The First Sword of the Dong Empire and His Last Disciple (4)
On the way to Training Hall No. 1, where the duels would take place, a commotion was already boiling over inside.
The cause, of course, was Ryu Shin and the ruckus his disciples were stirring up.
Ryu Shin regarded his disciples with a stern, unyielding expression, while they, for their part, let out irritated sighs, muttering that they couldn't understand why they had to do this at all.
"Why do I have to do this with that woman? The Successors have already all awakened, and the demons have all been dealt with!"
"He's right, Master. Just how far do you intend to disregard us? If anything, it was Yeon who broke the laws of the dojo in the first place. I don't understand why we alone are being treated like this."
Each disciple, in a voice perfectly suited to their own temperament, demanded an explanation for why this duel was necessary. And Ryu Shin—
"Shin Narae."
An immense pressure enveloped the entire training hall.
Crushed beneath that aura, the Fifth Disciple, Shin Narae, could do nothing. Her face drained of all color as she immediately dropped to one knee and bowed before Ryu Shin.
"Just now, you called my Seventh Disciple—your own junior martial sister—a 'woman'? And not just anywhere. In front of me?"
"....."
"Next. Jin In."
He lowered the pressure somewhat for the Fourth Disciple as he approached him.
"Disregard you? When have I ever disregarded any of you?"
"Our skills simply aren't a match for hers in the first place! Our realms are clearly the higher ones—so for the life of me, I can't understand why you would arrange this duel!"
Ryu Shin opened his mouth slowly, a fearsome glint in his eyes.
"What did I tell you? If wars were fought purely by realm, why would wars ever break out in the first place? Why would weaklings like us take up swords and spears and stand against the demons at all?"
"What you're saying, then, is that since we are weaker than the demons, we ought to kneel before them—is that what I'm hearing?"
"...D-Don't be absurd, Master! Where did that come from?"
"And 'not a match,' you say? Your realm is higher? How long do you intend to live shut inside such comfortable delusions? Watch closely through this duel. See just how hard Yeon has worked."
The moment Ryu Shin finished speaking, I took Yeon's right hand and we walked slowly toward Training Hall No. 1.
The way Ryu Shin looked at us was the proud, beaming expression of a grandfather watching his grandson or granddaughter bring home a sweetheart.
His direct disciples, by contrast—
"....."
"....."
Every last one of them shot Yeon glares so venomous that killing her outright would have been a mercy, killing intent radiating off them.
But this was Yeon, who had fought enemies far mightier than me and climbed all the way to the realm of Sword Master, which she had longed for so desperately.
I believed she could beat them. If her own lover didn't believe in her, who would?
For, ironically enough, the person she trusted most in this place was not anyone else—it was me.
The referee would be Ryu Shin.
A duel was lost when one party could no longer continue fighting, and malicious fouls would not be tolerated.
The duel could proceed with weapons other than swords, so long as no more than one weapon was used, and so long as the weapon was shown beforehand to give the opponent a fair chance to respond.
Yeon's first opponent was her senior martial sister.
The Fifth Disciple, Shin Narae.
"This is a formal duel, after all. Even Master can't interfere here."
"...So what."
"'So what'? You filthy bitch. Where do you get off glaring at your senior martial sister like that?"
"How the hell did you latch onto that man anyway? He's gorgeous. Tell me."
Yeon had tolerated everything thrown at herself without batting an eye, but the instant Narae turned her venom on me, killing intent flared in her eyes. She shot Narae a withering look—then turned away, casting her master Ryu Shin a glance that said hurry up and start this.
The duel was about to begin.
It would be fine if she lost.
After all, this wasn't just for revenge—the greatest purpose was to draw out the subconscious fear that lay buried deep within Yeon.
And beyond that, overcoming that fear was her most important task of all.
So I prayed she would endure it. That even in the grip of her fear, she would raise her sword against her senior martial sister.
"Fifth Disciple, Shin Narae. Seventh Disciple, Hwa Yeon. Are you ready?"
"Ready!"
"...Ready."
Yeon drew the [Starlight] blade I had given her from its sheath and leveled that black blade at her senior martial sister.
As if she would not be outdone, Narae likewise pointed her blue blade at Yeon, both of them waiting only for the signal.
And then—
"Begin!"
At Ryu Shin's thundering voice, the duel commenced. Shin Narae charged straight at Yeon—but Yeon simply stood in place, unmoving.
"Yes! Keep cowering like that, hiding behind that man's back! That's what suits you best, after all!"
The blade came thrusting in toward Yeon's left chest.
But—
—Clang!
"Huh?"
It was Yeon who repositioned her stance in a split second and deflected the blow.
"What suits me best, exactly? Cowering shut up in a room all day like I used to?"
Thud. Thud.
"Or is it leeching off my beloved Hyeon's back, sucking him dry?"
Narae sensed that something was gravely wrong with the aura around her opponent. But Yeon, having seen her mock and belittle her by dangling me before her to the very end—
—Fwooosh! Fwoooarrrgh!!!
ignited a Sword Flame of ferocious intensity, the likes of which Narae had never witnessed, blazing from her blade and her entire body.
And then she simply kept walking, straight toward Shin Narae.
Narae refused to be cowed either, flaring her own blue Sword Flame to meet her head-on. What she had never anticipated, however—
was that the difference in the size of their flames was so vast it was visible to the naked eye.
If Yeon's Sword Flame was a great wildfire raging across a mountain, then the flame on that woman Narae's blade was little more than a crackling campfire.
"That's right. I'm a woman without a conscience. I begged Hyeon for my very life—I'm a woman who even came back from death once. You knew that, didn't you?"
"So...! You were gutter trash from the day you were born. Of course you were. That's what suits you! You were never meant to live the way we do!"
"But a woman like me fell in love anyway. Even though I'm nothing but trouble... even though my personality is rotten... even though I hide my past because I'm too scared to face it."
"He told me he loved it. The man I love loved even the parts of me I hate. So tell me—where exactly is the room for me to break?"
"Fine... then let's see this through to the end, you gutter-trash bitch!"
"Butterfly Flower Sword Style, First Sword."
Scattering flower petals and butterflies drifted in from somewhere, and in that instant, Yeon—who had been swinging her sword—vanished from sight.
"Dream of the Butterfly Lord!"
And then, hundreds of blades materialized in her wake.
But perhaps it was only natural that a disciple of a Sword Master could receive them.
—Kagagagagang!
Strained, but she seemed able to hold her ground.
"This is all... you have?"
"Sea Link Style, First Sword—Surging Break."
"Butterfly Flower Sword Style, First Sword—Dream of the Butterfly Lord."
Hundreds of blades collided with a sword compressing blue Sword Flame into its edge.
—Kigigik...!
The contest of strength was dead even.
Neither could claim the advantage. But when blade met blade—
there were far more weapons at one's disposal than the sword alone.
—BAM!
"Ugh!"
The very moment their swords were locked together, Yeon twisted her body to make Narae stagger—
and seizing that opening, slammed a kick into her thigh, piling heavy damage onto the leg.
Of course. When someone was pouring their strength into their blade, the sword would naturally sway in the direction they were pushing. Yeon had merely pretended to clash blades with her, twisting her body mid-exchange to land a feinted strike.
Any long weapon, once its wielder's body suffered strain or damage, could no longer be wielded at full capacity—and for anyone short of a seasoned master, that meant a drastic drop in performance.
Even for a master, an injury to the very part of the body used to swing the weapon made the consequences far graver.
The abdomen, the wrist, the thigh—all fell into that category.
A blow to the thigh meant the leg's strength would fail, and the space in which one could move freely became dangerously limited.
Certainly, one could still push through the pain and cover greater distance by overworking the thigh...
—Stagger...!
but the real problem was that a moment would inevitably come when balance could no longer be held—a brief, fatal wobble.
Among beginners, a lapse of that length meant nothing. But this was not a contest between novices. This was a duel between masters—between Sword Masters.
And naturally, that single difference was precisely what decided victory and defeat.
Yeon charged at her once more.
"Sea Link Style, Third Sword—Wave-Sundering Sword!"
But her opponent, too, was a Sword Master, it seemed.
Facing Yeon's charge, Narae swept her blade upward from below with a flourish, as if hauling an ocean wave up out of the sea.
Yeon answered:
"Watch closely. This is a sword I made with my own hands, for the sake of my man."
[Butterfly Flower Sword Style, Third Sword—Peach Blossoms on the Path]
Countless peach and apricot trees bloomed from her Sword Flame, petals falling one by one, spreading their fragrance across the field in a wide arc.
Soon, that fragrance parted even the wave that came crashing down upon her—
and it was only when it reached the throat of the one who had summoned that wave that the fragrance finally stopped.
—Srrrng...
"Don't move. Unless you want to die."
Narae raised her sword in resistance—but the victory had already been decided.
Yeon's [Starlight] was already resting against her throat. The moment she lifted her blade, her throat would be severed on the spot.
"The winner: Seventh Disciple, Hwa Yeon."
Victory belonged, as it should have, to Yeon. Defeat belonged to her senior martial sister.
Yeon came running to me and buried herself in my arms.
"Hyeon! I won!!"
"Yeah. I watched every second of it. Magnificent. That's my Yeon."
"Hehe...! This feels so good..."
When I stroked her hair, she smiled so brightly it was almost too much to bear.
Narae, meanwhile, approached her senior martial brother Jin In after her defeat—but Jin In simply sneered.
"You lost to that half-wit? You must have been slacking in your training."
"N-No, senior brother!"
"Then your talent must be lacking. How you manage to lose to a woman that dim-witted is beyond me."
He raked her over the coals with vicious cruelty—and the depth of his loathing for Yeon was so profound, so unprovoked, that I couldn't begin to fathom the reason for it.
Next came the duel between Jin In and Yeon.
Properly speaking, she should have rested and replenished her strength before the next bout—but Yeon insisted on proceeding, claiming her body had only just loosened up.
Ryu Shin seemed worried about her.
Well.
From where I stood, she didn't look tired at all.
Whenever Yeon dueled me, she was always drenched in sweat—every nerve strung taut as she dodged and deflected my attacks, never knowing where they would come from next.
Yet even in this duel, which was far rougher than her bout with that woman Narae, she had barely broken a single drop of sweat.
In other words, it proved that what she'd said was true—her body had only just truly loosened up.
Of course, there was no way Ryu Shin hadn't noticed that as well.
He was simply sending her a look that said, wouldn't it be wiser to rest, just in case...? I worry about you—that was all.
Yeon's true strength began now.
And so, the second duel: Jin In versus Yeon.
"Fourth Disciple, Jin In."
"Yes."
"Seventh Disciple, Hwa Yeon."
"Yes."
"Are you ready?"
"Ready."
The black blade slid from its sheath once more, leveled straight ahead.
Similarly, he drew a gray blade from his own sword, regarding her with eyes brimming over with hostility.
"Begin."
The instant the signal rang out—
[Sea Link Style, Second Sword—Flowing Water Sword]
He accelerated like water, closing in on his opponent—a movement technique, it seemed.
And it was the right answer.
Ordinarily, the standard way to pin down opponents whose swordplay could dart through the air and conjure phantoms was to move this fast, make your position impossible to gauge, and strike at close quarters.
That technique existed precisely to catch light, dazzling, airborne swords.
The problem was that his opponent was the wrong one for it.
Because Yeon—
"I know how to use a heavy sword too."
"Butterfly Flower Sword Style, Fourth Sword—Falling Blossom."
She simply dropped her blade from above to below.
Yet the technique generated an absurd, unnatural weight.
She'd told me she created it with Ryu Shin two days ago, and had asked me to spar with her so she could test it...
The first thing I felt when I received that technique for the first time was: heavy.
And the faster and lighter she moved, the heavier the blade became—twofold, every time.
When I'd wrapped myself in wind to block that sword, I genuinely thought I was going to die.
A technique that even I would struggle to defend against if I failed to evade it.
That was 'Falling Blossom.'
—KUUUUNG!!!
Naturally, he had moved swiftly to pin Yeon down—and what met him instead was the very blade he most needed to avoid.
The heavy sword of wulin legend, the zhongjian, came crashing down upon him.
"Ghhk...!"
Fortunately, the experience he had accumulated over the years was not inconsiderable, and he held on, more or less.
Though "holding on" was all he managed—he had no countermeasure of any kind to offer.
And this was the perfect moment for Yeon's follow-up strike.
Withdrawing her blade to release him from the crushing pressure all at once, Yeon—
"Butterfly Flower Sword Style, Second Sword—Flower-Interval Dance."
—erased her presence from before his eyes in an instant.
Like peach blossoms scattering in beautiful profusion, and the butterflies flitting between them.
She moved as if to say, go on—try and find me.
And of course, she did not let the opening go to waste.
- Swish!
- Swish!
Leaving shallow wounds across his thighs and arms, she dealt small but certain damage with every pass.
He, meanwhile, still could not locate her at all.
"You cowardly... bitch! Where are you!"
- Whuum!
He raged, slashing wildly at the scattering petals and butterflies—but Yeon wasn't there, so of course nothing fell.
"Wave-Sundering Sword!"
Out of options, he flared his Sword Flame and swept his blade upward, shaping a wave to flush Yeon out from among the petals—and the flowers scattered entirely before him.
"Are you an idiot? What about the petals still drifting behind you?"
My thought was right on the mark. Where Yeon reappeared—
was directly behind him.
But perhaps he was determined not to share his junior martial sister's fate.
"Surging Break."
He caught her descending blade, locking it in place to pin her down.
And to shake her spirit, he hurled every insult he could muster at her.
"You stupid bitch. If only you'd kept your mouth shut... if only you'd never left our dojo, none of this would've ever happened—no losing at swords, no wandering the world without one to hold."
"Lose here, and our disciples will happily take you and play with you in that man's stead."
"Do you have any idea how badly your Third Disciple, Su, and your Sixth Disciple, Bin, want to see what's under that skin of yours?"
And yet, even hearing all of that, Yeon simply answered:
"I know. Their filthy eyes are so obvious I couldn't miss them if I tried. Did you really think I never noticed you all staring at nothing but my chest?"
"So... good, if you already knew. You were nearly sold off to a brothel once, weren't you? So hand yourself over to us nicely, then."
"Sorry, but... if you win, this body stops belonging to me alone. I'd rather die... than let it be you."
"You... did you just say 'you'? To your senior martial brother, who stands as high as the heavens—you called me you?"
"Then those bastards of yours, leering at my body like starving dogs—do I owe them the respect of calling them 'senior brother'? Do I?"
"And who the hell do you think you're looking at, you son of a bitch? Did you save me the way Hyeon did? Did you share my pain, ache for my past the way he does?"
"Your pain is none of my damn business. If you're destined for a brothel, then act like it."
He shoved his blade harder against hers, all while shamelessly drinking in the sight of Yeon's chest.
God, how I wanted to snap that man's neck right here and now and throw him across the arena.
But I had made a promise to Yeon on the way to this training hall, and so I held myself back.
About an hour earlier—
"Hyeon. Even if I'm subjected to every kind of insult during this duel... even if they lay hands on me... you cannot interfere."
"....."
"I understand how you feel. If I ever saw someone leer at you like that, someone insult you like that—I'd jump in too, without a second thought."
"But this isn't just about my revenge. It's my vow. I want to shed this fear, once and for all."
"Yeon, but..."
Her expression had been utterly, unshakably serious.
No help. No consideration. Not even a glance of concern, even if she found herself in genuine danger—that was what she demanded of me.
As if to say: you've carried me this far, so this time, let me stand on my own.
All I could do was nod, the taste of it bitter on my tongue.
I could not live her life for her—and I didn't want to.
All I could do was give everything I had so that she could find her happiness.
And if her vow was the shortest road to that happiness—
then I had to walk forward too, trusting in that vow.
Recalling that moment, I clenched my fist tight and swallowed my fury.
In the meantime—
Yeon's blade was beginning to give ground. The contest of strength was evidently taking its toll on her.
"Yes... if I win here, maybe I'll spread you out beneath me after all."
"....."
But his resolve was shattered to pieces by Yeon's sword.
—Clang!
Mid-struggle, she wrung out a burst of strength and knocked his blade away—
then turned her sword vertical and drove it in without hesitation, aiming straight for his face.
—Kigigigigik!!
Both blades were wreathed in Sword Flame, but at their core, both were steel.
Steel devouring steel, each blade grinding into the other as the swords forced their way toward one another.
That technique... it's Ellie's and mine.
Our signature move—designed to fluster an opponent and freeze them in a single instant of hesitation.
[Butterfly Flower Sword Style, First Sword—Dream of the Butterfly Lord]
The sword that had split into hundreds came raining down, each blade flying straight for him.
He shifted his stance in a desperate bid to meet them—
but hundreds of blades had already arrived at his throat.
Victory, inevitably, belonged to Yeon.
"The winner: Seventh Disciple, Hwa Yeon!"
Yeon sheathed her sword and returned it to its scabbard—
and the moment the blade settled home, she ran to me and threw herself into my arms once more.
There was only one difference this time.
She was crying. Happy tears.
"...Thank you...! Without you, Hyeon... I never even would have thought of it. I'd have stayed frozen in my past forever, chained to that place... Thank you... I'm... I'm so, so grateful to you...!"
And so, while Yeon wept tears of joy in my arms—
the losers were left to swallow the bitter draught of their defeat.
And then, at that moment—
The duels were over. And yet a Sword Flame that had no business existing on those blades...
wreathed the Fourth Disciple, and then the Fifth as well, both of them leveling their swords straight at me.
"You dare... set your sights on our plaything? If it weren't for you, that woman would have been our plaything for the rest of her life!"
"So?"
My brazen calm threw them off. The ones issuing the threat were the ones left stammering nonsense.
"What did you say?"
"What are you going to do about it? Care for a round?"
You dare point your swords at me?
Killing intent charged with the overwhelming power of a Creator God washed over them.
And yet they endured it, swords still raised against me to the very last.
What on earth could have driven them... this far?
The moment I decided enough was enough and reached for my Guardian Lance—
the one who stepped in front of me was none other than their master, Ryu Shin.
He closed the distance to my side in an instant, spreading his killing intent in every direction—
and his silver sword was leveled, not at me, but at his own disciples.
The eyes with which Ryu Shin now regarded his disciples were no longer the eyes of a father looking upon his beloved children.
They were the eyes of a man gazing upon villains. Upon demons.