Chapter 142: Counter Form (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 142: Counter Form (1)
This meeting concluded far quicker than the last.
It wasn't because they had run out of things to discuss, but because the Abbot intentionally cut the proceedings short at a critical juncture.
"Since the outline for our preparations against the Demonic Cult has been established, we shall first resolve our internal matters."
The Abbot gestured toward General Cheonyang, Ju Cheol-yak, and Lee Seo-jun, the latter attending the meeting as an Elder of the Namgung Clan.
"Everyone here should be aware of the recent incident. First, there must be an apology from the Imperial Family for the insult directed at the Geum Family."
Ju Cheol-yak’s eyebrows twitched.
"That matter is not of such gravity that the Imperial Family must step forward to apologize."
"In that moment, Jin Gi-jae-cheon could have taken the Third Prince’s head."
"Had he done so, he would not have escaped unscathed either."
Glances were exchanged around the room at his bafflingly defiant attitude.
An Elder of the Wudang Sect spoke up, his brow deeply furrowed. "When a direct descendant of a noble house commits such a discourtesy, it is only right to offer an apology, or at the very least, an acknowledgment of wrongdoing."
"It seems the Wudang Sect is accustomed to the sect itself bowing its head for the actions of a mere disciple," Ju Cheol-yak retorted.
"At the very least, one can speak up. The disciple who committed the wrong should be the one to apologize."
"I believe the Third Prince has already apologized."
Ju Cheol-yak looked at Seo-jun with cold, unyielding eyes. Seo-jun, who had been listening in silence with his arms crossed, finally spoke up.
"I don't recall receiving an apology."
"The Third Prince apologized, and I heard you laid hands on him afterward."
An apology?
‘Make sure you never wag your tongue so carelessly again.’
‘…Yes.’
Seo-jun scoffed at the vivid memory.
"That wasn't an apology. He just nodded because he was scared shitless."
"Are you suggesting a Prince of the Empire should have dropped to his knees?"
"Ideally, I’d prefer it if you were the one kneeling. You arrogant prick."
"Your speech is worse than that of a common street thug. No wonder people call the daughter of the Geum Family a low-born."
Wow.
The sheer audacity of those words almost took his breath away.
He felt like he was about to snap, but as his fury breached a certain threshold, his mind paradoxically settled into a cold, absolute calm.
‘Maybe I should watch my tone a bit.’
He didn't care about his own dignity, but it would be problematic if people started questioning the dignity of the Geum Family or the Namgung Clan because of him. Not many would dare say anything to his face, but he still felt bad for those standing by his side.
Of course, this man was an exception.
"I have no manners to spare for vermin," Seo-jun said, his voice dropping to a glacial chill. "Does the Imperial Family bow to passing ants? At least you seem to know your place."
"Jin Gi-jae-cheon, please, calm yourself."
The Abbot tried to intervene, but this time Namgung Hyeok stepped forward.
"Abbot, this is a matter for the Geum Family, but it is also a matter for the Namgung Clan. I, Namgung Hyeok, will not stand by while the Imperial Family dares to insult an Elder of the Namgung Clan."
The Abbot looked at the Young Lord, Namgung Myeong, with an uncertain gaze. He was silently asking if this was indeed the official stance of the entire Namgung Clan.
Namgung Myeong hesitated for a fraction of a second, appearing nervous surrounded by so many legendary seniors, but he soon nodded firmly.
"Family is what makes the Namgung Clan, and we do not abandon our roots."
The Abbot then turned his heavy gaze to Ju Cheol-yak. "What will you do?"
"…I cannot accept this. What on earth is this grudge against the Imperial Family that makes you all spout such nonsense?"
The Abbot felt a tight, suffocating pressure in his chest. He barely managed to suppress the heavy sigh threatening to escape his lips.
This wasn't a problem that could be solved with mere words.
While General Cheonyang didn't represent the entirety of the Imperial Family's will, it wasn't as if he lacked influence. He was of the Ju bloodline—a true member of the Imperial Family. He was the Emperor’s own nephew.
If things went wrong, it could ignite a devastating internal strife among the Sixteen Major Sects and Clans. That was a disaster that absolutely could not happen at a time like this.
The best-case scenario would be for a single, supreme decision-maker to judge the right and wrong of the situation. But given the political nature of the Sixteen Major Sects and Clans, where everyone stood on relatively equal footing, that was impossible. The Alliance Leader had little interest in the petty squabbles of men.
In the end, the parties involved had to settle it themselves.
"Abbot."
At Seo-jun’s call, the Abbot looked over.
"It doesn't look like words are going to work, so why don't we just have a clean fight and end this?"
From the Abbot’s perspective, this suggestion was a profound relief. Even in his eyes, General Cheonyang had crossed the line this time. There was a limit to how much imperial pride one should display in the martial world.
Feeling apologetic for failing as a mediator, the Abbot sent a secret voice transmission to Seo-jun.
[Will you be alright? If you happen to lose, the situation will become incredibly complicated.]
[It doesn't matter.]
Seo-jun’s eyes pierced straight through Ju Cheol-yak.
[Because I would win even if we fought ten thousand times.]
*
Preparations for the duel proceeded with lightning speed.
Ju Cheol-yak, possessing absolute certainty in his own victory, accepted the challenge without a second thought.
The Abbot suggested they hold the duel quietly within the secluded grounds of the Shaolin Temple. This was to prevent their martial arts from being exposed to outsiders and to minimize the crushing humiliation the loser would inevitably face. Wouldn't it be better to accept the result quietly than to lose in front of countless spectators and become the laughingstock of the martial world?
"There is no need for that. It is better to determine who is right in front of everyone."
However, Ju Cheol-yak demanded a public duel.
He intended to judge the traitor who dared to insult the Imperial Family before the eyes of the entire world. He wasn't unaware that the Third Prince’s words might have provoked a backlash, but to publicly shame the Imperial Family when a quiet protest would have sufficed…
In Ju Cheol-yak’s mind, it was an unforgivable sin. Especially since the Third Prince hadn't said anything that wasn't technically true in his eyes. He had to beat this arrogant traitor to a pulp in front of everyone to restore the tarnished honor of the Imperial Family.
"I don't mind either."
Seo-jun readily agreed.
Leaking his martial arts? At the Super Peak Realm, exposing a few forms or habits to the outside world didn't change a damn thing. If a martial artist couldn't adapt and control even that much, they wouldn't have reached the Super Peak Realm in the first place.
Thus, their duel was set for the public stage.
The Yongbong Gathering was postponed by a single day, and their duel was scheduled to take its place.
The conditions they set for victory and defeat were absolute:
If Ju Cheol-yak won, Seo-jun must drop to his knees and apologize for his insolence toward the Imperial Family.
If Seo-jun won, Ju Cheol-yak must drop to his knees and apologize for insulting the Geum Family.
However, Seo-jun made one clause crystal clear. Even if he lost, the one apologizing would be Seo-jun himself, not the Geum Family or the Namgung Clan.
Ju Cheol-yak also didn't want the political fallout to escalate beyond repair, so he agreed to the terms.
This was more than enough. For any martial artist at or above the Super Peak Realm who possessed an ironclad sense of pride, kneeling before a jeering crowd was a disgrace far worse than death.
And so, the day of the duel arrived.
Members of the Sixteen Major Sects and Clans buzzed with anticipation, discussing the upcoming clash.
"I hope the young lad isn't broken by this incident…" the Wudang Elder muttered, his face lined with worry.
Beside him, Hong Angae clicked his tongue. "The whole thing is nonsense to begin with. It’s already painfully clear who should be receiving the apology."
"I can understand the Abbot’s position, but still…"
"Well, it can't be helped. It’s a problem that will be solved the moment that young man wins."
Hong Angae looked toward the Namgung Clan’s side of the arena. Pae Jin-gwang, who was standing there grumpily with his arms crossed, furrowed his brows at the stare.
"What are you looking at?"
"What do you think, Senior Fist King?" Hong Angae asked.
"The Imperial lot weren't always this bad. That fellow is just exceptionally rude."
"No, I mean the duel. Who do you think will win?"
"If they fight with the intent to kill, our brat wins, no question."
At those words, Hong Angae scratched his head. A shower of questionable debris fell from his messy hair, causing the Wudang Elder to quickly dodge out of the way.
"And if it’s not to the death?"
"Our brat still wins."
"General Cheonyang won't be an easy opponent…"
"You’ll change your mind once you see that kid fight. For starters, I’m not even confident I could beat him."
The Demonification he had witnessed before—if Seo-jun brought that out now, Pae Jin-gwang truly wasn't confident he could secure a win. Even if he didn't use it… it might be a close match, but the kid still had the edge.
"That young man is truly that good?"
"If the Fist King evaluates him so highly…"
"No matter how talented he is, he’s still young. Surely he can't be that monstrously strong. It must be an exaggeration."
In an instant, the surrounding experts fixed their eyes on the Fist King. Most were deeply skeptical, but Pae Jin-gwang only scoffed at their doubt.
"What are you all looking at?"
It was a prickly, aggressive reaction, but since everyone knew the Fist King was close to Jin Gi-jae-cheon, they didn't push the issue. It was also incredibly awkward to argue back because the Fist King’s seniority in the martial world was absurdly high.
Hong Angae chuckled, breaking the tension. "Anyway, I hope he knocks those Imperial fellows down a peg. I heard it’s been hard for beggars to even get a decent meal in Beijing lately."
"That’s because you rich bastards keep trying to scam free meals," Pae Jin-gwang grunted.
"Senior, that’s a secret."
"So what-TV, you punk."
The Wudang Elder blinked, utterly bewildered. "What on earth is that?"
"Sigh, this is why old farts are so exhausting… It’s what the kids use these days."
"Ho, that is surprising."
*
Seo-jun took a quiet moment to compose his mind and body as he prepared for the impending duel.
Squish, squish—
Which meant, of course, that he was currently fiddling with Chun-bong’s chubby cheeks.
"Hey, this didn't get blown out of proportion because of me, right?" Chun-bong mumbled through squished lips.
Opening his eyes, Seo-jun scoffed. "No. It’s just because that guy is a prick."
Honestly, he would have been fine with letting the Third Prince incident slide into the past. Chun-bong had already proven the prince's words were absolute nonsense by beating the living crap out of him.
"But the way I see it, that bastard is going to keep spouting nonsense even if he loses this time."
Seo-jun released the boy and stood up.
Namgung Su-ah, who had been standing quietly by his side, stepped forward and handed him his sword. As Seo-jun fastened the scabbard to his waist, she lightly reached out and took his hand.
"Then what are you going to do?" she asked softly.
"I’m going to make sure he can't even squeak."
Leaving behind a softly smiling Namgung Su-ah, Seo-jun turned and walked toward the martial arts arena.
"Go give him a beating, Lee Seo-jun!" Chun-bong yelled at his back.
Seo-jun smirked at the boy's voice. "Of course. I’m Geum Chun-bong’s big brother."
Stepping onto the arena stones, Seo-jun took in the staggering sight of the countless spectators surrounding the stage.
His black martial robes fluttered gently in the light breeze.
Seo-jun walked toward the dead center of the arena, slowly circulating his internal energy.
Whoosh—!
Golden patterns began to slowly trace themselves over the dark fabric of his robes. The mysteriously shimmering golden qi condensed, taking on a distinct, majestic shape.
It was a golden dragon.
It was a divine technique manifested solely through his absolute control over his internal energy. The golden dragon etched against the black fabric made it look exactly like an Imperial Dragon Robe, but Seo-jun couldn't care less.
Whether it was a black dragon on a golden background or a golden dragon on a black background—from this moment on, it would all be recognized as the symbol of the Divine Sword Geum Family.
"I am Lee Seo-jun, Elder of the Namgung Clan and successor of the Divine Sword Geum Family."
Seo-jun’s eyes shimmered with a terrifying, brilliant golden light.