Return of the Mount Hua Sect

Paaat!

Chung Myung harnessed the sword’s momentum to propel himself backward.

He crouched slightly, straightened his back, and gazed at Heo Gong.

Blood trickled from the sword’s tip.

The price Heo Gong paid, absorbing the plum blossom sword qi with his entire body, was substantial. It appeared as though his body was entirely covered in various wounds.

“Eukk….”

He staggered once, barely steadying himself by planting his feet firmly on the ground.

“That’s it.”

Chung Myung muttered softly, nodding.

Losing to an Elder of Wudang?

He hadn’t even considered such a possibility.

‘How long has it been?’

How many years had passed since his rebirth? How much had he witnessed in this world?

Though he felt remorse, he couldn’t afford to linger in this place any longer. He no longer needed to catch up with his former self.

‘Heavenly Demon.’

To confront that monster, he must effortlessly surpass his former self.

He imposed grueling training on Mount Hua’s disciples. Yet, the most demanding task he imposed was on himself.

Training that pushed his body and mind beyond their limits, repeating endlessly. Since learning of the Heavenly Demon’s existence, he had subjected himself to rigorous training far beyond anything he had experienced before.

To reclaim his former self.

Ultimately, to transcend his former self.

Because Chung Myung was the sole individual capable of comprehending the Heavenly Demon’s existence in the world.

How could they possibly understand?

Could they grasp the fear of being the only one capable of confronting the resurfacing Heavenly Demon?

No, he had no desire to comprehend that burden again.

It was a weight solely bestowed upon Chung Myung.

Chung Myung wasn’t someone who held high expectations of others to the point of expecting too much from them.

But at least…

“Come out of that safe house.”

“…”

“If you don’t, the reality you’ll face will be twice as terrible.”

The sky seemed to be breathing heavily.

Heo Gong couldn’t fathom why this boy kept saying incomprehensible things. There was only one thing he grasped now.

‘Strong.’

Heo Gong’s sword couldn’t reach Chung Myung.

It was glaringly obvious; he couldn’t deny it. Despair was evident on his face as if he couldn’t comprehend it.

‘Am I losing?’

An Elder of Wudang against a third-class disciple of Mount Hua?

“It can’t be.”

His heart raced, and more blood trickled from the wound. Yet, he took another step towards Chung Myung, unfazed.

“I am Heo Gong of Wudang!”

“No need to repeat it, I know.”

“I won’t lose! Never!”

Kwaak!

Heo Gong’s sword traced a large circle.

Chung Myung recognized the significance of this circle.

‘Wisdom Sword.’

The pinnacle of Wudang sword technique. An unbeatable sword said to embody the principles of the world and universe. A martial art that Wudang proudly displayed to the world.

Even if it was the same sword technique, its mastery varies by practitioner.

The Taiji Wisdom Sword Mu Gak wielded a moment ago, and the Taiji Wisdom Sword drawn in the air now were of such different quality that they couldn’t be considered the same technique. Just by drawing the light circle, the air around the stage changed drastically.

Woong!

The shattered stone fragments levitated, unable to withstand the immense fluctuation in internal energy, rising into the air at once.

The scene created by the sword that embodied the laws of nature was truly awe-inspiring.

That was natural and at the same time contrary to it. It was the Taiji, known to hold Yin and Yang simultaneously.

Sword qi burned like flame in black, and there was a white sword qi flowing like water rushing in at the same time.

It embodied two qualities in one sword.

It was impossible to attempt without being accustomed to Yin and Yang. Therefore, it was the best sword technique of Wudang, and competed for the title of the best sword technique in the world.

The black and white sword qi intertwined and rotated as if they were about to bite each other’s tail. The brightness of the sword naturally began to form the shape of Yin and Yang.

Wooong!

The resulting movement was like a wormhole sucking in the presence of qi around it and releasing it simultaneously.

“S-stand back!”

“Step back! Hurry up now!”

Baek Cheon felt fear and shouted. This sword technique was so dangerous that even he, who didn’t want to take his eyes off this battle for a second, had to warn others and move back.

He drew his sword and began to release the qi pressure being exerted around him.

‘Damn it.’

Just hearing about the power of a famous sect was enough to make him sick. If he thought it was the end, there was more, and if one thought they had gone beyond the end, there was a new beginning.

‘They have come this far, and they still have so much potential?’

It was truly shocking.

But Baek Cheon knew. What was truly amazing wasn’t Heo Gong, who held so much strength even at the end, but Chung Myung, who was making an elder of Wudang display his full strength.

Chung Myung’s hair rose in the air. His clothes fluttered wildly, and the world around him rose into the sky as if gravity had been reversed. Yet, Chung Myung stood firmly on the ground, unmoved, just gazing at the rushing sword qi.

Baek Cheon’s hand holding the sword clenched.

He could feel so much pressure here, then what was the pressure that Chung Myung was feeling, facing it head-on?

But.

‘You cannot lose.’

That monster couldn’t lose at this level.

As if responding to the expectations of Baek Chheon, Chung Myung raised his sword.

Black and white sword qi swirled around and flashed, with tremendous qi within it, pressing down on Chung Myung as if it would tear him apart. Chung Myung slightly frowned.

‘Such a fool….’

This wasn’t the Wisdom Sword.

A sword that lost its reasoning in anger, spreading out in chaos, no matter how strong the qi it held, was not as good as the Three Emperor Sword technique executed correctly.

One should never forget to remain level-headed until the end. The moment one forgets that small fact, victory becomes distant.

Chung Myung’s sword moved with resolute will. Sharp, red sword qi erupted.

It wasn’t too different from the sword techniques shown until then. Compared to the emptiness of this sword, Chung Myung’s repetition of his previous actions seemed better.

He was sick of this.

‘There is always one problem after another. Maybe bigger?’

And it didn’t feel nice anymore.

If one truly wanted to block their opponent, one shouldn’t just build another wall, but construct a barrier that could never be overcome.

A black flower and mountain, forest, and castle wall,

25 Movement Plum Blossom Sword Technique.

A sight quite similar to the plum blossoms that had been in full bloom on the cliff, falling down to fill the river.

The flowers soon began to flow, but not so quickly.

It was different from Heo Gong’s sword, which was losing its patience and moving too aggressively. Chung Myung’s sword actually held the arrogance that the disciples of Wudang had first displayed.

Kwaaang!

Two dragons, black and white, ran wild in a river filled with flower petals. It was a storm of qi so intense that it seemed as if it would explode the river of flowers.

But.

No matter how strong it was, it could not push back a rushing river. Even if pushed, hit, and splashed, the water was a force that would eventually fill the gaps again.

Kwaaang!

Plum blossom leaves drifted under the violent qi. It moved gently, rolling around without resistance.

‘T-this…’

Heo Gong’s eyes widened in shock.

‘How can this be….’

It was a beautiful sight.

The flower petals spinning in the flowing river rushed towards him, lightly brushing against the two dragons. And witnessing this scene, he heard something he remembered from the past.

‘M-master…’

It was not Venerable Heo Do. These were the words left behind by his now-deceased master.

Why did these forgotten words come to his mind now?

His sword qi, filled with enormous internal qi, followed the path led by plum blossoms.

‘Master… I….’

And the plum blossom river that swept past the sword qi in the air finally gently embraced his whole body.

Wheeik!

The beginning was the river, and the end was the wind.

The petals that gently encircled his body lifted Heo Gong into the air, leaving him dumbfounded.

The plum blossoms that rose up scattered in all directions and soon blurred.

It was as if nothing had happened from the start.

“…”

Heo Gong bowed his head further. Everything had already vanished.

There was no Taiji he had created nor the red plum blossoms of Chung Myung.

All he could see was Chung Myung’s form staring at him with his sword pointed down.

“…”

Heo Gong closed his mouth and gazed at Chung Myung.

After silently observing Chung Myung for a while, he asked in a clear voice.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

His voice was clear and calm.

“Why did I lose?”

Chung Myung looked at him quietly and replied.

“Because you forgot.”

“…”

“Be it a sword or person….”

After a brief pause, Chung Myung spoke slowly once more.

“There are things one can never forget. The moment you forget how you first held the sword, you have lost.”

“…”

His gaze turned to the Mount Hua disciples, specifically Un Geom, who was still unconscious.

“The sword you held didn’t even convey anything to your disciples. But my master, who transcended the teachings of the sect, delivered the right teachings to them.”

“…”

“It wasn’t me who won here.”

Chung Myung declared briefly.

“If you feel nothing when you see that sword, you are already dead as a swordsman.”

His gaze turned to Un Geom.

“The sword… I guess one couldn’t hold sharpness in it.”

“I understand.”

Heo Gong nodded slightly as if he understood.

Srrng.

And then he slowly inserted his sword back into the sheath.

His two hands were brought together and held out in front, both trembling.

“I… I learned well.”

Tak!

Similarly, Chung Myung, who pushed the sword back into his sheath, readily bowed.

“I learned well.”

The two bowed their heads for a moment to embrace this, and eventually, as Chung Myung raised his head back up, Heo Gong’s body collapsed like an old tree rotten from the inside.

Thud.

The sound of an exhausted body falling was clear in the air.

“…”

The world was enveloped in silence.

A third-class disciple of Mount Hua defeated an elder of Wudang.

Faced with this absurd result, not just the Wudang and the spectators but even the Mount Hua disciples were speechless.

In that uncomfortable silence, Chung Myung turned to Heo Sanja.

“This spar…”

“…”

“Is a win for Mount Hua.”

And he smiled brightly.

“I learned well, thanks to you.”

Heo Sanja’s teeth, which had been clenched tightly, finally broke.