Chapter 230
Chapter 230
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 230
Chapter Title: Exchange (2)
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The students of the Righteous Martial Academy's Four Great Dormitories and the martial monks from the Shaolin-affiliated academy were the select few among the young later-generation experts aspiring to make their mark in the orthodox Murim world.
Thus, one could say that gathering just the later-generation experts from these two academies, which had held annual exchange tournaments, amounted to assembling all of orthodox Murim's young talents.
However, this Righteous Vanguard Grand Tournament had drawn even more invited groups.
'The Grand Tournament sure is a grand stage.'
Three hegemons from the outer regions—who maintained amicable relations with the Murim Alliance—had sent their later-generation experts.
Additionally, new powers that had walked neutral or independent paths until now but decided to join forces with the Murim Alliance amid the turbulent world had dispatched their own young experts or envoys.
'The representative of the latter would be the Jin Merchants, the collective of Shanxi merchants led by my maternal uncle.'
Of course, my uncle had only recently risen from his sickbed, so he hadn't come in person.
'He sent Uncle Yoon Young instead, but even him I haven't seen.'
I had been swamped with tournament preparations and rehearsal for the opening ceremony.
And Uncle Yoon Young, upon arrival, had been whisked away by the Murim Alliance Leader to make acquaintances among the various luminaries, so our paths never crossed.
Anyway.
Given the unprecedented scale of the event, the number of distinguished guests was staggering.
"Now, we shall hear words of encouragement and the opening declaration from Abbot Gonghyo of Shaolin."
Among them, only one had earned the honor of delivering the opening address.
"With so many luminaries tirelessly worrying over the world, it is no small embarrassment for this unworthy monk of meager virtue to take on the grave duty of encouraging the future of the jianghu... But by the qualification of having lived longer than most, I shall say a few words."
It was Shaolin's Abbot Gonghyo.
"When I heard that the Righteous Martial Academy—the cradle of orthodox Murim—had been set ablaze by the machinations of the demonic cults, I felt as if struck by a bolt from the blue. Yet, upon learning that the academy's faculty and students had united to overcome that crisis, I felt nothing but admiration."
Gazing toward where the Righteous Martial Academy students stood, Abbot Gonghyo continued.
"Now, gathered here in this rebuilt academy and looking upon these youths, I feel an unprecedented swell of emotion. The wounds inflicted by the demons may not be slight, but if the young talents of orthodox Murim assembled here strengthen their resolve and bonds of friendship..."
Hearing this, I sent a thought to my master.
'Master?'
- ...What is it?
'You're awfully quiet today.'
- Awfully quiet today? What makes you say that about me?
Truth be told, it wasn't just today.
Whenever Shaolin came up lately, my master fell silent.
'Hmm. Who knows? The usual master who calls Taoists long-nosed and monks baldies would've said something like, "That monk who never showed his face is finally spouting off." What's with you and Shaolin?'
- What would there be?
But it seemed my master had no intention of explaining.
- You're just saying what you want to say, aren't you? Don't drag innocents into this.
There was definitely something.
But if it were important, he'd tell me, so I decided to let it pass as banter.
'How do we define an innocent, anyway?'
- ?
'Anyway, I'm innocent. Shaolin's offering a Great Return Pill as the prize for the top later-generation expert in this tournament. I'm the type who treats his sponsors right.'
- Seeing Hayeon, that doesn't seem entirely true?
'?'
Just then, the opening declaration came from Abbot Gonghyo's lips.
"Then, let the Grand Tournament commence!"
As the declaration rang out, the later-generation experts participating in the tournament filed out of the plaza in order.
The young Shaolin monk who had greeted me earlier approached once more.
"Earlier, my eagerness to spar with you made me delay introductions. This unworthy monk is Woncheol."
"Eon Yong-un."
After the belated exchange of names, Woncheol smiled brightly and departed with the other monks.
Watching them go, Eun Ha-seong asked Blue Dragon hyung.
"President, that Woncheol monk just now—is he the one who beat President Maejin-ak and President Hoyeon-chan without them even landing a hand?"
"No. Those monks' dharma names are Gaksan and Gaksim—the ones right behind Woncheol."
Woncheol.
The name was familiar to me as a avid reader of the original story.
But Blue Dragon hyung seemed to be hearing it for the first time, furrowing his brow as he muttered.
"To begin with, anyone with 'Won' as their generation name is a first-generation disciple of Shaolin, and first-generation disciples are assigned to protect the abbot... Was there a first-generation disciple that young?"
Answering his mutter was Zhuge Seolji, who happened to be nearby.
"There is. The disciple personally taken in by Merit Divine Monk in his later years."
At Zhuge Seolji's words, my younger siblings chimed in one by one.
"M-Merit Divine Monk? Isn't he one of the names always mentioned when discussing the world's greatest?"
"...Hmm. A master's greatness doesn't guarantee the disciple's, right?"
"Haseong-ah, think about it. For that to be true, that Woncheol monk wouldn't be the foremost among Shaolin's later-generation experts."
"...Come to think of it, I've heard rumors too. A monk who mastered three of the Seventy-Two Supreme Techniques—the essence of Shaolin martial arts—at age fifteen. That was five years ago already, so by now..."
At this point, I spoke up.
"Everyone seems scared, but I'm not? Guess my hellish training wasn't enough."
At my words, my younger siblings swallowed dryly and shook their heads vigorously.
"Woncheol or whoever, if my Great Return Pill falls into someone else's hands... I'll leave the rest to your imagination."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The first day's events in this four-day tournament were the preliminary rounds for Go and cuju.
Go came first.
Sixteen participants in total.
Just before the draw, as my master looked at the name plaques gathered to one side, he spoke.
- The Dams are from the North Sea Ice Palace, and the O and Yalu are from the Southern Sea and the steppes, right?
'O is a common surname even in the Central Plains, but that O Yunseong is indeed from the Southern Sea's Crimson Dragon Palace.'
Among them were guests from the outer regions who might not even care for Central Plains games.
'Participating for the honor, maybe?'
The Jin Merchants had sent one participant too, since it wasn't a martial contest.
The draws soon began.
I and Zhuge Seolji ended up in different groups.
"Participant Eon Yong-un in Group Gap-1. Participant Zhuge Seolji in Group Eul-7, Participant Dam Yongju in Group Gap-6..."
Being in different groups on the bracket meant we'd only meet in the finals.
Zhuge Seolji let out a relieved breath, as if that were a blessing.
"Phew. No chance of facing Yong-un-nim in the prelims. See you in the finals."
"...No chance?"
"From my perspective? The shock from the spring league is still fresh. Hmm. Even from the academy's standpoint. It'd be best if the top later-generation expert came from one of the Four Great Dormitories, right?"
"And 'see you in the finals'? That overconfidence is dangerous. Didn't you lose to me that way too?"
"...Ouch, right in the sore spot. Anyway, I hope either you or I take the win. It's not the Grand Tournament, but our seniors suffered humiliation in last year's exchange matches. Wouldn't it be great if one of us avenged that?"
"I want to win it myself."
"......"
- ...Yong-un, you're something else.
After parting with Zhuge Seolji, the prelim matches began.
Led by AlphaGo's strategies, I racked up easy wins.
In the semifinals, my opponent was unexpectedly from the North Sea Ice Palace.
I'd thought one of Sima Rang or the Jin Merchants' entrant from my group would advance.
"Dam Yongju of the North Sea Ice Palace."
"Eon Yong-un of Azure Bamboo Pavilion."
A crisp exchange of names.
The semifinal match began immediately.
In Go, the style shown on the board is called one's spirit.
Dam Yongju's spirit was, in a word, that of a fighting cock.
Snap.
Crack. Snap.
He responded to my moves—guided by my master's advice—with lightning speed.
Crack. Snap.
Crack. Snap.
His rapid-fire placements induced skirmishes everywhere on the board.
- Place it one space apart.
But he wasn't a match for my master.
Crack.
Snap.
'Attach right under where Dam Yongju just played?'
- Yes. Right there.
And that was it.
In Go, conceding defeat is typically conveyed not by words but by picking up a dead stone and placing it on an empty intersection.
Perhaps because he wasn't Central Plains-born, Dam Yongju conceded verbally with refreshing directness.
"I lose."
As he stared at me intently, I opened my mouth.
"What, got a problem? Why stare like that?"
He replied.
"Not dissatisfaction—admiration."
"For me?"
"More precisely, for the Ghost Dragon's companion. I'm the second son of the Ice Palace Lord, learning the affairs of the Finance Division. That takes me south of the northern borders often, and I happened to witness the Ghost Dragon's exploits in Shanxi."
The key North Sea Ice Palace figure in the original was Vice Palace Lord Dam Kyungju.
'His younger brother, then.'
As I thought that.
Dam Yongju continued.
"That led me to dig deeper, and everywhere I looked, tales emerged that made me question if we were even the same age. At some point, it turned to respect."
"...You're too kind."
"Not at all. They said you were good at Go, but this is beyond good—it's Go Saint level. No match for me in the North Sea Ice Palace. I was a frog in a well."
Go Saint.
Was he pleased by that term?
My master—who usually mocked Go opponents as nothing special—rarely praised Dam Yongju.
- Ahem. That Dam Yongju fellow plays quite well. Unique spirit gives him an edge in tournaments with back-to-back matches. Too bad he met me and got eliminated. Heh heh.
I couldn't relay it verbatim, so I rephrased slightly.
"You played well too. I got lucky."
Dam Yongju burst into laughter.
"Hahaha. Humble too. In that spirit, may I take this board as a memento? Let's play again on it if we meet someday."
He asked for the board, but the real point was rematching someday.
'He's forging a connection.'
Not a bad proposition.
The direct heir of the North Sea Ice Palace showing goodwill was welcome.
'He revealed his status as the lord's son, even his position—must have something specific in mind.'
North Sea Ice Palace goods were rare and precious in the Central Plains, hard to come by otherwise.
'Especially those spirit lands that greatly boost inner power. A must-visit someday.'
The answer was clear.
I chuckled and turned to Professor Han Young, who was overseeing as judge.
"Professor, the guest from North Sea Ice Palace wants to take this board as a memento."
The outer region powers were valued guests who traveled far.
Han Young pondered briefly, then nodded.
She called over a graduate student assistant to fetch a new board.
Thus ended the semifinal.
After a short break, the finals arrived.
Zhuge Seolji's prediction proved right.
My finals opponent was Zhuge Seolji.
Seated across from me, she seemed deeply contemplative before the match began.
Then, with a flushed face, she asked.
"...C-Can I have a handicap stone?"
Listen to this.
She said either of us winning would be fine, but she wants to win, doesn't she?
"Think you can?"
"......"
I shook my head firmly.
And Zhuge Seolji drank the bitter cup of defeat.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Having defeated Zhuge Seolji to claim victory in Go, I moved straight to the cuju prelims.
Per Grand Tournament rules.
One person could enter up to three events.
"Azure Bamboo Pavilion! Step forward for the draw!"
Go and unarmed combat were fixed for me; for the third, I chose cuju as the one with highest win odds at the time.
"...S-Sorry."
Athletics Director Go Wansan, who went for the draw, pulled Shaolin in the first round.
But it was winnable.
Shaolin's top experts weren't entering cuju.
"Junior monks! Show the Ghost Dragon a thousand years of Shaolin cuju prowess!"
Shaolin monks rarely ventured out, it seemed.
They weren't doing multiple events.
Thus, the trio to watch—Woncheol, Gaksan, Gaksim—sat in the stands cheering.
To prevent injuries, cuju prelims were only first halves.
To exploit that fully, I spoke up.
"Hey, monks."
"?"
"You know cuju under Murim Alliance rules doesn't require scoring to win?"
"Benefactor. We're familiar with the rules. If no players remain to hold the pole, that's defeat, right? Is that what you're getting at?"
"You know."
"Hoho. Provoking us, eh? We regretted not drawing into the mixed formation group. This is what we wanted too."
Shaolin monks, raised staring at walls on Mount Song, had some naivety.
Falling for my silver tongue, they deployed Nahan Formation—not chasing the ball, but the players.
Whoosh! Whoooosh!!!
Nahan Formation.
One of Shaolin's famed supreme techniques, never defeated when properly executed.
'But that's when it's at least 108 or up to 500 ganging up.'
With fewer numbers, it was vulnerable even to the five-man base Chajak Formation.
Leveraging that, we focused on blocking Nahan's assaults.
"Go-senior! Wu Su-rung!"
"!"
"!"
In the decisive moment.
I unleashed as pole holder the Heaven-Splitting Academic Dance technique my master recalled from facing Shaolin's Nahan, clearing a path.
Snap! Crack!!! Snap!!!!!!!
As our three broke free and surged ahead, the monks realized too late and chased.
"Where to!"
"Monk, where are you going?"
While Eun Ha-seong and Jeong Hyeon bought time.
Snap!!!!
The central cuju ball, struck by my pole swing, landed at Go Wansan's feet far ahead.
Thud!
Senior Go Wansan promptly chipped it up to me.
The flying ball glanced off Wu Su-rung's forehead for the score.
Ding!!!
The bell signaling the end rang immediately.
I grinned at the dazed monks.
"Didn't know how to score in cuju?"