Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Wudang (3)
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* * *
“It has been some time, Brother Ouyang!”
As soon as they arrived at Mount Wudang, Yeop Cheong appeared.
As he was greeted like a close friend, Ouyang Jue let out a dry chuckle.
'Does he really not know I was holding back then?'
Just in case, he glanced at Master Hyeon-geom, who subtly shook his head.
'So he didn't tell him.'
Ouyang Jue sighed inwardly, but he didn't forget to offer a firm clasped-fist salute.
"Quite some time has passed since the Nine Dragons Tournament, hasn't it?"
"Haha, it was so hot back then my robes were drenched. The weather is much cooler now, which is nice."
With that, he sent a subtle glance, as if asking for a sparring match.
When Ouyang Jue looked back at Master Hyeon-geom again, this time he shook his head vigorously.
-Go easy on him!
-It seems Brother Yeop Cheong will be the one to request the match…
-When he does, could you just humor him a little?
At those words, Ouyang Jue stroked his chin with his left hand. He reconsidered, but what was wrong was wrong.
If he held back now only to reveal his true strength later, Yeop Cheong would be deeply disappointed.
When he explained this briefly, Master Hyeon-geom nodded as if he had no choice.
But he did leave a request.
-Even if you win, make it a clean victory. If you do, I will reward you handsomely.
-It seems he wants to keep benefiting from the reputation of having fought me on equal footing at the Nine Dragons Tournament.
-...I won't deny it.
Still as calculating and opportunistic as ever.
Then again, it was because of people like Master Hyeon-geom that the Wudang Sect had thrived and survived for so long.
If Master Hyeon-geom, or more broadly, the Wudang Sect, had pursued only the pure Dao like Mount Hua, they would have politely refused the Ming Dynasty's aid.
'A proper balance between the Martial and the Dao.'
Ouyang Jue felt he had caught a glimpse in the Wudang Sect of the cornerstone Mount Hua should strive for.
The Martial was not a word that referred solely to martial arts or physical strength.
An individual's mental fortitude, and how well one utilized what they possessed, could also be called Martial.
Then what of the Dao?
It pursued absolute righteousness.
It was the study of benevolence, justice, and the teachings of ancient sages, guiding ordinary people to the true path.
But in the world of martial arts, one could not always adhere to it. In fact, there were times when the two conflicted and one had to be transgressed.
Thus, the Martial and the Dao, while seemingly completely different, were also strangely similar.
'This is a small debt, after all.'
Ouyang Jue looked at Yeop Cheong and nodded readily.
"Is there a suitable place to test our skills?"
"Ah, of course there is!"
Yeop Cheong responded with a bright, unreserved smile.
It was a smile of pure delight, without a single speck of ulterior motive, and it made Ouyang Jue feel a pang of guilt.
The man had requested a match thinking he was a worthy opponent. Wouldn't it be awkward if he won too easily?
'Well, I suppose it can't be helped.'
Ouyang Jue shook his head lightly and followed Yeop Cheong.
This would be an opportunity to see just how great his capacity was.
*Step.*
Standing ten paces from Ouyang Jue, Yeop Cheong rotated his arm in a full circle.
*Crack.* His tense muscles made a dull sound.
Hearing the sound, a dry laugh escaped Yeop Cheong's lips.
"Hoo."
He had trained relentlessly since the Nine Dragons Tournament, yet it seemed he still hadn't escaped the curse of his defeat.
'No. I can overcome this.'
Yeop Cheong steeled his fighting spirit once more and calmed his breathing.
Just then, Ouyang Jue asked.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Who will take the first move?"
"..."
At that question, Yeop Cheong hesitated for a moment. But he soon felt a sense of shame.
His face flushed as he caught himself about to ask if Ouyang Jue would yield the first move.
'Yeop Cheong, you fool. Instead of facing your opponent properly, you're nurturing this weakness within yourself.'
Immeasurable purity. Calming his mind, Yeop Cheong finally made his decision.
He chose one of the sparring methods used when swordsmen compete to determine the victor.
"Shall we cross swords in the center?"
"Crossing swords, you say."
At the unexpected suggestion, Ouyang Jue looked at Yeop Cheong in a new light.
Crossing swords. It was a method where two swordsmen competed using only pure martial skill, without employing their internal arts.
He glanced to the side and saw that Master Hyeon-geom's expression had relaxed somewhat. It seemed Yeop Cheong viewed him not so much as a master, but as a Daoist who had diligently trained in forms and fundamentals.
Of course, Ouyang Jue was confident in either case.
"An interesting proposal."
*Thud, thud.*
As he walked to the center, Ouyang Jue had to listen to two mental transmissions.
One was from his Senior Brother Liu Zhangming, telling him not to bother accommodating his opponent, and the other was from Master Hyeon-geom, once again asking him to handle it well.
He also felt the peculiar gaze of the Wudang Sect's Leader, Master Cheong-hwa, from a distance.
Ouyang Jue straightened his back.
He would not let his shoulders slump under the gazes of so many Daoists.
He was Ouyang Jue, the one who had learned the Mount Hua Sect's sword arts and inherited the internal energy of his Senior-most Brother, Ha Jin-ak.
If he showed any lack of confidence here, he would bring shame to many faces.
*Shing!*
Drawn from its scabbard, Severing Manifestation let out a clear ring. At the same time, its sharp aura cut through the wind.
"...?!"
Did they sense its extraordinary energy?
Several Daoists narrowed their eyes, staring at Severing Manifestation's blade.
Master Hyeon-geom, who had personally given it to Ouyang Jue, looked especially surprised, as if thinking, 'To think it was such a treasure.'
However, Ouyang Jue did not swing it any further.
*Thud.*
He placed Severing Manifestation, scabbard and all, on the ground. Instead, he borrowed a sword from a Daoist who was staring at him blankly.
"In a friendly spar, one should not rely on the power of their weapon."
Seeing Ouyang Jue's gentle smile, Yeop Cheong realized.
Why he couldn't help but be so tense when facing this man.
Why... he had already considered defeat.
Yeop Cheong briefly opened the hand that gripped his hilt. A cool breeze seeped between his fingers, chilling his hot sweat.
"I thank you for your consideration, Brother Ouyang."
There was nothing holding him back anymore.
The two Daoists, facing each other in the center, looked their opponent straight in the eye before crossing swords.
It was a ritual to properly see the master of the sword before the blades met.
And then.
They flew.
*Clang!*
The clashing swords were so fierce they sent sparks flying, even in the dry autumn air.
Their strength was perfectly matched.
Both were so well-trained that neither could easily gain the upper hand.
A hint of surprise colored Ouyang Jue's face.
'His physical strength is quite impressive.'
But what about his stamina? And the flexibility of his muscles?
Ouyang Jue's left foot slid forward like a serpent.
From a distance, one could see him closing in on Yeop Cheong's inside, but Yeop Cheong himself was unaware.
"...Kuh."
He was merely relieved that the force from the sword had weakened, failing to notice the subtle shift.
Noticing this, Ouyang Jue moved swiftly.
Half a step forward, deflecting Yeop Cheong's sword as if brushing it aside.
*Shriing, thwack!*
Ouyang Jue placed his blade against Yeop Cheong's neck and asked.
"Do you concede?"
"...This Yeop is thoroughly impressed."
Coincidentally, apart from a few masters, no one realized the difference in their levels during this sparring match.
This was because it wasn't a duel of familiar sword arts and forms, but a contest of pure movement.
The result was overwhelming, yet few could see it.
Master Hyeon-geom watched the two exchange clasped-fist salutes with a satisfied smile. However, he had to quickly erase it when he saw Liu Zhangming's displeased expression.
"We will spare no support in striking the Black Dragon Gang. If you wish, we can even connect you with the Martial Alliance."
Hearing Master Hyeon-geom's words, Liu Zhangming glanced at the spot where Master Cheong-hwa had been.
'It seems he has left the matter entirely to Master Hyeon-geom.'
Receiving a mental transmission from Ouyang Jue, Liu Zhangming slowly parted his lips.
"There is another proposal I would like to make..."
At the words that followed, Master Hyeon-geom couldn't give a definite answer and postponed his reply.
Liu Zhangming's proposal carried that much weight.
* * *
Meanwhile.
"Hah, hah..."
The Black Dragon Gang Leader's second son, Bai Dong-il, was breathing heavily.
Three corpses were scattered nearby.
While the Mount Hua Sect was pursuing great development and forming alliances, it had not lowered its guard against the Black Dragon Gang.
Moreover, did they not owe a debt to the Beggars' Sect and the Zhongnan Sect?
Even if Bai Dong-il was pushed out of the succession race and considered a weaker martial artist than the deceased Bai Cheong-il, he was not someone to be ignored.
The fact that he carried the blood of the Black Dragon Gang Leader was a very attractive aspect to his enemies.
For that reason, Bai Dong-il was now in a position where he was threatened not only by the orthodox sects but also by other unorthodox factions.
He was only enduring with grit, making up for his lack of skill.
"...Brother."
Bai Dong-il's gaze fell on the ornament hanging from the end of his sword hilt.
The piece of tiger skin that Bai Cheong-il had once given him as a birthday present was now just a scrap, barely large enough to serve as a decoration.
On top of that, it was caked in enemy blood and hadn't been properly cared for.
The rough fur pricked his skin.
The nauseating stench of blood also assaulted his nose.
Its yellowed color spoke of the fur's decay.
The sweet taste in his mouth and the sweat drenching his body made him feel heavy.
Bai Dong-il smiled bitterly.
Soon, a self-deprecating mumble escaped him.
"I know it too. That my turn isn't far off. You told me it was fine to live a life separate from the Black Dragon Gang, Brother. But it seems I won't be able to."
He could have left at any time.
When he first shook off the Beggars' Sect, if he had hardened his heart and fled to Sichuan, he could have saved his life.
Perhaps he could even have vowed revenge in the distant future.
But Bai Dong-il did not.
Instead, he stood on the road to the Black Dragon Gang and faced his enemies.
"...Though I am a little tired."
Bai Dong-il collapsed to the ground. The spot beneath him was soft and squishy, likely because the body hadn't been dead for long.
But he didn't feel sorry. They had been enemies who had fought to the death.
Bai Dong-il wasn't raised as the heir to the Black Dragon Gang, but that didn't mean he grew up as a weak martial artist.
He, too, was a martial artist of the Black Dragon Gang, and had reached the first-rate level.
As he thought this, a laugh escaped Bai Dong-il's lips.
"Puhaha."
It was laughable.
The brother he loved was dead, and his remaining father had abandoned him. Wasn't this the height of foolishness?
For a first-rate martial artist, what he was doing was utterly pathetic.
"Idiot, you fucking idiot."
He was finally starting to understand the words he had heard so often throughout his life.
Bai Dong-il tore a piece of cloth from the man he was sitting on and wiped his sword. Only then did he notice the blade had become jagged.
His condition must have deteriorated significantly, seeing as he hadn't noticed it by feel.
Bai Dong-il plunged the sword into the ground with all his might.
*Thunk!*
Then, Bai Dong-il got up and rummaged through the three corpses.
One blade was short, another's core was bent.
"Can't be helped."
Muttering to himself, Bai Dong-il grabbed a pickaxe leaning against the base of a tree and began digging in the nearby ground.
But the spot was filled with other corpses.
He must have dug in the wrong place.
A drop of sweat trickled down Bai Dong-il's forehead.
Only after digging next to it did he find the place where the weapons were buried separately.
"Ah, found it."
Just as Bai Dong-il picked up a sword with a faint smile.
"Ugh, graaaah! You bastard!"
A Daoist came rushing from the distance. He didn't know his rank, but there were no special markings on his robes.
Bai Dong-il wanted to ask him.
Was he angry for the ones who were buried?
Or for the ones he had just killed?
Then he shook his head slightly.
"I must have gone quite mad myself."
Blocking this path for a family that didn't even look for him, refusing to find a way to live for no good reason.
Truly a madman.
Didn't it suit Bai Dong-il's title, the Red Sword Demon?
"I ask for a bout."
"You madman!"
The shockwave from their first clash enveloped Bai Dong-il.
'My ears are ringing.'
A corner of Bai Dong-il's vision turned red.