Galaxy Martial Temple - Club (4)
The question hung in the air like a blade. “So only six clubs approached Cheon So-yeon purely for training purposes, without any ulterior motives?”
At her words, the club presidents averted their eyes. It seemed they were embarrassed to admit they had only wanted her for their own gain. Of course, I couldn’t know how many among those who had stepped forward truly sought her talent and skill alone. Even if they claimed they wanted no additional support, the mere fact that Cheon So-yeon had joined their club would bring them benefits in one way or another.
The first to step up had been Gorilla Number Two—rather, the Sword Club president, Cheon Jeon-il. His face looked simple and brutish, but who could say his mind didn’t turn quickly? Still, most of these sixth-graders hadn’t even graduated elementary school yet. It was likely they hadn’t grasped the implications immediately, which was why only six had come forward.
Kim Dohwa, the homeroom teacher, spoke firmly to prevent any future complaints. “In that case, only the six of you will remain. Everyone else, return to class.”
At her nod, the other teachers rose and escorted all students except the six out of the staff room. The remaining clubs were the Sword Club, Fist Club, Spear Club, Grappling Club, Saber Club, and Throwing Knife Club.
“Club membership is never mandatory. Club activities only hold meaning when they stem from the student’s own free will. If that weren’t the case, I would have forcibly removed all of you from your clubs already.”
At Kim Dohwa’s declaration, the six sixth-graders swallowed dryly.
“When I say your will is respected, it means Cheon So-yeon’s own desire to join is the most important factor.”
Cheon So-yeon had already expressed her intention to create a new club, and she had the full support of her homeroom teacher and advisor, Kim Dohwa. The fact that these seniors were still pushing their case showed they at least understood they were being unreasonable.
“However, out of consideration for Cheon So-yeon, I will give you one final opportunity.”
At the word “opportunity,” the six seniors’ eyes sparkled.
“The strongest among you will spar with Cheon So-yeon. If you lose, Cheon So-yeon and Cheon Jiwoo have agreed to join that club.”
At Kim Dohwa’s words, Gorilla Number One—rather, the Fist Club president, Cheon Haeu—asked, “T-then if more than two people defeat the junior, which club do they join?”
Kim Dohwa frowned at the question. “Didn’t I just say it? The strongest student will spar with her. Are you seriously suggesting you want to fight her in a gauntlet?”
“Ah! My mistake. I was just wondering if we’d be sparring once per day or…”
What a lack of comprehension. For all his size, he really was just an elementary schooler. Or perhaps his simple, brutish appearance was perfectly matched to his mind.
“Then should we first determine who is the strongest among us?” the slender-looking Grappling Club president asked.
Kim Dohwa nodded. “Yes. I’ll draw up the bracket right now. We’ll settle everything today, so draw your numbers.”
The numbers ran from one to six. Numbers one through four would need two wins to reach the finals, while five and six only needed one. Under Kim Dohwa’s watchful eye, the six seniors drew lots.
Jackpot. Time to watch some entertaining fights.
We moved to the sparring hall inside Cheonmu Hall.
“The sparring rules will be point-based. The first to ten points wins.”
School sparring came in several formats. Full-power bouts carried too high a risk of injury, so they were rare. The most common was the point system, where a referee assigned points for clean strikes. There was also the speed rule, similar to fencing, where striking a specific area first granted victory, and the defense rule, where you protected your own wooden doll while trying to destroy your opponent’s.
The point system gave the referee significant discretion. If things looked dangerous, they could quickly award points to end the match.
“First match, begin!”
Number one was the Grappling Club president, number two the Fist Club president. The fight between the club leaders was incredibly fierce. Since they were either on the verge of First-class or had just reached it, the tension rivaled that of a UFC match.
“The senior using fist techniques is definitely First-class, while the one using grappling is still Second-class. But it looks like the fist user has a bad matchup.”
Cheon So-yeon analyzed their skills as she watched the spar. Against joint locks and grappling, maintaining distance was crucial. However, fist techniques made it difficult to create space, giving grappling the advantage.
Especially for martial artists, the most vulnerable period was right after advancing to a new realm. Once you gained new abilities, you tended to neglect what you were previously familiar with. Above all, arrogance took root. And nothing was more poisonous than arrogance.
The fight remained fierce, yet the Fist Club president—who had reached First-class—never once used his fist qi. Was it because it required concentration? Or was he saving his strength for the next match?
The moment I thought that, the Grappling Club president caught him in a hold and flowed into a joint-lock combo.
Is the Grappling Club president going to win like this?
“The fist senior won,” Cheon So-yeon said.
When I focused again, I saw the joint lock hadn’t fully connected. Joint techniques were extremely advanced. Once caught, it was hard to escape, but even a tiny mistake could prevent them from landing properly. The Fist Club president used his hidden card—fist qi—and tried to slam his fist into the ground with the Grappling Club president still in his grasp.
“Stop! Cheon Haeu, that’s ten points.”
The Fist Club president stopped just before impact. The Grappling Club president, sweating profusely, acknowledged his defeat. Though the lock hadn’t fully landed, the Fist Club president grimaced, his joints clearly aching from the pressure.
The following matches were just as intense. As Cheon So-yeon watched the seniors spar, the displeasure she had felt earlier seemed to melt away. She now looked at them like a proud older sister watching promising juniors.
“Did watching that make you want to join a club?” I asked.
Cheon So-yeon tilted her head. “No. Creating one still seems better than joining. Fewer people that way.”
“I figured.”
Cheon So-yeon didn’t particularly enjoy being around large crowds. In that sense, establishing her own club had been inevitable. With only forty-one clubs in the entire school, even the unpopular ones likely had dozens of members. For someone who disliked crowds, saying she would join a club if she lost was essentially the same as saying she would never lose.
“Oh, the Sword Club president won in the end.”
The final between the two gorillas—the Sword Club president and the Fist Club president—ended in the Sword Club president’s victory. As martial artists advanced, the advantage of weapons gradually diminished. Before learning internal energy, fighting bare-handed against a sword was impossible. But once you could reinforce your fists with qi, you could clash with steel. Still, at the First-class level, the gap between weapon and fist couldn’t be completely closed. A sword had greater reach and was far harder. Moreover, the Fist Club president had fought three consecutive matches with injured joints from the earlier grapple, while the Sword Club president had only fought twice. The result was only natural.
“Watching proper sparring like this is definitely helpful,” I said.
Since the seniors practiced the same martial arts as me, their movements and decision-making were worth studying. Cheon So-yeon nodded at my words.
“Right? For martial artists, both fighting and observing are important.”
Now it was time for the real final.
Although her opponent had fought multiple matches in a row, Cheon So-yeon didn’t ask for a break. The sixth-graders already knew how ridiculous it was for them to be sparring against a first-year who had just enrolled. Asking for rest would have been pathetic. They had experienced the overwhelming pressure of her aura, but they lacked the experience to recognize it as concentrated intent. I only knew because my master, Siwoo, had occasionally taught me about handling intent. Otherwise, I might have been worried about her.
“I really hope we can do club activities together, junior Cheon So-yeon.”
“I will do my best, senior.”
At the Sword Club president Cheon Jeon-il’s words, Cheon So-yeon simply drew her wooden sword in silence. Just looking at their size difference, it resembled an adult threatening a child. Yet no one tried to stop it. I knew Cheon So-yeon’s true strength, and Kim Dohwa, as her homeroom teacher, wanted to see the limits of her talent.
“Both of you, prepare yourselves. Sparring begins!”
At Kim Dohwa’s declaration, Cheon So-yeon moved first. Using the subtle principles of light footwork to make her body weightless, she closed the distance in an instant and slashed upward from below.
Crack!
The wooden swords collided with a clear, resounding sound. Tension flashed across Cheon Jeon-il’s face after he blocked the strike. He must have instinctively realized that the power behind that upward cut—despite its seemingly light execution—was far from ordinary.
“That was just to tell you not to let your guard down. You can’t afford to be careless now.”
At Cheon So-yeon’s words, Cheon Jeon-il swung his sword down toward the top of her head with genuine seriousness. The moment Cheon So-yeon raised her sword to meet it, she slid along the flat of his blade and struck his wrist.
“Ugh!”
“Cheon So-yeon, three points.”
The reason it was only three points was because Cheon So-yeon had held back. If she had struck properly, he would have dropped his sword instantly, ending the match at ten points. But it seemed she wanted to give her senior a valuable experience, so she took a relaxed step back.
Once distance was created, Cheon Jeon-il attacked with renewed fighting spirit, swinging his sword. Realizing that large movements made him vulnerable to counters like before, his motions were now much tighter. He seemed to be limiting the power of his swings so he could recover his sword at any moment.
In that case, the fight would come down to sword technique. And in a battle of technique, Cheon So-yeon could not lose. She lightly deflected the sword swinging toward her, then struck his leg twice and his side once.
“Cheon So-yeon, nine points. One point remaining.”
At Kim Dohwa’s announcement, Cheon Jeon-il looked at Cheon So-yeon with clear reverence. There was a five-year age gap between them—an insurmountable difference at this stage—yet on the verge of defeat, he showed her genuine respect.
“There are no openings at all. This is clearly my loss.”
Cheon Jeon-il accepted his defeat gracefully, then assumed a final stance.
“Then it would be proper to show you my full power without leaving even a single regret! Receive my ultimate technique!”
The aura radiating from the stationary Cheon Jeon-il was anything but ordinary. Kim Dohwa moved to intervene, but Cheon So-yeon raised a hand to stop her.
“Come at me, senior.”
“Very well! Here I come!”
A vivid sword qi surged from Cheon Jeon-il’s wooden sword, forming a dragon-like shape as he unleashed his killing technique. Cheon So-yeon did not use sword qi. She simply pierced the weakness in the incoming blade’s trajectory, twisted the flow of power, and redirected it along the flat of her sword.
The training wooden sword was shredded by the ferocious sword qi. Yet in the end, she completely neutralized his attack, stepped into his embrace, and pressed her tattered wooden sword against his throat.
Tap.
“…I lost.”
Before Kim Dohwa could declare the outcome, Cheon Jeon-il admitted defeat. Cheon So-yeon withdrew her sword and bowed politely.
“Thank you for the match, senior. If you hadn’t been exhausted from the previous fights, I’m not sure how it would have gone.”
Not a single person in the room believed her words. While it was true Cheon Jeon-il was tired, the way she had waited for him to unleash his final ultimate technique before dismantling it proved that even at his peak, he could never have defeated her.
“Ah, are you really not interested in joining our club?”
It seemed the spar had only deepened his regret. Cheon So-yeon cut through his lingering attachment with a single decisive answer.
“I am not.”
“I see. I’m envious of your friend. If you were in the same club, you could spar to your heart’s content, right?”
It appeared Cheon Jeon-il had truly stepped forward with no ulterior motives, purely wishing to train with Cheon So-yeon.
“Jiwoo and I spar every day even without being in the same club.”
Well, that was true. Although since I was still far behind her, it was basically just me receiving instruction.
At Cheon So-yeon’s answer, Cheon Jeon-il looked at me with eyes full of envy.
“Can’t I join your club too?”
“Ah, that might be a bit much.”
“That’s too cruel.”
When Cheon So-yeon’s expression turned serious, Cheon Jeon-il looked slightly hurt.
“Now then, I assume none of you have any objections to me and Jiwoo creating our own club?”
Cheon So-yeon smiled brightly, and no one could refute her. After giving them an unnecessary chance out of consideration and proving her superiority with skill, it was only natural.
And so, Cheon So-yeon and I officially established the club commonly known as the Elixir Club.
(To be continued in the next chapter)