Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Vanquishing the Black Tortoise Blade
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I was surprised.
It felt like something huge suddenly swelled up explosively.
But Han Taeseok was an outstanding master of elastic strength, befitting the Chief Instructor of the Warrior Unit.
He was a famed blade master known to anyone as the Sichuan Black Tortoise Blade of the current martial world, and his fist techniques were equally first-rate.
He was only slightly taken aback, but his response was impeccably skillful.
Matching the speed of Cheongu's incoming charge, he swiftly created distance, then thrust out the hand drawn to his waist.
The target was Cheongu's right armpit. But the thick arms Cheongu had crossed spread rapidly to both sides.
Crack!
Cheongu smacked away Han Taeseok's hand and immediately thrust his head forward.
Seven Stars Fist, a variation of Mountain Covering Wall.
He never imagined the technique meant for shoulders or back would be unleashed with the head, leaving him no choice but to panic.
Clang!
The fierce sound conveyed the impact's intensity. Even without infused internal energy, it reverberated through the training ground.
'Ugh!'
Han Taeseok's face twisted in pain.
In that critical moment, he pressed down on Cheongu's head with his hand and kicked backward with both feet, yet his body was shoved back over a foot.
If this kept up, he'd be humiliated before everyone, so Han Taeseok tried to retreat while forcefully pinning Cheongu's head.
"......!"
There was no sensation of compression.
Cheongu's head, halted by his hand, suddenly dipped downward. Then, inverting like a handstand, he whipped his feet upward.
It was Dragon Riding Retreat.
To dodge the unforeseen attack, Han Taeseok's waist snapped back sharply.
And leveraging that surge, Cheongu's twin hands soared as he leaped airborne.
'Damn! The waist!'
Han Taeseok twisted his waist in haste.
The instant the red sash was snatched, the test would end. He had no plans to yield it easily.
But.
Thud!
The palms he assumed targeted his waist hurtled toward his chest instead.
A throbbing shock. His balance crumbled from bending backward.
'Not going for the sash?'
He was certain it would.
Yet Cheongu targeted him directly, not the sash.
Spinning midair like a top before kicking, relentlessly striking vital points across his body. Movements far too nimble for that hefty frame.
And.
'What's with this speed!'
The motions were concise, direct-line assaults.
No initial feints to scatter focus—it advanced a step ahead of expectation, extending strikes.
'Huh!'
Surprise was inevitable.
What Cheongu wielded wasn't the commonplace Seven Stars Fist. Punches and kicks tailored perfectly to his build—his unique martial art.
He rolled on the ground without hesitation when needed, and swift attacks invariably followed each tumble.
Cheongu poured everything in now. Not merely to seize the sash, but as if intent on victory.
Pow! Bang!
Exclamations erupted from spectators with every clash.
Instructors mid-test and examinees alike halted, riveted on the duel.
'You bastard, aiming to win? A Wudang Second Generation Disciple over me?'
Han Taeseok finally conceded to Cheongu.
The form was Wudang's Seven Stars Fist, yet application differed vastly—unorthodox, straightforward, supremely effective.
However.
'Hmph, the unqualified can never pass the Warrior Unit test!'
Han Taeseok's movements shifted.
He abandoned the sash. Meeting the opponent's victory lust, he'd crush him outright.
Freed from that restraint, even one-armed, Han Taeseok unleashed his prowess, flipping the momentum instantly.
Thud!
A fist burrowed into Cheongu's belly flab.
Dong!
Kicks battering his frame multiplied.
"Will he be alright?"
Zhuge Sansan asked worriedly from the side, but Cheongsang remained impassive.
"That much won't faze him."
"Pardon?"
"More like, that guy's using his wits well."
"......"
Zhuge Sansan sensed bewilderment at Cheongsang's assured look.
'Right. Hits like that are nothing.'
Cheongu was unfazed.
Versus Jinmu's blows, it paled beside what Cheongsang endured.
Jinmu's taps pierced bone-deep—that's what Cheongu withstood.
Head a tad dim, but body-honed skill remained untapped.
Then suddenly, Cheongu faltered, exposing a gap.
'You rascal, that your scheme?'
Onlookers chalked it to cumulative damage, but Cheongsang smiled faintly.
"It's over!"
Seizing the breach, Han Taeseok's fist arced wider than before.
That instant, Cheongu's body plunged into Han Taeseok's guard like it awaited.
"Hmph!"
As if foreseeing it, Han Taeseok stomped firmly, punching outward.
Smack!
Fist smashing Cheongu's jaw underside.
Done. All presumed so.
Yet as his face wrenched from the hit, a crafty curve graced Cheongu's lips.
He countered twist for twist.
Matching the impact's path to blunt it, then crumpling sideways onto Han Taeseok.
Crash roll.
Cheongu tumbled roughly across the dirt.
And gripped in his fist: the red sash.
"......"
Han Taeseok gawked vacantly, locked in strike pose.
"Uh... did I pass?"
"......"
Sash the true goal from start, not triumph? Endured pummeling to foster overconfidence?
And that face? Grinning shock-free amid the barrage?
Han Taeseok stifled a bitter chuckle. Utterly bested.
"Well done. You pass."
Cheongu's test concluded, brief respite followed.
Cheongsang's ensuing trial stunned onlookers.
Sword versus blade.
Wudang Second Generation Disciple against Sichuan Black Tortoise Blade Han Taeseok.
"......"
Han Taeseok stood speechless.
Unlike ground-rolling Cheongu, Cheongsang poised rigidly, wooden sword slung back.
Severed red sash fragments littered the floor by his blade.
"Hmm, Chief Instructor held back too much."
"True. Tested skill, got schooled instead."
Onlooker murmurs drifted. But Han Taeseok hadn't slacked foolishly.
No intent to gauge prowess depth even.
How to accept this?
One-handed spar, ended in ten exchanges flat.
Cheongsang's Flowing Cloud Sword Art.
Seemed thrusting swift—vanished. Then struck from unforeseen angle.
Not Cheongu-variable. Purely pragmatic, minimally efficient.
No fluke loss—pure defeat.
Tactics undid him to Cheongu; skill to Cheongsang.
Internal energy would've assured win, but technique? Loss.
Sichuan-famed elastic master to mere-thirties Wudang Second Generation.
"Pass?"
Cheongsang queried most deferentially.
"Ha, pass."
"Thank you."
Han Taeseok mirrored the light bow and smile unwittingly.
"Whoa, impressive. Sichuan Black Tortoise Blade down in ten moves."
"Hmm."
A hall spaced from the Warrior Unit tests.
Dragon Peak Pavilion Master's office overlooked the full training ground; three gathered within.
"Wudang quiet so long. Didn't expect such talents nurtured. Amid standouts, Wudang disciples shine brightest."
"No wonder millennium Wudang. Decline talk aside, their reserves unignorable."
Grand Marshal Zhuge Hyeopjin clucked tongue; Dang Yeopyeong nodded.
"Checked: Jinmu Taoist Priest included, all from Wudang Five Dragon Palace."
"Five Dragon Palace? Wudang's famed guardian?"
"Yes. Formerly so; now doubles as South Ink Palace's sword role."
"Ah, right. Jinmu holds Wudang Ground Sword title after all."
"And Palace Master is Myeongjin Taoist Priest."
"What? Myeongjin? Jinmu's master then?"
Zhuge Hyeopjin's words widened Dang Yeopyeong's eyes in shock.
"Heh, so it was. Post-incident cripple, yet disciples so superbly raised. Right, Alliance Leader?"
At Dang Yeopyeong's query, present Cheol Jiryang nodded.
Wudang's Myeongjin.
Youthful prime promised much.
Now cripple, name faded; contemporaries remembered well.
Even dread Lord of Evil Hegemony Heaven Hyeokryeon Mugang yielded to his spirit, turning back—legendary tale.
Old though it be.
"Seeing them, Wudang may reclaim Mount Tai North Dipper status."
Dang Yeopyeong beamed proprietarily.
"Alliance Leader, thoughts? Dip into Wudang's rise?"
"Dip?"
"Yes."
"Hmm."
Cheol Jiryang eyed below-hall Wudang disciple Cheongsang intently at Dang Yeopyeong's words.
Prime swordsman. Obscure to most, clear to him.
Thirties Wudang Taoist matched famed Black Tortoise Blade's insight.
Wielded sword potential adeptly. Self-perfected its flaws too.
Cheongsang's Flowing Cloud Sword Art.
Cheol Jiryang knew its flaw: lower guard frailty. Wudang mixed legwork, footwork to mend.
Cheongsang sealed it pure sword art. Simplified to nix change-gaps.
Rooted in Wudang Flowing Cloud, birthed novel swordsmanship.
Enviable talent, per Dang Yeopyeong. Teachably malleable.
'Hmm, disciple... Watch for now. Gauge growth.'
Cheol Jiryang's lip corner slyly curled.
Meantime, Dang Yeopyeong queried Zhuge Hyeopjin.
"Progress on B Unit test prep?"
"Starts soon as Bi-hyeon returns."
"Hm, evaluate B Unit kids via lessons henceforth?"
"Yes. Till test."
"Heh, ingenious method. Group testing. Examinees informed?"
"Not yet."
"Skills disparate; grouping time-consuming."
"Yes. Pavilion Master burdened."
"Indeed."
"Yes."
"Pity. Skill-wise, Wudang kids separate from Sansan inevitably."
"True. Exceptionally elite."
Zhuge Hyeopjin nodded to Dang Yeopyeong. But test-ground-gazing Cheol Jiryang spoke softly.
"Grand Marshal."
"Yes, Alliance Leader."
"Not grouping now—worry your clan daughter first."
"Pardon?"
Zhuge Hyeopjin puzzled; Cheol Jiryang chinned outward.
"Han Taeseok looks quite pissed."
"......?"
"Next examinee: your clan daughter."
"......!"