Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: First Grade Warrior 3
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Jang Geon of the Hidden Shadow Pavilion intended to end this bout with a single leap and a single thrust. He had retreated to a distance, concealed himself, and was observing Baek Moo-jin.
'I'll show you what it means to know it's coming and still not be able to block it.'
However, as Jang Geon quietly circled behind Baek Moo-jin, the moment he caught sight of the young man's expression, his body froze as if rooted in place, unable to move for a moment.
'He's smiling?'
Jang Geon's footsteps halted involuntarily. If even he found it bizarre, the onlookers could only tilt their heads in greater confusion.
Baek Moo-jin was extending his hand into the empty air.
'What is he trying to do?'
A mix of incredulity and curiosity left Jang Geon staring blankly at Baek Moo-jin's actions. He had supreme confidence in his concealment arts, so Baek Moo-jin's nonchalance felt like outright provocation.
'Fine, I'll humor you for a bit.'
2.
Unfortunate for Jang Geon, but Baek Moo-jin knew numerous ways to shatter concealment.
Still, there was no reason for him to reveal his full arsenal here. He planned to respond just adequately, tailored to his opponent.
'Maybe a little trick will do...'
Baek Moo-jin channeled the White Flower Palm, gathering cold qi in his palm. The chill rapidly condensed, taking on a circular form. Having already mastered projecting internal force outward, this was child's play for him.
The spectators watched his movements in a daze.
A single white flower bloomed from Baek Moo-jin's palm, fluttering briefly before falling to the floor.
The instant the white flower touched down, a circular wave of qi rippled refreshingly across the Yunho Hall's floor.
It was a strange yet beautiful sight.
A cool breeze brushed the faces of the onlookers.
Even Jang Geon, lurking in one corner awaiting his chance, couldn't evade the qi laced with chill.
'What the?'
It was just a cold gust, carrying no impact. Though it seemed trivial, Jang Geon panicked inwardly and swiftly circled behind Baek Moo-jin again.
'What pointless technique.'
At that moment, the onlookers, who had unconsciously fixed their gaze on the floor, gasped in surprise. Someone even let out an exclamation.
"Huh?"
No human form was visible, but faint footprints—traces of Jang Geon's movements—lingered on the floor.
The crowd instantly grasped Baek Moo-jin's intent.
'Ah, frost has settled all over the floor. Concealment's useless now.'
Yet some still couldn't comprehend the scene before their eyes. It was simply because these techniques diverged so sharply from Central Plains martial arts.
Even Jang Geon, mid-movement, startled upon seeing his own footprints etched on the ground.
'A master of ice arts, huh. Damn those Execution Hall bastards! Why didn't they warn me?'
Concealment had become pointless.
Of course, the Execution Hall warriors had no reason to inform him. Baek Moo-jin hadn't even known who his opponent was, so why would they tip off Jang Geon about his signature style?
Shaking off his thoughts, Jang Geon reacted swiftly. Even hidden, Baek Moo-jin's gaze pierced toward him like a ghost's.
'Damn it!'
With one explosive leap, Jang Geon closed the distance.
By the time the spectators spotted him, his straight sword was already silently aimed at Baek Moo-jin's chest.
Jang Geon aimed to inflict serious injury. Who cares if you know? Rest up for a while. It was a strike so swift and chilling it sent shivers through the onlookers' hearts.
As the straight sword thrust toward his chest, Baek Moo-jin raised his thumb and index finger, halting the incoming blade.
Crack! Tsk tsk tsk...
White frost spread from Baek Moo-jin's fingers along the blade. Startled, Jang Geon twisted and yanked it free, then—forgetting this was a spar—swept it in a wide arc toward Baek Moo-jin's neck.
Whoosh!
Tension had made a killing blow slip out unwittingly. Baek Moo-jin leaned back just in time to evade, prompting Jang Geon to unleash a flurry of thrusts with wind-whistling speed.
Swift swordplay.
Precise, fluid motions flowed without tremor, yet the sounds from Jang Geon's body remained whisper-quiet.
Baek Moo-jin arched his upper body back, retreating step by step to dodge.
Swish swish!
Unexpectedly, Jang Geon's foot slipped on the floor mid-attack, losing balance. The white flower had coated it in frost, making it slicker than usual.
Had Baek Moo-jin calculated even this when scattering the White Flower Palm's chill across the ground?
Neither the spectators nor Jang Geon could tell.
But that fleeting disruption sapped Jang Geon's momentum, and Baek Moo-jin's counter began.
As if returning the swift swordplay in kind, Baek Moo-jin's right fist shot out in eerily similar motions. He held his hand blade-up like a straight sword, striking at Jang Geon.
Yet the movements mirrored Jang Geon's restrained strikes perfectly.
As Jang Geon swung fiercely to sever Baek Moo-jin's hand while retreating, a grinding crunch emanated from Baek Moo-jin's left grip.
Baek Moo-jin's scabbard clashed with Jang Geon's straight sword.
For the first time in Yunho Hall, a sharp clang! of metal rang out. In that instant, Jang Geon's face twisted beneath his mask. His entire right hand and the sword trembled violently.
Finally, Jang Geon lightly stomped his left foot and leaped back, vanishing once more.
The spectators erupted in admiring gasps at his quick recovery.
"Whoa..."
"Whew..."
Muffled exclamations rippled through the hall, but this time, no one shushed them.
It was a feast for the eyes.
They marveled at Baek Moo-jin's composure and bizarre arts, awed by Jang Geon's agility and chilling precision.
When onlookers glanced at each other, awkward half-smiles frozen on their faces.
3.
Jang Geon retreated to a distance, steadying his breath.
In that last exchange, he had unleashed attacks holding his breath almost entirely—yet gained nothing, with no end in sight. He needed time not just to regroup mentally, but to catch his breath; concealment for another chance wasn't the goal.
Above all, the shock stemmed from Baek Moo-jin's internal energy, bizarrely potent. A single clash left his sword-grip aching as if torn.
Jang Geon ground his teeth, a faint grinding sound escaping his mouth.
'Concealment's no use.'
Judging so, he revealed himself and approached Baek Moo-jin slowly.
Halting at a suitable range, he spoke for the first time, his tone promising incomparable danger compared to before.
"I'd like to see your sword."
His voice was icy. With those words, he lowered his straight sword to the lower right quadrant, ready to strike regardless of whether Baek Moo-jin drew.
The technique Jang Geon prepared was One Blade Shadow Shred.
One Blade Shadow Shred was reserved for dire moments or assassinations—a strike to cleave the target from head to toe with a single sword qi slash.
Baek Moo-jin read the resolve in Jang Geon's eyes, sensing the killing intent of his ultimate technique. Nodding to the request, he nudged his sword hilt with his thumb, revealing a glimpse of the pristine blade.
In that instant, an inexplicably clear ring emanated from Baek Moo-jin's sword.
Then, in a calm tone, he addressed Jang Geon.
"Come."
The words carried a nobility beyond a young warrior's years, yet no onlooker found them awkward. They had already recognized Baek Moo-jin as a force unto himself.
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