Pride
“By the way, it seems you’ve made quite a few accomplishments.”
“Yes. I got lucky and managed some decent results.”
“Especially where your looks are concerned. Covering yourself up like that makes you look considerably better.”
“…….”
It was an irritating thing to hear, but it was also true, so he couldn’t deny it. Ever since this shell had covered him, looking in the mirror had gotten a little easier.
“But are you planning to live like that for the rest of your life?”
“Who knows.”
Even Han Yuhyeon himself didn’t fully understand the nature or cause of this shell. For some reason, the moment he reached the seventh star of the True Dragon Ascending Heaven-Shocking Art, scale-like plating had sprouted and covered his entire body—exactly as if he were constantly running Dragon Scale Mountain-Shatter. And yet his spiritual energy wasn’t draining, which meant he was effectively stuck in a permanent state of that technique.
Still, he had a gut feeling. Once the True Dragon Ascending Heaven-Shocking Art reached the tenth star—true mastery—this shell would break. From here through the ninth star was probably just a transitional phase on the road to completion.
“Anyway, how’s business going?”
A crack formed in Baekri-wan’s previously serene expression. He had asked more or less already knowing the answer, but he hadn’t expected a reaction this strong.
“Why do you ask?”
“I was just curious.”
“W-well. I don’t really pay attention to that sort of thing, so I wouldn’t know.”
Anyone looking could tell she cared an enormous amount. Watching the ever-composed Baekri-wan lose her footing was, frankly, refreshing.
“Is that so. If you were struggling, I was going to share a way to break through the problem—but I suppose you don’t need it.”
“What.”
Baekri-wan’s pupils wavered. For someone as prideful as her, Han Yuhyeon’s words were a dilemma.
Taking him at face value wounded her pride. Ignoring him meant the talismans rotting unsold at her stall would wound that same pride.
Watching Baekri-wan thrash through the conflict, Han Yuhyeon laughed inwardly. Tormenting a senior cultivator this thoroughly was a recipe for future trouble, so he still needed to leave her an exit.
“Still, it would be a shame to waste what I came up with. Would you hear me out? I’m begging you. It might even prove useful.”
“……Hmph. Well, if you put it like that.”
Only then did Baekri-wan’s expression ease a fraction. Being framed as the one graciously accepting his plea apparently left her pride intact.
“Fine. What is this method of yours?”
“The method is to make use of something you already have, Elder.”
“Something I have?”
Baekri-wan looked herself over left and right, then turned back to him.
“I have rather a lot of things.”
“……The Spirit Image Stone I gave you. I handed it over specifically for promotion. Why aren’t you using it?”
The sheer confidence of the answer left him briefly speechless, but he pressed on. The whole reason he had recorded that footage on the Spirit Image Stone was so she could use it for business. She had accepted the stone and then done nothing with it—enough to make him wonder if she had simply forgotten.
“Did you forget, by any chance?”
“I’m not that stupid. I know all about it.”
“Then why aren’t you using it?”
“I am using it.”
“How, exactly?”
When Han Yuhyeon pressed her, Baekri-wan fidgeted. The silence stretched until she finally confessed.
“I show it to the cultivators who come by the stall, of course. To prove that our talismans are this effective.”
The instant he heard that, Han Yuhyeon nearly clicked his tongue. They had grown fairly close, but that still would have been a neck-severing level of rudeness, so he barely held it in.
Then again, these people were cultivators of the Central Plains. How were they supposed to understand modern marketing principles? He decided to explain slowly.
“Promotion, Elder, is the act of making people who don’t know our product aware of it. If you only show it to people who already come looking, that isn’t real promotion.”
“…….”
The faintly didactic tone made Baekri-wan’s lower lip stick out by a hair—so slight he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t reached the seventh star of Qi Condensation. This damned cultivation world had far too many rules to observe. Technically you didn’t have to observe them. You just died the moment you slipped. And Han Yuhyeon did not want to die anytime soon.
“So what I wanted to propose is this. Use the spare time during the Outer Disciple Selection Tournament. Between matches, there’s always a stretch where they smooth the arena ground, right?”
He hurried to add the rest, and only then did Baekri-wan’s lip retract. She seemed to be actually listening now.
“By that point the spectators are just chatting, staring into space, or otherwise killing time. If you play the Spirit Image Stone recording from the center of the arena, they’ll have no choice but to watch.”
“Hmm. But this is a Baekun-pa event. Didn’t you yourself say the Baek Talismans are separate from the sect? You’d need Baekun-pa’s permission.”
“Yes, that’s right. But you’re an Elder of Baekun-pa, aren’t you? You can manage that much. I hear the other Elders go so far as to rig the tournament brackets.”
“Don’t lump me in with those bastards. Do you think I would do something that disgraceful?”
Baekri-wan frowned, clearly offended. Sigh. He had thought this senior was the cool, unflappable type, but she was pickier than expected—stubborn in the strangest places.
“It’s completely different. Rigging a bracket is cheating—tampering with something already set. This is a legitimate request for cooperation. Floating a talisman promo during dead time doesn’t inconvenience the spectators. If anything, they’ll be glad to have something to watch.”
“……Hmm.”
“There’s nothing disgraceful about it. It isn’t overstepping your authority, either. You propose it, and if it doesn’t go through, you drop it.”
“If it’s legitimate cooperation, shouldn’t I be paying a price for it?”
“If that would put your mind at ease, by all means. Though I don’t see why you’d have to.”
Han Yuhyeon found himself staring at Baekri-wan as if she were some rare specimen. In a cultivation world where people would do anything for their goals, she was a vanishingly uncommon type—someone who seemed to value the means more than the ends.
“Then I’ll pay the price.”
“Then do that. You can go discuss it with the Sect Master right away.”
“……About that.”
Baekri-wan suddenly turned to gaze at a distant mountain. She was hesitating again.
“Is something still bothering you?”
“I’ve never actually made a request like that before. I’d be the one who has to go ask, after all. The decision rests with the Sect Master.”
“True. But he’ll almost certainly approve it.”
There was no way the Sect Master didn’t know the other Elders were rigging brackets. And given how he usually fretted around Baekri-wan, refusing her seemed unlikely.
“It’s just… awkward. If I got rejected, it would leave a serious dent in my pride.”
As Baekri-wan scratched her cheek and kept staring at the far mountain, Han Yuhyeon completely revised his assessment of her. Not simply cool—her pride was ridiculously, ferociously strong.
“Then use someone else. You’ve got plenty of Talisman Workshop disciples.”
“Ah. That would work. That should be fine.”
Han Yuhyeon let out a soft sigh as he said it, and Baekri-wan clapped her hands. She immediately sent a nearby Talisman Workshop disciple to the Sect Master.
And just as Han Yuhyeon expected, starting the very next day, during the breaks between matches, the Spirit Image Stone recording he had made began playing in the center of the arena. The Sect Master had even taken the trouble to arrange screens so it was visible from every side. From the looks of it, he hadn’t demanded anything in return. It had been that easy.
Han Yuhyeon figured that single video would at least triple Baek Talisman traffic. Every time he walked past, the stall had been empty. And from personal experience, Baekri-wan’s talismans were genuinely excellent—cultivators wouldn’t be able to resist.
Anyway, that was that. What Han Yuhyeon needed to focus on was not Baekri-wan’s talisman sales. It would be nice if they went well, of course, but something far more important was right in front of him.
“Outer disciple of Baekun-pa. Seong Do-won.”
That cultivator standing right there, shamelessly introducing himself under a false name. If Baekun-pa had an outer disciple at the ninth star of Qi Condensation, Han Yuhyeon would have known about it. The man was simply impersonating one.
“Outer disciple of Baekun-pa. Han Yuhyeon.”
At least a ninth-star Qi Condensation cultivator, from the looks of him. He had no hard evidence, but Han Yuhyeon was certain this meeting was no coincidence.
This world ran on ruthless cause and effect. Even things that seemed incomprehensible at first glance eventually revealed their inevitability with time.
Mun Il-pyeong, serving as referee just as he had yesterday, looked left and right, then blew a sharp whistle.
The cultivator posing as Seong Do-won flared his eyes and charged straight in. He was even shattering the unspoken rule that a ninth-star should yield the first move to a seventh-star. Then again, a man who had already hidden his name was hardly going to honor something like that.
“Hup!”
Having expected the attack, Han Yuhyeon was already moving before the cultivator even started. Against someone two full stars above him—especially one from a prestigious lineage—dodging after you saw the strike was already too late.
Even though he had thought he dodged early, a hand-blade packed with spiritual force still skimmed right past the bridge of his nose. The attack carried clear killing intent. Not rage or hatred—just dry, flavorless murderous will.
So meeting him like this really wasn’t chance. The man in front of him had taken a contract to kill Han Yuhyeon, and someone had even rigged the brackets so the two of them would meet in the second round.
Once he was dead, nothing else mattered. There was no way this assassin was going to care about some sect rule forbidding deliberate kills in the Outer Disciple Selection Tournament.
“Even so, trying this hard to kill a fellow disciple is a bit much, isn’t it?”
“You’re awfully slow. As if Baekun-pa has a ninth-star outer disciple. Of course he entered through foul means.”
Once things had gone this far, even the densest spectators finally grasped the truth. The opponent was being that blatant about his killing techniques.
“Referee! There’s foul play in this match!”
“Stop it!”
A few spectators shouted at Mun Il-pyeong, the referee. Han Yuhyeon felt a flicker of emotion. People with no connection to him were raising their voices on his behalf. Just as Baekri-wan had said, even in a trash world like this, some decent people still existed.
But Mun Il-pyeong didn’t even glance toward the voices. That was when Han Yuhyeon understood. The client was Mun Il-pyeong.
It wasn’t a hard puzzle. Someone who could rig the brackets and who hated Han Yuhyeon enough to send a killer—there was really only one person who came to mind. In a situation like this, even if Han Yuhyeon shouted his surrender, the man would shamelessly pretend not to hear.
“Damn it! I put spirit stones on that guy!”
“Hurry up and stop them!”
“…….”
Of course. Han Yuhyeon withdrew his expectations of cultivators once again. They weren’t intervening out of justice or principle—they had spirit stones on the line. The funny part was that watching such trashy behavior actually made him feel familiar and reassured.
So Han Yuhyeon decided to give a gift to the cultivators who had put him at ease—namely, the ones who had bet spirit stones on him. This was how you settled debts, righteous cultivator style.
Boom!
The assassin’s palm strike finally slammed hard into Han Yuhyeon’s shoulder. It was powerful enough that the spectators watching from behind him felt the pressure wave.
A thread of relief entered the assassin’s eyes—he had been growing anxious as every attack missed.
But that relief quickly twisted into something else. Somehow, Han Yuhyeon, a mere seventh-star Qi Condensation cultivator, had taken the blow without so much as a sway.
“Not bad. That one was worth taking.”
A voice that made the assassin doubt his own ears came from right in front of him. At the same time, Han Yuhyeon’s other hand clamped down on the assassin’s wrist.