Chapter 93
Chapter 93
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Why Are Your Eyes So Wide Open?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
As the sword energy wrapped around Regret began to ripple fiercely...
The guy named Mu Gil clearly flinched.
"Hmph. So what if you've got a ton of internal energy? That doesn't make your sword sharp. A reject from the Pearl Eon Family who's scraped together some half-assed swordsmanship can't possibly beat the sword of our Mosan Sect, one of the Nine Great Sects."
But then, as if hypnotizing himself, he muttered a few words and drew the sword from his waist.
Shing—
I was about to say something to him, but on second thought, there was no point.
The mistakes and misjudgments this Mu Gil punk was making were so numerous that arguing would've just hurt my mouth.
'I wonder what face he'll make when he realizes he's not flying high—he's actually on the verge of crashing.'
Instead of playing along with his taunts and self-delusion, I focused on his sword.
'A blue blade engraved with the Big Dipper.'
- That's the Seven Star Sword.
Wudang and Huashan bestow the Pine Pattern Sword and Plum Blossom Sword on their mountain disciples or secular disciples who've reached a certain level, and the Beggars' Sect grants knots. In the same way, the Mosan Sect awards its disciples the Seven Star Sword.
- But the Seven Star Sword I saw back in my day wasn't that bright blue. It was dark like the uniform of that Fragrant Orchid Hall punk. Is my memory faulty...?
'No, you're right, Master. Back then, the Mosan Sect was weak, so everyone used those dark ones.'
The dark swords Master mentioned still existed.
They were Seven Star Swords forged from black iron during years, months, or hours with strong yang energy, aligned with the Four Tigers or Four Dragons.
'These days, with the Mosan Sect firmly holding its place among the Nine Great Sects and disciples multiplying, only the elites called Upper Pure Sword Elites use them.'
So while Huashan disciples are ranked by scabbard designs and the number of plum blossoms on their swords, and Beggars' Sect by knot count, the Mosan Sect roughly distinguishes ranks by sword color.
'If that sword at Mu Gil's waist had been dark, I might've had to go all out.'
But now, controlling my power was the key.
'This is a sparring match during class, not a hunt or life-or-death duel.'
Reminded once more by Master's note on the Seven Star Sword's color, I compressed the overly rippling sword energy.
Did this action cause yet another misjudgment in Mu Gil?
"See?! All show and no substance! Just puffing up like a blowfish?!"
Sword energy soon coiled around his Seven Star Sword.
The engraved Big Dipper began to glow intensely.
Taking that as his cue, Mu Gil unleashed a sword stance and started circling me horizontally.
"You fake! Time to show you what for!"
As he infused his sword with energy and spun around...
Suddenly, the air filled with the scent of peach blossoms from all directions.
Shh-shk— shk— shh-shk— shk—
In an instant, like splitting apart, Mu Gil multiplied into dozens—an optical illusion.
And all those duplicates thrust their swords at me simultaneously.
Swaeek! Swaeek!! Swaaaak!!!
Dozens of Mu Gils and hundreds of sword energies charged at me all at once.
- Peach Blossom Scatter.
Master, who'd resolved to hold back his concern, couldn't help transmitting his thoughts.
- Unlike Huashan's sword, where the sword is central and you must counter every strand of energy, Mosan's sword centers on the illusion. All but one are fakes.
From the watching classmates in the training hall, gasps of "Gasp!" echoed as they swallowed hard.
'I get it.'
Master's lingering concern after seeing Mosan swordplay after so long, and the classmates' shock at seeing it for the first time—both were natural reactions.
But...
My lips were already curled up to my ears.
I had no choice.
'The real one stands out clear as day from the fakes.'
The illusionary fakes looked translucent, instantly revealing them as phantoms.
'Knew it...'
As suspected, my Mental Immunity trait worked even against the illusion-focused Mosan Sect swordsmanship.
'Found you.'
I didn't bother hiding my rising smirk and raised Heaven-Splitting Sword toward the one solid Mu Gil among the horde lunging at me.
Swaaaak!
My thrust pierced straight in without the usual counters for this type of swordplay to minimize options.
Mu Gil clearly panicked upon seeing it.
"?!"
But he wasn't some sloppy swinger—he hastily withdrew his offense to parry my blade.
Clang—
But that was exactly what I'd baited.
The moment Regret clashed with his Seven Star Sword, I subtly twisted my wrist to align our blades flat and poured in internal energy.
Not a Heaven-Splitting Ten Swords form, but the basic "Bind" technique from Master's foundational lessons.
"!"
Mu Gil's eyes widened, locked in place.
Whatever.
I kept pouring in energy.
Then Regret, resonating with Master's spirit, arced upward like stretching toward the sky.
"All that yapping, and your trap shut like this sword?"
"...Kuh!"
With the blades bound, Mu Gil's arm followed mine in the arc.
"...Grrraaah!!!"
"Heh. Don't resist. Don't. Even if you struggle all day, it's beyond your skill."
Mu Gil's balance fully tilted left.
Crack!
I stomped hard on his fully exposed right ankle.
"Guhk!"
The rule was knee to ground meant defeat.
This was checkmate.
Yet Mu Gil refused to accept, whether the outcome or the humiliation—glaring at me with bulging eyes.
He hadn't withdrawn his energy from the Seven Star Sword either.
Hah. Look at this guy?
"Why are your eyes so wide open?"
I decided to administer the historic medicine passed down through tears.
Thwack!
Thwack!
"Why are your eyes popped out like that?!"
As my fists repeatedly slammed into Mu Gil's face...
"Stop! Stop!!"
Chang Ryang charged in furiously, prying apart the distance between me and the sprawled Mu Gil, then bellowed at me.
"The match ended the instant Mu Gil of Fragrant Orchid Hall's knee hit the ground! Why punch afterward? Do you think the Righteous Martial Academy is some brothel or gambling den you roll around in? Are you truly a junior of the orthodox martial world?!"
It sounded reasonable at first glance, but Chang Ryang omitted one crucial fact.
And his attitude reeked of "gotcha."
I swallowed a scoff, furrowed my brows in mock grievance, and spoke.
"I understand if you're biased toward Mu Gil since he's from the dorm you oversee, Professor!"
"W-what?!"
I turned, cupped my fists toward the professors watching from afar, and continued.
"But I'm not the one refusing the result. The Big Dipper engraving on his Seven Star Sword was glowing with intense sword energy right up until he hit the ground."
A few professors muttered, "I saw it too."
Buoyed by the support, I pressed on.
"That's why I had no choice but to throw a punch. He insulted all of Azure Jade Hall as vermin and belittled the Pearl Eon Family that bore me. Even so, I showed mercy. Please consider that."
As I finished, whispers rippled through the crowd.
Especially from the professors.
One swordswoman in green uniform robes topped with a white overcoat raised her hand with an official concern.
"Mo Yong-rin here. Professor Chang Ryang's rebuke is wise advice for all orthodox juniors regardless of context, but considering the circumstances, pressing further might look like favoritism toward Mu Gil. Please restrain yourself."
Her name revealed her as the Sword Empress who took Yin Xia Lian as disciple.
Sword Empress Mo Yong-rin.
Her inner green uniform marked her as academy faculty, but the plain white overcoat showed she favored no dorm.
Her words thus carried heavy weight here.
"...Tch. Mu Gil loses. Eon Yong-un of Azure Jade Hall, return to your seat. New students on Fragrant Orchid's student council—take this one to the infirmary!"
The first Introduction to Martial Theory class ended.
My fight with Mu Gil had stirred things up, so no more freshmen volunteered opponents afterward.
Remaining matches were drawn by lot.
Many cadets won and lost in the process.
After observing it all, I returned to the student council room with my Eon juniors.
While recording Azure Jade Hall's wins and losses...
I pondered the outcomes of those who'd shone in the original story.
'Excluding Jeong Hyeon and Jegal Seolji, none of the protagonist generation clashed.'
Yong-myeong and Cheon Jang-ho, Pang So-cheon, the Jade Plum Trio.
Pang So-jin of Cloud Nation Hall.
Namgung Yun and Dang Ok-gi of Fragrant Orchid Hall.
They all won handily.
Wu So-reung drew.
I'd predicted he'd just evade till time ran out—and he did.
When he returned, I asked if he'd even tried attacking.
'Said it'd disgrace Big Brother Eon and Azure Jade if he lost.'
Unbelievable.
Yin Xia Lian lost.
But it had meaning.
'Winning or losing right now isn't the point.'
Yin Xia Lian had barely held a sword for a month.
Facing live blades without flinching was praiseworthy enough.
She stuck faithfully to Jade Maiden Sword basics from the Sword Empress and put up a decent fight.
'Her foundation showed, leading to defeat—but she lost well, a good fight.'
Finally, Yin Ha-seong.
'...He won, but fought poorly.'
Overexerted early, struggled needlessly, nearly lost, then flubbed the momentum for a fluke win.
"Ahem-hah! Is this the taste of victory? Even the student council room air feels different."
I rewarded Yin Ha-seong's head with a solid knuckle rap.
Crack!
"Ow! Big Bro?!"
"You brat. Thought you were maturing with that impatience lately, but you botched the fight and now 'taste of victory'? When will you grow up?!"
"What? That's unfair!"
"Unfair how? Weren't you thrilled just to win?"
"No!"
"Then why spout 'victory's taste'? With that sloppy performance!"
"It's 'cause we bet among ourselves while you fought Mu Gil!"
"Bet?"
As Ha-seong and I bantered, Yin Xia Lian spoke up sheepishly.
"With tool prep for Ok-gi research and phys ed kickball gear suddenly piling up, we did a handicap bet."
"On me vs. Mu Gil? Like how many moves to subdue?"
"As expected of Young Master Eon. Guessing without details."
"You guys or Miss Yin wouldn't bet on me losing. Let's see—from blades touching to separating counts as one move, ankle kick two. Two punches? Right?"
"Yes. We counted with eyes wide. Two punches. Four moves total to drop Mu Gil. Ha-seong one, me four, Wu bro five, Jeong Hyeon eight."
"Hm. Handicap means Jeong Hyeon wins, rest lose..."
...Wait.
Hold on.
Something's off.
"Jeong Hyeon bet too?"
"......"
"Good grief, Brother Yong-un. You have no idea how eagerly he counted—one more... just one more..."
"...For real? Miss Yin? So-reung? Ha-seong's serious?"
"Heh. Yeah, pretty much."
"Pfft. Yes, I saw, Big Brother Eon."
"...Jeong Hyeon? They're for real? You're all pranking me, right? Student council head?"
"...Uh, Primordial Heavenly Lord. With tomorrow's first-period class, I just..."
- They say silence is golden, but with you around, Yong-un, Jeong Hyeon's turning into the blackest black sheep.
That guy's silence is golden...
Whatever.
Sorry to the bet winners, but overtime was everyone's fate.
"Winners still gotta pull overtime though."
Hot potatoes need stirring while fresh.
To squeeze the most out.
"Gotta claim damages from Fragrant Orchid Hall."