Last Vacation (7)
Whoaaa!
As the scales of victory tipped in an instant, the spectators erupted in exclamations of awe, one after another. Especially since most had expected the Black-Clothed Evil Sword Du Jinbo to win, the shock hit twice as hard.
'There's a saying that duels between quicksword masters are decided in a single clash... but this just goes to show the massive gap between Meng Yuon and Du Jinbo.'
For example, Meng Yuon's sword tip hadn't wavered in the slightest, while Du Jinbo had already dropped his blade and suffered a major wound—the difference in skill was crystal clear.
"Urk... grrr."
When Meng Yuon asked if he wanted to continue, Du Jinbo could only let out a pained groan, unable to give a proper answer.
I worried the innocent Meng Yuon might let his guard down at the sight, but he was no longer the man he'd been before.
"If you won't answer properly, I'll take that as a yes and end this."
Just as I'd grown stronger training at Cheonmu Academy, Meng Yuon was improving day by day.
Swish!
Meng Yuon raised his sword high.
"I... I lost."
Even to the end, Du Jinbo glanced nervously at someone else before forcing out the words—none other than his father, the Black Heaven Gang Leader Du Jeongcheong. It was proof that his father terrified him more than Meng Yuon's blade at his throat.
"My god!"
"Meng Yuon actually won?"
As the duel between Fighting Sword Sect and Black Heaven Gang came to a proper close, the crowd and onlookers went wild. And why not? In Sichuan's martial world, Fighting Sword Sect had once boasted formidable quicksword arts but had since fallen to the status of a minor, declining faction.
'But he crushed the young gang leader of Black Heaven Gang—the hottest rising power in present-day Sichuan martial arts. No wonder they can't believe it.'
The disbelief wasn't limited to others.
"Whoaaa!"
"Junior Brother Yuon!"
"S-Senior Brother, you're this strong?"
"Is this really our Fighting Sword Sect's martial art?"
From senior brothers who'd known Meng Yuon for years to the newest initiates, they all showered him with praise without reserve. Even they hadn't expected such an overwhelming victory. This wasn't just a win—it was a domination. And since it was effectively young gang leader versus sect heir, the implications were huge.
"Ugh... uuuugh."
Even Black Heaven Gang Leader Du Jeongcheong groaned in flustered panic. His faction's mood chilled like ice water poured over flames as he struggled to suppress his rage.
"Victory to Fighting Sword Sect's Little Righteous Quick Sword Meng Yuon!"
Cheonpunggae Chorok, handling the judging and proceedings, bellowed the announcement with gusto, as if he'd been waiting for it. As a Beggar Gang man and info broker, he couldn't hide his fascination with Fighting Sword Sect's resurgence.
"Well done, Yuon!"
I clapped the shoulder of my triumphant friend as he returned, praising him without restraint. Compared to our Cheonmu Academy days, I could truly feel how far Meng Yuon the warrior had come.
"This is all thanks to you. Thanks."
The cold glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by the innocent gaze of a child. With more experience, he'd soon stand out even among peak masters.
"You worthless fool!"
While Fighting Sword Sect celebrated like it was a festival, Black Heaven Gang seethed with grief turning to fury. Du Jeongcheong pointed accusingly at his sole son—shoulder pierced and being carted off by physicians—not with worry, but shame.
'How's it feel, Du Jeongcheong? Mouth dry, blood boiling, right?'
Securing the first win in this best-of-three meant absolute advantage. We could afford to skip a round, but Black Heaven Gang had to win the next to avoid defeat.
'But Gang Leader Du Jeongcheong can't just step up in the middle.'
Murim had an unwritten rule for such tournaments: the strongest went last, as the anchor. No law enforced it, but for a gang like Black Heaven—aiming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Nine Great Sects and Five Families—breaking it would be humiliating.
"Fighting Sword Sect will probably send Little Dragon Peng Jincheon next."
"The Northern Peng Clan's prodigy!"
"Peng Jincheon won't be an easy opponent."
The onlookers had already pegged Peng Jincheon, and that intel flowed straight to Black Heaven Gang. He wasn't just anyone—the Peng Clan's top late-stage talent. Risking a gamble on him was unwise. Especially for Black Heaven Gang, already at odds with Qingcheng, Emei, and Sichuan Tang Clan—they had enemies enough without making more.
"Damn it!"
No one who could guarantee victory over Peng Jincheon, yet he couldn't go himself either. Caught in a bind, the Black Heaven Sword Ghost Du Jeongcheong spat curses in frustration.
Creak!
Meanwhile, my friends and Fighting Sword Sect lounged in leisure. Seeing Meng Yuon hold his own against a Black Heaven expert had built trust in him, me, and Peng Jincheon.
"Having trouble?"
Right then, I stepped forward, addressing Du Jeongcheong as he stewed in silence.
"What? You mocking me now?"
Already boiling with rage, the question pushed him to the brink of explosion.
"No need to get worked up. Excess anger is a shortcut to an early grave."
"Hmph! First win's got your head in the clouds, eh?"
Before the fuming Du Jeongcheong could spout nonsense, I cut in.
"No more circling. Let's settle the second match right now."
That was exactly why I'd spoken up. I'd declared upfront that I wouldn't just squeak by Black Heaven Gang—I'd crush them overwhelmingly. Time to deliver.
"...What?"
Stunned by the odd proposal, Du Jeongcheong forgot his anger, eyes bulging.
"You heard me. I'll be your second fighter. You step up now, Gang Leader."
The real showdown was always him versus me. Why drag it out?
"Hmph! Don't toy with me. You're luring me out second so you can take the third easily, right?"
They say the guilty mind accuses others—everyone as scheming and vile as him. So petty; how does he even survive?
"Sigh. So suspicious—you'll never be a hero."
I shook my head with heavy sighs. Words wouldn't convince him; action would.
"Senior Brother Chorok. I'll fight second."
I stepped boldly before the suspicious, scheming Du Jeongcheong.
And at the same time...
"Sorry for going off-plan and stepping up first. Won't make it to your turn."
...I sent an apologetic sound transmission to Meng Yuon and Peng Jincheon.
Originally, like at Cheonmu Academy, it was Meng Yuon, then Peng Jincheon, me last. But I'd skipped Peng Jincheon's slot.
Why? 'If I don't crush Black Heaven Sword Ghost Du Jeongcheong here, he'll reach for Fighting Sword Sect again.'
Even if Black Heaven Gang lost all its forces, as long as its leader and core—Du Jeongcheong—lived, revival was possible. I aimed to prevent that.
And one more thing.
'Skipping a big fight like this? Where's the fun?'
Right? With all these onlookers, warriors, and spectators, crushing him would rocket my fame beyond Hebei to Sichuan and the entire Central Plains. Wouldn't that earn me a fitting title for my empty epithet slot?
"Haha, this'll be fun. Young Master Cheon Myeong's a born warrior who knows how to play the game."
Chorok didn't balk at the order switch—instead, he clapped in delight. Flexible and fun-loving even in rigid orthodox murim, just as I'd figured.
"Approved."
With Chorok's go-ahead on proceedings, I leaped lightly to the arena's center.
Whoosh!
With agile footwork, I beckoned the still-dazed Black Heaven Gang Leader Du Jeongcheong.
Beckon, beckon!
Some would call it arrogance; others, mad confidence from a rising star. The label was mine to forge. Win decisively, and it'd be bold assurance.
Ooooh!
A mere trainee—not even a full murim wanderer—beckoning Sichuan's mighty terror? The reaction was insane. I savored it, spreading my arms wide.
"Come on, Gang Leader. I'm up first. Believe me now?"
I taunted again, as if mocking his fear of a mere youth. His reaction was hilarious.
Grind!
Self-esteem crumpled by repeated jabs, Du Jeongcheong gnashed his teeth so hard I worried for his dental health.
"Fine. I'll teach you murim etiquette, you arrogant brat."
Humiliated before this huge crowd, Black Heaven Gang and its leader burned to kill me here. His eyes gleamed murderously.
Black Heaven Sword Ghost Du Jeongcheong!
Circulating his signature Black Spirit Malicious Intent Heart Method that had elevated him this far, his black uniform billowed.
Fwoooosh!
From below the arena, he unleashed ominous energy, broadcasting his realm to all. It was so potent the entire arena—and Fighting Sword Sect's grounds—shuddered.
Boom! Rumble rumble!
A fight he couldn't lose against a much younger foe? Du Jeongcheong was fiercer, more terrifying than ever.
Swish!
Finally leaping to face me center-stage, he smirked his signature sleazy grin.
"This is for our sect's fate—no holding back for this 'senior' nonsense."
His prized heart method restored his silver tongue somewhat, but it didn't faze me.
"I politely decline any 'junior' courtesy too."
My words grew curt.
That instant...
Playing the elder statesman publicly, but privately? A petty wretch. Made things easier for me.
No senior-junior deference in private transmission.
Du Jeongcheong, not grasping it, shot back.