Chapter 33
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: The First Taste of Defeat is Filthily Bitter
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I was so startled by the sudden reunion that I just blinked in surprise, but Namgung Seheon furrowed his brow and let out an irritated sigh.
“Hey, are you deaf? Where are the Mount Hua Sect’s third-generation disciples?”
“Can’t you tell from our clothes?”
My tone turned snide on its own. You reap what you sow.
I proudly pointed to the plum blossom embroidered on the chest of my training uniform, and the sickly pretty boy standing next to Namgung Seheon nodded.
“That plum blossom emblem is definitely Mount Hua’s uniform.”
Namgung Seheon pretended to ponder his friend’s words for a moment before arrogantly beckoning with his finger.
“I’m not interested in street urchins like you. Go call the core disciples.”
“We are the core disciples, you punk.”
I wasn’t going to waste words on someone who didn’t even know what the five petals meant. Scram.
Namgung Seheon’s eyes widened at my growl, and he asked with a completely innocent face.
“But why are you sweeping? I thought you were servants working for Mount Hua.”
I immediately adjusted my grip on the broom for optimal person-whacking. I thought you’d just grown taller over the past four years, but you’ve cultivated some real cluelessness too, huh.
“Ahh, it must be nice to have grown up all pampered without doing chores like this, young master of the clan.”
Biyeon leaned his chin crookedly on the broom and tossed out the sarcasm.
He stole the line I was about to say. I whipped my head around to glare at him, and Biyeon grinned like he’d done a great job.
“Is the strongest guy here you?”
Ignoring all that, the punk calmly asked Biyeon without missing a beat. Don’t you listen to people?
“No, this guy.”
“No, it’s me.”
Biyeon and I answered at the same time.
Biyeon’s face, as he pointed at me, clearly showed his firm resolve not to get dragged into anything troublesome.
“Oh, really?”
Namgung Seheon shifted his gaze to me, and the corner of his mouth curved up in a smirk.
“Go easy on him, go easy.”
“Hey, Jeokga Yun. Borrow you for a sec.”
As soon as Biyeon gave me that brief warning and stepped back, Namgung Seheon snatched the sword from his friend’s waist and hurled it at me sheath-first.
A real sword. Not the practice wooden sword I was used to.
No wonder they’re from a great clan—they’re already using real swords. Jealous. Some of us are still stuck with wooden ones.
Sigh. For old times’ sake from four years ago, I’d go easy on him.
If I injured him, it’d be a hassle...
‘Crazy...! What a hothead!’
The moment I snatched the heavy flying sword out of the air, Namgung Seheon charged at me without even giving me time to draw it.
I quickly raised the sword horizontally to block the incoming blade sheath-first.
Clang-!
The swords crossed in an X in midair.
‘...Huh?’
I panicked as my body kept sliding back despite putting strength into my legs. Me? Getting pushed back?
My cracked pride gritted my teeth as I held on.
Only after dragging long skid marks in the dirt with my shoes did my backward slide finally stop.
My sword hand trembled from the heavy pressure bearing down.
Namgung Seheon met my eyes and flashed a fierce, competitive grin.
“Oh, not bad?”
“Not bad? What an arrogant little shit.”
His condescending words drew a feral smile from me.
Still blocking his sword, I drew mine from the sheath and flicked my wrist to thrust straight at his side.
‘Damn, not enough...!’
The sword I was familiar with was a wooden one. The one in my hand now was real steel.
The feel and weight of a real sword were still unfamiliar to me, who had only trained with wooden ones.
In short, it didn’t fit my hand yet.
As expected, Namgung Seheon easily parried my slightly underpowered strike. Before I could recover, his counter came flying.
I twisted my body to dodge and thrust upward at an angle with an empty swing, then immediately slashed down. Namgung Seheon blocked the strike upright and stepped into a footwork stance, swinging his sword.
What was the first form of the Six Harmonies Sword? The Falling Petals Sword forms?
Forms I’d drawn hundreds of times.
They came to mind so easily in training or spars with fellow disciples.
But in this first real-combat-like duel, they wouldn’t flow as smoothly as usual.
Twenty forms.
Twenty-five forms.
Over thirty exchanges. Even after more than thirty, Namgung Seheon’s sword showed no signs of faltering.
If anything, I was the one being pushed back, still adjusting to the real sword in my grip.
My palm throbbed around the hilt.
It was the first time. The first time I’d gone beyond thirty forms in a duel.
My first encounter with a peer—a ‘genius’ on my level.
Our gazes clashed in midair. Two pairs of eyes, sharply wary yet unable to hide their intrigue.
‘Just a bit more, just a little longer...!’
If I could just adapt to the weight of the real sword...! But a strike came rushing at me.
Seeing its trajectory, my instincts screamed.
Too late.
I can’t block that.
The heavy blow landed on my blade, sending vibrations straight through. The pain in my hand made me reflexively let go.
Clang-!
The sword slipped from my grasp and clattered to the ground.
I stared blankly at the fallen sword.
I... lost...?
After eight years reborn in Mount Hua, my first real defeat left me dazed. My head spun.
I lost?
Me? The genius swordsman of Mount Hua who’d swung a sword before he could walk, topped the entrance exam, and always stayed five steps ahead of everyone?
Crunch. Footsteps approached, and a shadow fell over me as I stared vacantly at the sword on the ground.
A sharp scoff made me look up.
The two tear moles dotting under his left eye caught my attention first.
Then his cocky gaze looking down at me.
The punk was a bit shorter than me. That made the loss burn even more.
As he sheathed his sword, Namgung Seheon sneered.
“Is Mount Hua’s sword only this good? I had some expectations for the great Mount Hua Sect, but it’s nothing special.”
...What did that punk just say?
Thud. The broom dropped from Biyeon’s hand. Biyeon, who’d been leaning on it, stumbled.
The other disciples’ reactions weren’t much different.
I was the only calm Mount Hua disciple here. Forcing the corners of my mouth up, I asked,
“Hey, buddy, what did you just say?”
“For a great sect, you’re nothing special. And who said we were buddies?”
Ahh, okay. Okay.
Since I can’t even remember your face, it doesn’t matter anyway.
Without a word, I reached out, snatched the sword from Namgung Seheon’s hand, and flung it to the ground.
Namgung Seheon grabbed my sleeve with a panicked face.
“What are you—”
“Mount Hua’s sword lost, so try beating Mount Hua’s fist too, you little shit!”
My furious roar accompanied a full-force haymaker that smashed right into Namgung Seheon’s cheek.
Drip. Clutching his bleeding nose, Namgung Seheon scowled and counterattacked immediately.
Soon, we were grabbing each other by the collar and hair, rolling in the dirt.
This time, the one getting pushed and the one pushing flipped.
No matter the sword duel, in a muddy brawl like this, no pampered clan young master could match a sect disciple who treated dogfights and gang-ups like daily life.
Swordsmanship and fisticuffs are pretty different, ain’t they?
“Hey, anyone hearing you would think you overwhelmingly beat me? You barely won, and now what? Mount Hua’s sword this, that?”
Grumbling nonstop, I irritably shoved off the Zhuge clan punk struggling alone to pry me off Namgung Seheon.
He looked to the other disciples for help, but after hearing him trash Mount Hua, no Mount Hua disciple was going to stop me.
As I wildly threw punches, a clear woman’s voice pierced my ears.
“Seheon? What are you doing?”
I halted my raised fist and turned toward the voice.
A short-haired woman and a man who looked just like Namgung Seheon’s friend, arm-in-arm beside her, came into view.
They looked no older than late teens at most.
The Zhuge clan punk’s face brightened, and Namgung Seheon called out to them.
“Little brother! Se-eun sis!”
“Sis!”
Tch, family backup? I clicked my tongue and started to get up, but froze at what Namgung Seheon’s sister said next.
“Oh my, looks like you’re having fun playing with a friend your age.”
...Um, is this how they roll in the Namgung Family? Your little brother seems pretty unfamiliar with this kind of ‘play.’
“Sis...?”
She beamed at Namgung Seheon, who called her with a bewildered expression and awkward tone, waving her hand breezily.
“Play moderately and come back. Don’t stay out too late.”
With that, she spun on her heel.
Namgung Seheon and the Zhuge punk were so flustered they didn’t even think to grab their siblings, just staring blankly.
“Isn’t anyone going to stop them?”
“Adults don’t butt into kids’ play.”
I gaped at their receding voices.
Her mindset, calling it ‘play’ right up to the end, was almost admirable.
Any urge to keep beating him vanished as I scratched my head and fully got off Namgung Seheon.
“Sigh, get lost.”
I waved him off, and Namgung Seheon propped himself up, wiping his busted lip with the back of his hand as he looked up at me.
“...Suddenly?”
“Can you find Yukcheong Pavilion?”
I didn’t expect directionally challenged Namgung Seheon to know the way, so I asked the Zhuge clan punk standing there dumbly instead.
“I know it roughly...”
Oh, as expected of one of the Five Great Clans— the brains type. But ‘roughly’ didn’t inspire confidence.
“It’s getting dark, and it’s us who’d be hassled if two kids got lost wandering around. So hurry up and follow your bro and sis.”
At my words, the Zhuge punk grabbed the two swords and dragged Namgung Seheon toward where his brother had gone.
I flashed a crooked grin and leisurely waved as Namgung Seheon glared back at me while being hauled away.
Once they’d shrunk to dots and vanished, I whipped around to Biyeon and urgently asked,
“Did I look like I was fighting?”
“Yeah, anyone could tell you had a proper scrap.”
I let out a silent scream at Biyeon’s nodding reply.
“We’re in deep shit! I have to go give evening greetings to Master soon!”
At my shout, the disciples flailed for a second before snapping into action.
“I’ll fetch water to wash your face! Just say you took a tumble for the wounds!”
“Dust first! Brush the dirt off your uniform!”
“Redo your hair too!”
Their unity was impeccable. This was Mount Hua’s true strength!