Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Sword Telekinesis
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Lee Soo-young's order was simple.
Take down the Peak Realm expert.
The A-rank master.
The Phoenix of Fist.
Everything is allowed, including joint attacks and ambushes. Vale Tudo.
However, upon hearing her words, all the students, including me, must have harbored the same doubt.
'How far does "everything" go?'
Of course, Lee Soo-young had said everything was permitted.
But no one's insane enough to order braised spicy crawfish just because the section chief said, "I'm having jjajangmyeon, so order whatever you want."
"What are you doing?"
As if such concerns were pointless, Lee Soo-young extended one hand forward.
She beckoned clearly: come at me.
"Time starts now."
A few students kicked off the ground upon hearing that.
From my past-life experience clashing blades, I figured Veronica would charge right out, but surprisingly, she just tracked them with her blue eyes.
Well, it might sound harsh for a high school girl, but from my past and present lives' experiences, Veronica's mindset had a distinctly animalistic edge.
Eats when hungry, sleeps when tired. Doesn't sweat the aftermath of any mischief. Fights anyone she feels like fighting.
-But only when she thinks she can win.
She banters freely with Baek Chan, who she sees as similar... or maybe beneath her, but even I could tell she prickles and pushes away from Son Ha-rin, the overwhelming superior, ignoring any girl-friendship nonsense.
There could be other reasons, but Veronica's attitude wasn't entirely unrelated to martial arts, in my view.
Anyway, her uncanny knack for sorting strong from weak was closer to a beast's instinct than human reason.
That was why she wasn't charging headlong at the Peak Realm expert right in front of her.
Even if she drew her sword, it'd be after gauging how Lee Soo-young handled the moth-like rushes from these students.
In fact, the top hopefuls charging in were getting swept away like fallen leaves in an autumn gale by her fists.
"Namgoong Min-soo, your energy waves are badly unstable. Moves without inner power backing aren't techniques at all. Don't drag half-baked forms into real combat."
Her instep hooked the male student's nape in a flash. She whipped her leg like a lash, yanking the promising Namgoong Family collateral helplessly along until his face planted into the ground with a roll.
Even as a side branch, a late-stage talent from a top-ten sect that local powerhouses couldn't touch went down without a single graze, much less a solid hit.
Watching that up close, the number of bold rushers plummeted.
After Namgoong Min-soo, two more got brief feedback and beatings, turning the students far more passive.
Like the girl rooted in place, flailing her whip to carve out a three-meter safety zone.
Sacrificing initiative for security—a purely defensive play. Viable in some spots. But...
'Ah, that's not how you use a whip.'
The next instant, Lee Soo-young voiced my inner mutter verbatim and stepped forward.
"Kang Seo-yeon. You're wasting your flexible weapon's strengths. Suits you better with a sword."
Lee Soo-young dove without hesitation into the hemispherical blur of the whip's afterimages buzzing like angry bees. Her military boot snapped up mid-air, intercepting the tip.
Pang! The delayed boom spread a hazy shockwave, bending the whip's path. She surged through the gap, twisting her body in a rotation from ankle to waist to back to shoulder.
Thud! Shoulder-checked like a drum, Kang Seo-yeon rocketed skyward like a roe deer hit by a truck.
Namgoong Min-soo—snapped alert, retreated, wiping his double nosebleed—dashed out to catch her.
"You okay?"
"Ugh, yeah..."
Far simpler than Baek Chan's moves against me last spar, yet textbook clean without fluff. Baek Chan beside me clocked it too, frowning with a soft tongue-click.
Coincidence or unspoken pact, the first wave was mostly Son Ha-rin's crew. Veronica, Baek Chan, me, and some guy named Park Jong-myeong just spectated live.
And finally, outside our group, Son Ha-rin stood alone without joining. Everyone else in Group 1 had challenged Lee Soo-young and dropped in under ten seconds, leaving her the sole one upright on two feet.
Son Ha-rin stepped forward slow, lips parting.
"Wind Moon Sect, Son Ha-rin."
Last class-assignment spar, Baek Chan and I skipped the orthodox sect-and-name intros.
Baek Chan's from a corporate dynasty—chairman's S-rank, but murim ties loose. Me? Long-haul vagabond ronin. Roots shallow for both.
But successors from historic "orthodox" sects play different? Son Ha-rin cupped hands, declaring her sect and name.
Like this was formal spar with Lee Soo-young—even after she'd stamped it not.
Simultaneously, she raised clasped hands to chest height.
Full fist salute incoming? Nope. Index and middle fingers extended together, thumbs crossed... a hand seal. Past life, Mosan Sect sorcerers pulled those.
Her golf bag popped open on its own. Four blades erupted with explosive force.
The quartet floated mid-air, sunlight glancing off them dazzlingly as they orbited Son Ha-rin. Beyond startling—straight mystical.
Even the beaten students' groans cut short.
"Crazy, actual Sword Telekinesis..."
Someone's awed gasp shattered the hush.
Veronica snorted, head turning away.
Sword Telekinesis.
Frankly... I was shocked too.
Past life, three years same school as Son Ha-rin, spectated her matches plenty—but first live Sword Telekinesis.
It's pinnacle martial arts: master basics first, barely scratch entry. No call to bust it on students.
'So "not Object Manipulation" meant this?'
Sword Telekinesis on bag-stashed blades. More absurd than Object Manipulation, honestly.
Peak Realm breathes Object Manipulation easy. Sword Telekinesis? User's ultra-rare signature move.
Lee Soo-young unleashed her pent-up aura. Surging power kicked up a training-ground dust storm.
Her fist condensed colorless qi into visible thick haze.
Same vein as what I drew to leg-chop Baek Chan's tempered limbs—but amplified magnitudes. Power tier apart.
A-rank Fist Gang. Skipped it even against Han Moo-young's late-gen kids earlier. Out from jump now.
Murim forums float prime-era clips: her smashing APCs.
Square undefended? Only Baek Chan keeps human shape here.
First move from the underdog: Son Ha-rin. Defense blade aside, three lunged simultaneous at Lee Soo-young.
Student eyes couldn't track.
Opponent: Lee Soo-young. Golden-gen geniuses hailed? She's the grown genius.
A-rank superhuman entry means reactions eclipse mortal limits.
I caught her vet super-eyes—superhuman-attuned—pinpointing all three trajectories.
Her hands blurred white-hot instant.
Clang! Fist-Gang right smacks one aside. Deflect tangles the trailers. Last clashes her flared left knife-hand, shockwave blasting.
Each Sword Telekinesis edge fiercer than average transcendent strike—yet one-breath perfect block.
'Yeah, three Bs taking A was bunk anyway.'
Hand-wielded sword leaks tells: steps, shoulders, gaze for predicts. Pure reflex vs. Sword Telekinesis.
Lee Soo-young? Zero strain so far.
Swordplay mystery rare worldwide—but genius-lifelong grind's might? Equal enigma.
Three blades regrouped mid-air, relaunched.
Trajectories... off subtle from prior.
Prior: quick-sword slashes-thrusts.
Now: wild flails disrupting sight—illusory form.
Swap principles seamless-fast? Not solo-art deep-dive.
Grasp myriad sword essences, apply fluid.
Son Ha-rin's genius dimming all comers.
Huashan-types peak illusion signature—but norm: feints veil killers.
So what killer hides in her flashy Sword Telekinesis feint?
Son Ha-rin showed, not told.
Three blades dodge-clash, vision-baiting—meanwhile, she snatched her guard sword, footwork blurring forward charge.