The Beginning of the Showdown (4)
The killing intent surged like a storm.
Even those watching from a distance shuddered and stepped back under the pressure of it. It was hard to believe such murderous force could be leaking out of a Daoist priest.
Just how furious did a man have to be to unleash something like that?
Everyone understood it at once. This was no longer a duel.
If a match of martial arts was meant to be a contest where two people compared techniques and learned from one another, then what was happening up there had drifted far beyond that boundary.
Only a life-and-death struggle could spew out killing intent that vicious.
Ka-a-a-a-ang!
The clash of swords tore into everyone’s ears like a bell tolling over a funeral.
Gagagagagaak!
Sparks flew in every direction as the blades ground against each other’s edges. The two men’s heads were pressed closer together than even the crossed swords between them. Their feral eyes, suffused with murderous intent, locked like beasts in combat.
The killing intent was so blatant it seemed to carry the stench of blood.
It looked exactly like a pair of beasts growling to sink their fangs into each other’s throats.
Who could have imagined it?
Wudang and Mount Hua.
That the final act of a duel between the two sects representing the Dao would end like this.
Creak. Creak-creak.
A chilling sound of straining bone rang out from the hands clenched around the swords.
Heo Gong’s eyes, dark with rage, stared at Chung Myung as if he wanted to devour him alive. And Chung Myung, meeting that gaze, had eyes burning with a strange fever of his own.
“That’s right...”
Chung Myung sneered without letting the smile leave his face.
“You can dress it up all noble, but people are all the same in the end.”
“You brat!”
Kwaaang!
Chung Myung’s sword surged with power and blasted Heo Gong backward. But this wasn’t an attempt to catch his breath. Chung Myung kicked off the floor of the duel platform and immediately chased after the retreating Heo Gong.
“That’s your nature in the end!”
“Shut up, you little bastard!”
Kwaaaang!
The swords clashed again, and another deafening explosion split the air.
Watching that scene, cold sweat began to bead across the foreheads of the onlookers.
What in the world is this...?
This was not what they had expected.
The elder of Wudang and the number one swordsman of Mount Hua.
They had thought a duel worthy of their fame and status would unfold before them—an elevated exchange of swordsmanship, one side grounded in Daoist enlightenment, the other in the strength of the human who wielded that sword art.
That was the shape of the duel both Wudang and Mount Hua had envisioned.
But the scene unfolding before their eyes was far too raw, far too naked.
As if to shout that it was ridiculous for sword-wielders to even speak of dignity and refinement, the two men exposed every ounce of their savage nature and swung their blades as if intent on tearing the other apart.
Kang! Kang! Kaaaaang! Kang!
In the blink of an eye, dozens of sword strikes came and went.
Not one of them hesitated even a hair’s breadth as they aimed straight for each other’s vital points. The shockwaves from those ferocious exchanges ripped the floor apart.
Kwaang!
Fragments of sword qi rebounding from the colliding blades skimmed past their bodies. Heo Gong’s shoulder and Chung Myung’s side were stained red in an instant.
But neither man cared about the wounds. They were obsessed with nothing but driving their blades into the other’s body, cursing as they fought.
Gagagagagak!
The blades that had collided broke apart for a moment, then lunged in again, seeking another opening.
Kwaang!
Heo Gong knocked aside Chung Myung’s descending blade, then drove in close to his chest and slammed into him hard. Even in that split second, a whirling strike carrying the force of a vortex shot toward Chung Myung.
Kwa-deuk!
But Chung Myung was not someone who would take that lying down.
He smashed the hilt of his sword down onto Heo Gong’s shoulder as the old man pressed in. That barely kept the blow from landing squarely in his chest, but the force was too much for Chung Myung to absorb cleanly. His body twisted and was thrown backward.
“Ghk!”
“Kuh!”
Both men groaned at the same time. But only for a moment. Heo Gong bared his tiger-like eyes and lunged after Chung Myung as he was forced back.
Chwaaaak!
A waterfall of sword qi burst from his blade. The momentum was terrifying. Yet instead of flying straight at Chung Myung, the sword qi spread out to surround him from all sides.
Paaaeeng!
The sharp sound of a whip crack split the air. A blinding burst of palm force from Heo Gong’s left hand slammed toward Chung Myung.
Ten-Step Gold!
It was one of Wudang’s signature palm techniques, alongside Soft Palm.
If Soft Palm was a palm art that continued without seeming to continue, flowing on like Taicheong Sword Art, then Ten-Step Gold was the blade of subjugating evil.
It was a killing art that Wudang only drew forth when facing great villains who threw the world into chaos.
And now that blade of Wudang was flying straight at Chung Myung. Its speed and explosive force were far beyond what one would expect from a Wudang technique. It was a martial art infused with speed and domination, somewhat different in flavor from Wudang’s usual emphasis on softness and stillness.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
Ten-Step Gold’s palm force came in waves, colliding one after another with Chung Myung’s Maehwageomgi.
Unlike Chung Myung, who struggled to balance sword and palm, Heo Gong used Ten-Step Gold to pin him down while unleashing Taicheong Sword Art in sweeping assaults.
That’s exactly what makes it such a scam.
Grinding his teeth, Chung Myung kept retreating.
“Haaaah!”
Seeing this, and thinking he had seized the advantage, Heo Gong pressed his attack harder and harder.
But Chung Myung, having quickly slipped out of Ten-Step Gold’s range, swung his sword without delay.
Hwaa-aa-aak!
Dozens of plum blossoms bloomed at the tip of the Dark Plum Sword and split left and right. The surging tide of sword qi was blocked by a wall of plum petals.
Like rough waves crashing against a solid dike, the blue sword qi shot skyward.
“Haht!”
Chung Myung’s sword, which had trembled softly for a moment, suddenly drew three firm slashes downward. Blood-red sword qi shot out like lightning toward Heo Gong.
“Cheap tricks!”
Heo Gong redirected his Taicheong Sword Qi and blocked the incoming strike.
But Chung Myung had already kicked off the floor and closed the distance between them the moment he launched the sword qi.
Chwaaaaaaak!
From top to bottom!
The sword slashed down in a single relentless stroke, splitting the waves to either side. It looked less like swordsmanship and more like a miracle.
But there was no way Heo Gong would be pushed back so easily.
The instant the sword qi split, Ten-Step Gold’s force shot through the gap like lightning.
Kwaang!
Chung Myung whipped his sword up in a rush and blocked the palm force. But it was not enough to fully disperse the power of a strike released at such close range. The Plum Blossom Sword shook violently, and then dark red blood burst from Chung Myung’s mouth.
“Huh.”
Blood smeared across his mouth, but Chung Myung only smiled in that eerie way of his.
It was enough to send a chill through anyone who saw it.
He was bleeding, and yet he looked delighted, laughing all the while—and that caused Heo Gong’s sword to lose its rhythm for the briefest instant.
Chung Myung did not waste it.
Kwaang!
He kicked off the duel platform as though he meant to shatter it and hurled himself at Heo Gong, spinning his body in midair.
Heo Gong’s eyes widened at the sight of him whirling like a top with his head as the center.
Idiot!
This was no trick, no feint. What meaning could there be in offering your head to the enemy and spinning like that?
His sword reflexively dropped toward Chung Myung’s exposed head. If the strike landed, Chung Myung’s skull would split open at once. Under normal conditions, it was an attack one should never make in a duel, but in Heo Gong’s mind, the line between duel and life-or-death struggle had long since vanished.
Just as the sword came crashing down with enough force to cleave Chung Myung’s head apart—
Paa-aat!
Chung Myung’s sword burst outward in all directions.
His sword was already dazzling and full of change, but now, with the addition of rotation, it became so overwhelming that it felt as though the whole world before him had been filled with blades.
This—!
The tip of Heo Gong’s sword wavered again.
If he brought his blade down now, he might indeed be able to split Chung Myung’s head. But he would have to accept his own body being torn apart in return. If those murderous sword qi pierced him, even his life could no longer be guaranteed.
“Kuh!”
In the end, pushed back by Chung Myung’s momentum, Heo Gong converted his sword to defense and stepped back.
It was a glaring mistake.
Kwaang!
Chung Myung slammed the hand that wasn’t holding a sword into the floor and, using the recoil, shot toward Heo Gong like a cannonball.
Dropping low like a swallow skimming the ground, Chung Myung rushed straight toward Heo Gong’s lower body.
Then the sword Chung Myung thrust upward from below soared toward him.
Heo Gong had fought in countless duels in his life and crossed swords just as many times. But he had never once dealt with a sword thrusting upward from so low an angle. Instinctively, he pulled his upper body back to avoid Chung Myung’s blade.
That was exactly what Chung Myung had been waiting for.
Kwaaaaaang!
Chung Myung drove his fist mercilessly down onto Heo Gong’s foot.
He had noticed that, because the old man had shifted his center of gravity backward, Heo Gong’s reaction would be half a beat slower than usual.
With a thunderous crash, Heo Gong’s foot was driven into the blue stone floor. The solid stone cracked open with a series of jagged pops, spiderweb fissures racing outward in every direction.
“...”
Unable even to scream through the agony, Heo Gong glared at Chung Myung. His eyes were bloodshot, veins standing out in furious knots.
“Haaaah!”
He then swung his uninjured foot toward Chung Myung’s jaw.
But—
Kwa-drudeudeuk!
What met his foot was not Chung Myung’s jaw, but the hilt of Chung Myung’s sword. The steel sword hilt slammed into the top of the outstretched foot.
“Aaaagh!”
Both of Heo Gong’s feet now injured, he let out a bestial roar and swung his sword wildly.
But Chung Myung had already slammed back against the floor and retreated out of range.
Kwagak!
Heo Gong carved a terrifying gouge into the floor, then immediately pursued Chung Myung like a venomous serpent.
Hwaa-aak!
To face the striking snake, plum blossoms bloomed once more at the tip of Chung Myung’s sword. But the snake, now venom-laden to the core, did not stop even when it saw the thorny plum field spread before it.
The sword qi, boiling like lava, shattered the plum blossom sword qi and surged toward Chung Myung’s chest.
Chung Myung set his sword vertically and blocked the incoming blade, but a sword wielded while he could not properly plant his feet could never gather complete power!
Taaang!
With the metallic ring of swords colliding, Chung Myung’s body was shoved backward.
Thud! Thump! Thud!
He rolled and bounced across the floor several times before finally collapsing flat on his back.
“Huff! Huff! Huff!”
Heo Gong panted hard and looked down at the hand that held his sword. It was trembling. Then, after checking the swollen, throbbing pain in both feet, he bit down hard on his lip.
Both feet had been crushed. Every step sent unbearable pain stabbing through his chest and mangling his mind.
But this was no time to brood over that.
His half-dazed gaze followed Chung Myung, who had been blasted away. Sure enough, Chung Myung was already slowly pushing himself back up.
Plink.
Thick blood dribbled from his mouth, ran down his chin, and splashed onto the floor. But that demonic grin still hung on his face.
Just from their expressions alone, it was obvious who had won the upper hand in this exchange.
“You...”
The fury that had ruled Heo Gong’s entire body went suddenly cold. In its place, awe and unease sprouted like vines, wrapping around him and tightening over every inch of him.
“Ptooey.”
Chung Myung roughly spat out the blood pooling in his mouth and wiped his lips with his sleeve. Then he bared his red-stained teeth in a grin.
“Looks like... you’re not so lofty anymore.”
“...”
“Let’s keep going. We’re just getting started.”
Chung Myung, his face half soaked in blood, let his sword hang low as he began to advance, pressing down on Heo Gong like a weight.