Chapter 157

Since ancient times, it had been said that the masters of famous mountains were spirit creatures. Huashan, one of the Five Great Mountains of the Central Plains, was no exception.

Before humans ever set foot there, tigers had ruled its lofty, sprawling forests.

These spirit creatures possessed the majesty of kings and the ferocity of beasts. When their territory was invaded, they grew furious and soon began attacking the uninvited trespassers.

“Wow! And then?”

“When the loss of human life became severe, the Huashan Sect had no choice but to step in. That was how the Crouching Tiger Fist was born.”

A fist technique that subdues tigers. The Crouching Tiger Fist.

Cheongpung clearly remembered what his grandfather had told him when he learned the Crouching Tiger Fist long ago.

“Pung, the Crouching Tiger Fist is a powerful martial art capable of subduing the king of the mountains. Master this one technique, and no one your age will be able to stand against you. Do you understand?”

“Yes!”

As a child, Cheongpung had believed his grandfather’s words without question.

But now, ten years later—

Whack!

“Ow, that hurt.”

“…Huh?”

For the first time, he realized that even his grandfather could be wrong.

It was the third day since I’d begun sparring with Cheongpung. During our forty-fifth duel, I witnessed him stumble over his words for the first time.

“B-Benefactor, are you all right?”

“I know. That was the Crouching Tiger Fist, right?”

I’d seen it with my own eyes and even experienced it firsthand by getting hit.

It was yesterday that a Crouching Tiger Fist to the solar plexus had laid me out flat.

I’d committed the way Cheongpung moved when he used the Crouching Tiger Fist to memory—the footwork, the position of his shoulders, even the sequence of forms that followed.

And yet I had still allowed myself to be hit.

There was no doubt about it. Cheongpung was one step ahead of me.

“What was the name of that form just now?”

Cheongpung answered with a dazed expression.

“One Fist Subdues the Tiger.”

A single fist that brought down a tiger? It certainly packed enough destructive power to justify the name. If my ability to take a hit hadn’t improved with every duel, I would have dropped to my knees just like yesterday.

Should I take comfort in doing much better than yesterday?

And it wasn’t only my ability to take a hit that had improved. After experiencing Cheongpung’s martial arts firsthand, I was gradually getting used to them.

“All right, let’s go again.”

But Cheongpung didn’t seem interested in continuing.

“How did you dodge it?”

“Huh?”

“I was aiming precisely around your Fengwei acupoint…”

The Fengwei acupoint was around the ribs. I’d twisted aside to dodge, only to take the blow square in the middle of my abdomen.

Since I’d avoided his intended target, maybe that technically counted as dodging? I shrugged.

“I just struggled to avoid getting hit even once. I got hit in the end, though.”

“Could you see the sequence of forms?”

After being beaten up for several days, I could make out the forms vaguely. Where and how an attack would come from. How the next form would follow.

The problem is that I’m still clumsy.

I rubbed my aching abdomen as I answered.

“After taking this many hits, I should be able to read at least that much. Every time you hit me, I made sure to keep my eyes wide open and watch.”

Wasn’t keeping your eyes open even while getting hit and figuring out your opponent’s sequence of forms the most basic thing?

“Huh. That’s strange. I’ve only used the Crouching Tiger Fist a few times.”

“That’s why it took me a little longer to figure out than the others.”

“The others?”

“Yeah. The Plum Blossom Fist was pretty easy. Maybe it’s because you used it the most during our duels, but I more or less figured it out.”

Cheongpung clapped in admiration.

“Wow! Can you show me?”

“It’s nothing difficult.”

I performed a poor imitation of the Plum Blossom Fist. My footwork and movements were both terribly awkward, but every form came from the Plum Blossom Fist Cheongpung had used in our duels.

This much is easy.

At some point after I began learning martial arts, I’d realized something.

Executing a technique required an understanding of the martial art and the internal-energy control to match. But merely copying its shape was easy.

I moved like this here, didn’t I? Probably?

From the first form to the seventh. I occasionally stumbled, but I managed to perform them as naturally as possible without much difficulty. Then I turned my head.

“That’s about it for now… Young Hero Cheongpung?”

“Ah, yes, Benefactor.”

“Is something wrong? Why do you look like that?”

“No, it’s just…”

Cheongpung stared at me with an oddly complicated expression before hesitantly opening his mouth.

“I suddenly remembered something my grandfather once said.”

“The Sword Saint old man—I mean, your grandfather?”

“Yes. He used to call me a thief.”

“It’s all right. When I was young, I secretly took a thousand won from my mother’s wallet and got beaten half to death.”

“That’s not what I mean…”

Cheongpung let out a deep sigh.

“He always said it while teaching me martial arts. He called me a thief who stole martial arts.”

“Oh.”

That was a compliment, right? To think a talent freak like Cheongpung was praising me.

As I stood there dumbfounded, Cheongpung said, “Benefactor, you’re definitely a martial-arts genius.”

“A genius? Me?”

“Yes.”

A genius, my ass…

No, wait. He was right.

When I thought about it, I had mastered the Jin Family’s Manoeuvre Technique and spear technique—both First Rate martial arts—in barely two or three months.

Of course, that was all thanks to the System.

“It’s just a shortcut. I’m pretty good at using my body. My eyes are good, too. Heh heh.”

“My grandfather used to say that martial arts are seventy percent eyes and thirty percent feet.”

“I think he was right about that, but either way, I’m not a genius.”

“Think about it carefully. I’m sure something similar happened before.”

Was that so?

I suddenly remembered my childhood. I’d always been good at sports thanks to my natural athletic ability, but as for anything that could be called martial arts…

Oh. There was one.

When my expression changed, Cheongpung nodded as if to say, See?

“Something did happen, didn’t it?”

“There was one. Taekwondo.”

“Taekwondo?”

“It’s something like a martial art.”

Back in elementary school, I’d been lured into enrolling at a taekwondo academy with the promise of a portable game console.

The older high school students had put on a taekwondo demonstration, and after watching it exactly twice, I could follow all eight Taegeuk forms.¹

Of course, less than a week later, I beat up a middle schooler two years older than me and got kicked out.

Could that have been it?

Come to think of it, even when I was an F-rank Hunter, I’d been pretty good at copying almost anything.

My lousy physical abilities had simply held me back.

If a bottom-tier Hunter like me tried to imitate the movements of a mid-rank Hunter, I wouldn’t be able to generate any destructive power. I’d just tear my groin apart.

But things are different now.

Overflowing internal energy. Excellent physical abilities. And martial arts learned in Murim.

Now that I thought about it, I might not be a martial-arts genius, but I did seem to have a fair amount of talent.

“How long did it take you to learn the Plum Blossom Fist, Young Hero Cheongpung?”

“One month.”

“One month?”

From my own experience, the Plum Blossom Fist was a Huashan martial art, but it wasn’t complicated enough to take that long.

And this guy had needed a month to learn it, while I’d managed a rough imitation in three days?

That’s insane.

As I grinned so broadly that the corners of my mouth nearly split, Cheongpung added, “It took me a whole month to achieve Great Attainment, so my grandfather scolded me terribly.”

“…”

Right. Of course.

As I stared at him in disbelief, Cheongpung muttered, “Still… it doesn’t feel very good. Having someone copy my martial arts.”

An ominous aura rose from him.

After regaining consciousness, Hyuk Mujin stared blankly at the training ground.

This is incredible.

The training ground had already been half reduced to rubble.

More than half of the bluestone carefully laid by stonemasons famous throughout Shanxi Province had been smashed apart, and the destruction was continuing at a rapid pace.

Clang! Ka-ka-ka-clang!

Despite the season, the center of the training ground was scorching hot. Spear and sword clashed amid bursts of flame.

The men wielding them moved at dazzling speed, exchanging blows so quickly that even Hyuk Mujin, a First Rate master, struggled to follow.

How can they be that fast?

Cheongpung wore white martial robes, while Jin Taekyung wore black. The stark contrast between them was obvious at a glance, yet it was astonishing that they were around the same age.

That Cheongpung fellow is a monster.

He had an average build and a gentle appearance. Spend half a day on the streets of Taiyuan, and one could probably find three or four young men his age who looked much like him.

But that ordinary-looking young man concealed an identity no one could easily have guessed.

The heir to everything Sword Saint Mae Jonghak possessed.

Whoosh! Swish!

Beneath the high sun, Jin Taekyung’s spearhead flashed.

The forms were heavy and concise, but once power and speed were added, they transformed into an extremely fast spear technique that made Hyuk Mujin dizzy just watching it.

What if that spear were aimed at me?

Hyuk Mujin shook his head from side to side.

It was embarrassing, but he wasn’t confident he could last even a quarter of an hour. No, perhaps even that thought was merely a consolation meant to preserve his pride.

But Cheongpung was different.

Swish, swish-swish-swish!

The spearhead surged in from every direction, only to slice uselessly through empty air. Cheongpung’s face remained calm as he effortlessly dodged every attack.

Then his hand blurred, and a streak of light split the air.

Whoosh! Boom!

“Hng!”

Jin Taekyung let out a groan amid the thunderous impact. He had barely blocked the sword, but sword strikes poured toward him like a torrential downpour.

Watching the scene, Hyuk Mujin opened his mouth without realizing it.

At that moment, a single thought filled his mind.

Graceful.

That was the only way to describe it.

Cheongpung’s movements were delicate and fluid, like the brushstrokes of a master painter. They resembled flower petals drifting and fluttering down at the end of the season.

Hyuk Mujin watched in a daze before suddenly muttering, “Plum Blossom Sword Technique…”

He had never seen Huashan’s martial arts before.

But he could be certain of one thing. The very essence of Huashan martial arts had seeped into every one of Cheongpung’s movements.

He’s a monster. A monster in every sense of the word.

But “monster” was not a word that applied only to Cheongpung.

Swish-swish-swish-swish!

Ka-ga-gang!

Another man was blocking every strike of the Plum Blossom Sword Technique unleashed by the Sword Saint’s disciple.

The young man with a powerful build and striking, ruggedly handsome features ground his teeth.

“Fuck, Huashan really made its martial arts a goddamn nightmare!”

If Huashan had heard the thick profanity Jin Taekyung spat out, the entire sect would have turned upside down.

A rough aura poured from his body.

Its domineering force momentarily suppressed Cheongpung’s fluid grace before flowing straight into a counterattack.

Whoooosh! Boom!

A ferocious strike.

Cheongpung went flying after blocking the spear amid the thunderous impact. Jin Taekyung had knocked aside Cheongpung’s offensive with a single move, but he immediately frowned.

“Ow, that stings.”

Slice.

Before his words had even ended, the black martial robes he wore split open in a long tear.

Several long wounds scored his exposed chest, blood welling freely from them.

“What martial art was that?”

“The Heavenly Eagle Claw.”

“You really do have everything.”

“Would you like me to teach you?”

“You’re allowed to?”

“Oh, I just remembered. My grandfather told me not to teach it to outsiders.”

“Again? I knew it.”

“Would you like to join Huashan?”

“No!”

Jin Taekyung shouted and kicked off the ground, charging forward.

His movements were instinctive, like those of a wild beast, yet they barely retained the form of martial arts. Hyuk Mujin shuddered.

Why does that man get scarier the longer I watch him?

Everyone had their own distinctive aura.

Jin Taekyung’s was tenacious and fierce. There was something about it that struck fear into anyone watching him.

It isn’t about his martial arts.

Jin Taekyung was certainly a highly skilled master, but he was not yet the equal of Cheongpung, the Sword Saint’s disciple and a true Peak master.

Yet Hyuk Mujin had watched him from close by for the past several months, and he could say this with certainty.

Even if the sky fell, that man would survive.

No matter what kind of hell Jin Taekyung was thrown into, Hyuk Mujin felt certain he would return alive.

Three Peak masters had tried to kill him so far, but in the end, they had been the ones to fall. In Murim, the one who survived was the strong one.

And Jin Taekyung had survived to the bitter end.

Besides…

Captain’s rate of growth is beyond imagination.

It was something Hyuk Mujin knew because he had watched him from closer than anyone else.

From the moment Jin Taekyung defeated Jopil, One Question, One Kill, after a desperate battle to this very moment as he fought Cheongpung—

Jin Taekyung was growing stronger every day.

And that’s still true right now.

Just a few days ago, he hadn’t been able to last even a hundred moves against the supreme techniques of Huashan that Cheongpung unleashed.

But now?

Hyuk Mujin had personally watched them exchange well over three hundred moves. Even after being struck by the Heavenly Eagle Claw, a martial art taught only to disciples of Huashan’s main sect, Jin Taekyung’s sole reaction had been, “Ow, that stings.”

He’s a monster. A monster.

Everyone around them was around the same age, and they were all Peak or advanced First Rate. Wasn’t that taking things too far? It seemed as though nothing but monsters surrounded him.

Hyuk Mujin let out a deep sigh and recalled what Jin Taekyung had told him a few days earlier during their Wall Lizard Technique training.

If you don’t want to lose something precious, then risk your life and do it now. Working yourself to death while you’re still breathing is better than dying, isn’t it?

Those words were true.

You had to work yourself to death to survive and become strong. Every second counted if you wanted to avoid being swept away by the waves of Murim.

After silently watching the two men spar for a while, Hyuk Mujin rose to his feet.

I can’t finish this with just my little toe.

He had to become stronger. Strong enough to be recognized as Jin Taekyung’s right arm—or perhaps his heart.

And…

Strong enough for everyone to remember the name Hyuk Mujin.

He gripped his sword case tightly.