Chapter 42: Martial Arts Tournament (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 42: Martial Arts Tournament (2)
Despite his bold ambitions, Seo-jun didn't get to face Dam Je-il right away.
Since he had advanced by default, his next opponent wasn't Dam Je-il, but a martial artist named Seo Bok-woo.
"I look forward to a good match. I am Seo Bok-woo of the Biyu Sword Hall."
As the man gave a formal fist and palm salute, Seo-jun returned the gesture.
"I'm Lee Seo-jun, Chun-bong's older brother."
Seo Bok-woo’s expression turned strange at the unconventional introduction, but Seo-jun didn't care.
Judging by his aura, Seo Bok-woo’s cultivation hovered around the First-rate realm. He was likely here to gain experience rather than to seriously contend for the championship.
In fact, there weren't many Peak Realm martial artists here to begin with. Most participants were in the First-rate or Second-rate realms.
The main tournament would undoubtedly be a clash between Peak Realm experts.
"Ahem."
The Mount Hua Sect disciple acting as the referee cleared his throat to draw their attention. After exchanging glances with the two fighters, he thrust his hand forward.
"Begin!"
The moment the referee gave the word, Seo Bok-woo charged.
A hazy Sword Qi coated his blade. The thrust aimed at Seo-jun's shoulder carried a fierce momentum.
But compared to Chun-bong's strikes, it was nothing.
Drawing his sword with practiced ease, Seo-jun parried the strike using Flowing Clouds Blue Heaven. In a single, fluid motion, he brought his blade to rest gently against the man's throat.
And just like that, it was over.
The arena fell silent for a moment.
"...Winner, Lee Seo-jun!"
Only after the Mount Hua disciple made the declaration did the spectating martial artists begin to murmur.
"Lee Seo-jun...? Have you heard of him?"
"Never. And that Seo Bok-woo fellow wasn't exactly a pushover either..."
Seo Bok-woo, who had been standing frozen with his mouth agape, finally snapped out of his daze. With trembling hands, he offered a salute.
"...Thank you for the profound lesson."
"Good match."
Offering a polite response, Seo-jun stepped down from the stage and scratched his neck.
Is it just because these are the preliminaries?
The level of skill on display was painfully underwhelming.
*
Dam Je-il quickly won his next duel against another martial artist.
Dam Je-il had already fought twice, while Seo-jun had only fought once.
Under normal circumstances, someone might have cried foul over the uneven bracket. But here, no one voiced a single grievance. With over a thousand participants in the preliminaries, everyone knew that complaining about fairness would fall on deaf ears.
In any ordinary tournament, these hot-blooded martial artists wouldn't have kept their frustrations bottled up.
Forcing a moment of calm reflection onto Murim-ins—people who usually preferred to swing their swords first and ask questions later—was a true testament to the sheer authority of the Mount Hua Sect.
"I saw you fight earlier. You're not bad! But you're still no match for me! Why don't you just surrender before you get hurt?"
Seo-jun nonchalantly picked his ear at Dam Je-il's words.
Being surrounded by all these sweaty dudes just made him want to go back and squish Chun-bong’s cheeks as soon as possible.
"Lee Seo-jun, Dam Je-il, step forward."
At the referee's call, Seo-jun stood up and headed to the arena.
Dam Je-il followed close behind, clicking his tongue.
Standing across from Dam Je-il, Seo-jun idly toyed with his sword.
Jokes aside, his Chun-bong withdrawal symptoms were starting to kick in.
His hands were shaking, and his heart was thumping.
He felt like if he didn't get to squish her cheeks right this second, he might just bury his sword in Dam Je-il’s gut out of sheer frustration.
"Hey, old man."
"Huh?"
"You better block well, okay?"
As Seo-jun drew the sword from his waist, Dam Je-il burst into a hollow laugh.
"Ridiculous! Worry about yourself, kid!"
The referee glanced at both of them and declared:
"Begin!"
The moment the word left his mouth, Dam Je-il charged forward.
Thump—! Thump—!
His footsteps were so heavy it felt like the arena might shatter beneath him. Yet, his speed was blistering—truly worthy of being called a top-tier movement technique.
Seo-jun took a deep breath and twisted his grip on his hilt.
If I kill him, I'm screwed. For real.
He had absolutely no desire to become the target of some obsessive, gritty revenge drama starring the Mount Hua Sect.
In the blink of an eye, Dam Je-il was right in front of him. His massive blade swung down toward Seo-jun's shoulder.
"Haaaah...!"
The crushing wind pressure weighed down on his shoulder even before the weapon could reach him. Rather than resisting the downward force, Seo-jun used the momentum to spin his body.
The essence of the Wang Family Blade Technique was, simply put, a single, lethal strike.
A vivid golden Blade Qi coated Seo-jun's spinning sword.
It was a physical impossibility, yet it was happening right before their eyes.
Seo-jun’s violently swung sword cleaved right through Dam Je-il’s massive blade.
"What...!"
Dam Je-il’s eyes widened in shock.
Seo-jun’s sword continued its path.
At the end of its trajectory lay Dam Je-il’s thick neck.
Thin skin. Thick muscle. Tendons and veins. The hard cervical bone at the center.
Passing the center, then tendons and veins again. Thick muscle. Thin skin.
The corners of Seo-jun’s mouth curled upward in a grin so wide it looked like his cheeks might tear.
"Phew, holy shit. That was close."
The sword, having barely nicked Dam Je-il’s neck, came to a dead halt just in time.
"Haa...! Haa...!"
Gasping for breath, Dam Je-il’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees.
A thin trickle of blood ran down his neck.
Clutching his throat and heaving for air, he eventually locked eyes with Seo-jun and began to tremble violently.
A yellowish liquid began to pool on the floor of the arena beneath him.
"Ugh! Dammit!"
Horrified, Seo-jun scrambled backward, putting distance between himself and Dam Je-il.
"Hey, old man! Do you have urinary incontinence?! You're not even that old!"
"Guh..."
Dam Je-il’s eyes rolled back, and he finally fainted.
Seo-jun’s jaw dropped.
"I mean... this is just ridiculous..."
*
Un-byeok, the supervisor in charge of Group 78, watched the martial artist who had just finished his duel.
Was his name Lee Seo-jun?
Because of the young man's overly casual attitude, Un-byeok had initially dismissed him as some street thug. However, his skills were unexpectedly brilliant.
Especially that moment just now.
The faint image of a heavy blade that had flickered over his swinging sword.
It was a phenomenon seen only in martial artists whose mental imagery was entirely dominated by the concept of the 'blade.'
The corners of Un-byeok’s mouth twitched upward.
It seems his primary weapon isn't a sword, but a blade.
It happened occasionally. Martial artists would hide their true weapons to confuse their opponents.
But such parlor tricks couldn't deceive Un-byeok’s eyes.
With that level of skill, he'll make it to a certain point. But no matter how lucky he gets, winning one or two more rounds will be his absolute limit.
The purity of his Blade Qi was decent, and while his blade technique wasn't lacking, it certainly couldn't be called extraordinary.
Still, the boy being in the group he supervised was a form of fate. Un-byeok figured a bit of light encouragement wouldn't hurt.
"Congratulations on making it to the main tournament."
Un-byeok approached Seo-jun and handed him a wooden plaque. The number 78 was carved prominently into its surface.
"This plaque proves your advancement. Be careful not to lose it."
"Ah, got it. So, is everything finished for now?"
"It is. If I may offer a piece of advice, once you reach the main tournament, you should—"
Whoosh—!
Un-byeok blinked. Seo-jun’s figure had vanished from right in front of his eyes.
"Well now..."
After standing frozen for a moment, Un-byeok looked around the arena, doing his best to hide his annoyance.
There lay Dam Je-il, passed out and soaking in a puddle of his own urine.
Un-byeok’s face contorted in disgust.
"Dammit..."
*
Utilizing the Yellow Dragon Crossing the Clouds movement technique, Seo-jun dashed off to find the location of Group 125.
There she is.
As luck would have it, Chun-bong was currently facing her opponent, seemingly just about to start her duel.
Geum Chun-bong looked incredibly suspicious with her bamboo hat pulled low and a veil covering her face.
But because she was so tiny, the getup just made her look adorable.
"Go Chun-bong!"
Chun-bong snapped her head toward him, then gave a little shrug of her shoulders.
A sudden, profound sense of peace washed over Seo-jun.
Wearing an expression like a monk about to reach nirvana, he sat down and prepared to watch the match.
Chun-bong’s opponent was a scrawny-looking guy, but he was annoyingly handsome, which instantly made Seo-jun irritable.
If that little prick puts even a single scratch on Chun-bong...
Mount Hua Sect tournament or not, he was going to crack the guy's skull open.
"Begin!"
At the referee's signal, Chun-bong took the initiative.
Sliding forward with a smooth, gliding step, she spun rapidly and drew her sword from her waist.
Clang—!
The opponent blocked the strike.
However, instead of bouncing off, Chun-bong’s sword remained glued to the opponent's blade.
The Technique of Adhesion.
Seo-jun was impressed. That wasn't an application of Qi; it was pure, unadulterated swordsmanship.
A profound technique used to control the opponent's weapon by keeping one's own blade stuck to it.
Looking flustered, the opponent tried to shake off Chun-bong’s sword, but it wouldn't budge an inch.
In fact, the exact moment the opponent put strength into his sword—
Swish—!
She borrowed his momentum, adding her own strength to it, and effortlessly knocked his sword upward.
"Whoa...!"
And just like that, the duel was over.
"Winner, Chun-bong!"
The opponent stared cross-eyed at the cold blade pressed against his neck before hanging his head in defeat.
"...I concede."
"Good match."
After the two martial artists exchanged salutes, the supervisor for Group 125 handed Chun-bong a plaque and said a few words to her.
Watching this, Seo-jun scratched his chin.
A true martial artist...
Whenever he watched Chun-bong fight right after watching mediocre martial artists, the realization hit him all over again.
The martial arts of a proper practitioner were simply on another level.
Beyond the mere presence or absence of Qi, there seemed to be a certain profound mystery dwelling within the weapons they wielded.
The swordsmanship Chun-bong had used in the duel just now wasn't even the Azure Cloud Divine Sword.
She had ended the match utilizing only the Technique of Adhesion.
Even so, the way she swung her sword was as smooth and elegant as drifting clouds. It felt less like a brutal duel and more like watching a beautiful landscape painting come to life.
"That's my Chun-bong...!"
Unable to contain himself, Seo-jun dashed forward and scooped Chun-bong up into his arms.
"Eek...!?"
"Good job, Chun-bong!"
"Hey! Put me down! Not in public!"
"Up we go!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
He ended up getting pummeled by a flurry of Meow-Meow Punches.
Strangely, the fatigue in his lower back vanished instantly.
*
As they left the arena together, Seo-jun suddenly remembered something and asked.
"But hey. I shouldn't use the Primordial Unity Sun-Moon Finger in these duels, right?"
"...Do you even have to ask?"
"Fair point."
Unless he intended to turn his opponents into exploding piles of minced meat, it was definitely best to refrain from using the Primordial Unity Sun-Moon Finger.
"Can I use the Primordial Unity Divine Art, then?"
"That should be fine, I think."
"Really?"
"Yeah. The energy itself is pure, so they won't be able to frame it as a demonic art or some forbidden technique."
Then what was up with that Azure River Sect Leader guy?
Stroking his chin with a thoughtful expression, Seo-jun nodded.
"Well, if that's the case, it's fine. I'll win the whole tournament for you."
"As if. I'm the one who's going to win."
"What...! Are you saying you're going to beat your own brother, who is as high as the heavens above you?!"
"Bullshit."
Chuckling, Seo-jun tapped the brim of Chun-bong’s bamboo hat.
"Anyway, let's go get something to eat."
"Oh my? We meet again."
At the sound of the sultry, familiar voice, Seo-jun turned his head.
"Whoa, look at those tits."
He was clearly looking at a person's face, but all his brain could register was her massive chest.
His hand instinctively moved toward his sword hilt, but Chun-bong ruthlessly pinched his side.
"Aaargh...!"
"Are you out of your mind?!"
"Why, what did I do...!"
"What?! 'Tits'? You've really lost it, haven't you?!"
Ah. Did he say that out loud?
Seo-jun let out an embarrassed laugh.
"Oh, my bad. But seriously, they're huge."