Then Let's Trade a Few Hits

"Wow, how did you do this?"

A first-generation disciple of the Mount Hua Sect.

The one who bore the title of Plum Blossom Swordswoman, the Lightning Sword Princess, Jin Sowol, prodded at the pebbles drifting around me, poking them one by one as if they were some marvel of the world.

Her clear, limpid eyes bored into my face with that irrepressibly sunny expression of hers.

She stood just tall enough to reach my chest, and I reached out and gently pushed her back.

"Eeek…"

"You're too close."

She glared at me for a moment as though I'd personally offended her, then puffed out her cheeks and grumbled.

"…Honestly, I don't believe you're at Peak realm. How does a Peak master do that? Are you tying things up with invisible threads and spinning them around?"

"Just a little trick of mine."

"There's definitely some kind of trick. I'll figure it out if it kills me..!"

"I still have to greet the others, so would you kindly step aside?"

With that, I pressed my palm down on the crown of Jin Sowol's head.

Guuuuk—

A body tempered to its absolute limit, reinforced even with the external arts of the Hwangbo Clan.

Needless to say, Jin Sowol should have had no way to resist.

And yet… Jin Sowol, both hands clamped around my arm, did not budge an inch.

"Gggghhhh…!"

"…Are we having a strength contest now?"

"I! Will! Not! Lose..!"

"Sigh…"

A quick glance around showed the young Shaolin monk turning his head away, seemingly embarrassed, while the beggar snickered as he watched our scuffle. The girl from the Namgung Clan simply stared at us with blank, stunned eyes.

Her expression said she couldn't trust what she was seeing.

And so our standoff dragged on.

The one trying to push, and the one refusing to be pushed — a childish, thoroughly childish struggle that even ten-year-olds would have been ashamed of.

In the end, Jin Sowol ran out of steam midway and collapsed right where she stood, knocked flat by my strength.

The winner of this ridiculous contest was me.

And yet, I couldn't bring myself to feel happy about it.

I hadn't even used my internal energy, and I'd actually struggled against a girl half my size.

I felt the sweat soaking through the back of my shirt.

Ahead of us, the woman of the Namgung Clan muttered, as if she couldn't believe it either.

"How… a contest of strength… against Sowol…"

"That's my line."

Sixty years of relentless training.

The body forged through all of that had become incomparably hard, further tempered through external conditioning.

Jin Sowol, flat on her back, rose while rubbing the back of her head with her palm.

"Ugh, dammit…"

"You've got a hard head. Quit faking the pain and get up."

"Why are you talking down to me all of a sudden?! How old are you?!"

"Eighty-two."

"…What?"

After applying that shock therapy to put a stop to her antics, I approached the saffron-robed monk of Shaolin and offered a greeting.

"A pleasure to meet you, Master monk."

"Ah… y-yes… a pleasure, benefactor. I am Beop Yun, first-generation disciple of Shaolin."

"I am Baek Sihyeok, first-generation disciple of the Wudang Sect."

Strictly speaking, of course, I wasn't actually a first-generation disciple.

But my master had said — since she'd been demoted herself anyway, why not just call me a first-generation disciple too. It would look better that way, she'd insisted.

At my words, the young monk, who looked to be in his late teens, bowed his head in a half-palms salute.

"I look forward to traveling with you."

"Yes. I don't know how long we'll be together, but likewise."

My gaze slid sideways, and the familiar old man came into view.

"I don't need to introduce myself, right?"

"Nope, old man."

I had no particular interest in the beggar anyway.

He was a man I'd already looted of every martial art he possessed — a fully squeezed dry orange, that one.

Then I turned to the woman standing beside him, the one who was frowning as she stared holes through me, and met her eyes.

Hair of a basic dark shade tinged faintly with blue, and eyes of a similar hue.

A woman with a sharp gaze and flawless, snow-white skin free of a single blemish.

Looking at her, I voiced my honest impression.

"You'd be pretty if you smiled a bit."

"…!"

Somehow, though, the moment those words left my mouth, her expression curdled like milk left out in the sun.

For a while, we simply stared at each other in silence.

"…I have no interest in speaking with you any further. I see no reason why I should have to."

"…?"

"Goodbye."

A voice that carried the chill of a drawn blade plunged straight into my ear.

And in the very next instant—

"Huh..?"

The Namgung woman hoisted Jin Sowol up by the waist and bolted off somewhere.

The two of them vanished into the distance, leaving only a fading blue afterimage behind.

I stared blankly at the spot where they'd disappeared, momentarily at a loss for words.

"…What the hell is wrong with that crazy bitch?"

"Seolhyeon, are we going to be all right like this?"

"Honestly? Looks pretty dead to me..?"

Chwigeolgae and Cheon Seolhyeon exchanged whispers, eyeing each other.

The saddest part was that what they said didn't seem the least bit wrong.

"…I'll drag those damn bitches back."

"Benefactor, such words are not becoming…"

"Shut it, baldy."

"…"

Cold sweat trickled down Beop Yun's scalp.

Come to think of it, weren't all of these kids my age anyway?

I was leagues beyond them in seniority — surely that entitled me to drop the honorifics.

With that thought, I turned my head slightly toward Cheon Seolhyeon.

"I'll be right back, Seolhyeon."

The next moment—

Heavenly Escape Sword Technique, fused with the Heaven's Ladder Taiji Step.

Slipping stealthily into the flow of the heavens, I crossed the air as a soundless bolt of lightning.

Catching up to the fleeing pair took hardly any time at all.

The landscape of mountains and rivers flashed past in a blur.

"Yerin, what are you doing…"

Jin Sowol looked up at Namgung Yerin, who was sprinting along with a firm grip on her waist.

On the rare occasions she'd crossed paths with boys her own age, she had witnessed a few inexplicable reactions.

For instance — smashing someone's head in with a sword, scabbard and all.

Or beating them so thoroughly they couldn't speak a word anymore.

Or breaking their legs so they couldn't walk for days on end. Things like that.

Thinking back on it now, Jin Sowol found it absurd.

"…Did you make some massive mortal enemy out of men or something?"

"I can't stand even talking to garbage like them."

"Not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every man in the world is a terrible person, you know."

"…Didn't you hear what that guy said earlier?"

"Saying you're pretty is a compliment, isn't it?"

"…"

Namgung Yerin simply kept running without a word.

She was a genius among geniuses who had reached the late Peak realm at twenty.

Thanks to a lifetime of swallowing elixirs like they were meals, her internal energy far surpassed that of ordinary Peak masters.

If things went on like this, she would be completely separated from the others.

And so Jin Sowol forcibly pried the arm loose from around her waist and landed on the ground.

At that, Namgung Yerin stopped as well and turned to face her.

"This is sect business, Yerin. Like it or not, you have to endure it."

"Sect… business…"

"…"

At those words, Namgung Yerin seized a fistful of her own long, flowing hair.

"Why… why does it have to be men… those rice-bin rats with no skill and nothing but overflowing lust…"

"Yerin!!"

Jin Sowol thrust her hand out toward her in alarm.

And in the very next instant—

Kuuung—

A bolt of heavenly thunder crashed down before Namgung Yerin and Jin Sowol.

At the heart of that falling lightning stood Baek Sihyeok.

Their eyes turned toward him, materialized out of nowhere.

"…"

"How…? He left late — this shouldn't be a distance he could close…"

"First things first."

Srrring—

Baek Sihyeok's sword slid from its scabbard with a clear, ringing tone.

The snow-white blade gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.

Baek Sihyeok regarded them with coldly settled eyes, and thought.

Apparently, these damn brats need a little order restored to them.

That's the only way they'll stop pulling stunts like this.

Ten years living in the back alleys had taught him a variety of hard-won wisdom.

And one piece of it was this: bastards who ran off doing their own thing always brought catastrophe down on everyone.

So such things had to be prevented in advance.

The method for reining people in was simple.

"Let's think it over after taking a few hits."

Get beaten black and blue until you come to your senses, and even a runaway brain finds its way home.

Baek Sihyeok gritted his teeth and curled his lips upward.

At that, Namgung Yerin let out a scoffing, incredulous laugh.

"A nameless nobody who only just entered the Wudang Sect… and a man, at that?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's me. Come at me. I'll yield the first move."

"…I'll make you regret it, you trash."

"Yerin..!"

A sword aura like the vast azure sky itself rose along Namgung Yerin's blade.

Jin Sowol tried to stop her, but she paid her no heed whatsoever and began to set her stance.

"Don't blame me even in death."

The signature martial art of the Namgung Clan.

Vast Sky Boundless Sword Technique.

First Form.

Leaping Kite of the Azure Vault.

The point of Namgung Yerin's descending blade did not waver in the slightest.

The refinement of the sword form, and the killing intent steeped within it, were likewise nothing to dismiss.

Baek Sihyeok snorted and murmured.

"…So your realm isn't just from guzzling elixirs, huh?"

Countless martial arts he had absorbed over the years flashed through his mind.

The Heavenly Thunder Sword Art, the Heavenly Flower Seal Art, the Heavenly Net Severing Realm, the Soul-Capturing Art, the Heaven's Ladder Taiji Step.

The Blood-Yin Horse Technique, the Taiji Wisdom Sword, and every other art of the Wudang Sect.

And then—

Three Powers Sword Technique.

First Form.

Mount Tai Presses Down from the Summit.

A monstrous, earth-shaking strength settled into his sword arm.

His lower body, balancing the stance, rooted itself into the ground like an immovable foundation.

The downward strike carved into his body and soul through more than a billion repetitions drew an exquisitely beautiful arc as it fell — straight down, from above.

Kwajijik—!

"…!"

Namgung Yerin's sword snapped clean in two.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

My blade came to a stop, hovering just above the crown of Namgung Yerin's head.

"Ah…"

"Hey."

With the brightest of smiles, Baek Sihyeok pressed his finger against the forehead of the frozen-stiff Namgung Yerin.

"Done yet?"

"…No… no way, this can't be…"

"Then let's trade a few hits."

If he let things slide at this point, she'd only lose her head and pull the same stunt again.

Baek Sihyeok raised his sword, scabbard and all, and swung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it toward Namgung Yerin's side.

But in that moment, a single slender sword thrust itself between his blade and Namgung Yerin.

Chaeng—!

Baek Sihyeok looked at the plum blossom ornament adorning the hilt and spoke.

"…How about you show me your swordwork too?"

"Stop it… you've made your point. She understands by now."

"Does she look like someone who understood anything to you?"

"…Even so, I'll just— haaah…"

Jin Sowol broke off mid-sentence and heaved a sigh.

The light in Baek Sihyeok's eyes and the set of his expression were simply not in a state she could talk down.

And so the method Jin Sowol chose was to strike first and win first.

Her blade trembled, and sword aura like scattering shards of crimson flower petals began to fan out in every direction.

Mount Hua Sect.

Twenty-Four Stances Plum Blossom Sword Technique.

Fifth Stance.

Plum Blossoms Falling Upon the World.

And then, came the very next moment.

Kugugugu—

"Huh..?"

A Taiji symbol rose behind Baek Sihyeok's back.

The black-and-white sword aura overflowing from his blade began to whirl, tracing the shape of the Taiji.

The petals were, quite literally, shredded to nothing.

The two women stared, faces frozen in disbelief, at the Taiji drawn by Baek Sihyeok's sword.