Chapter 715: Heavenly Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (23)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 715: Heavenly Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (23)
Cheol Jiseon fell silent for a moment after hearing my answer.
Since I’d given him a straight affirmation, I expected some kind of reaction. With that thought, I waited.
Tap, tap.
I drummed my fingertips against the table.
I wondered what Cheol Jiseon would ask. Would he ask why I did it? Or would he ask if I had a plan to break him out?
As I waited quietly, Cheol Jiseon finally spoke.
“…Was there a reason you had to go that far?”
The former. He asked about the motive rather than the plan. It was a response that perfectly revealed his character. Instead of a blunt ‘Why did you do it?’, he phrased it in a way that showed consideration for me, even in this situation.
Of course, it was a way of speaking that didn't suit me at all.
“A reason… I did it because it was necessary.”
“Necessary?”
“Yes, necessary.”
Tang Duk had to be captured by the Alliance. And it had to be done in the name of the Demonic Cult. Timing-wise, getting caught right about now was perfect. It was even better that the notoriously hot-headed Captain of the First Dragon Army was the one to make the arrest.
“Then, what was the point of sending Young Lady Nahi…?”
At Cheol Jiseon’s question, I tilted my head.
“What? Didn’t you already know when you said that?”
The other day, when I told him I had sent Nahi to Hubei, Cheol Jiseon had reacted as if I were being cruel. I assumed that reaction meant he had figured out the implications to some extent.
“It was just a guess, literally. I never thought… it would actually be like this.”
I listened closely to his words, which were laced with a heavy sense of worry. I waited for whatever was coming next.
Just then—
“Still, to do that to a comrade—”
“Haha.”
I couldn't help but burst out laughing. It seemed the guy was fundamentally misunderstanding something.
“Jiseon.”
“…Huh?”
“Who said anything about comrades?”
“…!”
Cheol Jiseon’s eyes widened at my cold tone.
“…Yangcheon…? You…”
“Don’t get it twisted. They are not my comrades.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you shouldn't get needlessly attached. Look at yourself. Getting attached and letting lingering feelings cloud your judgment only makes you weak.”
Cheol Jiseon’s eyes trembled as I continued. Watching him, I took a slow sip of my tea.
“Your goal and my goal—we are only together because our paths happen to align.”
There are very few people I can truly call comrades. Cheol Jiseon was at a level where I could consider him one. But that was the limit.
“Jiseon.”
“...”
Cheol Jiseon didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter.
“If you’re unhappy with this, you can either change the plan completely or go rescue him yourself.”
“…!”
“If you can’t do either, then keep your useless sense of justice to yourself. It’s good for nothing right now.”
The destination was clear. Even if my destination and Cheol Jiseon’s goal differed slightly, the path was similar, which was why he remained by my side.
“Just focus on what you need to see. I used him because it was necessary.”
I grabbed a handful of dried snacks and chewed them down. They went down easily, even without alcohol to wash them back.
“...”
After hearing my words, Cheol Jiseon said nothing more. I didn't know if it was because he had nothing to say or if there was simply nothing he could say.
I didn’t care.
‘It’s right to do things my way.’
Regardless of Cheol Jiseon’s intentions. Regardless of how others saw it, I had to do things my way. Only then…
‘Can I bear the responsibility alone.’
Gulp.
I finished the tea and stood up. I had heard everything I needed to, and I had a rough grasp of the news. It was time to head back.
‘The bait has been taken.’
Now, all I had to do was wait.
“I’m leaving first. You said you were going to see the Lord of the Hwangbo Clan, right?”
“Uh, yeah…”
“Alright, see you later.”
Pat, pat.
I gave Cheol Jiseon’s shoulder a light tap as I walked past. Until I had cleared the stairs, I didn’t look back to see what kind of expression he was wearing.
* * *
Two days passed.
The first round of the main tournament had concluded over those two days. Now, three days had passed since the opening. The reason for the gap was simple: it was a rest period to allow the participants to recover and reduce fatigue.
Crack.
I stretched my body lightly as I walked.
‘My internal injuries have mostly healed.’
The major, deep-seated ones remained, but the recent strain from the tournament had been mended. That was enough.
Whoosh.
I felt a breeze and turned my head slightly. It was the tail end of summer. The scent of autumn was already riding the wind. Soon, the leaves would begin to turn.
‘...’
It meant time was passing, which wasn't entirely a welcome thought.
‘Am I getting impatient?’
I swept a hand over my chest. Was I impatient? Yes, I was. How could I not be? My life was a constant struggle where I had to wipe away the sweat of anxiety every single day.
‘It’s not easy.’
Even though this was a life I had chosen for myself, the feeling of suffocation remained. I let out a dry laugh. I had to laugh, if only to keep from losing it.
“Look over there…”
“Are those…?”
Hearing the whispers, I looked ahead. The streets of Henan were still packed with people. Though only a few days had passed since the main tournament began, many changes had already occurred.
A prime example was…
“It’s the Moonlight Sword… She’s as beautiful as the rumors say.”
“How can a person look like that?”
Wi Seol-Ah, walking beside me. The number of people who recognized her had increased exponentially.
“I heard her duel was truly incredible, wasn’t it?”
“She looks younger than my daughter… Is she really a martial artist of the Fusion Realm?”
“They say the way she wields her sword is like watching the Sword Venerable in his youth.”
The aftereffects of her duel with the Heavenly Dragon still lingered. Her face had always drawn attention, but now, a profound sense of admiration was mixed in.
“It’s a shame… I wanted to see more of her.”
There were those who were genuinely disappointed by Wi Seol-Ah’s elimination.
“What can you do? Look who her opponent was. It was the Heavenly Dragon of Shaolin, after all.”
And there were those who were now deeply intimidated by the Heavenly Dragon’s prestige.
‘Tsk…’
I clicked my tongue internally. This was exactly what Shaolin had hoped for.
‘Is this a problem that arose because she tried too hard?’
The descendant of the Sword Venerable was strong. Incredibly so. But…
‘The Heavenly Dragon was stronger.’
Because of that, the outcome was even better than what Shaolin had envisioned. The Heavenly Dragon’s prestige was now soaring through the heavens. Of course it was.
‘Even I thought he was a monster.’
There was something I sometimes thought when I looked at Wi Seol-Ah or Namgung Bi-ah—that those two were like beauty given human form.
In that same sense, the Heavenly Dragon was the personification of talent.
‘It felt like talent itself had taken a human shape.’
Yung Pung or Woo Hyuk—I felt a hint of it when I saw them, but that guy was on a whole other level. He wasn't just in the Fusion Realm; he had reached the Realm of the Mind.
The martial art he used, the Light of Might—the moment I saw it, I knew.
‘The principle is similar to my Holy Spear.’
He used his mind to bind his Qi together, preventing it from scattering while enveloping his body. It was a level of difficulty that made me scoff the moment I saw it.
‘That’s why not just anyone can use it.’
How many people in Shaolin right now could actually pull that off? You had to be at least in the Fusion Realm to even attempt it, so you could probably count them on one hand. And yet, a martial artist who had just come of age was wielding it.
It was only natural that it would generate this much excitement. That’s why I wasn’t doing anything special about it.
‘It was a reasonable outcome.’
It was a different outcome from my past life. I didn't know what had changed, but the Heavenly Dragon of this era had broken through the wall and gone far beyond his previous self.
‘I thought he’d be in a similar state to Yung Pung.’
Yung Pung was a frog in a well. I had assumed the Heavenly Dragon wouldn't be much different.
‘What changed?’
How on earth did he break out of his shell?
‘Was there someone he could look up to as a goal?’
A being that would prevent him from becoming arrogant. Was there another person like that in Shaolin? The question arose, but it was something I couldn't answer.
As I walked, more whispers reached my ears.
“Next to the Moonlight Sword… isn’t that the lady from the Tang Clan? The one called the Poison Phoenix.”
Tang Soyeol was walking on the other side of Wi Seol-Ah, and I could hear talk about her as well. For the record, just as Wi Seol-Ah had gained a title, Tang Soyeol’s title had changed.
That new title was…
“Ahem. Poison Phoenix? You’re talking about old news.”
“That’s right. She’s not the Poison Phoenix anymore…”
“She’s the Poison Fist.”
Grind.
At those words, I heard the sound of teeth grinding. It was coming from Tang Soyeol.
“…Poison Fist… Is that… Does that even make sense?”
She was scowling, clearly displeased. But with her soft, kind-looking features, she didn't look very threatening.
“Seol-Ah gets to be the Moonlight Sword… they gave her something pretty. But why me…!”
“Anything with ‘poison’ in it is usually not pretty,” I remarked.
“Exactly!” Tang Soyeol shrieked at my less-than-comforting words. “…I didn’t even use poison in the duel. Why is ‘poison’ still attached to my name…?”
“You should take that up with your family.”
No matter how much the Tang Clan had fallen, they were still the Tang Clan. They were the most famous clan in the world when it came to venom, so it was unavoidable.
“I purposely… didn’t even use poison, so why…”
“...”
Purposely?
‘…Don’t tell me she held back because she expected her title to change?’
Probably not. If she had, she at least shouldn't have shattered her opponent's sword with her bare fist.
“You smashed a blade to pieces with your fist… Did you really expect to get a ‘pretty’ title after that?”
“…No, but… I didn’t know that guy would be so weak.”
She said something terrifying with a perfectly calm expression. One of the Hundred Masters of the World had suddenly been demoted to a ‘weakling.’
‘Poison Fist…’
Her small frame and cute appearance, and the title she became known for was, of all things, Poison Fist. It really didn't suit her. It was a thought that came to me automatically.
‘But what can you do?’
It had already happened. A title, once established, rarely changes. To change it, you had to cause a major incident or show something truly remarkable.
‘Just like Wi Seol-Ah and Tang Soyeol did this time.’
Poison Fist. Tang Soyeol, the recipient of that title, was grumbling with discontent.
And Wi Seol-Ah…
“Young Master. Would you like some yakgwa? It’s delicious…!”
“…Thank you.”
She didn't seem to have much of an opinion on her new name. It was as if she didn't care at all. It was the same when she lost the duel; she didn't seem disappointed by the defeat and even looked a little brighter than usual. It was like that with Namgung Bi-ah, and it seemed Wi Seol-Ah was similar.
‘Well, she was like that in my past life too.’
In my past life, right after achieving great results in the Unorthodox Faction subjugation, Wi Seol-Ah was revealed to be the disciple and granddaughter of the Sword Venerable. She was given the name Young Sword Saint. At the time, the Young Sword Saint had frowned, looking displeased.
‘Did she say it was too heavy?’
She felt the title was too heavy for her.
‘Then, is this one light enough?’
Compared to Young Sword Saint, Moonlight Sword did feel lighter. Is that why she doesn't care?
‘…If so, that’s a relief.’
She wasn't wearing the same expression she did in my past life. That was enough.
Pat.
“Hm? Young Master?”
Without a word, I stroked Wi Seol-Ah’s hair. She looked at me as if asking why, but I ignored her and just kept petting her head.
“Hmm?”
Even though I was stroking it a bit roughly, her hair was so soft that it didn't tangle.
“…Young Master.”
A dark voice came from below. It was Tang Soyeol.
“…Why… are you only touching Seol-Ah?”
“…Hmm?”
What did she just say?
“Could it be… are you touching her because she’s the Moonlight Sword? In comparison, am I… the dull, dark, and heavy, uncle-like Poison Fist, so you won’t touch me?”
“...”
What was with this victim complex? Her words were suffocating.
“Because I’m… because I’m the Poison Fist…! Ugh!”
I stroked Tang Soyeol’s head too before it could get any worse. Only then did she quiet down. Walking while stroking both their heads with both hands, I wondered what on earth this situation had turned into.
“…Look at that… it’s the Lesser King of Hell…”
This time, I heard whispers directed at me.
“The Lesser King of Hell with the Poison Fist and the Moonlight Sword…”
“I’d only heard rumors. So it was true.”
“They said he was a lecher… He doesn’t even look that handsome. Why?”
“I heard he’s engaged to the Sword Dancer of the Namgung Clan.”
“What…? You mean the Zenith of Beauty?”
“And he’s still with other women like that…”
“He’s trash.”
“Absolute trash.”
“He’s definitely trash. Probably not even recyclable.”
…Fuck.
Just hearing them gave me a headache. Why was I the only one with rumors like that spreading?
‘I thought I did a pretty good job?’
I had a proper duel with Uncle Pungrim and even confirmed that the rumors were spreading subtly. So why was the only talk about me this kind of garbage?
‘Why the hell am I a lecher?’
If I had actually done anything, I wouldn't feel so wronged. Dammit.
“Gasp… Did he hear us?”
“Phew, what a vicious face.”
“That’s… the Lesser King of Hell who supposedly burned members of the Unorthodox Faction alive…”
“...”
I really hoped they’d find out that I didn’t just burn members of the Unorthodox Faction alive.
“Hoo…”
“Are you alright, Young Master?”
“I’m fine.”
I almost committed murder for a moment, but thankfully, I held back. I couldn't just kill people in the middle of the street. Unless it was in secret, that is.
I gritted my teeth and kept walking. Our destination was, of course, the Murim Alliance.
“All three of you have been identified. You may enter.”
We completed the identification process at the entrance and stepped inside. Inside, the crowd was smaller than on the first day.
‘Half.’
To be precise, a little less than half. Some would have given up due to severe injuries over the two days, and others would have withdrawn due to exhaustion.
‘Then will there be byes?’
It wasn't impossible. If the number was odd, it was bound to happen.
Just then—
“Oh.”
Someone was waving at us from a distance. It was the Dishonored Venerable.
“Over here.”
Next to the Dishonored Venerable was Seong Yul, who looked exhausted for some reason. Seeing that, I had to let out a laugh.
“The two of you together make for a strange picture.”
“Hmph.”
Today was the third round of the main tournament. People were filtered out in the first and second rounds, and they would be filtered out again over the next two days. After going through this a few more times, the semifinals would begin.
‘I’m going to be fighting until I’m sick of it.’
Just imagining it was exhausting. I felt like I just wanted to get it over with.
‘While the other guys are probably full of excitement.’
I thought to myself that I was a strange one—a martial artist who didn't particularly enjoy duels. As I was looking around indifferently…
“What’s a guy who isn’t even participating today doing here?”
The Dishonored Venerable, who was lightly stretching his shoulders, asked me.
That’s right. I wasn't participating today. I heard my match was scheduled for tomorrow. The reason I came anyway was…
“It’s not particularly because of you, Elder… I mean, Young Master Bi.”
Tang Soyeol and Wi Seol-Ah wanted to come out, and since Seong Yul was participating, I decided to tag along. I came to watch, among other things.
From that perspective, I looked at Seong Yul. He was fidgeting like a puppy that needed to go outside.
“Hey, why are you acting like—”
I started to speak, then noticed the direction Seong Yul was looking. Over there, a few disciples were gathered. I focused my gaze on the clothes they were wearing. White robes with an embroidered pattern resembling a gust of wind.
They were the same as the clothes worn by the Qinghai Sword, who was now dead, a few years ago. This meant…
‘Hmm.’
It meant those were the people from the Kunlun Sect, where Seong Yul originally belonged. I looked up from them toward the board where the matchups for today’s duels were written.
“...”
I quietly looked over them one by one. A few lines of text caught my eye.
Jin Imseok of the Gwangju Jin Clan vs. Jo Cheon of the Kunlun Sect.
‘So that’s why he’s acting like this.’
Jin Imseok was the fake identity I had created for Seong Yul. And Jin Imseok’s opponent was from the Kunlun Sect. Should I call this fate?
‘He said nothing happened last time, my ass.’
Seong Yul’s expression was terrible, so I had asked him if something was wrong. He had played dumb, saying nothing was wrong. But seeing his reaction now, it seemed something had indeed happened.
‘Tsk, tsk.’
If he had just told me earlier, I would have done something. Anyway, I didn't like it.
‘And… it doesn’t seem like it’s just Seong Yul’s problem?’
Seong Yul was fighting a disciple from the Kunlun Sect. I could let him handle that on his own, but what bothered me more than Seong Yul’s matchup was the text far below it.
It was the Dishonored Venerable’s opponent.
Peng Jeowoo of the Peng Clan of Hebei vs. Bi Eejin of the Bi Clan of Xi'an.
“...”
The Dishonored Venerable’s opponent was none other than the Dao King.
