Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Five Saints of a Different Caliber
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The Five Saints of a different league.
It was the one and only advantage Jang Un had possessed in his previous life. Yuk Ju-jin, who was the family head at the time, had made good use of Jang Un's talents. He assigned him the role of an instructor, tasked with studying the martial arts of other factions and teaching the warriors.
Unless it was a supreme martial art that wielded all kinds of harmony with a single sword, there was no technique Jang Un couldn't steal. He could imitate any martial art after seeing it just once. He could even improve upon martial techniques and devise countermeasures.
'Thanks to that, I got to experience all sorts of martial arts.'
Most of them were mediocre. The Ceremonial Fist was no exception. Though called the military's standard martial art, it was in truth a hastily crafted external art designed to train conscripts. It was easy to learn, but its limitations were clear.
However, it looked different to the spectators.
"Did he really teach the warriors himself?"
"It's too early to judge. He's only shown the basic forms so far."
"Even the forms are a perfect match for that Dan-ryeong fellow—what do you mean too early!"
In their eyes, Yuk Jin-yang appeared as some inscrutable enigma. It had nothing to do with the quality of the Ceremonial Fist.
He was merely fifteen years old. The son of a couple exiled from the family, no less. To flaunt such skill with no real support, relying solely on talent...
"Everyone's making such a fuss. As if imitating the Ceremonial Fist is such a big deal."
Amid the commotion in the arena, Yuk Gyun snorted derisively. His displeasure was plain on his face.
"That's not something you should say, brother. Whose son do you think caused all this?"
Yuk Eon shot back without missing a beat.
"What?"
"Did I say something wrong? Just watch. His innocence will be proven soon enough."
"Hmph! Spouting off like you're so superior. As if that clumsy imitation proves anything."
Yuk Eon smirked at his second brother's retort.
"To me, it looks less like imitation and more like mastery. I guess your discernment hasn't improved with time."
"You're just spouting nonsense out of spite."
Yuk Gyun chuckled mockingly, then abruptly sent a sound transmission with a proposal.
—Want to make a bet? I'll wager your son loses.
—A bet needs stakes to be valid.
Yuk Eon pondered briefly before replying, also via sound transmission. He was mindful of the onlookers. Betting on family matters wouldn't paint a good picture.
Without waiting for a response, Yuk Eon made his offer.
—How about a person?
—Are you joking? Even if it's Flying Stream Pavilion, that's only ten people.
—Don't worry. I'll stake a spirit elixir. Human-Shaped Snow Ginseng and ten of Distant River Pavilion's talents—it's no loss for you, brother.
—Human-Shaped Snow Ginseng?
Yuk Gyun's eyes widened in an instant. They gleamed with greed.
The Human-Shaped Snow Ginseng was a supreme spirit elixir not even found in the Yuk Clan's treasury. Infused with the mystical spiritual energy of the North Sea, it was priceless. Ten talents would be a small price if he could obtain it.
Intense desire clouded his mind, but Yuk Gyun showed suspicion.
—How do you even have that? Even if you chanced upon it, not consuming it until now is downright suspicious.
—If you don't believe me, forget it.
Yuk Eon feigned indifference. Yuk Gyun hurriedly backpedaled.
—No, I accept. But remember this—if you're trying to mock me, you'll regret it dearly.
—You too, brother.
Woooaaah!
A sudden roar drew both men's gazes to the training ground.
Yuk Gyun's face hardened.
Just moments ago, the two had been locked in confrontation on the training ground.
Now, Dan-ryeong lay sprawled on the ground, limbs fully extended.
"D-Did you see that?"
"That was the Ceremonial Fist's seventh form. No technique you could fake with a superficial glance."
"So it's confirmed he mastered the Ceremonial Fist...!"
The buzz of voices was dizzying.
Dan-ryeong's eyes snapped open.
He felt a throbbing dizziness, as if his skull were rattling. His head pounded, making it hard to steady himself. A sudden question arose. Why were his hands pressed against the ground?
His blurry vision gradually sharpened. The figure of his opponent, standing tall right before him, came into focus.
A memory flashed through his mind. It was the moment just before he lost consciousness.
Dan-ryeong had aimed to seize the initiative immediately. It wasn't carelessness. He already knew Yuk Jin-yang's exceptional aptitude. He'd felt it keenly from Yuk Hong-seo's crushing defeat not long ago.
His opponent was a monster who could imitate the Swirling Stream Chaotic Flowers Art after seeing it once. The longer the exchange dragged on, the more disadvantageous it would be. To create an upset, he needed to go all out from the start.
So he charged boldly. Aiming for the solar plexus, he thrust his arm forward—only for a lightning strike to come from the opposite side.
That was the last of his memory.
'Did I really go down in just one exchange?'
Dan-ryeong gritted his teeth. This wouldn't do. The stakes were already sky-high. Too much was on the line. The Distant River Pavilion Leader wasn't the type to forgive defeat lightly.
To survive, he had to prove his worth.
Dan-ryeong had no desire to die in a place like this. To be executed just for aiding his master's scheme? What a pathetic end. It would be better to die as a wanderer in the martial world.
His survival instinct forced him to his feet.
"Hoo."
He regulated his breathing. Any lingering arrogance was exhaled away. The boy before him was no clumsy youth. He had to treat him as a true warrior.
'I still have a chance to win.'
Every warrior kept an ultimate life-saving technique in reserve.
Dan-ryeong had one too. A fragment of supreme martial art he'd stolen by peeking over shoulders during his military days.
If his opponent only expected the Ceremonial Fist, it would work. He was certain.
Dan-ryeong let out a fierce shout.
"Haaap!"
The atmosphere shifted in an instant. Yuk Jin-yang stood motionless, impassively watching Dan-ryeong's movements.
Thud!
Dan-ryeong grimaced and kicked off the ground, leaping forward. His form blurred into afterimages. A shockwave and scorching wind blasted forth. His ferocious charge closed the distance in a breath.
Yuk Jin-yang clicked his tongue. He'd meant it when he wanted to drag the fight out. But his opponent seemed intent on a quick finish.
His clothes fluttered in the headwind from the charge. Yuk Jin-yang casually raised an arm. The back of his hand lightly flicked away the incoming straight punch.
It didn't end there. His fluid motion snagged even the follow-up thrust like lightning. All with one arm, he suppressed his foe.
Dan-ryeong's eyes bulged as his wrist was seized. A choked gasp escaped him.
"Shallow tricks. I see right through them."
Yuk Jin-yang said leisurely. His other hand remained clasped behind his back. He'd read his opponent's intent from the start. The seemingly ferocious punch was a feint. The real strike was the second one.
It was a clever ploy, but Dan-ryeong's proficiency didn't match the technique's level. The motions distinguishing feint from strike were too distinct. Likely from half-hearted self-study without proper instruction. Or perhaps a failure to grasp true essence.
Yuk Jin-yang indifferently probed his opponent's martial origins.
"That last form wasn't Ceremonial Fist. Something you stole while in the military?"
"Kuh!"
Veins bulged on Dan-ryeong's neck.
Strength surged into the gripped arm. Yuk Jin-yang released him without resistance. A punch flew in as if anticipated. Laden with full power, the momentum at the fist's tip was fierce.
Yuk Jin-yang lightly shifted his stance. The gap closed to half a step. With his right arm, he traced a gentle arc.
Bam!
The palm strike, angled perfectly upward, deflected the fist. Savage power from such a graceful motion—it was hard to believe.
Deer Antler Palm. A palm technique originating from the Southern Song Dynasty's naval drills.
Dan-ryeong staggered. Outmatched in strength. He glared in disbelief.
Yuk Jin-yang had seized control with one blow. Time to press the attack.
Naturally, he thrust his left hand toward the now-exposed torso.
"Kuh!"
Dan-ryeong twisted away, barely avoiding a direct hit. Instead, he tumbled across the ground.
His face flushed crimson as he pushed up from the dirt. Having resorted to a wrestler's scramble without regard for dignity, his humiliation was evident.
'This guy's reaching his limit.'
If he'd wanted, Yuk Jin-yang could have ended the spar then. It wasn't complacency or misplaced mercy.
He simply had more to show.
Yuk Jin-yang remembered the purpose of this spar. Victory was a given. Better to demonstrate more martial arts than rush to a close.
Yuk Jin-yang shifted his stance again. He straightened his upper body, widened his stance. Power in the lower body, torso diagonally turned. Overtly signaling an ultimate technique.
Dan-ryeong spat out his boiling rage.
"If you think you've already won, you'll regret it."
"Does a dullard like you not know his place?"
Yuk Jin-yang muttered as if to himself. Dan-ryeong ground his teeth and asked,
"...What was that?"
"After all these exchanges, do you still think you're in a position to receive advice? Hands-on, you're sorely lacking."
Instead of replying, Dan-ryeong kicked off the ground. This time, not a frontal charge—he soared high into the air.
Sunlight filtered through the silk canopy mingled with his silhouette.
The glare obscured his vision. Backlit by the sun, it was hard to track with the naked eye.
Yuk Jin-yang heightened his senses. His sharpened perception caught the blazing energy above his crown.
In that instant, the foe entered range. Yuk Jin-yang twisted his waist without hesitation. The rotation of his entire body embodied the principle of the Warrior's Mirror.
Half a turn in, his leg shot up like a drawn sword. An upward kick aimed high tore through the air in a straight trajectory.
Supporting Wind Kick. An ultimate technique of the Qiang tribe warriors from the western frontiers long ago.
Whoosh!
Energy gathered at his toe swirled like a gale. The Warrior's Mirror principle. Dan-ryeong arched back in alarm mid-fall, but the monstrous speed of the powered kick was unrelenting.
Boom!
Dan-ryeong's body plummeted after a direct hit to the jaw. The stone slabs shattered, kicking up thick dust.
A brutal impact. Falling headfirst while unconscious warranted concern for severe injury, yet no one rushed to check him.
"Deer Antler Palm after Ceremonial Fist! I thought it was third-rate navy trash from the Yangtze, but to use it with such improvisation..."
"And Supporting Wind Kick? Useful in the Jin Dynasty a millennium ago, maybe. Now it's just a common kicking art from the northwest."
Ceremonial Fist, Deer Antler Palm, Supporting Wind Kick. Impressive names, but arts widespread across the land. Even street ronin could easily obtain manuals.
The elders' voices grew more solemn.
"Flying Stream Pavilion's young master has proven his words no empty boast."
"Indeed. At that level, he could teach vassals without even borrowing Martial Valor Hall's manuals."
"Distant River Pavilion looks foolish now."
Riiip!
A sudden tearing sound rent the air.
All eyes turned to the ceiling. The canopy blocking the sunlight was splitting in two. The kick's aftershock had sliced through the silk cleanly.