Chapter 53

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Translator: 8uhl

Chapter: 53

Chapter Title: 투신기협-53화

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Translator: 8uhl

Chapter: 53

Chapter Title: Opening Ceremony

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As he walked, the surrounding blades ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of grass rapidly lost their vitality and withered away.

It was a stark demonstration of the foundation upon which his martial art was built.

The entrance of the Imperial Palace Martial Academy seemed modest in comparison, but it was anything but.

The Imperial Palace Divine Generals, the emperor's direct elite force, were escorting the academy's team in full armor.

Their numbers approached three hundred, and in terms of sheer scale and grandeur, they overwhelmed all the other academies.

Though the imperial soldiers might lag behind martial artists in pure skill, their weapons were threatening enough to command respect even from the realm's top experts.

Their armor was as reliable as any protective aura, and the divine weapons they wielded could pierce through even the strongest protective energies.

Moreover, the heavy crossbows they favored as their main armament were a nightmare for martial artists unable to deploy such defenses.

The sheer volume of troops they could mobilize was on a completely different scale from the martial world, rendering comparisons meaningless.

This was precisely why the imperial army maintained a balance of power with the martial artists.

Had the imperial forces been weak enough for the martial world to dismiss, the imperial family would have been annihilated long ago.

The entrants from each academy and their escorts proceeded in order toward the arena where the matches would be held.

Upon arriving at the venue for the martial tournament, Tae-seong couldn't help but be stunned.

He knew the Central Plains were densely populated—even a three-year-old could tell you that—but he had never imagined such a massive crowd.

He truly felt the meaning of "a sea of people."

Every hill in sight was swarming with spectators, and the river was dotted with boats packed full of onlookers.

"What an incredible throng."

Yang Cho-gun responded to Tae-seong's remark.

"They say the best spectacle is always a fight, right?"

Pyo Gi-myeong gave a wry smile at Yang Cho-gun's words.

"Being treated like entertainment isn't exactly thrilling."

"Well, it could turn into a good opportunity."

Tae-seong and his group nodded firmly and marched toward the arena in step.

The arena's scale was enormous enough to leave everyone awestruck.

But to Tae-seong, who had seen modern domed stadiums like the World Cup venue in Sangam, it didn't stir much excitement.

However, Yang Cho-gun and the others felt differently.

They stood there, mouths agape, overwhelmed by its size.

"It's... huge."

"In my life, I've never seen a martial arena this massive."

"I concur."

One might wonder why they bothered building something so grand when a simple open field with a platform would suffice—a colossal wooden structure dominated the site.

In terms of size alone, it rivaled several large estates combined.

The immense investment was obvious at a glance, a testament to how much effort the imperial family had poured into this Martial Academy Tournament.

The main venue featured three massive halls, designated for the righteous faction, evil faction, and imperial teams to stay during the event.

Was it Tae-seong's imagination, or did the Imperial Palace Martial Academy's hall look even larger and more imposing?

Its central position and overall design clearly emphasized the emperor's authority.

As they arrived at the main arena, a thunderous roar erupted.

It was the soul-stirring cheers of martial artists rooting for their respective affiliations.

Some groups of young women were cheering for specific individuals.

The man hundreds of them adored was Jang Baek-pung, the Sword Emperor's grandson.

With his handsome looks and prestigious lineage, he even had a fan club of swooning girls.

Jang Baek-pung waved to them once, sending tears streaming down their faces as they sobbed in ecstasy.

"Baek-pung oppa~ We love you!"

"Please win!"

"Don't get hurt, oppa!"

"We'll cheer for you all the way!"

Tae-seong shook his head at the sight.

'If they're already like this, some might faint dead away when the matches start.'

To Tae-seong's eyes, Jang Baek-pung looked like a modern idol on a concert stage, furrowing his brow in distaste.

'It's been a while.'

As he took in the arena, Tae-seong recalled stepping into UFC venues in his previous life.

Though different in many ways, just seeing the arena reignited the exhilarating rush he had briefly forgotten since arriving in this martial world—the mix of fear, excitement, and anticipation.

The warriors from the three academies assembled in formation, clad in their formal uniforms.

Hundreds of them lined up impeccably, exuding a solemn grandeur.

Behind them stood their escort forces, radiating fierce hostility.

With the self-proclaimed strongest of the vast Central Plains gathered in one place, the air grew chillingly tense.

Exaggerating slightly, even the birds overhead seemed to plummet from the sky.

In the stark atmosphere, the Dragon Academy students and Demon Dragon Academy cadets glared at each other murderously, as always.

The funny part was that the innocent Imperial Palace Martial Academy was stuck right in the middle.

They had deliberately placed them there to separate the two sides in case of trouble, leaving the imperials to bear the brunt.

Among them, Yi Hwan—the youngest son of the Eight Demons Sect leader—had particularly unsettling eyes.

The Eight Demons Sect had sent the most reinforcements during the raid on the Luoyang Branch Secret Sub-branch, so their losses must have been heavy.

Rumor had it that Yi Hwan's brother, Yi Hong, had died that day.

That explained the guy's wild stare.

In this powder-keg tension where a blade could flash at any moment, the Imperial Palace Martial Academy's director Geum Deok-jin, Dragon Academy's chief instructor Jang Man-cheol, and Demon Dragon Academy's head instructor Baek Si-ho climbed the platform amiably together.

Director Geum Deok-jin's speech kicked off a round of addresses from each, tripling the suffering for everyone.

Endless platitudes flowed about martial world peace, harmony, and the like, smooth as polished stones.

Only when impatient spectators began slipping away did they finally announce the key tournament rules.

The top rule: absolutely no killing your opponent.

Stop attacking immediately if they admit defeat or raise their hands.

Killing meant instant disqualification.

A death in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠friendly match could ignite a full righteous-evil war.

That was the greatest concern for all the gathered experts.

Amusingly, the Dragon Academy's entrants were all first-years.

This was to replace the hundred White-Clothed Youth Corps members lost in the Luoyang raid; most third- and fourth-years had been drafted into the corps.

After announcing plans to double their numbers, most second-years were now in intensive training on Wudang Mountain.

Aside from the first-year tournament participants, nearly everyone was now in the White-Clothed Youth Corps.

It showed the Murim Alliance's all-out effort to keep pace with the Demonic Cult.

This must have been what they meant about soon seeing the Sword Emperor's grandson.

The opening ceremony concluded, and the tournament proper began.

First up: drawing the brackets.

Academy representatives and tournament officials took the stage to draw for the round of 32.

The method was simple.

Each academy drew lots of their assigned color.

Dragon Academy: white; Demon Dragon Academy: black; Imperial Palace Martial Academy: yellow.

Separating by color ensured no intra-academy matchups from the round of 32 onward.

Same-color draws were redone.

Both Dragon and Demon Dragon entrants desperately wanted to face the Imperial Palace team.

Preserving strength in the round of 32 would give an edge in the round of 16.

As drawing commenced, players from each academy mounted the stage, pulled numbered slips from the box, and shouted the numbers.

With each announcement, joy and despair rippled through the crowd.

"Yes!"

"Damn..."

"Ah... why him of all people?"

"Mother! Thank you!"

"Imperial Palace? Lucky you... so jealous."

"Didn't I say I dreamed of a pig last night?"

"Heh, I should've bought that dream."

Those matched against the Imperial Palace team cheered triumphantly.

This soured the mood among the Imperial Palace entrants.

Who enjoys being seen as pushovers?

"Those bastards... getting cocky."

"Sigh... hold it in."

"If it's unfair, prove it with skill... I'll win for sure. Definitely..."

Conversely, Demon Dragon players drawn against Dragon Academy looked grimly tense.

The three-hour draw ended, and the round of 32 bracket was posted.

As soon as the full schedule for the 32 matches was posted, people rushed to check it.

Copies were hastily transcribed and sent via messenger birds to sects across the land.

Local gambling house runners dashed back with lightness skills, sprinting to their bosses.

Naturally, odds on the Imperial Palace Martial Academy were sky-high—some exceeding 100 to 1.

The tournament was heating up the Central Plains, from Sichuan onward, even more fiercely.

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