Chapter 64
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Sima Liang's Armbar
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Sima Liang unleashed the first form of the Black Star Fist, Thunderclap Strike, then immediately followed up with a one-two straight and a low kick.
The movements were so swift and concise that Chu O-gyeom, trying to dodge the one-two straight, took the low kick square on and grimaced.
Not only was the power considerable, but the linkage of the techniques was incredibly fast and clean.
The Black Star Sect members, seeing his first technique, instantly recognized it as their sect's martial art.
But when they saw the second follow-up, they were puzzled.
There was no such movement in the Black Star Fist they knew.
Another person breaking into a cold sweat upon seeing it was Cheon-sim-dan.
The low kick that had been a nightmare for him was now being recreated by someone other than Tae-seong.
Even as Cheon-sim-dan relived that day's humiliation, Sima Liang's assault continued.
Caught off guard by these unfamiliar attacks, Chu O-gyeom demanded,
"Where the hell did a bastard like you learn such weird martial arts?"
"Do I have any obligation to tell you?"
"Hmph! You're the type who'd just bob around like a cork even if thrown in water... Fine, let's see how far your luck holds out."
Chu O-gyeom's words soon became reality. Sima Liang began to be pushed back bit by bit.
The fundamental reason was the overwhelming gap in their skills.
The very fact that Chu O-gyeom had been chosen to represent the Demon Dragon Academy proved he was no pushover.
He had only taken hits because he'd been momentarily flustered by Sima Liang's unorthodox attacks.
—Thwack!
Thud!
"Guh!"
"Hey~ Where'd that cocky little shit from the start go? Huh? Why don't you keep showboating?"
"Kuh..."
Blood was streaming from Sima Liang's shoulder.
His clothes were already shredded like rags from the dragon claw hand strikes.
Chu O-gyeom pressed the battered Sima Liang even harder.
"Show some more of that arrogance, you bastard! I'll make damn sure a illegitimate spawn like you never even reaches my toe your whole life!"
—Thud! Thwack!
"Kehek! Ptoo!"
Blood spurted from Sima Liang's mouth after taking several kicks to the body.
Grinning cruelly at him, Chu O-gyeom sneered,
"Why don't you beg me to spare you like last time? Otherwise, you'll be going down as a cripple."
"Ptoo! The cripple's you, cripple."
"You little shit! You really need to see your coffin before you shed tears."
Chu O-gyeom launched a final blow at the staggering Sima Liang.
A red aura flowed from his dragon claw hand.
Taking that strike head-on would surely tear his body to shreds.
At that moment, a fierce glint flashed in Sima Liang's eyes.
As Chu O-gyeom flew at him, Sima Liang wrapped his right hand around the man's right wrist like a clamp. Then, slipping behind to his right side, he drove his left arm down to pin and push the shoulder.
It was a move he couldn't have even attempted without his honed reflexes and external arts training.
Twisting the arm back while adding rotational force and body weight, he shattered the opponent's balance.
Then, slipping his left leg lightly into the lower body, Chu O-gyeom toppled forward.
But simply tripping the opponent wouldn't win this spar.
He had to force the word "surrender" from his mouth.
Sima Liang smashed his right elbow down onto the fallen man's ear like a stamp, then grabbed the right arm and wedged it between his legs. He hooked his leg in front of the chest.
The moment Tae-seong saw Sima Liang's armbar, he nodded.
'Not perfect, but the technique locked in.'
If the opponent knew even a bit about ground fighting, he wouldn't have allowed the armbar. But since he didn't even know what an armbar was, it went in smoothly.
Soon, with Chu O-gyeom sprawled on his back, his arm was trapped between Sima Liang's thighs. Pinned beneath the legs, he let out screams of agony.
"Gaaaaah! Graaaaaah!"
As Chu O-gyeom panicked, Sima Liang's armbar tightened to perfection. The match was all but decided.
'It's over.'
When Chu O-gyeom tried to resist with his free hand, Sima Liang wrenched the trapped arm harder.
A even louder wail erupted.
"Gaaaaaaaah...!"
"Where do you think you're going."
Finally, surrender burst from Chu O-gyeom's lips.
"I-I surrender!! Surrender!!!"
At the cry of surrender, Sima Liang released the arm he'd been gripping with all his might.
Clutching his freed arm, Chu O-gyeom rolled on the ground. Had he not cried out, it wouldn't have stopped at a dislocated shoulder—his arm would have snapped.
"Hey, kid, take it easy."
A proud father's smile spread across Tae-seong's face.
Perfectly recalled after just one demonstration—truly impressive.
His upper body a bloody mess from the dragon claw strikes, Sima Liang prowled the arena like a beast, roaring.
The gazes of the Black Star Sect members fixed on him were utter chaos.
Returning to the waiting area, Sima Liang received treatment from the Imperial Palace physicians.
His comrades swarmed him, celebrating the miraculous victory.
"Good work."
"That was an awesome match."
"Following Yang Cho-gun, now even you advancing to the round of 16... This is a miracle!"
"Miracle my ass—it's all skill!"
"Right! Exactly! Hahaha!"
I approached Sima Liang and congratulated him sincerely on his win.
"Congrats on making the round of 16."
"All thanks to you. Appreciate it."
"Thanks nothing—it's all your hard work."
"You got revenge proper."
Sima Liang extended his hand.
I grinned and clasped it firmly.
As we basked in the heartwarming moment, the next round of 16 bracket was announced.
The sixteen advancing fighters: From Dragon Academy—Point Spear Sect's Cheon Gi-ryang, Shaolin Temple's Gong-gyeon, Hainan Sect's Yang Dan-won, Overlord Sect's Cheon-sim-dan, Great Sword Sect's Jin Ga-baek, Nangong Family's Nangong Mo-cheon, Eight Freaks Sect's Yi Hwan, Mount Hua Sect's Jang Baek-pung—a total of eight.
From Demon Dragon Academy—Demonic Cult's Heo Mu-seong, Yeom Ma-cheon, Death God Sect's Deung Heo-cheong, Heaven Machine Sect's Baek Yu-heon, Four Black Lotuses' Un Ja-cheon—five in all.
And our Imperial Palace Martial Academy's three, making sixteen who advanced to the round of 16.
Everyone was stunned that three from Imperial Palace Martial Academy had survived the round of 32.
Who could have predicted this?
The gambling dens were in an uproar, especially.
Rumor had it some payouts neared two hundred to one. Meaning almost no one bet on our side—who in their right mind would bet on no-odds underdogs?
Then, a transmission came from the shadows.
—As ordered, we've placed bets on Your Excellency for the next round of 16 as well.
—Good work.
—Um, but...
—Something to say?
—I chipped in a bit from my own savings, just in case. Thought I should report it.
—That's your personal matter, no need to report. But gambling can be addictive and dangerous—don't overdo it.
—Thank you, my lord.
It was a bit rich coming from a gambler warning about addiction, but his opportunistic spirit was admirable.
The round of 16 began two days later.
Once more, crowds poured in like clouds.
The bamboo spectator stands had been expanded to an even grander scale.
Merchants anticipated fatter profits than before, but the garrison troops swooped in, taxing half their earnings, leaving them tearful.
The long-awaited round of 16 kicked off.
Drums signaled the start, and the fighters ascended the arena.
The first match: Point Spear Sect's Cheon Gi-ryang versus Shaolin Temple's Gong-gyeon.
Cheon Gi-ryang appeared wrapped head to toe in bandages, fresh blood still seeping through. No way he was fit for battle.
He yielded the win to Gong-gyeon, who helped him down from the arena in a touching display.
Unlike the previous matches, the clash between Yang Cho-gun and Hainan Sect's Yang Dan-won was ice-cold.
They glared at each other with murderous intent.
"You know Father's here watching, right?"
"Don't care."
"What's got you so pissed? For an illegitimate son, you've lived cushy just like me."
"Lived cushy like you? What kind of bullshit is that?"
"That internal energy of yours—who do you think you built it up thanks to? All because of the clan, isn't it?"
"You hogged every spirit medicine in the house and now it's 'thanks to the clan'? Damn, that chokes me up."
"Then how do you explain your internal energy? Looks like at least a jiazi's worth at a glance."
"All thanks to Master Rui."
"Master Rui? That barbarian?"
"Call my master a barbarian one more time, and I'll kill you, spar or no spar."
"Whoa, some killing intent. Can't imagine what that guy did for you to defend him like this. Whatever, not that curious. But what trick did that colorwood freak use to boost your energy? Mind sharing?"
"Trick?"
Yang Cho-gun briefly recalled memories with his master.
"This... eatable ginseng?"
"Ah! What's this?"
What the colorful tree man uncle offered was a humanoid root, blood-red like ginseng. Anyone could tell it was millennium blood ginseng.
"Looks just like mandragora."
"Uncle! Where'd you get something this precious?"
"I like plants, so I rummaged deep in the mountains over there."
He pointed to the deep woods infested with venomous snakes and bugs, impassable to most.
"Sell this and you'll get rich! Super~ duper rich!"
"Rich? Money?"
"Yes! Uncle Colorwood's gonna be loaded!"
"Oh~ Really? How precious is it?"
"Super precious! Martial artists eat it and fly around, shoot energy blasts from their hands!"
"Really? Good for martial folk?"
"Yes!"
"Then you take it."
"Huh? Why?"
"I no need money. I no martial man. So you eat okay."
"F-For real? You're telling me to eat this?"
"Yes! Real. You eat okay. You no martial man?"
"W-Well, true, but..."
Suddenly, Yang Cho-gun thought of the spirit medicines provided to other disciples.
Hainan Sect classified disciples as first-class, second-class, third-class, treating them hierarchically.
All resources went to first-class disciples, who received the clan's secret elixirs.
But Yang Cho-gun got none.
Despite having the best talent among them.