Successor: Jongchil 4
Finally, the later rounds for the promising talents kicked off. All the half-baked nobodies had been weeded out. Everyone left standing now had at least solid fundamentals.
Of course, there were still plenty of extras who hadn't even gotten a single line in the original story, but even they had the skills to look out for themselves. They were the kind of guys who could make a living with their fists.
As the rounds progressed and the number of matches dwindled, the venues narrowed down to just the Murim Alliance's Hanan branch and the Shaolin Temple. Naturally, the crowds swelled wherever people gathered.
Today's the day Mo Se-young finally fights, huh.
Her opponent was Baek Muk-hwi of the White Fist Palm from the Gold Mountain Baek family.
Gold Mountain Baek Family
A clan mentioned in the original work, though not with much weight—just a single line. They were known for their fist and foot techniques.
They couldn't hold a candle to the Five Great Clans, of course, but they weren't someone Mo Se-young could afford to underestimate. If things followed the original, she'd beat Baek Muk-hwi and advance to the upper rounds.
"Finally, the real tournament begins. I was bored to death watching those worthless punks fight—glad that's over."
"Hey, who'd you bet on? Some solid matchups today."
"Fairy Sect's Mo Se-young, Huashan Sect's Yeon Muk, Jinrinchae's Gwak Cheol-woo, and Namgung Clan’s Namgung Hyeok."
"Isn't that too safe a bet?"
"I don't wanna burn my house down gambling. Who'd you pick?"
"Heard Hyeok's reputation's taken a hit lately. Word is he's in and out of brothels like it's his backyard. And that guy sticking to him? None other than Pang Jin-gun, the infamous Pang family fuckup."
"Everyone who matters already knows that rumor."
"Might be an upset in Hyeok's match..."
"Bullshit. No matter how late he got hooked on pussy, Hyeok's still Hyeok. He'll make at least the quarterfinals in this Yongho Contest, easy."
The hottest topic buzzing among the crowds was gambling. Betting was one of the Yongho Contest's big draws.
With a tournament this massive, insane amounts of money flowed through the betting pools, all managed by the Murim Alliance. Gambling was one of their key revenue streams.
Should I try making a quick buck off the bets?
For the record, contestants couldn't bet on their own matches—too much risk of match-fixing. But other fights were fair game.
Nah, forget it. I don't know every outcome.
Timeline-wise, this was still before the original events. Most of what I knew came from flashbacks, offhand remarks, or mentions in the story. Hard limits on specifics.
Even for this Yongho Contest, I knew the major players' placements but not the full rankings. Info was too sparse—any wins would net pocket change. Not worth the effort for the payoff.
Speaking of, Yeon Muk and Namgung Hyeok are fighting today too.
I hadn't checked their opponents, but both would win. Namgung Hyeok had the chops for at least the quarterfinals. Yeon Muk would cruise to the round of 16, no sweat. Anything beyond that was the real test.
Mo Se-young's match was at the Murim Alliance Hanan branch. Unlike my fight, the place was packed an hour before start time.
I thought I'd arrived early, but seats were gone. Standing room only.
Not thrilled about this.
I pulled some silver from my inventory and headed to a prime spot overlooking the arena. Two vigorous young guys were planted there.
"Sell me your seats."
No bullshit—just flashed the silver. They shot up like they'd been scorched. Money was the second strongest force after martial prowess.
After the tedious wait, the match began.
"You've all been waiting! First bout of the day: Fairy Sect's Mo Se-young versus Gold Mountain Baek's Baek Muk-hwi!"
The announcer fired up the crowd with his hype.
The upright faction elders might call it vulgar, but the Murim Alliance wanted spectacle. Higher value for the Yongho Contest meant more cash for them.
The crowd's fever pitch dwarfed anything from my match.
"““Wooooaaahhh!”””
"White Fist Palm! Show us a miracle! My whole fortune's on you!"
"That's one of the martial world's four beauties, Mo Se-young. No regrets trekking half a month to Hanan!"
"Gorgeous and a martial powerhouse? The world's so damn unfair."
Baek Muk-hwi had the same bear-like build as the first-round scrub I'd crushed, but this guy was worlds apart. His stance screamed stability.
"An honor to meet you. Please go easy. Mo Se-young of the Black Sand Thorn Flower."
"Flexible without groveling, powerful yet balanced. You're no slouch for a first-round opponent."
"High praise—makes me blush."
"To enter the Yongho Contest, you gotta be this good."
Mo Se-young swept her gaze over the stands as she spoke.
Looking for me?
No dice—our eyes didn't meet.
"I'll take first strike!"
The match erupted with Baek Muk-hwi's lunge. A fast, concise, power-packed fist shot straight ahead.
Stance like my KHC True Fist, but the depth? Several notches below.
Bam!
The sound of tough hide ripping under a club. Dull, but menacing.
Mo Se-young, sword in hand, didn't clash head-on. She stepped back with footwork, evading like a pro.
"Ooh! Miss Mo moves like petals in the wind!"
"Straight out of the ancestor's tales!"
"Holy shit! I didn't even see the attack, and she dodged it!"
Mo Se-young's style was the Brave Woman Sword Art. The original described it as vast like ocean waves, fierce like volcanoes, heavy like Mount Tai, light like clouds.
Freely shifting styles—that's the hallmark of the Brave Woman Sword Art.
Optimizing for the foe. That was its essence.
Baek Muk-hwi's heavy and direct, but not slow. What style will she pick?
Curious now.
After a brief probe, Mo Se-young locked in her approach.
"Explosive power seems to be your art's trait. Fine—I'll match it."
"Oh ho. A head-on power clash? Bold, but I'm no pushover."
"See for yourself if it's bravado."
Mo Se-young gripped her sword overhead, lowering her center and pointing the tip earthward. Gathering strength.
"Brave Woman Sword Art—heavy form: Iron Woman Slash."
Her body moved deliberately slow. But no openings.
Mighty internal energy swirled around her. Rush in thinking it sluggish, and that vortex would shred your fist to ribbons.
So that's the Brave Woman Sword Art.
First time seeing it live. As profound as the Fairy Sect's reputation. One move revealed its pinnacle essence.
Baek Muk-hwi backpedaled, dodging the blade.
But her sword didn't just cleave air. Thick sword qi lanced toward the arena's edge.
The Murim Alliance stands ringed the field like a baseball stadium. The qi hit the wall instead of the crowd.
Shraaap!
The storm-like momentum was no joke. Baek Muk-hwi clicked his tongue.
"Beautiful flowers have thorns, they say—and it's true."
"Thought you trusted your power?"
"Seeing you shakes my confidence. But this time, I won't dodge."
Baek Muk-hwi steeled himself, resetting his stance. Legs shoulder-width, body slightly hunched. Center low, right fist cocked back. Like a bull priming to charge.
"I won't shame the White Fist Palm title."
"Prove it."
Mo Se-young raised her sword again. That heavy strike must've drained her, but no fatigue showed.
But she can't spam that. At her level, three or four times max?
Subdue him in that window. Seemed doable. Baek Muk-hwi wasn't backing off either.
Azure qi cloaked Baek Muk-hwi's right hand. He was focusing spirit, channeling energy to his extremities. Perfect opening—but Mo Se-young was charging too.
If she weren't locked into the heavy style, it'd end here.
She hadn't mastered the Brave Woman Sword Art yet. Otherwise, she'd switch styles and finish him. Plenty of room to grow.
"Here I come!"
Baek Muk-hwi stepped forward with his left. His clenched fist opened. Not a fist technique—a palm strike.
His moniker was White Fist Palm. Mastery of both explained it.
The blue qi bleached snow-white, like fresh powder on peaks. It erupted in a Buddha-palm shape. Thunderclap exploded around them.
"Collapsing Thunder Divine Palm!"