The Sword

'What?' Jo Pacheon couldn't believe his ears. 'He can still strike? Is that brat seriously uninjured?'

Startled by Bukjin's declaration, Jo Pacheon's reaction slowed for a fraction of a second. He hurriedly raised his blade to parry Bukjin's strike.

BOOM!

An illusion resembling a massive spray of water erupted in all directions. A titanic force surged toward Jo Pacheon. Forced back a step, he instinctively tried to shift his stance into a different sword style, nearly abandoning the Jesujeon Sword Technique. Fortunately, he managed to regain control of his hands just in time to avoid breaking the rules of the duel. Using any swordsmanship other than the Jesujeon Sword Technique would result in immediate disqualification.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The Doran Sword formed a relentless screen of steel, launching a ferocious assault on Jo Pacheon. He was forced to retreat further and further, struggling to block the onslaught. As he backed away, a thick, murderous intent flickered in his eyes.

'This makes no sense.'

"Im Bukjin, die! Cold Water Strike!"

Jo Pacheon unleashed his killing move once more. The sound of crashing waves began to emanate from his hands as they gripped the hilt. Simultaneously, a terrifying storm of Mystic Energy erupted.

At that exact moment, Bukjin shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Jesujeon Sword Technique Secret Art: Yeoksuhan!"

The light surged upward against Jo Pacheon's energy like a vengeful Dragon King, creating a massive, swirling vortex.

"What is that?!"

"Has Im Bukjin realized a killing move as well?"

"Who's stronger?"

The young swordsmen and swordswomen in the audience felt the storm of Mystic Energy blowing toward them and scrambled back, their eyes wide with shock. This was a moment they couldn't afford to miss. Every martial artist knew that once a technique was mastered to its peak, one could create a hidden secret art based on its foundations. The power of such a secret art varied wildly depending on the practitioner's talent and enlightenment. Furthermore, most killing moves boasted power and lethality far superior to standard forms.

Jo Pacheon's Cold Water Strike had been formidable, leaving ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the crowd in awe. However, the killing move of the Jesujeon Sword Technique unleashed by Im Bukjin was every bit its equal in momentum and power. To the spectators, both Bukjin and Jo Pacheon were monstrous geniuses. Their ability to create their own killing moves was proof enough of their extraordinary talent.

The moment the two collided, the veteran swordsmen, as well as Baek Hae-geum and Jeong Sam-seok, leaped to their feet, watching the clash with tense, wide-eyed expressions.

CRASH!

A sound like dozens of massive waves colliding echoed through the garden. A terrifying shockwave rippled outward, covering everything.

In the next instant...

"Urgh!"

A groan escaped someone's lips. A figure was thrown out from the center of the Mystic Energy storm. The body slammed into the ground with the force of a falling ancient tree. It was a gruesome sight.

That person was...

Countless eyes fixed on the fallen figure. 'Who is it?' Everyone stared, their breath held tight.

The one lying on the ground was Jo Pacheon!

'Jo Pacheon was defeated!'

The peerless genius of White Cloud City was sprawled on the floor, coughing up blood. His face was contorted in agony. A deep sword wound ran across the left side of his face, so deep the bone was visible. His clothes were shredded as if he had been hacked by a thousand blades. He struggled to push himself up, but he only managed to roll pathetically on the ground. It seemed the strength had completely left his limbs.

A moment later, Bukjin's figure slowly emerged from the dust, looking perfectly composed. He carried an aura as light as a feather floating above the clouds. The outcome was clear. Anyone could see who the victor was.

Silence fell over the government office's garden. Most of the audience was too stunned to speak, their faces blank with shock. The result was simply too far removed from anything they had imagined.

The young martial artists began to scrutinize Bukjin intensely. They gritted their teeth, searching his body for even the slightest scratch or bruise. But...

There wasn't a single trace of battle on Bukjin. The glowing Mystic Formations and the scattered torches illuminated the beautiful youth. Clad ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in his white swordsman's uniform, his long black hair fluttering in the wind, Bukjin stood tall with a serene expression, his sword held steady. His straight posture made him look like a blade himself—as if a Sword Immortal had descended upon the world.

At his feet lay Jo Pacheon, his golden hair disheveled and messy. He remained collapsed, unable to rise. The entire scene was like a masterpiece painting, captivating everyone's gaze.

The elderly swordsmen stood with their mouths agape. They understood the true intention behind this Sigeom-ji-yak. Baek Hae-geum had brought the power of White Cloud City here to humiliate his former senior brother, Jeong Sam-seok, in front of everyone. Most of the people present had attended merely to bolster Baek Hae-geum's prestige and witness Jeong Sam-seok's public disgrace.

In the past, the man known as Jeong Noe had been a figure who commanded the winds and clouds. But the current Jeong Sam-seok was seen as a washed-up relic, easily trampled underfoot. Bukjin was supposed to be nothing more than the tool used to deliver that final insult.

And yet, the very boy no one had cared about had flipped the script so completely. No one had seen this coming. Because Jo Pacheon had been utterly defeated, Baek Hae-geum's reputation had plummeted to the dirt. Naturally, all eyes turned toward Baek Hae-geum.

Standing at his seat, Baek Hae-geum maintained a calm expression. He even wore a faint smile. However, the corners of his mouth were twitching minutely—a betrayal of the crumbling composure of the man called the 'Sword Saint' of White Cloud City.

In a flash, Baek Hae-geum appeared beside Jo Pacheon. He used one hand to pull his disciple to his feet. After a quick assessment, he realized the injuries weren't fatal. At the moment of impact, the violent shock and recoil had wreaked havoc on Jo Pacheon's internal Mystic Energy, leaving his body temporarily paralyzed. Aside from that, the wounds were mostly superficial. There was no severe internal damage; with rest, he would recover quickly.

A moment later, Jo Pacheon gasped for air, spitting out a large amount of blood along with stagnant energy. Finally, he was able to move his limbs again.

"Little boy, your hands are quite fierce," Baek Hae-geum said, glaring at Bukjin. A thick aura of killing intent radiated from him.

Now that things had come to this, Baek Hae-geum had to admit that his former senior brother's eye for talent was still extraordinary. Bukjin's innate potential and talent seemed to be at least three times that of Jo Pacheon. For Baek Hae-geum, this was an intolerable reality.

Caught in the piercing gaze of the Sword Saint, Bukjin felt his breath hitch. It felt as if a massive mountain was crushing his chest, squeezing his very heart. His face rapidly turned pale.

Not far away, anger flared in the eyes of Im Jin, who was disguised as a boy. She moved to rush forward and strike, but a hand pressed down on her shoulder. It was Im Ji. He shook his head slowly.

"Watch closely," Im Ji said.

When Im Jin looked back, she saw that Jeong Sam-seok was already standing beside Bukjin. Though he didn't say a word, a powerful momentum—stronger than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anything they had seen from him before—erupted from his body. Without lifting a finger, he caused Baek Hae-geum's oppressive aura to vanish without a trace. Bukjin felt the crushing pressure lift instantly.

Bukjin stepped forward and extended his hand toward Jo Pacheon.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jo Pacheon asked through gritted teeth.

"The sword," Bukjin replied, his expression hovering somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

This was the secret behind Bukjin's victory. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠By paying the price in smartphone power, he had achieved the impossible.

"You...!" Jo Pacheon, harboring a deep grudge, hissed threateningly. "Im Bukjin, you had better think carefully. If you continue to act this arrogantly and invite the resentment of others, that resentment will swallow you whole one day."

"The loser has a lot to say. Are you still barking after being beaten so pathetically?" Bukjin said, acting as if he couldn't care less. "What? You chicken?"

Jo Pacheon's rage boiled over. "Im Bukjin, you bastard...! The only reason you won was because of the rules of this duel! If it weren't for the restrictions, I would have shown you my true strength! I would have torn you into a thousand pieces!"

Bukjin waved his hand dismissively, clearly bored with the conversation. "Stop with the useless chatter and hand over the sword."

Jo Pacheon felt like his blood was flowing backward from sheer fury. In the last three years, he had never been humiliated like this.

"Name your price," Jo Pacheon said, staring at Bukjin. "State any condition. I am willing to pay whatever it takes."

Jo Pacheon truly loved the Chamcheon Sword he had just acquired. Its quality and appearance were top-tier, and it even had his name engraved on it by Beom Jo-ang himself through the art of the Sword Command. Moreover, its compatibility with him was so high that he couldn't bear to give it up.

But Bukjin's answer remained the same.

"The sword."

Jo Pacheon felt like he was going to vomit blood. The boy was impossible to talk to. He glanced toward his master, Baek Hae-geum. Baek Hae-geum looked as if he wanted to tear Bukjin limb from limb right then and there.