First Clash Shatters Expectations
From the very first clash, thud thud. Sa U-bi stepped forward first. His strides brimmed with confidence. His expression radiated it too. A relaxed smile played on his lips. The crowd from Haenam Island erupted in cheers at his utterly composed demeanor, showing not a hint of tension even against a formidable foe.
"As expected of the senior disciple!"
"Haenam Sword Dragon!"
"How can he exude such majesty!"
"A true hero! He'll lead not just Haenam Sect, but all of Haenam Island!"
The Haenam Sect disciples, upholding the dignity of martial artists, didn't cheer as boisterously as the locals, but their unwavering expressions revealed absolute faith in Sa U-bi. Sect Leader Heonwon-gang watched his most cherished disciple's imposing figure with a satisfied smile.
"So that's the Haenam Sword Dragon..."
"Whoa, even his aura sets him apart."
"They weren't exaggerating about Haenam Sect's future."
"To think such talent was hidden away in the southern seas. He'd hold his own anywhere in the Central Plains."
"He's biding his time, like a dragon in slumber. This duel might be his launch into the skies."
The spectators' assessments were unanimous praise. Seeing was believing, especially for a prodigy like Sa U-bi. Just watching him sent tingles of excellence rippling through their nerves.
Amid the uproar over Sa U-bi's entrance, thud thud. This time, Yu Seol-young slowly walked out. Her movements carried a strangely listless air. Frail and willowy, her body swayed like a reed in the wind, as if it might crumple at any moment. Was this truly one of the top young experts? Compared to Sa U-bi, she looked utterly feeble.
The islanders' spirits soared.
"What? Sword Peak? Is that woman really her?"
"She's intimidated. Overwhelmed by the senior disciple's presence."
"Hahaha, she looks totally deflated."
"No contest—this is the senior disciple's victory."
The Haenam Sect disciples' reactions split two ways: those who knew of Sword Peak's prowess from firsthand accounts and those who didn't. The ignorant ones smirked subtly, dismissing her as all flash and no substance riding on hyped rumors. They wore expressions of total certainty in victory. The informed ones stayed calm, knowing the foe was genuine. Still, they shared that unshakeable confidence in Sa U-bi. And one more thing: the Dragon Scale Armor. With that treasure equipped, not a shred of doubt lingered about his win.
"Hm, I had high hopes, but she doesn't live up to the hype."
"Yeah, she looks way too fragile."
"...Maybe she's hiding her power?"
"Come on, who hides their strength in a marriage duel with everything on the line?"
"Eh, you can't judge by looks. That's what masters do."
"Right, right. She's Sword Peak for a reason—not some gamble."
Unlike the glowing reviews for Sa U-bi, the crowd's take on Yu Seol-young was lukewarm. And then there was her outfit. No matter how you sliced it, it wasn't martial robes. A skirt? In a duel? Unheard of. It didn't suit combat at all.
"Wait, she's really fighting in that?"
"Is she even taking this seriously? She seems off mentally."
"Eh, it's a life-or-death marriage duel..."
"If that's her serious mode, it's even more ridiculous."
"Is she sane? What if her skirt flips up? Total humiliation for a female martial artist."
Not just for female martial artists—for any woman, that'd be mortifying.
"Well, that's... not bad."
"Y-yeah."
"..."
"Ahem. Suddenly, it looks quite appropriate."
They had no idea. No matter how hard Bang So-un and Jang Il strained their eyes, Yu Seol-young's skirt hid an absolute forbidden zone.
The atmosphere had turned bizarre regardless. Yu Seol-young shattered it herself—by drawing her sword first.
Shing. She lightly extended it diagonally forward. But that stance sparked even greater chaos in the arena. It was utterly absurd. Blade up, back down. Not even a third-rate thug would grip a sword like that. Swords were meant to cut with the edge.
"Wh-what's that stance?"
"Th-the back of the blade? Why's it facing down?"
"Wh-whoa? Sword Peak's holding her sword backward? Is she crazy?"
"W-wait! This is fraud! The duel is rigged! Someone's impersonating Sword Peak!"
"Y-yeah, fraud! Investigate that woman's identity right now!"
The spectators escalated from shock to cries of cheating. The murmurs wouldn't die down. Heonwon-gang's brows furrowed. Such noise could tarnish the significance of his prized disciple's momentous victory. As he raised a hand to signal his disciples, someone else stood first. A bear of a man—Jang Il.
Jang Il bellowed with full inner energy.
"Everyone, quiet down!"
His voice boomed like thunder—a true bear's roar. The clamor halted. Many were startled by the unexpectedly profound inner power, especially Haenam Sect disciples unaware of the shipboard events.
The Golden Dragon Battlefield master's guard—who's just about money—packs that kind of punch?
They felt the vast, ocean-like depth of the Central Plains martial world. And then.
"Wh-who are you?"
"Y-yeah, who are you to tell us to shut up?"
The fraud-shouters fired back undeterred. Jang Il replied.
"I'm not the one with words. The Golden Dragon Battlefield master, Sword Peak's guarantor, will speak."
Only then did Bang So-un rise.
"Golden Dragon Battlefield master speaking. As Sword Peak Yu's guarantor, I state clearly: baseless doubts will not be tolerated."
Shing. Bang So-un drew his sword.
"I stake everything on it—Lady Yu is Sword Peak. I'd bet my life on it."
A guarantor wagering his life. No one could doubt such a man—especially not one with as much to lose as the Golden Dragon Battlefield master.
"Ahem."
"Cough."
The spectators coughed awkwardly and slunk back to their seats. As Sword Peak's guarantor, he'd quelled the uproar swiftly and effectively. A glint of appreciation flickered in Yu Seol-young's eyes. Her estimation of him likely rose again—though that wasn't Bang So-un's intent. He'd simply acted out of disgust at the suspicion. Sword Peak didn't deserve such doubt.
His intervention benefited Haenam Sect too. Heonwon-gang's expression eased. Sa U-bi flashed a thin smile. The stage was perfectly set. All that remained was victory.
"Any stance is fine by me. I'll walk my path."
Shing. Finally, Sa U-bi drew his sword and raised it high. Haenam Sect swordsmanship's basic form: upright posture, sword held vertically before the brow. A domineering ready stance for instant offense.
"Ooh, as expected!"
"Even the form is superior!"
"Such dignity!"
Exclamations rippled out. The contrast with Yu Seol-young's bizarre pose amplified it.
With swords drawn, the two faced off in earnest. Neither moved first. But the crowd knew: an invisible battle of nerves had begun. That was the way of true masters.
Full power from the start.
Sa U-bi's eyes gleamed. Probing with half-hearted techniques was for fools. In a duel this critical, unleash the ultimate sword art immediately.
Southern Sea Thirty-Six Swords. Haenam Sect's pinnacle technique. That was the ace to play.
Hmph, won't move first, huh?
Sa U-bi coldly scanned Yu Seol-young's form. Not an aggressive stance. Likely relying on lightness skill to evade and counter. He'd anticipated that. Provoke her now? No—test with a thrust first. Gauge her reaction.
Here goes.
The Southern Sea Thirty-Six Swords comprised thirty-six forms: first ten swift swords, Middle Ten Tyrant Swords, the Latter Ten Illusory Swords, final six ultra-swift strikes. A protean art like crashing waves.
Those who dismissed Haenam as "just swift swords" crumbled at the first form—far faster than expected. Survive that? A sudden tyrant sword pulverized them. Endure? The illusory swords pinned them helpless. Even that? Few in the martial world could entertain the notion.
That was the Southern Sea Thirty-Six Swords' might. But survive to the end? A whole new realm of true swiftness struck like lightning. Done.
Sa U-bi and Heonwon-gang were convinced: perfect mastery meant few rivals under heaven. Even at ten-tenths mastery—not full—he feared no sword art in the world. Be it Huashan, Wudang, or Nangong family. Geomgak? Laughable.
Sa U-bi tensed his feet.
Swift!
The first ten forms. Swift sword essence was about to unfold from his hand.
Thud! The instant his foot hit the ground, his form shot forward like an arrow. Terrifying speed. Swift sword's foundation was footwork: seize with feet, finish with blade.
Shrieeeek! His sword tore the air. So fast, most couldn't track it—a blinding slash.
Sa U-bi's mind had already predicted Sword Peak's response.
She'll dodge. Definitely. Parrying with the flat would shatter it instantly.
Read her dodge, strike next. But.
Sword Peak's flat did move to receive his blade, defying expectations. Good? He could damage it. But.
Sa U-bi's face hardened. He felt it. The initial tactile feedback twisted unpleasantly through his hand.
Kreeeak! Not a clear clash, but a murky grind echoed in his ears.
This was.
Damn it all!
Shock flooded Sa U-bi's eyes. Deflection. He'd realized it: his thrust's power had veered off by a half-inch, dissipating harmlessly. Slight imbalance, a minor twist in his stance. But to a super-expert like Sword Peak, that tiny gap was a chasm.
Sssshk! In a blink, her flat bore down on him. No time to recover.
Thwack! It smashed his torso squarely.
"Gaaack!"
With a scream, Sa U-bi's body flew backward. From the first clash, nearly everyone's expectations lay in ruins.