Return of the Mount Hua Sect

It is a sight that is beyond extreme.

Although they were using wooden swords, the attacks that would not have been surprising if commoners were hit by it and would have lost their breath were repeated several times in a short period of time. Not only Chung Myung but also the disciples were spouting genuine killing intent from both eyes.

‘Killing intent…’

Who doesn’t know that the sword is ultimately meant to hurt the opponent? However, the sight of the disciples emanating such killing intent to their Sahyung did not sit well with Hyun Jong.

“…Isn’t this too extreme?”

Un Am, who was next to him, also groaned, expressing his concern.

“Extreme….”

Hyun Jong couldn’t deny it since he was thinking the same.

This was less like training and more like possessed people brawling, hitting, and attacking each other. It hadn’t been so aggressive at the start, but day by day, it was becoming increasingly vicious instead of improving.

“Shouldn’t we intervene?”

There were words of concern from Hyun Sang’s mouth, who was notoriously strict about training.

“No matter how hard it is, Mount Hua is a Taoist Sect. For those who follow the Tao to act so recklessly…”

“It is fine.”

“…Sect Leader.”

However, Hyun Jong, who was agonizing, shook his head.

“Don’t they act that way because they know all this?”

Then he looked at Chung Myung, who was running wild among the disciples with his sunken eyes.

“Rushing the one pulling the cart may be unpleasant. Complaining when things go too fast might be bothersome too. However, those are still things that one can say. Do you know what words that should not ever be said?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It is to nag others because their posture when pulling a cart is not correct.”

Hyun Jong looked at Hyun Sang and said,

“Would that even be appropriate advice for someone who forgo meal and furiously whips to arrive at the destination as fast as possible?”

“…I understand. Sect Leader. But if this continues…”

“I know.”

Hyun Jong sighed deeply.

“If the disciples end up hurt, there’s no point, is there?”

“…That’s right.”

“Chung Myung isn’t someone who doesn’t know that.”

Hyun Jong looked at Chung Myung with sorrowful eyes.

“He might care about the disciples even more than we do. Should we chide him when he’s struggling so much? For now, let’s just trust and watch.”

“…Understood.”

Hyun Jong sighed.

He knows that Un Am and Hyun Sang speak out of concern for the disciples.

But it’s not to blame Chung Myung. If anyone is to blame, it’s them for not leading the disciples properly.

‘Or maybe it’s my own greed.’

The best way to prevent harm to all disciples of Mount Hua is to abandon all influence over Kangho and never leave Shaanxi, secluded behind the gates.

In the meantime, even if that Evil Tyrant Alliance pushes into Gangbuk, Shaanxi will be the farthest due to its location.

But that’s not an option. Because it is never the right way. And the moment Mount Hua abandons its influence on Kangho, everything that the disciples have built so far with their blood will collapse.

It was a profound paradox.

Had they been nothing more than a nameless little sect, as in the past, the disaster engulfing the world would have bypassed Mount Hua. Neither the Righteous nor the Evil Sect would have bothered with a ruined sect in Shaanxi.

But that’s not the case now.

Mount Hua now wields great influence in the world. And it is the sect that must bear responsibility for that influence.

‘Responsibility…’

Hyun Jong closed his eyes.

If Hyun Jong was to take the responsibility alone, he would smile even in the depths of hell. His lifelong wish was to revive Mount Hua, so even if he sacrifices his life for it, it is not a waste at all.

That’s why his heart ached so terribly.

Because he realized that it wasn’t him but his disciples who were paying the price for what Mount Hua had gained.

‘I don’t know.’

Is this right, or wrong?

It is the roots deeply embedded in the ground that blooms colorful flowers. As such, the revival of Mount Hua, which he has long desired for all his life, may be achieved only by eating numerous things as nutrients.

‘Yuanshi Tianjun.’

When he opened his eyes, which he had briefly closed, Chung Myung was still wielding his sword. The figure was etched in his vision.

The training, which he couldn’t bear to see, continued for days.

As the days went by, the faces of Mount Hua’s disciples visibly darkened.

It was understandable.

No matter how much a disciple of a martial arts sect, they do not devote all twelve hours a day to training.

Mount Hua are Taoist Sect, so they have to do some work as Taoists, and there are times when they have to work hard to maintain such a large sect. Even if those duties didn’t exist, it’s not like they have to exert themselves every single moment in training.

But everything changed from the moment Mount Hua entered Bongmun.

From the moment they open their eyes to the moment they fall asleep, they strive without rest. But what was even more difficult than the physical pain was having to maintain tension every moment they opened their eyes.

It feels like sharpening your mind with a keen blade, non-stop.

A sparring where all the deadly force in one’s killing intent is brought out in order to cut each other down in any way possible. No matter how familial the relationship is, ill feelings are bound to accumulate. That would be the norm.

However, there was no such problem for Mount Hua. It’s not because their relationship was extremely close, but because they weren’t even afforded the leisure to chew on ill feelings.

In the extremes of the battlefield, emotions like that tend to vanish.

A mind pushed to its limits.

And a body pushed to its limits.

Just when everyone started to question whether such training improves skills or rather only wears out the body.

It happened.

Ttaak!

“….”

“….”

The sharp sound echoed, and for a moment, silence descended.

Yoon Jong’s pupils trembled.

The one who was bleeding profusely had forgotten even to staunch the blood flowing from his nose and dumbly stared at the scene, and the one who was knocked down abruptly sprang up, mouth agape.

The one who was rushing in froze in place, and the one who was exhausted clenched his fists.

“Uh….”

Yoon Jong’s eyes were fixed in one place.

His wooden sword.

His wooden sword, which had dents here and there due to intense training, was touching someone’s side.

“…It touched?”

Yoon Jong’s eyes shook violently again.

Someone might ask, ‘Isn’t it natural that the attack is successful because you’re training?’

But this was by no means natural.

Because the person his wooden sword touched was none other than Chung Myung.

“Huh?”

Unable to believe his own eyes, Yoon Jong slowly opened his mouth. And then he realized.

He has been training with Chung Myung for years, but this is the first time his sword has touched Chung Myung’s body.

No.

Even among all Mount Hua’s disciples, this is the first time.

“It, It touched! Dammit! It touched!”

The moment a loud yell burst from Yoon Jong’s throat—

Pook!

Chung Myung kicked Yoon Jong’s solar plexus. Yoon Jong rolled back without even making a sound.

Yet, as if not hurt, he sprang up like a spring and screamed.

“Euaaaaaaaaa! I stabbed him! I stabbed him! Euaaaaaaa!”

Then, an enormous cheer erupted among the surrounding Mount Hua’s disciples.

“We did it! We did it! Euaaaaaaa!”

“We finally landed one on that freaking bastard!”

“How does it feel, you son of a beast!”

It was surprising where such energy remained. Those who had been having a hard time standing until a while ago tore their hair out, jumped up, and shouted in place.

“Euaaa! Sahyung!”

“Yoon Jong, you punk!”

“Hey! You’re finally doing your meal’s worth!”

It can’t be a big deal.

It shouldn’t be a big deal.

Managing to land a single strike when dozens are rushing in is not something to be happy about—it should be embarrassing.

However, none of that common sense mattered to them at that moment.

A distance that seemed like it would never be reached. This is because the distance, which was so far away that it was uncomfortable to even look at, has definitely narrowed down at this moment.

“Tsk.”

Chung Myung rubbed his side lightly with his hand.

A dull pain emanated from the side. The feeling was both familiar and unfamiliar.

And yet…

Funny enough, he doesn’t feel bad. No, rather, his lips quivered slightly as they curved upward.

Chung Myung composed his expression and opened his mouth.

“You’re pleased just because you got lucky once. Pathetic.”

Yoon Jong approached Chung Myung with a stiff face at the icy gaze.

And stood there, straightening his back.

“You.”

Chung Myung frowned as Yoon Jong pointed with his finger.

Looking straight at Chung Myung, Yoon Jong mimicked slicing his own throat with his outstretched finger.

“You’re dead once now.”

“….”

Chung Myung’s frozen expression twisted for an instant.

“That…”

“Wahahahahahahahahahahahahahat! How do you feel?”

“No….”

“Whoa! A corpse is speaking! Neighborhood people! Come take a look! A corpse is speaking!”

“Call the Taoist right away!”

“We’re the Taoist, you crady punks!”

“Wahahahahat! We’ve got a Jiangshi here!”

Udeuk.

Strength flowed into the hand of Chung Myung, who was holding his wooden sword. At the same time, a vein popped on his forehead.

“But these Sahyung bastards….”

“Ha.”

At that moment, Jo-Gol covered his face with one hand and shook his head in disbelief.

“Damn it, it should have been me who did it first. But Sahyung got it first.”

“It’s okay. The neck is still there. He won’t die from a hit to the side.”

“Yes, Sago! The head is mine!”

“Keuhum.”

Baek Cheon, who was listening quietly, let out a loud cough then spoke.

“In Kangho, there are hierarchies, shouldn’t you concede this to your Sasuk?”

“Since when is there hierarchy in Mount Hua!”

“…That’s not wrong, Soso, but it sounds especially strange coming from you.”

Isn’t it, you youngest one?

Everyone couldn’t calm their excitement and hopped around.

When people get tired, it’s not when they’re having a hard time. It is when there is no hope in sight.

For those growing weary, Yoon Jong’s sword certainly offered hope. Very small and feeble, but undeniably clear.

“That guy has always said something countless times.”

Holding his sword, Baek Cheon chuckled as he approached Chung Myung.

Other Mount Hua’s disciples then giggled and began to surround Chung Myung.

“The first time is always hard.”

“From the second time, it’s not a big deal.”

“Right?”

“Yes, indeed.”

Chung Myung looked at his Sahyung, which narrowed the encirclement. The way they slowly narrowed the distance was like a pack of wild dogs cornering a rabbit.

“Ha….”

Chung Myung twitched the corner of his mouth and opened his mouth.

“If you mistake luck for skill….”

But even before he could finish his sentence, loud shouts erupted from all sides.

“Luck is also a skill!”

“Why? After being stabbed and killed on the battlefield, you’re gonna complain to King Yama that you were just unlucky?”

“Who listens to the excuses of a corpse? Huh?”

“….”

You reap what you sow.

That was something Chung Myung said to them.

“Amitabha.”

Right then, Hye Yeon who had been quiet for a long time solemnly began to chant with a stern face, as one expected from a Buddhist monk. Clearly, he wasn’t fond of this atmosphere…

“Your tongue’s too long, Siju. If you’re dead, lie down. I will at least chant a prayer for you.” (Your tongue’s too long = you talk too much.)

“Kikikikik.”

“Hihihihihik!”

“Hey! With a monk and this many Taoist priests, our Chung Myung must have reached the Land of Paradise. He earned it!”

Sounds of approving laughter erupted from all directions. Veins sprang up one after another on Chung Myung’s forehead.

“Come here…..”

Fire erupted from his eyes.

“Let’s go to hell today! You damn Sahyung bastards!”

“Kill him!”

“Crush him!”

“The head is mine!”

Mount Hua’s disciples roared and charged again towards Chung Myung.

A body that looks like it might collapse at any moment.

Pain coursing through their entire being.

But even in that agonizing moment, a clear smile was present on the lips of Mount Hua’s disciples.