Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Tang Clan Branch Tournament (4)
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...
To a martial artist, a weapon is their identity.
The beggars roaming the streets eke out a living through begging.
So, what is the most threatening presence when begging?
The packs of starving stray dogs prowling the streets.
If a beggar can't beg, they starve that day.
What choice do they have?
To avoid starving, they have no option but to beat the dogs away, declaring, "This is our turf!"
But what money do beggars have to buy proper weapons?
So they pick up discarded scraps of wood from the streets, bind them with string or rags, and fashion crude, gnarled sticks to chase off the dogs.
Enter the Dog-Beating Stick.
Exactly as the name implies—a staff for beating dogs.
It's no wonder the Beggars' Gang is renowned for staff arts, palm strikes, and fist techniques.
With nothing but their bare bodies, their martial arts naturally evolved around empty-hand combat.
Cheongun was no different.
Until he first encountered a demon, he had lived as a beggar for all that long time.
To survive, he did whatever it took, but begging was off-limits because Beggars' Gang members would interfere, claiming it as their territory, and menial labor clashed with his modern sensibilities of pride.
Thus, Cheongun chose self-sufficiency.
Among those, the most efficient was fishing.
It required little effort, passed the time well, and at least prevented starvation.
And that's not all. A fishing rod was already an excellent weapon in itself.
The bamboo shaft could serve as a staff like the Dog-Beating Stick, the sharpened tip as a spear, and the line at the end could whip like a lash while doubling as a sharp hidden weapon.
Cheongun gazed fondly at his fishing rod.
His beloved weapon that had been with him through his hardest days.
A tool carrying memories of those days when he had fallen into ancient Central Plains and survived alone.
Every time he looked at it, affection welled up.
For a martial artist, a weapon infused with memories is like a lover.
That was why he wielded the fishing rod over the Crimson Night Sword bestowed by his master.
But it held meaning only for Cheongun.
To others, he was just an eccentric swinging a fishing rod while ignoring a perfectly good sword.
"......"
"......"
Moyong Jin cautiously observed Cheongun's face as he exited the preliminary venue.
Clearly in his early twenties at most.
Anyone could see the boyish charm still lingered on his face.
Witnessing this, Moyong Jin grappled with cognitive dissonance between Cheongun's bizarre behavior and his youthful features.
'What is his true identity?'
A jade slab carved like butter by that thin fishing line?
Moreover, the massive qi condensation rippling over the line as it swung.
It was unmistakably sword qi.
But sword qi was usually manifested only at the level of heat haze, wasn't it?
This was too thick, too long, too ferocious to be mere sword qi.
And to channel such a colossal qi torrent through that razor-thin line!
It was an unprecedented, otherworldly feat.
Paeng Cheonwi whispered to Moyong Jin.
"Little brother. Is that even possible?"
"...I don't know."
"Does this even make sense? Just to be sure, I snuck a peek at his teeth too..."
"How were they?"
"White and even, exactly like a kid his age."
Masters who reached a certain realm aged little externally, so eerily youthful old experts were common.
However, teeth couldn't be hidden, so in the jianghu, dental condition distinguished old masters from the young.
"So, one of two things?"
"Either a supreme master who reverted to youth, or just a young expert."
There was a realm absolute peak martial artists reached upon enlightenment.
Forming the Three Flowers of Heaven, Earth, and Man within the body—known as Three Flowers Gathering at the Crest.
Entering this realm meant achieving the Flower Realm.
And more.
Martial artists in the Flower Realm could draw heavenly qi directly through the Hundred Convergences acupoint on the crown, and to assimilate it into inner power, their bodies transformed to suit martial arts.
This was the famed Shedding Mortality and Exchanging Bones.
From then on, they entered the ranks of absolute masters.
And there was an even higher realm: Rejuvenation in Old Age.
Unlike mere skeletal transformation, it crossed the boundary of death and life, restoring youth once.
From that point, they were no longer mere humans.
Monsters akin to immortals awaiting ascension.
Paeng Cheonwi and Moyong Jin's minds grew complicated.
What exactly was he?
His behavior screamed madman, yet his martial arts were profoundly transcendent.
That was when it happened.
—Dong!
A bell tolled loudly.
The signal for the main tournament to begin.
Paeng Cheonwi and Moyong Jin accompanied Cheongun.
They were curious about the boy named Cheongun, and Cheongun enjoyed their misconceptions and attention, so they traveled together.
The main venue featured a massive sparring hall that could hold hundreds.
In the center sat Cheongun, Paeng Cheonwi, and Moyong Jin side by side.
Paeng Cheonwi spoke up.
"Cheong Daehyeop."
"Hm?"
His address had shifted from little brother to daehyeop.
"Is Daehyeop's goal also victory?"
"That's right."
Meanwhile, Cheongun had switched from formal to casual speech.
A true master must be dignified.
Since the other used honorifics, Cheongun immediately went casual.
"How old is Cheong Daehyeop?"
Pure curiosity.
But Cheongun was stumped.
How old am I again?
Since possessing this body, he'd lived day by day without tracking years.
No resident registration in this world anyway.
Only the fact that considerable time had passed since possession remained.
So Cheongun answered vaguely.
"Curious?"
"Yes!"
"I see. Then stay curious."
"???"
At that moment, a man on the platform bellowed.
The matches would proceed, all participants must follow rules, and those showing exceptional skill would receive commensurate rewards.
Then he snapped his fingers.
Warriors in white robes rushed in, carrying a large wooden board to erect on the platform.
A list of names connected by diagonal lines like a bracket.
Moyong Jin commented.
"It's the matchup bracket."
Sure enough.
"This is the bracket for the matches!"
The man shouted again.
"Young warriors of this Tang Clan Branch Tournament! Display your skills without reservation to honor the tournament!"
The eyes of those seated sharpened.
Sparring was a clash of martial arts.
A blood-soaked battle tied to martial artists' pride, especially with their sects watching, heightening tension and drive.
Tedious explanations continued.
Soon, the man drew iron balls from a wooden box on the platform.
Then.
"Cheongun!"
Cheongun's name was called.
"Ho Yu-gang!"
His opponent's.
"Exchange greetings."
Cheongun and Ho Yu-gang ascended the platform, facing each other with clasped fists.
"Ho Yu-gang of the Ho Clan."
"Cheongun."
"...Short talker."
Cheongun replied curtly.
"Same to you."
Crunch.
Ho Yu-gang was incensed.
This unheard-of boy's speech grated on him.
Then, a presumed judge asked Cheongun.
"Where's your weapon?"
Cheongun showed the fishing rod in his hand instead of answering.
The warrior blinked.
Was this serious?
His eyes conveyed disbelief, but Cheongun nodded with a benevolent smile.
The warrior almost retorted but held back.
There were no rules specifying sparring weapons.
But Ho Yu-gang seethed with rage.
A perfectly good sword at his waist, yet a fishing rod?
Insult beyond measure.
Everything about this guy—from mounting the platform to now—irked him.
Ho Yu-gang sneered at Cheongun.
"You dare face me without a sword?"
"It's right here."
"You're insane. How is a fishing rod a sword?"
Cheongun spoke wistfully.
"When I swing it, it becomes my sword."
"..."
Is he really crazy?
Ho Yu-gang's voice rose.
"Why can't you understand 'give it your all'!"
"Well. If I go all out, your life might be in danger, so I'll hold back appropriately."
"...Are you provoking me now?"
"Provoking? Did that sting?"
Ho Yu-gang glared at Cheongun.
He had some presence, but faintly so—first-rate at best.
Hence the childish antics.
He might be concealing his power, but then his name would be known.
Yet Cheongun was definitely new.
Ho Yu-gang steeled his resolve, glaring.
Cheongun lazily swung the fishing rod in the air, full of openings.
'End it in one exchange.'
Ho Yu-gang rapidly circulated inner power from his dantian.
The moment the signal dropped, he'd settle it in one clash.
No need to conserve.
With watchers present, he'd unleash full power to crush him and shine.
Then, a black-clad warrior swept his hand down, shouting.
"Begin!"
Simultaneously.
Flash!
Ho Yu-gang kicked off, launching forward.
Onlookers gasped in admiration.
So fast his form left an afterimage.
Peak initial stage at minimum.
"!!!"
In an instant, Ho Yu-gang surged to Cheongun's feet, raising his sword.
The tip trailed sword qi in a wavy arc.
Aimed at the vital point on Cheongun's shoulder.
Ho Yu-gang's lip curled.
Full of gaps.
This would hit for sure.
He tilted the blade slantwise.
The moment he thrust at Cheongun.
—Whoosh!
Cheongun's form vanished.
Ho Yu-gang's sword sliced empty air.
And with a swish, Cheongun reappeared on Ho Yu-gang's right.
Ho Yu-gang was aghast.
When?!
He'd been watching constantly!
Then.
—Crack!
Cheongun smashed the bamboo shaft into the back of Ho Yu-gang's head.
That instant stretched torturously slow.
Shockwaves rippled from the impact like haze.
Radiating outward, brushing the surroundings.
The massive pressure tousled everyone's hair.
Finally.
Crack-crack-crack—!
Cracks spiderwebbed from Cheongun's feet.
The floor caved, fissures spreading like shattered glass.
Rumble!
The stone floor collapsed into rubble.
"Guhk..."
Ho Yu-gang fainted from the immense shock.
He didn't die.
Cheongun had precisely controlled it to knock him out.
At the moment the bamboo touched, he released condensed qi in a burst, adjusting force.
...Merely devastating the surroundings in the process.
"......"
The air froze solid.
Judges and warriors stared in shock at the unprecedented scene.
Elders from various sects on the platform sat dumbfounded.
How long did the silence last?
Cheongun, standing calmly, spoke.
"Victory. Overwhelming."
"......"