CLS-Chapter 211

Chapter 211

Song Hyeon was unlucky, if you could call it unlucky. What else would you call the misfortune of meeting Wei Yan-ho there of all places?

As one of the late-stage disciples who was being upheld by the Nine Orthodox Sects, Song Hyeon must have been overflowing with confidence.

Huh?

You’re saying he was arrogant?

You say that because you haven’t seen the late-stage disciples of the Nine Orthodox Sects back then. The current late-stage disciples and descendants of the orthodox sects are already a generation that has seen countless shameful sights, so they’re a generation that grew up constantly hearing from their elders that they must be humble.

Huh? You think just saying it makes it so?

You beat it into them.

I even used to hang those beggar brats upside down and beat them like it was Dog Days when they got a bit cocky saying ‘I’m from the Beggar’s Sect.’

What right do beggars have to be arrogant, I’d say.

Kekeke.

It was the same for other sects. People only become humble after going through hardships. If someone who’s truly excellent becomes humble on their own, that’s a sage, not a person, right?

Song Hyeon was among the more humble ones. As a person, there was nothing to fault about his character.

Huh? You don’t think so?

Look here.

Just imagine if someone like Shangguan Hong had been passing by and saw Wei Yan-ho swinging his sword in the air like a madman. Would Shangguan Hong have shown any interest in that?

He would have just thought ‘some crazy bastard is making a scene’ and gone his own way. When you see that Song Hyeon stepped forward to help because he knew something about it, Song Hyeon was truly a good person.

You find it strange?

There’s nothing strange to think about. That’s just how arrogant the Nine Orthodox Sects and noble families were back then. They lived thinking ‘we’re the best, so why should I care about others’ opinions?’

And then they got smashed to pieces.

Huh? By whom?

…By Wei Yan-ho, of course.

What kind of Demonic Cult was it? Before getting beaten by the Demonic Cult, they first got beaten by Wei Yan-ho.

***

“Heoeoeoek.“

Song Hyeon bolted upright violently.

With a terrified face as if being chased by wild beasts, Song Hyeon whipped his head around frantically to look around, then trembled at the voice coming from beside him.

“Have you awakened?”

“…Ah.”

Looking closely, this was his lodging, and the one watching over him was a fellow disciple who had accompanied him.

“What happened to me?”

“Mount Hua found you collapsed on the road and brought you here. What on earth happened?”

“……”

Song Hyeon couldn’t give any answer. He was the one who wanted to ask what the hell that was all about.

“It’s fortunate that you had no injuries and didn’t seem to be in mortal danger, but if a Wudang disciple was attacked within Mount Hua’s territory, this wouldn’t be an ordinary matter.”

“No, that’s not it. An attack, you say.”

That wasn’t an attack.

Right, it couldn’t be called an attack. What kind of crazy attack involves beating someone like a dog for a full shijin?

‘But he says there are no injuries?’

Song Hyeon looked down at his own body.

Considering the beating he took, it wouldn’t have been strange if he had died. I’m not exaggerating – if someone took that much punishment from sword strikes infused with internal energy, even a Vajra warrior would shit blood and go straight to the underworld.

It was miraculous that he didn’t die, but not only was he alive, he didn’t have a single wound.

“Did I dream it?”

It had to be something extraordinary.

But to call it a dream, the vivid pain he felt each time the sword struck and that damned bastard’s face grinning behind the sword were far too clear.

“What exactly happened?”

At Song Jeong’s question, Song Hyeon couldn’t answer.

How was he supposed to say that on his way down from training, he met some kid, got into a conversation that went wrong, and got beaten like a dog?

‘Was it really a dream?’

Song Hyeon pinched his face firmly. No matter how much he thought about it, it felt unreal.

Of course, there are countless monsters in the world, and Song Hyeon might have encountered one of them. But unless that monster was an eighty-year-old who had achieved rejuvenation, there was no way they could beat someone called the greatest late-stage disciple of the Nine Orthodox Sects like a dog.

Lost in a sword duel and been defeated in combat?

That he could understand.

It would be frustrating and infuriating, but he could acknowledge his shortcomings and strive to improve.

But this wasn’t that.

This wasn’t a match, nor was it a duel. It wasn’t even a life-or-death battle. Song Hyeon had simply been one-sidedly beaten by some kid.

It was such a clear-cut incident, but that’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t that he was petty and despicable and couldn’t acknowledge it. If he were to tell Song Jeong right in front of him, ‘The reason I collapsed there yesterday was because I tried to give guidance to someone who looked younger than me, things went wrong, and I got beaten like a dog and fainted,’ what kind of response would he get?

He would find it more realistic to say he had barged into a Mount Hua female disciple’s bedroom and got beaten by the Mount Hua elders.

‘I need to confirm this.’

Song Jeong tilted his head when he saw a determined light appear in Song Hyeon’s eyes.

“Senior brother?”

But Song Jeong’s words didn’t even reach Song Hyeon’s ears.

It was indeed a reasonable thought.

If there were unresolved doubts, it would be right to confirm them and clearly organize the situation. The problem was that in living life, just because you do the right thing doesn’t necessarily mean the results will always be good.

And so Song Hyeon was sinking deeper and deeper into the quagmire.

‘It was around here.’

Shaking off Song Jeong who tried to stop him, Song Hyeon climbed the mountain again, gripping his sword tightly and pushing through the underbrush. The Song Family Ancient Sword clutched to his chest was calming his trembling heart.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Though his mouth said no, what he had experienced yesterday was far too vivid. Even if he denied all the pain inflicted on his eyes, ears, and body, he couldn’t deceive his heart.

‘Does that even make sense!’

If he had at least fought and then gotten beaten, he might have accepted it. But even if he had sparred with his master, he wouldn’t have been beaten so one-sidedly.

So was that young-looking bastard stronger than his master?

Did someone who looked barely of age possess skills surpassing a Mount Hua elder?

‘Rejuvenation would be easier to believe.’

His mind simply couldn’t accept the situation. To resolve this confused state of mind, it seemed he would need to meet that bastard once more.

Pushing through the underbrush toward yesterday’s location, Song Hyeon’s eyes caught sight of a young man in white martial robes still clumsily swinging his sword in an impossible stance in the middle of the clearing.

“…What am I supposed to do about this?”

Wei Yan-ho held the White Sword and scrunched up his face.

“It should be fast but can’t be fast, should be slow but can’t be slow. What is this…?”

There are things called common sense in this world.

Universal truths like ‘water falls from top to bottom, and slackers get dragged to bed.’

But the sword his master had shown him was mercilessly destroying those very truths.

If he couldn’t follow because it was too strong, too fast, too smooth, there would be hope visible. His sword would also become stronger, his sword would also become faster, and his sword would also become smoother.

But if someone holding a sword suddenly started tuk-tuking in the air and then a house appeared out of nowhere, what would someone watching that feel?

A sword that transcended common sense was just that confusing.

The result was visible, but the process of reaching it wasn’t. It was as incomprehensible as chasing a dragon that only showed its tail sticking slightly out of the clouds.

“No, why did you have to show me something like that?”

Wei Yan-ho knew.

He was still getting stronger. As he experienced the world, his enlightenment increased, and that enlightenment was steadily becoming his through the Dream Training Technique.

Wei Yan-ho had reached a realm at an unprecedentedly young age, but actually, the most remarkable part about him wasn’t the realm he had achieved now, but his rate of development.

Baek Mu-han, who was a genius of the ages, chose a path where Wei Yan-ho could become stronger later rather than immediately imparting everything to him now, even if it meant being weaker for the time being.

If Baek Mu-han had decided to pour everything into Wei Yan-ho right now, Wei Yan-ho would be at least twice as strong as he currently was. But with that method, Wei Yan-ho couldn’t catch up to Baek Mu-han. No matter how hard he tried, he would spend his life chasing only Baek Mu-han’s shadow before dying.

That’s why Baek Mu-han cultivated not the completed swordsman of today, but a great vessel. He hoped that by becoming stronger and stronger, Wei Yan-ho would someday be able to establish his own sword.

Thanks to this, Wei Yan-ho was definitely getting stronger at a speed unprecedented in the history of the martial world.

But…

“Just because of that, does this make sense?”

It felt like working hard to improve his running speed, only to be told the final form was flying through the sky. He couldn’t understand at all how to get from here to there.

Every time he dreamed, Baek Mu-han would click his tongue and say, ‘Why can’t you do this, you half-wit?’ Now he could see it even with his eyes closed.

“Keueung.“

He was frustrated.

Wei Yan-ho knew too. This wasn’t a realm you could reach just by spending time. It was a mirage-like sword that he could never touch even if he trained with the Dream Training Technique until the moment his life ended.

Knowing this was why the miracle of Wei Yan-ho, the world’s greatest slacker, coming out with a sword to train was happening. The realm that shimmered before his eyes. The realm he must surely reach someday.

When he reached that realm, how would this world look?

The sword Baek Mu-han was showing was captivating enough to tempt Wei Yan-ho, who would rather die as a slacker than as a martial artist.

However…

“…So what exactly am I supposed to do!”

If it were just a matter of containing strength within softness, he wouldn’t even worry about it. It’s on the same level as ‘be soft yet strong. Be water yet fire, be sky yet sea.’

A sigh escaped automatically and his shoulders slumped.

“He’s not human.”

The conclusion was simple.

Baek Mu-han wasn’t human. Now he really wondered whether the great masters like Heavenly Demon, Dharma, and Zhang Sanfeng, who were passed down only in legend, would actually be stronger than Baek Mu-han.

Even if the Sword Emperor, who was said to have surpassed even them with the sword, came back to life, he would become not a Sword Emperor but a Sword Soldier before Baek Mu-han.

Just as he was trying to suppress the rising irritation, someone slowly walked toward Wei Yan-ho.

“Eh?“

Wei Yan-ho turned his head to look at the approaching person.

“Oh?“

The Wudang Taoist who had gotten beaten like a dog yesterday was slowly approaching Wei Yan-ho with a somewhat frightened face. Gripping his sword tightly in his hand, even as his legs were shaking.

“Wow, impressive.”

To have the courage to come here again after getting beaten like that.

Wei Yan-ho looked at the idiot in front of him again. With that kind of backbone, he’d do great things no matter what he did.

“What is it?”

At Wei Yan-ho’s question, Song Hyeon flinched and swallowed his saliva, then slowly drew his sword.

“Song Hyeon, third-generation disciple of Wudang, requests a sparring match with you.”

“Oh?“

Wei Yan-ho looked at Song Hyeon with surprise.

“Really?”

“…Yes.”

“You’re going to get beaten.”

“…Probably.”

“Then why do you want to spar again? Do you have a hobby of getting beaten? After getting beaten yesterday, did you open your eyes to a new world…?”

“It’s not like that!”

Song Hyeon shouted with his face bright red.

“It’s because I can’t accept it! I Cant!”

“Ah, I see.”

Wei Yan-ho slowly nodded and opened his mouth.

“Whenever I said that, my master said this.”

“…?”

“If you can’t accept it, just get beaten until you can accept it.”

“Huh.”

At that moment, Wei Yan-ho’s sword shot out like lightning, scabbard and all, and struck Song Hyeon’s head.