“I Don't Listen to the Words of Those Weaker Than Me!”
Han Kangsu laid bare his past conviction. After going through all sorts of ordeals, such foolish beliefs had long since vanished from his mind. But he'd deliberately shouted it out to throw Park Gi-hyeon's barking back in his face.
“Y-you bastard?!”
Park Gi-hyeon's face flushed red with venomous rage.
Han Kangsu smirked.
“Then let's begin. Considering the gap in our skills, I'll yield the first move to you.”
Park Gi-hyeon charged at him. He planned to thrash the kid so badly he'd never act cocky again.
Yang Yong-jun curled his lips upward. No matter how talented Han Kangsu was, he couldn't beat Park Gi-hyeon, who had two years of experience under his belt.
'The match will end quickly.'
But things unfolded in a direction Yang Yong-jun hadn't anticipated.
Tak!
Han Kangsu took a single step back, displaying fluid swordsmanship. He lightly tapped the tip of his wooden sword against Park Gi-hyeon's blade, altering its trajectory.
Whoosh.
Pivoting on his heel, he spun half a turn and swung his wooden sword again.
“Huh?”
Park Gi-hyeon didn't even realize how his attack had gone astray. It just naturally veered off course. By the time he snapped to his senses, Han Kangsu's wooden sword was right in front of his eyes.
Thwack!!
With a crisp sound, Park Gi-hyeon's head snapped back. The wooden sword had struck his head squarely.
“Argh!”
Park Gi-hyeon screamed and tumbled to the ground.
The skill gap was too vast.
Han Kangsu smirked and urged him to surrender.
“Admit your defeat.”
“What!?”
“Surrender now, and you won't end up in a pathetic state.”
This was a clear warning.
Park Gi-hyeon's lips trembled as he sprang to his feet.
“I haven't lost! Let's go again!!”
The guy bellowed once more.
Han Kangsu, as if he'd expected as much, steadied his sword stance.
“Hoo.”
A calm breath escaped his lips, his demeanor almost noble.
Booong.
Park Gi-hyeon swung his wooden sword again. It was fast. Thinking slowness would invite a counter, he'd accelerated even more. A sharp thrust came barreling in.
Han Kangsu watched the attack with leisure. It even felt a bit empty somewhere.
He took a step forward and began swinging his wooden sword. His movements were graceful, like dancing alone, exuding a refreshing yet hollow aura that created an enigmatic atmosphere.
The motions themselves were slow. But predicting their path was impossible. The wooden sword traced elegant circles without breaking, its irregular flow utterly unpredictable.
Park Gi-hyeon's fastest thrust was blocked in an instant. No—more precisely, it missed.
Han Kangsu's wooden sword had nudged it off course again. Lightly, as before.
It was bizarre. How could such soft, languid swordplay so effortlessly deflect a sharp, rapid assault?
'What the hell is this?!'
Yang Yong-jun, watching the scene, gaped in shock.
It was profoundly intricate swordsmanship.
Thwack!!
Han Kangsu's wooden sword struck Park Gi-hyeon's jaw. And it didn't end there.
Without pause, he battered the man relentlessly with his wooden sword. Head, shoulders, shins. Every part got mercilessly thrashed.
Park Gi-hyeon tried to counterattack, but his strikes kept missing, leaving him open to even more hits.
Han Kangsu's blows landed with tremendous weight. Park Gi-hyeon's legs shook violently, but he barely stayed upright. Still, it wouldn't be long before he collapsed.
Blood trickled from his mouth—probably from that solid hit to the jaw earlier.
He dropped to his knees.
“H-ha! I surrender! Spare me. I was wrong.”
Park Gi-hyeon surrendered quickly, convinced he'd die otherwise.
Han Kangsu chuckled.
“See? You should've surrendered earlier. Before things got this ugly.”
“……”
Park Gi-hyeon hung his head.
Han Kangsu leaned in close to his ear and whispered.
“If you ever act this rude in front of our guild master again, it'll be worse than this.”
Park Gi-hyeon's face turned pale at the words.
Han Kangsu descended from the sparring arena with a satisfied expression and leaned against the wall.
“Well done.”
Nam Gyuil praised him curtly.
Han Kangsu bowed his head.
“Thank you.”
“Your swordsmanship has improved a lot.”
“I'm still far from perfect. Ideally, I should use the enemy's offense to counterattack, but right now, I can only make their attacks miss.”
Han Kangsu replied modestly, as if the road ahead was long.
Nam Gyuil found the attitude commendable. It gave him confidence that the young man would grow rapidly.
The defeated Park Gi-hyeon slunk over to Yang Yong-jun with his head bowed.
Slap!
Yang Yong-jun backhanded him across the cheek.
“Not only do you lose, but you kneel and beg? Don't disgrace the Unha Guild like that.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Get your resignation ready when we get back.”
Park Gi-hyeon flinched, started to protest something, but cowered under Yang Yong-jun's fierce glare and dropped his head.
With a look like the world had ended, he replied.
“Understood.”
And so, the first match ended in victory for Public Guild.
Now it was time for the second.
Yang Yong-jun nodded to a burly man. It meant you're up.
The man nodded back, grabbed his wooden sword, and stepped into the arena.
His build was massive—easily over two meters tall. The sheer intimidation was overwhelming.
His name was Lee Jae-sang. A four-year veteran hunter whose skills were proven even within Unha Guild.
Lee Chanu gawked at the man's size inwardly.
'Whoa, what'd he eat to get that big?'
Lee Chanu shrank back. He was actually 169cm but insisted on 170cm thanks to insoles—this guy was a whole different league.
If they fought, he'd lose in ten seconds flat.
Nam Gyuil eyed Lee Jae-sang's bulk and calmly called out.
“Chanu.”
“Yeah, hyung?”
“You're up for this one.”
Lee Chanu blinked like he'd misheard.
“Hyung, what'd you say?”
“Get in there.”
Lee Chanu grabbed Nam Gyuil's sleeve.
“You want me to fight that giant? Hyung, you crazy? Ten seconds and my head's cracked open on the floor!”
“Move your feet hard enough, and your head stays intact.”
Nam Gyuil spoke with utter conviction.
But Lee Chanu whined and shook his head.
“You say that 'cause you don't get me! Wait, is this 'cause I keep asking you to buy meals? I'll buy this time, forgive me!”
“You little punk!!”
Nam Gyuil smacked the back of Lee Chanu's head.
“Kek.”
Lee Chanu yelped. He'd bitten his tongue mid-rant.
Nam Gyuil sighed in exasperation.
“Every time I see you, I realize you've got a real talent for earning a beating.”
“Does that mean you gotta hit me?!”
Nam Gyuil placed a hand on Lee Chanu's shoulder.
“You will not lose.”
“How do you know, hyung?”
“If you can't trust yourself, trust the guy who trained you.”
Nam Gyuil shoved Lee Chanu's back hard, sending him stumbling into the arena.
The smack echoed loudly.
Lee Chanu twitched and reluctantly climbed up.
Thus, the second match began.
Lee Jae-sang assumed his stance. His massive frame shifted his center of gravity forward.
Lee Chanu's limbs stiffened.
'How am I supposed to beat that? I'm headed straight to the hospital.'
Thud thud.
Lee Jae-sang charged, leading with his bulk. The pressure was immense. Each step thundered against the floor.
Lee Chanu was terrified.
“Argh!”
He screamed and darted sideways swiftly.
Whoosh.
Lee Jae-sang's attack missed, slicing empty air futilely.
“Tch, slippery like a rat…”
Lee Jae-sang clicked his tongue and pressed the assault.
Lee Chanu kept dodging. Left, right—razor-thin margins each time.
After evading over ten times, fear gave way to doubt.
'What's this? It's... doable?'
Lee Jae-sang's attacks were fierce but slow—easy to avoid.
Then, memories flooded in: days drilling Nangong clan's Heavenly Palace Footwork nonstop.
'No way... is this the training paying off?'
Lee Chanu, who'd honed Nangong footwork. He hadn't mastered it fully, but this level was plenty.
Earth's sword arts were leagues below murim anyway.
Lee Chanu gripped his wooden sword tight.
This time, he went on the offensive.
His movements were lightning-quick. The flashy footwork amplified his speed, accelerating his strike.
Thwack-!
Lee Jae-sang's side took a direct hit. Burning pain flared.
“Damn it.”
A curse escaped his lips. His face twisted in agony.
Lee Chanu realized something profound.
'Oh... I'm strong.'
A week of Nangong footwork created this gap.
He recalled Nam Gyuil's words.
'If you can't trust yourself, trust the hyung who trained you.'
Time to give it a shot. The training was legit, after all.
Lee Chanu fought with footwork leading. He still had much to learn, so his swings lacked sharpness.
But his speed cornered the opponent relentlessly.
“You bastard!”
Lee Jae-sang, getting pummeled, cursed and counterattacked.
To him, Lee Chanu looked like he was prancing around playfully. The subtleties of Nangong footwork escaped him entirely.
Lee Jae-sang swung hard again, but Lee Chanu sidestepped effortlessly.
“Wh-what?!”
The man faltered. His powerful swing had overextended him.
He glared at Lee Chanu, who grinned mockingly—a smile that stoked peculiar rage.
Thwack!
Lee Chanu swung with full force.
“Guhk.”
Lee Jae-sang's nose exploded in blood as his head whipped sideways. It hurt like hell. Blood clogged his nostrils, muffling his cry.
He collapsed, too pained to even hold his wooden sword.
Lee Chanu raised one hand triumphantly toward the fallen foe.
Victory pose.
Lee Jae-sang couldn't even stand.
A flawless win.
Public Guild took the second match too.
Yang Yong-jun ground his teeth. Another loss bruised his pride.
'That idiot Lee Jae-sang! Losing so pathetically. He's fired too when we get back.'
His expression hardened. Already 0-2. A three-peat would leave him too ashamed to return to Unha Guild.
He had to win the third.
So he played his ace.
'Guess I have no choice but to go myself. To think I'd suffer like this because of these incompetents.'
Yang Yong-jun stepped into the arena, wooden sword in hand.
Nam Gyuil watched him ascend.
Yang Yong-jun was an executive. He could wield sword aura too.
Sending underlings would just get them injured and defeated.
Time for him to step up.
Nam Gyuil grabbed his wooden sword and entered the arena.
Yang Yong-jun feigned nonchalance.
“Public Guild's master himself? It'll be tough for you to face me.”
“I don't wanna drag this to a fourth match. Let's end it here.”
Nam Gyuil spoke plainly.
Yang Yong-jun scowled.
“Overconfident, aren't you?”
“Hahaha. Nah, this is just the confidence of the strong.”
Nam Gyuil parried leisurely.
Enraged, Yang Yong-jun's face mottled red and blue as he assumed his stance.
Nam Gyuil readied himself as well.
'Unha Guild, once this spar ends, I'll make sure you never pull this crap again.'
He was already plotting post-match countermeasures against Unha Guild.