Hobuk Branch Festival Chaos (1)
Hobuk Branch!
To martial artists, it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to snag a Tae Cheong Dan. To ordinary folk, it was just a festival.
Delicious food! Endless spectacles! And merchants ripping people off…?
"Mister, chicken skewers for thirty jeon each? You out of your mind?"
Namgoong Juhee's hand naturally reached for the merchant's collar.
"Th-that's not… No, I mean…"
"Not what? Come up with a good reason, or get ready. I was in a great mood until just now."
Objectively speaking, the merchant really was out of his mind.
Even ripping people off required picking the right marks.
Martial artists were the type to draw swords at the slightest provocation, so a merchant's survival hinged on spotting them accurately.
Pick wrong? Then your death wasn't homicide—it was natural causes.
In this barbaric Central Plains, picking a fight with a martial artist meant you deserved to die.
But the merchant had his grievances too.
This was the Hobuk Branch, after all—a sparring tournament for the Orthodox Faction's younger generation.
Even if you gouged them a bit, those Orthodox pricks would just spit and move on.
Who'd dare cause a scene in Wudang's front yard?
Unless they were brainless or living recklessly, conflicts were rare.
"Oh? No answer? Sword's coming out~ One, two…"
But it existed!
The brainless, reckless type!
If you turned Namgoong Juhee into a sentence, that's exactly what it'd be.
Natural disasters strike without warning, so it was truly bad luck for the merchant.
"Namgung Sojeo, couldn't hold back and started picking fights again."
"Hee-ya, let it go. Dealing with trash like that is cleaner if you do it sneakily at night."
"What? Doryeonnim. Yeon-ah. You two on a date or something?"
As a muscle-bound hunk and a red-haired beauty appeared, the killing intent radiating from Namgoong Juhee visibly faded.
Even NPCs brought her some peace of mind.
It was like chatting with an AI program—people did it all the time.
"Date…? What nonsense is that?"
"……Hee-ya, you're not about to say something weird, are you?"
"You don't know date? Like, together… that vibe? Wasn't it?"
"Who'd date a woman (man) like this!"
Hwangbo Un and Yi Hayeon bellowed in unison at Namgoong Juhee's words.
Their ferocity made her grip slacken from the merchant's collar.
A miraculous escape for him.
Though Yi Hayeon memorizing his face meant his life might not end well.
"Oh, not? Whatever then."
"……Don't even joke about it."
"My, wouldn't Young Master Hwangbo consider it an honor? Your reaction is quite offensive."
"The offended one's me. I hope something happens in this tournament so I never see you again."
Anyway.
Time flew, and it was the day of the Hobuk Branch.
The three naturally stuck together.
Hwangbo Un and Yi Hayeon snarled at each other to buzz off, but it was familiar to Namgoong Juhee.
They'd spent over seven weeks together—too awkward to split now.
But to onlookers, it wasn't natural.
Hwangbo Un and Yi Hayeon were famous.
One the Hwangbo heir, the other Eonha Merchant Group's sub-branch head.
The most renowned and promising among the younger generation—like MLB's top two draft picks walking side by side.
Thus, the Namgoong Juhee sandwiched between them became gossip fodder.
Not positively, of course.
Speculation about her being Hwangbo's future wife or Eonha's pretty maid, summed up: Who the hell is that nobody hanging with them?
"Hee-ya, want me to gather those bastards and cut out their tongues?"
"……Vulgar. Well, if Namgung Sojeo minds, I can step in and say a word."
"Huh? What?"
"No… you can't hear what those fools are saying?"
"Yeah, I hear 'em. Don't care?"
Namgoong Juhee's nonchalance made the gossipers seethe.
A perfect what're you gonna do about it? attitude.
She never gave a damn about others' opinions.
It was almost enough to wish she showed a little restraint.
And this reaction was routine for her.
In games, extras blabbered like that before the protagonist showed up.
The catharsis of flipping the script was no joke.
Namgoong Juhee just enjoyed the process.
"……If Namgung Sojeo says so, I won't press."
"Hehe, me too."
"Mm-hmm, yeah. Ignore that crap. You two checked the brackets earlier, right? Know your opponents?"
"Mm… obviously, ours were nobodies."
"Yes, no one at the Peak realm like us could lose."
Namgoong Juhee caught their implication.
Using "ours" and "us" excluded her—meaning her opponent was no pushover.
"Who's mine?"
"Cheongjin, young master of Wudang. One of their two Peak experts."
"Not as good as Cheongmyeong, but strong. Has experience—not to be underestimated."
"Tch."
Namgoong Juhee smacked her lips in disappointment.
Unexpected to Hwangbo Un and Yi Hayeon.
She wasn't one to mope over a strong foe.
"Huh? Why? Even Cheongjin can't match Hee-ya."
"Indeed. Cheongjin is average among geniuses."
"Hey? Why the long faces?"
"Because it's unwelcome news for Namgung Sojeo…"
"Oh, that?"
Namgoong Juhee grinned and added,
"Unwelcome, yeah. A Peak dropping out first would be embarrassing."
Classic Namgoong Juhee.
The Hobuk Branch served like a medieval colosseum.
Providing spectacles to relieve stress, ease tension, boost societal satisfaction.
Cheongjin understood that role better than anyone.
"Senior brother, nervous?"
Cheongmyeong teased from behind.
Like a real little brother since childhood, so Cheongjin just smirked despite the impropriety.
"Nervous? Please."
"You look it. That Namgoong bitch over there—she's been with Hwangbo Un and Yi Hayeon. Could be a big deal."
"Doesn't matter. I do my job."
"Always 'my job.' What even is it? Tell your pathetic junior brother."
"Cut the nonsense."
Cheongjin headed to the arena.
He'd never tell Cheongmyeong what "his job" was.
As Wudang disciple and big brother, paving the way for the top disciple and junior was too embarrassing to voice.
"See you in the finals, Cheongmyeong."
"Oho! Got it! Looking forward to it!"
A red-haired beauty stood in the arena.
Sparkling eyes, sharp nose like carved jade, elegant curves.
Cheongjin involuntarily pictured Cheongmyeong hitting on her.
"Namgoong Juhee of the Namgoong Clan. I use Luk Hap Sword and Emperor Sword Form."
Her salute made the image sharper.
Maybe Cheongmyeong would target her post-loss depression.
If so, time for a scolding.
With that thought, Cheongjin saluted too.
"Cheongjin of Wudang Sect. Sword: Tae Cheong Sword Method and Taeguk Hye Sword. Footwork: Jeun Jong."
Cheongjin stylishly listed his arts.
Admiration erupted.
Wudang lives up to the name. The Sword Dragon uncoils at last.
Familiar reactions.
Not Cheongmyeong-level, but famous and promising in Hobuk—like a top-15 MLB draft pick.
"Begin the spar! Swordsmen, to positions—ready!"
Cheongjin eyed Namgoong Juhee.
He was famous; she was a nobody.
Not even draft-eligible.
"Spar starts!"
So the outcome was obvious.
Cheongjin would crush her easily; Wudang takes first blood.
The crowd thought so. Cheongjin too.
And one second later.
That certainty shattered.
"I'll attack first. Downward strike—Luk Hap Sword's third form, Falling Petals Flowing Water."
Her sword traced a straight line.
Top to bottom.
Not slow, not fast—but to Cheongjin, it looked like a waterfall.
And slash.
"Wh-what?" "What the…?" "Medic! Call the medics!"
Her sword drew a red line splitting Cheongjin in half.
What an anticlimactic first match.