mount Hua had once been.
If they had seen such a sight with their own eyes in childhood, even a fallen sect would have remained like a dagger buried in the heart.
So this is what it means to walk the same Dao…
Did Heo Sanja not understand that two tigers could not live on one mountain?
The idea that people walking the same path would get along happily was the kind of thing found only in stories. In truth, because they walked the same path, they had no choice but to growl at each other.
Heo Sanja turned his head and scanned the disciples. Then, swallowing down his fury, he spoke through gritted teeth.
“That will be enough.”
“...Pardon?”
“This humiliation ends here. From now on, we win and restore the honor that has been dragged through the mud. That is all.”
Mu Jin said with a dark expression, “But Elder. Mount Hua Divine Dragon is still left.”
“Mount Hua Divine Dragon will not appear this time.”
“...Pardon?”
Heo Sanja turned his head slightly to glance at Mount Hua, then continued.
“Mount Hua Divine Dragon is the sort of man who hates hollow defeats.”
He had heard plenty of information about Chung Myung and had already finished assessing his nature.
“If he were to come out now, he would have to accept winning five times and losing the rest in a row. He would never allow that.”
“...You mean he’d try to shut things down at an opportune moment.”
“Yes. If not, he’d likely step in at the very end and try to erase all the earlier defeats at once.”
If the people who knew Chung Myung well had heard that, they would have nodded in admiration. Heo Sanja’s analysis was, in its own way, accurate and sharp.
“Then…”
“Yes.”
Sparks seemed to fly from Heo Sanja’s eyes.
“That means there’s no one left on their side to face us.”
From the moment they set the rule of ten victories, the result had been all but decided.
The five known as the Five Swords could challenge Wudang, but the rest absolutely could not match Wudang’s first-generation disciples. What mattered was how they handled the remaining matches.
The worst possible outcome. But still within expectations.
They had taken a crushing blow by losing five times in a row, but if Wudang could now go on a winning streak, that shock would gradually be washed away. Then, at the very least, they could preserve the final result of victory.
“Step forward.”
Heo Sanja said with clenched teeth.
“You must win the remaining bouts flawlessly. As for Mount Hua Divine Dragon, who will appear at the end, there is someone else who will handle him, so don’t concern yourselves with him. More importantly—”
Heo Sanja swept his disciples with eyes tinged with killing intent.
“Do not forget your purpose.”
“...”
“Our purpose is not to defeat Mount Hua. It is to make the whole world understand that Mount Hua has no senior masters left, and that their later generation alone can never surpass the name of Wudang.”
“Yes, Elder!”
“Drive them mercilessly. Their later generation may have shone brilliantly, but that will only prove they are like a roof raised without pillars beneath it!”
The Wudang disciples nodded in silence.
They had already lost too much. Even if things went as Heo Sanja hoped, everyone knew the original purpose they had come for was already shattered.
And precisely because of that, there was nothing more they could afford to lose. They had been driven into a corner.
“I’ll go.”
Heo Sanja looked at the one who stepped forward.
“Mu Gak.”
If it was Mu Gak, that wasn’t bad. He was no match for the Wudang Three Swords, but he wasn’t far off either. Among the Mu generation, he ranked fairly high in skill.
“Break their momentum and come back.”
“Yes!”
Mu Gak stepped onto the platform with a resolute expression.
“...So.”
Baek Cheon slowly looked over the disciples lined up behind him.
“...What do we do?”
There was no one left to send. Baek Cheon found himself scratching his head furiously.
Were we really this shallow?
This was, in fact, Mount Hua’s fundamental problem.
Of course, the others were all elite “Chung Myung Soldiers” who had overdone their medicinal pills and trained themselves almost to the point of collapse. Even so, compared to the Five Swords, there was no denying the gap.
No, honestly, the gap is pretty severe.
To put it bluntly, even if those five rushed together, they probably still couldn’t handle Yoon Jong alone.
They had come all this way to solve that extreme difference in skill, only for a match with Wudang to break out at the worst possible moment.
“Hey, Chung Myung.”
“Hm?”
“Aren’t you going out?”
At Jo Gul’s question, Chung Myung shrugged.
“I will, but if I go out now, who goes after me?”
“...Right.”
If Chung Myung stood behind them, the ones who went out to fight would at least feel a little less pressure. But if Chung Myung finished his bout and came back, then the burden on whoever went next would only double.
“Then... So-so... no, wait...”
Baek Cheon scratched his head again.
Of course, So-so was strong. In fact, after the harsh battles in the North Sea, she had grown far stronger than before.
But no matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t imagine So-so beating one of Wudang’s first-generation disciples. She was still a little short.
“Then, um...”
Each time Baek Cheon’s head turned left or right, the disciples flinched and drew their necks in, avoiding his gaze.
“Fine! You...”
“Senior Brother.”
The moment he was pointed at, Baek Sang smiled brightly.
“I’m a man dedicated to the Finance Hall. I don’t know anything about swinging swords.”
“...I’m so proud of you, you bastard.”
Unable to bear the hopelessness any longer, Baek Cheon let out a long sigh.
Everyone looked lackluster. But he couldn’t exactly blame them. From the start, it was absurd to expect the first-generation disciples and the second- and third-generation disciples to fight bouts on equal footing.
The fact that the Five Swords had somehow pulled it off—and even won—was the strange thing. Not these people.
“Ugh. If we had just two or three more... Hm?”
Then Baek Cheon’s wandering gaze stopped somewhere.
Amid the black robes, something yellow and fluffy stood out. He lifted his chin a little higher, and something glossy came into view...
“A monk?”
“Huh? Hye Yeon Monk?”
“You were here?”
“I didn’t even know you were following us.”
As everyone’s attention landed on him, Hye Yeon’s face flushed crimson in an instant.
“A-Amitabha. I felt awkward being left alone, so...”
In the first place, he had stayed behind on the supply ship because he’d thought it would look odd for a Shaolin monk to be caught up in a bout between Mount Hua and Wudang.
Seeing him now, quietly mixed in among the disciples, was enough to make a bitter laugh rise on its own.
“Monk... uh, Hye Yeon Monk...”
Just as Baek Cheon was about to say something, his eyes suddenly lit up and he snapped his head around to Chung Myung.
“Can’t Hye Yeon Monk enter the bout?”
“...Sir. Have you gone crazy?”
“No, listen. Couldn’t we just insist he’s an honored guest of Mount Hua? Sects like the major noble families recognize guests as part of the house, don’t they?”
“Are you talking like a dog chewing grass? Better to paint that bald head black and hand him a sword! Then if he can’t make plum blossoms bloom, at least he can make a lotus bloom! He’s a monk in name, damn it!”
Chung Myung glared, but this time Baek Cheon refused to back down.
“It’s because we don’t have anyone left to send! Why do you think I’m trying to throw the kids at the front without a plan?”
“But we won, didn’t we?”
“Is that the issue, you bastard?”
“A-Amitabha...”
As the two of them growled at each other without yielding an inch, Hye Yeon had no idea what to do and kept chanting Buddhist invocations in a fluster.
And then, at that very moment.
A man stepped onto the platform and clasped his hands toward Mount Hua’s camp.
“I am Mu Gak of Wudang. Which one of you will be my opponent?”
“...”
Darkness settled over Baek Cheon’s face.
They could no longer waste time.
So-so? Or Baek Sang? Or maybe Gwak Hoe, or... Baek Mu.
No matter whom he considered, there was no one he could confidently say would win.
He knew it.
The result was already decided. And yet the reason Baek Cheon hesitated was because he was certain no one wanted to bear the first defeat that would break their winning streak.
At the very least, he wanted to send out someone a little braver—someone who would not be wounded by that loss so easily.
“Sang-ah!”
Baek Cheon’s expression hardened.
“You go.”
“M-Me?”
Baek Sang looked at him with a troubled face.
“If Senior Brother says so, I’ll go, but... honestly, I’m not very confident.”
“I know.”
Baek Cheon nodded.
“I can accept defeat. But even defeat has its own dignity. Show them you are a Mount Hua disciple.”
“...Yes, Senior Brother.”
Baek Sang nodded helplessly, and then, just as he was about to head for the platform—
“No.”
Someone spoke in a calm voice and stopped Baek Sang in his tracks.
Everyone turned to look at the one who had spoken, startled.
“It isn’t Sang-i. I’m the one who should go.”
“S-Sasuk?”
“Hall Leader?”
It was Un Geom.
Every Mount Hua disciple’s eyes went wide.
“Ha, Hall Leader...”
“Why are you all reacting like that?”
Un Geom gave a small laugh, as though he found their reactions strange.
“Wudang has sent out a first-generation disciple. Is there any reason Mount Hua’s first-generation disciple should not step forward?”
“...That’s not the issue, but...”
“Then what is the problem?”
“...”
No one could answer. But their gazes were far too honest, and they inevitably drifted to Un Geom’s empty right sleeve.
If his right arm were still intact, no one would have thought to stop him.
In fact, just the fact that Un Geom was stepping forward might have filled them with courage.
But now...
“Sasuk.”
“Is it all right for me to go?”
Baek Cheon bit his lip lightly.
“Please don’t say it like that. You are my martial uncle. How could I possibly presume to say anything about what you choose to do?”
“Thank you.”
Un Geom smiled softly and tapped the sword at his waist. Then he began to walk forward.
No one could stop him.
What finally halted that proud stride was a blunt voice from behind.
“Are you sure about this?”
Un Geom glanced sideways at Chung Myung.
“What are you talking about?”
“You still haven’t fully gotten used to your left-handed sword.”
As if he had expected this reaction as well, Un Geom smiled gently.
“Even so, I can still swing a sword. My disciples are fighting this hard, and it’s embarrassing for me, as their teacher, to stand around and watch.”
“Hmph.”
Chung Myung let out a low sigh.
“I’ll be watching closely.”
“Then that would be better.”
Un Geom smiled at Chung Myung, then was about to move on before pausing for a moment.
“Didn’t Baek Cheon just say something earlier?”
“Huh?”
“That even defeat has its dignity.”
“...”
Staring toward the platform, Un Geom resumed walking.
“I hope I can show them that dignity.”
His empty sleeve fluttered in the wind.
As they watched his back slowly make its way toward the platform, a gravity unlike any they had felt before began to settle into the eyes of the Mount Hua disciples.