Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Feels Awfully Familiar
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Damn it.
Did I really have time to notice something like that when I was so busy and on edge?
Han Ibi looked around and saw the crowd of martial artists all hurrying into motion.
Of course, their destination was the Qingcheng Sect's dining hall...
"Whew."
The tension drained from him, and he let out a long sigh without realizing it.
That's when Bok Yeon-hwa spoke up.
"You need to eat just the right amount—not too little, not too much."
Han Ibi caught her meaning and replied.
"Ah, yes. Got it, Master."
Meals shouldn't affect the duel, after all.
Han Ibi said,
"S-so, we can head to the dining hall now, right?"
So Eun-ri shot him a glare and snapped,
"What the hell are you thinking? The duelists' meals are prepared separately in that tent over there. So they don't interfere with the matches."
Come to think of it, there was something like that...
What considerate hosts they were.
'Whew...'
At least he'd gotten a chance to catch his breath.
The lunch, prepared like a bento box, turned out to be fried rice.
It was simple to eat but packed with enough calories to fuel a duel. They'd clearly put thought into it.
Of course, as a special meal for the competitors, it was made with care—but Han Ibi, his mind racing with thoughts of the next match, barely registered the taste, unsure if it was going in through his mouth or his nose.
Then, suddenly, forgotten memories bubbled up.
'Right. The order changed from the original story, so I didn't remember. There was a brief mention in Dream of the Ant Snake about eating before the sect leader candidate duel... Ahh. But why has the plot twisted like this? Why did I end up in the main event...'
Another thought struck him.
Pfft!
The rice in Han Ibi's mouth suddenly sprayed into the air.
At the same time, So Eun-ri wrinkled her nose and yelled,
"What the hell? Ugh! Disgusting!"
A few clumps of rice, mashed by Han Ibi's teeth, had splattered onto her clothes.
Panicking, Han Ibi clasped his hands together in apology.
"Sorry, Miss So. I was so nervous while eating that it got stuck in my throat all of a sudden."
What could anyone do? A competitor on the verge of a major bout had to eat somehow...
So Eun-ri flicked off the grains like they were bugs, her face twisted in revulsion.
But in that moment,
Han Ibi couldn't calm his pounding heart.
He'd remembered the Qingcheng Sect Leader Selection Tournament arc from Dream of the Ant Snake.
In the original story, after a fierce battle, Bok Yeon-hwa defeated Nam Cheol-hong.
And timed perfectly with the winner's announcement, the hosts prepared a little event.
Confetti poppers burst to celebrate the new Qingcheng Sect Leader.
They scattered talismans everywhere like it was an elementary school sports day.
But in the novel, this was a crucial plot point.
The poppers released poison that spread through the air.
That kicked off one of the few suspenseful moments in the otherwise dull original storyline.
Mysterious black-clad assailants launched a sudden attack.
Han Ibi realized,
'This isn't the time to be leisurely eating!'
He scraped the remaining rice into his mouth in one go.
So Eun-ri, watching him, edged away in case he erupted like a volcano again.
Han Ibi shot to his feet. Bok Yeon-hwa, who had been eating quietly, asked,
"Where do you think you're going?"
Han Ibi scratched his head and said,
"I should probably take care of some business before the duel."
Bok Yeon-hwa gave a faint nod. Approval, most likely...
Han Ibi hurried off, scanning around for the confetti poppers.
He soon spotted them.
'That's definitely it!'
Yes.
The event poppers were installed on the watchtower near the VIP seats.
Not used often, but...
The Qingcheng Sect was a proper martial sect, after all.
They had all the standard setups.
This internal surveillance tower was no exception.
He dashed over quickly, then scanned busily in every direction.
Luckily, the VIPs seemed to be away at lunch.
Mindful of watchful eyes, Han Ibi climbed the watchtower as stealthily as possible.
He spotted the thin strings tying the poppers together.
They'd surely cut them with a sword when the winner was declared.
As Han Ibi racked his brain on how to disable them without setting them off,
A quiet but firm voice whispered into his ear.
"Aren't you one of the final duelists?"
Gasp... Who... I'm screwed.
Han Ibi stiffly turned his head.
A middle-aged man in black robes stood right behind him.
Wondering if it was some senior organizer he didn't know, Han Ibi forced a polite expression.
"Y-yes, that's me..."
The man smirked and said,
"So what exactly are you doing here?"
Gasp, but this guy... he looks familiar somehow. Where have I seen him...?
"Oh, uh... Haha. Just checking the confetti poppers, you know, just in case."
The man let out a creepy chuckle.
"Haha. Checking confetti poppers... With so many Qingcheng disciples around, why would a duelist in a major match be doing such menial work?"
Han Ibi was at a loss for words.
Then the black-robed middle-aged man said,
"You came rushing over here in such a hurry... Looking for something?"
"N-no, nothing like that..."
Suddenly, it hit Han Ibi where he'd seen the man before—his face froze involuntarily.
That's right.
This was the mysterious man who'd come looking for the imprisoned Song Myeong-cheon!
He looked a bit older, but it was definitely him!
'Why the hell is this guy here?'
The man said,
"Anyway, do your inspection or whatever and get lost. I don't care."
Han Ibi's heart clenched like it might burst.
But his gut screamed not to act suspicious, so he forced a casual expression.
"No need. They look fine, so I'll head down now."
'Damn it. I don't know his skill level, but from his actions, he's probably a top-tier master. Duel or no duel, I need to fetch Bok Yeon-hwa at least.'
As he turned to descend the tower,
The man burst into laughter.
"Huh, didn't peg you for the careless type. Turning your back on a stranger without knowing if they're friend or foe."
Startled, Han Ibi whipped around.
In that instant, he saw the man's finger.
The man thrust his extended right index finger straight at Han Ibi's solar plexus.
Han Ibi flinched and quickly activated his Bagua Array.
But...
No recommended evasion directions appeared on the Bagua Array.
Meaning he couldn't block it!
Desperate, he twisted his upper body back to dodge—
But in a flash, the man's finger plunged toward his lower dantian.
Han Ibi flung out his arm in alarm, but the man's speed defied imagination.
"Gah!"
Han Ibi exhaled sharply without thinking.
The man's finger had pierced his dantian precisely.
An excruciating pain surged through him, his meridians twisting in agony all at once.
His vision went black...
Just like that, Han Ibi lost consciousness without a chance to resist.
Han Ibi opened his eyes.
"Ugh!"
He groaned involuntarily and bolted upright.
'What... what the hell happened?'
Dazed,
he first checked his surroundings.
Incredibly—or perhaps predictably—he was collapsed on the watchtower.
'How did this happen? Was it all a dream?'
Han Ibi couldn't make sense of it.
Then he spotted the popper nearby.
Whatever had happened, he had a job to do.
He approached the confetti popper slowly, drew his dagger, and carefully cut the tying string.
Worried it might go off, he held his breath...
Han Ibi peeked inside.
There was...
Just a pile of talismans.
'Damn...'
Nothing suspicious.
He took a tiny breath and checked his body.
Nothing happened.
'No, this can't be...'
Tilting his head, he retied the string extra securely, ensuring it wouldn't come loose.
As he pondered further,
A loud voice rang out from somewhere.
"The third and final duel will begin shortly. Competitors, please assemble at the arena!"
Yes, Seo Ui-jae's voice.
Without a second thought, Han Ibi leaped down from the tower.
He dashed toward Bok Yeon-hwa and So Eun-ri using lightness skill, panting heavily.
"Huff huff huff."
Having rushed so frantically, Han Ibi stuck out his tongue and gasped.
So Eun-ri glared venomously.
"What? Why are you so late?"
An idea struck Han Ibi. He clutched his lower abdomen and said,
"Ugh! I was so nervous my stomach cramped up, and it just wouldn't come out."
So Eun-ri cocked her head.
"What wouldn't come out?"
Han Ibi rubbed his belly vigorously.
"You don't get it? Do I have to spell it out... Agh!"
He cried out involuntarily.
His hand had brushed his lower dantian, unleashing searing pain.
'What... what is this?'
Bok Yeon-hwa barked,
"What nonsense is that? Not ready yet?"
Han Ibi jumped.
"No, no! I'm ready now. All clear. Completely empty. Haha."
Seo Ui-jae's voice boomed again.
"Competitors, proceed to the arena once prepared."
Bok Yeon-hwa said,
"Hurry up and get up there!"
Han Ibi nodded, stroking the Frost Bird Sword he'd stored away.
It already felt familiar, affectionate even.
But Qingcheng Sect tradition dictated surrendering weapons to the hosts during such duels.
More precisely, all participants—guests and hosts alike—surrendered their weapons beforehand.
Except the duelists!
Their little privilege...
He handed the Frost Bird Sword to a young Qingcheng disciple collecting them.
'Anyway, today's wooden swords only... No need for real blades.'
He took the wooden sword from So Eun-ri and slowly ascended the arena.
Seong Chun-don was already there.
He wore a relaxed yet cruel smile, like a starving predator eyeing prey...
Han Ibi shivered involuntarily and began circulating his internal energy.
Of course, his most reliable Zhongli Pure Heart Method.
Swordsmanship would mimic Qingcheng style, but internal energy—something you couldn't learn overnight—still relied on the Zhongli Clan's foundation.
That's when it happened.
'Urgh!'
Han Ibi screamed inwardly without realizing it.