Put Your Neck on the Line, You Bastard! (5)
Clack!Gagagagak!
The sword packed with inner power and Jang Il-so’s ring scraped against each other, sending out a chilling, grating shriek.
As Chung Myung glared at him with murderous eyes twisted into a grimace, Jang Il-so answered with a sneer.
“How tragic.”
“……”
Crack.
Jang Il-so seized Chung Myung’s Ammae Sword and, with a casual swing, flung him away. Spinning in the air, Chung Myung righted himself and landed atop the cliff.
“Hmmmmm.”
Jang Il-so lightly brushed off the hand that had grabbed the Ammae Sword and looked down at Chung Myung with languid eyes.
“You know,” he said.
“……Know what?”
“Nothing is more ugly than an actor who refuses to leave the stage after his role is over.”
Jang Il-so twisted the corners of his red mouth.
“Your role must already be finished. Why are you still lingering here so disgracefully?”
“My role?”
Chung Myung looked back at Jang Il-so and smiled. Their smiles were different, and yet in some strange way, they were alike. Above all, there was that same gaze—looking down on the other, scorning them from on high.
“Ah, I know perfectly well what my role is. It’s to cut off your head and throw it to the dogs.”
“Oh my, oh my.”
Jang Il-so shook his head as though he truly couldn’t stand it.
“What a terrible actor. A very terrible actor indeed. You don’t even know your own role. An actor like that doesn’t just ruin himself—he ruins the stage as well.”
Slowly, Jang Il-so took one step forward.
“It pains me to say it, but an actor like that has to be dragged off stage by force.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
Chung Myung spun his sword once and gripped it again, baring his teeth. The expression on his face was terrifying—half a grin, half a snarl. He spoke, chewing each word and spitting it out.
“Man, I really have gotten nicer.”
“……”
“Here I am, standing around and letting some little punk like you run his mouth. If this had been back then, I would’ve shoved a sword down your throat before you even got your damn mouth open.”
“Hahahahahahahahahaha!”
Jang Il-so burst into loud, booming laughter.
It was, in truth, a bizarre sight.
Below the cliff they stood on, a battle of world-shaking scale was raging. Down there, the disciples of the righteous sects were struggling on the cliff face to avoid falling oil and tumbling rocks.
This was perhaps the very image of the world of martial arts being twisted out of shape.
And yet these two men spoke to each other with leisurely familiarity as though none of it had anything to do with them, as if there existed in this world only the other.
“Good. Very good. Do you know, Mount Hua Divine Dragon? No—Chung Myung of Mount Hua. I truly like you.”
“……”
“That’s why it’s such a shame. Truly, terribly so. The ones I like never seem to like me back. I imagine you’re no different?”
“You don’t need to say it.”
“Yes, of course not. What a pity.”
Jang Il-so covered his face with one large, pale hand, as if he did not wish Chung Myung to see the expression on it.
Yet the mad glint visible between his splayed fingers made it unnecessary to see his face to know exactly what sort of expression he wore. A low murmur slipped out beneath his palm.
“Then I suppose I have no choice but to tear out that throat and kill you.”
At that, Chung Myung snorted.
“I agree with the last part. The rest is bullshit. I fucking hate you.”
Chung Myung leveled his sword straight at Jang Il-so.
“So I’ll just kill you right here, you damn bastard.”
“Hmm.”
Jang Il-so lowered his hand. By then, he had already returned to a neat, smiling face, and he tilted his head in feigned curiosity.
“How strange. You’re a very clever boy. Excessively clever, sometimes enough to give one the creeps. Surely you can’t be unaware that it’s impossible to beat me alone.”
Gagagagak!
The rings crowded on Jang Il-so’s hand ground against one another with an eerie scrape.
“And yet you insist on courting death. Why?”
“You’re talking nonsense again.”
Chung Myung laughed softly and swept Jang Il-so with sharp eyes.
“You should know the answer to that better than anyone.”
Chung Myung’s cold gaze and Jang Il-so’s gentle one tangled in the air.
“Yes, that’s right. I do know. More than you think.”
Jang Il-so nodded.
“That was a foolish question. How stupid of me. But that’s how it is, isn’t it? Rising above others isn’t about defeating those you can beat. It only means anything if you drag down the ones you can’t.”
A chilling note seeped into his voice.
“You have to bite at their ankles, stab them with poison-coated blades, pour oil over them if need be.”
His lips curved faintly.
“That’s how you climb upward. There’s no other way.”
“You know it well.”
Chung Myung smiled as he thought it.
This was exactly why he hated Jang Il-so so much.
He made too much sense—and at the same time, made no sense at all. If someone could like a person who embodied both of those contradictions at once, that would be far stranger.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if I became your mountain. Come now. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
“First.”
“Hmm?”
Chung Myung held up two fingers.
“Let me correct two things.”
“……”
“First. Don’t go spouting nonsense about mountains and whatever else. A little punk like you could never become a mountain that stands in my way.”
“Hahaha, hah!”
“And second.”
Chung Myung twisted his mouth.
“Who said I was alone?”
“……”
At that very moment, four people surged upward from below the cliff at once.
Thunk!
Landing beside Chung Myung, Baek Cheon, Yu I-seol, Yoon Jong, and Jo Gul took up their stances without the slightest delay and unleashed killing intent toward Jang Il-so.
Crack. Crack.
Chung Myung worked his neck from side to side.
“You might not understand this, but every fight I’ve had so far has been mine. It had nothing to do with these guys.”
“……”
“But if my opponent is you, that’s a different story. If I try to take you on alone, these bastards’ll be chewing on my back from behind, you know?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“……I’m taking that arm.”
“I’ll grind you into powder and drink you down!”
Seeing the Mount Hua disciples bare their teeth at him, Jang Il-so let out a dry chuckle.
“I thought you might be beasts after all, but now I see you’re nothing more than dogs. So dogs gather together and get brave, do they?”
His biting sneer struck Chung Myung square in the eyes.
“No matter how many dogs gather, they’re still dogs. Even if you struggle, you won’t even amount to a wolf.”
It was an open insult, but Chung Myung didn’t get angry. Instead, he laughed.
“That’s not bad either.”
“Hmm?”
Surprised by the response, Jang Il-so narrowed his eyes. Chung Myung bared his teeth.
“……Is there any death more fitting for you than being bitten to death by a dog?”
“……”
Jo Gul, listening from the side, snickered and chimed in.
“That’s a dog’s death, literally.”
“That’d be a luxury, even.”
“I’ll take his head.”
Seeing the Five Swords jawing away like that in front of the Paegun, a strange expression crossed Jang Il-so’s face.
What odd men.
Jang Il-so’s presence came not merely from his strength. No matter how famous someone was, the moment they faced him, they invariably shrank back without even realizing it.
But these men stood before Jang Il-so, taking the full force of his malice head-on, and yet they did not shrink at all.
Was it bravado?
No—even if it was bravado, it was still something impressive.
Not just anyone could stick their head into the mouth of a tiger.
“You’re certainly a unique sect. Mount Hua……”
Jang Il-so casually looked down over the cliff. The time for talk had already been drawn out long enough.
“Come then. Cut off my head. Don’t just talk with your mouth.”
“That was the plan anyway!”
Chung Myung stamped down hard.
“Sasuk! Sago!”
“Right!”
“Be careful. He dies in one breath!”
“Got it!”
“Senior brothers!”
“Yeah!”
“Don’t rush in just because you see an opening! That thing’s a snake with ten heads. If you charge in carelessly the moment you spot a gap, you’ll get bitten by its fangs!”
“Understood!”
Chung Myung had never said such things to them when facing the Bishop. In other words, Chung Myung was now judging Jang Il-so to be above even that Bishop.
It meant this battle was one whose outcome could not be guaranteed, even with disciples who had grown far stronger than they had been at the time.
The whole of the Five Swords stretched taut with tension.
Paegun Jang Il-so. That towering name stood before them now. Not far above and unreachable, but right here—within the reach of a thrusting sword.
“I’m going! Bite him to death!”
Boom!
The Five Swords kicked off the ground at once. The rabid hounds of Mount Hua charged at the tiger before their eyes.
Toward a beast beyond common sense, one that seemed more fittingly called a monster than a tiger larger than a house itself. Without the slightest hesitation!
The sword Chung Myung led with flew straight at Jang Il-so.
Seomjeon. A sword without any embellishment. And because of that, a single strike faster and swifter than any other.
The sword, hurtling in at terrifying speed, lunged for Jang Il-so’s throat.
Kakang!
In one smooth motion, Jang Il-so swept up his right hand and knocked the incoming sword aside, then smiled brightly as he slapped toward Chung Myung’s head. But Chung Myung didn’t block or retreat; instead, he drove even more boldly into Jang Il-so’s arms.
And at that very instant, two swords wedged themselves between Chung Myung’s head and Jang Il-so’s hand.
Kwaaaang!
Baek Cheon and Yu I-seol’s swords blocked the hand Jang Il-so had sent toward Chung Myung’s head.
As though he had expected exactly that, Chung Myung plunged into Jang Il-so’s embrace without a hint of hesitation and this time unleashed a dozen swords directly at his chest.
Paaaaaaat!
Sword qi poured down like a storm of rain.
“Hm?”
With a short exclamation, Jang Il-so lifted himself a little backward.
Kagagagagak!
In the blink of an eye, Jang Il-so’s hand and Chung Myung’s sword collided dozens of times in midair. Not even Baek Cheon and Yu I-seol could clearly follow every exchange; all they could make out was the flash of something pale darting back and forth.
Paat!
Paaaaat!
As one sleeve of Jang Il-so’s shoulder was cut away, a handful of flesh was torn from Chung Myung’s side.
But in that same instant, Yoon Jong and Jo Gul rushed up behind Chung Myung, stabbing their swords out beneath his arms.
Jo Gul’s lightning-fast sword unleashed dozens of sword qi, while Yoon Jong’s disciplined blade met the rake of Jang Il-so’s hand as it came for Chung Myung.
Paaaat!
Baek Cheon and Yu I-seol did not stand by either.
Without even exchanging a glance, the two moved as one.
Baek Cheon lowered his stance as far as it would go and surged forward low over the ground, while Yu I-seol leaped over Chung Myung’s head and shot straight toward Jang Il-so.
Below and above.
Blossoms of red plum flowers burst outward like drops of blood and swept across Jang Il-so’s entire body.
Jang Il-so’s eyes changed.
“Insignificant!”
Darker blue qi gathered in both his hands and then erupted upward like flames.
Paaaaaaat!
The flying Plum Blossom Sword Qi smashed against Jang Il-so’s palm force and shattered instantly. Jang Il-so’s eyes chased after Yu I-seol, who had leaped into the air, like a hawk after prey.
Just as Jang Il-so’s hand was about to swing, Chung Myung kicked off the ground and charged in, lifting his knee toward Jang Il-so’s head.
Kwaang!
Jang Il-so’s forearm, raised to block, collided with Chung Myung’s knee. Jang Il-so twisted his wrist rapidly and hammered ten bursts of palm force into Chung Myung.
Boom! Kwaang! Kwaaaang! Kwaang!
Jang Il-so’s palm force and Chung Myung’s sword clashed again and again. Every collision sent Chung Myung’s body reeling backward, then backward again, relentlessly pushed back.
At that moment, Jo Gul and Yoon Jong seized Chung Myung’s back and planted their feet into the ground.
Kwaaaaang!
Grrrrrk!
Chung Myung’s sword, driven into the ground, was dragged backward, leaving worm-like scars across the earth. But he succeeded in keeping himself from being shoved off the cliff.
At that same moment, Yu I-seol landed in front of Chung Myung and bared a fierce killing intent at Jang Il-so like a wildcat poisoned with rage, while Baek Cheon flew in just behind her to shield Chung Myung and point his sword at Jang Il-so.
“……Ha.”
Jang Il-so let out a dry laugh.
A line of blood trickled down his pale cheek.
He raised a finger, wiped the blood from his face, and slowly smeared it across his lips as though painting them anew.
“Amazing……”
Blood-red, no—literally blood-soaked—Jang Il-so’s lips parted, revealing rows of white teeth.
“Absolutely amazing, Mount Hua.”
At that moment, the oppressive weight of a mountain seemed to slam down onto the Five Swords’ shoulders.