Our Kids Are a Little Rough Around the Edges (1)
Jo Gul’s back was already slick with cold sweat before he even realized it.
The boy who had never once lost his nerve, not even when facing the Bishop of the Demonic Sect, was now wearing a face so rigid it was almost unrecognizable.
The tips of the hand gripping his sword trembled faintly.
His lips, clenched tight without his noticing, had gone white.
It felt as though a giant tiger had opened its jaws right in front of his face and was growling at him. The pressure was so intense he could hardly breathe, as if the moment that mouth snapped shut, his throat would be ripped open and blood would gush everywhere.
“Huuuhh…”
He took a short breath, then tightened his grip on the sword as if forcing his mind into place.
So this is Jang Ilso…
A viper?
No, that wasn’t enough to describe him. At the very least, he was a great serpent—no, perhaps he should be called a demon dragon.
And Jo Gul wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
He’s strong.
Baek Cheon, too, stared at Jang Ilso with eyes tight with tension.
The Bishop? No… he’s beyond that.
Of course the Bishop had been monstrously strong. It was hard to deny that their victory over him had depended at least half on luck.
But one exchange had been enough to make it clear. Jang Ilso was stronger than the Bishop.
The Bishop of the past had been, in a word, a natural disaster.
A being who seemed as though he could sweep away the entire world with impossible, overwhelming internal energy.
But if one had to crudely compare it, he was no different from a five-year-old child wildly swinging a massive blade ten times his own size. His internal power had been sky-high, yes, but the refinement of his techniques had not been especially remarkable.
Jang Ilso was different.
That bastard is simply strong.
Fast, precise, and skillful besides.
Baek Cheon remembered what Chung Myung had said the first time he laid eyes on Jang Ilso.
That thing’s a monster.
Thinking back, Chung Myung had never used that kind of expression for anyone else. It would have been easy to dismiss it as the ramblings of a madman, but this was Chung Myung—the same Chung Myung who had not only spoken his mind in front of the Shaolin Abbot, but had even gone so far as to point a finger at him.
They should have understood what it meant that such words had come from Chung Myung’s mouth.
He’s clearly stronger than the Bishop.
There was nothing strange about the existence of someone stronger than the Bishop of the Demonic Sect. Especially when the Bishop in question had already been wounded.
But standing before that reality was a different matter from simply understanding it.
Without realizing it, Baek Cheon stole a glance at Chung Myung’s face. For some reason, he felt the need to know what expression that bastard was making right now.
“……”
And then, all at once, the strength drained from Baek Cheon’s body.
Chung Myung was smiling. Grinning like someone who was having the time of his life.
In other words… just like Jang Ilso.
“Not bad.”
Chung Myung adjusted his sword, which he had reversed in his grip, and spoke.
“So the little bastard from the evil sect can brag after all.”
“Hmm.”
“Still, I’ll give you credit for crawling this far up.”
Jang Ilso let out a light hum through his nose and smiled.
“My, my… to think I’d receive praise from the famous Mount Hua Divine Dragon. I truly don’t know what to do with myself.”
He chuckled softly. The ornaments hanging all over his body gave off a sharp clatter.
Chung Myung’s fangs showed briefly.
Jang Ilso’s composure was infuriating—far too infuriating.
Not because he was being relaxed in front of Chung Myung. That composure was clearly not born of arrogance, but of familiarity.
Jang Ilso was used to this.
Used to fighting in this hellish battlefield.
Used to having someone try to kill him and launch a coordinated attack.
Used to the people standing across from him exuding murderous intent that said, without caring who else they killed, we’ll take you down no matter what.
He was accustomed to it.
The easy looseness of someone who had survived a hundred battles, then a thousand, and finally ten thousand. A realm only those who had fought life-and-death battles as casually as eating three meals a day could ever reach.
Yes, just like the Plum Blossom Sword Saint of old.
Gritting his teeth, Chung Myung lowered his stance. His gaze sank cold and eerie, like that of a small beast of prey.
“You arrogant son of a bitch.”
His eyes were fixed on his prey and not letting go.
“Hmm.”
Watching him, Jang Ilso thought, Strange. So strange.
These people were strange.
Bluntly speaking, they looked like a bunch of lunatics.
He had faced countless opponents in his life. Some had fought together for decades in the jianghu, while others had devoted themselves to perfecting their coordinated assaults.
And yet even those people had never made him feel like this.
Perfectly chained combinations?
Eyes sharp enough to divide roles without a word, to instantly gauge both their own abilities and those of their comrades?
Child’s play.
He had seen enough of that to be sick of it.
What truly unsettled him was the way these bastards entrusted their lives entirely to the person beside them.
They attacked while believing someone would stop the blow aimed at their own head?
Sure, if one insisted, it was possible.
But to leave not even a shred of doubt in that movement—that was not trust anymore. It was madness.
What on earth have they done to build trust like this?
And then…
That bastard.
Jang Ilso’s eyes followed Chung Myung like a snake.
The most bizarre one was that bastard.
I knew he was incredible, but…
His sword lay beyond comprehension.
There was no way to explain it with words like eerie or vicious alone.
The Mount Hua Divine Dragon’s sword was twisted somehow. If he had to compare it to something, it was like a man swinging an enormous axe while performing the most delicate swordsmanship in the world, or wielding chopsticks to unleash an unrivaled hegemonic blade technique.
A powerful sense of disharmony, as though swordsmanship, internal energy, and physique were all moving in completely different directions.
What if that all comes together?
What would happen if that sword one day found true harmony?
“……That’s chilling.”
His entire body trembled.
Even imagining it made him feel as though a massive landslide was about to sweep him away. A great smile spread across his face, and before long he was baring his teeth in laughter.
Those bastards… no, those brats were strong.
Now that he’d crossed swords with them, it was clear. These people would someday stand at the very peak of the righteous sects. There were five of them in one sect alone. The day they fully bloomed into their potential, no sect under heaven would dare lift its head in front of Mount Hua.
So how could he not be thrilled?
He had been given the chance to rip apart and trample that boundless potential in advance, turning it into nothing more than trash.
There was no pleasure in the world that could compare.
“I thought you were just a bunch of mutts, but it seems you’re tiger cubs after all. Still, that won’t do you any good. I’m not the kind of man who leaves tiger cubs alive.”
Clink. Clink.
As if to prove that murderous intent had welled up in his heart, the ornaments on his body began to ring sharply. His gathered power made them tremble in response.
“So die here.”
Whoosh.
Jang Ilso’s body seemed to collapse in on itself and vanish from where he stood. Before anyone could even react, he reappeared right in front of Chung Myung.
Yoon Jong’s eyes flew wide open.
He was shocked not by Jang Ilso’s movement technique, but because Chung Myung’s sword was already at Jang Ilso’s throat, as if he had predicted exactly where Jang Ilso would appear.
KAAAAANG!
Jang Ilso’s bracelets slammed against Chung Myung’s sword. At the same time, Baek Cheon’s blade, which had darted in swiftly to strike from behind, was caught hard in Jang Ilso’s other hand.
“Too slow.”
With a casual twist of his wrist, Jang Ilso sent both blades flying away like toys.
BOOM!
His fist then shot toward Baek Cheon. Baek Cheon quickly raised his sword to block the punch, but he had no way of stopping the force behind it. His body was blasted backward like a cannonball.
At the same time, Jang Ilso lunged toward Chung Myung like a hawk, clawed fingers curving downward like the talons of a bird of prey.
SHRIIIIIP!
Chung Myung threw himself backward without the slightest hesitation. He narrowly avoided a direct hit, but the front of his robes was torn clean away, and five red streaks blossomed across his chest and abdomen.
The blade aura that had grazed Chung Myung by a hair and slammed into the ground struck the cliff where they stood.
KWAAAAAAAANG!
“Kgh!”
Yu I-seol rushed through the rising cloud of dust and swept her sword sideways. The blade, carrying the full force of Jaha Divine Art, was stronger than any sword she had shown so far.
But—
KAGAGAGAK!
With the screech of metal grinding against metal, her sword came to a dead halt in midair.
Yu I-seol’s eyes widened.
As the dust cloud thinned, she saw it: Jang Ilso standing calmly, his hand wrapped around her sword.
“Hm.”
Jang Ilso casually touched his chin with one hand and inspected the Plum Blossom Sword in his grasp with leisurely interest.
“A fine sword.”
“Tch!”
POOOF!
Before Yu I-seol could react, Jang Ilso’s foot buried itself in her stomach.
Ugh.
Yu I-seol coughed up blood as her insides twisted from the blow and was sent flying backward.
“It’s almost too good for brats like you to use.”
The dust slowly settled.
It had been a perfect coordinated assault. It held everything Mount Hua’s disciples had built up until now.
And yet that combination had fallen apart far too easily.
Jang Ilso had simply slipped between them and nullified Mount Hua’s formation, smiling like a tiger strolling lazily through the noon sun.
“There’s only one person here who ought to be using a sword like that.”
Step. Step.
Like a tiger freshly scratched by a claw, Chung Myung—his chest marked with a wound—walked forward, holding his sword in reverse grip.
Jang Ilso laughed softly. The moment he saw Chung Myung’s ice-cold eyes, it felt as if electricity ran through his entire body.
How odd.
Even he couldn’t understand why he was trembling like this.
Potential was, after all, only potential. Before it was seized and made real with one’s own hands, it was nothing more than an illusion that did not yet exist.
So the current Chung Myung could never reach him. In other words, he was worth no more than a single piece on the board.
And yet, bizarrely, Jang Ilso couldn’t tear his eyes away from that sight.
The moment he looked away, that sword felt as if it would drive straight into his throat and then tear off his head whole, and the sense of danger made his entire body prickle with chills.
“Ptooey!”
It was a low sound from behind him that finally tore Jang Ilso’s gaze away from the one man.
Yu I-seol.
The woman he had kicked flying was coming at him again, expressionless as she spat out blood.
……Her insides should be completely wrecked.
That had been an attack severe enough that it would have been strange if she had not lost her breath altogether. And yet she was getting back up so calmly?
No—more than that, even after taking such a blow, she hadn’t lost her will to fight at all?
And it wasn’t just Yu I-seol and Chung Myung.
Step. Step.
Baek Cheon, who had been flung away by Jang Ilso’s fist, also came walking back as though nothing had happened, while Yoon Jong and Jo Gul closed in on him with resolute eyes.
Like wolves surrounding a tiger that had wandered into their territory, moving to drive it out.
“Ha… ha ha… ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
At last, another mad burst of laughter erupted from Jang Ilso’s mouth.
Who would have thought he’d feel his blood boiling like this against these bastards in a place like this?
Not Wudang’s Heo Do, not Namgung’s Namgung Hwang—but Mount Hua’s brats!
“Jang Ilso.”
“Hmm?”
Chung Myung smiled crookedly.
“You’d better be careful. Our kids are a little rough.”
“That’s just what I was hop—”
Madness surged sharply into Jang Ilso’s eyes.
“Good to hear.”
Internal energy exploded from his entire body. His red robe billowed outward, and every ornament hanging from him jingled violently as though it might shatter at any moment.
Even in the face of that overwhelming display, the Five Swords did not retreat a single step.
Faaah!
The five streaks of lightning rushed toward Jang Ilso once more without the slightest intention of giving up.
The energy blazing from their bodies bloomed like five petals of a red plum blossom at sunset.