I Became the Protagonist Who Monopolizes Fortuitous Encounters in a Martial Arts Novel 34 - Special Skills Supremacy (2)
“Aigoo~ That’s exactly what I’ve been hoping for.”
If Namgung Cheol had been quick on the uptake or particularly sharp-minded, he might have sensed something off in Meng Yuon’s momentum. But he was blinded by his arrogance over learning a new sword technique, seeing nothing amiss. Instead, he put on his usual air of nonchalance, provoking Meng Yuon without holding back.
‘What an idiot.’
I looked at Namgung Cheol and predicted Meng Yuon’s victory even before the match began.
Ever since Meng Yuon returned from the Henan Meng Clan, his skills had skyrocketed, placing him below me but on par with Peng Jincheon. Considering his timid past, it was a transformation straight out of one step a day, one leap a month.
“Last time, I owed you one, right?”
With the duel confirmed, Namgung Cheol’s taunts grew even bolder. He thrust his face toward Meng Yuon and our group, looking down with his signature haughty glare.
“This time, you’ll learn exactly who’s above and who’s below.”
They say overconfidence leads to defeat, and here was Namgung Cheol laying it out plain as day. Farewell, and don’t go far.
“Yuon.”
I let Namgung Cheol’s nonsense go in one ear and out the other, then gave my full focus to Meng Yuon.
“Show everyone here what you’ve got.”
My words were simple. Even now, the Little Affectionate Swordsman Meng Yuon was still undervalued in the Cheonmu Academy’s upper class. The leadership, instructors—even Dan Ri-cheong—acknowledged his potential but saw his current level as bottom-tier upper class.
I meant for him to prove them all wrong today.
Meng Yuon nodded with unprecedented focus, then leaped onto the training ground. He wasn’t trembling. He wasn’t shrinking back. That alone marked tremendous progress.
“Ready.”
Dan Ri-cheong, who had come out for the special skills verification, took charge of judging the Meng Yuon versus Namgung Cheol bout with evident interest. Their feud had reached the instructors’ ears one way or another, making today the day to settle it.
Smoothly, Meng Yuon placed his hand on his sword hilt, just as he had at the start. I couldn’t help but admire the stance.
‘Meng Yuon is the master of the swift sword.’
But keeping his hand there without drawing meant one thing: he vowed to go from draw to strike in a single breath.
“Begin!”
My prediction hit the mark. The moment the spar started, Meng Yuon unleashed the latter half of the Fighting Dragon Swift Dragon Sword Method—Tujin Clan’s signature technique and his specialty—with all his might.
- Fighting Dragon Light Spring!
It was a stance I’d never seen before, one that excelled at decisive finishes among the Fighting Dragon Swift Dragon Sword Method’s forms—a near-guaranteed kill shot.
But Namgung Cheol was no pushover.
“Haaap!”
One might expect him to falter against the insane speed of Fighting Dragon Light Spring, but he poured his energy into his own swift sword.
- Heavenly Thunder Radiance!
Only then did I grasp the source of Namgung Cheol’s confidence. He’d mastered the Heavenly Thunder Sword Method—one of the Namgung Clan’s fastest, ranking in the top three. A pinnacle art even among Namgung techniques, it outshone the lesser sect’s Fighting Dragon sword arts in sheer grandeur and polish.
Clang! Clash!
Their first exchange ended in a draw. Strictly speaking, Meng Yuon dominated in speed, but Namgung Cheol caught up late with superior technique refinement.
“Huh?”
Namgung Cheol, who should have been thrilled, didn’t gloat or strut. He panicked instead. I knew why.
“Meng Yuon’s opener was way faster than expected—and invisible. That’s got him rattled.”
My guess was spot on. His draw was pure luck. More precisely, Namgung Cheol hadn’t seen or sensed Meng Yuon’s strike at all. Eager to show off Heavenly Thunder to the students and instructors, he’d been too focused to gauge his opponent’s ferocity. Luck had evened it out.
“He thought Heavenly Thunder would solve everything, but Meng Yuon isn’t shaken. No wonder he’s freaking out.”
Aha!
Only then did the crowd nod in understanding, slapping their knees.
“This is fun!”
Even Dan Ri-cheong wasn’t immune. Swift sword masters usually ended things quick, so he’d expected little spectacle. But this dragged on thrillingly, lighting up his eyes like a kid’s.
The real show was just beginning.
- Fighting Dragon Chaotic Dance!
Unlike the rattled Namgung Cheol, Meng Yuon stayed ice-cool throughout. Was this really the same timid, hot-headed extreme we knew? It was uncanny.
Flash!
While Namgung Cheol floundered, Meng Yuon calmly prepped his follow-up and struck. The gap in skill and mindset was clear.
Luck had saved Namgung Cheol once, but not twice.
Clang!
He barely blocked near his body, avoiding a fatal blow—but his poorly defended sword flew from his grip. A swordsman’s blade is his second life, and this one bore the Namgung Clan’s signature blue silk of the vast heavens. Now it was gone.
And that was just the start.
Whoosh!
Meng Yuon whipped his blade again, bending it in an unnatural arc to pursue. The ingenuity drew gasps.
“Oh ho!”
Even Dan Ri-cheong marveled repeatedly, delighted. Peng Jincheon and I were stunned as comrades; everyone else must have been floored. For the youth-loving Soft Wind Silver Sword, this was a fresh discovery—pure joy.
“Spare... mercy...”
Meng Yuon’s sword arced toward Namgung Cheol’s throat. He knew it, squeezing his eyes shut in agony. He knew Meng Yuon turned savage once ignited—death seemed certain. Even Dan Ri-cheong paused his glee, wondering if he should intervene. But no.
“Meng Yuon’s overcome all his flaws.”
No sooner had I declared it than Meng Yuon proved me right. In the old days, he’d have severed the neck. Instead, he halted inches away and grinned.
“You’re weaker than me.”
And one more thing. Hanging with me and Peng Jincheon had taught him boldness and snappy comebacks. If Peng was the reliable big bro, Meng was the cheeky little brother.
Whoa! Wooaaah!
The academy erupted in overwhelming victory cheers. With the showdown against the evil Paecheon Academy looming, this flashy win fired everyone up.
“Well done, Yuon!”
Peng Jincheon beamed too. Meng had always been our sore spot, so we watched his growth with parental pride.
“Awesome!”
I whistled and cheered without restraint. Meng Yuon had proven himself to the entire upper class: worthy of Cheon Myeong and Peng Jincheon’s crew, flaws conquered—maybe even the academy’s top sword.
“Meng Yuon wins! Thus, for swift sword specialty... Meng Yuon is selected as representative!”
Dan Ri-cheong declared it, appointing him on the spot. Now I led external arts, Peng Jincheon saber arts, Meng Yuon swift sword. Our trio claimed all upper-class specialties.
Greater honor than this?
“Namgung Cheol. I’m not bound by the past. Or more precisely, you don’t even register. So lose interest in me from now on.”
Meng Yuon strode past the trembling wreck, delivering a cold parting shot. Our Yuon’s all grown up!
“Alright, specialties aren’t done yet. Talents of Cheonmu Academy upper class! Prove yourselves!”
Dan Ri-cheong, hyped from the win, bellowed. The mood soared, but as time dragged, instructors’ and his faces darkened.
We’d filled three slots quick—minimum met. But after?
‘Spears, lightness skills... but they’re all middling.’
Minus Peng Jincheon’s saber dominance and Meng Yuon’s swift sword edge, no one shone in basics.
“This is...”
Even upbeat Dan Ri-cheong grew glum. They grudgingly picked spear and sword reps, but doubts lingered.
Thus.
“For now, Cheonmu upper class fields saber, swift sword, and external arts.”
Minimum requirements it was.
Our strategy: ‘Win all three we propose first.’
If Peng, Meng, and I went undefeated, three points. Draw or one loss? Still two minimum.
‘Then snag at least one from Paecheon’s three.’
That’d tilt odds our way; worst case, 3-3 tie.
I calmly weighed scenarios, then asked Dan Ri-cheong.
“Vice Head, a question.”
“What?”
“Can specialty participants enter others?”
I wondered: if I won external arts for a point, could I join if Paecheon picked something like fist techniques?
“Possible if opponents allow.”
I sighed in relief.
‘Perfect.’
I could compete anywhere, boosting points.
“Can’t wait for Paecheon.”
Less than three days left. What talents and specialties would the evil Paecheon field? What clashes awaited?
The outcome hung in anticipation.