Chapter 33
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: This Must Be Sorcery
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Nangong Motian's temper flared at Hwang Tae-seong's utterly relaxed demeanor.
'This bastard knows full well who the Nangong Clan is, yet he struts around with that smug attitude. What an arrogant fool. Fine! I'll make sure he spends a full year bedridden!'
The Nangong Clan, considered the strongest among the Five Great Families' alliance, mockingly dubbed the Ragtag Union.
Nangong Motian, grandson of the Nangong Clan head and the focus of all their resources.
His current internal energy approached one and a half cycles—nearly ninety years' worth.
To accumulate such vast power at a mere twenty-something age was comparable to a mid-tier sect leader.
This gave him absolute confidence that his internal energy surpassed any peer.
Thus, Nangong Motian planned an all-out assault from the start.
He believed only an overwhelming victory could humble this insolent unorthodox scum.
'You brought this on yourself! Take this—my five-star power surge! Hah!'
No matter the supreme expert under heaven, the internal energy one could unleash in an instant had limits.
The gap between master and novice lay in the sheer volume they could muster at once.
Attempting to unleash ten stars' worth at once risked bursting one's meridians and suffering grave injury.
Thus, low-grade heart methods topped at three stars, high-grade at five.
In a mere friendly spar, both sides would gradually build energy to gauge depths before concluding.
But Nangong Motian, intent on teaching a lesson to this presumptuous unorthodox fool, went full throttle immediately.
He channeled his maximum burst—his palm pressing into Tae-seong's.
—Puhaak!
Nangong Motian's robes ballooned like a wind-filled sack.
Dust billowed from the ground.
His limit: just shy of one cycle, a staggering forty-five years' worth.
For most warriors, such a sudden influx would rupture their channels, leaving them crippled.
But Nangong Motian, cruel by nature, gave no thought to mercy.
His mind was solely on punishing the insolent unorthodox dog.
'Bastard! Forty-five years' worth surging in at once—you can't possibly withstand it!'
Yet it was merely Nangong Motian's wishful thinking. Tae-seong's face remained serene.
He even winked at Nangong Motian, as if mocking him.
"……!?"
Nangong Motian's eyes bulged at the sight.
'My full-power burst... and he's completely fine? Impossible!'
It meant the opponent's internal energy matched or exceeded his own.
Nangong Motian couldn't accept it.
'No way! This must be sorcery!'
Unable to speak mid-clash, he screamed inwardly.
Resolved to shatter him utterly, he summoned every ounce again.
This time, his absolute max: all ten stars into the unorthodox scum.
'Hiyaaaaap!!'
Yet the scum's expression showed no change.
"……."
Even expending everything yielded nothing; despair crept into Nangong Motian's eyes.
Then Tae-seong's energy began slowly pushing back.
Clear proof his was superior.
The match was over.
Tae-seong's flawless victory.
Now, he could crush Nangong Motian with internal injury whenever he wished.
'H-how... how can this be...'
Nangong Motian couldn't believe it. Then Tae-seong withdrew first, pulling his hand away.
Despite dominance, he let Nangong Motian go unscathed.
Tae-seong even cupped his fists in respect.
"As expected of the Nangong Clan."
Just then, attendants brought light refreshments and tea to Tae-seong's spot.
Smacking his lips, Tae-seong said,
"Let's call our friendly exchange here. Time to go."
As he turned, he flashed a subtle mocking smile.
Nangong Motian's first taste of such ridicule in life.
"……."
The situation made no sense to him.
This was utterly impossible.
Never before had he lost an internal energy clash to any contemporary.
Yet he lost—to a total stranger, an unorthodox one at that.
The world seemed to crumble; nausea welled up.
Unaware, his fellow disciples scolded him.
"You're just letting him walk away?"
"Weren't you too lenient? Should've at least injured him."
"Exactly. You're too soft-hearted for your own good."
"If it'd been me, he'd have crawled out on all fours."
"……."
Feeling suicidal, he couldn't admit defeat aloud.
Thus, he faced his life's greatest crisis in twenty years.
Yet in defeat, he overlooked the crucial: Tae-seong's energy carried an unusual chill unlike typical unorthodox qi.
Exiting the Thousand Days Tower, his peers inspected Tae-seong head to toe.
Jo Gi-myeong peered into Tae-seong's eyes.
"You okay? Your eyes look a bit glazed."
Sima Ryang prodded his arms and legs.
"Nothing broken, right?"
"He might be a goner already."
"He's breathing."
"No need for the fuss—I'm fine."
"Hard to believe..."
Yang Cho-gun, dazed, murmured weakly,
"I still can't believe we walked out unscathed."
"No big deal. Forget it—let's find something fun. Head that way, where the crowd's buzzing."
"S-sure."
"Please, no causing trouble."
"Got it."
Tae-seong and his friends headed toward the festival grounds.
The amusement grounds brimmed with games: arrow-tossing into jars, toy archery, tile-smashing—hands-on fun everywhere.
Amid it, women's gazes locked on Tae-seong.
"That guy's insanely handsome, right?"
"Totally. Clean clothes, stylish too. From the Imperial Palace Martial Academy?"
"Check those arm muscles. Wild."
Cheers erupted wherever Tae-seong passed.
Surrounded by men lately, he'd missed it—but his broad Pacific shoulders and flower-boy face thrilled women plenty.
His looks shone brightest here.
Not just commoners; elite academy girls couldn't look away.
Yang Cho-gun, with his contrasting charm beside him, made them both glow like stars.
As the women shifted focus, the men's eyes darkened with envy.
Some scraped coins to buy gifts for the girls, yet these two drew eyes just standing there.
"Shall we try this?"
Arrow-into-jar folk game.
Fifty pun for ten arrows; prizes from six successes: wooden ring at six, bracelet at seven, small doll at eight, medium at nine, large at ten.
No one craved prizes, but worth a try.
All skilled, they snagged small ones; Jo Gi-myeong and Sima Ryang's matching six-arrow rings looked comically cute.
Tae-seong's turn.
He flung arrows casually—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
Each plunged perfectly into jars.
Onlookers gasped.
"Wow~!"
"Amazing."
All ten clean; the owner eyed him warily, handing over the giant prize doll.
"Congrats. Here's the top prize."
A massive tiger doll—too bulky to carry.
Beside Tae-seong, a little girl stared longingly.
He offered it.
"Want it?"
She nodded eagerly.
Tae-seong handed it over without hesitation.
"Here you go."
Her face bloomed with innocent joy.
Next: archery game.
"This one's mine!"
Jo Gi-myeong stepped up, nocking an arrow.
Test-plucking strings, his pro moves darkened the owner's face.
Bullseye, as expected.
Top prize: enormous candied carp.
Boys' eyes sparkled at Jo Gi-myeong.
He sliced and shared; kids devoured happily.
Post-arrows, tile-breaking station.
Tiles stacked high; mostly martial folk—academy students and common warriors.
All with girlfriends, eager to flex strength.
"Come on! Tile smash—one nyang entry! Prizes galore—top is a jade hairpin!"
Steep fee, but best reward.
Yet required shattering thirty tiles.