Chapter 84
I smiled faintly and continued.
"It's fine. What's the point of saying more? We've both insulted each other's parents, so we can't just let it slide. As martial artists, there's no need for empty talk. Let's settle it with swords."
"What?"
Surprised by my words, Jang Cheol and Cheon Wi-eung's gang stared at me in stunned silence.
"Is that girl out of her mind? Did she just challenge us to a spar?"
Jang Cheol asked in disbelief.
"Did you just say to spar?"
"Yeah."
"Ha, fine! You're on!"
The corner of Jang Cheol's mouth twisted upward in a vicious grin, the perfect smirk of a budding villain.
I gave him a moment to bask in the delusion that he'd already won before pressing on.
"So, who's stepping up?"
At that, the gang's eyes turned to Cheon Wi-eung.
He gave me a mocking look.
"I heard you're a qi cripple. Can you even hold a sword?"
"I never said I'd fight."
I replied with a smile.
"What?"
"Isn't it obvious? You said it yourself—I'm a qi cripple. Imagine a Baekdo murim heir bragging about beating one. You weren't thinking something that stupid, were you?"
Cheon Wi-eung flinched and averted his gaze.
I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head.
"Wow, you really were?"
"N-no, that's not it!"
Jang Cheol, who had looked disappointed, lifted his chin again upon seeing Cheon Wi-eung.
It was natural confidence. Cheon Wi-eung was two heads taller than me or Yahul. In a children's fight, not an adult brawl, size was everything.
No one thought he'd lose.
But unlike Jang Cheol, Cheon Wi-eung glanced nervously at Yahul, fidgeting with the wrist Yahul had grabbed earlier.
He was clearly worried about Yahul's skills, remembering how he hadn't shaken free easily.
'Yahul's got some real strength.'
But even with that strength, Yahul hadn't trained in swordsmanship or fist techniques. No matter his future talent to match Namgung Ryu-cheong, against kids who'd wielded swords since childhood, he'd be at a disadvantage.
Jang Cheol shouted.
"So? Who's it gonna be? That kid behind you?"
"Not him either."
Both Yahul and the bully gang widened their eyes in shock.
Jang Cheol yelled.
"What the hell? Are you messing with us?"
"Wait. My friends are coming."
"Stalling won't help!"
"Just wait, ah—there they are."
Speak of the devil.
The root of all this trouble, Namgung Ryu-cheong, was walking over with Seo Ha-ryeong.
I wasn't just blaming Namgung Ryu-cheong for no reason. This area was Namgung family territory. Yet the sole heir of the Namgung family—the next big thing in Baekdo murim, a lone wolf who'd never ventured out before—was holed up at home.
As the saying goes, when the tiger's away, the fox will play king.
With the Namgung family absent, Cheon Wi-eung of Cheonbo Gate and Jang Cheol of the Jang family had formed their gang, strutting around like they owned the place.
So, it was only right for Namgung Ryu-cheong to end this.
That way, they'd think twice about messing around here again out of fear of him.
'Unlike me, who's leaving soon, Namgung Ryu-cheong will keep living here.'
This had nothing to do with me being too lazy to fight kids with swords. It was pure logic.
Namgung Ryu-cheong's face was stiff.
He'd sensed the tense atmosphere from afar and asked immediately upon arriving.
"What happened?"
"Perfect timing. Did you get the perfume?"
Seo Ha-ryeong approached casually.
"Yeah, I did. They were already closing up when I got there. Almost got an earful from the vendor. But seriously, what's going on? Why's everyone lined up? Something to see?"
Something to see... yeah. Us.
The commotion had drawn a crowd around me and the bully gang.
Then Jang Cheol spoke up.
"N-N-N-Namgung... Namgung young master?"
I thought he was singing.
"Namgung what? Cheol-ah, what are you talking about?"
Seo Ha-ryeong frowned at Cheon Wi-eung and Jang Cheol. It was surprising to see the usually smiling girl recoil like that.
Even more surprising was Namgung Ryu-cheong. He furrowed his brow slightly at Jang Cheol.
"...Jang young master?"
"You know him?"
Namgung Ryu-cheong lowered his eyes briefly before saying.
"He's my maternal aunt's ninth cousin."
"Ninth cousin...?"
I sighed and said.
"What is that, like the distance between you and me?"
"..."
"Strangers."
"Pfft!"
Seo Ha-ryeong, who'd been scowling fiercely, burst out laughing as if struck by a surprise attack. She clutched her stomach, doubled over.
Namgung Ryu-cheong shot her a glance, then glared at me last.
"This is really annoying."
Seo Ha-ryeong asked in a voice still laced with laughter.
"What are you doing with these guys?"
"That Jang kid suddenly called me trash. So I said his dad's even trashier. Can't say more? Let's settle it with swords."
At my brief summary, Seo Ha-ryeong's expression shifted through a rainbow of emotions. She grimaced at the trash insult, gaped in shock when I mentioned his dad, then stared at the Jang crew with all mirth gone.
Namgung Ryu-cheong's eyes sharpened coldly too.
I shrugged and continued.
"But I don't have a sword, and I'm not in sparring shape, so I waited for you guys."
I turned to Jang Cheol. His face had gone pale—eerily so.
Even with the Namgung family's fame and Namgung Ryu-cheong's reputation as a prodigy, boys that age wouldn't believe it until swords were drawn.
But Jang Cheol's ashen, almost bluish face looked like he'd already been thrashed once.
Cheon Wi-eung strode forward, shouting as if to convince himself.
"What's so great about Namgung young master? Jang Cheol, why are you scared? I didn't know you were such a coward!"
Yeah. That was the normal reaction, like Cheon Wi-eung's.
His words eased the gang's tension, and they snickered.
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
Fools only wise up when a blade's at their throat.
Namgung Ryu-cheong stepped forward.
The modern soul in me scolded—what are we making a kid do?—but this world had no concept of child rights.
Ten-year-olds roamed with real swords, unchecked.
Namgung Ryu-cheong drew his blade with practiced ease.
When we'd set out together, I'd eyed his sword uneasily—what does a kid need that for?
But now, watching his back, I felt utterly secure.
"I'm from Cheonbo Gate..."
Namgung Ryu-cheong cut off Cheon Wi-eung's introduction.
"Don't care. Come at me."
His rudeness was exasperating, but on our side, it earned applause.
'Tch, kinda cool, huh?'
Sure enough, Seo Ha-ryeong's gaze toward him softened a bit.
'But... less admiration, more jealousy?'
Meanwhile, the insulted Cheon Wi-eung flew into a rage and drew his sword.
"You bastard! Think you're hot stuff just 'cause you're Namgung? Coward who hides at home!"
Cheon Wi-eung was thirteen to fifteen at least. Namgung Ryu-cheong was ten.
By my golden eyes, Namgung Ryu-cheong's qi edged him out slightly.
'Wow, Namgung Ryu-cheong must've eaten well.'
His qi surpassing older murim heirs—that was the power of a prestigious family.
Unaware, Cheon Wi-eung attacked confidently.
I panicked.
'Normally, with that age gap, the older one yields first strike, right?'
It was petty, unworthy of Baekdo murim.
Cheon Wi-eung wielded a heavy broadsword, swinging straight down with formidable power unfit for a kid his age.
A rotten herring was still a herring. This was the strike of one trained properly from childhood.
Even a kid his size would struggle to block.
But if you can't block...
...don't.
Namgung Ryu-cheong barely twisted his shoulder, dodging effortlessly.
"...Insane."
A sigh? Admiration? It resembled his father's evasion.
'Mimicking after seeing it just a few times...'
Chills ran down my spine at his talent.
First strike, second, third.
After parrying three blows, Namgung Ryu-cheong clenched his left fist.
I saw the path clearly.
'Solar plexus.'
His peach-hued qi-packed fist slammed home with a thud.
"...!"
Cheon Wi-eung doubled over silently.
Clang.
His sword hit the ground instead, ringing loudly.
"..."
"..."
"Who's next?"