Chapter 236
Chapter 236
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 236
Chapter Title: First Time? (1)
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As soon as Monk Gakwon admitted defeat and stepped down from the sparring arena, the spectators erupted from all directions.
"Jeong-hyeon of Azure Bamboo Pavilion defeated Gakwon!"
"Wait, isn't this the first time a Shaolin disciple has lost in this event?"
"They forfeited in the previous round, but that was to manage stamina... If we exclude that, yeah, it is."
"What incredible swordsmanship. To overpower those fierce staff strikes with that flowing sword... Even a layman like me can feel what Wudang sword means."
"Exactly. Won't Jeong-hyeon become the next Sword Dragon?"
I smirked at the chatter pouring in from all sides.
It was only natural.
The title of Sword Dragon was one that the original Jeong-hyeon had earned.
'The situation is quite coincidental.'
Arms crossed, I stared at Gaksim emerging from the Shaolin participants' waiting area.
'Gaksim.'
Gaksim was a sword monk who wielded the blade as his main weapon.
In the original story, Jeong-hyeon earned the moniker Sword Dragon by defeating this very Gaksim.
Of course, that had happened around the end of the second semester of the protagonist's second year.
Arms still crossed, I posed a question to my master.
'Jeong-hyeon versus Gaksim. What do you think, Master?'
- Hmm. Their auras feel similar? A young monk devoted to training in the mountain temple versus Jeong-hyeon, who's been following you. The answer lies in the time each has invested.
At my master's words,
I briefly reflected on the time spent with Jeong-hyeon.
Physically, he must be far sturdier than in the original.
I'd trained him systematically and fed him everything he needed.
I hadn't deprived him of anything he deserved.
'If I had to nitpick, maybe that one Heavenly Poison Pill?'
But that was something he only took during winter break of his first year, and in return, I'd given him the White Poison Pill earlier than in the original.
No matter how I looked at it, his physical condition was better than the original Jeong-hyeon at this point.
'But he hasn't gone through the psychological pain or anguish he would have originally.'
A warrior's growth comes from the harmony of mind, technique, and body.
Just as soil hardens after rain and iron strengthens through hammering.
It suddenly occurred to me that his mental foundation might be a bit lacking.
'Sigh. Looking back, it feels like I raised him like a potted flower...'
At my words, my master let out a hollow laugh.
- ...Who's saying what about whom? You, Yong-un, about Jeong-hyeon? Did I hear that wrong?
'No, I meant it about Jeong-hyeon.'
- ...What great figure in the world raises a potted flower by rolling it around roughly and feeding it deadly poison? No such person exists, nor would any flower survive that. Not even a single blade of grass.
Pretending not to hear my master's words, I shifted my gaze back to Gaksim.
Then my master commented on Gaksim as well.
- A sword monk, eh.
'Not common, right?'
Shaolin's warrior monks mainly focused on fist or staff techniques.
Thus, a warrior monk like Gaksim who used a sword was rare.
- It's uncommon to see a monk swinging a sword. But that doesn't mean he's weak. ...The saying 'All the world's martial arts come from Shaolin' isn't empty words.
Shaolin had firmly rooted itself in the martial world.
Their martial arts could rival the best in the world, no matter which of the eighteen weapons one chose.
The sum of them was Shaolin's famed Seventy-Two Ultimate Arts.
'Countless prodigies from across the land knock on Shaolin's gates to master those supreme techniques.'
And after rigorously selecting from those prodigies, only three remained.
Gaksim was one who had chosen the sword and survived.
As my master said, he couldn't be anything less than exceptional.
"Please come forward."
"Yes. Then this monk shall not hesitate."
It became evident right from the start of their match.
Ssssh!
His well-trained muscles bulged with veins across his body.
Pure inner energy accumulated through meditation, ascetic meals, and the spirit elixirs permitted by Shaolin added a golden glow enveloping his entire form.
Gaksim led with his sword wreathed in golden light, beginning to crush the taiji diagram drawn by Jeong-hyeon.
Clang! Clang!!!
Chaaang!!!!!
Jeong-hyeon's hands grew busy blocking it.
- That's the Dharma Thirteen Swords. One of the supreme techniques Shaolin calls part of the Seventy-Two Ultimate Arts.
There was no bias in the sword Gaksim wielded.
When change was needed, it flowed like the multiplying hands of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva.
Ssssh!
Clang! Claaang!!!
When speed was required, it discarded such flourishes for straightforward thrusts that accelerated fiercely.
Sweeeek!!!
With a smile of pure joy on his face, Gaksim tangled swords chaotically with Jeong-hyeon.
Gazing at that face immersed in the martial way, I thought,
'These kids are pure-hearted.'
Gakwon had cleanly admitted defeat earlier.
And Gaksim showed no obsession with revenge from his prior loss; he was simply enjoying the match itself.
'These guys are just sincere about martial arts.'
And their sincerity matched their skill.
If only they weren't so naive about the world, they'd hold their own anywhere.
'Even Abbot Gonghyo isn't arrogant; it's just his philosophy.'
The battles ahead would vary wildly in difficulty depending on whether Shaolin lent a hand or sat on the sidelines.
'I hope the Righteous Assembly changes Shaolin's attitude a bit.'
Chaaang!!!!!!!!
It was then, as I pondered that,
After dozens of exchanges, Gaksim created distance and briefly pressed his left thumb and index finger together in the Dharma Wheel Mudra, a common statue pose.
Snap.
A majestic aura began coiling around Gaksim's sword.
Ssssh!!!
Watching that, my master remarked,
- Benevolent King Drives Back the Hordes. He must think he needs overwhelming power to break Jeong-hyeon's sword momentum.
'Yes.'
In an instant, his sword, fully wrapped in golden light, transformed into the massive blade wielded by one of the Four Heavenly Kings guarding a temple.
The reborn heavy sword was swung without hesitation.
Sweeeeeek!!!
Of course, Jeong-hyeon didn't stand idle.
Sweek! Sweeek!
Sweeeeek!!
The large and small semicircles he drew connected into a massive taiji.
Shaolin's sword, which had chosen hardness to overpower softness, clashed fiercely with the taiji sword that spun to deflect even that.
Kwaaaang!!!!!!!!
At the clash of 'hardness that severs softness' and 'softness that controls hardness'.
"Haa. Haa... Huuuu."
Jeong-hyeon stood at the end.
His dazed eyes heaving for breath steadied,
Then he returned to his starting position and assumed the ready stance.
'That dazed look... like he's had an enlightenment. What if Jeong-hyeon wins them all without me stepping in?'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Jeong-hyeon had just achieved back-to-back victories over Gakwon and Gaksim.
His inner energy was nearly depleted, and his body had been soaked in sweat for ages.
Normally, he shouldn't even be able to twitch a finger.
Yet Jeong-hyeon swung his sword at Woncheol, who advanced with golden light coiling around his fists.
Sweek!
Sweeek!
This wasn't mere bravado.
Even in a state where collapsing exhausted would be normal, his body strangely brimmed with vigor.
Sweeeeek!!
His concentration, which slowed time itself, remained sharp.
Kaang! Kaang!
Kakakaang!!!!
In his trance-like sword swings, Jeong-hyeon recalled how this was possible.
'...I'm angry.'
Yesterday, the Convergence Formation. Today, Yin Xia Lian.
Seeing his Azure Bamboo Pavilion comrades sprawled defeated by Shaolin filled him with rage.
Even Shaolin's abbot visiting Eon Yong-un mid-tournament irked him.
'I wanted to help Young Master Eon.'
Eon Yong-un had accepted him, deemed a disgrace by his own sect, without prejudice and guided him.
He'd vowed to support such a man.
But in truth, Jeong-hyeon felt he'd never been of much help.
So he wanted to be useful here, at least.
'No, I had to be.'
Azure Bamboo Pavilion had left the semifinals to Eon Yong-un alone.
Fragrant Orchid Pavilion wasn't easy.
Mae Jinak at full power and Namgung Yun had stimulated him as a swordsman.
Facing Shaolin next in this situation—if he backed down powerlessly, Eon Yong-un's personality would surely push him to overexert.
'The old me would have seen this as straying from the Way.'
Impure thoughts, weakness, attachment—all to be shaken off.
But now, he didn't want to discard them.
'I realized watching Young Master Eon.'
The aspiration to grow stronger, the will to win.
If thought of as walking the Way together, not alone, they led to the true Way.
'They aren't mere weakness or attachment.'
Thus, he wanted to defeat Woncheol before him.
A towering wall, but he'd do what he could to win.
First, Jeong-hyeon assessed his own condition.
'Feels vigorous, but objectively, I'm exhausted.'
Woncheol was a fist fighter.
Unlike with Gakwon or Gaksim, he held the range advantage.
No unnecessary movements.
'If I keep my center solid, even crude swordplay can block precisely.'
Sweek!
How long had he continued those small, crude semicircles?
Hummm—
At some point,
The murmuring crowd fell utterly silent.
As if only he and Woncheol existed in the world.
"!"
Jeong-hyeon felt the mental barrier that had shackled him crumble.
In his hazy senses, a deep, profound aura gathered on his sword.
Wuuung!
Taking that aura reminiscent of the Big Dipper as ink, Jeong-hyeon drew a rich taiji embodying both softness and hardness.
Quaaaeek!!!!!!
But the swung sword was blocked by Woncheol's golden-wreathed forearm.
Boom!!!!
His concentration shattered simultaneously, vision clearing sharply.
At that moment, Woncheol grinned and spoke.
"Congratulations, layman. You've crossed the wall."
"?!"
Immediately, Woncheol's palm strike poured into Jeong-hyeon's abdomen.
Boom!!!!!
Without chance to react, Jeong-hyeon was flung from the arena, thinking,
'Was I Sun Wukong on Buddha's palm...'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Catching Jeong-hyeon as he lost consciousness and flew from the arena, I thought,
'Even the protagonist's power wasn't enough for three straight wins?'
Glancing at his pulse and internals,
No major injuries.
He'd simply hit the limit of inner energy and mental fortitude, taken a hit, and passed out.
I handed Jeong-hyeon to the medical attendants and stepped onto the arena where Woncheol waited.
First, I cupped my fists in greeting.
"Thank you."
Woncheol returned the greeting with a cupped fist and grinned.
"For going easy in the exchange? Jeong-hyeon Daoist was clearly exhausted—how could I not show some mercy? You're thanking me for the obvious..."
"Not that."
"Not that?"
"Before that, when Jeong-hyeon had his moment of enlightenment, you guided him, Monk Woncheol."
"Ah, that too is what any righteous martial artist of the White Path must do. Plus, I'd like to clash with him again later."
"Sounds like the latter is more sincere."
"Call it half and half. This monk does enjoy fighting, but the Buddha's teachings are precious too."
I smirked at Woncheol's words and drew Regret.
"Let's begin."
As if waiting, the surrounding air seemed sucked toward Woncheol,
Then,
Sweeeeeek!!!!!
A golden light in fist form burst from his eyes.
- Hundred Paces Divine Fist!
Shaolin's supreme art said to shatter boulders a hundred paces away with fist force.
I thrust my left palm without delay, unleashing the Anti-Dragon Palm.
Kwaaaang!!!!!
The golden fist from Woncheol's hand collided with the dark dragon from mine, ripping through the air with explosive sound.
As the scattered dust cleared, Woncheol grinned.
"Anti-Dragon Remnant Will! As expected of the Fierce Dragon! Just as Master said, the world is full of prodigies!"
...Crazy bastard.
He seemed thrilled to meet a worthy opponent.
"Likewise."
But I was the same.
"You're the first besides Demonic Cult guys where I don't have to hold back."?