Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 328

Beopjeong felt as though his very soul was escaping him. ‘This can’t be happening.’

He thought it was perfect. Shaolin’s plan and Hye-yeon’s training seemed to be going exactly as planned.

Hye-yeon’s Tathagata Palm was powerful. It wasn’t fully mastered, but even a Tathagata Palm that had only just begun to bloom had undeniable power. (Tathagata Palm is a powerful Shaolin technique.)

And yet, Cheong-myeong had endured it. How?

Hye-yeon had all the purified energy of Shaolin within him, carefully recovered after the war with the Demonic Sect. Shaolin had put so much effort into that child.

To restore their pride after the war with the Demonic Sect and to stand strong as the guiding star of the Jianghu (martial world), Shaolin had staked everything on Hye-yeon. But now, that child was being pushed back by a Mount Hua disciple. How could this be happening?

Shaolin was the greatest sect under Heaven.

Shaolin had been the greatest sect for hundreds of years because its martial arts were far superior to any other sect. Yet, Hye-yeon, who had mastered Shaolin’s martial arts, was being pushed back by a disciple from another sect. It couldn’t be! It was impossible!

Cheong-myeong was just a third-generation disciple from the fallen Mount Hua Sect. This shouldn’t be happening.

This place was meant to show everyone that Shaolin was still the guiding star.

“Hye-yeooooooon!” Beopjeong shouted, jumping up from his seat.

Then, he saw it.

Cheong-myeong’s sword moved. It wasn’t just a swing; it was a dance of light. The blade traced a curve in the air, so smooth and perfect it seemed to glow. Beopjeong had never seen anything so beautiful, so deadly.

Beopjeong, the Abbot of Shaolin, had a heavy responsibility. He almost felt lost under the pressure. But deep down, he was still a man who loved martial arts. He couldn’t help but be captivated by that enchanting line.

‘That is….’

He stared, mesmerized by Cheong-myeong’s sword, his mind losing focus on everything else.

The hand holding the sword was completely natural.

A sword wielded for a lifetime.

Wielding it again and again, one would eventually forget they were even holding a sword. It becomes as natural as an arm, as natural as legs. The sword became as if it had always been there.

Over time, the strange feeling of having a new body slowly disappeared.

Cheong-myeong’s eyes lowered.

Shaolin had shown him everything.

They had proven what they had built up and created over the past hundred years through Hye-yeon. But it was all in vain.

‘Just for that?’

Had they abandoned the sword of Mount Hua just to create something like that?

Then he would have to show them what they had let go of, what they had abandoned.

Cheong-myeong’s sword drew a gentle arc from below.

The origin is a circle.

It was hard to describe with the word ‘perfection.’

Cheong-myeong’s sword, drawing a semicircle, stopped pointing towards the sky, and then slowly fell downwards.

Cheong-myeong’s sword moved in a circle, like the beginning of everything (Wuji). Then, the circle split, like the world dividing into day and night (Taiji).

Soon, his sword tip stopped, pointing directly at the center.

Yang becomes the sky, and Yin becomes the earth. Standing alone beneath that sky and earth was simply humanity.

No matter how beautiful the sky and how solid the earth, if there was no human at the center, it would all be useless.

With humans added to the sky and earth, the three powers of heaven, earth, and humanity form the Samjae.

Heaven and earth, and humanity.

Swordsmanship is just a way of killing people.

But if one can fill that art of killing with the Dao (path), then the swordplay is more than just a sword.

It is here.

What Mount Hua has been pursuing for so long.

Starting in someone’s hands, passed down and passed down. Added to and added to, the sword dao of Mount Hua has evolved over countless days. Now, it was being recreated in Cheong-myeong’s hands, going beyond a hundred years.

The beginning is the Six Harmonies.

Heaven, earth, and the four directions.

To contain heaven, earth, and the four directions within the sword is the same as containing all things in the world.

If one can contain the world within the sword, could it not be said to be a universe in itself?

Therefore, the one who wields the sword becomes a microcosm.

That is humanity, and that is the sword.

Cheong-myeong’s sword slowly rises upwards before gently falling downwards.

A meaningless movement.

He had just drawn his sword once in the air.

But Hye-yeon felt as though he was being pulled into that sword.

And then…

Scritch.

His dazed eyes slowly looked down.

His severed sleeve was falling to the floor like a butterfly.

‘When?’

There was no sword energy.

He hadn’t even felt the sensation of being cut.

But the moment that sword was swung, he had already been cut.

His face became blank.

‘A Mind Sword?’

No, it wasn’t that.

It was simply perfection.

A sword honed to the extreme, reaching perfection, does not allow for any waste. Neither sky-splitting sword energy nor sea-parting dominance is needed.

It simply cuts.

It achieves the desired result with the minimum amount of force.

That is the ultimate meaning of the sword.

Hye-yeon’s heart began to beat slowly.

Just how much… how much must one hone the sword to reach such a realm?

His body trembled.

At this moment, Hye-yeon could feel it.

What is the martial dao (martial path)?

Is the martial dao simply suppressing the opponent with greater force? Is it pursuing greater destructive power and faster speed?

That is not it.

The martial dao is using martial arts to bring the body closer to the ideal. It is realizing what is drawn in the mind through that body into the world.

In other words, it was the realm that Hye-yeon had hoped to reach someday: to break free from the power of internal energy, to break free from the form of stances, and ultimately to reach the martial arts itself.

That realm was now before him.

The martial dao that he had doubted whether he could reach even with decades more of harsh training was now unfolding before him.

The moment he physically felt the distance that seemed so far away, something within Hye-yeon’s heart began to collapse.

‘I am….’

Hye-yeon, biting his lip tightly, let out a scream close to desperation and lunged forward like a seizure.

“I am Hye-yeon of Shaolin!”

If he continued like this, he would be defeated without even being able to try anything.

His anxious mind made him seek out the stance he was most confident in.

Wham!

His Jingaek shattered the sparring stage.

Woooooong.

The Hundred Step Divine Fist, which he had already shown once, unfolded.

A massive fist aura flew towards Cheong-myeong.

Cheong-myeong, with his eyes half-open, watched the golden fist aura flying towards him.

His sword was slightly raised upwards before being slowly drawn downwards again.

The sound of metal slicing through the air – *Chwaaaak*. His sword cut through the air. For him, it was natural, like breathing.

A sword made to cut and pierce.

Hone it, sharpen it, and in the end, there is nothing it cannot cut.

This sword was made to cut. It could cut anything – air, trees, even a person’s inner energy, their feelings, and the rules of the world.

It cuts.

A bright gold light, like a flood of water rushing down a mountain, slammed towards Chung Myung. But Chung Myung’s sword flashed. It cut through the golden light as easily as slicing through silk. The light split apart, flying to the sides, losing its power.

*KABOOM!*

The golden light, now out of control, shot past the fighting ring and the watching crowd. It smashed into a building nearby, destroying it completely in one hit. Dust and pieces of wood flew everywhere.

An astonishing amount of inner strength.

But no matter how strong the power, it is meaningless if it cannot reach its target. None of the golden light touched Chung Myung.

“Aaaaah!”

Hae Yeon tirelessly spewed forth golden Buddhist light from his fist.

Hae Yeon used a special move called Arahan Shin Kwon. It was a powerful Shaolin technique, one of the seventy-two famous fighting styles. People said it was the fist of a holy warrior, strong enough to destroy demons. This was Hae Yeon’s best move.

The pressure was so strong it felt like metal would bend and stone would break. Chung Myung’s clothes started to tear at the edges. His hair flew up in the air. But Chung Myung didn’t even move. He was calm in the middle of all that power.

His eyes remained deeply sunken, and even amidst the pouring pressure, the tip of his sword did not waver.

It seemed as though nothing could disturb Chung Myung’s stance.

‘What lies within it?’

Chung Myung wondered, ‘What are Shaolin’s teachings really about? Are they about helping people, or just about power?’

Futile.

The moment they pursued their own gain and failed to follow the Dharma, Shaolin no longer deserves to be called Shaolin. All that remains there are those blinded by their own ego.

Everything changes. Even the most beautiful flower will die. But flowers always bloom again. Life goes on. Even old, forgotten trees will bloom again after winter.

“Bloom.”

Finally, Chung Myung’s sword moved, drawing the shape of a Hwasan plum blossom in the air.

Even in the chilling snow, even in the gentle spring sunshine, even in the aura of a Buddhist who has lost himself.

Flowers will eventually bloom.

Is there any place in the world where flowers do not bloom?

‘This is not the end.’

Sect Leader, Senior Brother, Hwasan will be strong again, in the world you wanted to protect.

Even if no one recognizes it.

Just as the roots spread beneath the ground, unseen by anyone, but ultimately nurture the tree and bring forth flowers.

It will not be in vain.

So, behold.

A small flower is drawn in the air.

The small flower bud looked lonely and sorrowful.

‘It is not I.’

But from the tip of his sword, new flowers began to bloom.

A plum blossom blooming alone is merely lonely.

But if countless flowers bloom beside it, the plum blossom will dye the entire mountain red and dye the world red.

Chung Myung’s gaze turned quietly to the side.

His brothers, uncles, and even the older masters were watching.

They were all watching, their fists tight, biting their lips.

They were supporting him, even without saying a word.

‘Bloom.’

Each and every one of them is a Hwasan plum blossom. They are still only buds, but someday they will dye Hwasan red and dye the world red.

A small smile formed on Chung Myung’s lips.

Will Sect Leader, Senior Brother, be pleased?

With his plum blossoms?

‘No.’

That could not be.

Chung Myung felt his plum blossoms were like ghosts. They were from the past, things that should have died already.

So, he could not be pleased.

However.

He would have clenched his fists at the plum blossoms that Jo Gul brought forth.

He would have applauded the plum blossoms that Yoo Iseol brought forth.

He might have shed tears at the plum blossoms that Baek Cheon brought forth.

New plum blossoms bloom in Hwasan, which was weak and struggling. Nourished by the petals of the flowers that withered first, the plum blossoms bloom again.

So, how can it be said to be in vain just because the petals have fallen?

‘Senior Brother.’

Plum blossoms burst forth from the tip of Chung Myung’s sword.

Small and large, from plum blossoms that are not yet fully ripe and shyly curled up, to plum blossoms that have fully bloomed and are in full bloom.

None are the same.

Just as different people gather to form a sect, plum blossoms, none of which are the same, gather to form a plum blossom forest.

Soon, in the gentle warm breeze, colorful petals began to flutter like an illusion.

Hae Yeon’s eyes widened.

It was as if the world was filled with red petals.

But no matter how wide he opened his eyes and steeled his heart, he could not escape the illusion of those petals.

“Heretical!”

Hae Yeon shouted and loudly chanted the Buddha’s name, making a half-palm gesture. At the same time, a majestic golden aura poured out from his body.

Buddha’s Light Illuminates All.

The Dharma pushes away all that is wicked in the world. One who has truly awakened to the Dharma does not lose himself in any illusion.

But…

‘Why?’

Hae Yeon’s eyes trembled.

They do not disappear.

The petals that touched the golden aura did not disappear, but rather gently surged in, as if embracing the Buddhist light.

“Why…?”

Hae Yeon’s gaze blankly followed Chung Myung.

In the midst of the plum blossom petals that covered the world, Chung Myung’s sword gracefully embroidered the sky. His figure, dancing a drunken sword dance, was like a painting.

‘What is illusion and what is reality?’

It is simply so.

Yes.

It is simply so (Nature).

The petals brushed past Hae Yeon like an illusion.

The scent of plum blossoms, which could not possibly be, permeated the tip of his nose, and the plum blossom petals, which could not possibly exist, dyed the world red.

And then.

When the spectacle, whether illusion or not, had all disappeared.

A long sword, delicately engraved with plum blossoms, was pointed at the neck of Hae Yeon, the best fighter from Shaolin.