Who Is That Mount Hua Sect Bastard? (3)
“Taaaaat!”
Yoon Jong swung his sword, sheath and all.
Of course, when you swung a sword while it was still in its scabbard, the blade naturally became heavier and far less precise.
But against these guys, that didn’t matter at all.
Faaat! Faat!
Like a streak of lightning splitting the air, Yoon Jong’s sword struck the foreheads of the gold-sword manor disciples charging at him with perfect accuracy.
Tack! Taaaack!
Not enough to seriously injure them—just enough to knock them unconscious.
Subduing an opponent without hurting them was twice as difficult as taking their life. Yet Yoon Jong’s sword moved lightly and cleanly, without the slightest problem.
“Y-you bastards!”
“Watch out! They’re no ordinary men!”
The disciples of the Golden Sword Manor recoiled in alarm at Yoon Jong’s display and stumbled backward.
“Where the hell did these bastards come from!”
“No, I told you, they said they came from Mount Hua—”
“Don’t back down! Are you trying to look weak in front of these demonic bastards?”
“We’re not demonic bastards!”
As Yoon Jong swung his arm again, brilliant sword qi surged from the tip of his blade.
“That sinister sword qi! These guys really are from the demonic path!”
“I said we’re not!”
This was driving him insane, seriously.
Should I just use the Plum Blossom Sword Art?
An impulse rose in his mind, but Yoon Jong immediately shook his head.
The Plum Blossom Sword Art was a technique with so many variations that even the one using it had trouble controlling all the sword qi. And his Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art was still not complete.
If he carelessly used it and someone got hurt, then they might really have to flee while hiding the fact that they were from Mount Hua.
That absolutely cannot happen!
The one who caused trouble should be that Chung Myung bastard, not them.
So, for now….
“Aaaagh! Take this! Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art, Plum Blossom Swo—”
“Don’t! You crazy bastard!”
Yoon Jong’s reflexively thrown sword, scabbard and all, slammed into Jo Gul’s back of the head.
“Kyaoool!”
Jo Gul shot forward, then faceplanted into the floor and slid a good distance across it.
“……Uh…….”
Yoon Jong blinked at him, genuinely not expecting to hit that directly.
“Are you all right?”
“…….”
“You’re alive, right?”
“……I’m dead.”
“Ah. Good.”
Yoon Jong strode over, retrieved his sword, and put on a stern expression.
“Subdue them with just the Yukhap Sword and Chilmaegeom, since someone might get hurt!”
“……Is that really something the guy who just sent a sword flying into someone’s skull should say?”
“You’re strong, so you’re fine.”
……What exactly was a daoist?
Jo Gul unconsciously turned his head.
Several “daoists” were clearly flattening the Golden Sword Manor warriors with ruthless efficiency.
“I’m sorry! I’ll apologize later! It wasn’t intentional—ah, damn it, you got hit. Couldn’t you have dodged a little?”
Baek Cheon, first and foremost, was casually spouting words so infuriating that hearing them could make a person burst a blood vessel and die with no exaggeration at all.
“The waist!”
Fwaaaaaak!
Because they were using their scabbards, they weren’t cutting anyone, but the moment they drew their swords they clearly had no intention of holding back at all. Yu I-seol was swinging her blade with terrifying force.
And then there was….
“I can use Chilmaegeom pretty well now too!”
Though still somewhat rough if you looked closely, Dang Soso had finally begun to show a rather convincing swordswoman’s form.
Before those seasoned(?) fighters, the warriors of the Golden Sword Manor were being swept away like autumn leaves in a storm.
Well, there’s nothing to be done about that.
To Jo Gul, the human weapons in front of him looked far too delicate and fragile to stand against.
At least be thankful.
At least there were only people here who understood common sense.
When Jo Gul turned his head, that one guy who had no common sense came into view—specifically, the back of his head.
Wishing farewell to the people who would now have to deal with that monster, Jo Gul clenched his sword again.
“Hehehehehe.”
Was this the expression a cat wore when it had cornered a mouse?
A deeply satisfied smile rested on Chung Myung’s lips.
“S-Third Elder!”
And Sang Man-hui, whose gaze kept shifting between Chung Myung and the fallen elder, gradually turned pale as dirt.
The Third Elder….
Wu Pil, the Third Elder of the Golden Sword Hall, was an expert even Sang Man-hui himself could never treat lightly. No—in terms of skill alone, he might even have been better than Sang Man-hui.
And yet Wu Pil was now lying on the floor, eyes rolled back and foam at his mouth.
“W-what in the….”
“Huuuuuuup! Haaah!”
After taking a long breath, Chung Myung cracked his neck loudly from side to side.
“Hey, mister.”
“……Yes?”
Sang Man-hui, pressured by the sheer force of his presence, had unconsciously reverted to polite speech. He realized his mistake immediately, but Chung Myung didn’t give him the chance to correct himself.
“I don’t feel like wasting words, so move aside. I’m here for that bastard.”
“T-that….”
Sang Man-hui swallowed dryly, utterly at a loss.
He desperately wanted to step back. Looking at the situation, it was obvious he couldn’t handle this lunatic. If the Third Elder couldn’t leave so much as a scratch on him, what chance did he have?
But he couldn’t back down either.
Sometimes in life, pride mattered more than profit. If word got out that the deputy lord of the Golden Sword Manor had bowed to the threats of some unknown interloper and handed over a disciple of Mount Hua, what would happen then? From that day on, the Golden Sword Manor would never again be able to lift its face in Nam-chang.
In other words, he might as well shut the whole business down.
“Y-you punk! Do you really think you can threaten a disciple of Mount Hua just because you’re strong?”
So now, all he could rely on was the authority of Mount Hua itself.
But the moment he said that, Chung Myung’s face twisted hard.
“This old man’s really been screwing with my head since earlier. How the hell do you even hold the position of deputy lord with that kind of sense?”
“……What?”
“Hey, you frustrating old man! You should’ve figured it out by now! We’re from Mount Hua, damn it!”
Chung Myung pointed at Jin Yang-geon with a finger.
“That bastard’s the fraud!”
Sang Man-hui slowly turned his gaze toward the direction Chung Myung pointed. There was Jin Yang-geon, his complexion deathly pale.
His expression still seemed composed enough, but a face and sweat were things no one could fake forever. Seeing the cold sweat running down his ashen brow, Sang Man-hui’s mouth slowly fell open.
“N-no way….”
The instant his pupils shook like an earthquake—
“Protect the deputy lord!”
“Youuuu bastard!”
Seeing Chung Myung enter the deputy lord’s room, the warriors of the Golden Sword Manor burst in without even looking back.
“N-no….”
Under normal circumstances, that fierce loyalty would have been more than welcome. But right now, Sang Man-hui cursed it in his heart.
Their numbers flew into the room and surged at Chung Myung from every direction.
And in that instant—
“Argh!”
Chung Myung clicked his tongue in irritation and stamped the ground hard.
Blue light burst from both his eyes. His fist then snapped cleanly upward into the chin of the man charging in front.
“Why!”
BANG!
The man struck squarely on the jaw shot straight upward like a fired cannonball and was driven into the ceiling.
“Don’t!”
BANG!
A clean roundhouse kick slammed into the side of the next attacker’s ribs.
“Ghk….”
With a sound like air hissing out of swollen leather, the man’s body folded like a shrimp and was sent bouncing backward even faster than he had charged.
KRASHHHH!
His flying body smashed into the wall, but unfortunately for him, the frail thing couldn’t hold him. He punched straight through it and vanished from view as if he had never existed there in the first place.
Flash!
Chung Myung’s burning gaze swept over the others still rushing in.
“……Hiiik!”
The frenzied attackers only then realized something had gone terribly wrong and tried to retreat. But they were human beings too, and once they had committed their full bodies to a charge, it was impossible to halt themselves instantly.
Before their eyes, now stark white with terror, the most vicious face in the world suddenly loomed into view.
“How many times do I have to say it before you morons get it!”
Chung Myung’s fists filled the air.
It wasn’t really a formal technique so much as a chaotic barrage of punches. But when that chaotic motion produced dozens, then hundreds of phantom fists, and those fist-images came crashing down at absurd speed, the result was functionally no different from a proper martial art.
CRUNCH!
A round fist sank neatly into the brow of the man at the front.
A dizzying pain spread through him.
But before the scream of agony could even burst from his open mouth, another blow crashed into his jaw, and then dozens of blows after that rained down over his whole body like hail.
PA-PAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAK!
It was hardly an exaggeration to say it was practically a wall made of fists.
Like a giant barrier collapsing and crushing people beneath it, the punches came raining down on everyone all at once.
“Aaaagh!”
“Aaaaargh!”
“Ugh! Uheeegh!”
The ones struck by those fists were launched into the air like frogs kicked by a child running at full speed.
Watching people—not pebbles, not frogs, but people—go flying everywhere in the distance made the whole thing feel almost unreal.
After blowing away everyone who had charged in from all directions, Chung Myung walked over to the lucky one who had managed to slide away and avoid the storm of fists.
For a moment, the world fell silent.
And when their eyes met—
Grab.
Chung Myung snatched the fallen man by the collar without hesitation, climbed right on top of him, and resumed hammering him with his fists.
“If your head’s bad, at least be quick on the uptake, huh?”
Pow!
“I’m telling you, I’m from Mount Hua! What, you’ve never heard of Mount Hua?”
Pak!
“Damn it, I can’t believe I’ve reached a day where I have to prove I’m from Mount Hua. What, should I pin plum blossoms all over my damn head? Huh? Or do you want me to carve some pretty tattoos on your body with the Plum Blossom Sword Art?”
PAAAAAK!
Thud.
The man’s jaw twisted cleanly, and foam at his mouth, he finally slumped limp.
Only then did Chung Myung click his tongue and get back to his feet.
“I told you we should’ve settled this with words.”
When? When, exactly…?
But sadly, Sang Man-hui could only swallow that question in his heart. That demonic bastard had suddenly fixed him with a piercing glare.
“So….”
Crack. Crack.
As Chung Myung worked his neck and clenched his fist tightly, a horrifying sound of bone echoed out. He had probably heard that sound countless times in his life, but right now it made chills crawl down his entire body.
“If you still don’t believe me, how about I let your body find out for itself?”
Sang Man-hui shook his head violently.
Honestly, he no longer cared whether this guy was truly a disciple of Mount Hua or some fraud hired by the Iron Spear Manor to impersonate them.
He had learned one thing, and one thing only: if he hereafter said something brave like, “Still, I can’t believe you,” then he, too, would soon be foaming at the mouth and convulsing on the floor like the others.
Chung Myung tilted his head.
“You believe me now?”
“I-I believe you!”
“Right? Hehe.”
Seeing Sang Man-hui stammer his answer, Chung Myung smiled in satisfaction.
“See? They say sincerity gets through to people. Hah! I knew it.”
“…….”
Sang Man-hui was left speechless.
It was certainly true that Chung Myung dealt with people sincerely. It was just that he had never once seen anyone be this sincere in beating someone into the ground.
“Deputy Lord?”
“Huh? Ah… yes!”
“If you understand, could you step aside for a moment…?”
Chung Myung was smiling as he spoke, then suddenly flinched. He whipped his head left and right.
“Huh?”
His face twisted in an instant into something demonic.
“Where the hell did that bastard go?”
“Pardon?”
Sang Man-hui turned around in shock.
Jin Yang-geon’s seat was empty. Along with the stack of slips Sang Man-hui had handed over.
“Wh-where….”
“What, that bastard actually ran away?”
Fire exploded in Chung Myung’s eyes.
He glared at the open window behind them and ground his teeth.
“I was gonna let you off with just half a beating, but now you’re dead. You scammer bastard!”
Chung Myung looked as if he might charge forward any second, but then he snapped his head around to stare at Sang Man-hui.
That sideways glance made Sang Man-hui shrink his neck before he realized it. Chung Myung spoke through clenched teeth.
“If you let that bastard get away, you die too.”
“……Pardon?”
“I’ll grind up this Golden Sword whatever-the-hell and swallow it whole. So pray to whatever gods you believe in that you catch him!”
BOOOOOOM!
With that, the floor seemed to explode upward for an instant, and at the same time Chung Myung vanished from before Sang Man-hui’s eyes.
Sang Man-hui stared blankly at the spot where Chung Myung had stood a moment ago. Right then, the Mount Hua Five Swords sauntered into the deputy lord’s room after finishing off the Golden Sword Manor disciples. They looked around, then sighed.
“Where’d he go?”
“Looks like that bastard ran.”
“Seems Chung Myung went after him?”
“Sigh… damn, what a miserable day. Let’s go!”
“Yes!”
Soon they too rushed in a clump and threw themselves out through the window.
“…….”
Left behind all by himself, Sang Man-hui stared after that window for a while before slowly turning around. Groans, wheezes, and cries of pain were coming from everywhere.
“Grrrnnn.”
“Ah… ahhh, I’m dead….”
“M-my waist….”
“…….”
Sang Man-hui collapsed right there onto the floor.
“W-what the hell is going on… what even is this….”
Where the storm called Chung Myung had passed, not a blade of grass remained.
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