A Limit to Shamelessness
"Today, I shall personally oversee the supervision of this match."
From the distant spectator stands, Grade Dean Cho Heun soared into the air like a hawk, landing gracefully on the dueling platform in an instant. The two students set to clash today, Im Bukjin and Mok Simwol, were the most prized treasures of the 3rd Academy’s second-year class. If either were to sustain a severe injury during the bout, it would jeopardize the academy's performance in the upcoming Academic & Martial Arts Competition. Thus, Cho Heun had decided to step in himself.
"Begin," Cho Heun commanded.
Mok Simwol slowly drew her longsword. "Bukjin, let’s have a good match."
Bukjin offered a faint, nonchalant smile before curling his finger in a provocative 'come hither' gesture. A stir rippled through the gathered students at his blatant disrespect.
"He really is a shameless scoundrel!"
Even Gwan Bi-do furrowed his brow in distaste. Standing beside him, a student named Ye-ok-cheon whispered, "Don't worry, Senior Gwan. Your 'Sister-in-law' will soon put that arrogant brat in his place. She’s been practicing the counters from the manual you gave her. There’s no way she can lose!"
The students close to Gwan Bi-do had taken to calling Mok Simwol 'Sister-in-law' just to stroke his ego. Just last night, Gwan Bi-do had stayed up late specifically to tutor Mok Simwol on how to dismantle the Close-body Triple Link, the core of the academy's basic swordsmanship.
Gwan Bi-do nodded curtly. "Indeed. Let us watch."
The third-year students watched with an air of superiority, viewing themselves as cranes standing among a flock of common chickens.
"Bukjin, watch yourself!" Mok Simwol cried out, initiating her attack with basic forms. Basic swordsmanship relied less on the circulation of Hyeongi and more on the fluid transition of stances.
A cold light flickered in Bukjin’s eyes.
Whish!
A flash of steel sliced through the air. Bukjin unleashed the Close-body Triple Link. His speed was staggering. However, a chilling smirk crossed Mok Simwol’s face. Her movements shifted subtly—a change that appeared leisurely but was, in fact, incredibly swift. A frosty glow emanated from her blade as it curved at a bizarre angle, intercepting Bukjin’s trajectory.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three sharp metallic rings echoed across the grounds. The two figures, having collided at high speed, recoiled back to their starting positions. Cheers erupted from the crowd below the platform.
"She blocked it!"
"Bukjin’s 'invincible' three-strike formula was completely shut down by Junior Mok!"
"Finally, someone has appeared who can stop him!"
"As expected of the finals! What a match!"
"Does Bukjin even know any other techniques?"
The excitement was palpable. Watching two geniuses trade blows was exactly what the students had been waiting for. Mok Simwol smiled triumphantly.
"Bukjin, is that basic swordsmanship really the only thing you know?"
"Unfortunately for you," Bukjin replied, "you're mistaken."
Mok Simwol’s smile widened. "Then why don't you show me exactly where I'm wrong?"
"Gladly," Bukjin nodded.
He raised his sword once more. His body shot forward like a bolt of lightning. His speed was peerless, his momentum savage. Yet, the technique he unleashed was still the Close-body Triple Link. Mok Simwol continued to swing her sword with practiced ease. Her strikes seemed simple, but each movement was calculated to seal off the path of Bukjin’s blade.
Clang!
Another collision sent sparks flying. Bukjin’s sword was halted once again.
"Give it up, Bukjin," Mok Simwol said calmly. "It’s useless. You can repeat this a thousand times, and the result will be the same. Your three strikes cannot escape the boundaries of basic swordsmanship. Everyone knows the counter now."
"Is that so?" Bukjin sneered.
Swish!
In the instant the three strikes were completed, three distinct sword shadows erupted from Bukjin’s blade. They descended upon Mok Simwol with the ferocity of a lightning strike.
Hidden Ultimate: One Sword, Three Shadows
Watching from the sidelines, Jeong Sam-seok nearly had his eyes pop out of his head.
"One Sword, Three Shadows?!"
This was a phenomenon that could only be achieved once the Big Dipper Descent reached the third stage of mastery: Entering the Chamber.
'Did this crazy brat really master it to that level in a single night?' Jeong Sam-seok wondered. He hadn't quite believed Bukjin’s claim about training in his dreams, but seeing this, it felt like the only possible explanation. And the effectiveness was beyond anything he had imagined.
Clang!
The swords collided with a resonant hum. Mok Simwol felt a numbing shock travel up her arm, and her sword slipped from her grasp.
Thud-thud!
The sound of steel piercing flesh echoed twice. Crimson droplets bloomed like flower petals on both of Mok Simwol’s shoulders. Bukjin’s sword was already leveled at her throat. She hadn't even been able to react. The tip of his blade stopped a mere inch away from the skin of the girl known as the 'Academy Princess.'
The audience gasped in unison, followed by a wave of shocked screams. Every student watching was frozen in disbelief.
'Is... is it over already?'
Mok Simwol stood there, her expression a mask of pure bewilderment. She couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
"A counter-strategy?" Bukjin sneered. "Why don't you keep countering then?"
Mok Simwol slowly regained her senses, her face turning deathly pale. "The technique you just used... it was definitely the Close-body Triple Link. But that last strike... what was that?"
"It’s the fourth strike," Bukjin replied. "You could call it the Close-body Quadruple Link."
"A fourth strike in the basic swordsmanship?" Mok Simwol turned her head to look at Gwan Bi-do. He looked just as shell-shocked as she was, his mind struggling to process the scene.
'A fourth strike in basic swordsmanship? Such a thing exists? How is this possible?'
Oh So-bang was equally horrified. He had been certain that Mok Simwol, perfectly prepared for Bukjin’s moves, would win. He never dreamed she would be defeated by a technique he had never even heard of, especially not in such an overwhelming and instantaneous fashion.
"Urgh!" Oh So-bang trembled with uncontrollable rage before vomiting a mouthful of blood and collapsing into unconsciousness. He couldn't accept this reality. If Bukjin took first place in this competition, the contract dictated that Bukjin wouldn't have to pay back a single cent, nor would he become a slave. Oh So-bang’s revenge was evaporating before his eyes.
"Match over! The winner is Im Buk—"
The referee began to announce the result, but Bukjin interrupted him, defying everyone's expectations.
"Wait a moment."
Bukjin looked at Mok Simwol with a chilling smile. "Listen here, you little fox. I know exactly what you're thinking. You're telling yourself a hundred, a thousand times that you can't accept this. You think I used some strange, unknown trick to catch you off guard, and that's the only reason you lost, right?"
Mok Simwol said nothing, but her eyes and the set of her jaw confirmed his words. Bukjin withdrew his sword and stepped back.
"Heh, fine. Let’s do it again. I don't want to hear any excuses later. Treat your wounds and pick up your sword. We’ll go again. I’m going to show you what true despair looks like."
Mok Simwol looked at him with a mix of surprise and renewed hope. The referee was equally flustered and looked toward Cho Heun for guidance. After a moment of deliberation, Cho Heun nodded. A fierce fire ignited in Mok Simwol’s eyes.
"Fine. Don't regret this."
Bukjin didn't bother responding. Mok Simwol stanched the bleeding in her shoulders and retrieved her sword. While Bukjin’s strikes had drawn blood, they were shallow pricks rather than deep penetrations. Once she stopped the bleeding and circulated her Hyeongi, she was perfectly capable of fighting at full strength.
"This time, I won't use the fourth strike," Bukjin declared, raising his Peerless Virtue Sword with a cold expression. "I’ll use only the three strikes of the Close-body Triple Link. Let’s see if that 'counter-strategy' of yours actually works."
He immediately unleashed the three-strike formula. Mok Simwol glared at him with eyes full of fury. "You asked for this!"
She swung her sword violently, executing the bizarre counter-movements she had memorized.
Clang!
The clear ring of clashing metal filled the air. The sword light emanating from Bukjin’s hand suddenly accelerated like a streak of light. The moment their blades collided, Bukjin’s sword seemed to ignore her defense entirely, sliding through a microscopic opening in her stance.
'He’s not even trying to block? This is insane!'
Mok Simwol’s eyes widened in terror.
Thwack!
Bukjin used the flat of his blade to strike her hard in the waist. The impact rattled her entire upper body. Mok Simwol was sent reeling before collapsing to her knees, a thin trail of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
"Well? Can you counter it now?" Bukjin stood tall, his sword already sheathed.
Mok Simwol’s hair tie snapped, and her long black hair spilled over her shoulders, veiling half her face. she struggled to lift her head, her voice trembling. "H-How... how did you do that?"
"Still don't get it? Haha!" Bukjin laughed. "That 'counter-strategy' you were so proud of is nothing more than a toy created by some idiot who thinks he’s clever. He doesn't understand the profound mystery of the Close-body Triple Link, nor the state where the body and sword become one to adapt the forms. A useless trick like that might work against students who haven't mastered the basics, but did you really think a rigid, repetitive pattern could stop my blade?"
Below the platform, Gwan Bi-do’s face was a mask of shock and fury. He knew those words were aimed directly at him.
'That little bastard...! He’s really looking for death!' Gwan Bi-do etched the name 'Im Bukjin' into his heart with murderous intent.
"I know you still haven't accepted it," Bukjin continued. "People like you always find an excuse to justify themselves. You're probably thinking you only lost because you didn't get a chance to use that 1-star technique you worked so hard on—the Red Star Swordsmanship, right?"
Mok Simwol spoke in a low, icy voice. "If that's the case, will you let me use it? Will you fight me fairly one more time?"
Bukjin stared at her, genuinely dumbfounded.
'Wow, what a piece of work. Seriously, there's a limit to how shameless someone can be.'