The All-Seeing Eyes' Doubt
The preliminaries for the Murim Alliance tournament were not held at the alliance's own training grounds, but at the various public arenas scattered throughout Luoyang. Unless privately owned, these arenas within the city were jointly managed by the Murim Alliance and the government, each bearing half the burden. Given their equal stake, the alliance would often rent out the entire facility for major events like this.
On the way to the arena, Namgung Woo had long since reached the realm where he could casually brush off the stares pouring in from every direction. Namgung Sol, however, kept nervously licking her dry lips. She had only burst onto the gangho a few short months ago. Her career in the martial world was even briefer than his. Moreover, those few months had consisted almost entirely of driving away opportunists who swarmed her the moment they heard the Namgung name, hoping there might still be something left to exploit.
After Gak-won intervened, the peace and comfort she gained somehow felt more uncomfortable than the chaos that came before. Namgung Sol's past days had been spent constantly scrutinizing every person who approached her, trying to discern their true intentions. On top of that, this was now the real thing. She had sparred many times, but she had never experienced a true, all-out combat match. Her nervousness doubled.
Yet that tension was directed solely at the fight itself and its outcome. She no longer felt unease toward the people around her. Namgung Sol was no longer alone. Standing beside her now was someone she could trust and follow more than anyone else.
I just need to do well… Just me…
While Namgung Sol steeled her resolve around the five characters that spelled out I must win, Namgung Woo's expectations of her were not particularly high. His standards had risen too far to place great hopes on her. Even within the Changcheon Squad, the weakest member—Yang Jeong—was a Peak Realm expert. The seemingly delicate Jegal Seon-a possessed similar skill. By comparison, Namgung Sol had not yet reached the Peak Realm. She did not even meet the basic requirements to be called a rising star of the younger generation.
In terms of internal energy volume alone, she could have entered the Peak Realm, but she had not yet learned how to use that power effectively. In cruder terms, it was like hanging a pearl necklace on a pig. Still, the fact that his expectations were not high did not mean he had neglected her. Aside from the compressed, practical combat lessons he had given her, he had paid considerable attention to her external circumstances as well.
"The sector where you will compete in the preliminaries is the southwest," Namgung Woo said aloud rather than through voice transmission. It was a small consideration for Namgung Sol, who had not yet reached the Peak Realm and could not use such techniques. At the same time, he did not allow others to eavesdrop on their conversation. He emitted a faint wave of energy that disturbed the sound waves around the group, blocking external noise from entering and preventing their voices from leaking out.
The delicate manipulation of true energy that occurred so naturally while he spoke made it clear that Namgung Woo's control over his inner power had reached a level as instinctive as moving his own hands and feet. Namgung Sol, however, had no time to admire such mastery. He had told her to focus solely on improving her skills and think of nothing else, so this was the first time she was hearing about the location of her match.
At the sudden announcement, her eyes widened like a startled rabbit. "The southwest? Isn't the closest sector the southeast or due east?"
The mention of southwest, southeast, and due east was because the preliminaries were divided into eight groups corresponding to the eight cardinal directions. It was a structure naturally aligned with the Murim Alliance's Eight Guardians Unit. This much, Namgung Sol already knew. Paeng Ha-ryeong took over the explanation from there.
"If you consider how the preliminaries are run, Sook-mae, it will make sense quickly."
"The format… was that the top two from each of the eight groups advance to the main tournament, right?"
The fact that Yang Kvae, Yang Jeong, and Geumsin were each competing in different sectors was precisely because of this format.
"Correct. That's why situations like this sometimes occur. For example, someone who would only place around third in the due east sector might turn out to be the strongest in the southwest."
This was exactly where information became vital. The main tournament bracket was arranged directly by the Murim Alliance. The preliminary brackets, however, could be chosen by the participants themselves. Rumors about which promising contender had entered which group—the kind of intelligence the Yang brothers had gathered by haunting gambling dens—were precisely what mattered.
Which group was the "group of death"? Which was the weakest? The information war to uncover such things could fairly be called the opening skirmish of the entire martial tournament. The intelligence-gathering among gamblers deciding where to place their bets might seem trivial, but the psychological warfare between sects sending their rising stars was fiercely intense. Prestigious sects often displayed their sense of superiority, boldly declaring things like, "We've entered this sector, so if you have a problem with it, come here and face us." That was the privilege of the top tenth who had grown up eating the best food and learning the best techniques.
Ambitious mid- and small-sized sects hoping to produce even a single Dragon or Phoenix to raise their status and expand their influence had no such luxury. Some went so far as to station watchers at all eight locations from dawn till dusk to monitor every entrant. The sect that had done exactly that ultimately failed to advance anyone to the main tournament and was forced to take down its signboard amid the ridicule of the entire gangho.
"After that incident, outright surveillance decreased, but deciding which preliminary sector to enter remains something even most mid-tier sects consider with extreme care."
"Oh… I see…"
At Namgung Sol's gaze, brimming with respect, Paeng Ha-ryeong thrust out her chest, proudly displaying the abundant maternal affection she took such pride in. Having witnessed with her own eyes the existence of Paeng Ha-ryeong's "knowledge pouch" that produced such practical gangho wisdom, Namgung Sol could not help but let out a soft gasp of admiration.
Jegal Seon-a, who had been faithfully playing the role of attentive listener, let her eyes sparkle like an owl spotting prey in the darkness at the unusual flow of conversation.
Sook-mae… Did Ha-ryeong just call Jeong Sol sojeo "Sook-mae"?
From that single term of address, Jegal Seon-a realized that the relationship between Namgung Woo and Namgung Sol was far from ordinary. In that case, she too should…
"Jeong sojeo, do you happen to know roughly how many participants enter each preliminary group?"
"The number? I'm not entirely sure…"
"It varies by group, but on average it's between twenty and thirty people. The martial tournament uses one-on-one single-elimination matches for both preliminaries and the main bracket. In other words, you must win three matches to advance, sojeo."
"Three…"
"It occasionally goes to four, but three is usually enough. The rest periods during the preliminaries are extremely short. Even winners often forfeit because they have no energy left."
Overexerting oneself in the preliminaries only to suffer internal injuries or fall into qi deviation would be putting the cart before the horse. Even if one advanced to the main tournament in such a state, they would likely forfeit before the first match. They might receive the Dragon-Phoenix title, but it would come with mockery and insulting nicknames like "Earth Dragon" or "Withered Phoenix" for not even understanding their own condition.
"Therefore, while winning the matches is important, the real focus should be on winning efficiently. Of course, conserving too much strength would also be a mistake. Following the middle path is crucial."
Namgung Sol was genuinely surprised by this new side of Jegal Seon-a and parted her lips slightly. The small, delicate appearance that reminded one of a little animal. The flustered, dazed demeanor she had shown more often than sharp decisiveness. Honestly, the first impression Jegal Seon-a had left on Namgung Sol had not gone beyond "cute" even in the most generous assessment—especially from someone who considered her own life to have been rather harsh.
But this was clearly different. Was this really the same jerboa-like Jegal Seon-a? As expected of the Jegal family. A smart clan… While there were realistic limits to how much her chest could swell with grandeur, it was certainly enough to make her reconsider that first impression.
"Yes. I'll keep it in mind. Thank you, Jegal sojeo."
"Ahem, ahem. Well, it's just basic advice that anyone could give."
Even as she pretended it was nothing special, Jegal Seon-a's eyes kept darting toward Namgung Woo. It was a look that clearly sought praise. Even to Namgung Sol—who had zero romantic experience and would have to reach back ten years to the boys her age who used to tease her—the meaning of that gaze was unmistakable.
Swallowing hard at the scene unfolding before her, Namgung Sol glanced at Paeng Ha-ryeong. The tension about the upcoming match had completely vanished from her mind. When she looked at Paeng Ha-ryeong's expression, however, the response was unexpectedly calm.
Under Paeng Ha-ryeong's tacit approval, Namgung Woo gave Jegal Seon-a the reaction she had been hoping for.
"Thank you, Jegal sojeo. That was very hel—"
Namgung Woo suddenly cut himself off and stopped walking. He turned his head sharply, eyes narrowing as they scattered blue light.
"Gaga?"
"N-Nam Daehyeop?"
Could her blatant bid for praise and attention have bothered him? While Jegal Seon-a fidgeted anxiously, Namgung Woo deactivated his Changnyeongmanan and returned his gaze forward.
"Ah, my apologies. I thought I saw something strange. It must have been my imagination."
It might have been caused by the energy wave he had spread to disrupt the sound. Namgung Woo tried to identify the source of the odd sensation he had felt. After finishing the praise he had not been able to give Jegal Seon-a earlier, he resumed walking.
Yet after only a step or two, a question rose in his mind about the credibility of his own words.
Had the Changnyeongmanan ever been wrong before?