Sword Quiz - 3: The Flaw in Perfection
The second question depicted a figure transformed from a boy into a woman. She held the Azure River Sword high above her head, one leg lifted in the air. Unlike the previous riddle, there were no follow-up movements. This time, the challenge wasn't just identifying the martial art—it demanded spotting the flaw as well.
It was right when Jang Cheon had just reached the fourth floor.
"Th-this... this is different!"
A middle-aged man wearing a Taoist cap protested to the attendant. "Don't you remember me? I'm the Multi-Fragrance Swordsman of Hubei. I survived all the way to the third question last year. That one was the third question back then, wasn't it? Why is it different now from then?"
"Then what reason is there for it to be the same?"
The attendant remained impassive. "The questions are given by the master. There's no reason for last year and this year to match. Since you've seen this one before, great hero, it should be easier for you."
"Wha... who could solve that? I know—I saw the Jade Dragon Pavilion Master of the Zhuge family agonize over it for two shichen before giving up..."
The man tore at his hair. In the end, he chose to forfeit. Then four more followed him out. The news that even the Jade Dragon Pavilion Master had given up had broken their spirits.
In the end, only three remained: the Azure Banner Sword Guard of the Orthodox Sword Sect, a young beggar in tattered clothes, and Jang Cheon.
"Hm, looks like even I need to give it my all. Unfortunately, my pride won't let me quit."
The young beggar muttered as much. Around his waist hung six knots tied with a red sash. Six Knots. That marked a fairly high rank even in the Beggars' Sect.
The beggar scrutinized the woman's hand. The grip on the sword and its flair revealed much. It showed the straightforward, swift style unique to Shaanxi. Before long, the beggar realized the identity of this martial art. Plum Blossom Sword Technique. The famously renowned art of the Mount Hua Sect.
But this question demanded going one step further: finding the flaw. For a famous sword art, information abounded in the jianghu. How many centuries had passed since those who made flowers bloom with their swords roamed the land? Mount Hua had many enemies and rivals, some reaching lofty realms. Thus, several flaws in the Plum Blossom Sword Technique were widely known.
However.
"The defenses on the Ghost Gate Acupoint are perfect... Ghost Valley, Great Foundation, even Small Finger. The known flaws... won't work."
The woman in the painting seemed impervious to any flaw. The tiniest differences. The angle of the elbow and ribs. The distance between sword and ground. The leg free to strike. These minute variances separated master from novice. That was the power that forged famed sword sects.
The question itself was a trap. It effectively concealed the sword form's flaws with the artist's skill.
"Guess this is as far as I go."
Before long, all raised their hands. The Azure Banner Sword Guard forfeited after half a shichen. The young beggar spent a full shichen before writing a wrong answer.
Finally, only Jang Cheon remained. He drained his cup and spoke to the attendant.
"Devious."
"......"
"Who could spot the flaw in a Plum Blossom Sword Technique at the Transformation Realm?"
"Indeed."
Surprisingly, the attendant readily agreed. Jang Cheon turned with puzzled eyes. This was his master's doing, yet it seemed he didn't care for this question either. A faint sigh escaped.
"This devious question was originally the third one. For the third, we give a portion of the prize just for looking. ...Well, since you stayed till the end today, great hero, I can give you three hundred taels if you want."
"You didn't expect anyone to get it right?"
"Something like that. But we can't skip family tradition, can we?"
Her tone was nonchalant, as if the ordeal was over and he should just leave. It sparked a bit of defiance in Jang Cheon.
"What if I get it right? More reward?"
"Of course."
"Then here's the answer. Sword Force."
Alone now, he didn't even need brush or ink. The attendant fell silent. That was as good as affirmation.
"The form is perfect. It can handle offense and defense, advance and retreat, counterattack with ease—the optimal stance. So the flaw must lie elsewhere."
Did a flawless technique exist? Jang Cheon believed not. There was no invincible martial art in the world. Even Cheon Yomyeong's Twin Phoenix Cooperative Dance that felled him was no different. It was merely refined enough to hide its flaws.
From the start, battles between those beyond Transformation Realm hinged on too many variables. The woman's Plum Blossom Sword seemed impenetrable at a glance. Under equal conditions, it would be. Thus, the answer lay not in the sword stance itself.
"The emphasis on counter and defense means innate strength is lacking. Overwhelming power would shatter it."
"...Have you faced this art before, by any chance?"
"Something like that. What's in the answer key?"
"Sword Force... it says. You may proceed."
Upward stairs. Jang Cheon pondered. What was the purpose of such questions? The thousand-tael prize seemed too paltry for this level. Few could discern the subtle difference between Taiji Beneficent Sword and Mysterious Heaven Step by eye. Few could probe the flaws in a perfected Plum Blossom Sword.
Only someone like him, once hunted by all Nine Great Sects...
"The final question. You can forfeit here and still get five hundred taels."
The third question wasn't on the fifth floor. Astonishingly, it was on the topmost floor, far above. A small room where fewer than ten could enter in all of Seongdo.
And in that room, as expected, hung a scroll.
The previous paintings had been masterful, but this transcended them. Surely painted by a genius artist.
And within that scroll stood a man wielding a half-sword.
"......This."
A pitch-black half-sword. The most meticulously detailed part of the scroll. Jagged in places like broken teeth, yet the edge bore no blemish. Forged that way from the beginning.
The sword blade, black as if devouring light, stumped even the artisans of the Thunderclap Sect. Yet it never dulled. Not through dozens of life-or-death battles. Not in the final clash where Transformation and Manifestation Realm warriors unleashed ultimate arts.
Black Yao remained Black Yao.
He knew it the instant he saw the painting.
"......"
And the man wielding it? He assumed the upper stance. His footwork was rock-solid and stable. Of course. Black Death Swordplay demanded such execution.
Simply exploding inner power wasn't enough. It required a tempered body to withstand the pressure and a sturdy stance to support it.
Thousands of mental rehearsals in Geumroe-ok. Years more after escaping to perfect it. Forged with his lifeblood.
The eight methods that became his moniker. Black Arrow Eight Methods, third form. The form of Darkness.
"Who... drew this?"
"I don't know. The master inherited it down the generations."
His mind reeled in chaos. Emotion burst forth in bewilderment.
Jang Cheon whirled on the attendant and shouted.
"What game are you playing? Who drew this?"
"Wh-what's with you all of a sudden? Starting a ruckus out of nowhere! It's a handed-down painting, I tell you!"
The attendant seemed more startled by Jang Cheon's outburst. No lie in her eyes.
Yet Jang Cheon raised his voice again.
"Answer me, Geum Jeoksan! Who gave this to you?"
"How do you even..."
The attendant unwittingly spoke truth, then bit her lip with a start. She drew a small dagger from her bosom.
"Step back!"
Intending self-defense. Her footwork and gaze marked her as ordinary. First-rate, perhaps. Meaningless, of course.
Jang Cheon still couldn't grasp it. For a martial artist, reviewing fights was like breathing. He remembered every technique he'd unleashed since his release. No chaotic melee scattering his mind, no endless battle denying sleep. All memories crystal clear.
From leaving the Cheon Family cave to now, he'd never used the third form of Black Arrow Eight Methods.
"I see!"
Suddenly, Geum Jeoksan cried out. With a venomous smile.
"You strutted in all cocky, but can't claim the prize, so you're throwing a tantrum? Hmph."
"......"
"We had this last year too. Sorry, but I have ways to protect myself."
Way off base. The absurd misunderstanding snapped Jang Cheon back to reality. Thinking he'd cornered him, Geum Jeoksan pressed with a shrill voice.
"This is why martial artists are all the same! Chasing money while pretending to value honor and righteousness. Shaanxi or Sichuan, no difference!"
An ironic remark. Sichuan held the Cheon Family Manor that felled him; Shaanxi, his hometown Simha. Insulting martial artists of both regions at once furrowed brows.
Yet Jang Cheon had been rough too.
"The insult displeases, but I can answer. That man in the scroll... bears close ties to me."
"Is that so? Then spit out the answer ri—"
Boom!Clang!
Sudden explosion. Then metallic ring. Amid the quiz, thick black smoke flooded the seventh floor of Fame Pavilion. Smoke bombs used by the northern Thunderclap Sect.
But more dangerous lurked within the black haze. A blade painted pitch-black for concealment!
Not aimed at the man. Clearly targeting the woman.
"Kyaaak!"
Geum Jeoksan's skills were unremarkable. Her focus on the man left her vulnerable. Her hasty defensive form missed wide. Eyes squeezed shut, she trembled awaiting pain.
But no agony came, no matter how long. Peeking open, she saw a broad back. A man in black martial robes stood before her.
Truth be told, Geum Jeoksan was extremely lucky today. To have a Manifestation Realm warrior take interest in such a situation.
"Black Arrow Eight Methods."
"......This."
"Wrong?"
One more thing. Geum Jeoksan thought quickly, acted without hesitation. And now, she knew clinging to this man meant survival.
So she spoke.
"Two hundred taels. Get me out of here, and I'll give it right now."
"......"
Such words in this moment? Jang Cheon was purely astonished.
But Geum Jeoksan read the brief silence differently.
"Five hundred taels."
"......"
"Two thousand taels. If you escort me to the upper district somehow."
"Deal."
He had reason to save her anyway; money was a bonus. No trouble at all.