Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 318

Beopgye stared at Beopjeong, who sat silently in a cross-legged position.

Except for the impressive white beard that reached his chest, he seemed like an ordinary old monk.

If he wasn’t wearing the yellow robes that symbolized Shaolin, no one would likely pay him any attention. Beopjeong’s appearance was that unremarkable.

But sometimes, Beopgye couldn’t help but wonder.

‘Just how much knowledge and wisdom does this man possess?’

The Abbot of Shaolin.

Beopjeong.

Some people whispered that Beopjeong didn’t seem strong enough to be the Abbot of Shaolin.

The Abbots of Shaolin, who had historically guided the martial world, had always been influential figures. Only those capable of leading with their profound Buddhist teachings and strategic minds could become the Abbot of Shaolin.

Compared to those past Abbots, Beopjeong, the current Abbot, was very unassuming. Because of this, some people doubted his ability to lead Shaolin.

But Beopgye disagreed.

Having observed Beopjeong closely, he knew that this seemingly ordinary old man was more than capable of leading Shaolin.

In fact, he might be even better suited to be the Abbot of Shaolin than any Abbot in history.

“Abbot.”

Beopjeong, who had been sitting cross-legged, slowly opened his eyes.

He looked at Beopgye, who was sitting quietly before him, and a gentle smile appeared on his face as he spoke.

“What is the world’s reaction?”

“Amitabha. It is as you predicted, Abbot.”

“Is that so?”

Beopjeong’s voice was completely calm, as if he were hearing that the sun had risen in the east once again. As if he were acknowledging something ordinary and insignificant.

Seeing that calmness, Beopgye couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Abbot.”

Beopjeong chuckled slightly at his tone.

“There’s passion in your voice.”

“…I apologize.”

“It’s alright. Ask what you need to ask.”

Beopgye nodded respectfully and began to speak.

“Did you plan all of this from the beginning, Abbot?”

Beopjeong smiled mysteriously at his slightly trembling voice.

“A question must first clearly convey its meaning. What exactly are you asking?”

“…Abbot…”

Beopgye glanced down at the tournament bracket, which now showed only four names remaining.

“Did you plan this whole situation from the start?”

Then Beopjeong smiled gently.

“You’re curious about something that may or may not have a specific meaning. What if I did, and what if I didn’t? The important thing is that things have turned out this way.”

Beopgye sighed deeply.

Even though he spoke like that, Beopgye was certain that Beopjeong had planned this entire situation.

The reason?

It was quite simple: this was the best possible outcome for Shaolin.

What was Shaolin trying to achieve through this tournament?

‘Harmony.’

Yes, to put it nicely, it was harmony.

“…The world often misunderstands.”

Beopgye continued, looking quietly at the Abbot before him.

“They say that harmony is created through mutual compromise and understanding.”

“How is that a misunderstanding?”

“Because they have forgotten one important thing.”

Strength filled Beopgye’s voice.

“In order to understand each other and compromise, one must first accurately understand their own position and the position of the other party. Weren’t you trying to make the nine major martial arts groups understand their position, Abbot?”

Beopjeong softly chanted the Buddha’s name without replying.

“Having come this far, even I understand your plan, Abbot. None of the nine major martial arts groups, except for Shaolin, managed to get a single disciple into the final four. And the one who took that place is, coincidentally, Hwasan, who has now been excluded from the nine major martial arts groups.”

The fact that the nine major groups, excluding Shaolin, failed to secure even one spot in the final four was more significant than it seemed.

And what made that meaning even deeper was Hwasan’s rapid rise.

If Shaolin could win the championship as things stood, the nine major groups would be caught between Shaolin, who had demonstrated their continued dominance as the guiding light, and Hwasan, who was rising incredibly fast, leaving them powerless.

If that happened, the nine major groups would have no choice but to accept Shaolin’s help.

Because there would be no better way to restore their honor than to be acknowledged by Shaolin, who had once again proven themselves to be the beacon of the martial world.

In the end, this tournament had unfolded entirely according to Shaolin’s will from beginning to end.

‘No, it flowed according to the Abbot’s will, not Shaolin’s.’

Beopgye felt a slight chill run down his spine.

Hidden beneath that gentle smile was a cunning plan that grasped and influenced the world. But how many people knew that fact?

Those who didn’t know Beopjeong’s true nature would believe his unassuming and plain exterior to be his true self.

“Abbot, may I ask one more question?”

“Your heart is full of questions today. What are you so curious about?”

“Did you foresee from the beginning that Hwasan would be this strong?”

Beopjeong smiled gently at that question.

“How could I?”

“Then?”

“If I could guess what I haven’t seen with my own eyes, how would I be different from the Buddha? I haven’t reached such a state. But if one cannot recognize what one sees, then they are simply a fool.”

Beopjeong’s slightly lowered eyes gleamed darkly.

“I simply wished for a good outcome for everyone. Shaolin can prove itself, which is good, and the nine major groups can escape their deep arrogance and re-evaluate their positions, which is beneficial in the long run. And Hwasan…”

A brief silence fell. He paused for a moment before speaking again.

“Hwasan will be able to escape its long darkness. Amitabha.”

Then, he chanted the Buddha’s name softly and looked at Beopgye.

“Harmony is not achieved by good intentions alone. True harmony is created through rules. Even Shaolin, which follows Buddhist law, has a Precepts Hall to punish monks when they break the rules. To simply discuss harmony with those who do not adhere to Buddhist law is meaningless.”

“Your words are wise.”

“When this tournament is over, all the groups in the world will find their roles once again.”

“Amitabha.”

Beopgye also closed his eyes and chanted the Buddha’s name.

He couldn’t even begin to guess what Beopjeong was truly thinking.

However… just one thing.

“But Abbot.”

“Hmm?”

“All of that will only happen if Shaolin wins this tournament, won’t it? If… by some chance, if Hae Yeon fails to defeat that child…”

“Are you referring to the Divine Dragon of Hwasan?”

“Yes.”

Beopjeong wore a subtle expression.

Beopgye couldn’t hide his surprise at that face, because a myriad of emotions flashed across Beopjeong’s face, who usually didn’t reveal his emotions well, for a moment: regret and anticipation, joy and sorrow.

“Divine Dragon of Hwasan… He is truly worthy of being called a talent.”

Beopjeong quietly shook his head.

“But the current Hwasan is not enough to nurture his talent. Hwasan has succeeded in reviving the Plum Blossom Sword Technique through great effort. If things continue like this, returning to the nine major groups is not just a dream, but that is all. To move beyond that, the Plum Blossom Sword Technique alone is not enough.”

“…”

“It is a pity, a great pity. If he had entered Shaolin, he could have created a millennium of glory with Hae Yeon.”

Determination flickered in Beopjeong’s eyes.

“But if that is fate, then that child must accept it as well. Even if that child is a genius who surpasses Hae Yeon, the Plum Blossom Sword Technique can never withstand the Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin. That is like facing a longsword with chopsticks.”

“Amitabha. Then there will be no disruption to your grand plan, Abbot.”

“Yes, that is how it will be.”

Beopjeong’s gaze slowly subsided.

‘And if my plan is disrupted…’

The harmony he had planned would all collapse, because the axis of the world would be divided into Shaolin and Hwasan.

It was only a small crack now…

‘Perhaps that small crack could lead the world into unprecedented chaos.’

The peaceful Buddhist words from Beob Jeong felt important.

He would never allow such a thing to happen.

Never!

“Junior sister,” Baek Cheon said softly.

“Yes, Senior Brother.” Yoo Iseol’s voice was calm and light as a feather.

Baek Cheon watched her closely. Sunlight streamed through the high windows of the training hall, illuminating the dust motes dancing around her head. Her face was serene, almost untouched by worry.

‘She really doesn’t seem nervous,’ he thought, a flicker of admiration in his chest.

Even as his junior sister, Yoo Iseol was a truly unique person the more he looked at her.

The one she had to face today was none other than Hae Yeon.

Baek Cheon wondered how he would fare in her place. But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine maintaining such calmness as she did.

Everyone knew she was strong. In fact, except for Cheong Myeong, she was the strongest disciple in Mount Hua.

‘Well, junior sister has always been like that.’

Maybe calmness is the most important thing for a swordsman. If so, she was the most like a true swordsman in Mount Hua. Just as Cheong Myeong had said.

“Are you confident?”

“No.”

“…Is that so.”

Yoo Iseol, not one for many words, seemed to think she should add something this time, and opened her mouth again.

“However.”

“Hmm?”

Yoo Iseol slightly turned her head to look at the sparring arena.

“It’s not for the sake of winning.”

“⋯⋯.”

Baek Cheon watched Yoo Iseol in silence for a moment. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, warming his features.

“Right. That’s right. That wasn’t everything.”

He had forgotten for a moment.

That this competition wasn’t just a place to produce results.

The result they wanted when they first came here was to announce to the world that Mount Hua had returned. And they had already achieved that result sufficiently.

What remained?

‘To learn.’

And to grow further.

Even he, the Great Senior Brother of Mount Hua, had momentarily forgotten what only Yoo Iseol had steadfastly remembered.

‘At this rate….’

Baek Cheon gave a wry smile and said,

“Junior sister.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you fight? What’s it all for, for you?”

It was nothing special. Perhaps it was just a way to avoid the slightly awkward situation.

But at that question, Yoo Iseol turned her gaze to a distant place.

“…Plum blossoms.”

“Plum blossoms?”

Her clear gaze turned back to Baek Cheon.

“I simply want to bloom them.”

“⋯⋯.”

“Plum blossoms that can be shown.”

Baek Cheon closed his eyes slightly.

He didn’t understand the meaning at all. But the weight contained in those words was fully conveyed.

He opened his eyes and said in a firm voice.

“This fight will hasten that path.”

“Yes.”

“So fight without regrets.”

“Yes, Senior Brother!”

Yoo Iseol bowed her head towards Baek Cheon and immediately turned her body towards the sparring arena.

At that moment, Cheong Myeong came into her view. He was sitting in the front row as usual, with his arms crossed.

Normally, she wouldn’t have stopped.

But today, her feet stopped in front of Cheong Myeong.

Cheong Myeong slightly raised his head and looked at her.

“Why?”

Yoo Iseol didn’t say anything and just stared at him intently.

Strange.

She already knew that Cheong Myeong wasn’t the type to give encouragement. And she already knew what she had to do right now.

Even so, Yoo Iseol felt like she had to hear something from Cheong Myeong.

Cheong Myeong, as if knowing her feelings, quietly opened his mouth.

“The sword does not lie.”

“⋯⋯.”

“If the effort you’ve put in so far is real, the sword will answer.”

It was hard to see it as encouragement.

However, Yoo Iseol quietly nodded her head.

For some reason, the moment she heard those words, her heart calmed down.

“Sago!”

Tang Soso was looking at her with a worried face.

Yoo Iseol, seeing that worried gaze with a blank expression, unknowingly nodded her head.

“I’m watching.”

“⋯⋯Yes.”

That was enough.

Soon, with her sword at her waist, she slowly ascended the sparring arena, bearing the gazes of trust and worry from the Mount Hua disciples on her back.

Finally, Yoo Iseol, who had ascended the sparring arena, looked at the one person who was already up there.

Hae Yeon.

The one who inherited the essence of Shaolin.

It might be a fight where she doesn’t even stand a chance.

Her opponent was a genius who had been specially nurtured by the number one sect in the martial world, known as the Thousand-Year Shaolin.

And Yoo Iseol was just a misfit who was treated as an oddity even in Mount Hua, which had been expelled from the Nine Sects.

The two of them competing?

Ten out of ten. A hundred out of a hundred. They would all predict Hae Yeon’s victory.

But.

Screeeech.

Yoo Iseol slowly drew her sword.

Plum Blossom Sword.

Yes, Plum Blossom Sword.

The oldest memory she had was of a man holding this Plum Blossom Sword.

Compared to that⋯⋯.

Yoo Iseol looked at Hae Yeon with eyes as sharp as if they had been honed.

“I am Yoo Iseol of Mount Hua.”

“I am Hae Yeon of Shaolin.”

That was enough conversation.

Now, all that remained was to prove it.

“Hoo.”

Yoo Iseol, after a short exhale, took a long inhale. The beating of her heart slowed down, and the trembling of her muscles subsided.

At the same time.

Yoo Iseol, who had become the sword itself, rushed towards Hae Yeon like a swallow kicking off the water.