Chapter 701: Heavenly Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 701: Heavenly Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (2)
A massive crowd had gathered.
Though the spectators seemed packed together without a single gap, there was a clear, disciplined order to the space they occupied.
“Did you hear? They say the Dao King himself competed in the preliminaries yesterday.”
“Of course I heard. I’m just glad I wasn’t drawn into the same group…”
“I wonder what on earth happened in there.”
The Lord of the Peng Clan, a master who had reached the Fusion Realm.
Dao King Peng Jeowoo was participating in the martial arts tournament. That fact alone was enough to set the entire venue abuzz. Many were dying to know what had transpired on the first day of the Dao King’s participation, but…
“Even if we wanted to know, there’s no way to find out.”
“That’s true.”
There was simply no way for them to know.
Before entering the preliminaries, all martial artists were placed under a binding restriction by the Alliance—a vow forbidding them from speaking about their experiences within the trials. Thanks to this, the other martial artists had no way of knowing what had occurred the day before.
“What would change even if we did know?”
“At least we could prepare ourselves mentally.”
“What’s the point? With the Dao King competing, it’s obvious he’s going to win anyway.”
The head of a noble clan, one of the pillars formerly known as the Four Noble Clans, had entered the tournament. This drew a great deal of skepticism from the crowd.
“I question whether a Clan Lord should even be allowed to lead the Heavenly Dragon Army.”
“It’s strange in the first place for someone of a Clan Lord’s stature to participate.”
In a tournament meant for unaffiliated martial artists or those just beginning to make a name for themselves, what was the point of an already famous Clan Lord competing? There were certainly many who saw it that way.
However, others disagreed.
“There’s no rule saying a Clan Lord can’t participate. That’s just prejudice.”
“Exactly. Beyond being lords of their clans, are they not martial artists first?”
There was a strong sentiment that their status as martial artists superseded their titles, making their participation perfectly valid. As these opinions clashed, a heated debate inevitably sparked.
“Ha! Are you saying it would be fine if the Three Venerables participated too?”
“Why are you bringing them into this?!”
The Three Venerables—the absolute beings of the Central Plains. Would legends who looked down from the heavens even bother with such a small festival?
“To them, this is literally a children’s playground. Would they really deign to mingle with those beneath them?”
“Exactly. Why would those supreme beings get involved? Your example is utterly ridiculous.”
“What did you say!?”
The conversation, which had started as idle chatter, began to boil over with emotion. Since they were all martial artists, heated tempers could easily lead to bloodshed, but because fighting was strictly forbidden outside of the tournament matches, the situation barely remained under control.
Watching from a distance, a young man suppressed a cough that threatened to escape.
“…Hmph.”
The black-haired youth, having overheard the conversation, rubbed his weary face with an unreadable expression. His name was Bi Eejin, known to the world as the Dragon Warrior of the Bi clan.
Furthermore, he was the man once feared as the Dishonored Venerable.
“A children’s playground, they say.”
The Dishonored Venerable swallowed a laugh at the painfully accurate remark. It was true. A dirt patch where whelps who hadn’t even tasted real blood ran around—that was how he viewed this tournament.
Hmm.
No matter how he thought about it, he didn't like it. Just being in a place like this was an annoyance. A martial arts tournament… To think he would ever participate in something like this in his life.
What a mess I’m in, all because of one foolish disciple.
Back when the Dishonored Venerable was a young prodigy, tournaments like this were held occasionally, but he had never taken part. To him, fighting a duel in front of a large crowd was no different from being a circus clown. He had lived his life focused solely on perfecting his own craft. The only duels he ever fought were contests where life itself was the stake.
Win, and you live. Lose, and you die.
His life had been a repetition of such battles. That was the heart of the Dishonored Venerable. The tip of a fist must carry sincerity, and this kind of spectacle held no such weight.
That was his perspective, but…
“Tsk.”
Despite his disdain, here he was. What choice did he have?
It’s my fault for taking on such a strange brat as a disciple.
The one disciple he finally managed to take in was far from normal, so the master had no choice but to step up. Besides…
It’s surprisingly not bad.
Reluctance aside, his interest was piqued. The presence of countless martial artists and the heat generated by their collective spirit was something he hadn't felt in a long time. The Dishonored Venerable found himself enjoying the air thick with aspiration.
There are some decent ones, too.
He nodded as he observed the surrounding martial artists. ‘Decent’ didn’t refer to their current level of power, but their potential—those who showed what was commonly called promise. As this place was filled with talents gathered from all over the Central Plains, there were many who looked promising even to his discerning eyes.
And the more he looked at them, the more one thing became clear.
Still, none of them are as good as that brat.
There was no one who could measure up to his disciple. The physical perfection, the look in their eyes—it all fell short.
Tsk.
On one hand, it wasn't bad to have such a spectacular disciple. On the other hand, the reminder that only that pain-in-the-ass brat existed seemed to sour his mood. How could such a person be the one to remain? He was a means to resolve his own lingering regrets, but it was a truly strange situation.
He’s a boy with too many secrets.
He possessed much, and so he hid much. That was the kind of person his disciple was. And yet, he was a terrible liar, his face betraying him every time. What was he hiding that made him always look so weary?
He often found himself curious, but the Dishonored Venerable decided not to pry.
The only thing that matters is whether or not he can fulfill my regret.
The end of the Heaven Destruction Art. Could he break through that final wall and shatter the limit? That was the only thing the Dishonored Venerable cared about. Therefore, even if the boy was secretly using him for that purpose, he didn’t mind.
Use me all you want.
He didn’t care if his worthless reputation was thrown to the dogs. And even if he didn’t like it, he had already taught the boy too much to switch disciples now. The disciple needed a body that could receive the Heaven Destruction Art, as well as the mental fortitude to endure the agony required to master it. He also had to be young for the art to develop properly.
Young, physically exceptional, and mentally unbreakable. Where could one possibly find such a person? The Dishonored Venerable considered finding his disciple a miracle in itself.
Of course…
There is someone similar.
Mentally, he wasn’t sure, but physically, there was someone who met the conditions. The Dishonored Venerable’s gaze shifted.
The Heavenly Dragon, was it?
A young man stood in the distance, receiving the undivided attention of the crowd. The man called the hope and miracle of Shaolin. Seeing him, the Dishonored Venerable’s lips curled into a smirk.
Well raised.
He found himself slightly impressed. It was less astonishing than when he had first seen his own disciple, but to reach that level at such an age was still remarkable.
It’s like looking at my younger self.
He was reminded of his own youth—the days when he was called a mad dog, obsessed with dueling, and a monster. That young man’s appearance resembled his own from that time. The Heavenly Dragon’s trained body was like well-forged steel, and the aura he exuded was imbued with the unique brilliance of Shaolin.
However.
His eyes are dead.
The gaze he possessed was, unlike his other qualities, somehow empty. How could a young martial artist have such eyes? Did he have some sort of mental affliction? The Dishonored Venerable looked at the junior with a hint of pity.
Useless.
He would be useless as a disciple. With that assessment, the Dishonored Venerable immediately looked away. He might be a raw gem, but with eyes like that, his path was already at its end. No matter how exhausted one becomes, aspiration must burn fiercely, but this boy lacked that fire.
In fact, the one in front of him would be more useful.
The Dishonored Venerable’s gaze moved from the Heavenly Dragon to the young man facing him. His physique and realm seemed inferior to the Heavenly Dragon’s, but his eyes were alive. The plum blossom embroidery on his white uniform was unmistakable.
The lofty guardians of Shaanxi, where his old friend served as the Sect Leader.
Mount Hua.
Plum Blossom Sword Dragon, Yung Pung. He was currently facing the Heavenly Dragon, Yu Yeon.
* * *
Yu Yeon could feel the weight of the countless gazes watching him. Even so, the miracle of Shaolin remained steady, calming his breath as he looked at the person before him.
A fragrant floral scent brushed past the tip of his nose. Sensing the unfamiliar fragrance, the Heavenly Dragon looked ahead.
“It has been a while.”
A handsome man with a refreshing appearance greeted him. “Do you remember me?”
The Heavenly Dragon nodded in response to the man’s bright smile. “Of course I remember. Master Sword Dragon…”
The Sword Dragon of Mount Hua. He was called the greatest prodigy of his sect, one of the five prophesied to one day reach the level of Sword King. He was also one of the Six Dragons and Three Phoenixes, the representatives of the current generation of young prodigies.
Hearing the Heavenly Dragon’s words, the Sword Dragon smiled, looking pleased. “My, to think you’d remember me… I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Yung Pung spoke with an awkward air, and the Heavenly Dragon was about to reply when—
“Of course he’d remember… after getting beaten and rolled around like that.”
“Our junior was a bit pathetic, wasn’t he? He didn’t just roll; he ate dirt.”
“When I think about that day, I’m too embarrassed to show my face.”
The other Mount Hua disciples behind Yung Pung began to chime in excitedly. Hearing this, Yung Pung’s expression turned sour.
“…Senior Uncles…”
As Yung Pung turned to look back, the men reacted with mock surprise.
“Hey, I think the brat is glaring at us. Senior Brother, isn’t this a bit out of line?”
“The hierarchy of Mount Hua has fallen to the ground. It must have dropped when our junior was rolling in the dirt.”
“In my day, if you lost like that, you’d be too ashamed to even lift your head. Look at him, so shameless. Tsk, tsk.”
“...”
Yung Pung wiped his face, relentlessly heckled. These were his Senior Uncles—second-generation disciples of Mount Hua. The reason they were teasing him so mercilessly was simple: a friendly match with Shaolin about a year ago. Yung Pung and Yu Yeon had faced off, and the Sword Dragon had been soundly defeated.
“He didn’t just lose; he got absolutely creamed, as the kids say these days.”
“Creamed is right. He was practically kneaded, rolled, and flattened like flour dough. It was a sight to see…”
“It was so embarrassing I could barely tell people the Sword Dragon was from Mount Hua—”
“I-I wasn’t defeated that badly!” Yung Pung finally snapped, and the Mount Hua disciples burst into laughter.
What is this atmosphere?
Yu Yeon could only watch in bewilderment. He had approached to offer a polite greeting, but he felt overwhelmed by the chaotic energy of the opposing sect. Also, why on earth had Yung Pung come to greet him so warmly? What was there to be happy about when facing the opponent who had defeated him?
Is this perhaps a tactic to gain the upper hand?
As he entertained that thought, he found himself involuntarily listening to the conversation.
“It was a fair fight, and it wasn’t such a crushing defeat…”
“Uh-huh, and you lost, right?”
“...”
“In the end, you lost, right? You used the secret arts you learned and still lost, right? The plum blossoms were all shattered by the Hundred Steps of the Fist, right?”
“And then you were summoned by your master and got chewed out, right? I saw it, right?”
“…Really? Senior Shinsuk summoned Yung Pung and chewed him out?”
“Yes. I saw Yung Pung kneeling in front of Senior Shinsuk on the back mountain.”
“Oh, the shame… Yung Pung, just ascend to immortality already. Go on ahead, I’ll yield the spot to you.”
“Hahahaha!”
“…Senior Uncles… please, stop.”
Yung Pung looked miserably at the second-generation disciples, whose average age was well past their mid-thirties. Yet, they looked like they were having the time of their lives. What was so amusing about their representative losing to Shaolin? Yu Yeon couldn't comprehend it.
In the midst of the teasing, one of the disciples spoke up again. “And he still claims to be the successor to our Grand Master—”
“You crazy bastard.”
Smack!
“Gah!”
Someone smacked the head of the man who was about to speak. It was Shinhyun, the Plum Blossom Spirit Sword. He was the strongest among the second-generation disciples and one of the masters representing the current Mount Hua Sect.
“Compose yourself. How far are you planning to take this?” Shinhyun clicked his tongue. It was fine to be excited, but their carelessness had nearly caused a problem. He had almost mentioned Yung Pung’s secret, which was no small matter.
“…I apologize, Senior Brother.” The disciple, Shinjeok, realized his mistake and immediately bowed.
“Is it me you should be apologizing to? The Sect Leader is watching, of all people.”
At Shinhyun’s words, Shinjeok’s face paled. He moved hastily toward an old man standing alone behind the muscular disciples. This old man drew far more attention than even Yu Yeon or Yung Pung.
The 16th Sect Leader of Mount Hua, one of the Seven Steel and Three Fists—the Celestial Plum Blossom, Dohwa.
Shinjeok carefully approached the old man and showed his respects. “Sect Leader… I apologize. This disciple has made a mistake… Sect Leader?”
As he repeatedly apologized, Shinjeok realized that the Celestial Plum Blossom was looking elsewhere.
“S-Sect Leader…?”
He called out a few more times before the old man finally reacted.
“Ah.” Realizing he was being addressed, the Celestial Plum Blossom smiled warmly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I saw an old acquaintance after a long time.”
“An acquaintance, you say?”
The disciples’ gazes immediately turned to where he had been looking, but they couldn’t tell who among the crowd the Sect Leader was watching.
Just then, Yu Yeon approached and bowed respectfully. “…A disciple of Shaolin pays his respects to the Sect Leader.”
The other Shaolin disciples followed suit. Even as he offered his greetings, Yu Yeon was flustered. What is the Sect Leader doing here? It made sense for the disciples to compete, but why had the Sect Leader himself come all this way? He couldn't understand it, but he remained polite.
“Yes, it has been a while.” The Celestial Plum Blossom smiled benevolently. “Child of Shaolin. Your name was Yu Yeon, wasn’t it?”
“…Yes, Sect Leader. It is Yu Yeon…”
As he spoke, Yu Yeon felt a hand on his head. The Celestial Plum Blossom was stroking his hair.
“…!” Yu Yeon’s eyes widened.
“You seem to have endured much for your age. It must be difficult, no?”
“N-No… sir.”
“No, it is an age of both hardship and joy. Please, do try to build a good relationship with our children as well.”
“...”
Yu Yeon bit his lip, feeling a strange lump in his throat. “Thank you… for your words…”
Just as he was processing the Sect Leader's kindness, a loud voice pierced the air.
“Sis! I-I’m jealous of that grandpa!”
It was loud enough for everyone to turn and look.
“Young Lady Bong…! You can’t do this! The Young Master will scold you…!” Another woman tried to stop her, looking panicked.
“I want to do it too!”
“No—! Wait…!!”
“I want to touch the bald head too!!”
At that explosive declaration, the entire area fell into a deathly silence. The expressions of the Shaolin monks, in particular, hardened instantly.
Did I hear that right? Did she just say ‘bald head’…?
Everyone stood frozen in disbelief.
“Me too! I want to touch that shiny baldy!”
“…P-Please, just stay still.”
“It’s like an egg! It’s so round!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake… We’re so dead.” The woman with light green hair who had been trying to restrain her covered her face in utter despair.
A black-haired woman rushed forward like she’d been shot out of a cannon, stopping right in front of the Celestial Plum Blossom and Yu Yeon.
“Hi?”
“...” Yu Yeon was speechless. He couldn't process the absurdity of the situation.
“Nice to meet you.” The woman introduced herself with zero hesitation. “My name is Bongsun.”
She then turned her sparkling eyes toward Yu Yeon. “Hey, hey, you know. Can I touch your head too?”
“…Young Lady, what are you saying right now…” Yu Yeon stammered, glancing at the Sect Leader.
“I want to touch Oppa’s head too. I’ve never seen a bald person before!”
“…!”
At her words, Yu Yeon’s heart gave a violent thump.
Oppa…? Did she just call me Oppa?
As Yu Yeon’s eyes trembled, other martial artists rushed in to block the woman.
“Young Lady, what is the meaning of this?”
“Miss… I don’t know who you are, but to act so rudely! The heavens will be angered!”
Wanting to touch a monk's head—it was both terrifying and pitiful. Even the Mount Hua disciples, who had been teasing Yung Pung moments ago, looked on with horror.
However, Bongsun ignored them all. “No? I’ll just touch it once. I won’t ask again next time…!”
Her tone was one of desperate, heartfelt pleading. The onlookers squeezed their eyes shut, preparing for the worst. They expected Yu Yeon to explode in rage at such a blatant insult. Everyone tensed, wary that a fight was about to break out.
Finally, Yu Yeon, his expression stiff and unreadable, opened his mouth to speak to Bongsun.
“…Feel.”
As all attention focused on the Heavenly Dragon of Shaolin, he gave a rather anticlimactic answer.
“…Fe-feel free to touch it.”