Don’t Worry! I’ll Make Sure You Win! (3)
"The second-generation disciples are returning."
"Hmm."
Hyun Jong let out a heavy sigh.
It was good news that the children who had left for closed-door training were coming back, but when he thought about what would come after that, he couldn’t bring himself to feel only relief.
"How close are they?"
"Some seem to have already arrived in Hwaeum, and most of the others are nearly there."
"I see."
Hyun Jong lifted his head and looked at Unam.
"Sect Leader."
"Speak."
"Why was the Hwajong Jihoe, which was originally supposed to be held six months from now, brought forward so suddenly?"
"Zhongnan sent word. They wish to hold the Hwajong Jihoe a little earlier this time."
"Is there no way to postpone or delay it?"
"It’s difficult."
Unam let out a sigh.
"Mount Hua is just beginning to gather momentum. Things are finally going well, and at the very least, everyone is starting to live without worrying about their next meal. Smiles don’t leave their faces anymore. If you think back to only a few months ago, it’s a remarkable change."
"Yes."
Hyun Jong agreed with him.
The biggest change was that Mount Hua was full of life again.
Those who had lived not knowing whether tomorrow would even come had now found hope. Their broad smiles warmed the hearts of anyone who saw them.
"But fundamentally, we are a sect without martial might."
"True."
"We’ve been discovering and learning new martial arts, but it’s still too early to expect real results. And even if results do come, they won’t be enough to stand against Zhongnan."
Hyun Jong nodded silently.
Everything Unam said was right.
In the past, Mount Hua possessed martial arts that could overwhelm Zhongnan, but now only the shell of those arts remained. They had barely recovered Chilmaegeom and gained a sliver of hope.
Even that hope is faint.
The road ahead was far too long.
They had only just solved the problem of survival. But for Mount Hua to reclaim its old fame and glory, it would eventually have to recover its former martial strength.
And where in the world was there any martial art that could be restored overnight?
There was simply too little time.
"If the result of this Hwajong Jihoe is the same as before, I fear the disciples—who have only just begun to believe they might stand a chance—will fall into defeatism, convinced once again that they still can’t do it."
"Unam."
"...Yes, Sect Leader."
"Do you think I don’t know that?"
Hyun Jong shook his head.
"But what would change if we ran from it? If we avoided the Hwajong Jihoe, would the disciples really gain any hope? Wouldn’t they think even the Sect Leader didn’t trust them?"
"That is…"
Unam lowered his head.
"Losing a contest isn’t shameful. If you lose despite giving it your all, then it can’t be helped. You simply try harder next time. But to avoid the contest so you won’t lose—that is something we must never do. It’s like inviting greater disaster just to preserve present comfort."
"I was too short-sighted, Sect Leader."
"I understand your concern well enough. But… delaying the Hwajong Jihoe is difficult in many ways."
Unam sighed.
I said something unnecessary and only unsettled the Sect Leader.
In that case, it might be better to say something a little more hopeful.
"Still, if the second-generation disciples can achieve good results, wouldn’t that be wonderful?"
"Yes."
Unam and Hyun Jong both knew that would not be easy.
Zhongnan, which Mount Hua had once looked down upon, was now so far ahead that the gap seemed impossible to close. The weight carried by Zhongnan’s second-generation disciples and the weight carried by Mount Hua’s second-generation disciples were as different as a mountain of ten thousand catties and a feather.
They had trained through closed-door cultivation, but winning would be difficult.
At the very least, if they don’t lose too badly…
A heavy gloom settled in Hyun Jong’s heart.
"Unam."
"Yes."
"The children are returning after a hard time. Prepare good food and bring out the wine."
"But…"
"A day of rest is hardly too much for children who’ve trained so hard. And they should be made to understand that Mount Hua’s circumstances have changed, shouldn’t they?"
"Indeed. I will prepare everything without fail."
"Good."
"Then I shall take my leave."
Unam rose and bowed respectfully before leaving the room. After he was gone, Hyun Jong slowly stood and opened the window. Looking out at Yeonhwabong, he let out the sigh he had been holding in a low breath.
Zhongnan.
It was like a thorn embedded in the heart. Every time he breathed, it hurt, and it felt as though one day it would sink deeper and cut off his very breath.
"So difficult. Far too difficult."
Winter was long, and Mount Hua’s spring was still terribly far away.
* * *
"Can we win?"
Yoon Jong and Jo Gul had gathered in Chung Myung’s room.
If anyone else had said something like that, they would have brushed it off, but when Chung Myung spoke, his words carried a different weight.
Both Yoon Jong and Jo Gul knew it. Chung Myung had never once spoken empty words. No matter how absurd his statement sounded, he always did exactly what he said he would.
"Us?"
Chung Myung clicked his tongue at the two of them.
"Not right now."
"Huh? Even after getting this much stronger?"
"You sahyung have gotten stronger."
"Right?"
Chung Myung held his thumb and index finger a hair’s breadth apart.
"About this much?"
"... "
"... "
"Aw, come on. I’m kidding. Not that bad."
"See?"
"I knew it."
Chung Myung widened the gap between his thumb and finger by exactly twice as much.
"This much should do it."
"... "
"... "
Jo Gul’s face turned red and blue in succession, and in the end he couldn’t hold back any longer. He shot to his feet and jabbed a finger at Chung Myung.
"Hey! We’ve been grinding ourselves to dust this whole time, and you’re saying we’ve only gotten that much stronger? Does that even make sense? I can feel it in my own body!"
"You think you can get strong after grinding for only a few months? Don’t make me laugh!"
"No, we are definitely stronger than before…"
"Do you compare a nut that’s grown three times bigger to a tree?"
"Grrr…"
Chung Myung was simply being honest.
The growth rate of the third-generation disciples was terrifying. He had never seen people grow this fast. Then again, he’d worked them that hard and fed them that much, so if their skills hadn’t improved, the idiot would have to be the one being trained.
But…
They’re still far from enough.
Compared to the third-generation disciples of Mount Hua in the past, they still had a road of ten thousand li ahead of them. And the same went for Zhongnan.
It was true that Zhongnan of today could no longer easily compare itself to Mount Hua, but it was still one of the Gupailbang. If it had preserved even a fraction of its former strength, then among Mount Hua’s third-generation disciples, there was no one who could beat Zhongnan’s third-generation disciples.
Maybe just this one?
Jo Gul, at least, had a decent chance if he faced the right opponent. Yoon Jong would need an even more favorable matchup.
Only two out of the third-generation disciples. Compared with the whole sect, there was no need to even think too hard.
"Then how do we win?"
"Get stronger."
Yoon Jong frowned.
"There’s at most half a month until the Hwajong Jihoe. How are we supposed to catch up to opponents we can’t beat even after months of training in just half a month?"
"That’s why I asked."
"…Huh?"
Chung Myung grinned.
"Are you prepared to die?"
"... "
No, that’s not exactly…
"Can you at least tell us what the method is?" Jo Gul blurted out, but Yoon Jong cut him off and spoke first.
"I’m prepared."
"Sahyung!"
Jo Gul raised his voice, but Yoon Jong didn’t even glance at him.
"I don’t know about the other disciples, but I’m prepared. And I think most of the others are prepared too."
"Sahyung, but what this bastard does is…"
"I know."
Yoon Jong was utterly firm.
"But that doesn’t matter. I’d rather die on the spot than see that again. The sight of those Zhongnan bastards stepping on my chest and laughing still comes to me in my dreams."
"... That’s true."
The two of them had already once gone as representatives to the Hwajong Jihoe two years ago. And they had suffered a defeat so miserable that even the word pathetic felt insufficient.
How could anyone possibly put that humiliation into words?
"If I could give that humiliation back to them, I’d even accept death. Enduring that and going on living isn’t what a martial artist does. I’d rather renounce the world and leave the mountain than ever see that again."
Jo Gul nodded too.
Just hearing Yoon Jong talk brought the humiliation rushing back. It was something he truly never, ever wanted to experience again.
"Fine. Good. Then I’ll make sure you win, sahyung."
"I trust you."
"Great."
Chung Myung grinned.
But Jo Gul, still uneasy, asked the question he probably shouldn’t have asked.
"Hey, Chung Myung."
"What?"
"Can’t you just tell us what that method is now?"
"Ah, it’s nothing special. I’m just going to change the training method a bit."
"How?"
Chung Myung answered as if it were nothing.
"Practical combat."
"Huh?"
"If you’ve built it up, now it’s time to use it. I’ll teach you how to use those bodies you’ve been conditioning."
"... "
Jo Gul’s eyes wavered slightly.
"Uh… by usage, you mean?"
Chung Myung shrugged.
"You know damn well what I mean. All martial arts are originally learned by rolling around with your body. Get ready. We start tonight."
"... "
The two of them had a bad feeling that something was going terribly wrong.
* * *
In the dead of night.
The third-generation disciples had gathered in the training ground.
"Seriously, does it have to be at night?"
Jo Gul pouted and grumbled.
By now, no adult in the sect was unaware that the third-generation disciples trained on their own at dawn.
At first, some had voiced concern about the training, and there had even been older martial brothers who tried to nitpick the training methods, but after months of it, everyone had more or less resigned themselves to it.
Chief instructor Un Geom of Baekmae Hall had officially recognized its effectiveness and kept others from meddling.
So now they could have trained in broad daylight if they wanted, but Chung Myung insisted on carrying on the training in the dead of night.
"What exactly is he planning this time, sahyung?"
"How should I know?"
Yoon Jong shrugged.
Everyone complained about training at such an ungodly hour, yet not a single person was absent; they all stood in formation.
By now, they all understood one thing: Chung Myung’s training was brutal, but it worked.
And since Chung Myung had confidently promised to make them stronger, he would undoubtedly do so again this time.
"Everyone here?"
Just then, Chung Myung strolled into the training ground.
The third-generation disciples looked at him with a mix of excitement and dread.
He was definitely going to do something outrageous again, but if they could just endure it, he would surely deliver results.
At this point, the third-generation disciples trusted Chung Myung in that strange, complicated way.
"Chung Myung. About the training this time…"
Then it happened.
Snick.
Chung Myung drew the sword at his waist.
...
A real sword?
... Huh?
That looked like a real sword.
The blade Chung Myung had drawn gleamed blue under the moonlight.
Even when a normal person held a real sword, it was enough to make people uneasy. But when a lunatic stood under the moon with one, it made your heart drop straight through your stomach.
"Ah, training?" Chung Myung asked coolly. Then, still holding the real sword, he began to walk slowly toward them.
"It’s nothing special. Just…"
The corner of his mouth lifted into a grin.
"You just have to die once or twice. No big deal, right?"
... What the hell was that lunatic talking about?