So, I Just Came Out? (4)
“Ugh……”
Gwak Hoe stumbled into the dining hall with a face as pale and lifeless as a corpse’s. No—“stumbled” was too generous. It was more accurate to say he had somehow hauled his own body in without collapsing on the way.
He lurched forward, then sank into a chair and clutched at it as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.
He felt like he was going to die.
It was a phrase he used casually all the time. But now Gwak Hoe couldn’t even bring himself to say it out loud. Only now did he truly understand that it was not a line to throw around so lightly.
Because he felt like he was going to die?
No.
Because the person in front of him looked like he was the one about to die.
“M-Master Uncle… are you all right?”
With trembling eyes, Gwak Hoe looked at Baek Cheon.
Baek Cheon slowly lifted his head. The moment Gwak Hoe saw his face, he nearly averted his gaze without meaning to.
My God…
It was truly a ghastly sight.
If someone had returned to Mount Hua after being away for ten days, there was no way they would have recognized that man as Baek Cheon.
The handsome face that had once stood out wherever it went was gone without a trace.
His cheeks had hollowed out so deeply that his cheekbones jutted starkly beneath the skin, and the area around his eyes had caved in so much he looked like a walking skeleton.
His once-bright, healthy skin had gone dark and lifeless, rough as pine bark, and the clear light that had always shone in his eyes had faded into something murky and rotten, like spoiled fish eyes.
He doesn’t even look human.
Just from the outside, he looked like someone who had been dug out of the ground and propped up in a chair.
“……Oh dear. Master Uncle……”
“Oh dear……”
No one who saw him could manage to say another word.
And yet no one asked why Baek Cheon had ended up like this. The reason was already carved into his body.
Beneath that gaunt face, his neck was still pale—
but it was covered in countless red lines, crisscrossing this way and that.
That bastard isn’t even human.
Looking at those wounds, Gwak Hoe shivered all over.
From that day on, Chung Myung fought Baek Cheon whenever he felt like it. And every single time they crossed swords, he left a fresh mark on Baek Cheon’s neck.
At first, no one understood. Why did Baek Cheon get visibly worse after every sparring session, despite not suffering any major external injuries?
But Gwak Hoe soon understood.
It was when Chung Myung knocked out every one of the Five Swords and gathered the third-generation disciples together for a group spar.
Only then did Gwak Hoe realize it.
There had been unmistakable killing intent in Chung Myung’s sword as it flew toward his neck without the slightest hesitation.
When that blade brushed coldly against his throat, Gwak Hoe had clearly felt death. In an instant, his consciousness had snapped and it had seemed as if his whole body was plunging into an abyss—an absolutely horrific sensation.
—You just died once.
When he came to, the sword he had definitely been holding was lying on the ground, and Gwak Hoe himself was slumped there, unable to steady even his own body, trembling all over.
For three days after that, he was tormented by nightmares.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he dreamed of a sword flying at his neck and cutting it off. He would wake up screaming, then barely fall asleep again only to lose his head once more.
That was when Gwak Hoe truly understood.
Just how deep and heavy the word “death” was, when people tossed it around like a habit and spoke of it as though it meant nothing.
I’m already like this after just one time.
How much suffering must Baek Cheon be enduring, forced to go through that situation dozens of times a day?
Thud.
“M-Master Sister!”
“Are you all right, Master Sister?”
“No, that Chung Myung bastard… seriously, he’s really done it this time…”
Yu I-seol staggered in and collapsed beside Baek Cheon. She looked no better than him. Anyone seeing her now would never imagine the usual Yu I-seol.
The only difference was that if Baek Cheon’s face had turned dark and corpse-like, Yu I-seol’s had gone completely bloodless, white as a dead body.
Then, forcing her chapped lips open, Yu I-seol muttered something.
“Y-yes, Master Sister?”
“……Out there. Geol…… Yoon Jong.”
“……Yes. I’ll bring them in now.”
Needless to say, Yoon Jong and Jo Gul were probably sprawled out on the training grounds, so she must have meant for someone to go fetch them. Everyone was exhausted to the bone, but they still managed to drag themselves to their feet and head out to deal with the two of them somehow.
Then, at that moment—
Creak.
The door opened with all the energy of a dying man, and one person entered slowly, carrying two others on his back.
“H-hiiik!”
“M-monk!”
Hye Yeon.
He was hauling Yoon Jong and Jo Gul into the dining hall, nearly dragging them along the floor.
“Q-quick, take them!”
“Please bring them here, Monk!”
Of course, he was Hye Yeon Monk—what was there to make a fuss over just because he was carrying two people? And yet, looking at his condition now, no one could help rushing over.
He looked as though he had gone ten years without food while meditating before a wall.
Hye Yeon staggered and clung to a chair.
Baek Cheon, Yu I-seol, and Hye Yeon silently met one another’s unfocused eyes.
Watching them, the disciples of Mount Hua swallowed back the tears welling up in their eyes.
Who would’ve thought seclusion would be like this?
They’d thought all they had to do was work themselves to the bone.
“……At least one thing’s clear.”
“What is it?”
Baek Sang gave a bitter laugh.
“……Closing the sect was the right call. There’s no way anyone should be shown this sight.”
“……”
Everyone nodded at that.
Who could possibly show anyone the sight of Chung Myung swinging his sword as though he were really trying to kill his seniors and fellow disciples?
In truth, they had already seen it several times while fighting beside him.
Every disciple of Mount Hua knew that the moment that brat entered actual combat with a blade in hand, he became a different person.
But they hadn’t known.
They hadn’t known what it felt like when that sword was pointed at them. They hadn’t known what the people who had faced Chung Myung until now had seen and felt.
Maninbang is a hundred times better.
Even when they had faced Maninbang, infamous among the evil factions for their vicious cruelty, they hadn’t felt this kind of fear.
“……Can we really endure this?”
Until now, their training had simply been an extension of effort.
But only a few days after this new training began, everyone realized something.
This wasn’t a process of effort.
This was a matter of overcoming.
Could they conquer the terror and fear that came with endlessly repeating sparring matches that were as real as actual combat—no, worse than actual combat—and still find their own sword?
Can we really do this?
The confidence that had filled them all sank away heavily.
“Senior Brother. At least eat some porridge. Otherwise you won’t make it.”
Baek Sang held out the watery porridge he had brought for Baek Cheon. Baek Cheon, who had been staring blankly at the ceiling, slowly turned his head. His eyes seemed to have so little strength in them that one had to wonder whether he even noticed the bowl of porridge at all.
And then—
Snap.
Baek Cheon suddenly snatched the bowl, opened his mouth wide, and gulped the porridge down in one go.
“S-Senior Brother?”
“Ugh!”
It seemed even porridge was enough to trigger nausea, because he clamped a hand over his mouth as though he might vomit. But Baek Cheon forced it down anyway, swallowing relentlessly.
Gulp.
He repeated that over and over until the bowl was emptied clean. Then Baek Cheon got shakily to his feet. Grabbing the sword he had propped beside him, he staggered toward the door.
“W-where are you going, Senior Brother?”
“……Training.”
“What? T-training? Have you lost your mind? You need to rest! Where are you going in that state?”
“……I have to.”
“What?”
Baek Cheon turned to Baek Sang with a dazed expression and muttered,
“……The afternoon…… training was combat practice. That alone…… won’t improve skill. I have to do sword training separately.”
“……”
“I can’t…… skip a single day. Not one day.”
Had this man completely lost his mind?
His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold his sword, and even now his legs were trembling like aspen branches, looking as though they might snap at any second.
And he wanted to do sword training with that body?
“There’s a limit to how far you can go, you know—!”
Then it happened.
Snap!
Yu I-seol grabbed the bowl of porridge from the table and, just like Baek Cheon, poured it straight into her mouth.
“W-what in the—?”
Hye Yeon did the same.
Even Yoon Jong and Jo Gul, who had been lying face-down on the floor, groaned as they slowly pushed themselves up and grabbed their bowls, shoving the porridge into their mouths however they could.
“Y-you have to eat…… have to eat to live……”
“Uuugh! Gah!”
The two of them somehow forced the porridge down and staggered upright.
“Kgh……”
“I’m really going to die……”
Sword in hand, they tottered out.
“H-hey, Senior Brother!”
“What the hell, you guys? Have you all gone crazy?”
Jo Gul turned his corpse-like face and looked back.
“……Didn’t you hear what Master Uncle said?”
“……”
“Sword training…… is separate.”
The disciples stared at him with their mouths hanging open.
“……Master Uncle must have it worse than we do…… How could I whine about it? Damn it.”
“Let’s go.”
“……Yes.”
Even Yoon Jong and Jo Gul staggered outside, and a cold silence settled over the dining hall.
“……They’re really out of their minds.”
“Can they even keep this up?”
From beyond the open door, the sound of swords cutting through the air drifted in from the training grounds, where the Five Swords had gone.
It had already been dark for some time……
As everyone sat there speechless in disbelief, Gwak Hoe finally spoke.
“By the way, where’s Chung Myung?”
“……Chung Myung’s still not done.”
“Huh? With what?”
Baek Sang sighed.
“After our training ends, he trains with the Master Uncles. After that, I think he’s supposed to train with the Elders.”
“……”
“And after that, he’ll probably do his own individual training too.”
Gwak Hoe’s vision went dark for a moment.
They were taking turns sparring with that bastard Chung Myung. But if Baek Sang was right, then Chung Myung was fighting from dawn until dawn again, endlessly battling over and over, and on top of that, he was doing separate individual training too?
“……Can a person do that?”
“Since when was that bastard a person?”
Baek Sang clenched his teeth with an irritated look and grabbed the bowl beside him, downing it in one go.
“Agh. Damn it. This is disgustingly bland. Tell them to add more salt.”
“Master Uncle?”
Baek Sang took up his sword and walked out.
“Let’s go.”
“……You’ll collapse if you do that, Master Uncle.”
“So what?”
Baek Sang said flatly,
“The Finance Hall doesn’t have anything to do anyway. We’re in seclusion, aren’t we?”
“……Pardon?”
“Even if we collapse, nothing special happens. So what’s the problem with collapsing?”
“……”
“It’s not like we can beat him in skill anyway.”
Baek Sang swept his gaze across every disciple in the dining hall and said,
“Then at the very least, we can’t lose in grit. Damn it. I may not have skill, but I’m not lacking grit.”
Those words seemed to strike a spark. A fierce glint returned to the eyes of Mount Hua’s disciples.
As if one and all had planned it, they grabbed the porridge bowls in front of them and gulped the contents down.
Thud!
They slammed the bowls down hard, then one by one rose to their feet, swaying.
“Who says we’re losing?”
“We’ve got plenty to say too. It’s only because Chung Myung keeps dragging the Master Uncles and Senior Brothers around that he looks so good. If I’d been in his place, it would’ve been different.”
“Just because the Five Swords are the Five Swords now doesn’t mean they’ll be the Five Swords forever. When seclusion ends, we’ll settle that again!”
The disciples in the dining hall surged outside.
Mount Hua’s training grounds did not welcome guests, and so the lights were not lit as brightly as usual.
Yet from the darkness of those grounds, the sound of swords being swung began to ring out without end.
Training with no one watching, no one forcing them—
the first step to surpassing their limits and overcoming themselves was to steel their resolve to see it through.
Gradually, a hard determination began to glint at the tips of Mount Hua’s swords.
Perhaps—
a determination that would remain at the tips of those swords for the rest of their lives.