Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Tang Clan Branch (5)
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“Huh...”
A glint flashed in the eyes of the man seated at the head of the platform.
His name was Ultimate Blade Sovereign Peng Mu-geuk.
The current head of the Hebei Peng Clan and a saber arts prodigy known throughout the murim world as having no equal with the blade.
"Impressive."
He marveled at the utterly shattered floor of the sparring arena.
Qi fundamentally carried a heavy nature, so it didn't easily settle into light materials.
But metals like iron had high density, allowing qi to stably take root—which was why most weapons were made of metal.
Yet look at that crude fishing rod.
A bamboo pole pieced together like linked segments was light and hollow, so qi would naturally slip right out.
Moreover, the joints were full of gaps where qi could scatter, making it the worst material imaginable for channeling qi.
That wasn't all.
Gathering qi into sword qi and unleashing it was something any peak master could do.
But Cheongun had momentarily separated the sword qi gathered at the rod's tip right before impact.
He detonated part of it as a shockwave while keeping the rest intact, applying just the right amount of power.
Controlling a single mass of qi in two directions at once was like splitting a stream of water and directing it at different strengths.
It was utterly impossible without innately exceptional qi sense.
In that regard, this boy Cheongun was truly a once-in-centuries genius.
Peng Mu-geuk blankly watched Cheongun declare victory and trudge out of the sparring arena.
He was so stunned by the qi technique Cheongun had displayed that his mouth hung slightly open.
The other sect leaders, clan heads, and elders seated beside him were the same.
They couldn't tear their eyes away from Cheongun's retreating figure.
At that moment, the woman sitting right beside him spoke up.
"...What sect is that boy Cheongun from?"
Beautiful Moon Abbess Seo Jeong-ah.
Peng Mu-geuk's eyebrow twitched at the words of the Emei Sect's current leader.
"No idea. But the name rings a bell. I recall the Sword Sovereign recently took in a new disciple named Cheongun."
"But he didn't even use a sword?"
"That's why I said I don't know. Cheongun isn't that rare a name anyway. Jeez. A fishing rod, of all things. Utterly ridiculous."
"I agree. He swung it around like a club."
At those words, Elder No Gwang of the Beggars' Gang, who had been watching from the side, snorted.
"You saw it right. No idea where he learned it, but he perfectly embodied the essence of Striking the Head with a Staff."
"What's that?"
"The basic form of staff arts that smacks the opponent's occiput."
"......"
That's a form?
Absurd as it was, Seo Jeong-ah managed to keep her expression neutral.
Then, Tang So-ha, an elder of the Tang Clan seated beside her, spoke up.
"They say in the preliminaries, he used the fishing line to slice a slate in two like it was nothing."
"Huh! At that level, it's less a staff and more a silk sword."
"The way he whipped the rod around makes it more like an iron whip."
"With that sharpened tip, it looked like a spear too..."
The people on the platform fell into confusion.
They had roamed the jianghu and seen countless weapons, but they'd never heard of anyone wielding a fishing rod in combat.
Then, the Justice Alliance Leader Geum Myeongju, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke.
"A fishing rod as a weapon. A rare esoteric tool sometimes used by hidden hermits by the riverside."
It was true.
Geum Myeongju had never seen one himself, but he'd glimpsed a mention of it in a murim secret history recording ancient eras.
Still, Seo Jeong-ah clicked her tongue, clearly dissatisfied.
"Fishing rod or whatever, it doesn't sit right with me. A sacred sparring match, and he brings a fishing rod? Isn't that too disrespectful to his opponent?"
"What can we do? It doesn't violate any rules."
"I fully agree with Sect Leader Seo's point. Losing a spar is humiliating enough, but to fall to some bizarre weapon like that?"
"Indeed. And he's got a perfectly good sword at his waist. Can we really say there's no intent to mock his opponent?"
The sparring tournament was a competition for the younger generation to test their martial arts.
This time, their own disciples were participating too.
It was fine if the disciples lost.
One could always learn from defeat.
But getting knocked out by some lunatic with a fishing rod? That was another story entirely.
How many people were watching the spars!
Such a one-sided defeat offered nothing to learn—just pure humiliation.
And on top of the sorrow of defeat, passing out from a smack to the back of the head with a fishing rod? The shame would be indescribable.
Utterly pointless harm.
But one person among them thought differently.
None other than Peng Clan head Peng Mu-geuk.
He asked the Alliance Leader.
"Alliance Leader."
"Speak."
"I'd like to take that boy Cheongun as my disciple."
The air froze at his words.
Before the Alliance Leader could respond, Seo Jeong-ah raised her voice.
"What do you mean by that? Take him as a disciple?"
"Exactly what I said. To reach that level before even twenty? It's heaven-sent talent, isn't it? And we all saw it earlier—splitting his sword qi on the fly to control his power. His qi control is nothing short of miraculous. His inner energy feels pure too, far from any demonic arts. Honestly, he's a talent I covet."
"...You're serious?"
"I don't speak with a forked tongue."
He meant it.
Frankly, Cheongun's bizarre behavior, speech, and the nature of the tournament had made him uncomfortable.
No matter how precious young talents were in the jianghu, if they weren't family, they didn't matter.
But what if he were family?
That kid knocking out his opponent in one hit?
Not an insult—a boast.
His weird mannerisms and speech?
Strong guys get a pass.
I am right, others are wrong.
Perhaps because of that.
The mood began to heat up with Peng Mu-geuk's new perspective.
Justice Alliance Leader Geum Myeongju chuckled wryly at the sight.
They couldn't even welcome a new master's birth and were acting like this—pathetic.
Above all, it was awkward.
The reason was.
"You're all mistaken about something."
Their heads turned toward the Alliance Leader's words.
"That boy already has a sect."
Peng Mu-geuk nodded.
He was participating in the Tang Clan branch event, so of course he had a sect.
But it didn't matter.
He didn't seem to practice any unique sect arts, and using a fishing rod as a weapon meant his sect was probably nothing special.
Just pay the right price and bring him into their own sect.
But.
"His master is the Sword Sovereign."
"......The Sword Sovereign?"
"Crimson Night Sword Sovereign Jin Mu-seong. He's the boy's master."
"......"
Cheongun leaped through space with lightness skill, bounding forward in rapid flashes.
His speed was tremendous.
The reason was that there were still several days until his next match, and there was something he absolutely had to do before winning the tournament.
It was none other than the sparring bets.
Wherever humans gathered, gambling had existed across eras and ages without fail.
Desire rolled hand-in-hand with money, making gambling humanity's eternal companion.
Thus, Cheongun too had to throw himself into revitalizing the Central Plains' economy.
Above all, Cheongun knew who would win this tournament.
None other than himself.
At that moment, Peng Cheon-wi, following behind him, shouted.
"Young hero! Where on earth are you going?"
"To gamble."
"Pardon? Gambling?"
"Yeah."
Peng Cheon-wi was slightly flustered.
In this situation, gambling could only mean the sparring bets.
But still, gambling?
It wasn't illegal, but for an upright faction's rising star devoted to martial arts, wasn't it something to strictly avoid!
"Young hero! How could you stoop to such things!"
"You do it too. Money comes out."
"Pardon?"
"Shut up and follow."
Cheongun accelerated.
Peng Cheon-wi raised his inner energy to match Cheongun's sudden burst of speed.
Mo Yong-jin, trailing behind, grumbled as he sped up too.
"Isn't super-fast lightness skill cheating?"
"I'm an expert."
The lightness skills they practiced were plenty impressive in their own right.
But Cheongun's was on another level entirely.
After running for a good while, Cheongun slowed down.
An inn appeared ahead, just off a bustling street teeming with people.
It looked like an ordinary inn from outside, but lively clamor poured out from deep within.
Cheongun pushed open the heavy wooden door and entered.
Inside was as chaotic as expected.
People crowded every seat, betting on sparring outcomes, while on one side, many huddled around the tournament bracket, chattering away.
Cheongun naturally headed toward the betting counter inside.
Then he stopped dead.
Familiar faces stood at the counter.
Among them, a man with a conspicuously shiny bald head met Cheongun's eyes.
"Young hero?"
Geum Myeongju's direct disciple, the monk Bang Jong-dae.
And at the same time, his eyes met those of the woman standing behind him.
"Junior Brother Cheong!"
The Namgung Clan's golden flower.
Namgung Yeol.