Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 116

“Oh, you’re here?”

“You’ve worked hard. Take a rest…”

Good words. Good words. Good words to calm the mood.

The third-generation disciples were desperate for Chung Myung to be happy, but he wasn’t the kind of person to change his mood based on what others said. Instead, he tilted his head to the side.

‘Why is he doing that again!’ they wondered.

‘Something good happened, so that should be enough! Why is he like this again!’

Chung Myung, with his head tilted, opened his mouth. His voice even sounded twisted as he spoke.

“You all seem to be in a verrrry good mood, aren’t you? My fellow disciples?”

“…”

“Wow, people are resting. Resting after a martial arts contest like that, like a fighting competition. If it were me, I’d be out there swinging my sword ten thousand times right away, or maybe just doing something silly and pointless, like dipping my nose in water.”

The third-generation disciples could handle anything, but they were helpless against their damned martial nephew’s behavior.

Everyone desperately gestured to Yoon Jong, signaling him to do something since he was the senior disciple.

‘Only at times like this am I the senior disciple. You rotten lot!’ he thought. ‘Show some respect usually! Usually!’

But what could he do? One way or another, he was the senior disciple.

“Haha,” Yoon Jong began with an awkward laugh.

“Why are you so angry? I think we did pretty well this time.”

He was trying to say, ‘We won all the matches, so why are you scolding us?’ But that damned guy seemed incapable of understanding indirect ways of speaking.

“Did well? My fellow disciples?” Chung Myung’s eyes rolled back.

The faces of the third-generation disciples darkened at the sight.

“You act like you’ve beaten some great guys, gathering together for a celebration! You should be training at this time, training! Does life end when you win a martial arts contest?”

That was it. That was it. Chung Myung, with displeasure clear on his face, continued.

“Back in my day! I went to war, got stabbed, and still got up the next day to train. These days, kids, ugh…”

‘When did you ever go to war?’ they wondered. ‘And aren’t we older than you?’

“Beating the third-generation disciples of Jongnam is quite an achievement. We can celebrate a little,” Yoon Jong offered a slight, if futile, resistance.

Of course, as always, resistance did not lead to good results. Especially not against Chung Myung.

“Win? Ah, yes. Good point.”

“…”

“They looked at least five years younger than you all! You’re so happy and jumping around because you beat kids like that?”

“…”

“They look like kids even now. How young were they two years ago? They must have been complete snot-nosed brats back then. Did you get beaten by them? By them?”

“…”

He was hitting a sore spot. The happy mood in the Baekmae Hall suddenly went cold, like a fire had been put out.

“I wouldn’t say anything if you had done well in the martial arts contest! One of you almost tripped while stepping.”

One of the disciples flinched and looked away.

“Another one aimed for the head but missed and hit the shoulder.”

Flinch.

“And another one lost his mind, charged in, got hit wrong, and almost lost!”

“…”

Chung Myung, who had been speaking as if he would burst into shouting at any moment, suddenly sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling.

“I taught you wrong, I did… It’s not my fellow disciples’ fault. It’s all my fault.”

“…”

Jo Gul exchanged glances with Yoon Jong.

‘Why is that bastard acting like that?’

‘How should I know?’

‘Try to smooth things over.’

‘Ha…’

Yoon Jong, looking like he was about to die, opened his mouth.

“O-of course, mistakes can happen. But didn’t things turn out well in the end? Mistakes are bound to happen in a real battle.”

“Mistakes?”

“…”

Yoon Jong strongly felt that he had said something wrong.

“Are you planning to fall in battle after being hit by a sword and think, ‘Hehehe. I made a mistake?’ and then die?”

“…No.”

“We train so that we don’t make mistakes in real battles! Mistakes are natural? That’s why this kind of situation happens! I’m just asking you to swing your sword properly! Can’t you do that?”

Yoon Jong gave up trying to stop him.

“And then what? Someday? Somedaaaaaay?” Chung Myung smiled faintly.

“Do you think that someday will come?”

“…”

“You should be training every day, forgetting to eat and sleep! You messed up the martial arts contest and now you’re playing around? Somedaaaaaay?”

Jo Gul smiled faintly.

‘Mother. I miss you,’ he thought. ‘I’ll apologize to my mother when I get home for telling her to stop nagging. That wasn’t nagging at all. Not at all.’

‘Does that bastard have a switch attached to his mouth?’

Every word he said was painful.

Chung Myung lowered his voice slightly.

“Don’t be overjoyed or disheartened.”

“…”

“This is just the first time. You’ll face countless more challenges and fight countless more battles. This might seem like a big deal to you all, but looking back, it’s nothing.”

The third-generation disciples nodded.

“Can I ask something?”

“As much as you want.”

“If we really work hard as you say, can we also use that kind of sword technique?”

Chung Myung’s face twisted.

“My fellow disciples. You seem to be misunderstanding something.”

“…Huh?”

“It’s not that you want to use it, but that you have to use it.”

“…”

Chung Myung rolled his eyes.

“How can disciples of Mount Hua not be able to create even a single flower with their swords? Do you think I’ll stand for that?”

Strange.

It was clearly the same words, but could it really be so different depending on who said them?

The third-generation disciples, who had been filled with the desire to show the sword technique that Chung Myung had demonstrated, instantly lost their motivation.

Their sparkling eyes turned into dull, lifeless ones.

“What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

Chung Myung gestured with his chin.

“Go. Are you trying to skip training today?”

“C-Chung Myung. It’s already…”

“You wanted to show it, that sword technique?”

No. Well, yes, but…

No, Chung Myung, we’re not in that much of a hurry. Later is fine.

“Aren’t you going to run out right now?”

“Hiiiik!”

The third-generation disciples rushed out of the Baekmae Hall, a large room with wooden pillars and mats on the floor. The space, which had been bustling, emptied in an instant.

Chung Myung watched them go, then chuckled to himself.

‘I mustn’t get carried away,’ he thought.

They had only taken their first step. This victory was good for instilling confidence in the third-generation disciples, but that confidence could easily turn into arrogance.

True progress could only be discussed when satisfaction with victory led to continuous training. He might have pushed them a bit too hard, but well…

“It’s not like I’m doing this for my own benefit!” Chung Myung shrugged and was about to follow them out when someone entered the Baekmae Hall.

“Oh?” Chung Myung tilted his head at the unexpected face.

“What brings you here?”

“…”

The eyes of the person who entered trembled slightly.

“If you see a martial uncle, you should at least greet them first… No, that wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

Baek Cheon stared straight at Chung Myung and opened his mouth. His face was serious, and his eyes held a strange intensity.

“Can you spare me some time?”

Baek Cheon reached the summit of Nagan Peak and subtly glanced at Chung Myung.

“Ugh, my legs are killing me,”

Chung Myung looked around, found a tree stump, and plopped down, looking every inch like an old man.

‘Such a young rascal,’ Baek Cheon thought.

The way he acts, you’d think he was a middle-aged geezer.

But this wasn’t the time to point that out.

“Thank you for making time for this.”

“It’s nothing. You’re still my martial uncle.”

Baek Cheon was relieved Chung Myung understood that much.

“But what’s this about? Summoning me to such a desolate place—is it an ambush or something?”

“⋯⋯.”

Baek Cheon hadn’t known Chung Myung for long. Yet, he often felt like cracking open his skull to see what was inside. What was Chung Myung thinking to say such things so casually?

“I watched your duel with Jin Geum-ryong.”

“You suffered watching that in your condition.”

“It was overwhelming.”

“You flatter me.”

Baek Cheon studied Chung Myung in silence for a long while before speaking again.

“Your martial uncles are all quite shaken. At first, they seemed merely pleased, but now they seem to have mixed feelings.”

Well, of course.

Anyone could see that Chung Myung’s fighting skills were clear to see. And it was also true that the third-generation disciples had become noticeably stronger.

They were supposed to lead the third-generation disciples as their martial uncles. But if they weren’t careful, the third-generation disciples might become stronger than them. How could they not be anxious?

No, perhaps the third-generation disciples were already stronger than them.

“So, what is it you want to say?”

“I want to become stronger.”

“⋯⋯Hoo.”

Baek Cheon looked at Chung Myung with resolute eyes.

“You may not realize it, but it’s not easy for me, as your martial uncle, to say such a thing to you.”

“I understand perfectly.”

Who else but Chung Myung, who had to bow and scrape to youngsters as their martial uncle and grand martial uncle, would understand Baek Cheon’s feelings?

‘Frustrating, isn’t it?’

For the first time, Chung Myung felt a slight sense of kinship with Baek Cheon.

“But after much thought, I believe this is the best course. It’s not that I don’t trust the grand martial uncles, but what I can learn from them is different from what I can learn from you.”

Chung Myung looked at Baek Cheon with a listless expression.

“So, you’re saying you’ll set aside your pride and everything else, and you want me to teach the second-generation disciples, including yourself?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Chung Myung chuckled.

“Why would I do that?”

“⋯⋯.”

The answer was so unexpected that Baek Cheon was left speechless, staring blankly at Chung Myung.

“It’s nothing but a bother, and I don’t really gain anything from it. I don’t see why I should go to all that trouble.”

“⋯⋯I am your martial uncle. Are we not fellow disciples?”

“So, have you been spending time watching over the training of the third-generation disciples?”

Baek Cheon closed his mouth. Once those words were spoken, there was nothing he could say. He certainly hadn’t paid much attention to the training of the third-generation disciples. He had thought that was Un-geom’s role.

“But aren’t you already overseeing the training of the third-generation disciples?”

“Why would that be?”

Chung Myung asked back, and Baek Cheon tried to say something but then closed his mouth.

Why? Why would that be⋯⋯.

The reason was quite simple. The third-generation disciples were practically Chung Myung’s underlings. It was annoying and irritating now, but if he trained them well, he could live without lifting a finger later on.

Baek Cheon sighed deeply.

“So, you’re telling me to bow my head.”

“Hey. You’re making me sound like someone who kills their parents with such a straight face. Would I ever say such a thing?”

It was an unspoken way of telling him to know his place.

Baek Cheon hated that he understood such words so perfectly.

“⋯⋯Still, there is the matter of the Mount Hua Sect’s rules.”

“Martial Uncle.”

“Hm?”

Chung Myung said nonchalantly.

“You’ve seen the third-generation disciples training, right?”

“⋯⋯I have.”

He tossed people around like they were weightless pinecones.

It was amazing they were still alive after that. Amazing, indeed.

“Do you think I could do that to my martial uncles?”

“⋯⋯.”

The accurate answer was,

‘You certainly seem like the type who would, but you’re probably holding back for appearances’ sake.’

But Baek Cheon knew how to phrase things diplomatically.

“It would be difficult. But you’re a reasonably respectful fellow.”

“That’s right, that’s right.”

Respectful, my foot.

Chung Myung shrugged.

“That’s why it won’t work. I can manage the senior disciples somehow, but I can’t do anything to the martial uncles. If I did, the grand martial uncles wouldn’t leave me alone, would they?”

Baek Cheon quietly stared at Chung Myung.

‘So, he’s saying he could do it.’

He only mentioned that there were various problems, but he didn’t say it was impossible.

“Then, if we resolve all those issues, you’re saying you can make us stronger?”

“Didn’t you see it with your own eyes?”

He had seen it.

That was why he had come here.

Baek Cheon sighed deeply.

Chung Myung had taught the third-generation disciples of Mount Hua and defeated the third-generation disciples of Jongnam, and he had defeated the second-generation disciple of Jongnam and Jin Geum-ryong with his own hands.

Those whom the second-generation disciples of Mount Hua couldn’t even touch.

Baek Cheon bit his lip.

“We will resolve that.”

“How?”

“While receiving instruction, we are not your martial uncles. The one receiving instruction can only be a disciple. We will respect you as our teacher.”

“Hoo.”

Chung Myung looked at Baek Cheon with interest and then shook his head.

“That won’t do.”

“⋯⋯Why?”

“What if you start cursing me after the training is over? I’ll have no recourse.”

“⋯⋯.”

Baek Cheon said with a blank expression.

“No, we are not so base as to⋯⋯.”

“You’ll change your tune after just one day of training. The senior disciples weren’t like that at first either.”

Baek Cheon stared at Chung Myung, speechless.

“Th-then what must we do?”

“If you’re going to do it, you have to do it properly.”

Chung Myung snapped his fingers.

“If you want to learn, you must completely obey, regardless of training time or anything else. Then I’ll try my best. But if you can’t do that, I can’t do anything for you. I have to survive too.”

“⋯⋯.”

Baek Cheon fell into deep thought.

But that thought didn’t last long.

‘Did I even have any pride left?’

Bowing his head to a junior disciple was a humiliating thing to do. But a martial artist being weak was an even greater humiliation. And⋯⋯.

‘I want to wield that sword someday too.’

The sword that had defeated Jin Geum-ryong. The sword of Mount Hua did not disappear from his mind.

“Alright.”

Jin Geum-ryong answered resolutely.

“From this moment on, you are not the junior martial uncle of the second-generation disciples. The title may be junior martial uncle, but none of the second-generation disciples will attempt to suppress you with their position. I guarantee it in my name.”

‘I’ve caught him.’

A satisfied smile spread across Chung Myung’s face.

He had been wondering how to reel these guys in, but here they were, jumping into the net of their own accord. How could he not be pleased?

“Really?”

“That’s right!”

“Are you sure?”

“I said that’s right!”

“Okay. Great. Then everyone gather and come to me tomorrow morning.”

“⋯⋯.”

“Why?”

“Ah, no. Nothing.”

Belatedly, Baek Cheon realized he might have made a grave mistake.