Luck is a Skill
"I must have some kind of destiny with the number seven."
Bukjin turned the numbered slip over in his hand, examining it from different angles. This time, he didn't have to wait long; his turn arrived almost immediately. Stepping onto the dueling platform, he sized up his opponent.
"Heh, they say you never know what's waiting around the corner... how unexpected. But I suppose this counts as entertainment in its own way," Bukjin said with a smirk.
The student standing across from him looked like he was attending his own funeral. He was the very same boy who had been shouting about how unfair everything was and badmouthing Bukjin right after the match with Naeng Yeop ended.
"T-this is just a s-student sparring match! Don't take it too far!" the student stammered, his knees knocking together.
Bukjin almost burst out laughing. To him, the boy looked like nothing more than a terrified mutt.
"If my memory serves me right, you're from Class 1, aren't you?" Bukjin asked.
"Y-yeah! And my best friend is Oh Sobang! You'd better—"
Before the student could finish his sentence, a flash of cold steel cut through the air.
Whish—! Shlick!
The sound of a longsword piercing flesh and being withdrawn echoed simultaneously.
Thud!
Bukjin followed up with a brutal kick to the student's midsection. The boy tumbled off the platform, the entire sequence happening in the blink of an eye. A moment later, a blood-curdling scream erupted from below.
Just like Naeng Yeop, the student’s right shoulder had been skewered. It was a deep wound, but it fell within the permissible limits of the practical sparring regulations. A puncture wound of that nature could be healed in a short time with high-quality herbs or pills. As long as it wasn't a life-threatening fatal blow or a permanent, disabling injury, it was considered fair game.
The purpose of the practical sparring exam was to teach students the raw combat instincts and the intense pressure that comes with standing on the edge of life and death. Therefore, overly strict restrictions would have rendered the exercise meaningless.
This time, not a single student dared to mock Bukjin. Instead, a chill ran down their collective spines. It was as if Bukjin was sending a clear message: he would settle every score with anyone who crossed him.
When the proctor announced Bukjin's victory, he sheathed his sword and stepped down from the platform with a leisurely stride.
"Kyaaa! He's so cool!"
A group of about a dozen female students were covering their faces and squealing. Indeed, the ranks of the Bukjin Fan Club had grown significantly since the last round.
Time marched on, and the sparring matches continued.
Crash—!
Seol-ak, a student from Class 9, rolled off the platform, coughing up blood before losing consciousness.
"I told you," Oh Sobang said with a chilling smile as he stood atop the platform. "I'm not letting anyone from Class 9 off easy."
He looked down at the crowd and sneered. "If you want someone to blame, blame yourselves for being in the same class as that piece of trash, Im Bukjin!"
The Class 9 students below were fuming, but they remained silent. Oh Sobang’s methods were excessively cruel. He wasn't just defeating them; he was systematically humiliating them through both words and actions. First it was Jeong-go, and now it was Seol-ak. Even when his opponents were clearly incapacitated, he went out of his way to inflict extra injuries.
Oh Sobang’s tactic of provoking Bukjin by brutalizing his classmates was bottom-tier behavior. However, the students weren't fools. Only a small minority actually blamed Bukjin for the situation. Most of Class 9 had watched Bukjin’s previous two matches. To them, Bukjin's actions were a direct expression of his rage over what had happened to Jeong-go and Seol-ak. In their eyes, Bukjin was simply practicing 'an eye for an eye' by punishing Naeng Yeop and that other student.
The students felt a thrill watching Bukjin fight, while simultaneously feeling a twinge of pity for that nameless student he just defeated. To have so little presence that your name isn't even introduced...
"Im Bukjin! You have to avenge Seol-ak and Jeong-go!"
"Class 9 has to stick together!"
"Im Bukjin! If you put Oh Sobang in his place, I'll apologize for everything I said about you before!"
The students of Class 9 were finally of one mind. They desperately wanted Bukjin to pay back the humiliation their class had suffered with interest.
Eventually, the second round of the practical exam drew to a close. The most unexpected highlight of the round was that Mok Simwol, the academy's princess, had once again faced a devoted admirer. Just like Jeong-tak before him, the boy had delivered a cringeworthy, romantic speech on stage before voluntarily forfeiting. Mok Simwol passed the second round without a single speck of dust landing on her clothes.
Such a series of effortless victories was unprecedented. Even the proctor stood there with a dazed, bewildered expression. It was a testament to just how overwhelming Mok Simwol’s popularity was at the 3rd Academy.
Meanwhile, other geniuses like Musae, Sa Sin-rim, Ak Hong-hyang, and Go-min smoothly defeated their opponents to advance to the Top 25. The competition was growing fiercer by the minute.
The matchups for the third round were decided by lottery and proceeded quickly. Since there were 25 students, one person would receive a bye and advance automatically. Every student watched with bated breath to see who would be the lucky recipient of the free pass.
The student who drew the bye was none other than the princess herself, Mok Simwol.
"She's not just beautiful; she's skilled, talented, and even lucky! I can't even bring myself to be jealous at this point."
"She's truly a child favored by the heavens!" the students marveled.
Mok Simwol merely offered a faint smile. She remained composed and graceful, showing no signs of arrogance or haste.
Bukjin drew number 17. He really was starting to think he had a deep connection with the number seven. His opponent this time was Go-min, one of the well-known geniuses of the academy. It was the first time since the start of the exam that Bukjin was facing a truly worthy adversary.
"Bukjin, I've been looking forward to our match."
Go-min was a fair-skinned boy with slightly curly hair. He carried the distinct confidence typical of elite students, and his eyes burned with a strong will. Resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, he spoke.
"I'm going to show you exactly what kind of people the geniuses of our grade really are."
"Sure," Bukjin replied nonchalantly.
Then, in a blur of motion, Bukjin drew his sword.
Schwing—! Whish!
A flash of sword light erupted.
Clang!
The two blades collided, creating a resonant metallic ring. Suddenly, the longsword in Go-min’s hand was deflected upward, slipping from his grasp. Go-min’s sword traced a high arc through the air before plunging into the ground far away. Bukjin’s blade was already leveled at Go-min’s throat.
"W-what kind of sword style is this?" Go-min asked, his voice trembling with disbelief. He couldn't even comprehend how he had lost.
Bukjin withdrew his sword and spoke calmly.
"Basic Swordsmanship: Close-body Triple Link."
"What? T-that's impossible..." Go-min said, his face turning pale.
"I also trained in the Close-body Triple Link taught by Master Jeong Sam-seok. Are you suggesting the technique you learned was somehow different from mine?"
Bukjin paused for a moment as if thinking, then added, "Maybe you're just too stupid to have trained as hard as I did."
The confidence that had filled Go-min’s face just moments ago had vanished without a trace.
"I... I lost."
Go-min retrieved his sword from where it was stuck in the ground and slowly walked down from the platform.
Winner: Im Bukjin
The students below the platform stood with their mouths agape, stunned by how quickly the match had ended. After a brief silence, the arena erupted into a massive uproar.
"Im One-Sword! That's a great name!"
"But was that really Master Jeong Sam-seok's Close-body Triple Link?"
"I don't know. The Close-body Triple Link I know definitely doesn't look like that!"
"To defeat Go-min in a single strike..."
"But look, he didn't pierce Go-min’s shoulder this time!"
"See? Im Bukjin might be a delinquent, but he's not a mindless thug! He only takes revenge on the Class 1 students."
"It's basically a war started by Oh Sobang’s provocations! Honestly, Oh Sobang went too far, bringing a personal grudge onto the dueling platform like that!"
The students all had their own opinions, but the rivalry between Bukjin and Oh Sobang had become the hottest topic of the competition. In a world that had always revered the strong, public opinion was rapidly shifting in Bukjin's favor.
"Kyaaa! He's so handsome!"
"How can he be that cool?"
About thirty female students were now staring at Bukjin as if possessed, their screams filling the air. The Bukjin Fan Club was growing exponentially. As Bukjin stepped down from the platform, he glanced at the girls cheering for him and furrowed his brows slightly.
Not enough! You need to scream louder!
"Hahaha! A true genius of the sword! He's practically the incarnation of the blade! I will definitely make him my top disciple!"
Watching from a distance, the swordsmanship teacher Jeong Sam-seok was grinning from ear to ear.
Up in the VIP seating area...
"Haha! Brother Cheong-hyeon, I believe Im Bukjin’s skills have been thoroughly proven by this match, wouldn't you say?" Dean Cho Heun said with a hearty laugh.
Lee Cheong-hyeon maintained his calm expression and replied, "Hmm! Let us observe a bit longer."
In truth, however, it was becoming difficult for him to hide the shock written all over his face. H-how is this happening? What is going on at the 3rd Academy? This Im Bukjin fellow is truly beyond comprehension!
The third round concluded quickly. The Class 9 students had to carry out another classmate, Yun-yeok, on a stretcher. Yun-yeok’s opponent for the third round hadn't originally been Oh Sobang. However, Oh Sobang had once again exercised his privilege as last year’s champion to challenge Yun-yeok as his opponent.
And just like in his previous matches, he showed no mercy, skewering Yun-yeok’s ear and left arm with his sword, leaving him severely injured.
"I told you, didn't I? I won't leave a single one of you Class 9 bastards in peace," Oh Sobang said with a cold laugh from the platform.
Bukjin still offered no response to Oh Sobang’s provocations. With that, thirteen students advanced to the fourth round.
The lottery for the fourth round began. Incredibly, Mok Simwol drew the bye once again.
"She's the Goddess of Fortune!"
"I can't believe it!"
"If there is a God of War, he must surely favor her!"
Even the proctors were now marveling at her luck. As the saying went, luck was also a skill.