Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Friendly Tournament (4)
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The Golden Craft Sect was confident it would win the friendly tournament.
The reason was simple.
Over the past twenty years or so, they had been incredibly lucky with talent.
An abnormally high number of spirit root holders had been discovered, including even a Single Spirit Root Holder found after a mere sixty-year gap.
With so many people, there were naturally many geniuses.
Among the current Golden Craft Sect's Qi Condensation cultivators, there were top-notch prodigies galore.
The ten competitors who had made it through the fierce preliminaries boasted truly dazzling achievements.
At least half of them were fist experts on the verge of Foundation Establishment.
It was a golden generation in every sense.
The visible score gap proved it.
They had crushed the Black Bamboo Sect—which had been considered their rival until just two hundred years ago—with overwhelming margin.
Just one more takedown, and victory would belong to the Golden Craft Sect.
Of course, there was something a bit odd.
A few of the Black Bamboo Sect representatives seemed surprisingly unskilled in bare-handed combat for ones who might place.
They looked like people whose specialty was weapons, with only basic fist training for emergencies.
Some Golden Craft Sect cultivators had pointed it out, but no one took it seriously.
What, had they selected their tournament participants by footrace or something insane?
They must just be unlucky with talent.
Geum Yeongyeong, the self-proclaimed leader of the golden generation, shared that view.
She smirked at the Black Bamboo Sect's final competitor.
‘What, no decent fighters available? The Black Bamboo Sect is so pitiful, sending out even a kid like that.’
Word was, they hadn't found a Single Spirit Root Holder in nearly three hundred years.
Unless some plague had wiped out droves of commoners, it was the only way to explain their rotten luck.
‘I’ll show mercy and end it in one hit.’
She had no hobby of toying with the weak.
Even a tiger hunts a rabbit with full effort.
The Single Spirit Root Holder Geum Yeongyeong knew no such thing as letting her guard down.
Just as she was letting her guard down like that, the referee signaled the start of the match.
‘Huh?’
Seoran closed in in an instant, spinning swiftly into a back roundhouse kick.
Geum Yeongyeong, who had slightly relaxed, hurriedly crossed her arms to guard her head.
But the heel broke through the defense and smashed into Geum Yeongyeong's temple.
Geum Yeongyeong lost consciousness on the spot.
The watching Golden Craft Sect representatives whispered among themselves.
“Geum Susa let her guard down. Probably because the opponent looks so young.”
“Has to be. Her finishes are always sloppy.”
“Don’t say it so bluntly. Geum Susa’s more sensitive than she seems.”
“What excuse will she come up with this time? Blame fatigue from back-to-back matches?”
“With that personality, she’d die before admitting she let her guard down. Just play along if she grumbles. Don’t tease her into crying.”
“Nineteen years old and still just like when she was a kid.”
“Let her be, she’s cute.”
Geum Yeongyeong—the Golden Craft Sect’s troublemaker and beloved little sister to all—was carried off the arena.
And the eighth competitor stepped into the ring.
*****
Jeong Susa’s greatest strength was his diligence.
He had never slacked off for even a moment when learning and training new martial arts.
With talent combined with effort, his skills improved daily.
Jeong Susa was twenty-seven this year.
When he had begun training in martial arts, Seoran hadn’t even been born yet.
Even so, Jeong Susa did not underestimate his opponent.
A fierce barrage poured down on Seoran.
Sweeping aside her guarding hands for a palm strike to the face, kicking her supporting foot to break her stance, deflecting his thrusting fist and countering with an elbow.
She resisted desperately, but the gap in fundamentals was too vast.
It was only because this was a friendly tournament that she had lasted this long.
Under rules allowing vital strikes and joint locks, Seoran would have fallen ten times over already.
Jeong Susa hammered away at his opponent nonstop, unable to hide his surprise.
A normal cultivator would have knelt long ago under such attacks.
His own striking limbs were starting to ache instead.
But Jeong Susa felt no anxiety.
The clash of skills ended in Jeong Susa’s one-sided dominance.
He calmly built his advantage, accumulating damage steadily.
At this rate, victory was certain.
Seoran sensed her own defeat.
Without finding a breakthrough, she couldn’t close the gap.
If she didn’t turn the tables now, there would be no more chances.
Continued damage accumulation would leave her without even the capacity to exploit openings later.
They had already gauged each other’s capabilities clearly.
If a decisive move was to come, it had to be now.
No words were exchanged, but both thought the same.
Suddenly, Seoran unleashed a front kick.
A full-power strike aimed at the jaw.
The big motion left her stance vulnerable.
Jeong Susa judged swiftly.
Her upper body was flung back from the full exertion.
With her balance disrupted, any follow-up arm strike would lack power.
Block the kick, and he could topple her before she recovered.
Decision made, Jeong Susa immediately set his stance.
He bent at the waist, extending crossed arms.
His bent knee straightened, preemptively defending before her toes reached impact.
Jeong Susa’s defense was perfect.
The kick hadn’t accelerated fully, robbing it of power.
The problem was Seoran’s superhuman leg strength, defying common sense.
At the leap, Seoran’s leg—which jumped half again as high as others—created the anomaly once more.
Irresistible force lifted Jeong Susa.
His feet left the ground.
The height Jeong Susa floated was very low.
He could land again immediately.
But in that instant, he was defenseless.
Seoran twisted her body into a spin and attacked again.
All her power converged on one point.
A side kick exploded out like a cannon shell, slamming into Jeong Susa.
Jeong Susa displayed unbelievable skill in turn.
Even in the unforeseen situation, he minimized damage with the best defense.
And in midair, he regained balance to land on both feet.
But he had lost.
“Out of bounds! Winner: Ryu Seoran of Black Bamboo Sect!”
Hearing the referee’s shout, Jeong Susa gave a wry smile.
His landing spot was outside the arena.
Even floating in the air, to send a grown man flying out of the ring with a kick...
He felt the sting of underestimating his opponent.
Immediately after, cheers from the Black Bamboo Sect cultivators shook the arena.
Two Golden Craft Sect competitors remained.
*****
Ha Susa entered the arena.
He was a giant so tall Seoran had to crane her neck fully to meet his eyes.
The calluses on his palms revealed his specialty lay not in fists but in wrestling techniques.
But the advantages from sheer size difference could never be dismissed.
The two charged at each other the moment the match began.
Seoran focused on evasion over defense.
It wasn’t power she could block and endure.
Her damage-accumulated body might crumble from a single hit.
Ha Susa openly wary of Seoran’s kicks.
The force that had instantly hurled a man a head taller than her out of the arena demanded caution.
He had to close distance and eliminate her kicking angles.
The match naturally became a tightrope of precarious moments.
Seoran attacked his lower body repeatedly to keep him in check.
Her instep whipped like a lash into Ha Susa’s calves and thighs.
Enduring the low kicks stoically, Ha Susa countered cleanly whenever opportunity arose.
Short, sharp straight punches, long strikes, palm heels—threatening his opponent.
Basic motions, but overwhelming in power.
Though landing blows one-sidedly, Seoran remained at a disadvantage.
She had no idea how many more strikes it would take to fell him.
No matter how much she hit, Ha Susa closed in impassively.
Fail to evade or get cornered, and it was over.
Her body, worn from consecutive bouts, grew numb with pain and fatigue.
Ha Susa herded the slowing Seoran steadily in one direction.
The wall crept closer step by step.
Finally, nowhere left to retreat.
An unavoidable fist burrowed into Seoran’s side.
The impact felt impossibly heavy for a short, snappy strike.
Ha Susa, who had awaited the opening, moved instantly.
Closing tight to seal kicks, he drove down an elbow.
An attack with no space to dodge or means to block.
So to survive, Seoran advanced.
A kick arcing upside-down from the ground slammed into Ha Susa’s temple.
A motion defying logic.
Normally, kicks in close quarters lose speed and power.
But Seoran’s flexible hips forcibly created the angle from outside.
The near-miraculous counter shook Ha Susa’s brain.
Despite the blind-spot, illogical attack and churning vision, Ha Susa responded at once.
Arms raised to face level, he lowered his center of gravity.
Then tensed his entire body, rigidifying muscles.
Whatever trick she used, it was a kick.
That girl’s fists couldn’t pierce his neck muscles to cause concussion.
So first, protect the head from the kick.
Shaking vision made normal defense impossible.
Then abandon defense entirely and trust durability.
Lower stance to avoid falling, endure the onslaught.
Just hold out until vision cleared, and he would win.
Ha Susa gritted his teeth.
Right then, Seoran’s assault began.
The spectators watched the match with bated breath.
The situation was clear at a glance.
If Ha Susa weathered the attacks, the utterly exhausted Seoran would lose.
With no room left, Seoran had to fell him with this offensive.
Seoran drew a deep breath and held it.
Then unleashed a dazzling barrage.
In the blink of an eye, she struck her opponent dozens of times.
To win, she had to end it in one go.
So she expended her last reserves of stamina.
No turning back now.
The pure contest of toughness and endurance ended swiftly.
Seoran’s attacks ceased.
Her trembling arms were clearly at their limit, obvious to anyone.
And Ha Susa dropped to his knees.