Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: Welcome, Master of the Blood Demon Divine Art (1)
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"The match schedule has changed?"
"Yes, young hero."
The young Shaolin monk who had shown up around lunchtime explained it just like that.
Apparently, there had been complaints that the selection process for the Nine Dragons from the four semifinal losers wasn't fair, so they were going to have a match among themselves.
I thought it was unfair too, having all those martial arts elders whispering among themselves to decide.
"That suggestion... did it come from the Huashan Sect, by any chance?"
"...This little monk hasn't heard anything, so I wouldn't know."
Bingo, nailed it! His expression gave it away completely!
I hadn't watched the matches closely, but I'd heard that the two from Shaolin and the Namgung family—who had put up a good fight against Peng Wol and Gyeon Yong-jin—were the frontrunners.
Me, who came in third or fourth, and Jeon Chang's Gwak Do-heung were about the same level, and it hadn't been some brutal deathmatch anyway.
In the end, the complaints must have come from Kunlun, who lost to Neung Pung-yeon or Gwak Do-heung, but my gut was screaming it was Neung Pung-yeon who was suspicious.
"W-well, this little monk will be going now..."
Realizing I'd seen right through him from my expression, the Shaolin monk bolted like his life depended on it.
It didn't really matter anyway. The date wasn't pushed back, just the time slot a bit.
I only felt a slight twinge of regret.
The others seemed pretty skilled too, and Neung Pung-yeon wouldn't have an easy win, so it should be fine.
Damn it, that's not it at all?
"Heh, it looks like Brother Neung's skills went beyond what he showed last time. Or maybe he gained some major insights that day?"
Do Yeo-jung, who had been eliminated in the first round and only spectating from the waiting room since, sounded casually impressed.
But with his eyes, he was signaling me: Doesn't something seem off to you?
Neung Pung-yeon was matched against Namgung Chang. They'd apparently flipped a coin to pair up, and with only four people, it seemed like a decent lineup.
Shaolin had smoothly beaten Kunlun first, so I figured Neung Pung-yeon vs. Namgung Chang would be similar...
But every time Huashan's Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Swordsmanship swirled into motion, the Namgung family's Soaring Palace Swordsmanship couldn't extend its reach and got pushed back.
[Something's fishy... I heard Huashan was the one who demanded this match. Did they have some hidden trump card?]
[Nah, no way. If they did, they'd have used it against me.]
I might have bought it if he'd gained enlightenment and showed off more refined techniques.
Martial arts don't change overnight from a single epiphany out of nowhere, but with a solid foundation, one could make significant progress.
But that was just raw internal energy. At that level, he was either on par with me or even superior.
'Internal energy that didn't exist suddenly appearing?'
Setting aside special cases like mine, there was only one way to boost internal energy that drastically.
Elixir herbs.
"Oh dear."
At Do Yeo-jung's sigh, I looked back at the arena. Namgung Chang's sword had parried five out of six plum blossoms, but missed the last one.
And in the next instant, Neung Pung-yeon's sword—clustered with plum blossom sword qi—halted right before Namgung Chang's heart.
"...I lose."
"Thanks for yielding."
Namgung Chang gritted his teeth and admitted defeat, while Neung Pung-yeon smugly sheathed his sword.
As Neung Pung-yeon descended the arena amid cheers from the crowd, our eyes met.
His brimming confidence suggested something big had indeed changed...
'Huh?'
The moment he brushed past me, I sensed an energy I'd felt before.
An energy that felt even more repulsive now, perhaps because of the circumstances.
[Brother Do.]
Do Yeo-jung replied without turning his head to my transmission.
[What's up?]
It sounded ridiculous, but just to check, I asked anyway.
[Is there such a thing as a drug that mixes demonic energy into your internal energy to massively boost your true qi?]
The aura radiating from Neung Pung-yeon was unmistakably demonic energy.
The exact same as that bastard from the Sichuan assassin group who attacked me.
Zhuge Mi-ryeong watched her son take the stage. He had already reached the goal he'd set for himself.
She'd worried he might forfeit before it even started, given his disinterest in honor, but thankfully that hadn't happened.
"Looks like Yun won't beat Peng Wol, huh?"
"Probably. As long as he doesn't get hurt..."
Her husband, Go Cheon, was chatting amiably beside her.
His attitude had grown even friendlier since yesterday morning, when he'd mistakenly thought she'd spent the night with Zhuge Mi-ryeong.
She could still vividly recall him bursting into that hearty laugh, calling it unseemly for their age.
Suppressing the welling guilt, Zhuge Mi-ryeong turned to watch Peng Wol ascending from the opposite side.
A massive blade, a physique like a divine king.
Her son had a fairly large build himself, but he looked downright slender next to Peng Wol.
The match began, and the two clashed immediately.
Compared to Peng Wol's sluggish movements, her son closed in with blinding speed, unleashing a barrage of punches.
Three punches writhing endlessly, unpredictable in direction, eventually converged into one, aiming for Peng Wol's shoulder.
But Peng Wol anticipated it, twisting the long hilt of his heavy blade to block the strike.
A horizontal sweep followed, but her son ducked low and pressed closer instead.
"This won't do..."
Zhuge Mi-ryeong nodded at Go Cheon's sighing voice.
Her son might put up a decent showing, but he was firmly in Peng Wol's grasp.
"Faithful heavy blade with follow-up preemption... It's like a fortress."
A heavy blade's devastating power meant nothing if it didn't connect. That was why the sacrificed speed felt regrettable.
But when combined with the subtlety of follow-up preemption, the heavy blade's weakness was greatly mitigated.
This principle—striking first despite starting later—didn't mean moving faster than the opponent.
It was about reading their movements, exploiting them to expose vulnerabilities, and making their attacks miss on their own.
"Yun's grasped the general flow of the Five Tiger Gate Swordsmanship to some extent, yet the gap is still this wide..."
"If knowing the flow meant full mastery, it wouldn't be peak-level skill."
The silver lining was that Peng Wol showed no intent to use vicious techniques.
Thanks to that, her son could fully demonstrate his abilities.
Still, every time that hefty blade swung toward him, Zhuge Mi-ryeong's hands trembled, even knowing he'd be fine.
Go Cheon reached out with his thick hand and gripped hers firmly.
"Don't worry too much. You can see it too, can't you, dear? Peng Wol will stop at the right point, so no need to fret."
His warm words stirred fresh guilt in Zhuge Mi-ryeong.
She knew all too well that the trembling wasn't solely a mother's worry.
"I lose."
"Thanks for yielding."
In the end, I had to surrender to Peng Wol without landing a single solid hit.
I'd squeezed every last drop of energy, but my attacks only grazed him four times.
And those, battered by his blade wind into something weaker than a mosquito bite, couldn't pierce his protective qi.
"Still, that's pretty good for you, bro. When I buy the consolation drinks tonight, I'll throw in some pricey snacks too."
"I'll gladly take you up on that."
I'd dodged most of his attacks, at least. It felt hollow that jumping around like a maniac had only gotten me that far.
Descending the arena amicably with Peng Wol, I watched the next match between Wudang's Gyeon Yong-jin and Jeon Chang's Gwak Do-heung, recalling my conversation with Do Yeo-jung before heading up.
<Demonic energy...? What are you talking about?>
<You might not sense it, Brother Do, but it's coming off Neung Pung-yeon.>
At my insistence, Do Yeo-jung finally said he'd look into it and left.
Whenever our eyes met Neung Pung-yeon's, his smug confidence made me wonder: Did he not know he was leaking demonic energy, or was he that sure he wouldn't get caught?
"He probably doesn't even realize it himself."
"Huh?"
I looked up in surprise at Peng Wol's sudden words.
"That Gwak guy over there—his sword's too hasty. He was taught better than that."
In martial theory, speed and weight were opposites. Paradoxically, that meant experts knew exactly when each was most troublesome.
"Isn't faster better?"
"It's not about being actually fast. It's making the opponent perceive you as fast and unable to respond to the attack."
I found myself listening intently to Peng Wol's explanation.
"What is martial arts? Strip away the fluff about imitating animals or borrowing nature's principles—it's about efficiently landing attacks on the opponent."
Peng Wol's blunt lecture began there.
"Speed is fast. But a sword that rushes in relentlessly without variation lets the opponent adapt, analyze it. Then what?"
At that moment, Gyeon Yong-jin's Pine Gate Ancient Sword drew precise lines, weaving a net in the air.
As if answering Peng Wol, the Taiji Wisdom Sword enveloped Gwak Do-heung's lopsided Four-Day Swordsmanship, and their blades halted.
Gyeon Yong-jin's sword poised right beside Gwak Do-heung's throat.
"He got led around. Served up nice and neat."
Peng Wol's gaze burned with competitive fire toward Gyeon Yong-jin, who met it steadily after accepting Gwak Do-heung's surrender.
What is this, some sports anime protagonists?
Anyway, excluding Neung Pung-yeon, the Nine Dragons were decided just as everyone expected.
And as Peng Wol foretold, that evening a drinking party was set at a tavern called Hua Hua House.
I seriously considered skipping, but ended up going anyway.
Connections were valuable anywhere in the world.
Still, to make a point, I said I'd handle some urgent business first and secretly slipped back home for a deep, intense round with Mother.
If she got pregnant, we might not be able to until the stable phase, so every day counted.
Thanks to that, I arrived at the tavern alone, but being famous made it easy to find.
'See? Found it quick.'
Taking a deep breath in front of the building aglow with lanterns, I was about to enter.
[Young Hero Kang.]
It was Do Yeo-jung's voice. Scanning around since I couldn't pinpoint the source, I spotted him in a dark alley, beckoning me.
'Why's he in a place like that?'
I walked over thoughtlessly, but the moment my foot hit the alley, chills ran up my spine, and I froze.
The boundary between light and shadow under my foot.
Why call me here?
Do Yeo-jung's expression grew urgent, waving frantically, but I started backing away slowly.
But my steps halted abruptly.
Thud.
As if it had never been attached, Do Yeo-jung's head fell off—followed by an overwhelming pressure crashing toward me.
A pressure worlds apart from Peng Yeon-hwa's test back when we first met, terrifying in its intensity.
[Welcome, Master of the Blood Demon Divine Art.]
Trapped like in a typhoon, the voice from the darkness beyond sounded chillingly cold.
Running would mean death. I couldn't help but realize that.