Acting Like a Nobody (2)
He had admitted the difference from the very beginning.
Jin Geum-ryong had been called a genius among geniuses since childhood. Of everyone Baek Cheon knew, he was the one who most deserved the word genius.
He had already experienced defeat.
Not only at the last Hwajong Jihoe, but even before that, Baek Cheon had never once managed to beat Jin Geum-ryong. He had only tasted the bitterness of a crushing loss.
And yet.
“I thought I’d closed the gap.”
He had tried so hard.
Chung Myung had dismissed his efforts as worthless, but in his own way Baek Cheon had truly endured grueling, bone-cutting training. At the very least, he was confident he had trained twice as much as Jin Geum-ryong.
So he had believed that even if he couldn’t win, he had at least narrowed the difference a little.
But reality was always more miserable than imagination.
Fwoooosh!
“Ghk!”
Jin Geum-ryong’s sword slammed into Baek Cheon’s ankle. Baek Cheon staggered, nearly falling, and clenched his teeth as he desperately fought to keep his balance.
If it had been a real sword, his ankle would have been severed just now. Because it was a wooden sword instead of a real blade, it had ended at that.
But then again, because it was not a real sword, it did not even grant him the luxury of a proper defeat.
Why can’t I even touch him?
Why?
He had worked so hard!
Fwoooosh!
Jin Geum-ryong’s sword flew in again and smashed into Baek Cheon’s opposite thigh.
The impact was strong enough to feel as though the bone might shatter. His mind went blank for an instant, but he did not even let out a cry, much less a groan. Instead, he slammed his wooden sword into the ground, used the rebound, and hurled himself forward.
“Aaaaaagh!”
His sword came crashing down, aimed at Jin Geum-ryong’s head. A simple strike, stripped of all variation. But that only made it faster, sharper.
“Too slow.”
But Jin Geum-ryong ruined that desperate blow perfectly by simply stepping to the side and twisting his body.
Fwoooosh!
Jin Geum-ryong’s sword struck Baek Cheon’s left shoulder.
His flesh burst open, and blood sprayed into the air.
“Kkgh.”
One more attack and the bout would be perfectly over. Yet Jin Geum-ryong did not finish him. Instead, he took a single step back.
Then he looked down at Baek Cheon with a face full of nothing but arrogance.
“Ugh...”
Baek Cheon placed one hand on the ground and somehow forced his body upright again.
...
Bloodshot eyes.
Eyes that were wracked with pain, yet still burning with fighting spirit as he glared at Jin Geum-ryong.
“Oh?”
Jin Geum-ryong looked at Baek Cheon as if genuinely surprised.
“You can hardly stand, and yet your spirit is still kicking.”
He lifted his sword and pointed it at Baek Cheon.
“But that is all. Even if you lived your whole life, you would never cut even one corner of my robe.”
“...Why?”
“You really are lacking in comprehension. I explained it to you so thoroughly.”
Jin Geum-ryong swept his gaze around the surroundings, then spoke.
“It means the difference between your Mount Hua and our Southern Edge Sect is that vast. Mount Hua’s martial arts are simply incapable of contending with Southern Edge Sect’s martial arts. A hundred years! A thousand years! It will be the same!”
It was an outrageously arrogant declaration.
And yet no one could refute it. Even the Mount Hua disciples who heard those words with their own ears only bit their lips until they nearly bled, unable to shout in anger.
Hyun Jong shut his eyes tightly at the sight.
How much more are we supposed to endure?
What man could understand the position of one who, as the sect leader of a sect, could do nothing even when a mere second-generation disciple spat out such arrogant words in front of him?
Ancestors.
Please forgive my sins.
But Jin Geum-ryong’s arrogance did not end there.
He smiled at Baek Cheon.
“If you want to catch up to me even now, you’d better leave Mount Hua immediately. There’s no future here. A fallen sect only offers ridicule to those who remain.”
Baek Cheon clenched his teeth.
“I am... a disciple of Mount Hua.”
“Excellent. A man should be that way. However...”
Jin Geum-ryong surged forward, sword raised.
Baek Cheon tried to block the incoming strike somehow, but his arms would no longer move.
Thwack! Thwack-thwack-thwack!
With the sound of a great leather drum being beaten, Baek Cheon was struck over ten times in an instant and finally collapsed onto his side.
Thud.
Jin Geum-ryong glanced at the unconscious Baek Cheon and twisted his lips into a smile.
“That said, I have no intention of going easy on you. Ah, dear me. Was I a little late in saying that?”
With a vile smile, Jin Geum-ryong casually withdrew his wooden sword. Then he stepped over the fallen Baek Cheon and walked back toward his own side.
Defeat.
It was nothing less than a perfect defeat.
“Senior brother!”
“Sasuk!”
Only then did the Mount Hua disciples come to their senses and rush out onto the training ground.
“Sa, Sasuk!”
“Don’t touch him carelessly!”
“...”
Baek Sang carefully lifted the unconscious Baek Cheon into his arms and stood there in silence for a brief moment, lowering his head. Then, with a face horribly twisted, he barked out in fury.
“This is going too far!”
Jin Geum-ryong, who had been returning to his place, turned his head to look at Baek Sang.
“What exactly is going too far?”
“This is a martial match! How can you injure your opponent so severely in a martial match?”
“A martial match... So he ended up like that because it was only a match, did he not?”
“...What?”
A sneer curved Jin Geum-ryong’s mouth.
“If I had been using a real sword, what do you think would have happened to him by now?”
“...”
“Because it was a martial match, he was able to keep his life. Was that not fortunate?”
“How can you be so utterly shameless...”
“Don’t be so angry.”
“...”
Jin Geum-ryong chuckled lightly.
“I was rather surprised myself. I never imagined he’d be that weak. I thought he’d be able to block at least a little. For that, I apologize.”
Baek Sang bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.
It was a complete defeat.
And an insult that went far beyond the limits of decency.
His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and blood seemed to be running in reverse through his veins. If he could, he wanted to drag that bastard over and tear him to pieces.
But there was nothing Baek Sang could do right now.
“Take Senior Brother to the Medicine Hall! Now!”
“Yes!”
As the disciples carried Baek Cheon away, Baek Sang drew his wooden sword.
“Then let me have a look at that famous Southern Edge Sect sword for myself!”
“That shouldn’t be difficult. Seo Han.”
“Yes! Senior Brother!”
“Take care of him.”
“Understood!”
Jong Seo-han grinned and stepped into the training ground.
Watching him stroll forward with easy confidence, Baek Sang clenched his wooden sword until it seemed ready to snap.
Unlike the increasingly grim atmosphere of the martial ground, the spectators were in an exceptionally cheerful mood.
“Indeed, splendid.”
“That Baek Cheon fellow was stronger than expected. But Jin Geum-ryong’s achievement surpasses all expectations.”
“Truly a man worthy of the title ‘the greatest genius of Shaanxi.’ And is Southern Edge Sect, which produced such a disciple, not also deserving of being called Shaanxi’s greatest sect?”
“That is certainly true. Hahaha!”
Hwang Mun-yak’s expression stiffened.
So this is what merchants are like.
Was this what people meant by hating their own kind?
A man was being carried out in a pitiful state, and none of these people cared in the least. Even after seeing force that was far too excessive for a martial match, not one of them criticized it.
Then again, perhaps that was only natural.
These people were interested solely in measuring Jin Geum-ryong and Southern Edge Sect’s strength so they could figure out how to turn that strength into money.
Hwang Mun-yak himself was not all that different from them, but for this one moment, he could not hide his disgust for the lot of them.
This is too miserable a defeat.
Baek Cheon and Jin Geum-ryong.
Though they represented Mount Hua and Southern Edge Sect, the result was not merely one-sided—it was bewildering.
Until the very end, Baek Cheon had not even managed to brush Jin Geum-ryong’s robe.
If the Hwajong Jihoe continued like this until the end, no matter what Mount Hua did, it would never regain its former glory.
No, there was a high chance its collapse would only accelerate. No one would recognize Mount Hua.
Even if Hwang Mun-yak poured money into it as much as he liked, this was not something that could be reversed. It was practically a death sentence.
Chung Myung. What exactly are you thinking?
He had gathered people so confidently and set the stage; naturally, Hwang Mun-yak had assumed he must have some hidden plan. But now even that was beginning to seem doubtful.
Have I overestimated Chung Myung?
Hwang Mun-yak’s gaze settled on Chung Myung.
“...Will Sasuk be all right?”
“He won’t be.”
“Was he badly hurt?”
“Very badly.”
“...”
At Chung Myung’s indifferent response, Yoon Jong finally snapped, his face dark with anger.
“Even if you don’t get along, he’s your sasut. Your martial uncle was beaten like that, and you’re really not bothered at all?”
“Calm down, Senior Brother.”
“You little—”
“I said calm down.”
At Chung Myung’s low voice, Yoon Jong’s eyes narrowed slightly. This was not at all like Chung Myung’s usual reaction.
“Then did you think he’d win?”
“...”
Yoon Jong bit his lip tightly.
He had not expected him to win. But... he had thought he would at least preserve some measure of dignity. Baek Cheon was the prodigy upon whom all of Mount Hua’s hopes rested.
Perhaps the reason Yoon Jong was so worked up right now was less because Baek Cheon had been injured and more because he had lost so miserably.
Was the gap with Southern Edge Sect really this wide?
They kept saying Nine Sects and One Gang, Nine Sects and One Gang, but to the disciples of Mount Hua, the Nine Sects had never felt that extraordinary. Mount Hua had once been one of them, after all.
Though they had fallen now, they had believed that with time and effort, they might one day stand on equal footing with the Nine Sects again.
But the wall of the Nine Sects was far higher and far more immense than they had imagined.
Chung Myung snorted.
“If hard work alone could solve everything, there wouldn’t be any people in this world who weren’t masters. What matters isn’t whether you work hard, but how you work hard.”
“...”
“Watch carefully from here on out. All the second-generation disciples are going to lose.”
“All of them?”
“There isn’t a single one who can win. Well, there is one... but from the looks of it, he doesn’t seem like he’ll go out.”
Yoon Jong’s face hardened.
The second-generation disciples had ended the previous Hwajong Jihoe with a record of two draws and eight losses.
It was a disastrous result.
And now he was saying they wouldn’t even manage a draw this time?
So this is how they lose.
So miserably.
But just then Chung Myung’s eyes widened and he looked at Yoon Jong.
“Lose? Who’s losing?”
“Huh? You just said—”
“That was the second-generation disciples!”
“...”
Chung Myung’s eyes gleamed.
“You think those Southern Edge bastards can leave Mount Hua after winning? Like hell they can. Not while I’m standing here with both eyes open! I’d rather have dirt in my eyes than let that happen!”
“...”
“So warm up. Looks like we’re going to have to be a little more flashy.”
“No, I mean...”
Just then—
“Aaaaaaagh!”
Yoon Jong jerked his head around in a hurry. At last, his eyes landed on Baek Sang, who was sprawled pitifully on the ground.
Jong Seo-han nudged the fallen Baek Sang with the tip of his foot.
“You still look like you can fight.”
“Ugh...”
“For someone with such a big mouth, you’re pretty pathetic.”
Jong Seo-han glanced at Baek Sang, then lifted his head to look at the Mount Hua disciples. He even smiled smugly, as if to say, Come on, then.
Chung Myung opened his mouth.
“Hey, that bastard—”
“Catch him!”
The third-generation disciples swarmed forward and grabbed Chung Myung, hanging off him with all their might.
Seeing that, Jong Seo-han let out an incredulous laugh.
“What an unbelievable sight. This really is a strange sect.”
“Oh, really?”
Chung Myung’s eyes turned slightly feral.
“Let’s see how long that mouth keeps smiling.”
I’ve got you marked, bastard.
It’s too late to regret it now!