Half-Killing Doryeonnim
As Namgoong Juhee swallowed hard, Hwangbo Un's fist came flying at her.
Her impression upon seeing that punch?
Hmm... He's definitely been training hard. Pretty fast.
But was it fast compared to a martial artist? Not really.
She had already bisected Kang Musa, one of the Top 100 Masters in the world.
And right now, her body was even stronger— she just hadn't been training.
So, whoosh.
Namgoong Juhee lightly sidestepped.
With that one casual movement, Hwangbo Un's stance wobbled—whoa! Just as expected. Training has its limits, after all.
"What? That's all you've got?"
Instead of drawing her sword, Namgoong Juhee lifted her leg.
And—thwack!
She drove her knee straight into Hwangbo Un's solar plexus.
It was an attack that would shatter the dantian of anyone below the Peak realm, and even a Peak expert would be gasping for air for dozens of minutes.
"...Got you."
"Huh?"
Hwangbo Un grinned, and that's when Namgoong Juhee realized.
Ah, this crazy bastard deliberately left an opening.
It was her usual trick.
"Hraaaah!"
Hwangbo Un grabbed her leg and spun her around in a massive whirl.
The technique commonly called the Windmill— infamous for its devastating power that could shatter the opponent's semicircular canals.
He spun and spun for a good while... then—boom!
Namgoong Juhee's body slammed into the ground.
The crowd stared into the thick cloud of dust.
"What? Is she dead?"
"Looks like it."
"Should we call the Sect Leader?"
"Cough!"
A cough echoed from the dust, and a woman's silhouette emerged.
Liquid dripped from that silhouette, leaving the onlookers aghast.
And for good reason. Sparring was meant for learning and appreciating each other's techniques.
You had to warn your opponent before using dangerous moves, and injuring them was taboo.
But these two? It looked more like a life-or-death duel.
No hesitation in using killing blows, and Hwangbo Un had even inflicted serious injury.
How could they not be shocked?
"Whew... okay. You got me good. Grown a lot, huh?"
"It seems Namgung Sojeo has made great strides in stamina as well."
"Good. Shall we keep going?"
"Just what I hoped for."
Namgoong Juhee and Hwangbo Un exchanged words as if it were the most natural thing.
That was just how they were.
Namgoong Juhee couldn't get enough of anything fun. She hated boring stuff.
Sparring was basically physical studying, which she loathed.
That's why she turned it into a deathmatch.
Hwangbo Un had read her intent and matched it.
From the start, she'd thrown feints and killing blows like crazy, so he figured he had to go all out too.
Part of him wanted to truly test himself against her.
And so, deadly sword and fists flew at each other.
"Whoa! Emperor Sword Form! That young lady's using Namgoong techniques— she must be from the Namgoong Clan!"
"Ooh, Thunderbolt Divine Fist! As expected of Hwangbo young master! That power and might are no joke!"
The Yeonhwa Sect disciples watching were thrilled.
The Central Plains' martial world entertainment usually amounted to pitting crickets against each other or imagining fights between sword-wielding Peng Clan heads and fist-using Moyong Clan heads.
But flashy techniques clashing right in front of them? It was pure madness, cheers erupting like a modern baseball stadium.
About an hour passed like that.
With a slash, the outcome was decided.
"Looks like your training's still lacking, Doryeonnim?"
Namgoong Juhee held her wooden sword to Hwangbo Un's neck.
And her grinning face? Pretty damn cool.
If he hadn't been panting and dry-heaving.
Namgoong Juhee had always been frail.
Even after chowing down on top elixirs lately, her base stamina was too low.
So even in victory, her body was always wrecked.
"...I lost. Impressive as always."
Hwangbo Un rarely showed his emotions so openly.
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, eyes downcast in frustration.
After training to the brink of death, he still couldn't catch up to her. Natural reaction.
"Wooooah! Namgung Sojeo!"
"So cool!"
"Namgung! Namgung! Namgung!"
The spectators— no, the audience— exploded.
Even the ones who'd dismissed the then-unknown Namgoong Juhee at first were chanting her name now. Satisfying, yet kinda inevitable since they hadn't known.
That's what Namgoong Juhee thought as she lightly turned her head.
She smiled and slowly leaned forward.
"...Man, I'm sleepy."
Thud.
And Namgoong Juhee passed out.
For a sparring victor, it was pretty unsightly.
.
.
.
"...What're you doing?"
"I was watching, Hee-ya."
"That's why I... whatever."
By cliché, when Namgoong Juhee opened her eyes, there should've been an unfamiliar ceiling.
But no— just one red-haired beauty.
Too gorgeous to be a graphic fragment.
"Ugh... my head. What time is it?"
"Around 7 to 9 a.m. You slept a full six hours."
She'd crashed hard and gotten solid rest.
Her head ached a bit, but she felt refreshed— exactly the feeling after oversleeping.
"Hee-ya, wasn't that too much?"
Hayeon pressed a hand to Juhee's forehead and pouted.
"How can you throw killing blows like that in sparring? That guy being a man makes it cowardly."
"What? Talking about me?"
"No! Hwangbo young master. You're a girl, Hee-ya."
"Nah, I'm a dude."
"Pardon?"
"Yeah."
Hayeon stared blankly for a moment before nodding in understanding.
Most of what Hee-ya said was nonsense anyway.
Just rambling again.
"You're thinking something super rude right now."
"No, no. Hee-ya, anyway— hungry?"
"Yeah... kinda."
"Then let's grab food right away? Tell that Hwangbo idiot to munch on Yeonhwa Sect's veggie scraps. We'll go for meat."
"Shouldn't we greet the Sect Leader first? We trashed the training ground— gotta say something."
Perfectly reasonable.
Hayeon gave her an incredulous look.
"Your injuries must be bad. Did you hit your head?"
"What do you take me for?"
"You're Hee-ya."
"Forget it."
Namgoong Juhee chased fun, but she wasn't manners-less.
In games, you always greeted the host before leaving. Sometimes you'd snag a fun quest.
So she threw on some clothes, picked her eye boogers, and with Hayeon pinning her hairpins, a peerless beauty appeared in the mirror.
"How are you so pretty, Hee-ya?"
"...Can't you skip the pretty part?"
"What's wrong with calling pretty what is pretty? Anyway, Hee-ya— how do I look? Pretty too, right?"
"Yeah, pretty."
Juhee answered offhandedly.
Hayeon froze.
Her already devastating face calling her pretty?
"Hey, Hayeon? Hayeon-ah?"
No response.
She wasn't in a state to reply.
"Hmm... oh well."
Namgoong Juhee left the frozen Hayeon and headed to the Sect Leader's quarters.
Greetings were something you did yourself— being told to do it was worse than nothing.
And so, to the Sect Leader's room!
The Yeonhwa Sect Leader was called Jeonggeom, the Righteous Sword.
Half praise, half mockery.
Fundamentals mattered in swordsmanship and martial arts.
They were the most stable and optimal forms.
But sticking to them in real combat? You'd get stabbed.
Opponents wouldn't let you execute perfectly, and you couldn't spam them.
That's why Jeonggeom wasn't pure praise.
Always chasing sword orthodoxy— despite talent, he ran a small sect.
"Namgoong Juhee of the Namgoong Clan greets you."
The Yeonhwa Sect Leader gazed at the bowing Namgoong Juhee.
Of course, with goodwill.
The rise of a young expert was always welcome. And one who subdued Hwangbo Un? Her skill was beyond doubt.
"Mm. Welcome. I am Yeonhwa Sect Leader Seok Ilcheong."
But his voice wasn't exactly warm.
Because Namgoong Juhee's swordplay strayed far from orthodoxy.
Generously, practical combat style. Harshly, no foundation.
Left like this, she'd fade like so many young talents.
But advising her? He'd come off like a boomer.
That dilemma colored his tone.
"Mm, Namgung Sojeo. I saw your martial display yesterday."
"Yes."
"But that swordsmanship... it deviates so much from the fundamentals."
Seok Ilcheong couldn't hold back and spoke up.
Boomers gonna boomer.
If he held back, he wouldn't be one.
"Might I take a closer look at your swordsmanship, just once?"
His voice was firm.
He'd boomer if he had to— words needed saying.
Namgoong Juhee smiled.
And thought to herself,
Good thing I came to greet. Quest popped up automatically.