Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: What Was His Name Again... (3)
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A day had passed since yesterday, and the waiting room had grown quite sparse.
Do Yeo-jung, who had survived the preliminaries, kept chattering nonstop beside me.
Most of it was pointless nonsense, but whenever a master passed by, he made sure to identify them via sound transmission.
Normally, I'd let such personal details go in one ear and out the other, but since I had to beat these people, I paid close attention.
There were about two I had zero chance against. Peng Wol, son of the Sword Expert Peng Mu-do, and Gyeon Yong-jin, supposedly the son of Wudang Sect's leader.
Both peak experts around thirty years old—no way I could take them.
Their auras alone were no joke.
'The rest, I can manage somehow.'
Looking at the bracket, I could avoid facing them before the semifinals.
Once I reached the semifinals, it wouldn't matter if I won or lost...
For a fast sword master, he had a slow, amiable, bear-like presence.
But the moment we stepped onto the arena, I had no choice but to completely reverse that impression.
"I intend to face Young Hero Kang Yun with my sword."
Having declared his technique, Yo Jeong-rib's blade was merciless.
Shiiiiiik—
The initial thrust was manageable enough.
But the Seventy-Two Wave Sword gradually picked up speed, as if testing my limits, making it surprisingly tricky to handle.
Even as I shattered the sword shadows with Finger Wind, the next one, and the one after that, kept surging forth.
Typically, this style mixes feints and real strikes to confuse the opponent about what's real, but every shadow of his was genuine.
"Ugh...!"
Yet Yo Jeong-rib let out a groan.
Having judged that I could break through, I began piercing the waves of sword shadows bit by bit.
Just as I had with Namgung Hye, I unleashed heavy palm force, smashing every fast-approaching shadow.
Even if every strike was real, the fast sword's inherent lack of weight couldn't be compensated for.
"No...!"
His droopy eyes bulged wide in shock, but the Seventy-Two Wave Sword only accelerated further.
I endured, shattering them one by one.
When the sword shadows finally rose from all directions like crashing waves, I made my move.
Even from all sides, their movements weren't perfectly synchronized.
The flows from center, left, and right hadn't fully merged, leaving gaps.
Before the forms could close those gaps, my palms, charged with force, thrust in like shoving open sliding doors, dispersing the palm energy.
Yo Jeong-rib desperately tried to reconnect the torn wave, but it was already too late.
"...I yield."
He tried to block my advance somehow, but the moment my empty palm touched his abdomen, Yo Jeong-rib admitted defeat.
As his fiercely widened eyes returned to their droopy state, I bowed my head in response.
"Thank you for yielding."
"Yielding? Hardly."
Seeing him grin and extend his hand, he seemed like a straightforward, decent fellow.
I clasped his hand in return, and the spectators who had watched erupted in cheers—what a feeling...
Embarrassing, yet exhilarating.
"Did you let him win on purpose?"
It was a question out of nowhere. But since it came from Peng Wol, I greeted him politely first.
"A pleasure, Hero Peng. I'm Kang Yun."
"...I got the order wrong. I'm Peng Wol. So, may I have an answer to my question?"
"If you're referring to Young Hero Yo's Seventy-Two Wave Sword, then yes."
In truth, I could have shattered it much earlier, before it fully activated.
But I held back until what seemed like an ultimate technique was about to unfold.
"Why? Any peak expert watching your match would have sensed it. Why hold back?"
"...I can't just scramble for victory. If there's something to learn, I should learn it."
"Ha..."
Peng Wol laughed as if utterly astonished.
"Arrogant. You're basically saying you let him go wild because you were confident you could still win."
"..."
"But that's what I like about it. A true Jianghu warrior needs that kind of spirit."
Sorry to Peng Wol, who now seemed to like me, but it was all a bluff.
Actually, it was for Neung Pung-yeon, whom I'd face in the third round—the quarterfinals.
If peak expert Mae So-hyang spilled it, unavoidable. But if Neung Pung-yeon saw it herself, she'd write me off as a pushover for sure.
If she saw through it, fine. If not, it meant her skill was lacking, which was good too.
"Father told me. You learned from my aunt, right?"
"Just a few moves..."
Peng Mu-do was in his late fifties, Peng Wol early thirties, so he remembered Peng Yeon-hwa quite well.
As I responded to Peng Wol's overtures,
'I miss Peng Yeon-hwa...!'
I'd asked her to look after the pregnant Tang Hye-won—hope she was doing well.
It had been a little over a month since Kang Yun left the Tang Family.
"Any inconveniences? I can't visit as often as Young Hero Kang, so if you need anything, just say the word."
"I'm fine, Sister-in-law."
Unlike Kang Yun, who came almost daily, Peng Yeon-hwa only managed every three or four days, leaving her feeling guilty toward Tang Hye-won.
"Is family business keeping you busy? You've got hired help—no need to worry so much."
Tang Hye-won had hired extra staff anticipating Peng Yeon-hwa's pregnancy, so there were practically too many people.
Though it seemed she hadn't gotten pregnant after all.
Peng Yeon-hwa swallowed her regret and changed the subject.
"By now, Young Hero Kang must have arrived at Shaolin Temple and be deep in the matches."
"I just hope he doesn't half-ass it and show up late for a forfeit... And if he messes with another girl..."
Tang Hye-won imagined Kang Yun chasing after some pretty girl, arriving late to his match, and getting disqualified by default.
"But it's Shaolin. The pinnacle of orthodox martial arts, and a temple at that—no way he'd make trouble with women there."
"I still think he will..."
Tang Hye-won thought of the items she'd prepared for him.
'Strong sleeping pills, aphrodisiac, skin-friendly oil...'
Whether he'd taken them was anyone's guess, but somehow, it felt like Kang Yun would have.
"Want to bet? Loser avoids all contact with Young Hero Kang for a week."
"...Sister-in-law, that could turn into a real disaster."
To Tang Hye-won, Peng Yeon-hwa was digging her own grave, nothing more or less.
But lacking the guts for such a reckless wager, Tang Hye-won could only smile.
Having claimed victory through the second round, I now stood just one win away from confirmed Nine Dragons status.
My second-round opponent was another Qingcheng disciple, skilled in the Azure Wind Sword Technique but no match for Yo Jeong-rib.
Reaching the semifinals guaranteed Nine Dragons entry, with two more selected from the four quarterfinal losers by the orthodox luminaries.
"Still, no more of that from here on out."
Mother, like Peng Wol, had noticed I'd let him win and now warned me anew.
Such games rarely drew formal complaints from elders, but if the opponent realized, they'd surely hold a grudge.
Mother looked like a mountain of worry, but Father seemed unconcerned.
"Kids that age need to flaunt a bit of spirit. You're worrying too much, dear."
"So he should suffer exactly as you did?"
Father must have a similar history; he suddenly clamped his mouth shut.
Just as Mother was about to launch into a full lecture, she paused at a sudden presence.
When Mother and I opened the door, there they were again.
"Not intruding by dropping by unannounced, are we? Lady Zhuge."
"Nonsense. Come in, Lady Mae, Young Hero Neung."
Mae So-hyang and her son Neung Pung-yeon were staking out our lodgings.
But they didn't grate on me like before. Not because they'd suddenly turned over a new leaf or softened their words.
'She bought it!'
Neung Pung-yeon stared at me without a trace of wariness—just pure disdain.
Mae So-hyang must not have told her, or she'd ignored it outright.
Mae So-hyang brought up their sons' duel two days away, subtly hyping me up.
"Young Hero Kang handled Qingcheng swordsmanship so adeptly. Have you crossed blades before?"
"Not at all. First time."
"Impressive. Qingcheng techniques aren't something you see through at a glance."
Glancing at Neung Pung-yeon's reactions nonstop, her goal seemed to be making him wary of me.
Man, not a teen anymore—listen to your mother.
"Just luck. My heart skipped beats inside. With an expert like Lady Mae appraising it favorably, no fear of embarrassment."
Neung Pung-yeon snorted lightly, his of course attitude on full display.
Idiot or born arrogant—either way, perfect for me.
I relaxed and savored Mae So-hyang's stream of praise.
'Looking closer, she's something else.'
She'd always annoyed me before, but fooling Neung Pung-yeon gave me breathing room, letting her beauty sink in.
Unlike Mother's neat travel attire, her ornate robe embroidered with plum blossoms was stunningly beautiful.
Not just her face—the voluminous fabric still hinted at a voluptuous figure.
Would I ever get the chance to strip this woman bare and thrust into her?
"Mother, you're gilding Young Hero Kang's face too much. Won't it burden him?"
Neung Pung-yeon cut into Mae So-hyang's praise fest.
His vibe screamed I've seen enough, let's go.
"...Come to think of it, we've overstayed. Hope we weren't rude."
"Not at all, Lady Mae."
Mae So-hyang had to be seething inside. As they rose, Neung Pung-yeon spoke.
"Looking forward to our duel the day after tomorrow."
His presumptuous victor tone irked me, so I replied,
"What was your name again... Neung Pyeong-un? Looking forward to it."
Deliberately botching his name, Mother shook her head, while Father subtly looked pleased.
This guy's got a rebellious streak too.
"...Don't complain if my hand is heavy!"
Neung Pung-yeon's face flushed beet red as he slammed the door on his way out.
But my gaze stayed fixed on Mae So-hyang's hips swaying as she followed him out.