Chapter 10
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Martial Arts Tournament?
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Fights between scrubs are the most fun.
Si-woo had no choice but to nod in agreement.
"But why are you telling me all this?"
Bi Seong-ja, who had ordered some bamboo leaf liquor, continued.
"Hmm... young hero, to be honest, it's because you seem like a pretty skilled fighter. Ah! I mean skilled for a third-rate. Aah, don't scowl. I'm not insulting you. Anyway, in my expert opinion, you're the pinnacle of third-rates. The absolute peak of third-rate, you could say."
"...Stop calling me third-rate over and over. It makes even a third-rate like me feel bad."
"Hmm... Most other third-rate martial artists proudly boast about being warriors. How unusual..."
Bi Seong-ja said as he poured himself a cup of bamboo leaf liquor.
"Here, have a cup first."
The conversation naturally turned into a drinking session. The guy had some real nerve.
Si-woo chuckled and downed a cup of bamboo leaf liquor.
"Whew... that's strong stuff."
He stuck out his tongue at the high-proof liquor. Bi Seong-ja poured another cup and spoke.
"Haha! Anyway. I'm telling you about the tournament because, obviously... it's about money."
Si-woo's ears perked up. Money was always better in greater quantities.
"Money?"
"What can't be missing from a fight spectacle?"
Something clicked in Si-woo's mind. Fights naturally meant...
"Gambling?"
Bi Seong-ja clapped his hands together.
"Exactly! No fight is complete without gambling. I'm planning to bet my entire fortune on you. My eye for talent never misses...!"
For a moment, Si-woo wondered if the guy was insane.
It was absurd, but the reasoning was clear enough. Money...
"On your word alone?"
"Haha... you're a shrewd one. I'm good for about 50 silver taels. Nine-to-one, how about it?"
"Me at nine?"
"...Of course not. Eight-to-two? They say the winner gets an elixir too. That'll naturally be yours."
Si-woo froze. Every movement stopped.
'An elixir...?'
Now, even if someone tried to stop him, he'd enter the tournament.
But he casually sipped his liquor and grumbled curtly.
"I've got about 10 silver taels myself. Let's make it five-to-five."
"Whew... you're a tough one, as expected of a peak third-rate. Seven-to-three it is."
Si-woo poured Bi Seong-ja a cup of bamboo leaf liquor.
"Call."
"Call?"
"Means you're in. Let's do it."
*
The day of the tournament.
For a full week, he'd holed up in his room practicing the Mixed Origin Qi Art.
He'd succeeded in recapturing the sensation he'd felt falling off the cliff.
Now, at the very least, he could naturally handle one stream of qi at a time.
Following Bi Seong-ja's guidance, he entered a three-story building.
It was packed with people. He was a little impressed by the crowd so dense there was barely room to stand.
Amid the throng, he spotted a square stage.
But...
"You bastard! This isn't a martial arts tournament—it's a gambling den!"
No matter how he looked at it, it was a betting parlor.
Bi Seong-ja, sweating bullets, made excuses.
"Haha... I didn't lie. The winner does get an elixir, and it's officially called a martial arts tournament."
At that moment, someone stepped onto the stage. A voice infused with inner power boomed in all directions.
"Thank you all for coming to our Golden Flower Merchant today. I am Jang Deok-bae, a first-rate warrior affiliated with the Golden Flower Merchant, serving as judge for today's martial arts tournament. And..."
"...the grand prize for the winner is a 100-Year Hwasu Root! An elixir that grants five years of inner power if fully absorbed. With that, let the martial arts tournament begin!"
Si-woo let out a sigh and relaxed his scowl at the judge's words.
Bi Seong-ja, who'd been watching his reaction, whispered softly.
"...Ahem. The prize is indeed an elixir. And... you win by getting five straight victories up there, or holding out until no more challengers come."
"Sigh... fine, whatever."
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
"Woooaaah!"
Dong! Dong!
With the drumbeats signaling the start, a hulking giant leaped onto the stage.
"I am the Giant Force Tyrant Yang Chung-gon!!"
With the real action beginning, Si-woo grew interested too. The crowd cheered for the first challenger.
"Woooaaah!!"
Bi Seong-ja nodded in admiration.
"Giant Force Tyrant Yang Chung-gon! What a guy."
"Giant Force Tyrant? Is he that strong?"
The nickname alone made him sound like a powerhouse.
"Haha! As if... But that's what makes him impressive. A third-rate who goes around shouting 'Giant Force Tyrant' at everyone—and he still has his head. In a way, that's truly remarkable."
"Huh..."
The Giant Force Tyrant Yang Chung-gon swung his massive cleaver around wildly and bellowed.
"Uahahahaha! Is there anyone brave enough to face me?!"
Someone climbed onto the stage to challenge the Giant Force Tyrant Yang Chung-gon.
"Hahaha! Yang Chung-gon! I'll be your opponent."
A hairy brute slung a huge axe over his shoulder and strode up confidently.
Bi Seong-ja, watching intently and pondering deeply, prompted Si-woo to ask.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
"Hmm... calculating who's going to win. Just a moment..."
Bi Seong-ja dashed off to the gambling corner. When he returned from the betting area, a strange madness gleamed in his eyes.
He kept licking his lips, his mouth dry with anticipation.
"...Who'd you bet on? Got a pick?"
"Bet? I never gamble. I only make logical investments. By my calculations, the Giant Force Tyrant wins."
"I see..."
Si-woo tilted his head. They looked evenly matched. It'd come down to luck.
After time for bets, the match began.
Dong-!
The Giant Force Tyrant Yang Chung-gon charged the instant the drum sounded.
The hairy brute, fumbling into a half-hearted salute, panicked.
The hairy brute barely dodged the thrust cleaver.
But his balance was already shot. He fell into a defensive scramble against the follow-up attacks and lost pathetically.
"Kuh...! Damn it. Sneaky bastard...!"
"Uahahahaha! Victory is mine!!"
"Woooaaah! Giant Force Tyrant! Giant Force Tyrant!"
"Uwaaagh! Nooo! My money!!"
Bi Seong-ja roared in triumph.
"Yes!! That's it! Kahaha!"
Si-woo was impressed.
"Whoa... you actually nailed it. How'd you do that?"
Bi Seong-ja glanced around before whispering secretively. He hesitated several times, reluctant to share, before speaking.
"...This is my secret technique. The Giant Force Tyrant was enjoying the stage. But his opponent kept glancing at the crowd. It was a close call, but that's what clinched it. Heh heh...! Netted me 5 silver taels!"
Si-woo opened his mouth, then just closed it.
"Uh... yeah... okay."
*
The tournament raced toward its conclusion.
Si-woo glanced at Bi Seong-ja. His eyes were bloodshot, and blood trickled from his bitten lips after gnawing on them so much.
The result of his repeated trips to the gambling den.
"...You should get ready to go up soon. If you get five straight wins, I'll bet everything I have. Three shares out of ten are yours if we win...!"
Bi Seong-ja's voice cracked like rusted iron. In half a day, he'd become utterly haggard.
Si-woo nodded.
He was the same. He'd bet all 15 silver taels left after room expenses—everything on himself.
*
He stepped onto the stage.
Drew his sword and pointed it at his opponent.
The opponent, with three wins under his belt, raised his sword. He stylishly thrust in all directions, showing off his martial arts.
Shick! Shick! Shick!
Si-woo felt a slight tension. Standing before so many people for the first time had its pull. There was a strange magnetism in the crowd's gaze.
His opponent sneered at Si-woo.
"Haha... a greenhorn, eh? Nervous? Why don't you step down before you get hurt?"
Si-woo swung his sword and chuckled. The taunt eased his nerves a bit.
"What? Scared you'll lose? If you're afraid, you go down."
"...Haha. You're done for."
The opponent gritted his teeth and dropped into stance.
Dong-!
They charged together at the drumbeat. The movements were crystal clear.
'What a scrub.'
He met the downward sword strike with his own blade. Using the Mixed Origin Qi's adhesion technique, he stuck their swords together for good measure.
The guy instinctively yanked his sword back. Si-woo pushed forward in sync.
A beat slower, yet the sword didn't slip away. Thanks to the adhesion.
The moment the flustered opponent pulled in the opposite direction...
Si-woo yanked hard. The opponent's sword spun through the air and clattered to the floor.
The opponent cried out in shock.
"S-Sword adhesion...?!"
Sword adhesion.
An ultimate supreme technique that reads the opponent's every move to control their blade.
Of course not. He'd just crudely ripped the clinging sword away by force.
He thrust at the now-unarmed opponent.
A clean, no-frills stab. No third-rate could block it barehanded.
The opponent tumbled across the stage, yelling.
"I-I surrender!! Surrender!!"
Si-woo couldn't help but laugh. Winning in front of a crowd felt exhilarating.
Looking up from the floor, the opponent shouted.
"Damn it...! No way you're third-rate. Hey, judge! Check him, check him!!"
"Aw, come on, don't be such a sore loser."
The crowd jeered.
"Boo! Quit your whining. You lost—get off!"
"Uwaaagh! No! My money!! It's rigged!!"
The judge approached amid the explosive atmosphere, clicking his tongue.
"Do you agree to an inner power check?"
"Yes, let's do it."
Si-woo extended his wrist. It was a common sight with skilled fighters lately.
The judge gripped his wrist, rolled his eyes appraisingly, and spoke.
"Whew... third-rate confirmed. Very impure, less than a year's cultivation—prime third-rate stuff."
"What!? No way...!!"
"Tch! You doubting my word?"
Under the glare of the Golden Flower Merchant's famed first-rate warrior, the opponent deflated instantly.
"N-No, sir. I must've lost my mind for a second."
"Tch."
The opponent bowed his head obsequiously in an instant.
Si-woo stretched and scanned the surroundings. Plenty of spectators, but he wasn't tense anymore.
'Easier than I thought. Time to feast.'
Si-woo wagged his sword teasingly at the crowd on all sides.
"Cocky punk!"
A ponytail youth vaulted up with a flourish.
The briefly subdued atmosphere reignited.
His spear-wielding opponent assumed position.
Dong-!
The drum rang out.
"Die!"
The spear shot forward like an arrow.
Clang!
Si-woo deflected it with his sword and closed in instantly. He followed with a flurry of swings.
"Kuhk...!"
The opponent's defenses scrambled. He backpedaled in a flash.
The moment he yielded ground, the outcome was set.
"I-I've lost..."
"Woooaaah!"
The others were the same.
The third fell to a swift swordplay emphasizing speed, blade at his throat before he could react.
The fourth lost even without Si-woo using inner power.
"Whoa...! Impressive. What's that guy's name?"
"What was it again, Si-woo?"
Si-woo looked for Bi Seong-ja. He clutched a stick, eyes injected with blood, grinning maniacally.
The eerie smile made Si-woo's brow furrow involuntarily.
He kept licking his dry lips and chuckling.
'Ugh... madman.'
The sudden appearance of a strong contender drew cheers. The third-rate hopefuls who'd been eyeing a shot all sat back down.
The judge stepped forward and announced.
"If no challenger appears in the next ten counts, the winner will be decided. One... twooo...!"
With each count, Bi Seong-ja's mouth gaped wider. His eyes bulged, his whole body quaking with ecstasy.
"Woooaaah!"
Then someone leaped onto the stage.
A long-haired woman, tied back tightly, flipped through the air gracefully to land.
Her movements were fluid and natural.
Si-woo was a bit surprised to see her.
Plain looks, but flawless, pale skin.
His eyes lingered on her well-proportioned figure. But he couldn't tear away from her unassuming stance.
There were no openings.
She was a cut above Si-woo.