White-Faced Mumu (3)
The morning of Mt. Hua's First Sword began earlier than any other disciple's. That was because the morning of his master and sect leader, Yeon Hochun, began early.
Even while fulfilling every duty of a sect leader, Yeon Hochun never neglected the teaching of Taeshin. In all his childhood, Taeshin had never once seen his master asleep.
Once he understood that Yeon Hochun's days ran longer than anyone else's in the Mt. Hua Sect, Taeshin began rising earlier than the rest — just as his master did.
On the morning of the Dragon Peak Conference semifinals, Taeshin rose before anyone else and sat cross-legged in his room.
At a glance he might have seemed to be circulating his energy. In truth, he was only sorting through his thoughts.
Until he had retired the night before, any number of people from the Mt. Hua Sect had come offering help, each of them guessing at the identity of White-Faced Mumu.
And he himself had someone in mind — a figure who made no sense at all.
Seeing him like that, Yeon Hochun had tossed out a single phrase and left.
Kill the Buddha, kill the patriarch. Meet the Buddha, and kill the Buddha. Meet the patriarch, and kill the patriarch.
"Hah… mmph."
The memory of his master's words startled a laugh out of him, and he hurriedly held his breath. The Yeon Hochun he knew would never say anything so extreme.
Perhaps he had overdone it drinking with a friend. Even so, Taeshin liked that side of his master. And he wanted to become a disciple that master could be proud of.
Jinmyung watched the sparring from the waiting room. Unlike the spectator stands, the waiting room sat close to the arena, close enough to study every form with care.
The Big Dipper Fist Phoenix and the Dang Clan's Hornet. It was a match between the Moyong Clan, which had restored its house with nothing but two bare fists, and the Sichuan Dang Clan, which ruled Sichuan not through any single overwhelming art but through an arsenal of weapons and methods that left no means unused.
The Dang Clan's Hornet. Across the half-month of sparring at the Mt. Hua Sword Debate, she had fought with a long whip coated in paralytic poison. The moment a match began she would lash the whip to drive her opponent back, then keep them moving without rest — that was her method.
Most opponents, worn down by constant evasion, found the struck flesh going numb under the Paralytic Whip and surrendered.
The sound of her whip cutting the air was said to resemble a swarm of wasps, and so the moniker stuck: the Dang Clan's Hornet.
The owner of that moniker, Dang Sohye, thoroughly despised it. Everyone else got names like Dragon or Phoenix — and she was stuck with a mere hornet?
That grievance had lasted only until a quarter-hour ago. The Moyong Ran she met in the semifinals was a true phoenix. When Dang Sohye first swung the Paralytic Whip, Moyong Ran had been busy dodging, just like everyone else.
But after twenty exchanges she struck the middle of the whip with her fingers and changed the path of the attack — sacrificing the smallest part of herself to dismantle Dang Sohye's entire strategy.
After thirty exchanges, Dang Sohye too was forced to use footwork simply to stay clear of Moyong Ran's strikes. And as they neared fifty, Dang Sohye reeled the whip back in.
Moyong Ran had spent every finger but the index of her left hand. And Dang Sohye was certain she could not dodge what came next.
To stop Moyong Ran she would need poison arts or hidden weapons. With the Paralytic Whip as a mere auxiliary tool, this was the limit.
Dang Sohye had known the assessments that said she would lose. What she had not expected was to say something like this when she did.
"I've lost. I learned a great deal, Unnie."
"I learned a great deal as well. Thank you."
Moyong Ran returned the courtesy with a fist salute, using the fingers that would no longer bend. Dang Sohye drew an antidote for the paralytic poison from her sleeve and handed it over.
The stands roared at the exchange between victor and vanquished. This — this was the Mt. Hua Sword Debate. Word ran through the crowd that they had just witnessed the true essence of sparring.
Behind his mask, Jinmyung smiled with quiet satisfaction. In every match until now, Moyong Ran had pressed her opponents with the Moyong Clan's Heavenly Wolf Step.
For all the wolf-like force of that pressure, the forms she showed had been nothing more than simple straight punches. At last, against Dang Sohye, she had used her fingers.
I can't gauge the exact level — but that is definitely the Soul-Chasing Finger.
Finger arts, like the Four-One Sword Method, were techniques specialized for thrusting. Jinmyung judged the counter would be straightforward.
After a brief clearing of the arena, Jinmyung and Taeshin faced each other for their match.
"I hear they call you White-Faced Mumu. I am Taeshin, First Sword of Mt. Hua."
Taeshin offered a fist salute as he spoke. Jinmyung returned the courtesy in kind.
"Please — just call me Mumu."
"I was under the impression you were not someone who would appear in a place like this… but I've decided that once you step onto the sparring grounds, I will treat you simply as an opponent."
"A fine thought."
Jinmyung had heard a great deal about Mt. Hua's First Sword. The Martial Alliance and the Mt. Hua Sect were close, and much was known of the sect's chief disciple.
A few days earlier, in his interview with Taeshin, Jinmyung had been able to confirm those stories. A pillar who would become the backbone of Mt. Hua.
A man of such character that he could serve as the solid trunk of a great tree, bearing the weight of everyone upon it — and yet sway with the branches when the wind rose, feeling what they felt. A true first-generation disciple in every sense.
Taeshin showed that same quality even to a sparring opponent: a seriousness that sought to reveal everything of himself, from first form to last.
His opening form was always Plum Blossom by the Roadside, the first form of the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Method. He made no attempt to hide it.
Unlike Taeshin, Jinmyung faced him in a horse stance, as he had in every previous match. Seeing Jinmyung settle into position, Taeshin struck first.
As if instructing a junior disciple, Taeshin stepped slowly through his footwork and executed Plum Blossom by the Roadside. The tip of his sword traced a small plum blossom hanging at the end of a branch.
And that plum blossom swayed as if stirred by a spring breeze. To the spectators it would look like a beautiful flower. To his opponent, it was the subtle principle of an illusory sword — a wildly trembling tip that concealed the true point of attack.
Even so, with Plum Blossom by the Roadside the point of attack narrowed along the line of the thrusting arm, and the place to dodge was plain enough. Taeshin was aiming near Jinmyung's solar plexus.
As if answering the plum blossom, Jinmyung thrust out his left hand from where he stood. Golden energy swirled around the extended palm.
Hand and plum blossom met. The crowd expected a crash of impact, as they had heard against Sumin — but the blossom merely scattered.
Taeshin ended the form at the precise point where sword and hand touched, and withdrew his blade. After the sword retreated a fraction, he began circling to Jinmyung's left.
Taeshin unfolded Plum Blossom Butterfly Dance. Modeled on a plum blossom swaying gently with butterflies drifting around it, the form trembled across a far wider range than the first, making the true point of attack nearly impossible to read.
On top of that, Taeshin was sliding into Jinmyung's blind spot with his footwork. Jinmyung tried to step back and keep him in front.
The instant he had Taeshin before him again, Plum Blossom Butterfly Dance unfurled in full. Swaying blades poured toward every part of Jinmyung's body.
Jinmyung steeled himself and moved his energy. A soft golden radiance rose faintly over his whole frame.
Again, no sound of collision. Taeshin withdrew his sword at the precise point once more.
Jinmyung found the behavior puzzling, but he had no time to dwell on it. Taeshin had already circled left again and vanished from his field of vision.
The moment Jinmyung shifted his feet to turn, Taeshin's sword swept toward his face with a speed unlike anything before.
Jinmyung folded his extended left arm to block. Or rather — he tried to. Taeshin's blade made contact with the energy coating his arm.
Unlike the earlier exchanges, the sword had come in just a fraction deeper, and the rebound force shoved it back. Accelerating off that rebound, Taeshin recovered his blade and launched the third form of the Plum Blossom Sword Method.
Plum Blossom Spitting Radiance. Taeshin's sword moved in a dizzying flurry straight at Jinmyung's face. Startled, Jinmyung threw his head back and retreated hard.
Only after three or four paces could he see Taeshin again. A faint plum-blossom fragrance lingered at the tip of his nose.
And between them, a white mask inscribed with the characters for Mumu — Without Martial Arts — lay on the ground.
"We meet again, Young Master Go Jinmyung."
"So this is the famous Clear Wind Step."
A clean wind that shakes the plum-blossom branches — the footwork of swordsmen who train in the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Method. Jinmyung realized that in every previous match, Taeshin had been using the ordinary disciples' Clear Cloud Step.
"You know the martial arts of Mt. Hua very well. Might I learn of Young Master's martial arts as well? I was so curious I couldn't sleep a wink."
A lie. The moment Jinmyung saw that awkward smile, he silently shouted it.
Still, the claim of curiosity was probably genuine. Taeshin had no reason to withdraw his sword — and yet he had stopped his attack simply to ask.
Jinmyung thought that if this had been a real fight, he would already have lost. His first contingency — concealing his identity — had not worked on Taeshin at all.
Even told to spar with a scarecrow, this man would offer a courtesy and fight with full seriousness.
The information the storytellers had given him about Taeshin — his second contingency — was equally meaningless. Like Jinmyung himself, Taeshin had been holding back three-tenths of his true ability.
Among all the rumors about Mt. Hua's First Sword, there had been no mention of him reaching the realm of Sword Qi Coating. Yet his Plum Blossom Spitting Radiance had pierced through Jinmyung's Protective Qi and torn the mask from his face.
"Well… if I had to give it a name, I'd call it Inki-jeongong."
Only then did surprise break across Taeshin's face. The name of a martial art could only be given by the one who created it. If Jinmyung's words were true, it meant he had forged a martial art of his own.
Taeshin composed his expression quickly — but Jinmyung was already certain that his third contingency would seize him the advantage.
He adjusted his stance and clenched his fists, ready at last to employ that third contingency: the use of his martial arts.