Entrance Exam (6)
“Prepare.”
Peng Jincheon, the rising star from the Northern Peng Clan catching the eye of the Five Great Families, and me, Cheon Myeong, who had made a name for myself in this Cheonmu Academy exam. When word spread that we two would face off in a one-on-one duel, Dan Ri-cheong wasn't the only one—all the other participants turned their full attention our way.
“Begin!”
With the instructor's shout, Peng Jincheon struck first with a preemptive attack.
As the next Blade Dragon of the Northern Peng Clan, he was a figure of immense potential in the original story, destined for greatness. As if to prove it, he swung his wooden sword with ferocious power.
One of the supreme techniques hailed within the Northern Peng Clan, the Geon Gon Hon Won Do Beop.
While people usually named the Five Tiger Severing Door Blade as the Peng Clan’s signature art, this Geon Gon Hon Won Do Beop was every bit its equal.
Paaaaat!
Even a wooden sword, charged with his deep blue inner energy, was as deadly as any blade. And that was just the start—his blade qi cleaved through heaven and earth with terrifying might, leaving me awestruck.
As expected of Blade Dragon Peng Jincheon.
I couldn't help but admire him, even in that split-second gap.
Peng Jincheon, who would later ascend as the Blade Dragon and claim the title of world's greatest blademaster. Even before setting foot in Cheonmu Academy, his cultivation had already reached first-rate.
But sadly, he'd drawn the short straw this time.
By sheer coincidence—or fate—I knew the Northern Peng Clan's martial arts inside out, weaknesses included.
“The Northern Peng Clan's arts are all mighty and relentless. But every strength has its flip side.”
I recalled my maternal uncle's words, the creator of this very world.
He'd meticulously mapped out matchups and flaws for even the Five Families and Nine Great Sects. Why? Because he loved how battles hinged on opponents and counters—save for absurd cheats like the Divine Transformation Heart Method or Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong.
“Their Achilles' heel? Sluggish footwork, vulnerable to fluid, ever-shifting styles!”
With uncle's wisdom fresh in mind, I charged forward boldly.
Paat!
To onlookers, it must've looked suicidal, lunging straight at Peng Jincheon's blade. Far from it.
Peng arts pack such raw power that backing off just paints you into a corner—a four-sided ambush waiting to happen.
Better to advance with courage.
Susut!
And sure enough, his inner energy-sharpened wooden sword whistled past my forehead by a hair's breadth.
So razor-keen and forceful that strands of my hair sheared off, fluttering away.
Razor's edge. Had I hesitated, disaster.
Even with Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong up, his blade qi could've cracked me open.
And another key point.
He's got the wooden sword. I'm empty-handed.
Translation: Close the gap. Turn his reach into a liability, make it fist range.
Perfect spot for slick footwork—but I had none under my belt.
“Haaap!”
So I poured everything into Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong, crossed my arms in an X, and barreled toward Peng Jincheon like a lunatic.
“What—?!”
My sudden rush flustered him; at this stage, experience was his weak spot.
That fluster? Lady Luck smiling on me.
Jackpot!
Finally dragging him into knife-fight range, I unleashed hell.
Tu Gye Byeon Bo
Hands aglow with Divine Transformation Heart Method qi, they danced through myriad shifts.
My pay-to-win Tu Gye Jin Kwon leaned simple over flashy, but it had its tricks.
Tu Gye Pung Pa whipped up fist winds to blind, Tu Gye Byeon Bo mimicked a panicked rooster clawing the floor in frenzy.
Pabababat!
Distance crushed, fist shadows swarmed him in a blink.
Real strikes laced with feints—he looked outright shocked.
Got it. He's not the Blade Dragon yet.
Unlike the original, where post-graduation trials forged him into peak mastery, right now he was just green, green.
Put simply: clueless against bad matchups.
Theory's one thing; body another.
“Ugh!”
Flustered, he stumbled back two paces—my fist grazing his scalp now.
All in two, three breaths.
Ooooh! Ooooooh!
Dan Ri-cheong and the crowd roared, stunned that Peng Jincheon—the prodigy junior—and I were dead even.
Me on my hot streak? Finally met my match. Consensus.
But hold up.
The mismatched one was Peng Jincheon.
The one kick in Tu Gye Jin Kwon, tailor-made for endings—like a spinning heel strike, back foot snapping up.
Kwaaaang!
Flame-trail leg shattered his guard, landing clean.
“Kuhhh!”
Solar plexus smashed, he skidded back, wracked in pain.
But Peng Jincheon? Fledgling now, he'd later helm his era alongside me and Baek Muhon.
“Haaap!”
Pain fleeting—he had killer instincts.
Even mid-skid, he hurled the wooden sword like a dart.
Peak-original him? Flying sword mastery. Now? Just knife toss.
Hwiik!
Desperate curve aimed true at vitals—yet spared acupoints or deadlies. Character proven.
My fave for a reason.
Still, can't throw it.
Kwajik!
Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong fist pulverized the flying wood.
It clattered dirt-bound, wrecked.
“……”
He stared at his filthy companion.
“I yield.”
Candid concession.
“Huh? Why?”
“Thought he had more.”
“Heard his barehand work's elite sans sword.”
Onlookers grumbled at the abrupt end.
I got it, though.
“Dropped weapon?”
Fits my fave to a T.
“Aye. Borrowed wood or not, a warrior's blade is partner. Partner grounded? That's defeat.”
Classic noble scion. Orthodox valor.
Huangbo's brute charm aside, Peng Jincheon oozed refined grace.
“Noted. Good lesson.”
Victor to vanquished: cupped fists, respect.
Match called; rivalry done.
“Yours too.”
Regret simmered, masked; he withdrew.
Fierce clash: Cheon Myeong wins.
Waaaaaah!
Admirers erupted.
David topples Goliath vibes—absurd.
Sects hoard juniors; Huangbo, Peng poured all-in to counter swelling Nine Sects.
Yet prime contender Peng flops? Shockwave city.
Quirky Dan Ri-cheong aside, instructors and brass huddled in crisis talks.
Who bets on Little Blade Dragon bombing entrance?
Not even original canon.
Passed firm, but twinge of regret.
Wished bestie status with fave, academy bros...
Faves abound, but top-tier loss stung.
“Done?”
Our late bout wrapped the third gate quick.
Soft Wind Silver Sword Dan Ri-cheong eyed the under-hundred survivors approvingly, then packing failures.
“Bonus passes.”
Packing halted; stares locked.
No way?
Hopes flickered.
“No losers fit my talent mold—usually. Mind changed. Matchup sucked.”
The guy? Obvious.
“Bonus: Little Blade Dragon Peng Jincheon!”
My narrow victim.
Ooooh!
All but him exploded in cheers.
No better pick—even passers had scrubs.
Deserved.
“……Grateful.”
From boot to bonus, beaming bow.
“Pfft. Cheon Myeong's first; you're second. Ding second for losing to first? Nah.”
Dan Ri-cheong shrugged his wild streak.
Total entrants: 98 including him.
Norm's 100-plus per cohort—gauntlet confirmed.
“Uh…… Cheon Myeong?”
Passers partied; Peng sidled up sheepish.
“Friends?”
Seven Falls, Eight Rises: The Invincible Fist King's fave, Little Blade Dragon Peng Jincheon—proposing first.