The Appearance of the Divine Dragon
The term Divine Dragon referred to a true dragon that had finally put an end to its long life as an imugi and ascended to the heavens. It was also an expression of respect for the shining new star who would claim victory at the Hidden Dragon Tournament.
The problem was that in all of Murim’s long history, no woman had ever won the title.
That was where the debate naturally began.
By tradition, a dragon symbolized a man, while a woman was represented by the phoenix. Wasn’t that why the young elites of the Righteous Faction were called the Dragons and Phoenixes? Therefore, the title that should be given to a disciple of the Sinnyeo Sect was not Divine Dragon, but Divine Phoenix.
Then someone at the next table would immediately object.
Or, as birds of a feather flock together, once a whole table reached a dramatic consensus of “Yes, Divine Phoenix is correct, indeed,” a counterargument would fly in from the neighboring table.
Still, didn’t “Divine Phoenix” sound a little off? There had never been a junior title like that in the history of the Gangho.
At that point, opinions would split again.
The feminine form of Divine Dragon should obviously be Young Phoenix, or Phoenix Chick. Or, since there was no distinction of man and woman among martial artists, it was only proper to follow long tradition and simply call her Divine Dragon.
Thanks to all this, there was not a single spot in the entire city of Kaifeng where a fight hadn’t broken out.
The one point everyone agreed on, however, was the prediction that a disciple of the Sinnyeo Sect would win the tournament.
After all, hadn’t she already defeated Shaolin?
The martial prowess of the Gongson Clan’s woman, who had exchanged a high-level match with the Jade Qilin, was certainly astonishing. But Cheong was a swordswoman who had crushed Shaolin with her bare fists.
It was common sense—something even a newborn baby realized inside its mother’s womb—that wielding a weapon made one far stronger than fighting bare-handed.
Yet the fact that she had defeated Shaolin, which boasted the greatest fist techniques under the heavens, using only her fists, was proof that her achievements with the sword must be even greater.
And so everyone was in an absolute frenzy trying to come up with a fitting nickname.
One might scoff and ask what the big deal was about inventing a mere nickname, but if a truly excellent word gained everyone’s sympathy, it would spread far and wide as an unofficial title.
How many martial artists had multiple such nicknames? If the title one created became widely used, it became something to brag about for generations. The people of the Central Plains, who took great pride in such things, were not about to miss this golden opportunity.
They say she’s a beautiful woman. How about West Lake Sword?
West Lake Sword? That’s so lame.
Then how about West Lake Divine Sword?
Why do we have to attach West Lake to it?
I think Three-Headed Divine Dragon sounds good.
Three-Headed Divine Dragon? Why would a dragon have three heads—ah, I see. Three heads. Then it should be Three-Headed Phoenix Chick. Why use dragon?
It’s understandable, but if you call it a dragon or phoenix with three heads, wouldn’t that just make it a monster?
Since she’s a new beauty, shouldn’t she be one of the Six Flowers of Murim?
Then it should be Divine Dragon Sword Flower.
But then there would be two Sword Flowers.
Then how about Divine Dragon Divine Flower?
Hmm. You know what? Instead of trying to make a nickname, you should just sit quietly and listen.
However, if Seomun Su-rin had heard the direction these nickname discussions were taking, she would have been absolutely furious.
There was no praise for her divine power—only talk of her being a beauty or having big breasts. In the end, it revealed the underlying rotten mindset of the Gangho: no matter how strong a woman was, what was the point?
And so, on the day of the finals, when Cheong elegantly soared into the air and landed lightly on the stage, countless cheers poured down on her.
The volume was far louder than when the Shaolin disciple had appeared. It was truly the greatest roar on earth, as if the heavens and earth themselves were shaking.
Using her transcendent hearing, Cheong caught a few of the shouts.
Pa-Pae. The word meant “the greatest wave,” and was used to refer to a woman with large breasts. It was something Cheong had heard quite often during her beggar days.
In the Central Plains, having large breasts was not considered a good thing, so the term carried a similar meaning to “you pig.”
In truth, even in Cheong’s original world, the practice of calling big-breasted women “cows” was relatively recent. Across both East and West, the derogatory term for women with large breasts was “pig.” It was a word with deep roots.
And since large-breasted women were looked down upon in the Central Plains, they became “pig girls.”
However, the term “flower pig” was something else entirely. It was the most affectionate way for people of the Central Plains to address their lovers—or, in other words, the single most cringeworthy expression of love.
It carried the meaning of “even though your breasts are big, I still love you.” One could say that the phrase “Flower Pig Beauty” was packed full of the Central Plains people’s sense of humor.
It was an absolutely shitty sense of humor.
Of course, not everyone was singing the same breast-themed song.
“Mountain Moving Comrade! She pulls up mountains and flips the earth!”
“Xiang Yu Fairy…”
Cheong wondered if “fairy” could even be attached after the name of Xiang Yu. It seemed the impression of her monstrous strength—grabbing Shaolin monks by the wrist and swinging them around—had left a deep mark.
“The Greatest Beauty Under Heaven” felt a bit much. There were so many pretty people in the world; it was embarrassing.
“Sword Empress Beauty.” They were already calling her Sword Empress…
The cheers were directed entirely at her. The tingling sensation in her chest made her think, Hmm. This isn’t so bad.
Still, they should calm down a little.
Cheong raised her hand to quiet the audience.
When Gongson Yoye appeared afterward, the cheers were noticeably smaller. It was incredibly awkward.
Still, it seemed she had earned a rather splendid nickname. Heonwon Xuanwu? What is that? Why does it sound so cool?
“Lady Seomun. You haven’t forgotten my request, have you?”
“Yeah. I don’t really get it, but… I’ll do it with all my heart.”
She had racked her brain hard the entire day yesterday and today, but she still didn’t really understand.
Did she have to look like she was trying to kill her for it to count as sincere?
“Then…”
Gongson Yoye gave a light bow, then raised the longsword she held tightly with both hands high into the air.
A massive shadow of a blade fell over them.
It was a thick sword shadow that split Cheong’s face vertically. An enormous sword qi that seemed to divide the sky itself soared endlessly upward, spreading out grandly.
The immense power contained within it made Cheong grit her teeth.
So this is the real Heonwon Sword that consumes one’s lifespan.
In response, the highest output of sword qi bloomed from Cheong’s own blade.
It swelled up larger than a greatsword—Cheong’s special Sword Qi Transcendence.
Gongson Yoye’s sword, stretched out to the length of one zhang, and Cheong’s widened sword qi greatsword collided with a thunderous bang.
A pressure far stronger than anything she had felt from the simple Mount Tai Press technique came crashing down.
The pulsing, throbbing sword qi. The mighty power drawn by burning life itself.
Ha. I really am completely screwed.
In truth, she had been underestimating Gongson Yoye. She had thought she would win anyway, so she had been caught off guard and pushed back hard in just one exchange.
But wasn’t that completely cheating? What kind of sword could stretch like that? And if you swung a one-zhang blade, just how wide was the attack range supposed to be?
A longer sword meant longer reach. And when swung from the center of the body, the speed at the tip was like a ray of light, drawing not a line but a surface as it rushed forward.
Is this how a martial artist feels when facing a swordsman? I need to close the distance, but how?
As if the first strike had only been a taste, a horizontal slash that occupied the space itself followed.
Even if one blocked the weightless sword qi, it wouldn’t bounce back. It simply pressed forward relentlessly, applying pressure.
Gongson Yoye’s sword qi was the color of the Emperor— a noble hue dyed between crimson and violet with precious pigments.
Cheong pushed her straight-line sword qi to the right to block it and took a step forward.
With a strange scraping sound of qi against qi, sparks of sword qi scattered wildly in all directions, racing in a straight line along the blade toward Gongson Yoye.
Then, suddenly, the pressure against her sword vanished cleanly.
Gongson Yoye’s sword had shrunk, shortening the qi and breaking the contact.
Cheong’s sword, which had been pushing with force, sliced through empty air. Her body, which had been leaning forward, staggered.
Gongson Yoye’s sword changed from a line to a point. It was a thrust aimed directly at Cheong.
Whether one could call a sword that simply stretched out a “thrust” was debatable.
Cheong was startled. Iron Bridge? No. It can bend downward.
The distance was still far, so Gongson Yoye’s sword was extremely free. Simply lowering it after thrusting could become a fatal vertical strike that would cut an iron bridge in half.
Cheong threw her body forward as if diving into water.
She rolled twice across the floor and sprang up, only to see the stretched sword qi chasing after her again.
Powerful true qi surged from Cheong’s Yongcheon point—the vital point located between the two bones at the ball of the foot.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Cheong’s stride lengthened dramatically as she drew a large circle, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Gongson Yoye.
She spiraled inward, gradually closing the distance toward the center where Gongson Yoye stood.
The sword qi that had been spinning after Cheong suddenly vanished.
As if telling her to stop running and come already, Gongson Yoye lightly planted the tip of her sword on the floor and stood leaning on it like a cane.
Cheong answered the call.
Void-Piercing Instant Movement—the supreme footwork that was practically the entirety of the Divine Thief’s art—unfolded. In an instant, Gongson Yoye’s entire body expanded in Cheong’s vision until only her upper body filled it.
Just as Cheong was about to unleash a technique from the Sinnyeo Sword—
Suddenly, she felt a strange flow of air against her face and the skin of her hands.
Cheong slammed her heel down on the stage with a boom! The floor shattered and wooden splinters flew up in a brutish stomp.
Her body shot backward like an arrow.
And from high in the air, she saw a loose net wrapping around Gongson Yoye.
The trajectories drawn by the sword qi covered all directions, unfolding into the shape of a net.
Whoa. Awakening Divine Art. This thing actually works pretty well.
But what the hell was that technique?
In martial arts, once one reached a certain level, there came a point where it touched upon philosophy. Beyond simply swinging a blade—fast, slow, strong, soft—it was a miracle of bringing forth the “sword of the heart” that an individual had defined and presenting it to the world.
If Cheong were to name Gongson Yoye’s technique, it would be something like “Instant Kill Wild Swing.”
Yet each individual slash carried the profound principle of extreme power, using immense force to drive speed and surround the opponent.
The net of sword qi that had spread out in all directions and bloomed like a rose suddenly vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.
Gongson Yoye smiled faintly and spoke.
“Lady Seomun. You won’t be able to overwhelm me with sheer pressure like you did with Monk Wolbong. That… honestly wasn’t martial arts, was it? You simply used your innate strength and senses to intimidate. So please, don’t do that. Will you show me your true sincerity?”
“I… I don’t really understand this ‘sincerity’ thing. Everything I’ve learned is martial arts meant for slaughter. Does that mean I have to use killing techniques for it to count as sincere?”
“That… I wouldn’t know. After all, Lady Seomun must have her own martial philosophy.”
“My own martial philosophy…”
A sword was a tool for cutting. When one considered the history of humanity, wasn’t that the case? Or was it a ritual tool? Or a symbol of power? Was there really any depth worthy of being called a “philosophy” in that?
“Now. This time, I will take the initiative.”
Thud!
The sound of her stepping forward was sharp.
Gongson Yoye’s speed was no joke. It was completely different from what she had shown during their sparring. As expected, it must be the firepower gained by burning her Innate Qi.
The longer the fight dragged on, the more her lifespan would continue to be consumed.
In that case, it seemed better to end it quickly, even if it meant using killing techniques.
Cheong’s aura changed completely.
Her left hand flowed out smoothly. A majestic toll of a temple bell rang out—deeeeng.
However, the result was miserable.
A massive handprint of the Buddha was stamped deeply into the hard wooden floor of the stage.
The Shaolin monks who had been watching shot to their feet and simultaneously chanted the name of the Buddha’s Palm.
But as if she had already anticipated it, Gongson Yoye had already slipped beneath Cheong.
Damn, she could move even faster!
The tip of Cheong’s sword shot straight toward Gongson Yoye’s neck.
Then, the back of a hand pushed the flat of the blade away. Gongson Yoye’s left hand was not idle either.
Cheong twisted her sword, as if to cut off the hand that dared touch her blade.
But an auspicious-colored inner energy rose, and with a small explosive bang, Cheong’s sword was sent flying far away.
Gongson Yoye turned the blade outward, raised it high, and swung the pommel like a hammer toward Cheong’s temple.
In that instant, Cheong’s eyes flashed.
Kwaaaang!
With the sound of thunder, the sunset-colored true qi of the Juyang Mind Heart Sutra erupted.
Crack!
Along with the brutal sound of bone being struck, Gongson Yoye’s shoulder was violently knocked away.
It was the defensive lightning of the Purple Lightning Magic—one of the Ten Great Demonic Arts.
Hmm. I thought it might work, and it actually did.
It was thanks to the sharply honed senses granted by the Awakening Divine Art.
Because the flow of the air felt sharper against her skin than usual, she had judged that she might be able to control the Purple Lightning Magic.
Even if she couldn’t control it, it would have just hit somewhere else, but since it had struck the shoulder she had been aiming for, she felt rather pleased.
But was it okay to use this so casually?
Whatever. She didn’t care anymore.
They said to show sincerity, didn’t they?
Her master had also said that if she insisted hard enough, it would be fine.
It wasn’t purple, it was sunset-colored, so if she insisted it was the Juyang True Body Art or something instead of a Demonic Art, that should work, right?
Cheong grinned ferociously.