The Sword Speaks (2)
“Ahjussi, I’m feeling a little nervous...”
A little?
I sighed as I watched Hye-ryeong cling to my hand, rubbing her face against my palm with a tense expression. Did she really need an excuse to do that? It wasn’t like I was pushing her away.
“You could have started from the main tournament.”
Hye-ryeong wasn’t without connections. If she had simply asked, the Hainan Sword Sect would have gladly issued her a recommendation letter to skip the preliminaries. After all, she was the sect’s most cherished disciple.
“I want to fight my way through the preliminaries!”
“If you’re unlucky, you might get eliminated right here.”
Especially if she ran into someone like Namgung Hwi, or that Peng fellow, or Cheong-un from the Mount Hua Sect, or Won-am from the Shaolin Temple. Meeting any of them would be nothing but trouble. Of course, they would all be starting from the main tournament themselves.
It might seem unfair, but it was a form of consideration. If the rising stars of the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans participated in the preliminaries, the talents from smaller sects and wandering martial artists would be overshadowed. That was why most martial artists didn’t complain about the direct entrants.
“Even so, I want to prove myself by climbing up from the preliminaries!”
“Well, you’ve reached the early stage of first-class now, so you should manage.”
Even across the entire Central Plains, there weren’t many martial artists who reached first-class at such a young age. Though first-class might not sound particularly impressive, it was a realm that barely one-third of all martial artists ever attained—and almost none achieved it while still young. By that measure, Hye-ryeong’s accomplishment was exceptional for her age.
...Though I was only a year older myself.
There was a chance we might meet in the preliminaries, but I wasn’t sure. Female martial artists were few in number, so the organizers might group them separately. Even if they didn’t go that far, they would at least take precautions against any unsavory individuals.
“You’re going to win the whole thing, right, Ahjussi?”
“Of course.”
There was no reason to lose to the protagonist, and since the timeline had already twisted, winning was the only option. I also possessed the most detailed information about the participants, which would give me a clear advantage if used properly.
Even without that, the main tournament would mostly consist of disciples from the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans anyway, so their techniques were somewhat predictable.
“Hehe. If it’s you, Ahjussi, I know you’ll win for sure!”
“It’s too early for bold claims. I’ll have to face some formidable opponents.”
The preliminaries would be easy enough. From the main tournament onward, I couldn’t afford to be careless. In this world, even a peak expert could fall to a first-class martial artist if they let their guard down. This wasn’t a game where raw stats decided everything. The weak had their own ways of challenging the strong.
“Sir Wi, I’ll be counting on your performance.”
“I’ll be expecting the same from you, Gongja Ha-jin.”
“Let’s meet in the main tournament.”
“I’ll definitely come find you in the main tournament, Daesahyeong!”
“See you there.”
Ha-jin turned and disappeared with Elder Baek. The main tournament was still days away, so he would be watching us as a spectator until then.
“Knowing the Hainan Sword Sect people are watching suddenly makes me a little nervous...”
“Weren’t you just saying you were a little nervous a moment ago?”
“That was that, and this is this!”
“If you say so.”
No point correcting her when she was already convinced.
“Don’t get too tense. Just do your best. Opportunities like this don’t come around often.”
This kind of tournament-style sparring wasn’t common, so it would be good training for Hye-ryeong. If she was lucky, it might even bring her a step closer to reaching the peak realm—though whether that would actually happen remained to be seen.
“The preliminaries are about to begin! All martial artists who registered for the preliminaries, please gather over here!”
“Hehe, it’s finally starting.”
“Shall we go, then?”
We stood side by side and headed toward the preliminary arena.
“Listen carefully while I explain. The preliminaries will be held as a battle royale—fifty contestants per group, fighting until only one remains.”
At the judge’s explanation, several martial artists raised their hands with questions.
“Hold on. A battle royale? How are we supposed to properly gauge anyone’s skill like that?”
“Over a thousand martial artists registered for the preliminaries. If we held individual matches, the preliminaries alone would take more than half a month. This is the only practical solution, so please understand.”
There were simply too many participants. Most of them accepted the format with reluctant expressions. With a thousand people competing, the organizers had no choice but to use a method that was both quick and capable of separating the skilled from the unskilled.
“Still, this will be a valuable experience. Opportunities to fight in a chaotic melee where death isn’t a concern are rare.”
A chaotic battle meant facing unexpected threats from every direction—an experience usually reserved for life-or-death fights. For young martial artists, it wasn’t a bad lesson.
‘A melee, huh. The key will be identifying the strong ones.’
Several martial artists began scanning the crowd. Judging someone’s realm by appearance alone wasn’t easy, but it was possible to roughly gauge whether someone was mediocre or not just by their expressions.
‘He looks nervous. Probably lacks confidence in his skills.’
‘His solar plexus is half-exposed. I can tell his level.’
The martial artists gathered in the preliminary hall glanced at one another, sizing each other up. Gradually, their gazes began converging on a single point.
‘A Westerner?’
‘He’s enormous.’
‘Are all Westerners built like that?’
“Ahjussi, everyone’s staring...”
“Ignore them.”
Curious gazes pierced William from every direction. He paid them no mind, standing with his arms crossed as he watched the judge.
Those sidelong glances meant nothing to him, and he already knew which contestants would stand out in the preliminaries. There was no reason to worry. The only thing bothering him was how tedious it was to just stand around.
‘I hope they start soon.’
“We’ll begin the group drawing now. Step forward, put your hand in the box, and draw one slip each!”
“So it begins.”
Starting from the front row, people began reaching into the box one by one. A scribe standing beside the judge recorded each name and assigned them to their respective groups.
“Yoo Han-rak! Group Two!”
“Sa Dae-gwang! Group Four!”
“Yuk Sam-myeon! Group Seven!”
Names were called out one after another as the assignments continued. Those who had been placed looked on with a mix of anticipation and tension, listening closely to learn who else would be in their group. Most were unknown, but the names of any notable experts would be recognizable.
“Hope I get an easy group.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. At times like this, it’s better to land in a moderately strong group. You can lie low and make your move at the end.”
People chatted while waiting for their turn. Even though the process moved quickly, it still took nearly two hours before Hye-ryeong and William, who were near the back, were finally called.
“It’s your turn, Ahjussi.”
“I’ll be right back.”
William walked toward the judge at a leisurely pace. As he stepped forward, countless gazes locked onto him.
“Which group will that Westerner end up in?”
“So the famous Blue-Eyed Lion is participating in the tournament... If things go well, I might even get a few drinks out of the story.”
“The Blue-Eyed Lion? That guy is the Blue-Eyed Lion? The one who crushed Cheolpung Fist in an instant?”
At the murmurs, martial artists who were confident in their own skills looked at William’s back with competitive glints in their eyes.
‘A skilled Western martial artist, huh. I hope we’re in the same group.’
‘I heard he’s a fist user, but he’s carrying a sword at his waist... Is it just for show, or does he actually know how to use it?’
‘That’s an unusual sword. Is it from the Western Regions? I’d like to take a closer look...’
‘...He’s not over the age limit, right?’
“...Sir Wi. Please draw your slip.”
The judge spoke with a slightly awkward tone. William smirked knowingly and reached into the box, pulling out a slip. The judge glanced at it and announced in a booming voice.
“William! Group Nine!”
‘Group Nine.’
It was different from the protagonist’s Group Twelve. William returned to his spot and patted Hye-ryeong on the shoulder.
“I’ll be going now.”
“Take care.”
“Lim Hye-ryeong! Group Fourteen!”
‘Group Fourteen. Who was in that group again...’
William looked at Hye-ryeong approaching him and tried to recall the faint memories left in his mind.
‘...I’ll probably need to see them in person to remember.’
It was impossible to remember every single extra. Hye-ryeong would handle herself just fine. The one he needed to focus on right now wasn’t her—it was himself.
‘No room for carelessness.’
William steeled himself for the battle ahead.