Return of the Mount Hua Sect Chapter 3: What The Hell Is This Situation? (3)

Gu Chil found himself in a state of deep consternation. Chung Myung had departed the tent with ear-splitting shouts, only to return moments later spouting utter gibberish.

“I’m heading to Mount Hua.”

Gu Chil simply fixed his gaze upon him, offering no verbal response.

“This might sound preposterous, but do grant me a moment to explain.”

Gu Chil had, in truth, been curious to ascertain the extent of its absurdity. However, this curiosity was abruptly extinguished by Cho Sam’s subsequent declaration.

“I could have easily slipped away without a word, but I felt compelled to inform you, recognizing the value of the information you shared.”

What a complete debacle.

Gu Chil saw no logical reason to entertain the ramblings of a lunatic, yet he remained, swayed by Cho Sam’s apparent sincerity and a sense of pity.

“I shall repay kindness doubly and resentment tenfold. The day will come when I settle this debt, so engrave this name in your memory: Chung Myung of the Mount Hua Sect. We shall meet again, and I will repay the favor I owe you.”

His pronouncements possessed a certain eloquence, at least. It might have been considerably more impactful had Cho Sam not been a bruised mess, clad in rags.

“…Utter madness.”

Chung Myung’s countenance darkened considerably.

“I understand it sounds peculiar, but heed my words. One day, they will alter your destiny—”

“Wang Cho is searching for you. Your life is forfeit if he finds you.”

“Is that so?” Their eyes met.

“Heheheheh.” The world, it seemed, was a tapestry woven with all manner of individuals. The ascent of someone to new heights was neither universally perceived as grand nor particularly peculiar. Of course, such an accomplishment transpiring overnight was indeed strange, even unsettling.

“Well then, I must be on my way!”

“…Return swiftly. Lest he truly beat you to death.”

“I am departing! Regardless, remember this: ‘Chung Myung of Mount Hua’. Keep that name in mind!” With these words, Chung Myung departed with a bold stride.

Gu Chil let out a sigh, shaking his head. Life was an unpredictable journey, marked by its share of fortunes and misfortunes. Yet, if Cho Sam were apprehended, his demise would be certain.

“What am I to tell Wang Cho…?”

Without warning, the tent flap was flung open, and Chung Myung re-entered, his presence announcing his return.

What? Why had he returned? Gu Chil, however, was afforded no opportunity to pose the question.

“Hey!”

“Wha—?”

“What was that scoundrel’s name?”

“Whom do you mean?”

“The one who struck me.”

“Ah… Wang Cho? Wang Cho—his true name is Jong Pal.”

“Jong Pal? Sounds rather like a beggar’s moniker. Convey this message to that ruffian: should our paths cross again, I shall not spare him.”

In Gu Chil’s estimation, it was Wang Cho who was more likely to be the one who “shall not spare.”

“Now, I am truly departing.” Chung Myung sauntered out of the tent, a whistle escaping his lips.

Just as Gu Chil believed the situation had reached a conclusion, Chung Myung’s head reappeared within the tent’s confines.

“Ah! What is it now?”

“Hey.”

“What? What now? Why are you back again?”

“In which direction does Shaanxi’s Mount Hua lie?”

No matter how one looked at it, this individual was clearly unhinged.

Chung Myung ran, and ran, and ran. There was not a soul in existence who would offer passage to a mere urchin all the way to the province of Shaanxi.

It was beyond belief… his two legs, once so robust and dependable, now ached with fatigue. Even his spirit felt inexplicably weak.

Had Chung Myung ever ridden a steed or a carriage? Never. He possessed the ability to outpace any horse and lacked the inclination for leisurely travel. If one were to tally the distances he had traversed in his prior existence, it would suffice to encircle the central plains a dozen times. Hence, he had set off at a run without a second thought.

Yet, before he had even properly exerted himself, he found himself sprawled upon the ground.

“Hack! Hack! Ugh! Ack! Oh, heavens! I shall perish at this rate!”

He could scarcely conceive of a physique so frail. His limbs, once akin to steel, had dwindled to mere sticks and bone, and his eternally resilient heart now fluttered erratically.

What absurdity was this? It felt as though his heart might erupt from his chest at any moment.

“Ahhh! What manner of vessel is this body?!” He had merely taken a single jump! Had he truly run for an hour or two? Nay! It had been mere minutes, and yet he was already gasping for air! How profoundly deficient was this young beggar’s physical form?

“Ughh.” The reality of his condition was starkly apparent. Disregarding any considerations of internal Qi, his very body was in a dire state—a mere husk of skin and bones, devoid of any substantial flesh.

And he harbored aspirations of reaching the province of Shaanxi?

A futile aspiration! He would undoubtedly collapse from sheer exhaustion long before setting foot upon Mount Hua.

Should he find himself in the afterlife, his former companions would surely mock him. “The Plum Blossom Sword Saint, felled by exhaustion?” they would jest.

“Hahahaha!” A derisive laugh erupted from Chung Myung’s lips. Despite his utmost efforts, he lacked the strength to even remain upright.

Martial practitioners typically possessed formidable physiques, but this particular vessel was lamentably inadequate. Chung Myung remained uncertain whether it would succumb to overexertion, excessive contemplation, or simply pervasive hunger! Ignorant of the cause, he could only resort to laughter.

“If I am to journey to Shaanxi province, my immediate priority must be to rectify this enfeebled body!”

But by what means could he possibly transform his physical form? Fortify it with vitality? The answer was already clear in his mind.

“Well, I simply need to commence my martial arts training!”

A new beginning. Other individuals might fail to grasp the sheer magnificence of this opportunity.

They say those who fall short harbor the most regrets, and indeed, it holds true. Yet, even those who reach the pinnacle are not exempt from them.

If only I had acted differently then!

If only I had dedicated myself to learning the fundamentals!

If only I had trained when our master pulled my ear instead of fleeing!

If only I hadn't been caught pilfering from the secret liquor reserve…

No, let's just dismiss that last thought.

Well!

"I can start anew." In his previous life, Chung Myung was an unparalleled swordsman among the third generation disciples. However, this did not bring him contentment. Instead, as his strength grew and his martial arts comprehension deepened, he realized more keenly than anyone how inefficient his training had been and how shaky his foundation truly was.

Foundation.

That abominable foundation was the very reason his Sahyung and Sajae met their unfortunate fates!

Chung Myung detested the foundational classes, but he grasped their critical importance once he became a disciple. After all, a strong foundation underpins a person's existence. A towering structure demands a robust base; the height it can reach is dictated by how well that base is established. However, the younger Chung Myung remained oblivious to this. No matter how diligently his instructors explained, he simply couldn't comprehend. Even when understanding dawned, he lacked the will to commit fully.

Why?

If Chung Myung was occupied with solidifying his base, what about the disciple beside him who had already erected three stories? Who wouldn't feel the urge to accelerate their progress?

Furthermore!

"They perpetually urged us to focus on our foundation and basics, yet when we did, they merely showered praise upon those already ahead!" Such is the brutal reality of power supremacy!

He could, however, understand. The masters were, after all, only human.

It was common knowledge that great achievements stemmed from a solid foundation. Nevertheless, while their disciples toiled with their fundamentals, the masters occupied themselves with commending those exhibiting exceptional swordsmanship.

This much was tolerable. The Mount Hua Sect instilled patience, ensuring its disciples were quite adept at managing their emotions.

However, after evening practice, students and masters alike would gather for celebratory drinks. What if one person began boasting about their disciple, even during these gatherings? The intoxicated individuals would extol their disciples as unparalleled prodigies, leaving those with no such achievements to merely endure the situation in silence.

That was the limit. No more forbearance.

The following morning, the accumulated frustrations were vented upon their disciples.

With such masters setting the example, what kind of foundation could possibly be laid? They were far too preoccupied with showcasing their star pupils! It was a detrimental cycle, where a Sajae's skills were then passed down to their own disciples.

"But!" The Chung Myung of today was different!

There was no longer any need to hurry. No master urged him onward. Having already witnessed the path he needed to traverse, he could now proceed deliberately, one step at a time.

Foundations? While others might carve into level ground, Chung Myung would level mountains. His tower would be erected upon an unassailable peak!

The dantian and the inner qi. Within any physique, the dantian initially remains weak. As cultivation progresses, it strengthens and becomes more capable of containing qi, eventually supplying the necessary qi for one's martial arts. A finely honed dantian can often be the decisive factor when confronting other martial artists.

Picture a small snowball rolling down a mountainside. A snowball the size of a fingernail gradually expands to the size of a fist, then grows exponentially. Before long, it transforms into a colossal avalanche, irresistible by human strength.

What Chung Myung needed to achieve was the creation of a robust dantian to house his qi. This meant he had to locate a mountain where the snowball's descent would be ceaseless.

"Very well then!" Chung Myung surveyed his surroundings with caution before commencing. Establishing a dantian for the very first time carried inherent risks. To prevent any potential harm, he ventured away from populated areas searching for a secluded spot. While the likelihood of injury was minimal, why court unnecessary danger?

Chung Myung entered the forest and settled into a cross-legged position beneath the expansive canopy of a towering tree.

"Now, from where do I begin?" A multitude of thoughts coursed through his mind: all the teachings of the Mount Hua Sect, including over a dozen distinct methods for channeling qi.

There was the self-restoring qi.

The Plum Blossom Heart technique, intrinsically linked to the Plum Blossom Sword.

The internal qi cultivation, said to amplify one's qi sevenfold.

The qi regulation method, reputed to encompass all forms of energy.

The sheer number of techniques swirling in his head would astound most individuals. Were he not to restrict himself solely to the doctrines of Mount Hua, Chung Myung could have acquired a vast array of skills.

Yet, Chung Myung did not even entertain such possibilities. He knew precisely which technique he was destined to learn.

"Equilibrium of Six."

For the first time, Chung Myung's voice resonated with absolute clarity and unwavering confidence.