The Secret Art!
Jo Pacheon slowly withdrew his fist. "Heh, you weren't even worth a single punch."
He sneered at Han Bul-bu, who stood staggering in his blood-soaked swordsman's uniform. "And you're supposed to be the top third-year student of the 3rd Academy? How pathetic."
Han Bul-bu struggled to steady his posture. Exhaling a long, ragged breath, he felt the internal flow of his blood and Hyeongi twisting into complete chaos. He tried to squeeze out every remaining drop of strength, but even lifting his arm felt like an impossible task. Agony surged through his entire body in waves.
"The current top student of the 3rd Academy... is Junior Brother Bukjin," Han Bul-bu managed to say, his voice raspy and strained.
"Tsk, tsk. What a spineless answer. To think you'd so proudly admit to being surpassed by a second-year junior," Jo Pacheon said with a mocking laugh. "You're not even a worthy opponent. Admit your defeat and get out of the arena. I thought Im Bukjin might want to see my true strength through you, but it seems you're not even qualified for that."
At that, Han Bul-bu shook his head.
"I haven't lost yet."
Jo Pacheon’s expression turned to one of pure contempt. "You'd be wise to surrender quietly. If I have to strike again, you won't even have the chance to forfeit."
Han Bul-bu didn't say another word. Despite his mangled internal energy, he forcibly channeled his Mystic Energy and once again took up the stance of the Mountain-Moving Sword Technique. A grim, resolute determination to fight to the bitter end radiated from him.
"I gave you a chance," Jo Pacheon said. "Whatever happens next is your own choice."
With a twisted smirk, Jo Pacheon lunged forward once more. At that same moment, Bukjin, watching the match from the dressing room, felt his heart sink.
Han Bul-bu had fallen for Jo Pacheon's provocation. By repeatedly mentioning how Bukjin wanted to see his true strength, Jo Pacheon had goaded Han Bul-bu into refusing to surrender. He was weaponizing Han's loyalty to Bukjin to push him deeper into a hopeless abyss. Now, all that awaited Han Bul-bu was immense suffering—and perhaps even permanent, irreversible injuries.
The match between Jo Pacheon and Han Bul-bu was the most brutal battle since the start of the Academic & Martial Arts Competition.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Han Bul-bu’s Mountain-Moving Sword Technique crumbled repeatedly under Jo Pacheon's assault. To be precise, Han Bul-bu couldn't maintain any semblance of a defense against Jo Pacheon's overwhelming fist techniques. He was sent flying again and again, coughing up blood only to stagger back to his feet.
THUD!
Han Bul-bu collapsed onto the floor once more. His blood began to pool across the arena tiles. Screams erupted from the spectator stands. Many people covered their eyes, unable to watch the carnage any longer.
Initially, many had mocked Han Bul-bu for his perceived weakness. But that mockery had gradually shifted to pity, and now, it was transforming into profound awe. In a battle where defeat was certain and he was already gravely injured, Han Bul-bu could end all his pain and preserve his honor as a swordsman with a single word of surrender. Yet, he chose to endure.
Han Bul-bu didn't have extraordinary looks or exceptional talent. His martial level was that of a common, average boy. But even as he lay broken on the ground, he displayed a fighting spirit that refused to be extinguished. His willpower burned more fiercely and intensely than anyone else's. Watching him, many in the crowd felt a cold sweat of shame, reflecting on their own lack of resolve.
"Mountain-Moving..."
Han Bul-bu slowly dragged himself up. He couldn't even tell how many of his bones were broken. Several shards of bone had even pierced through his skin, their white tips exposed in a sight that made the spectators' blood run cold. Leaning on his cracked sword, he showed a will as stubborn as the name of his style—as if he truly intended to move a mountain.
His movements were precarious and agonizingly slow, but he still raised his blade.
Starting Stance
A fierce, burning flame blazed in his eyes.
"Continue," Han Bul-bu said.
A flicker of pity crossed Jo Pacheon's cold face. He knew that at this very moment, Bukjin was likely watching this match from the dressing room with gritted teeth. Jo Pacheon imagined Bukjin consumed by rage and shock, unable to think clearly. He couldn't remember the last time he had exerted so much effort and engaged in such a "mud-fight" just to break one person's spirit.
Ever since entering Baekun City and gaining the favor of Baek Hae-geum, Jo Pacheon had not known failure. His life had been a smooth road of constant success. But Im Bukjin had become a living nightmare. From the night of the Duel of Swords, Bukjin had constantly tested the limits of his patience.
He regretted it. He regretted failing to kill Bukjin during the plot at Bukhwang Mountain. That plan had not only failed to kill him but had seemingly made him even stronger. The constant pressure of being caught up to felt like a dagger pressing against his heart, and Jo Pacheon could no longer tolerate it. Therefore, before the team battles began, he intended to inflict the greatest despair Bukjin had ever felt. He calculated that if Bukjin lost his composure and was consumed by irrational rage, it would be much easier to crush him in the team match. Tormenting Han Bul-bu was merely a small step toward that goal.
Jo Pacheon could feel the hearts of the 6,000 spectators leaning toward Han Bul-bu, but he didn't care in the slightest. To him, Unmong City was nothing more than a pathetic, backwater village. A provincial town that was beneath his notice.
"You still won't admit defeat?" Jo Pacheon walked forward slowly until he was just a few feet from Han Bul-bu. He looked down at the pool of blood spreading across the floor. His reflection shimmered faintly in the crimson liquid. With a calm smile, he said, "The fact that you've made it this far is already your limit. Even if you concede now, Im Bukjin won't blame you."
Jo Pacheon intentionally mentioned Bukjin again. Han Bul-bu didn't even have the strength left to answer. His legs were shaking, and his arms hung limp—not out of fear, but from the sheer volume of blood he had lost. It was a mystery what power was still keeping him upright. Yet, he remained standing. He gripped his sword and prepared to continue the fight.
A sneer curled Jo Pacheon's lips. "A cornered rat trying to bite a cat is nothing more than a useless struggle. It's a shameful act that only hastens your death. Even if you have no strength left to stand, I will not show mercy."
He slowly raised his fist. Golden Mystic Energy gathered around it, forming a faint, radiant aura. The golden fist moved slowly, but the power contained within it was immense. A cruel smile was etched on Jo Pacheon's face. He expected to see even a hint of terror on Han Bul-bu's face. But the fighting spirit burning in Han Bul-bu's eyes was stronger than words could describe.
"I am not testing your strength for Junior Brother Im!" Han Bul-bu roared in fury. His voice was as raw and hot as lava erupting from the depths of a volcano. "You will never know! You will never understand! You could never be a match for Junior Brother Im! He has never once considered you his rival! You're just pathetically struggling all by yourself...!"
His voice was more intense than ever before—a powerful roar unlike anything anyone had heard from him. Han Bul-bu's rage-filled voice erupted again.
"I fight for myself! For the honor of a swordsman named Han Bul-bu! Remember my name well! My name is Han Bul-bu! I am a talent of the Empire, and I... will move forward forever!"
At that moment, an intense flare of earth-attribute Mystic Energy, unlike anything seen before, erupted from Han Bul-bu's entire body. He was enveloped in the brilliant, glowing radiance of his element.
"You may move a mountain, but you shall never move me! My name is... Han Bul-bu!"
With his cry, the Mountain-Moving Sword Technique reached its absolute peak, and a massive shield of earth-attribute energy, nearly ten feet high, manifested before him. The shield looked like the impenetrable armor of the Black Tortoise. Its intricate segments and vivid patterns gave it an air of absolute solidity. Its strength was that of solid bedrock, and its weight was that of a small mountain.
Ryu Gye-hae leaped to his feet, his voice filled with shock. "The Secret Art of the Mountain-Moving Sword Technique... I can't believe Bul-bu actually realized the secret of that 2-star technique!"
Based on Han Bul-bu's previous level of mastery, he shouldn't have been able to unlock the Secret Art. In that moment, Cho Heun, Baek Geum-un, and Ak Hong-hyang all felt goosebumps break out over their bodies. As Han Bul-bu's rage-filled roar echoed through the arena, the spectators found themselves standing up, holding their breath as they watched the scene unfold.
BOOM!
Jo Pacheon's fist, which had been moving slowly toward Han Bul-bu, struck the solid shield.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Terrifying power flooded over the shield like a deluge. The currents of Mystic Energy around the two warriors surged, creating a violent vortex. The golden and brown energies clashed and spiraled at incredible speeds. And then, a moment later...
A figure came staggering out of the vortex.
It wasn't Han Bul-bu. It was Jo Pacheon. Shock was written all over the face of the noble, golden-haired boy. He could hardly believe that at the moment his fist collided with Han Bul-bu's ultimate move, he was the one pushed back.
'He's just a cornered rat... where did this power come from?'
Jo Pacheon couldn't comprehend it. Seeing this, the spectators in every direction let out a thunderous cheer.