Why So Surprised? (2)

“Confirmation.”

Jwa Go-Hak shook his head, sneer unmistakable.

“I respect that ceaseless fighting spirit of yours, but what will it change?”

From his composed, confident air it was hard to tell, but Baek Cheon was sure he’d found a clue.

‘It never made sense in the first place.’

Jwa Go-Hak was strong—Baek Cheon knew that from their clash. The problem wasn’t his strength but how he used it: that strange restraint.

‘Could anyone be this strong? Even if that author truly learned martial skills beyond ours?’

No. Impossible.

If Jwa Go-Hak had devoted himself solely to martial arts, Baek Cheon might have had to accept it. But he was a scholar first, not a warrior. For a man who split his life between letters and swordplay to pummel Baek Cheon—who’d trained in martial arts his whole life—without ever letting him counter… could talent or technique alone explain it?

‘If that were true, I’d rather stick my face in a bowl of water and die.’

That would be to deny his own effort. Baek Cheon would sooner lose his head than admit it.

Only one conclusion remained.

“In reality, he’s not that strong.”

“Huh?”

“That’s right.”

Whatever appears true now is the truth. He had to start by believing that.

Jwa Go-Hak laughed derisively, as if Baek Cheon spoke nonsense.

“Have you lost your mind or something?”

“…I’d rather it were so, too.”

He knew how absurd that sounded after being battered. Still, Baek Cheon believed it without doubt.

‘Or else that bastard wouldn’t be grinning like that.’

Chung Myung’s expression a moment ago—his reaction had confirmed Baek Cheon’s victory. If not, it would’ve been that madman rampaging to kill Baek Cheon, foaming at the mouth over Mount Hua’s honor.

Baek Cheon smiled slightly.

“If you think I’m talking nonsense, why not see for yourself? If you have no reservations, there’s no need to hesitate.”

“Hesitate? I showed you leniency… So that’s why generosity must be given selectively. One must know who’s owed gratitude.”

Jwa Go-Hak snorted and raised his sword again.

“Allow me to give you a special lesson on gratitude, Master.”

“Should I thank you?”

“Don’t be modest!”

Jwa Go-Hak closed the distance in an instant and lunged.

Whoooosh!

He thrust without hesitation. The blade, which had stabbed the air twice menacingly, seemed to pierce Baek Cheon’s whole body as if splitting him apart—a dazzling, flawless technique with no visible weakness.

But Baek Cheon saw the dissonance hidden inside that perfect stance.

Clang.

His sword barely blocked Jwa Go-Hak’s flying blade.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

As if anticipating each response, Jwa Go-Hak assaulted Baek Cheon’s body in rapid succession. Each time Baek Cheon lagged by a beat, red lines marked his skin.

He avoided fatal wounds, but the evidence of being overwhelmed was undeniable.

“Sasuk!”

“Goddamn it! Nothing’s changed!”

“Ah, Amitabha.”

The Mount Hua disciples, who had clung to hope, cried out in bewilderment. To them, Jwa Go-Hak was still formidable, and Baek Cheon seemed unable to mount a counter.

“Wait.”

But Yu Yiseol alone noticed one change: Baek Cheon’s eyes no longer wavered.

Clang!

Again Baek Cheon barely blocked a strike; it was obvious he now struggled even to keep pace.

‘For something so trivial.’

A triumphant smile spread across Jwa Go-Hak’s face. Breaking Mount Hua’s sword as a scholar was meaningful; making this obnoxious fellow kneel gave him personal satisfaction.

‘It’s almost over!’

A couple more exchanges—within two or three, they’d surely break Baek Cheon. Everyone thought so. As expected, one thrust stabbed Baek Cheon’s shoulder before he could dodge.

And at that moment:

Flash!

Baek Cheon’s sword, which had been struggling to follow, suddenly shifted and flew toward Jwa Go-Hak’s chest. Instead of a blade, Baek Cheon’s left hand shot out in front of the steel.

‘What?’

Jwa Go-Hak’s eyes widened. He twisted his body with a near-scream, but his reaction came a hair too late; his chest was sliced and droplets of blood spattered.

Recoiling in shock, Jwa Go-Hak glared as if asking what the hell that was. Baek Cheon met the stare with a calm smile.

“Why so surprised?”

“…You.”

“You said something different. You said you could predict all my strikes. No… even if you couldn’t predict them, you said if you could catch up speed-wise there’d be no problem?”

“What on earth are you doing? If I hadn’t twisted my sword path just now, your wrist would have been cut off. Don’t you realize?”

“I know.”

Baek Cheon answered casually.

“And? What of it?”

“…W-what stupid talk is that.”

“It’s not stupid. I’m simply certain.”

“What?”

Baek Cheon curled his lip into an irritating smile.

“A deskbound scholar like you wouldn’t accept risking a hole in his chest just to cut my wrist, would you?”

“…”

“If it were me, I’d have cut without a second thought.”

Jwa Go-Hak gaped in bewilderment.

“What crazy nonsense.”

“Well, it was reckless, I admit. But it proved a point.”

“…”

“You’ve wasted some time. Now, come on then. I’ll smash you.”

Jwa Go-Hak ground his teeth.

‘This insolent bastard thinks he’s gotten lucky with a one-time gambit of swapping peach for plum and is arrogant about it.’

It was nothing but a fluke. Such a situation wouldn’t arise again. Now that he knew Baek Cheon’s method, he could prepare.

“Let’s see how long that confidence lasts!”

He charged with a fierce shout, feinted at the face, twisted the blade path several times, then slashed broadly at the wrist.

‘Here.’

These swordsmen’s whole operation hinged on the wrist and fingertips. By attacking the wrist and keeping blade contact, one could neutralize the opponent’s strengths.

Clang!

Baek Cheon’s blade, trying to form the Plum Blossom Sword in the air, couldn’t swing and was blocked. Jwa Go-Hak lightly flicked it aside and followed with another attack.

‘Press blades, deflect, repulse to dodge sideways, or risk everything and throw the body beneath the blade.’ He knew the responses. If he continued accordingly…

“What!”

Jwa Go-Hak’s eyes bulged as if they’d pop. When he thrust, Baek Cheon casually pulled the flicked blade back.

Whooosh!

Jwa Go-Hak’s sword sliced through air. With the blocking blade pulled away he could have thrust further, but startled, he stuck to his planned path.

Flash!

Baek Cheon’s blade split through the opening like lightning.

Clang!

The situation reversed. Baek Cheon’s sword repeatedly pierced Jwa Go-Hak’s body.

Yet Jwa Go-Hak, who had been deftly parrying, now sweat profusely. Defending Baek Cheon’s attacks overwhelmed him.

“W-what?”

“Why is he acting like that all of a sudden?”

“Has that author’s sword suddenly grown stronger?”

The baffled voices came not from the swordsmen but from the scholars watching.

They knew how perfect Jwa Go-Hak’s ‘ten-thousand swords’ technique was—stronger in defense than offense—but they couldn’t fathom how he, mastered to the extreme, could fail against what looked like a trivial blade. If they were in his place, they’d suffer the same fate.

Because…

‘This madman!’

Jwa Go-Hak let out a silent scream.

Baek Cheon’s blade that had slyly probed his lower belly spun meaninglessly, slid toward his instep, wavered up and down, then slipped backward. When he scrambled to follow, it stopped and whirled round and round.

‘What kind of damned butcher’s sword moves are these!’

He was beside himself. All of Baek Cheon’s moves seemed nonsensical—wasteful, reckless plays whose intent he couldn’t grasp. Third-rate—no, worse. Even a ten-day novice wouldn’t use such forms in real combat.

“What are you doing! Do it properly!”

“What a hurtful thing to say. I’m really trying my best.”

“You, you bastard!”

“Why the fuss? You said forms are just repeated, obvious movements that can be anticipated.”

“Ugh, arghhhh!”

Realizing he’d been toyed with, Jwa Go-Hak roared and thrust recklessly. Baek Cheon changed tempo in an instant and the blade bit into his shoulder blade.

“Kraak!”

Jwa Go-Hak screamed in pain.

“Tsk, tsk. Such poor dignity over a mere scratch.”

“You little bastard!”

“Didn’t the Confucian scholars go on about cause and effect and propriety?”

Baek Cheon smiled faintly and swung again.

Jwa Go-Hak, cold sweat beading, barely parried a blade coming on a bizarre trajectory.

‘Stay calm.’

This man was deliberately tossing absurd forms to prevent prediction—acting beyond common sense to fluster him. So stay calm. No matter how much he strays, the actions when blades meet are limited. Stay calm and…

Whoosh.

Then Baek Cheon’s sword pierced toward Jwa Go-Hak’s face faster than before. It was impossible to change that quickly. Jwa Go-Hak dropped his doubts and struck upward with all his strength.

‘Got it!’

Baek Cheon’s thrust bounced off. If he seized the gap now he could regain the advantage…

“Huh?”

The blade—went up too high.

The moment he lifted, there was no repulsion from the opponent’s weapon. Jwa Go-Hak’s blade, powered to deflect the quick strike, soared emptily into the air.

‘He let go of the sword?’

Just as realization hit, Baek Cheon released his sword entirely and leapt at Jwa Go-Hak’s exposed torso.

Jwa Go-Hak clenched his teeth. He could still avoid it. He could still—

Squee!

Baek Cheon clapped both palms together right before Jwa Go-Hak’s face. Tensed to dodge, Jwa Go-Hak flinched like one pricked by a needle.

“Ah?”

In that instant Baek Cheon grinned and drove his large fist into Jwa Go-Hak’s face.

“Guuwaaaaaak!”

With a pig-slaughtering sound, Jwa Go-Hak collapsed and tumbled across the ground.