Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: The Virtue of Transactions (6)
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The Grand Elder of the Ten Sword Sect, Go Cheok, grabbed Hwang Gyu's sleeve.
"Sect Leader, calm down."
His low voice brimmed with urgency.
Flutter!
Hwang Gyu shook off Go Cheok's hand and strode forward, radiating thick killing intent.
'Damn...!'
He was endlessly calm until the moment he exploded, at which point he lost all sense of friend or foe.
Go Cheok knew that trait of his sect leader better than anyone. He respected how the man, fully aware of his own nature, constantly strove to remain rational.
But today, his sect leader had lost that cool-headedness.
'It can't be helped.'
Go Cheok shot an anxious glance at Murong Bi.
'What the hell is that bastard relying on?'
There was no way Murong Bi had truly mastered demonic arts. Practitioners of demonic arts had a fundamentally different aura. Go Cheok had seen a few himself back in his younger days.
And yet, the man was boldly provoking the sect leader?
'Does he have some ace up his sleeve?!'
He had no idea what it might be, but caution never hurt.
Go Cheok took three or four steps back and addressed the White Dragon Squad Leader.
"Just in case something unexpected happens..."
That was when it came.
"No matter who wins or loses, it's a one-on-one duel. You're not planning to swarm the victor and give him a cowardly beating, are you?"
Go Cheok had no choice but to concede the point. Murong Bi had mastered a demonic art that worked even on the world's greatest warriors.
The demonic art's name was Provocation.
"Cut the dogshit and get out here!"
The crowd shrank back at Hwang Gyu's booming roar.
Go Cheok felt a surge of anxiety.
'This isn't good.'
He didn't think his sect leader would lose, but every move in front of the crowd came off too brutish.
Until moments ago, they could chalk it up to righteous anger over the injustice. But now? It was different.
Even his speech sounded tainted by that Murong Bi bastard. He'd tossed aside the dignity befitting the lord of the esteemed Ten Sword Sect.
"Sect Leader, calm down."
His quiet mutter scattered uselessly on the wind.
Murong Bi scratched his head with the tip of his staff and spoke up.
"Even if I beat you, your White Dragon Squad—or White Snake Squad, whatever—won't come after me for revenge, right?"
"Shut your trap and step forward!"
"Huh? Not answering again?"
Murong Bi shrugged at the crowd.
"Too scared to fight, you think?"
The onlookers stole glances at Hwang Gyu.
Hwang Gyu, on the verge of another outburst, instead drew a deep breath.
'Endure.'
One more burst of anger, and he felt like reason itself would vanish.
Go Cheok clenched his fist without realizing it.
'Perfect!'
A deep breath meant he'd started thinking things through.
That was all they needed. In fact, it was even better. It showed he could maintain his fury while reasoning—a balance of emotion and intellect.
"You want a one-on-one duel? Fine. I'll play by your rules."
Truth be told, it was exactly what I wanted.
"But know this. This fight is on you. Lose your life, lose a limb—no whining about fairness after."
"That enough for you?"
"What else?!"
Anger seeped back into his voice.
Murong Bi lightly tapped Hwang Ji-hwa's head with his staff.
"How often do you get to see the Ten Sword Sect Leader fight up close? A match this entertaining needs a prize."
"...Get that stick away from Ji-hwa's head."
"Not a fan of your daughter as the prize?"
"If you die, I can take her anyway."
"And if I win?"
"What?"
"If I win, what do you give me?"
"You lunatic! Give you what?!"
Murong Bi's expression hardened.
"Can you believe this asshole? Trying to come out ahead even now?"
Hwang Gyu's face drained of color.
The snide remarks, the sudden scowl, the cursing—it ignited a rage far beyond anything before.
"No prize from you? Fine. I'll name my own stakes."
Murong Bi pointed his staff at Go Cheok.
"Grand Elder."
"...?"
"If you die or lose, the Grand Elder takes his own life too."
"What?!"
"And one more thing."
Murong Bi tossed the red ledger over his shoulder.
Without looking, it slotted perfectly into Murong Suhyang's hand.
"That ledger's on the table too. Win, and I take your daughter with it. Your bet?"
"...Insane."
"Makes sense. A real penny-pincher like you hates risking anything. Here, I'll stake it for you."
Murong Bi's eyes sharpened.
"The Ten Sword Sect's plaque."
"...?!"
"Lose, and the Ten Sword Sect disbands. Agreed?"
Shing!
Hwang Gyu drew his sword and advanced with heavy steps.
"Deal. I'll stake it all. Everything. Now shut up and come at me."
Only then did Murong Bi smile.
"A fight truly shines when everything's on the line. You get the virtue of a deal."
At that moment, Murong Suhyang spoke up.
"Hey."
"Hm?"
"You confident?"
Her voice trembled despite herself.
"Why? Worried?"
"If you screw up, the main house goes down too, you moron."
"Don't worry."
Murong Bi turned back with a grin.
For an instant, Murong Suhyang's eyes flickered.
She recalled a smile from her brother long ago—a memory so distant she could barely place it. Back when she was little, tumbling during play and bursting into tears, he'd scooped her up.
'You'll be fine soon. No worries.'
That sturdy yet boyish face morphed into the hateful, scrawny one she despised.
And now, the loathing blanketing that scrawny face was peeling away, layer by layer.
"The main house won't crumble over one idiot like that."
Murong Bi turned and walked toward Hwang Gyu.
His gaunt frame made his robes hang loose.
But somehow, to Murong Suhyang and Jin Gwang's crew, his back seemed to swell larger by the step.
A colossal back that could fend off floods, lightning strikes, even landslides.
It was the charge of House Murong's greatest master—the Martial Alliance Leader, Bright Martial Sovereign.
Boom!
"You bastard!"
Hwang Gyu roared and kicked off the ground, eyes bulging.
'What the?!'
The instant he launched, Murong Bi was already rushing in.
Incredibly, he'd failed to read that split-second charge. It wasn't blindingly fast or explosive, yet the man closed in like drifting mist.
'Mad bastard's rushing to his death!'
He'd toy with him slow and agonizing, then slaughter him gruesomely.
Hwang Gyu grinned viciously and thrust his sword.
Whoosh!
A plain straight stab, but blindingly quick. In a flash, the tip hovered an inch from Murong Bi's shoulder.
The crowd's eyes went wide.
Swish.
The blade merely nicked Murong Bi's shoulder before slicing empty air.
'What?!'
How'd he dodge?
Before the question cleared, something sinister bore into his torso.
Thud!
"Urk!"
The staff tip spun and slammed his flank.
A sharp, buzzing pain shot through him.
'This punk?'
He couldn't pinpoint when the dodge happened or the strike landed. Flustered, Hwang Gyu leaped back at once.
Just one hit taken, but his body moved on pure instinct.
This guy was no pushover.
Rustle!
Murong Bi dropped into a low stance and closed in.
'Slow!'
Legs splayed wide, torso hunched low, slithering like a serpent.
Whatever the footwork, he wouldn't miss this time.
Hwang Gyu's sword plunged vertically.
'An arm first!'
Then.
Ting!
Hwang Gyu's eyes wavered.
'Deflected?!'
The staff tip arced up from below, smacking the blade flat.
No real power behind it, yet the downward sword veered off course.
Instinct pulling his sword back, Hwang Gyu whipped out a left palm strike—aimed square at Murong Bi's chest, razor-sharp.
But.
Crack!
"Gah!"
The circling staff nailed his chest dead center.
The far end from the blade smack flowed naturally into the chest blow. Not raw speed, but the seamless staff flow, anticipating the counter.
Whoosh!
Hwang Gyu's hand grazed Murong Bi's nose tip before recoiling.
A hair slower, and the bridge would've shattered. Murong Bi never flinched.
This was life-or-death. One lapse meant death.
Murong Bi sank fully into the fray.
Rustle rustle!
The staff lashed at the retreating Hwang Gyu.
Whoom!
'What the hell!'
Suddenly, it multiplied into five or six staffs.
The weapon count couldn't actually grow. But to Hwang Gyu, it sure looked like multiples.
Flexible wrist, shielded by internal energy.
Gripping the tip, circling forward and back—a vital-point battering technique.
'That's!'
Horror bloomed on Murong Suhyang's face.
'Red Mist Staff Technique!'
The sole staff art in the Murong arsenal.
She knew it well—she practiced it herself. Her brother was unleashing the Red Mist Staff Technique.
But leagues beyond her own version.
Clang clang clang!
Staff met true sword, ringing out in resonance.
Incredibly, Murong Bi's staff held firm, mere scratches aside. No chipping or snapping against a prized blade.
'Not the internal energy.'
The power infused wasn't overwhelming.
'Twisting micro-fine at impact—nullifying the cut outright!'
Unfathomable skill.
Before forms, wielding a six-foot staff with lifetime-mastery finesse. Like a lifelong staff devotee.
And more.
Flutter flutter!
The five or six staffs now coiled like serpents.
Head to neck, chest to flank, thigh to groin, solar plexus to jaw—endless shifts.
Each "staff" bending into deceptive feints.
'This psycho!'
Hwang Gyu stomped hard, blasting back.
Whoosh!
Distance yawned open.
Retreating from an inferior foe was humiliation.
But instinct overrode pride. No clue how to parry that flashy, erratic staffplay.
'What martial art is this?!'
Then.
'...!!'
Hwang Gyu's eyes bulged.
Something flashed inbound.
'Dagger?!'
Gem in the hilt caught sunlight, sparkling.
The very dagger he'd gifted his eldest daughter on her coming-of-age.
The one he'd given Yeonpyeong, then quietly reclaimed and pocketed.
"Urk!"
Splat!
He jerked his head aside in time, but it nicked his earlobe.
A fraction slower, the ear pierced clean. Slower still, eyeball skewered.
Chill!
Goosebumps at nearly losing an eye to his own daughter's gift.
"Where're you looking?"
The world plunged dark.
Hwang Gyu craned his head up, grinding his teeth.
Murong Bi soared in like a glider, double-gripping his staff on the descent.
'Too late. Block it.'
Time for true martial arts.
Hummm!
His sword, trailing heat-haze aura, smashed the staff.
Slice!
Clean cut this time.
Six-foot length sheared precisely to three-foot stub.
'Good... Gah!'
Drip!
Leg yanked back on reflex—saved him.
The razor-sharp stump end pierced his robes, gashing his thigh. Murong Bi had slammed the severed stub down.
A hair slower, thigh impaled.
"You mad bastard!"
Hwang Gyu looked up.
Murong Bi had ditched the stub, hand on the long saber at his waist.
Srrrring.