Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: What Was the Name Again...? (2)
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"Everyone from the martial world of Jianghu, it is truly meaningful that we have gathered here today for this occasion..."
Even here, they're giving speeches like some school principal's pep talk.
With the Alliance Leader, the Sword Saint, absent, the Vice Leader was delivering the opening address in his place.
He looked fairly old, but his voice, infused with inner energy, rang out clear and strong—he seemed hale and hearty still.
The content was the same old hackneyed stuff about fighting fair and square to claim victory, but the crowd seemed to eat it up.
Clap clap clap clap.
But I figured it had more to do with the speaker's popularity than the words themselves.
I'd actually bothered to read the rules for the Nine Dragons Contest—the ones nobody else seemed to—the ones scribbled on that paper.
I'd toyed with the idea of backstabbing someone with them, but gave up on it.
There weren't many ways to pull it off anyway, and even if I did win that way, I'd just end up getting finger-pointed as a coward.
The assembled crowd was then guided by Shaolin monks into several groups and herded into waiting rooms.
Dozens of men crammed into one big room like some army barracks—it felt suffocating. Wait, army...?
"It's so stuffy in here it's driving me mad. I never knew a room full of nothing but men could feel this creepy."
As if reading my mind, the guy next to me grinned and struck up a conversation. He looked a few years older than me.
"Who might you be?"
"Name's Do Yeo-jung. Just a guy scrambling to inherit a little dojo back in Sichuan."
"Sichuan?"
If I had to pick, Sichuan was the most familiar place to me across all of China. I'd lived there for close to half a year, after all.
"Nice to meet you. I was in Sichuan myself until recently. Name's Kang Yun."
"Not your hometown, then?"
"Nope."
He started grilling me—had I been to this spot in Sichuan, tried that food?—but then his voice split in two in my ears.
[Don't make it obvious. Listen up. I'm here to assist you on orders from the Network Lord.]
I jolted in surprise. Talking out loud while sending a transmission? Was that even possible?
[It's a special trick of mine, so no need to be shocked. Even in the main text, not many can pull it off.]
[Main text? What the hell does that mean? Don't tell me...]
[That's right. The Underground Network.]
Anyone talking about the "main text" and offering help had to be from the Underground Network. Everyone else was from some family or sect.
Do Yeo-jung figured me for an outside expert cooperating with the Network. He probably had a pretty good idea of my true identity—at least as much as the Network Lord did.
The Underground Network was a information guild born from society's outcasts: thieves, courtesans, errand boys, folks with nowhere else to turn.
They'd infiltrated every corner of society, dealing in all sorts of intel, but every single one of their experts was precious.
A sect that treated even someone of my caliber like gold—what could they refuse if they had a superhuman like my master backing them up? Ah, the grace of a teacher.
[I'll back you up on the intel side as much as I can. No matter what happens around here, you won't get blindsided at least.]
[Reliable.]
I grinned.
"If you hit all the spots I've mentioned, you can strut around Sichuan without anyone calling you a country bumpkin!"
"Gotta check 'em out sometime."
The man was a genius. While laying out his backstory via transmission, he was rattling off Sichuan tourist spots with his mouth.
How many people could pull off something like that naturally, even with the talent for it?
"Next up, Young Hero Kang Yun of the Go Escort Agency, and Young Hero Gil-sang of the Unaffiliated Roster—please stand by."
A Shaolin monk called out me and my opponent in a bright, clear voice. The moment our eyes met, I thought to myself:
'Buddy, you don't look anywhere near young enough to be called a young hero.'
Mae So-hyang, already basking in her son's easy first victory, waited impatiently for the second opponent she'd been eyeing to step up to the fourth group's arena.
Her lavish palace robes were stunning enough to draw any onlooker's gaze, but the furrow in her brow was the fly in the jade.
'Pung-yeon... he'll win, right?'
Mae So-hyang's pride ran sky-high. From childhood, she'd never fallen short in beauty, martial arts, or even learning.
But not long after venturing into Jianghu, she'd crossed paths with Zhuge Mi-ryeong—a woman superior in every way.
The only contest was beauty, and even that was a near tie; she got crushed everywhere else.
If she hadn't witnessed Zhuge Mi-ryeong throwing her life away over some unheard-of man, she'd still be tormented by that inferiority complex.
But as if to mock her, Peng Yeon-hwa—a woman she'd barely spared a thought for—rose to the ranks of absolute expert years later.
Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Mae So-hyang's own master, Sword Severance.
'Kang Yun...! You must...!'
Those two women treasured him—and he would fall to her son. No prettier picture existed.
"There he is."
Her son whispered at her side.
It was him, alright. His opponent? Some run-of-the-mill wandering swordsman.
If Zhuge Mi-ryeong had sent him out with confidence, he had to be at least first-rate... but he didn't look like he could bring it.
Sure enough, before the ronin could even swing his sword properly, his wrist snapped, he dropped the blade, and got hurled out of the arena for a ring-out loss.
"What a bore. Though I didn't expect much from him anyway."
"Don't get cocky. Even if he's not blood, if Zhuge Mi-ryeong sent him out so sure... don't take it lightly."
Her son already oozed victory, but Mae So-hyang didn't like it one bit.
"No worries, Mother. I'll show him just how fierce Huashan Sect's signature techniques can be."
Neung Pung-yeon left those words behind and headed back to the arena for his second match.
Her son had stopped listening to her properly once his shoulders broadened, but today he felt especially unreliable.
My opening draws weren't particularly unlucky, so I made it to the main bracket without much fuss.
Well, it wasn't like we'd drawn lots—the organizers had probably paired things up to avoid top experts clashing early.
This was medieval China. Convenience likely trumped fairness, and they might not even see it as unfair.
"Good work."
Mom and Dad both wore expressions like it was only natural.
I'd hoped to celebrate advancing with a drink, but no dice.
"We're inside Shaolin grounds, remember? Bear with it a little."
Shaolin could tolerate the smell of meat and booze wafting in from outside, but not the smellers themselves wandering the temple.
If I made Nine Dragons in the main bracket, sure, I could rent a room at an inn for a day and gorge myself.
But I had to admit there wasn't enough cause to throw a booze-up just for passing qualifiers.
'Ahh, I wanna go already...!'
If you asked when I'd turned into such a booze hound, the answer was never—I wasn't.
What I was hooked on was sex. Milf impregnation sex with Mom after putting Dad to sleep!
"You look like you've got some free time. Help out with work. Having a son around makes everything three times easier..."
I was sneaking off to escape when I changed my mind.
The Nine Dragons Contest main bracket had 32 entrants—31 matches total.
Round of 32 and 16 over the next two days starting tomorrow; quarters two days after; semis two days later; finals three days after that.
Nine days left.
Closing ceremony with the finals—Dad would get busy then and hightail it back to the agency.
Problem was, if I left him to his own devices while busy...
'He might bail and tell us to have fun without him!'
I'd even considered banging Mom first, then slipping Dad a spiked drink.
But no booze allowed on Shaolin grounds, so Dad had to be free that day no matter what.
"Let's go, Dad."
Seeing my eager expression, Dad—half puzzled, half pleased—shoved me into the room that served as his bedroom and office.
Through the closing door, I caught Mom smirking like she'd guessed my plan.
The Huashan Sect second disciple's hands trembled as he opened a fist-sized wooden box.
Inside lay a pill the color of blood.
"S-So, this... this is really...!"
"Indeed. It's our sect's secret restorative pill—not quite on par with Huashan Sect's Purple Zoanthid Pill, but not far behind."
"Kunlun Sect's secret medicine...! Why give it to me?"
"It's from Elder Mu-heo."
"E-Elder Mu-heo...?"
The second disciple gaped. He recalled the Kunlun peak expert he'd met once with his master.
The man's display of Kunlun arts, that name—Mu-heo. The second disciple believed him.
"Elder Mu-heo saw your fine talent but lamented your lack of inner energy."
"...!"
"He specially instructed me to deliver this pill we'd obtained to you this time."
"Aaaah...!"
The second disciple beamed with joy. He bowed repeatedly, unsure how to repay the favor.
The man who'd introduced himself as a Kunlun disciple waved it off—no need to feel burdened, just don't tell a soul.
The moment the second disciple bowed once more and vanished down the hall, the man sneered.
"A guy who hits up brothels even out here—how much training do you think he's done? What an idiot."
The man despised whiners who complained their skills weren't growing without putting in the work.
Then, without a sound, another man appeared behind him.
"Senior Brother, we can't just let that fool pop it like that, can we?"
"Of course not. It'd be wasted on him anyway. Neung Pung-yeon needs to take it. Prep him good."
The whole Mu-heo story was just parroting what the second disciple had blabbed in a Demonic Cult-linked brothel.
He'd spiced it up with tales of becoming a pillar of the martial world, but meeting Mu-heo was probably true enough.
"Alright, next up. Qingcheng this time? Buncha fatasses anyway. Too busy stuffing their faces to swing a sword once more."
The man spat curses as he launched into motion.
The elegant arc of his legs was unmistakable: Kunlun's Cloud Dragon Eight Forms.