Chapter 59: The Fall of Plum Blossom Dragon (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 59: The Fall of Plum Blossom Dragon (2)
‘Genius.’
It was a term that had become almost commonplace in this Generation of Shooting Stars.
The word was self-explanatory. A genius was someone who far surpassed their peers in every conceivable way. They were the ones who could pick up a sword and shatter every barrier on their path to martial excellence with effortless grace.
There had never been an era without them.
The Three Venerables of their time were geniuses. The Seven Iron and Three Fists, ten masters revered across the land, were no less.
A genius’s talent was like a light that could not be hidden. Even if they sought obscurity, the world would recognize their brilliance in the slightest movement, the most casual gesture. This was an immutable truth.
And now, we had the Five Dragons and Three Phoenixes. These young prodigies were the stars of our generation, each worthy of the title.
They were flawless from birth.
This isn’t to say they didn’t train hard. Rather, their efforts yielded results far beyond what any ordinary person could achieve.
I saw all the hallmarks of a genius in the Sword Dragon standing before me. He was the youngest-ever Plum Blossom Swordsman, the greatest prodigy the Mount Hua Sect had produced in living memory. The sheer weight of those titles was staggering.
To become a Plum Blossom Swordsman required a prodigious natural talent honed to a razor’s edge. It meant one had mastered the Plum Blossom Qi, could make their sword bloom with ethereal flowers, and had truly awakened the core art of Mount Hua.
And Yung Pung, not yet twenty years old and still a third-generation disciple, had already reached that pinnacle. His talent was monstrous.
And yet, that same Yung Pung…
—Thud!
…was being forced back by a boy even younger than him.
“Ughhhh!”
Shinhyun could scarcely believe his eyes. The oppressive heat radiating from the boy made the air difficult to breathe. He watched, wide-eyed, as Yung Pung’s beautiful plum blossoms were swallowed and incinerated by the raging inferno the boy conjured.
This wasn’t a contest of refined technique or clever positioning. This was a raw, overwhelming difference in power.
…How can a child possess such strength?
Gu Yangcheon of the Gu Clan. He was not yet famous, held no grand title. Shinhyun knew of the Gu Clan—it was the family of the legendary Tiger Warrior, and home to the Sword Phoenix, hailed as the greatest genius of this generation. It was also the clan of his own martial sister. So he knew a thing or two.
He had expected the boy to be skilled, given his lineage. Perhaps he was a son who hadn’t lived up to his father’s reputation, but Shinhyun hadn’t sensed any weakness when he first saw Gu Yangcheon.
…But this is beyond anything I imagined.
Flame arts were notoriously volatile and difficult to control. Their destructive power was so immense that users often risked being consumed by their own qi. The chaotic energy took a severe toll on the body. While explosively powerful, mastering these arts was a arduous, self-destructive path.
But the boy before him… Cold sweat dripped from Shinhyun’s chin. The sheer volume of qi he emitted was pressure enough, but the fact that he wielded such destructive force with perfect control, without causing collateral damage…
It meant his command over the Flame Arts was absolute.
Yung Pung struggled to create distance, but Gu Yangcheon gave him no quarter. In a duel, distance was everything, especially between a swordsman and a brawler. The fist fighter closes in; the sword fighter creates space. Gu Yangcheon understood this principle intimately and never let Yung Pung establish his range.
Clenching his teeth, Yung Pung reversed his strategy. Instead of retreating, he poured qi into his feet and surged forward. Even in desperation, his movements retained a core elegance. His strikes were precise, heavy, swift, and accurate.
The sword arts of Mount Hua were notoriously complex, their movements intricate. It typically took years to master them. Yung Pung had learned them in a fraction of the time. That was the day the sect acknowledged him as its foremost genius.
His sword was light and sharp, and with every motion, a phantom plum blossom bloomed upon the ground where he trod.
The Domain of Plum Blossoms.
This was the benchmark, the standard a Mount Hua disciple had to meet to be recognized as a true Plum Blossom Swordsman. It was the symbol of their mastery.
Shinhyun nodded as the domain manifested. It had seemed like Yung Pung was being overwhelmed, but now he was finding his footing, fighting back. His sword weaved through the air, creating countless images of plum flowers that began to press against the raging flames.
The Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique, the quintessential art of Mount Hua, was being displayed in all its beauty through Yung Pung’s blade. His movements were elegant, his sword qi sharp, the blossoms blooming in the wake of his strikes.
As expected. To defeat the Sword Dragon is—
“Uoughh!!”
Huh…?!
Shinhyun’s eyes widened at the pained grunt that escaped Yung Pung’s lips. For a split second, he thought he saw Gu Yangcheon’s fist slam into Yung Pung’s ribs. He tried to push more qi into his eyes to see clearer, but the intense flames distorted the air, making it impossible. The fact that he, a second-generation disciple of Mount Hua, was struggling to peer through the fire of a mere boy…
…Just how dense is his qi?
He had initially thought the flames were being suppressed by the blooming plum blossoms, but he now realized his mistake. The flames weren’t being pushed back; they were being concentrated. The area of effect had shrunk, but the power within had become far denser, more potent. The phantom blossoms were now beginning to smolder and burn away.
Then, something flew out from the dome of fire. It was Yung Pung’s wooden sword.
—Thwack!
“Ugh!”
A moment later, Yung Pung himself was hurled from the flames, the sound of a small explosion marking his exit. He tumbled across the ground before coming to a stop, groaning and unable to rise.
—Whoosh!
The flames that had covered the area receded, swirling around the now-visible figure of Gu Yangcheon. Steam rose from his body in the cool air. The plum blossoms that tried to bloom near him were instantly vaporized by the residual heat. It was a stark illustration: a delicate flower stood no chance against an all-consuming fire.
Yung Pung’s blossoms never had a chance to fully bloom before they were turned to ash.
As Yung Pung lay groaning, his gaze fixed on Gu Yangcheon’s blazing figure, his face was a canvas of shock, fear, and dawning doubt.
“Tsk.”
A click of the tongue broke the silence. Yung Pung, his eyes shaking, couldn’t bear to look anymore and turned his face away.
Shinhyun, confused by his junior’s reaction, looked back at Gu Yangcheon for an answer. And then he understood.
In Gu Yangcheon’s eyes, as he looked down at Yung Pung, was a look of profound disappointment. It was unmistakable.
* * *
Geniuses had many strengths, but they also possessed inherent weaknesses. No matter how talented, they eventually faced a wall they couldn’t surmount. And because they were used to overcoming every obstacle with ease, when they finally met a true, immovable barrier, their first instinct was often to simply… give up.
Yung Pung was undeniably a genius. I knew that better than anyone, having witnessed his heights in my past life. But he had ultimately failed to break through his wall.
In terms of raw talent, he was on par with Gu Huibi, perhaps even her superior. And that remained true in this life as well.
Not just anyone could become a Plum Blossom Swordsman. It was a level achieved only through relentless training and enlightenment, marking one as, at the very least, a first-rate martial artist. To reach that rank before the age of twenty… it was natural for him to be confident.
[It’s funnier because it’s coming from you.]
I was an exception, of course, bolstered by miracles—including the mystery of my regression. Not that Elder Shin or anyone else knew that.
Geniuses were invariably full of themselves. Gu Jeolyub, Namgung Cheonjun, even Gu Huibi… they were fundamentally different from ordinary people, superior in nearly every way, and that bred a deep-seated pride. But that pride was also their greatest poison.
Yung Pung himself wasn’t a bad person. He was respectful and more grounded than most prodigies. His youth made him emotional, but that could mellow with age. Yet, even he was intoxicated by his own talent. And because of that, when he eventually hit a wall he couldn’t overcome… he chose to surrender. That was what happened before.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice forceful.
Yung Pung’s shoulders flinched.
“Why aren’t you picking up your sword?”
I glanced at the wooden sword lying on the ground. He could make plum blossoms bloom, yes, but the blossoms were hollow, lacking density. It was a sign that his mastery was still new.
[…What a monster.]
That was likely the main reason for his defeat.
[You say it like it’s easy. You think you can break through an opening and attack with a sword that weak?]
It wasn’t easy. It required a complete absence of fear or hesitation, a state of mind born only from experience—the kind gained on a battlefield where you had to fight your way through endless opponents and attacks.
I walked slowly toward Yung Pung. His eyes still held disbelief at the outcome of our duel.
Why do geniuses always get that same look in their eyes when I beat them?
“You were so insistent on this duel… I had high expectations,” I said. “But I’m disappointed, Young Master Yung Pung.”
…High expectations, my ass.
I felt sick spouting such obvious lies.
The way to shatter someone’s pride is simple. If they can’t overcome it themselves, someone else must break it for them. Once they realize there will always be someone greater, the lesson is learned. Of course, the process involves despair. They must then choose: to wallow in it, to ignore it and cling to their wounded pride… or to grit their teeth and rise again.
I would have preferred if Namgung Bi-ah had been the one to fight him. But since she’d sulked and refused…
[It’s true you didn’t have to be the one to fight him.]
Why say that now? You were the one egging me on.
[You volunteered because of that guilt you carry toward Mount Hua. I’m still curious about the source of that.]
I thought you said you weren’t going to ask about that.
[…You really are a piece of work, you know that?]*
Namgung Cheonjun was the type to live and die by his arrogance. But Yung Pung was different. Even though he’d been raised as Mount Hua’s genius, he wasn’t entirely spoiled.
Yung Pung struggled to his feet. He picked up his wooden sword. Then, limping, he slowly brought his hands together in a formal gesture.
It was a sign of defeat.
“I lost…”
Unlike others, he offered no excuses. His admission of defeat was quiet, pitiful even. The kid was honest, I’d give him that.
I considered saying more, but he seemed too shaken for words. I returned the gesture and turned to leave.
This was enough.
[Maybe it’s the way you look, but that kinda suits you.]
You do realize you’re talking shit, right, Elder Shin?
[Of course I am, you little brat. You thought that was a compliment?]
…
I didn’t know how Yung Pung would process this, but I had to admit, it felt refreshing to have a proper duel after so long.
They would handle the cleanup. I was just going to head back and get some sleep… or so I thought.
Namgung Bi-ah stepped in front of me, blocked my path. She looked me up and down for a moment before speaking.
“Now,” she said. “Do it with me.”
…Do what, you lunatic?