The Eve of the Contest
The members of the Anhui Mo Clan unpacked their belongings at a new inn—an establishment far more lavish than their previous accommodations. Having rented an entire detached annex for themselves, they were finally able to unwind in long-overdue comfort.
"Now this actually feels like rest."
"Staying in that cheap dive was absolute torture."
The previous inn, a place ordinary commoners could not even dream of affording, was dismissed as a "cheap dive" without a second thought.
"Having to share a roof with filthy rabble, not to mention eating our meals right beside them..."
"I lost count of how many times I wanted to slaughter the lot of them."
Vile words that laid their character bare. Yet neither the speaker nor the listeners saw anything wrong with it.
"You all worked hard," Mo Seok-heon said.
"Still, to think the Namgung scum actually frequent such a bottom-tier dump."
"Doesn't that just prove their level?"
"Weren't they groveling beneath our feet until recently anyway?"
"Even so, staying at that hovel served its purpose. The Namgung fools fell right into our trap."
"I was honestly worried they might arrive too late."
"Those innkeepers ought to count their lucky stars. If the Namgung bastards had taken any longer, we wouldn't have stopped at beating just one waiter."
"We would've pounded a dozen of them into bloody paste."
"Might've even killed a few."
They chuckled among themselves. Mo Seok-heon watched them with a look of warm approval. Soon, however, his voice turned stern.
"Still, do not lower your guard just yet. The final match remains."
In an instant, their thuggish demeanor vanished, replaced by the sharp, focused aura of true martial artists—a stark reminder that skill in martial arts and moral character were by no means synonymous.
"So, how was he? What was that Namgung Yun's skill like?" Mo Seok-heon asked the three who had been knocked cold.
Their faces twisted in immediate grimaces. No matter how much they lagged behind Namgung Yun, having the daylights beaten out of them until they passed out was hardly a pleasant memory—especially given how overwhelmingly one-sided it had been.
"We apologize, but we cannot say for certain. We lost consciousness before we could even gauge his martial art."
Mo Seok-heon frowned. He had not expected them to defeat Namgung Yun, but to think they had been dismantled so thoroughly. At his darkening expression, the trio hurriedly scrambled for excuses.
"It was a sudden ambush! We couldn't do anything!"
"We thought he would at least demand to know what was happening, but he threw punches without a word!"
"How could we have anticipated that someone parading around as a champion of righteousness and chivalry would act like such a crude, savage brute?!"
Finding their excuses somewhat plausible, Mo Seok-heon's expression relaxed slightly, allowing the trio to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Mo Unseon, who had accompanied Mo Seok-heon and was absent during the tavern brawl, spoke up in their defense.
"Word has it that Namgung Yun has already stepped into the First-rate realm. Naturally, it would have been difficult for them to handle him. All the more so if caught in an ambush."
"Mmm. True enough."
"They are talented youths of our clan. They will surely deliver splendid results in the upcoming match."
Mo Unseon then turned his gaze toward the trio.
To an outside observer, it might have appeared to be a warm scene of a senior encouraging his juniors. Yet under that gaze, the trio could only swallow dryly in sheer dread. The light in Mo Unseon's eyes was as cold and predatory as a viper's.
"O-of course!"
"Unseon is right!"
"We will not disappoint you again!"
"See for yourself, Elder. Are these not the pillars of our Anhui Mo Clan? Their spirit is truly magnificent."
It was a bizarre sight. Mo Unseon was not much older than the trio; in fact, Mo Un-su was older than him. Yet none of them dared show even a flicker of discontent at being treated like errant children.
In the Anhui Mo Clan, which lived by the rule that the weak are meat for the strong, the powerful reigned supreme above all else. Furthermore, Mo Unseon was the clan's foremost rising star, shouldering all their hopes and expectations. While the trio were considered promising talents in their own right, they could not hold a candle to him.
Even so, their treatment bordered on harsh.
For the sake of the plan, they had deliberately picked a fight with Namgung Yun, a man vastly stronger than themselves. Though the backing of the Mo Clan made death or permanent crippling unlikely, provoking a member of their mortal rivals, the Namgung Clan, carried genuine risk. A slip of the hand could have easily spelled a tragic end.
Moreover, even if Namgung Yun had controlled his force to merely knock them out without inflicting lasting internal damage, they were still expected to enter a formal martial duel immediately after being beaten for the clan's sake.
Yet this was the only reward they received.
"Indeed, Unseon, you speak the truth." Mo Seok-heon laughed boisterously in agreement, perfectly capturing both Mo Unseon's unassailable status and the trio's expendable reality. It went beyond the survival of the fittest; it was the twisted ethos of the Anhui Mo Clan laid bare.
"Even if your displeasure lingers, please bear with it a little longer," Mo Unseon said smoothly. "I need only beat this Namgung Yun into the dirt. In fact, once word spreads that a warrior of such crude caliber ambushed someone beneath his rank, he will be stripped of that laughable title of Little Chivalrous Hero."
"Hahaha! Well said! Who else but you could make the name of our Anhui Mo Clan resound across the realm?"
Mo Seok-heon's demeanor harbored not the slightest consideration of defeat.
"You are the one who will inherit the title of Bungcheon. Starting that legacy by crushing the scion of Namgung is a fine beginning."
"And that journey shall end only when the Namgung Clan is brought entirely to its knees."
"Khahaha! Exactly! Splendidly said!"
Just picturing the realization of their long-cherished ambition—to shatter the sky that was the Namgung Clan—filled Mo Seok-heon with boundless glee.
Mo Unseon smiled alongside him, his thoughts drifting back to the attitude Namgung Yun had displayed not long ago.
Arrogant bastard.
What was it he had said? That Respect for the Strong and the law of the jungle were different? That letting the strong devour the weak prevents true masters from emerging?
One only becomes a true master by overcoming that slaughterhouse in the first place.
To go around playing the righteous vigilante in this day and age was insane enough, but the boy had turned out to be far more unhinged than expected. Not that it mattered.
Once he's licking the dirt off the sparring grounds, he won't be spouting such bizarre delusions ever again.
Recalling the contorted expressions of despair and agony from past opponents broken before him, Mo Unseon waited for that moment with eager anticipation.
The incident involving the Anhui Mo Clan spread like wildfire through the Namgung Clan. Given that every clan member was already on high alert regarding the Mo Clan's visit, the rumor traveled at breakneck speed.
Once again, Namgung Yun found himself at the center of the commotion, but the reaction this time was vastly different. While Yun's shifting reputation played a part, the primary reason was the opponent: the Anhui Mo Clan.
As if all their past slander against Yun had never occurred, the clan members rallied behind him in full force.
"Well done! Yun did splendidly!"
"They said he'd changed lately, and now he's truly pulled off something great!"
"Naturally! Humble as that waiter might be, he works within Namgung territory! For those Mo curs to run wild and cause a ruckus? Of course we had to teach them a lesson!"
"They say he rushed over in a single breath and knocked them out in the blink of an eye."
"Ah, that washes away years of bitterness!"
Yet, feeling vindicated was one thing; the upcoming match was another.
"We should take this chance to break those Mo scoundrels once and for all!"
"...Will it really be that easy, though?"
"......"
In the eyes of the realm, the Namgung Clan and the Anhui Mo Clan were evenly matched. But that balance existed only because Namgung Jeongcheon, an absolute powerhouse, had emerged. Prior to his rise, the Namgung Clan had undeniably lagged behind the Mo Clan.
Could the Namgung Clan truly claim victory in this martial contest?
"Still, our youths have shown remarkable promise of late."
"In and Geol are great talents, and above all, we have Yun."
"We can certainly win."
Despite their bold words, an inevitable undercurrent of anxiety lingered in their hearts.
The schedule for the martial contest was established swiftly. Eight combatants in total: the six individuals directly involved in the tavern altercation, plus one additional participant chosen from each clan. Consequently, all four Mo Clan juniors aside from Mo Seok-heon were slated to fight.
"They came fully prepared."
"So that was their scheme when they crawled all the way here."
By now, every member of the Namgung Clan had grasped the true intentions behind the Mo Clan's visit. Normally, duels meant to determine an outright victor were fought in odd numbers. An even number meant that determining an overall winner between the clans was not their primary objective.
"Hmph. Petty tricks only invite ruin."
"If they lose here, their prestige will plummet into the gutter."
Yet despite putting on a brave front, worry remained inescapable.
If they came prepared, they wouldn't have brought ordinary disciples. Can we really win?
With the date set and the rosters locked, there was nothing ordinary clan members could do except pray that their representatives would perform well.
Meanwhile, the recipients of all those expectations and anxieties—Namgung Yun, Namgung Geol, and Namgung Yeon—were gathered at Yun's private training ground as usual.
"Hyung-nim, is it really all right for us to be doing this?" Swinging his sword vigorously, Namgung Geol stole hesitant glances at Yun before asking.
"Doing what?"
"Well... we have that martial match coming up, don't we?"
"And?"
"Shouldn't we be doing some kind of preparation?"
At that, Namgung Yun's expression soured.
"...Did you really have to look at me like that?"
"What else should I look like when staring at a fool?"
"Did I say something so absurd?"
"If you need special, last-minute training just because a match is around the corner, that only proves your training up until now was complete garbage."
There was no secret method to dramatically skyrocket one's martial attainment in a short span. If such a trick existed, why save it for the eve of a duel? One would have used it long ago to break through.
"There's a reason the clan merely tossed us a schedule and left us alone."
The clan elders understood as well: rather than haphazardly attempting strange regimens to force an increase in skill, maintaining one's regular routine to preserve peak condition was far wiser.
It was a thoroughly sound explanation. Yet instead of nodding, Namgung Geol pointed a finger toward the corner.
"Then why is that guy over there doing different training?"
In a quiet corner of the training grounds, Namgung Yeon was seated cross-legged, deep in meditation.
"I just told you, didn't I? If someone needs special training right now, it means their past training was wrong."
"Ah."
Only then did Namgung Geol recall the harsh evaluation Namgung Yun had given Yeon previously.
"I don't know about you, but that fellow will have a hard time winning his match."
When Yun had beaten the Mo trio, he had taken their measure. Even the weakest among them hovered near the pinnacle of the Third-rate realm. They were distinctly a cut above Namgung Yeon.
"Does that mean this special training will allow him to win?"
"Not a chance."
Even within the same cultivation realm, minor discrepancies in skill existed. If such gaps could be bridged by a few days of training, they wouldn't be called gaps in the first place.
"Though he won't lose easily, either."
With that, the day of the martial contest arrived for Namgung Yun and his companions.