Chapter 168
Chapter 168
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 168
Chapter Title: Crushing the Prodigy
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Next to him, Namgung Chang quickly answered.
"That's the Daoist we saw earlier."
"A Daoist?"
"There were Wudang Sect Daoists around earlier, right?"
"Ah, but what's their deal?"
Namgung Hyeok gazed at him with innocent eyes, and Paeng Junghyeok felt a vein throbbing in the back of his head.
". . . Do you not know who the Wudang Prodigy is?"
"Come on, what do I know about Daoists?"
". . ."
In the world, even if someone was utterly ignorant of the martial world, not knowing the Wudang Prodigy?
Paeng Junghyeok let out a groan.
"He's one of the top later-generation disciples in the entire martial world! The pinnacle of the Wudang Sect, called the strongest alongside the Shaolin Prodigy..."
"Ah, a later-generation disciple."
"He's not just any later-generation disciple!"
". . ."
So what?
Namgung Hyeok looked at him with eyes that seemed to ask just that.
Paeng Junghyeok's mind twisted slightly.
He had no idea where to even start explaining so that Namgung Hyeok would grasp just how screwed he was.
Someone who doesn't know what a tiger is will think of it as just a big cat, no matter how you describe it.
". . . You absolutely cannot treat the Prodigy as just another later-generation disciple. He's already surpassed the limits of what a later-generation disciple can achieve."
There were even rumors in some circles that he had already surpassed experts a generation above him.
The second-generation disciples of the Nine Great Sects ranged from their late thirties to fifties.
An age where internal energy and the body harmonized perfectly, where experience in the martial world had been fully internalized, reaching their prime.
They were at the height of their activity, their senses sharp as a blade's edge, rising to become the heavyweights of their sects—these second-generation disciples.
The elite of the sect, one could say.
It was rare even in general for a later-generation disciple in their early twenties to defeat a prime expert, let alone the second-generation disciples of the Nine Great Sects.
The swordmasters forming the Wudang Sect's Seven Stars Sword Formation were at a level surpassing the family heads of the Five Great Families.
So how monumental was it to surpass even one generation above?
". . . No matter how strong Young Hero Namgung Hyeok is, the Wudang Prodigy is not someone you can take lightly."
He hated to admit it, but the Wudang Prodigy was undoubtedly a supreme expert capable of defeating even the Blood Killer Squad Leader.
Paeng Junghyeok spoke with serious eyes.
"Be careful. The Nine Sects' movements are unusual. This tournament feels different somehow..."
"But so what."
Namgung Hyeok scratched his ear while looking at Paeng Junghyeok.
"It's just kids fighting—why be careful or not? You be careful."
". . ."
"Even if we're buddies, I'm not spotting you in the later rounds."
Paeng Junghyeok was at a loss for words.
Ah, this guy has no clue what it means to listen to someone.
'Heh, I hope the Wudang Prodigy beats him to a pulp...'
. . . For the first time, Paeng Junghyeok found himself rooting for someone from the Nine Sects.
Namgung Hyeok stretched languidly and looked at Paeng Junghyeok, Hwangbo Chung, and Moyong Su, who all seemed oddly deflated.
Seeing the heirs of the Five Great Families trembling at the mere mention of the Nine Great Sects before even meeting them, he let out a hollow chuckle.
'Back in my day, the Five Great Families still held sway.'
More than half of the Ten Supreme Masters of the world had come from the Five Great Families and other sects.
Who could have imagined the heirs of the Five Great Families quaking at later-generation disciples from the Nine Great Sects?
"Man, you're all wimps."
Namgung Hyeok snickered and turned his body.
There, a bit further away, was the Wudang...
Namgung Hyeok pointed at Cheongin with his finger and asked Paeng Junghyeok.
"Who's that guy again?"
". . . I said Cheongin."
"Cheongin?"
"Yes. Cheongin."
"Who's he supposed to be?"
". . . The Wudang Prodigy."
"Ah, the Wudang Prodigy?"
The later-generation disciples stared blankly as Namgung Hyeok burst into laughter.
Cheongin, standing far off in front of the arena, looked over at Namgung Hyeok pointing right at him.
A faint smile played across Cheongin's face.
"He must be feeling anxious and on edge. Facing an opponent like me..."
"But why do I have to be careful of the Wudang Prodigy? Is he strong?"
"Ah, he's strong! Scary strong!"
As Cheongin blankly watched the nonchalant Namgung Hyeok and the exasperated Paeng Junghyeok.
Namgung Hyeok, who had been pointing at Cheongin, turned his head toward the arena.
The figure of Cheongin standing quietly far away came into view.
Namgung Hyeok tilted his head.
"Hmm, he seems a bit different..."
His aura was calm like a still lake, his expression unshaken—indeed, there was something extraordinary about him.
Even with countless gazes pouring in from all directions, Cheongin stood in serene silence, standing out head and shoulders above the rest.
With thousands of eyes fixed on him, not a single breath faltered, exuding the quietest yet most intense presence.
He seemed like he wouldn't flinch even if an earthquake struck.
'But a crane is still just a birdbrain at the end of the day.'
And that birdbrain just happened to be his opponent now.
Namgung Hyeok grinned.
At that moment.
Thud.
Namgung Ryong placed a hand on Namgung Hyeok's shoulder as he quietly watched Cheongin.
Namgung Hyeok turned his head, and Namgung Ryong nodded emphatically.
"Worried..."
"Worried? Worried about who?"
". . . You."
"Me? Hahaha, hahahaha!"
Namgung Hyeok roared with laughter and brushed off Namgung Ryong's hand. Then, suddenly serious, he said.
"Who's worrying about who right now? Huh? Feeling pretty confident all the way to the finals, are we?"
". . ."
"Look me in the eye. Oh, dodging?"
". . ."
"If you lose to those Nine Sects punks, you're on your own. Not ten days—ten months in the doghouse!"
"Th-that's..."
Namgung Ryong's pupils shook violently.
Memories of training with Namgung Hyeok flashed by like a lantern show.
Every moment with Namgung Hyeok was a treasure, but those days were a nightmare he'd love to erase.
Feeling cold sweat dripping, Namgung Ryong's hand trembled lightly.
Crumple!
His grip tightened on the bracket sheet, and his jaw clenched.
"I'll... definitely win."
"Good."
Namgung Hyeok nodded in satisfaction.
"Let's go watch!"
Nod!
Paeng Junghyeok gaped as Namgung Hyeok and Namgung Ryong strode forward energetically.
". . . It hasn't even started yet—where are you going?"
". . ."
* * *
The arena buzzed with later-generation disciples participating in the tournament, and the crowd whispered excitedly with flushed faces.
"What's going on? The Nine Sects and Five Families are facing off from the preliminaries?!"
"Come on, is that such a big deal? With hundreds of participants, a few matchups like that are bound to happen."
"It's not just a few! Dozens of them!"
"Huh? Does that even make sense?"
"Look over there! Right there!"
At the man's shout, the spectators' eyes turned to one side of the arena.
They rubbed their eyes in disbelief at the sight of later-generation disciples from the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families paired up evenly.
With more than twenty from each easily, and the tournament allowing up to three per sect or family, nearly all the Five Families' disciples were matched against the Nine Great Sects.
"I-Incredible!"
"Whoa! They're all gathered!"
"I've watched these tournaments for over ten years, and I've never seen anything like this."
"Blood will spill from the preliminaries."
The crowd stared at the arena in excitement.
Expectations peaked on whether the Nine Great Sects would crush the Five Great Families for the win, or which later-generation disciple would stand out.
With the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families clashing head-on from the start, it felt like a real clash between two major powers!
"Starting the preliminaries with this kind of thrill."
"Hmm! Watching the prelims will show us the finals, heh heh!"
"Argh! Someone get me a roast duck! Can't just watch this!"
Baek Jong curled one corner of his mouth watching the raucous stands.
His gaze fell on the rotting elders of the Five Great Families.
"Heh heh, what a coincidence with those brackets."
The Nine Great Sects' elders chimed in.
"Those kids should have met at a higher stage. Heh heh heh."
"It ended up looking like the Nine Great Sects' later-generation disciples versus the Five Great Families'. What can we do? Can't change the draw now."
Baek Jong, True Man Jinheo, and the others chuckled softly.
Their gazes, laced with mockery and scorn, turned toward the arena.
"Hmm! Quite a few unfortunate matchups. That kid with Wudang's Cheongin—is he from the Five Great Families? Never seen him before."
His slouched, bored posture didn't scream prestigious family heir.
Yawning widely and stretching, completely ignoring his surroundings unlike Cheongin.
The elders snickered but soon lost interest.
No matter the opponent, Cheongin was obviously advancing.
The Nine Great Sects' elders scanned the other Five Families' later-generation disciples with veiled anticipation.
Wondering how many would survive.
As attention focused on the Nine Great Sects versus Five Great Families standoff and the atmosphere heated up, the announcer stepped forward to signal the start of the matches.
Cheongin glanced sideways with calm, sunken eyes.
"I didn't expect we'd meet again like this, friend."
Yaaawn!
Namgung Hyeok yawned hugely, blinking sleepy eyes as he looked at Cheongin.
He saw Cheongin's smiling face.
"So how were we supposed to meet?"
". . ."
"But why act like you know me? I don't know you."
As Namgung Hyeok tilted his head irritably, Cheongin let out a chuckle.
'Is this his way of provoking me?'
Cheongin was quite taken aback by Namgung Hyeok's prickly, standoffish manner.
Every other later-generation disciple treated even exchanging words with him as an honor, treading extremely carefully with every syllable.
'Provocation, huh.'
Haha, interesting.
It was a first for him, but Cheongin smiled faintly.
"You'll never forget this soon enough."
Never forget?
What, a prophet?
"Oh, read the heavens or something?"
Even at Namgung Hyeok's sarcasm, Cheongin just smiled.
Then.
"Group A! Cheongin! Namgung Hyeok!"
Their names were called.
Cheongin gave Namgung Hyeok a brief glance and strode confidently onto the arena.
The crowd murmured as Cheongin took the stage.
"Ooh! What presence! True presence!"
"As expected of the Prodigy! You can feel it from here!"
"Yeah, he's definitely different from the other later-generation disciples. Enough to overshadow even the Seven Dragons!"
"Poor opponent. Out in the first match of the tournament?"
"Won't even get to show his skills."
"Who cares? I'm just excited to see the Wudang Prodigy's swordsmanship—my eyes are feasting already!"
As the spectators cheered excitedly, Namgung Hyeok sauntered casually onto the arena.
Behind him, Namgung Ryong clenched his fist, and Namgung Chang shouted.
"Little bro, smash him!"
"Victory! Championship!"
Namgung Hyeok waved them off and slowly stood before Cheongin.
A markedly different reaction rippled through the crowd.
"Namgung... Family?"
"That's the second young master? The second young master?"
"Hmm... Is he sick? Why's he dragging his feet like that?"
"Hmm! Heh heh, no need to watch this one."
The crowd looked at Namgung Hyeok with mocking gazes.
The contrast with Cheongin was so stark it drew snickers.
They wondered how such a matchup was even possible, muttering that the Namgung Family must have declined to send out someone of that caliber.
Cheongin smiled faintly.
"Show your skills to the fullest. That way, no regrets. It's a tournament once every three years, after all."
"Yeah. Regrets are the worst."
"Hahaha! Give it your all, thinking it's your last."
A soft smile hung on Cheongin's lips.
'An arm, huh...'
It seemed too cruel for a swordsman, but seeing Namgung Hyeok's attitude, crippling his dantian seemed fine.
He was skilled enough to control it precisely.
Cheongin picked up a wooden sword prepared on the arena.
"What's with the wooden sword? Like a damn circus."
Namgung Hyeok grumbled and slung the wooden sword over his shoulder.
'Provoking to the end.'
Even Cheongin's patience began to crack.
He had planned to let him show a few forms, but changed his mind.
Cheongin gripped the sword tightly.
'I'll overwhelm him utterly.'
A powerful aura surged from his dantian as the Six Yang Divine Art activated.
Soon, the announcer spoke.
"No eye gouges, no groin strikes, no edged weapons. No hidden weapons, no poison. Ready?"
". . ."
"Then, begin!"
With the start signal, Cheongin dashed toward Namgung Hyeok three paces away, and the crowd's excitement exploded.
Shocked that Cheongin took the initiative, shocked again at his movement, and once more at the energy on his sword tip.
And just as attention focused on how that sword would pummel Namgung Hyeok.
"The Daoist throws the first punch? Fuck?"
Namgung Hyeok swung his wooden sword down like lightning.
KABOOM!
A deafening roar like a thunderbolt cannon exploding.
Cheongin's pupils shook.
In an instant, Namgung Hyeok's wooden sword was embedded in his crown like a stake.
"Guh... guhuh..."
The searing sword energy pouring from his wooden sword melted away like snow, his mouth gaping wider as drool dripped.
Thud!
Cheongin collapsed to the ground.
". . ."
". . ."
A deathly silence fell over the once-rowdy arena.
Crackle, rumble.
The oblivious Thunderclap Barrier Force belatedly erupted from Namgung Hyeok's wooden sword.
Namgung Hyeok slung the wooden sword back over his shoulder with a grin.
His gaze turned toward Paeng Junghyeok.
"Strongest?"
Still just a later-generation disciple, punk.