Last Vacation (5)
“Sect Leader! The Black Heaven Gang bastards are finally in sight!”
Peng Jincheon's voice, infused with his inner energy, shook the modest Thrown Sword Sect building to its core.
Sure enough, far in the distance, dozens of warriors clad in the Black Heaven Gang's signature black uniforms stood in perfect formation.
Every last one of them is exceptional.
The Black Heaven Gang Leader, the Black Heaven Sword Ghost, had come to the Thrown Sword Sect accompanied only by his elite few.
I could read his intentions like an open book. He planned to crush me and the Thrown Sword Sect's masters in front of everyone, then seize the sect outright.
And by claiming a flashy victory, he'll win the support and favor of the Sichuan province martial artists.
Indeed, the area around the small Thrown Sword Sect was packed with people I'd never seen before.
Meng Dan-ya, the sect leader, had put it best: “The ones who wouldn't show their faces when we begged for help... now they swarm like shameless flies the moment the Black Heaven Gang Leader shows up.”
His face was filled with regret and bitterness.
Most of the gathering spectators were martial artists who carried some weight in Sichuan, which made Meng Dan-ya's disappointment all too understandable.
Yet he didn't chase them away or drive them off. Instead, he courteously offered them tea and greeted them with clasped fists, upholding the righteous path.
I want to help a man as humble and principled as this.
It wasn't just for Meng Yuon—I wanted to aid Meng Dan-ya, an exemplary warrior and sect leader.
As those thoughts crossed my mind, the Black Heaven Gang Leader Du Jeong-cheong and his top lieutenants finally entered the Thrown Sword Sect grounds.
“Greetings! We are the Black Heaven Gang, here to rewrite the history of Sichuan!”
Du Jeong-cheong waved to the assembled crowd first, addressing them before anyone else.
Woooaaah!
The crowd erupted in cheers, swept up in his showmanship.
But it soured my mood.
“As an invited guest, you should first pay respects to your host, Sect Leader Meng...”
It might look polite and entertaining on the surface, but nothing could be further from the truth. The Black Heaven Sword Ghost Du Jeong-cheong was a cunning villain through and through.
By ignoring Thrown Sword Sect's leader Meng Dan-ya in front of everyone, he was flaunting his superiority.
No wonder he's the head of a faction.
Put kindly, he was shrewd; put harshly, he had no manners.
It was the mark of the man who'd single-handedly carved out the Black Heaven Gang through a whirlwind of duels.
“First, my respects to the martial artists of Sichuan... As you all know, this Du and that Mo both started as wandering duelists.”
Even standing on Thrown Sword Sect soil, Du Jeong-cheong still refused to address Meng Dan-ya—or me, who'd sent the duel challenge.
Instead, he bantered with the spectators beyond.
“While rightfully sorting out Sichuan's sects through fair duels, we received quite the bold proposal from a young warrior.”
After his long-winded preamble, Du Jeong-cheong finally turned his gaze to me.
No doubt some of his surviving subordinates, those who'd escaped the sleeping poison, had spilled the details.
“I was baffled by the challenge for a one-on-one duel with a senior like myself... But setting aside righteous or unorthodox paths, perhaps I'll teach a lesson to this academy student.”
His eyes narrowed, and sure enough, he started scheming something petty.
“A simple duel wouldn't do right by all these spectators, would it? So how about a clash of pride between the Black Heaven Gang and the Thrown Sword Sect?”
Woooaaah!
Du Jeong-cheong wasn't just any warrior—he was a silver-tongued orator, masterfully drawing the crowd into his rhythm with flashy rhetoric and cunning psychology.
“You mentioned a clash of pride between our sects—what format did you have in mind?”
One bold spectator piped up. He was a notable figure in Sichuan martial arts—and one who'd ignored Meng Dan-ya's plea for aid.
“Excellent question. There's a standard method for sect conflicts or do-or-die duels, isn't there?”
The words ignited a flurry of chatter.
“Three-on-three duel?”
“Sending out three representatives from each sect to fight, right?”
“Yeah, it's clean, no loose ends, minimal sacrifices.”
Before full-scale sect wars, to minimize losses, conflicting factions often selected three representatives each for duels. Sometimes five or seven, but they favored odd numbers for clear outcomes.
In life-or-death sect battles, they'd invite renowned masters or call in powerful allies through connections—a method steeped in history and tradition.
“No wonder they brought so many people.”
“They're trying to legitimately swallow our Thrown Sword Sect in one go.”
While the spectators buzzed, the Thrown Sword Sect disciples paled.
Aside from Meng Yuon, their only true master was Sect Leader Meng Dan-ya, the Throwing Sword Guest—and even he was past his prime.
Demanding three representatives for duels was blatantly predatory.
“What say you, Thrown Sword Sect? Send out three champions for one-on-one duels—first to two wins takes it. Surely this favors you more?”
Black Heaven Gang Leader Black Heaven Sword Ghost Du Jeong-cheong flashed his signature glint as he alternated glances between me and Meng Dan-ya.
He still hadn't offered us so much as a greeting.
“Sect Leader, what will you do?”
He addressed Meng Dan-ya, the Thrown Sword Sect Leader. As an outsider, the decision rested with him, not me.
“Hmm...”
With his sect's fate on the line, Meng Dan-ya pondered deeply—more than ever before.
Honestly, even I might have preferred sending three warriors to score two wins before Du Jeong-cheong stepped in, rather than trusting a young fighter like me.
“They don't have to be Thrown Sword Sect members. Sect duels often involve hired masters or friendly allies.”
Du Jeong-cheong smirked vilely down at Meng Dan-ya, his senior in the martial world.
“And... if we Thrown Sword Sect win this three-on-three, what then?”
Meng Dan-ya asked gravely.
“What? Pfft—puhaha! Hahahahaha!”
Du Jeong-cheong doubled over in mad laughter before managing to lift his head.
“That won't happen, but... if it did! We'd compensate every loss we've inflicted on the Thrown Sword Sect and have this Du formally apologize to Sect Leader Meng.”
It wasn't a bad deal. Tempting, even.
But there was a fatal flaw.
“Hold on. If we lose, we hand over the entire sect—but what does the Black Heaven Gang risk? It's hardly balanced.”
I raised my voice to point it out.
Sect battles or duels were all-or-nothing gambles. It wasn't just “sorry, we were wrong”—the loser had to dismantle their plaque, meaning dissolution.
“Oh ho, so you're Cheon Myeong, the one who sent that absurd challenge?”
At last, we faced each other directly. Our glares were far from friendly.
“Whether I'm Cheon Myeong or not is beside the point. Sect duels demand everything on the line. The Black Heaven Gang dwarfs the Thrown Sword Sect, but the stakes must be fair, no?”
I provoked him, painting an even grander picture.
An arrogant man like the Black Heaven Sword Ghost Du Jeong-cheong would never imagine defeat.
“Come on! We're far bigger than your little Thrown Sword Sect. We could crush you in secret, but we're choosing peace—be grateful!”
This guy wasn't your average villain. He had a slick tongue—hell, in the modern world, he'd make a ruthless con artist.
“Didn't you try that already, fail, and pivot? Am I wrong?”
But I wasn't one to fall for his silver tongue or scams. I twisted the knife, questioning his nerve.
Even Du Jeong-cheong couldn't wriggle out now. From his view, victory was assured—he had no taste for drawn-out bickering.
“Fine! Winner takes all! The victor claims every right of the loser—even life-and-death authority!”
Du Jeong-cheong bellowed, clearly pissed.
Life-and-death authority meant the power to kill or spare at will—every warrior's neck on the line.
Swoosh!
At those words, Meng Dan-ya glanced at me and Peng Jincheon, his hired masters, with apologetic eyes—as if sorry to drag us into this mess.
But we didn't care.
“Perfect for a three-on-three.”
We hadn't finished our final graduation at Cheonmu Academy yet, and the Three Heavenly Troops were still intact.
Above all, we were utterly confident we wouldn't lose.
Some might say greenhorns like us had no business facing unorthodox martial artists.
Far from it.
If we feared death, we never would've pursued the martial path.
Dreaming of becoming the world's greatest, we'd trained relentlessly. Born as men with grand ambitions, we had to charge thorny paths without hesitation.
“Sect Leader Meng. For this three-on-three, select us three as your representatives.”
I said it while looking at Peng Jincheon and Meng Yuon.
Meng Yuon, a Thrown Sword Sect native, went without saying. Even Peng Jincheon, the promising young scion of the Northern Peng Clan with a paved road ahead as the Little Dragon Blade, nodded eagerly.
“Are you sure? I'm fine with it. Losing talents like you, with roads stretching nine thousand miles ahead, hurts more than abandoning the sect.”
Meng Dan-ya truly was a good man. For our sake—and Meng Yuon's—he was willing to let go of the Thrown Sword Sect.
“We're sure. Just trust us this once.”
I convinced him.
Looking back, this was a heaven-sent opportunity.
No— an opportunity born from the Black Heaven Sword Ghost Du Jeong-cheong's arrogance.
He'd taken my bait and wagered his entire faction.
If two of us won here, the Thrown Sword Sect wouldn't just escape annihilation—it could topple the colossal Black Heaven Gang.
A historic upset: the child felling the giant.
“We're not just winning—we'll sweep all three.”
My goal wasn't two wins, but a perfect 3-0.
And I had my reasons for such confidence.