I'll Take You All On
Son Yang was a warrior before he was a master. As a rule, a martial artist did not let an opponent's taunts shake his fighting spirit. But there were exceptions — namely, when the taunt was so nauseating it turned the stomach. At Mo Soo-mi's words, Son Yang, standing across the platform, nearly toppled over backward.
Even Wang Maeng, who had just returned from delivering a vomit-inducing provocation of his own, was left slack-jawed, muttering inwardly.
Incredible. Just incredible.
The others went without saying. Deung Chung and the rest of the Cheonbong Army had all frozen solid as stone. What was wrong with Cheonun Sect today? How could every last one of them be this shameless?
What they failed to realize was that the two hundred disciples standing before them had, after the Ascent Battle on Taibai Peak, undergone special training under Maeng Chang-haeng — and in doing so, had opened the door to an entirely new way of life.
Through decades of hard-won experience, Maeng Chang-haeng had taught these children a simple truth: sometimes a fist was not the only answer to defeating an enemy. Psychological warfare could drive a man to his grave just as surely — and the methods of that warfare were, to put it mildly, extremely disgusting.
When Wang Maeng had earlier called for them to fight to the death, every Cheonun disciple's blood had boiled with fighting spirit. But Yeop Pung had gathered them all together and uttered a single sentence.
Crush them — by any underhanded means necessary.
That was it. Yeop Pung had offered only this overarching directive. How, precisely, they were to fight dirty was left entirely to each individual's talents.
In truth, Yeop Pung found himself marveling at the potential of his comrades after Maeng Chang-haeng's tutelage. That Cheonun Sect's once-upstanding prodigies could become this warped… they were well and truly a lost cause.
Deung Chung and Son Yang felt every hair on their bodies stand on end at Mo Soo-mi's single remark; their stomachs churned, threatening to heave. But then — the very next instant — Mo Soo-mi, who had been wearing a bashful expression, suddenly charged at Son Yang.
"What's going through that little head of yours, sweetie? I was saying today was the day my auntie was coming to Mount Tianyun to visit me. Now take this!"
Whoosh! Mo Soo-mi's kick split the air. The sparring platform was not particularly large to begin with, and at a Four Meridians Realm cultivator's full sprint, he closed the distance in a heartbeat, arriving right under Son Yang's nose.
Son Yang had no time to gather his energy. He hastily condensed Profound Qi into his arms and blocked Mo Soo-mi's leg. A dull thud rang out. Son Yang staggered three steps backward. Mo Soo-mi, meanwhile, spun lightly once in midair and landed daintily on the platform.
"You little sissy — prepare to die!"
Son Yang collected himself, gathering the Profound Qi throughout his body, and prepared to press the attack. Then, from across the platform, a sudden moan.
"Aigoo, it hurts, it hurts! I think my leg's broken!"
Thud! Without the slightest hesitation, Mo Soo-mi flopped onto the floor and began rolling around, clutching his own leg.
"You…!"
Son Yang felt as though he might cough up blood. Don't tell me that little sissy just rammed into me so he could shamelessly playact afterward?
"Aigoo, it hurts so much. Someone help me!"
The instant Mo Soo-mi cried out, a swarm of acting virtuosos burst forth from the crowd.
"Senior Brother Mo, are you all right?"
"Come here, Senior Brother Mo. Let me examine that leg. This is bad — it looks like the bone's cracked!"
"Hmph. Well done, Cheonbong Army. We lose!"
Thump, thump, thump. The pack hoisted Mo Soo-mi as if loading him onto a stretcher and swarmed down off the platform. Son Yang was left standing alone on the sparring stage, staring blankly. He felt like crying.
"Commandant!"
Son Yang turned his head toward Deung Chung. An unnameable sense of grievance welled up in him — a fury at having been toyed with by the Cheonun disciples.
"Don't you call me!"
Down below, Deung Chung would rather have cried himself. His head was already about to explode.
There were not many clever men in this world, and Deung Chung was not the type who survived by using his head. Wang Maeng and Mo Soo-mi's antics had already blown the lid clean off his temper; he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Could every last one of those damned Cheonun Sect disciples really be this despicable?
"Yo Yeong-chun! Get up here this instant!"
After glaring at the crowd for a long while, he picked out the one who looked the stupidest — Yo Yeong-chun — and hauled him up onto the platform. That idiot surely couldn't pull off anything that underhanded… right?
Unfortunately, Deung Chung was wrong. Yo Yeong-chun was, indeed, not the brightest. But dim-witted fellows often thought in far more extreme ways.
The two took their positions on the platform. This time, it was Yo Yeong-chun, not the Cheonbong warrior, who launched the first attack.
"I'm gonna smash every last one of you!"
Rumble— Yo Yeong-chun charged at his opponent like a berserk war chariot.
What's this? Is that guy actually an idiot? Perfect!
Deung Chung and the Cheonbong warrior on the platform both rejoiced inwardly.
BOOM!
But before the Cheonbong warrior could even take a step, Yo Yeong-chun had already slammed headfirst into the floor. The hard stone cracked, and blood geysered from his skull. What… what just happened? Everyone was bewildered.
"Ugh…"
Yo Yeong-chun pressed one hand to his still-bleeding forehead and pointed at the Cheonbong warrior across from him with the other, speaking in a dazed voice.
"Uh, why are you over there? Did my Iron Head Skill m-miss?"
Iron Head Skill, my ass! The entire Cheonbong Army was on the verge of collapse. Why was it so hard to just fight properly and win?
A considerable amount of time had already passed, and the Cheonbong Army had yet to properly defeat even a single Cheonun disciple. If anything, they were the ones being toyed with. Yo Yeong-chun, too, was carried down. He had injured himself the most severely — and in doing so, had screwed over his opponent the most thoroughly.
From that point on, the situation spiraled completely out of control. The members of Cheonun Sect's 1st Unit unleashed their talents and ingenuity to the fullest. Or perhaps they themselves had yet to realize it: though their martial aptitude might be ordinary, when it came to driving people up the wall, they had already reached a realm unmatched by anyone — save Yeop Pung himself.
What followed from the unit members was nothing short of extraordinary. One fellow claimed a sudden bout of diarrhea before even mounting the platform and locked himself in the latrine for a full hour, refusing to come out. Another climbed onto the stage only to collapse in a sudden epileptic fit, foam bubbling from his mouth — from where, no one could say.
The most spectacular of all was the tenth unit member. Before entering Cheonun Sect, he claimed, he had learned a spirit-summoning art from some Daoist in Fengsang Commandery. The moment he stepped onto the platform, his eyes rolled back in his head and he summoned the soul of the opposing Cheonbong warrior's grandfather. Then he bellowed:
"You little brat — get on your knees before your granddaddy this instant!"
What the hell?! Yeop Pung could not hold back his laughter. He had no idea his comrades were this… versatile.
But as these shameless tactics continued, Yeop Pung could feel the Cheonbong Army's patience reaching its breaking point. At last, after the "spirit medium" comrade had been carried off, Deung Chung erupted in a roar of uncontainable fury.
"That's enough, all of you!"
With a bang, Deung Chung leapt onto the platform as if spitting fire. He jabbed a finger at Beom Undae and unleashed a torrent of abuse.
"Beom Undae — these are your Cheonun Sect disciples? These are the warriors who'll carry the future of the Cheonun Army? They're nothing but piles of shit! Piles of shit!"
Beom Undae hurriedly dropped to his knees.
"Please, Commandant, sir — calm yourself!"
But only Beom Undae himself knew what he had truly been feeling a moment ago. Honestly speaking, he had been immensely, secretly delighted.
"Calm myself, my ass!"
Deung Chung's body trembled as he jabbed a finger at the Cheonun Sect disciples watching him with cold eyes.
"These mongrels thought they could play me? Fine — I'll kill every last one of you! Whoever's next, I don't care what excuse you come up with — if you dodge the fight again, you'll be punished under military law with a hundred strokes of the cane!"
A hundred strokes of the cane? That was a punishment that could kill a man. The remaining Cheonun Sect disciples' faces went pale as one. The Cheonbong Army had now discarded even their last shred of face, and were preparing to openly torment and trample them.
It was then that Yeop Pung slowly stepped forward.
"That's enough, Commandant."
"Yeop Pung — you think this is your place to speak?!"
Deung Chung bared his teeth in a snarl.
"Talking to a superior like that — I could throw you in a cell right now and you'd have nothing to say for yourself!"
"You look like you're itching for revenge."
Yeop Pung locked cold eyes on Deung Chung and climbed the platform one step at a time.
"No need to go to all that trouble. I'm the one who took the Autumn Hunt championship. I'm the one who injured Sa Cheonseong. If you want revenge, Yeop Pung alone is more than enough."
Yeop Pung stood tall upon the platform, like a pillar holding up the heavens, shielding everyone behind him. Then, with killing intent in his gaze, he swept a cold look across Deung Chung and every Cheonbong warrior present. He raised his index finger with arrogant ease and crooked it at them.
His words rang through the sky like a thunderclap.
"What did you say?"
Deung Chung's lips trembled.
"Yeop Pung — what the hell are you talking about?"
"This live combat drill today — I'll take all of it. Yeop Pung, one man. Come at me, all of you."
Rustle. As he spoke, Yeop Pung unfastened the buttons of his white disciple's robes. His powerfully built chest was laid bare.
"Yeop Pung, you're far too arrogant. You know weapons aren't allowed during training!"
"I don't need anything like that to deal with the likes of you."
Yeop Pung folded his disciple's robes neatly and handed them to Wang Maeng, who stood beside him. Wang Maeng and the others had already gathered around Yeop Pung some time ago.
"Might get a bit of blood on it, so keep it safe. I just had it washed."
"Yeop Pung…"
Wang Maeng was briefly at a loss for words. Damn it! Yeop Pung looks incredible right now. But taking on dozens of Cheonbong warriors by himself is insane.
Then Deung Chung and the Cheonbong warriors behind him exploded with rage. Things had gone this far — Yeop Pung had nowhere left to retreat. And the Cheonbong men finally had a place to vent every scrap of fury they had accumulated.
"Jo Bi! Take that bastard down!"
At Deung Chung's tremendous shout, Jo Bi — the expert who had fought in the first match — launched himself at Yeop Pung.
Jo Bi was a Five Meridians Realm expert, a fighter of sufficient caliber to overwhelm Beom Undae. The wood-attribute profound energy erupting from his entire body transformed into razor-sharp wind blades that crashed down upon Yeop Pung. Like an unending tide, the force of it was truly formidable.
"Know your place, you arrogant bastard! Die!"
With Jo Bi's enraged cry, a terrifying gale swallowed the sky. It was a fearsome assault, thick with the aura of death.
But the next instant, a thunderclap roared as if lightning had struck. Golden thunder-light flooded the battlefield. The force of it was like a thousand horses stampeding. From within that overwhelming heavenly thunder, a single majestic palm smashed into Jo Bi's chest.
A palm of golden thunder, crashing down with the force of a thousand stampeding horses.
THWACK! It was a single strike. Jo Bi vomited blood, flew a hundred and fifty feet, and blacked out on the spot.
In an instant, silence blanketed the training ground. Only Yeop Pung remained standing, his presence commanding. He looked like a sovereign who ruled the world.
"Next!"