The Beginning of the Showdown (3)
Heo Gong let out a laugh of utter disbelief.
I’m not even angry.
If Chung Myung had been a little younger, he might have dismissed this as a child’s impulsive arrogance and let it slide. But to Heo Gong, Chung Myung was already old enough to be responsible for the words that came out of his mouth.
“All calamity comes from the tip of the tongue.”
The point of Heo Gong’s sword remained trained straight at Chung Myung.
“You’ll have to answer for every word you’ve spat out.”
The words of a Wudang elder carried weight befitting their rank. But Chung Myung, hearing that grave warning, only looked bored.
“If I take responsibility, I don’t run away from it. I do a proper job of it.”
“……”
“Can’t beat that.”
Heo Gong slowly shook his head and quietly drew up his energy.
To be honest, he was angry.
It wasn’t just Chung Myung’s rude manner of speech. He wasn’t so shallow in cultivation that such things alone could shake him.
What irritated him was Chung Myung’s attitude, which seemed to look down on him—and on Wudang’s sword—as if it were beneath notice.
And those eyes. Those eyes were infuriating beyond endurance.
He doesn’t make sense.
Hadn’t he lived long enough to know how the world worked?
Over the course of his long life, he had met countless people and crossed swords with even more. By now, he could tell at a glance what someone thought of him just by their eyes.
Those are the eyes of the strong looking down on the weak.
He could not understand it.
Blind confidence?
Of course that was possible.
Posturing to avoid being crushed by his aura?
Yes. That, too, was entirely possible.
He was even willing to forgive something like that. A genius who had only grown within Mount Hua might well struggle to understand how high the heavens really were.
But those eyes were not that.
That was not the gaze of someone dismissing an opponent on the basis of unfounded arrogance. Only someone who truly believed they stood unquestionably above their foe could wear eyes like that.
“Hmph.”
Heo Gong gave a faint cough and slowly opened his mouth again.
“I said I’d teach you something. I wasn’t planning to lecture you in the first place.”
His gaze sank even darker.
“Still, it seems you need to learn just how high the heavens are.”
“Oh?”
Chung Myung grinned.
“That’s a refreshing thing to hear.”
“Hmm?”
“Plenty of people have said that to me before, but not one of them succeeded. Thanks to that, I still don’t know how high the heavens are.”
“……”
“I’d really appreciate it if you were the one to teach me that, Elder.”
The easy confidence that had lingered on Heo Gong’s face was long gone by now.
It wasn’t even especially provocative, but Chung Myung’s attitude and eyes kept grinding away at his composure, as if they were cracking his cultivation itself.
Then Chung Myung snorted again.
“Teaching, huh... Seems the world really has changed. These days, I guess just leaking killing intent all over the place counts as teaching.”
Heo Gong flinched slightly.
Did that brat just sense my killing intent?
He was about to open his mouth to explain, or perhaps deny it, but Chung Myung raised a hand and cut him off.
“Ah, forget it. I don’t know why you’re talking so much on a dueling platform.”
“……”
“What matters is the result, right? We’ll see whether you’re right or I am.”
Chung Myung’s sword pointed at him with brazen self-assurance. Heo Gong couldn’t help but laugh.
At the very least, his nerve is worthy of being called the best under heaven.
And that made him even more dangerous.
Being strong did not necessarily mean being influential. A person who pursued martial arts to the exclusion of everything else, who cut themselves off even from their martial brothers and devoted themselves only to their own sword, could grow mighty without ever changing a sect.
But men like this, regardless of how strong they were, ended up leading sects.
The more he spoke with Chung Myung, the more he watched him, the firmer his resolve became.
Blue sword energy flared up from the tip of Heo Gong’s blade.
It seems I’ll have to endure the disgrace.
His eyes took on the ferocity of a predator, carrying a baleful star within them.
“Be careful, little Taoist. When I draw my sword, I know no mercy.”
“I’ll return that line right back to you.”
Having recited the incantation of his profound art, Heo Gong restored his composure.
As the two sword-bearing men faced each other, the air between them began to tighten with tension. Silence settled over the field. Despite the number of people gathered there, it was so quiet one might have heard a pin drop.
The one who broke that silence first was none other than Heo Gong.
Swish!
His sword shot forward.
When swordsmen of different generations crossed blades, it was common sense in the martial world for the junior side to be granted three openings. But now Heo Gong moved before waiting for Chung Myung’s attack.
As if to say that this duel had nothing to do with generational rank or social standing. It was proof enough of how seriously he was approaching this match.
The sword energy unleashed from the tip of his sharply drawn blade reached Chung Myung in the blink of an eye.
Fast!
It was a terrifying speed, enough that even Baek Cheon, who hadn’t so much as blinked, could not properly catch it.
And yet—
Bang!
A short, explosive crack rang out, and at the same moment the incoming sword energy twisted as though its spine had been snapped, crashing into the ground.
Kwarararak!
Harsh scraping sounds followed. Heo Gong’s sword energy burrowed into the hard blue stone, carving a deep scar into the floor. Chung Myung had casually swept his sword through the air and knocked the incoming energy aside, slamming it into the ground.
It was nothing especially impressive. Just a simple exchange.
And yet the reaction of the onlookers was all over the place.
Some cried out in admiration even though they could barely see what had happened at all, while even those who were not particularly skilled in martial arts felt a shiver at the sheer speed of it.
And those who understood what that exchange meant could not even breathe.
“This is…”
Jo Gul bit down hard on his lip.
This is what a real duel between sword masters looks like.
It was definitely different.
He didn’t even know exactly why it felt different. This was less a matter of clear logic than a sensation he could feel in his fingertips.
Only one thing was certain: those two were trading swords in a realm Jo Gul could not begin to understand.
Just a little more.
I want to see more.
As if answering that thirst, Heo Gong’s sword once again split the air.
Pa-a-aat!
Bang!
The sound of the sword energy being released and the sound of Chung Myung’s sword cutting back at it rang out almost simultaneously.
Then Chung Myung, who had calmly cut down several successive sword energies without the slightest sign of strain, looked at Heo Gong with a composed gaze.
“You seem not to understand.”
“……”
“If you don’t want to spout some ugly excuse about losing because you couldn’t show your true skill, I suggest you do this properly.”
All emotion vanished from Heo Gong’s face.
It wasn’t that those words had shaken him.
What had shaken him was Chung Myung’s sword, so easily cutting down the sword energy he had unleashed.
What in the world is that?
The more one knew, the more one saw. That was a truth that needed no explanation.
What Jo Gul could only grasp by instinct was laid bare before Heo Gong’s eyes.
The path drawn by the sword. The distribution of force within the sword technique. The subtle way of absorbing impact in the instant sword met sword energy.
A sword strike so concise it was enough to raise gooseflesh, stripped of every unnecessary trace.
What on earth was packed into that sword?
Heo Gong, a man who had spent his whole life looking only at the sword, realized by instinct that there was something in Chung Myung’s blade even he could not understand.
How…
Could the sword of a boy who hadn’t even lived half as long as he had surpass his understanding?
The hair on his entire body stood on end. A coldness sharper than frost raced down his spine.
Was it because he had to acknowledge something he could not accept?
“Haaah!”
With a shout that seemed to cast aside all stray thoughts, Heo Gong swung his sword. Sharp yet grand sword energy flew toward Chung Myung in relentless succession.
Layering.
The sword energies that had flown first overlapped with the ones launched after them, and those following energies layered again over the rest. Over and over, they piled up until the sword energy became like a massive wall crushing down on Chung Myung.
And in that very moment, Heo Gong was confronted with an even more incomprehensible sight.
Chung Myung took a slow step toward the enormous wall of sword energy Heo Gong had formed.
It was movement that gave the impression the sword energy flying at him did not exist at all.
What!
Heo Gong’s eyes flew wide open. The situation was such that it would not have been strange if the sword energy shredded Chung Myung’s body to pieces at any moment.
Pa-a-aat!
But then Chung Myung’s sword, thrust out with maddening calm, drove itself into the wall of sword energy.
Kwarararak!
Of course it should have been impossible to tear through a wall layered and layered again with a single strike. But a sword was not limited to one blow.
Gagagagak!
The sword swung again and again, smashing into the center of the wall of sword energy, stabbing and twisting with ruthless precision.
Kwak!
Through the opening that formed, the sword plunged deep inside.
“Haat!”
And then the crimson sword energy that burst skyward quite literally tore Heo Gong’s own sword energy apart.
Between the scattering fragments of sword energy, Chung Myung walked out slowly. His lowered sword twitched faintly. But there was not a trace of wavering in his lowered eyes.
“……”
Even Heo Gong, for all the world’s fame he carried, lost his words at that moment.
Of course, he had never expected this single move to decide the battle. It would have been enough simply to force the boy back once.
But this Mount Hua disciple had not retreated. Instead, he had struck back in the same manner and neutralized the sword energy, proving that he lacked nothing in comparison.
It was a viciously stubborn battle spirit.
Heo Gong fixed his gaze on Chung Myung as the latter came closer.
Leaving all positions aside, he could not help but offer sincere admiration. And then Chung Myung’s mouth twisted strangely.
“...Three openings.”
Hm?
Heo Gong looked at him in confusion.
Chung Myung curled one corner of his mouth upward, showing a row of white teeth as he smiled. There was something unnervingly cold spilling from him now.
“I let you have all three.”
“……”
Heo Gong, still bewildered because he didn’t understand those words, suddenly convulsed as if struck by lightning.
His face flushed red in an instant, and his whole body began trembling with rage.
Three openings? Don’t tell me…
Common sense in the martial world.
In a duel, the senior side grants the junior side three attacks.
It was not an absolute rule, but when the difference in skill was vast, the basic courtesy was to show a little consideration so the opponent would not be too deeply humiliated.
Those three openings...
That bastard let me have them?
“Y-you…”
Heo Gong’s expression collapsed in utter ruin.
This was a humiliation he had never once experienced in his entire life.
“You bastard…”
A whelp barely old enough to be his grandson had shown him mercy and yielded him three openings.
His mind went blank.
His sect’s honor, his mission, all of it faded into the background, and only one thing remained and swelled within him: Chung Myung.
Rage so intense it made the world swim before his eyes began burning through his entire body.
As he was losing his reason to fury, Chung Myung’s voice stabbed into his ears.
“This much consideration should be enough, so…”
Chung Myung deliberately paused for a moment, then said clearly,
“Don’t go blaming my sword for being merciless.”
“Y-you…!”
At last, Heo Gong’s reason snapped. And who could blame him? He had been humiliated in front of so many watching eyes, in a way he had never once suffered before in his life.
“You little shit!”
Heo Gong let out a beastlike scream and charged forward, pouring out killing intent sharp enough to slice flesh from bone.
And on Chung Myung’s lips, as he met him, bloomed a smile fit for a demon.