Chapter 48
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: The First Defeat Tastes Fucking Bitter
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The first match, which set the tone, ended in my overwhelming victory, leaving the Mount Hua side buzzing with excitement.
The elders were all puffed up with pride, and the second-generation disciples looked like they could burst from smug satisfaction.
The third-generation disciples seemed more burdened by their own upcoming matches than awed by their cool senior's win.
I flashed a smug grin at the subtly deflated Wudang side and at Baekyun, who had his head hung low.
But that warm atmosphere didn't last.
'...We're screwed when we get back to Mount Hua.'
I swallowed dryly as the mood flipped.
Three of Mount Hua's third-generation disciples had lost in a row. The once even win-loss ratio had tilted sharply.
I envied the revitalized Wudang side. Was this how they felt just a few dozen minutes ago?
A few of us third-generation disciples, including me, had moved right under the sparring platform to escape the increasingly heavy air.
"Bidam, no four in a row!"
Biwon, who'd contributed to the three-peat loss, yelled desperately at Bidam, who stood tensely on the platform.
Bidam's face shifted from moderate tension to looking like he might puke from overkill anxiety at the shout.
A Wudang third-generation disciple staring at Bidam's sword chuckled.
"Where'd you pick that up?"
Offended by the mocking remark, I jabbed a finger at him wildly.
"Hey, do you know what kind of sword our Bidam's got? That sword—"
"Agh! Senior, please!"
Bidam cut me off urgently just as the sparring signal rang out.
But I kept venting regardless.
"—it's the legendary hero sword that slew a spirit beast and bears a blood curse, and he just picked it up—"
"Uwaaaah! I'm gonna lose it!"
The match ended very quickly. With Bidam's win.
Maybe he instinctively knew he had to end it fast to shut me up, because he attacked in a flash and sent the Wudang guy's sword flying.
As expected from the owner of the King God General Legendary Sword.
Bidam's opponent stared blankly back and forth between his own sword, flung far away, and the shabby one in Bidam's hand, muttering dazedly.
"That sword really is..."
"No! It's not!"
Bidam shook his head furiously, his face beet red.
I let out a sigh of relief as his win softened the irreversible mood, at least for now.
Then Biryeong followed up with a win, and the atmosphere melted away like the freeze had never happened.
Still, Wudang had more wins overall.
I stared blatantly at Biryeong's profile as she sat beside me, fixing her disheveled hair.
"What?"
"Just amazed how someone who's barely held a sword beat a Wudang swordsman after a few years."
I recalled the girl from the selection exam who'd screamed beginner vibes from every pore when she first gripped a sword.
And the sight of her steadily showing up at the training grounds for solo practice, rain or snow be damned.
"Hard work doesn't betray you. I wanted to show you that today, Senior."
Biryeong smiled lightly, relieved she'd finally gotten to prove it.
"What if you'd lost?"
To my mean-spirited question, she replied flatly.
"Then I wouldn't have said it to you, Senior."
No retort to that. Even without fighting, a needless sense of defeat welled up, so I silently turned my gaze to where the Wudang guys were clustered.
They were on the brink of three straight losses, just like us moments ago, but the Wudang third-generation disciples gathered near the platform looked calm.
The opponent facing Bihun—one of our more skilled third-gen disciples—was that weird kid who'd talked about promises with me.
Confidence radiated from his upright posture. He was a head taller than Bihun, who wasn't short himself.
His refined profile showed boredom rather than tension.
The conversation from the nearby Wudang third-gen cluster reached my ears.
"If he loses this one, that's three in a row..."
"Pfft, it's Baek Geon. No way he loses."
Baek Geon.
I blinked at the familiar name etched in my memory.
'Ah, no, it's not that... I have to enter the Dragon-Tiger Assembly sparring next time, but I'm not confident...'
'It's fine. Just spar with me at the Dragon-Tiger Assembly in four years. Losing to the future Mount Hua's top sword isn't embarrassing.'
A conversation sunk deep in my memories bubbled up.
Big, gentle eyes. Height similar to mine. Hunched shoulders. Timid speech and demeanor. That was the Baek Geon I remembered.
I hurriedly scrutinized the boy facing Bihun with his sword.
The only similarity was the slightly down-turned eyes.
'Whoa, that's straight-up evolution.'
There was no trace of the parachute who'd trailed off uncertainly about sparring.
Bihun gritted his teeth and swung fiercely, full of venom...
"That dumbass made his movements needlessly big and exposed a huge opening."
I clicked my tongue, sensing Bihun's defeat.
"Winner: Wudang's Baek Geon!"
No surprises there.
I gave Bihun's back a light pat as he trudged down the platform, his self-esteem crumpled, to say good job.
The sounds of victory cheers from beside us rang out loud and clear.
"Hey, nice one. You saved Wudang today."
"That was awesome, Senior Brother Baek Geon!"
Whenever they treated him like an outcast as the latecomer... Pathetic Wudang, what a joke.
Baek Geon, receiving the flood of praise with an indifferent expression, turned around. Our eyes met in midair.
Since I remembered now, pretending not to know felt awkward, so I gave an embarrassed wave. His eyes curved, and his impassive face broke into a bright smile.
I seriously couldn't recognize him. How's that timid kid the same person?
"Damn it, what's so great about that bastard that he's grinning like an idiot."
Ignoring Bihun's grinding teeth and growling as he saw it, I dropped my hand and averted my gaze. Still, my defeated sect brothers came first over some disciple from another sect I hadn't seen in ages.
An intense stare like "look back just once" poked at the back of my head, but I ignored it. Acknowledging him here would make me a traitor...
The third-gen matches wrapped up with Bihwan against Wudang's top second-gen disciple.
"Bored. Anyone wanna bet? I say Wudang's senior brother wins—two taels."
Worried the adults might overhear and scold us, I whispered low, and my juniors followed suit.
"I'll put two taels on Senior Brother Bihwan."
"Me too, one tael on Senior Brother Bihwan."
"I'll do one on Wudang."
"Oh, then three on Wudang for me."
"Wow, Senior Brother Biwon, you're loaded? Dropping three taels like that."
"I can hear you all, you brats."
Bihwan, looking annoyed from atop the platform, tossed out curtly.
I grinned wide and waved exaggeratedly at him.
"If you're jealous, go win."
"Not like you can say that when you're betting on the opponent."
Bihwan smirked crookedly, placed his hand on his sword hilt, and turned.
In the end, Bihwan lost by a hair.
You have no idea how much I sweated over losing two taels.
Even pitying sighs escaped at how he didn't drop his sword to Wudang's senior brother's final blow.
Wudang's guy was skilled, but Bihwan held his own. I'd thought he was weak since he lost to me so easily in practice.
Anyway, their match confirmed I was the strongest among the third-gen disciples.
"So, what's our final score?"
"6 to 9."
"Whoa, going back to Mount Hua is gonna suck."
If it'd been 7 to 8, I could've at least whined it was close. Tch.
I used to think sparring was the highlight of the Dragon-Tiger Assembly, but now it felt like the corpse flower.
A flower blooming from hell. Fun to watch when you're just spectating with no skin in the game.
I quickly faced forward again, avoiding eye contact with the Sect Leader and elders, whose expressions looked oddly stiff.
The hellish downhill from four years ago, watched from the sidelines, auto-played in my head.
Ahh, that's 'hell' up ahead...!
* * *
Once the third-gen matches ended, the second-gen ones began.
Betting on second-gen matches would've been more than just an X, so we meekly returned to our seats to watch.
Like four years ago, I watched Uiseong face off against Cheonghwi, then nudged Bihwan beside me.
"You're doing a hundred practice matches when we get back."
"I would've won if you hadn't bet against me and just bet on me."
"Huh? It wouldn't be you winning—it'd be me losing two taels. I just bet on the safer side."
Sticking my tongue out at Bihwan's furrowed brow, I barely lifted my creaking head from the heavy hand on it and looked up.
Uihyeon's kindly smiling face came into view.
"Biyeon, I hope not, but did you bet money?"
Master, your eyes aren't smiling.
"Sigh, I even omitted it on purpose, but you dug your own grave, Senior."
Bihwan clicked his tongue with an infuriating smirk. I pretended to listen to the incoming lecture, let it go in one ear and out the other, and vowed.
Even if for my own sake, I'd train in transmission arts after the Dragon-Tiger Assembly ends.
The chairmates dodged my desperate plea to rein in Uihyeon and chatted among themselves.
"Cheonghwi's instructor is consistent too. If it were me, I wouldn't even want to cross swords with a guy who keeps losing."
"I hope he wins once. Makes me root for Wudang at this rate."
"Wait, Uiseong's getting pushed back?"
At Uigang's last words, my eyes snapped to the platform from where they'd been blankly wandering while getting chewed out by Uihyeon.
"...Huh?"
The moment I saw Uiseong drop his sword from Cheonghwi's strike, I bolted up from my seat without thinking.