Chapter 712: Heavenly Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (20)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 712: Heavenly Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (20)
“You are the hope of Shaolin.”
Those were the words Yu Yeon had heard his entire life within the walls of the temple.
From the moment he first displayed his talent until this very day, the sentiment never wavered. By the time he was old enough to understand the world, he was already being hailed as Shaolin’s greatest hope.
“A mere ten-year-old has already mastered the Hundred Steps of the Fist.”
“His cultivation level is one thing… but the sheer speed of his growth is otherworldly.”
“That child is a gift from the heavens. One day, he will surely become the Zenith Under the Heavens.”
He later learned that the elders of Shaolin had held meeting after meeting regarding his future. He didn’t know the specifics of what the high-ranking monks discussed, but the results were clear: Yu Yeon had been granted the Daehwandan Pill three times.
The Daehwandan Pill—a treasure most would be blessed to see once in a lifetime—had been granted to him thrice.
He received the first at twelve, when he performed the Hundred Steps of the Fist.
He received the second at fifteen, upon reaching the Peak Realm.
And at eighteen, he received the final pill and ascended to the Fusion Realm.
The Murim Alliance immediately assessed Yu Yeon’s status and broadcast the news across the Central Plains. A genius master of the Fusion Realm had been born at an unprecedented age. A comet had appeared to lead Shaolin into a new era.
And so, Yu Yeon’s name spread like wildfire.
The Heavenly Dragon.
Before he knew it, that was what the world called him. He became the pinnacle of the Six Dragons and Three Phoenixes, the young prodigy who defined his generation.
Upon hearing the news, Yu Yeon immediately sought out the Chief Abbot. He asked why he had been given the title of Heavenly Dragon.
In response, Chief Abbot Heavenly Eye told him that he had dreamed of an unseen future—that this title was a choice made for a destiny that needed to change.
They were words Yu Yeon couldn't truly grasp. However, he didn't argue. If it was the Chief Abbot’s will, he would follow it.
But in his heart, he felt only regret.
He remembered the stage of the Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament he had once seen from afar. What meaning was there for him, a man who had never even stood on that stage, to bear the name of the Heavenly Dragon?
Yu Yeon lamented his position. Furthermore, what meaning could a reputation built on a lie possibly have?
Yu Yeon knew his name was intertwined with a falsehood. How could he not? He had seen the truth with his own eyes.
“Gu Yangcheon of the Shanxi Gu Clan wins!”
At a past Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament, he had seen it. The one who dominated the stage with overwhelming martial might. The being who stood there, seizing victory with a lofty, indifferent air.
“Waaaaaah!!”
Watching from the distance, Yu Yeon’s eyes had burned. The cheers invaded his ears and seared themselves into his mind. That was his memory of the tournament—a scene etched into his soul.
The young Yu Yeon had watched, and a fire had ignited in his heart. The boy on the stage had a stoic expression, looking almost displeased, as if the cheers of the crowd and the victory he had earned meant nothing to him.
That sight had been a profound shock to Yu Yeon. His attitude, his demeanor… it was as if the world’s acclaim was trivial.
Why did that image haunt him so? He didn’t know. It just did.
If he hadn't slipped away from Shaolin in a fit of defiance that day, if he hadn't secretly watched the Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament, he might have lived in blissful ignorance. But he had seen it. And in that moment, he realized the truth.
He had known it from the moment they gave him the name Heavenly Dragon. Even as the smiling elders praised him as a genius and a beacon of hope, Yu Yeon knew.
He… was not the Heavenly Dragon.
He… was not a true genius.
The real one was already out in the world. Unlike Yu Yeon, who cowered uncomfortably in a gilded cage, the real dragon had already spread his wings.
So then, where are my wings?
‘Heavenly Dragon? What a joke.’
Smiling self-deprecatingly, Yu Yeon curled into himself even more. If he had wings, he probably would have plucked them out himself. What value was there in wings that someone else had attached to your back?
To Yu Yeon, there was none. It was suffocating. Stifling.
As if trying to vomit out these feelings, Yu Yeon began his small rebellions.
“You are our hope.”
“The hope of Shaolin.”
“We are so fortunate to have you.”
The words he heard a dozen times a day became daggers, stabbing into his heart. Unable to bear the pressure, he slipped away from the watchful eyes of the monks and went outside.
He was still within the borders of Henan, but even that felt like a grand escape.
It was winter. This was before he was officially dubbed the Heavenly Dragon. Snow was falling, and the air was biting. His hands were numb. He was dressed lightly, making the cold feel particularly harsh. He shivered, but he didn't mind. He could have circulated his internal energy to warm his blood, but he chose not to.
He wanted to feel the cold. At least the freezing air was better than the suffocation of the temple.
“Haa….”
He blew hot breath onto his numb palms. The warmth he created himself seeped into his skin.
Warmth I made myself.
Moved by that strange resonance, Yu Yeon rubbed his hands together. A winter as cold as frost—an age where such simple sensations felt better than his martial realm rising. That was the Yu Yeon of the past.
And that was likely why it happened.
“What are you doing here?”
During that particularly lonely stretch of his life, a chance meeting became his turning point. At the sound of the somewhat dry voice, Yu Yeon quickly covered his face with a cloth and looked up.
“…!!”
His eyes widened. It was him. The person he had seen on the stage of the Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament. The boy who was now being called the True Dragon.
He had heard they were the same age. To think he would meet him here, in a place like this. The boy was looking at him with a strange, questioning gaze.
“What are you doing out here in this weather?”
“…Ah… I….”
Yu Yeon couldn't find the words. The boy’s clothes were even thinner than his own, damp with sweat, and his expression was weary. Was it an illusion? The moment he met the boy’s gaze, the cold seemed to vanish. It was as if the temperature around them had spiked.
“Hmm.”
Seeing Yu Yeon’s silence, the boy tilted his head. “Have you eaten?”
“…”
Again, no answer. But as if the response didn't matter, something was pressed into Yu Yeon’s hand.
“If you haven’t, eat this. It’s delicious. I come all the way here just to get these,” the boy said with a grin.
Yu Yeon looked down at the warm food in his palm. It was a dumpling.
“…”
Meat. Meat had been placed in the palm of a monk forbidden from eating it. Startled, Yu Yeon tried to speak, but the boy was already walking away.
Should he call out? Yu Yeon hesitated.
“Young Master, you bought them again?”
“Yeah.”
“I told you I’d go get them for you.”
“It’s fine. I needed the walk anyway. Oh, but a strange rumor started at the inn…”
A woman appeared at the young man’s side, striking up a conversation. Seeing them together, Yu Yeon couldn't bring himself to shout. He just stared silently at the dumpling in his hand.
“…”
If there was a problem, it started then. That moment when he couldn't resist his own rebellion.
“…”
Yu Yeon looked at the half of his headband that had fallen to the floor. When had it been cut? He hadn't seen the sword approach, nor had he felt the strike land.
Focus.
The woman’s words echoed in his ears. Yu Yeon raised his head and looked straight ahead.
A woman with blonde hair and golden eyes. A beauty so striking it made his heart race. The strongest swordsman of the era. The descendant of the Sword Venerable, Wi Hyogun. The legacy of the greatest Alliance Leader in history—and one of the hurdles he had to overcome.
No, it wasn't just his hurdle.
‘The hurdle of Shaolin and the Murim Alliance.’
Yu Yeon had already guessed the Alliance’s intentions. Thinking about it brought back that familiar sense of suffocation. He wanted to run away, find an inn, and eat dumplings. That had been his habit since that winter day—whenever he felt stifled, he would escape Shaolin to eat dumplings. It was the only comfort he allowed himself.
But he couldn't do that now.
Yu Yeon calmed his breathing. He looked at the woman for three seconds, chanting a Buddhist prayer in his mind. She possessed a devilish beauty, and for a man like Yu Yeon, who had no experience with women, this was a trial in itself.
Ssk.
Instead of speaking, Yu Yeon took a stance. He extended his left hand and sank into a low, stable posture.
“Thank you.”
He offered gratitude instead of an apology.
“Thanks to you, I’ve come to my senses.”
Barely. He had just barely managed to reclaim his focus. He reminded himself why he was here.
Shhhng.
Seeing Yu Yeon’s shift in posture, Wi Seol-Ah took her own stance. In that instant, an immense pressure crashed down on Yu Yeon. It felt as if dozens of sword tips were aimed at his vitals simultaneously. It was pure, unfiltered killing intent.
Cold sweat broke out on his brow. Feeling the threat, Yu Yeon let out a low, controlled breath.
And then, he moved.
Ssk.
He threw a punch. To Wi Seol-Ah’s eyes, it looked slow. But as she watched the deliberate motion, her brow furrowed. It wasn't because the move was weak.
It was the exact opposite.
Shweek!
Wi Seol-Ah moved instantly, her body blurring in a pure evasive maneuver. It was the right choice.
Thump…
Yu Yeon’s fist struck empty air. At that moment, the weight of Mount Tai seemed to crash down where Wi Seol-Ah had just been standing.
Kuaaaaaa—!!
“...!!!”
The judge’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. A localized gale erupted from that single fist.
“The—the Hundred Steps of the Fist!” someone in the audience screamed.
“It’s Shaolin’s Hundred Steps of the Fist…!”
A single strike of overwhelming destructive power. It was Shaolin’s ultimate technique, said to return all things to nothingness with a single blow. Yu Yeon had unleashed an extreme martial art that only a handful of Shaolin’s most elite monks could master.
With just one punch, Yu Yeon proved exactly why he held his title.
“Waaaaaah—!!”
The crowd erupted. The youngest Fusion Realm master was finally showing the world the weight of his name.
“…”
The cheers were just like the ones from that day. But even hearing them, Yu Yeon remained calm. He tuned out the noise, his eyes darting with precision.
Tuk.
He felt a presence. Yu Yeon whipped his head around.
Shhhheek!!
A blade grazed his cheek. He twisted his body, using the rotational force to drive power into his legs.
Hwiririk!
The tip of his boot cut through the air.
Kooong!
Yu Yeon’s foot collided with Wi Seol-Ah’s sword, and a shockwave of internal energy exploded between them.
Kwaaaang!
The sound was deafening. The impact sent vibrations through the entire arena, reaching the audience seats. The sheer pressure sent shivers down the spines of everyone watching.
After that single exchange, Wi Seol-Ah realized she had to deflect his attacks rather than block them head-on.
‘He’s strong.’
He was far too strong.
Hwik!
She shifted her grip, letting Yu Yeon’s next strike slide harmlessly along the flat of her blade. She tried to close the distance, but—
Hwoong!
“...!”
The moment she moved, Yu Yeon’s fist was already inches from her face. She snapped her head back to dodge.
Kuaaaaang!!
The Hundred Steps of the Fist exploded just above her. The displaced air felt like it was going to peel the skin off her face. Wi Seol-Ah frowned and unleashed her own pressure.
A golden aura erupted. The pure, radiant internal energy of the Moonlight Dance Sword enveloped her. Her movements accelerated. Sword Qi coated her blade, and her hair began to glow with a faint, ethereal light.
Kkigigik!
She used her footwork to create a sliver of distance, wary of the Hundred Steps of the Fist’s deceptive range.
“Hup!”
Yu Yeon matched her, enveloping himself in his own aura.
Pushushuk!
The friction of his energy was so violent that steam hissed off his body. A brilliant yellow aura, rivaling the gold of the Moonlight Dance Sword, flared to life. Enveloped in their respective lights, the two faced off.
“…”
“…”
There was no need for words. The exchange they had just shared told them everything they needed to know.
G-g-g-g-g-g!
Their clashing Qi caused the very air to vibrate. Dust rose in a swirling vortex around them. Wi Seol-Ah’s gentle eyes had turned razor-sharp.
They stared each other down for a heartbeat.
Jureureuk.
A single bead of sweat trickled down Wi Seol-Ah’s cheek. It reached her chin and fell.
Tok.
The instant it hit the floor, they moved.
Shwik!
Kuuuuung!!
The two martial artists collided.
* * *
Kwaaaaaaa—!!!
The flow of internal energy was staggering, like a gale trapped within a typhoon. A storm of gold and yellow raged across the stage.
Kwang! Kwaaaang!
The arena shook as if struck by an earthquake. The combat was fierce, yet possessed a terrifying weight. Both fighters possessed such vast reserves of internal energy that every movement carried world-shaking impact.
“Huh… h-how….”
“That’s… that’s an absurd fight….”
“Is that really a battle between the younger generation?”
The audience was beyond mere admiration; they were paralyzed by awe. It was so intense that even the martial artists competing in the adjacent ring stopped their own matches to watch.
Flash!!
A burst of light. Wi Seol-Ah’s sword flashed dozens of times a second, looking like a constellation of falling stars. In contrast, Yu Yeon’s strikes were far less frequent.
Kooong! Kung kung!
Heavy booms echoed amidst the flashes of light. However, in terms of raw power, his strikes couldn't be measured by numbers. Every single blow shook the foundations of the arena.
The Hundred Steps of the Fist—a strike born of Buddhist enlightenment. A single thrust from Yu Yeon bore a striking resemblance to the First Form of the Heaven Destruction Art. Given that the activation and movements were so similar, perhaps…
‘The amount of internal energy required is probably similar, too.’
If there was a difference, it was that the Hundred Steps of the Fist focused on ‘shattering,’ while the Heaven Destruction Art focused on ‘tearing.’ It was a significant distinction, but the fundamental essence felt the same. High output and massive vibrations meant a staggering consumption of internal energy.
And the Heavenly Dragon was chaining those strikes together.
‘Just how deep are his reserves?’
I can do that easily, but that’s because of the various fortuitous encounters I’ve had. What the hell is this guy’s excuse? He’s using an ultimate move—something most masters would save for a finishing blow—as if it were a basic jab.
It was absurd. Was he insane?
‘Wait… is this how others feel when they watch me?’ the thought suddenly occurred to me.
Kuaaaaaaaaaa—!!!
Every time the Hundred Steps of the Fist exploded, it tore through the atmosphere. The enlightenment woven into the strike, combined with the condensed internal energy, was nothing short of admirable.
Yes—it was enough to make even me admire it.
‘Shaolin… those crazy bastards.’
What kind of monster did they create in that temple? The more I watched the battle between the Heavenly Dragon and Wi Seol-Ah, the more I could only let out a hollow laugh.
The reason was simple.
‘This is different from my past life.’
The Ghost Monk, who had been a devastating Demonic Human in my previous life… I hadn't encountered him often. I only saw him briefly before his death.
The Ghost Monk back then was certainly strong. I don't deny that. He was a martial artist so powerful that the Heavenly Venerable himself had to step in to end him.
However, I didn't think the Heavenly Dragon had been this strong during his time as a young prodigy. He must have been formidable to earn the title, regardless of Shaolin’s influence, but still…
“...What the hell is that guy?”
He shouldn't have been this powerful. And I knew exactly why.
‘How is he already using the Heart Fist…?’
The Heavenly Dragon was still imperfect, but there was no mistaking it. He had already reached the Mind’s Eye.