Sichuan's Greatest Wandering Warrior: Ace Instructor ~Live Combat Edition~ Part 3

"What—?"

Kang Jun staggered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back in shock. Having his own attack cleanly countered seemed to have drained the blood from his head and returned it to where it belonged.

His dirty play had left me no choice but to block with a half-drawn blade — and even from an objective standpoint, it was a moment worth admiring.

Stopping a strike without fully drawing your sword doesn't simply mean you failed to unsheathe it. As long as the scabbard remains fixed to your belt, a half-drawn block ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can only cancel an opponent's attack from an extremely limited angle. You have to intercept the blow without ever settling into a proper guard, working only within that narrow window — that is what makes a half-drawn block possible.

And I had done it twice in succession. On top of that, I had sent the force of the impact back into him, shattering the flow of his technique entirely.

Even people who know nothing about martial arts still have instincts. No matter how clueless the crowd at Gyeongsu Market might be, they would at least have registered that the man who casually swatted aside a surprise attack and forced his opponent to retreat was no ordinary fighter.

I bit my lip.

Out of pure frustration.

The commission for clearing black-path thugs out of Gyeongsu Market was a perfectly ordinary mid-tier job. And yet here I was, handing out premium techniques that even a high-tier commission might not warrant! It was exactly like taking an order for a medium sweet-and-sour pork and then cheerfully piling on a large portion's worth of meat.

As if that weren't bad enough, Black Cat was watching from behind. Absolute humiliation.

But I was a seven-year professional Sichuan nangin. The free service had already been delivered — all I could do now was jack up the customer satisfaction rating.

Taegyeongmun, you lucky bastards. You hit the jackpot today.

Kang Jun, still one step back, eyed me warily. A bottom-tier sect that could barely scrape together a mid-level commission had suddenly been handed high-tier service or better, and he looked thoroughly flustered — like a regular guy who booked a motel based on the price alone, only to discover it was actually a hotel, with a bellboy already rushing over to take his bags.

My gut twisted.

From this point on I had no choice but to deliver high-tier service or above — and wasn't that entirely because this bastard had played dirty? A man who ignored basic courtesy, who drew his sword without so much as a word of warning, even though I was a service worker. If I'd been an ordinary second-rate warrior, that surprise attack might well have left me injured.

And now I had to give a VIP experience to a guy like that? Commission be damned — I wanted to thresh the corn right out of his skull.

Count yourself lucky. If I hadn't swaggered out here telling Black Cat to sit back and watch, I would already have flipped this entire place upside down.

"Hmph. Not bad. To think you could block my ultimate technique — the Death-Escape Reverse Curve Sword."

Of course no such ultimate technique existed. Why would I waste a precious martial arts slot learning half-drawn sword arts?

Kang Jun stayed on guard.

What are you doing, kid? This is your moment to advertise your chivalrous spirit and your martial arts. Say something already.

When ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your opponent deploys a "Not bad," the correct response is to fire back a "You as well" — acknowledging your opponent with magnanimous grace, appealing to the crowd, and creating a synergy that makes the whole duel look spectacular. That's basic.

Roughly five to ten seconds passed.

This idiot had zero sense. He just kept staring me down without a single line of dialogue.

Even the crowd, which had been waiting for some heroic declaration of chivalry, began to look puzzled as they watched Kang Jun.

This is exactly why bottom-tier sects never work out. No fundamentals. No fundamentals at all. The Taegyeongmun disciples who had arrived with Kang Jun were just standing there staring too, showing no sign of moving.

When your lead actor freezes up, you're supposed to jump in from the wings and support him — not just gawk. Offstage backup is what keeps the show running. Did you come here on a field trip? Are you here for the live viewing experience? You'll go back to your sect and spin this like you did something impressive, won't you?

At this rate the whole production was going to collapse. I had no choice but to roll out additional service.

"Heh heh. Fancy yourself a chivalrous hero, do you?"

Yi-ho, so overwhelmed by the atmosphere that he couldn't even scream properly, was still letting out nothing but weak whimpers. I shifted the foot that had been planted on his wrist. Twisting my whole body into it, I ground down as if I meant to pulverize the joint completely.

"AAAAAARGH!"

"YOU BASTARD!!"

Only then did Kang Jun react.

"I will never understand these so-called heroes. Your hostage is captured, and you can't even manage a proper attack — can't even manage a comeback. What exactly do you plan to do with a life lived like that?"

Among the heroes the crowd cheers for, who ranks highest?

Obviously, the one with strong martial arts and a burning sense of justice.

If Kang Jun had simply stood there while I trampled his sect and his affiliation, waiting until I drew my sword, I would have casually unsheathed it and goaded him. Enraged, Kang Jun would have whirled his blade around — and I would have yelped "Mommy!" yanked my foot off Yi-ho, and scrambled backward.

Then I'd fire off the classic loser lines — "I let my guard down" and "Now I'm serious" — trade a few halfhearted exchanges, gasp that I couldn't hold out any longer, fake an internal injury, and bolt into a back alley. Done.

Kang Jun of Taegyeongmun, instantly crushing a detestable Sichuan nangin who, black-path or not, had been mercilessly torturing a man! No setup required, no dialogue needed — pure, refreshing catharsis itself!

But this bastard had ambushed me, and the "strong martial arts" half of the equation had gotten tangled. His surprise attack had been casually bounced back by a wandering warrior's counter. Who in this crowd would believe Kang Jun's martial arts were anything special now?

So I needed to implant a new fact in their minds: Ah — that last attack wasn't his full power.

The pacing would drag and the catharsis would dilute, but asking me to craft a masterpiece out of a partner this frozen was a tall order even for Ho Cheon-an, a seven-year ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠industry veteran director.

"At this rate, nothing will end."

I lifted my foot off Yi-ho and strode forward.

Kang Jun was a stone — a rock that couldn't generate its own light. So I would have to shine for him. There is only one way to resuscitate a hero whose presence has the airtime of an extra:

Defeat a villain who left a powerful impression on the audience.

After all, a hero's entire reason for existing is to take down villains like that. Beat a spectacular enough villain, and every other action gets polished up for free. That blank-faced silence when the villain was taunting him? It would be reinterpreted as a warm heart — the kind that stayed quiet for fear of further harming the hostages — and become grounds for praise.

Which meant I had to become a villain who delivered pure shock and terror to the crowd.

My eyes, hidden beneath the black bamboo hat, swept the ground in a flash. Yi-ho had been overused — his image wasn't fresh anymore. Il-ho? That one was humanly just too big.

And then something snagged my gaze.

Sa-ho.

The loose martial robes would have hidden it from anyone else, but I knew — I'd shoved him aside earlier when I blocked the Twin Dragon Palm. Sa-ho was a stick figure. All bone. His face didn't look particularly gaunt, and for how skinny he was, he was surprisingly tall.

Sa-ho possessed the ideal physical conditions, as if he had been born for this exact moment.

As if entranced, I grabbed Sa-ho by the collar and hauled him up.

I can do this. With Sa-ho, I can make it happen.

I tightened my grip.

Dumping my precious internal energy into a performance was, under normal circumstances, unthinkable. This show had zero variable control — there was no telling what kind of emergency might erupt. In a situation like that, conserving your internal energy was the only correct choice.

But right now, I had to do it.

Seven years of living as a Sichuan nangin. The vision of crafting the single greatest scene of those seven years rose crystal-clear in my mind.

The artistic soul inside me spoke.

"In that case — you! Kang Jun of Taegyeongmun! Master of the One Step Three Swords! Die for the sake of others!"

Sa-ho flew.

His weight, lighter than most women, combined with a body trained to the absolute limit of the second-rate realm, plus the principles of the throwing art I had learned — the Wood-Stone Throwing Technique — and on top of all that, nine-tenths of my internal energy poured into the throw.

Sa-ho traced a parabola through the air, thrashing his arms and legs wildly. Even though this was reality and not a recording, every motion of his body and every expression on his face burned into my vision as vividly as if it had been hit with a slow-motion effect.

Could there be a more impactful scene than this?

A villain who used a human being as an obstacle without the slightest hesitation. A victim soaring through the air at that villain's hands. And the hero who had to save the victim and defeat the villain — the chivalrous Kang Jun!

"AAAAAAAH!!!"

"OOOOOOH!!"

Feeling the crowd's screams and their eyes wide with horror, I was certain.

I had absolutely crushed it.

Ho Cheon-an, seven years a Sichuan nangin. I had birthed countless legends and myths — but today, I could feel it in my skin: a new legend was being born, one that surpassed even the me of those seven years.

With that certainty, I locked my eyes forward.

Kang Jun and Sa-ho collided. He seemed to have tried to catch him fully, but catching a flying human cleanly is hard no matter who you are. At any rate, Sa-ho hit the ground without any broken bones, and Kang Jun was left staggering.

I was already running.

Watching the collision, modulating my speed as I closed the distance, I waited until I was sure Kang Jun could still raise his sword — then closed in fast and leapt.