Let Them Die Like Vermin (5)
The cool light in Chung Myung’s eyes was fixed straight ahead.
If it had been before, he would have been at the very front, swinging his sword harder than anyone else. But now he stood his ground, firm and unmoving.
Instead, his eyes swept quickly across the battlefield, as if he refused to let even a single sight escape him.
There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in the tips of anyone’s swords. These were the movements of swordsmen who knew exactly what they had to do.
Iron became hard only after it was struck by a hammer; a swordsman grew stronger only by shedding blood. The blood and sweat Mount Hua’s disciples had spilled until now had been more than enough to temper them.
And that labor, layered upon labor, was now bursting forth here.
“Fresh chicks, huh….”
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Chung Myung’s mouth.
No, “fresh chicks” no longer fit. Anyone who could feel the energy carried in those blades, anyone who could understand the flawless sword paths those sword tips traced, could never call them that.
Fwoosh!
Just then, someone’s Plum Blossom Sword Art bloomed red flowers amid the savage battlefield. Watching the plum blossoms spread everywhere, staining the land red, Chung Myung clenched his fist slightly.
It was a strangely nostalgic sight.
A sword was something you refined for a lifetime. There was no such thing as completion. People casually spoke of third level, twelfth level, but even reaching the twelfth level didn’t mean there was nowhere higher to go.
So he wouldn’t dare say it had been mastered. But one thing was certain: the Plum Blossom Sword Art the disciples of Mount Hua were now unleashing had reached a level that would not shame even the sages of old.
Only after so very long had they finally reached it.
Rubbing beneath his nose with a hand full of small scars, Chung Myung lowered the look in his eyes.
Now isn’t the time to feel smug.
For now, the priority was to punish those crazy bastards who had dared invade Xi'an and slaughter Mount Hua’s lay disciples.
And at that very moment, the figures of the Gangseo-chilsal charging out from the rear toward the front line came sharply into Chung Myung’s sight.
“Those bastards?”
The moment Chung Myung twitched and started to spring forward, an enraged voice rang out from one corner.
“Grrr!”
“Whoa, whoa. Calm down now!”
“No, Sahyung! Those bastards…!”
“Shh. Wait.”
“No!”
“I said wait. Didn’t you hear what Chung Myung said? He told us not to rush in blindly.”
“Uuugh.”
Watching Jo Gul, who had been on the verge of launching himself forward, pull back his backside with obvious frustration, Chung Myung also loosened the tension in his legs.
From the start, this battle hadn’t been prepared for them.
“Hngh.”
Chung Myung let out a sigh just like Jo Gul’s. Then several people leapt into the air to meet the incoming Gangseo-chilsal.
And the moment he saw one of them, Chung Myung’s eyes went wide.
“No, is that bastard…?”
Come to think of it, he hadn’t told that one not to step forward. Still, no matter how you looked at it, that bald monk bastard soaked in blood…?
“That— that bastard could make even Buddha turn away.”
Chung Myung’s face twisted the instant he saw that shining head glittering brilliantly in the light.
A strange expression flickered across the face of Yanwangbu, Go Song.
Making such a face in the middle of a battlefield might have seemed careless, but the situation he was in was more than enough to justify it.
Think about it.
Mount Hua was famous for its swordsmanship, sure, but that didn’t mean it only had sword techniques. It wouldn’t be strange at all if there were a fist specialist who made fists his main weapon.
A fist specialist whose internal power could send the charging Yanwangbu Go Song crashing to the ground in one blow? That wasn’t especially strange either.
But… for that fist specialist to be a blindingly shiny bald head was a little strange, and for that bald fist specialist to be exuding the famous golden Buddha light was even stranger.
And above all…
“Amitabha.”
“……”
What in the world was this bizarre creature?
In utter disbelief, Go Song tightened his grip on his Yanwangbu.
“Are you… a Taoist or a monk?”
“Amitabha. I am, naturally, a monk.”
“Then why… are you wearing a Taoist robe?”
Hye Yeon, the monk dressed in Taoist robes, went bright red.
“E-everyone has their own circumstances, so I ask that you not question me too deeply, benefactor.”
“…Is this really the time to say that? I’ve rolled around the martial world for decades and seen all sorts of crazy bastards, but I’ve never once seen a monk wearing a Taoist robe. Is that the sort of thing a sane man does?”
“……”
Hye Yeon shut his eyes tightly, his face still flaming red. Of course he knew exactly how strange this looked.
If Beop Jeong of Shaolin saw him like this right now, he would surely explode, shouting, “That madman has finally lost his mind! A Shaolin disciple wearing Mount Hua’s clothes? Why not stick a plum blossom in your head while you’re at it? Though with no hair, it’ll just slide off!”
Clothing symbolized affiliation. For a Shaolin disciple like him to be wearing Mount Hua’s robes was such a bizarre sight that even an evil sect member would have frowned.
But what else could he do?
The training that miserable benefactor had him do was not something cloth could survive. In the middle of training, his clothes would tear apart every now and then.
It was one thing to go scavenging for a new monk’s robe day after day, but he couldn’t do that for three full years.
Still, Hye Yeon had tried to uphold his duty.
But…
— Monk’s robes? Monk’s roooooobes? Has this damn bald monk gotten hit so much he’s gone crazy? You want me to go fetch monk’s robes so you can train in comfort? Have you lost your damn mind? Huh? Lost it? You’re sneaking into someone else’s sect while they’re in seclusion, wobbling in here and sticking your ass out, and now you want moooonk’s roooooobes?
There was no reasoning with that demon.
At first he had even tried to find ordinary clothes, not a monk’s robe, but… once you give up, many things become easier. In the end, he had no choice but to pick up whatever black robes were lying around and wear those.
“Shell.”
“What?”
“A shell is nothing but an outer covering. What matters is what is contained within it, is it not?”
“So a monk can just go around in a Taoist robe?”
“……”
“I’m really seeing all kinds of insane bastards….”
At that moment, Hye Yeon stamped his foot and struck out with his fist.
BOOOOM!
Go Song’s body bent backward as if it would snap. It was only because he had managed to raise his axe in time to block that he survived; if that force had landed on his head, it would have been a ripe watermelon by now.
Cold sweat poured down his brow. If a fist strike thrown with so little windup had that much force, then what in the world would happen if he properly gathered power and struck?
“Admittedly… your appearance is ridiculous….”
Hye Yeon said, his expression hardening.
“But I have no intention of playing around and exchanging jokes with you. You must answer for abandoning the duty of one who has learned martial arts, and for oppressing the weak.”
“You crazy monk bastard….”
Grinding his teeth, Go Song tightened his grip on the Yanwangbu.
That ridiculous appearance aside, the monk’s power was enough to chill the blood.
“Hoo.”
What was even more irritating was that cold, un-monklike gaze.
Shaolin, then?
He hadn’t really fought Shaolin monks before, but surely they weren’t all like this man. His eyes were less like a monk’s and more like a swordsman’s.
The instant he saw those blade-like, frigid eyes, it felt as though the blood in his veins froze.
Damn it.
But there was no time to keep probing. Even now, their formation was collapsing. They needed to help the front quickly—not merely to save those bleeding fools over there, but for their own survival.
At this rate, the others would all fall, and only their brotherhood would be left to face this many enemies.
“Yoooou!”
Go Song charged forward and brought his axe down with explosive force.
True to the name Yanwangbu, the power packed into his axe was beyond question. It was a force far beyond that of ordinary blades; in terms of sheer cutting and cleaving strength, no weapon under heaven could dare compare to an axe.
Whooooosh!
The sound of the axe splitting the wind drilled into the ears with enough violence to tear the eardrums apart. Just that noise and momentum alone were enough to make most martial artists wet themselves and collapse where they stood.
But even as he watched the axe fall toward his head, Hye Yeon’s eyes only sank darker.
Tap.
Hye Yeon’s foot moved forward by a short step.
Not the open, sweeping footwork he usually showed, but a profoundly practical stance that minimized the body’s motion.
Thud!
At the same time, he slammed his foot down in a forceful stamp and, carrying all that power with him, thrust his fist upward toward the falling axe.
Crazy!
Even Go Song, the attacker, was more shocked by the sight.
Blocking an axe with a fist? With a fist? It was an idea no sane person would entertain, something no human could possibly do.
Fine, you arrogant bastard. I’ll split you in half!
Go Song poured in every shred of internal energy he had. It looked as if he might cut Hye Yeon cleanly in two at any moment. Then his axe and Hye Yeon’s fist collided with ferocious force.
CRACK!
But unfortunately, what Go Song expected did not happen. Instead of the axe cleaving through flesh and bone, it rebounded as though it had struck an iron wall.
What?
Go Song’s eyes went wide enough to split open. And in that very instant, Hye Yeon seized the opening and surged toward him like a hawk.
“Hek!”
When Go Song saw Hye Yeon’s foot flying for his knee, he panicked and threw his body sideways, twisting away. But at that same moment, Hye Yeon’s body shot up into the air like lightning and kicked the wrist that held the axe.
CRACK!
A dreadful sound rang out. There was no need to feel the pain to know the wrist had been shattered in a single blow.
But what stunned Go Song wasn’t the kick that broke his wrist.
It was that absurd movement skill: Hye Yeon twisting the leg that had been aimed at him, kicking off empty air, and vaulting his body upward.
He could shift his body’s direction while stepping on empty space. That much was possible. But to use the void itself as a stepping stone so naturally, with no preparatory motion at all, while both men were moving at high speed in combat? He had never heard of such a thing in his life.
How…?
But it was too early to be shocked. Hye Yeon, having broken his wrist, twisted his body in midair and came rushing straight in front of Go Song.
At the same time, a single fist aimed for his face.
The Shaolin fist, with the thumb tucked in and the knuckles driving forward in a vertical line, came at him as if it meant to crush his face apart.
“Kgh!”
Grinding his teeth, Go Song twisted his waist backward. Hye Yeon’s fist narrowly brushed past the bridge of his nose.
I, I dodged—!
“Ghk!”
But his relief didn’t last even a heartbeat. The instant the fist brushed his face, Hye Yeon’s elbow folded and drove into his chest.
The impact smashed through his breastbone and sent blood surging from Go Song’s mouth.
“Uuugh…! AAAAAHH!”
Go Song flailed wildly, swinging his axe in a spasm. But Hye Yeon didn’t retreat—instead, he pressed even deeper into Go Song’s embrace. No matter how sharp an axe was, it couldn’t cut down someone who had already closed in as if to cling to him.
“Benefactor.”
At that moment, Hye Yeon’s hand touched Go Song’s abdomen with surprising gentleness.
“Evil deeds always come with a price.”
“N-no…!”
Thoom!
The inch-force unleashed from Hye Yeon’s fingertips where they met Go Song’s dantian shattered his insides completely.
“Kuhuk!”
Bright red blood erupted from Go Song’s mouth like a waterfall. As his vision blurred, he struggled to keep looking at Hye Yeon’s face.
“You… too… much….”
Thud.
No one could tell what he had been trying to say, but the emotion he felt at the end was unmistakable.
“Amitabha.”
Hye Yeon uttered a brief chant.
“May you live as a good man in the next life.”
With a single glance at the fallen Go Song, he turned his head and moved to find his next opponent.
Yanwangbu Go Song.
He had spread countless notorieties as the second of the Gangseo-chilsal, and yet his death had come with a hollowness that was entirely unlike the monster he was said to be.