An Unintended Sparring Match

Hong-mi glanced at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠two men before heading toward the pavilion.

"Those gentlemen are the Qingcheng Eight Talents of the Qingcheng Sect. Five of them have come to visit the clan this time."

The Qingcheng Eight Talents. Eight outstanding young prodigies of the Qingcheng Sect. Even at a glance, their bearing was exceptional, the distinctive sharpness of Qingcheng evident in their very presence.

Compared to Daoist Gojin, these men are the real masters.

Thinking back on it now, Daoist Gojin had merely been putting on the airs of a renowned expert by virtue of his seniority alone.

As Hong-mi approached the pavilion, a refined-looking Taoist asked,

"Those two are unfamiliar faces. Who might they be?"

None who came and went from the Guest Pavilion were nobodies, and the corridor guest rooms — reserved only for special visitors — were quarters even they had not been granted. Naturally, their gazes were drawn.

Hong-mi answered with a note of pride. She seemed to have already received a briefing from Oh Jang-gwon, for she knew the two men's backgrounds quite well.

"Those gentlemen are Hero Sang and First Hero Po, who together with the Second Young Master recently distinguished themselves in driving off Bulsama."

"You mean the First Hero of the Shaanxi Four Evils?"

Hong-mi's eyes went round.

"No. The Shaanxi Four Chivalrous Heroes."

She put extra force into her voice, sensing that the Qingcheng Eight Talents were looking down on the two men she served.

The Qingcheng Eight Talents' eyes grew cold at her words.

They had heard the news of Namcheon Inn on their way to seek the Jang Clan's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠patronage. In that bloody battle, some had risen as heroes — and others had been covered in disgrace. The greatest shame had fallen on Bulsama, but the Qingcheng Sect had fared little better. The Qingcheng martial artists led by Daoist Gojin had been slaughtered fighting him. That alone would have been bad enough, but word of Daoist Gojin's unsavory conduct had spread, and Qingcheng's honor had been dragged through the mud. People snickered behind their backs at a Taoist whose behavior had been worse than that of the lowest riffraff.

When they had entered the Jang Family Clan Estate, the mocking gazes of so many martial artists had been almost unbearable. And so, as a natural consequence, they could hardly look kindly upon the Shaanxi Four Chivalrous Heroes who had risen as heroes in their place. Blood runs thicker than water, as they say — they felt that those Unorthodox men had played their own part in Qingcheng's disgrace. Unorthodox martial artists had gained honor while Qingcheng had lost it. That alone was enough to nurse a grudge. They had already resolved to teach those men a lesson if they ever crossed paths — and now the very targets had appeared before their eyes. A stroke of fortune, they thought.

The Qingcheng Eight Talents rose from their seats, clasping their fists in salute.

"It is an honor to meet the First Hero whose great name resounds throughout the Shaanxi martial world. I am Haewol, youngest of the Qingcheng Eight Talents."

Seo Joo-cheon answered with a wry smile.

"The fame of the Qingcheng Eight Talents is well known to me. I am Po Un."

For the youngest — not even the senior among them — to offer greetings as their representative was a breach of Jianghu etiquette. It was a slight, an insult that implied the other party was of a level that warranted no more. But Seo Joo-cheon accepted their greeting as if he hadn't noticed.

Sang Ryo regarded them steadily. Perhaps catching a whiff of Daoist Gojin about them, he let out a low hum.

The one who was actually angry was Hong-mi. Having served in the Guest Pavilion for a long time, she knew Jianghu etiquette inside and out. That Haewol, the youngest of the Qingcheng Eight Talents, should be the one greeting Seo Joo-cheon felt like an insult to herself, and her face flushed red.

Even Unorthodox and Black Path martial artists wouldn't stoop to this.

But a mere maid of the Guest Pavilion could not show her displeasure. So she spoke indirectly.

"Hero Po is the Second Young Master's one and only sworn older brother."

In other words: watch your tongue.

But the reply that came back was closer to mockery.

"Hahaha. Riding on another's coattails is no way for a martial artist to conduct himself."

Seo Joo-cheon gave a short laugh. If he let this slide, their insults would continue for as long as he remained at the Jang Clan estate.

In life, Po Un had never shown respect to those who picked fights with him. The blunt question made Haewol flinch in surprise. To display such nerve in front of the Qingcheng Eight Talents was no ordinary thing. But he soon smiled. There was no need to expend mental energy on this.

"I wish to witness the skill that drove off Bulsama. Would you grant this humble Taoist that honor?"

The words were reasonably polite, but the tone was sharp.

"Are you challenging me to a sparring match?"

Seo Joo-cheon used informal speech, and the positions were suddenly reversed.

"I am."

"Fine. I accept. When and where?"

Haewol thought Seo Joo-cheon had taken the bait and inwardly cheered.

"Tomorrow at the Hour of the Dragon, at the Guest Pavilion training grounds."

"I've never sparred before the Hour of the Horse in my life. Let's eat breakfast first."

Haewol shot back,

"Well, they do say even a ghost that died after a meal has a better complexion."

Even as he spoke, Haewol was startled at himself. He had often heard that a man's true nature comes out when he faces a formidable opponent, but he had never imagined he would be the one in that position. His own words and manner — like some neighborhood thug — left him both disappointed in himself and astonished.

The rest of the Qingcheng Eight Talents were no different. They stared at their youngest, stunned by such aggression and fighting spirit. These were men who prided themselves on deep cultivation and martial learning as members of the Qingcheng Eight Talents. They had never expected that meeting someone who merely displeased them would immediately lay bare the bottom of their hearts.

Gok Un, second of the Qingcheng Eight Talents, was about to scold Haewol, but with so many watching he closed his mouth. Before they knew it, martial artists had gathered around the pavilion to watch the argument. Where there was conflict, they flocked like carp to bait. Eyes gleaming with the hope of a fight sparkled here and there.

And yet the name of the Qingcheng Eight Talents was too heavy to take back words already spoken. Canceling a challenge once issued would be another disgrace.

Now that it's come to this, we have no choice but to spar — and win.

The junior disciples of the Hai generation among the Qingcheng Eight Talents had always been worryingly combative, and now they had finally caused an incident. Even Gok-in, third of the Qingcheng Eight Talents, had a look that said this was for the better, and Gok Un — who had led the five of them here — let out a heavier sigh.

They've still got a long way to go. A long way. With cultivation this shallow, I have no face to show our masters.

At least the disciples of the Gok generation understood the gravity of the situation.

"We'll see each other at the Hour of the Horse tomorrow."

Seo Joo-cheon left those cold words behind and departed.

The warriors gathered around the pavilion brightened as if something entertaining had finally broken the tedium of their days. Sparring matches were occasionally held at the Guest Pavilion, but a bout between martial artists of such reputation had not been seen in a long time. Word of the match between the First Hero of the Shaanxi Four Chivalrous Heroes — the rising Unorthodox hero who had driven off Bulsama — and Haewol of the Qingcheng Eight Talents began to spread rapidly among the Jang Clan's warriors.

Because of the martial artists' attention, Sang Ryo and Seo Joo-cheon could not go outside after finishing their evening meal.

"I'm sorry about this. Because of me, Hero Sang can't even go out."

"Think nothing of it."

Sang Ryo smiled as he spoke.

"Though I must say, I was surprised."

"About what?"

"I thought Hero Po would refuse the Qingcheng Eight Talents' challenge. I didn't expect you to play along with such a childish provocation."

Seo Joo-cheon gave a short laugh.

"I accepted for a few reasons. The three of us have a reputation for defeating Bulsama. If I refused a challenge, not only I but my sworn brother and Hero Sang would be reduced to cowards. I can't allow that. Especially in a place like the Jang Clan, where warriors of every background gather — once you're looked down on, you can be pushed aside. Putting on airs of dignity doesn't earn you any credit here. That's why I accepted. I need to show a clear superiority so that no one will ever dare look down on my sworn brother or Hero Sang."

Hearing this, Sang Ryo understood that Seo Joo-cheon had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠accepted the challenge for Jang Hyeon-nam's sake and his own.

"But among the Qingcheng Eight Talents who came to the Jang Clan, the highest-ranking Taoist is the second, Daoist Gok Un. Why did the eighth, Daoist Haewol, issue the challenge? Even if the second stepped forward against Hero Po, victory wouldn't be certain."

Sang Ryo found it a little puzzling. Seo Joo-cheon was somewhat surprised to discover this naive streak in him.

"If Daoist Gok Un, the second, lost to me, it could be seen as a defeat for the Qingcheng Eight Talents as a whole. But if the youngest challenges me and loses, it can be dismissed as the youngest's youthful spirit. If he wins, it means the Qingcheng Eight Talents are strong enough that even their youngest can prevail. In other words, they profit if they win, and break even if they lose."

"Ah. Now that you put it that way, I see."

Sang Ryo nodded.

"The Qingcheng Eight Talents are prodigies the Qingcheng Sect has cultivated with great care. They won't be easy."

"It won't be a simple match. They're the rising talents put forward by one of the Nine Great Sects — at the very least, they'll be First-Rate. That's why I thought I'd circulate my energy a bit. Would Hero Sang stand guard for me?"

"Of course. I'll stand watch until Hero Po finishes his circulation."

"Thank you."

Sang Ryo marveled at Seo Joo-cheon's manner — cautious and giving his all, no matter who the opponent.

Once Sang Ryo had gone outside, Seo Joo-cheon climbed onto the bed, settled into a lotus position, and drank the Gongcheong Seokyu.

Throughout the journey so far, he had never had the leisure to circulate his energy in peace, and so he had not been able to take the elixir.

Now I can finally accumulate some energy.

The situation had turned somewhat absurd, but with a sparring match ahead, his focus sharpened. Even with Gwonshijeonggong, he had not yet reached One Gapja of internal energy, and against a true master he would inevitably struggle. He had managed to hold his own against Peak experts like Bulsama so far, but if he encountered a master of the Peak Realm, even Gwonshijeonggong might prove useless. Indeed, if Do-eo-ak-jon reached the Peak Realm through an elixir, Seo Joo-cheon would be no match for him.

To face a Peak Realm master, I need to reach at least First-Rate — only then will Gwonshijeonggong even be usable.

His body began to grow warm. The energy of the Gongcheong Seokyu spread through every meridian.

Strange. The White Serpent Sect's Boundless Serpent Coiling Skill absorbs the elixir's energy far better than the Phoenix Time-Returning Heaven Art. Several times better, even.

The Phoenix Time-Returning Heaven Art was a superior martial art compared to the White Serpent Sect's teachings. He had set it that way in the original work. That much was clear from looking at his three sworn brothers — their martial arts had advanced a full stage after obtaining it.

Seo Joo-cheon had thought the Phoenix Time-Returning Heaven Art was adapting to his body as well, but for some reason its power fell short of the White Serpent 72 Sword Art, and its internal method was less efficient than the Boundless Serpent Coiling Skill.

Is Po Un himself simply better suited to the White Serpent Sect's martial arts? According to the story's setting, the Phoenix Time-Returning Heaven Art should fit him well too.

After pondering, Seo Joo-cheon concluded that the Phoenix Time-Returning Heaven Art simply didn't suit him. Even the finest medicine works differently depending on the person.

The White Serpent Sect's Boundless Serpent Coiling Skill — a method whose name meant countless serpents coiled and tangled together — produced a strong sensation of true energy intertwining through every meridian as he circulated it.

Normally when you circulate energy, it feels like internal energy pooling in the meridians. With the Boundless Serpent Coiling Skill, it feels like the energy is twisting and gathering together.

That was probably why the word "coiling" had been used.

But why make the energy coil in such an inefficient way? I can't make sense of it.

Seo Joo-cheon had never designed the Boundless Serpent Coiling Skill. It was a method Po Un had already mastered with his own body. Either another writer had added it in a revision, or it had come into existence when the story became reality.

If a writer added this method, there must have been a reason.

Not knowing what that reason was frustrated him.

I'll think about the questions later. For now, focus on circulating energy.

Before he knew it, Seo Joo-cheon had sunk into the samadhi of energy circulation.

Seo Joo-cheon opened his eyes, sensing that the energy of the Gongcheong Seokyu he had consumed had fully melted into his body.

About six hours of circulation?

His body felt refreshed, light as down. And the scenery around him felt as close as if it were right before his eyes.

The sound of Hong-mi's broom sweeping the courtyard outside drifted in, along with the faint snatches of a tune she hummed. A bird in the tree pecked at an insect clinging to a branch. The wind teased the leaves, their slender bodies twisting this way and that, and struck the paper window with a sound like a bruise.

Never before had the sounds of nature felt so vivid.

What is this?

The question rose — and with it, a cheer rang through his mind.

These are the signs that appear when one has achieved One Gapja.

Po Un's mind conveyed experience and knowledge to Seo Joo-cheon. Instinctively, Seo Joo-cheon expanded his sensory range. Movements in a slightly wider radius came into focus.

I can even sense the martial artists training at the grounds. Their breathing, the sounds of their weapons.

When he had written wuxia novels, he had treated the One Gapja level as if it were something basic. Now he realized how wrong that portrayal had been. One Gapja of internal energy was already a realm beyond human limits.

One Gapja is sixty years of internal energy — isn't that only natural? It's power you spend a lifetime striving for. Of course it would have this kind of capability.

He understood now why First-Rate masters were so rare in reality. Possessing One Gapja of internal energy required effort, luck, and talent all to align.

Of course, this is a world I designed, so it may have been structured this way — but other parts formed on their own without my setting them. Most of it arose naturally. In reality, Peak Realm internal energy doesn't let you collapse houses or level mountains. That kind of absurdity only works in novels.

Seo Joo-cheon thought he had done well, when writing Invincible Lay Disciple, to set Voice Transmission as the benchmark for One Gapja of internal energy. If he had made Voice Transmission something any dog or cow could do, there would have been no way to distinguish the levels of martial artists.

"You circulated energy all night. It seems you've achieved something."

At Sang Ryo's words, Seo Joo-cheon asked,

"All night?"

"Yes. It's morning now."

Come to think of it, every sound around him was a morning sound. Seeing the morning sunlight streaming through the window, he understood clearly.

"I was so absorbed in circulating energy I lost track of time."

Sang Ryo beamed.

"Congratulations."

Seo Joo-cheon had no desire to deny it.

"Thank ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you. It's thanks to Hero Sang standing guard that I could circulate with a peaceful mind."

Sang Ryo felt the deep, quietly gathered look in Seo Joo-cheon's eyes and the profound, mysterious presence radiating from his entire body, and realized that Seo Joo-cheon had reached a realm even he himself did not yet fully understand.