Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: The Murim Alliance Leader and the Murim Alliance Leader
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Dragon Phoenix Tournament. A grand martial arts tournament where the young prodigies of each sect compete, so prestigious that merely placing in the top ranks spreads your name across the entire murim.
Additionally, the winner is granted the privilege of choosing one of the Murim Alliance's secret treasures to take home.
Items like a sword forged from millennium cold iron, Shaolin's Great Return Pill, millennium spirit herbs such as the eternal flame flower or thousand-year tortoise shell—those are known to be among the treasures.
Of course, those seriously aiming for victory number no more than three or four at best. The rest are either here to gain some fame or simply to prove their own skills.
Eligibility is limited to young prodigies, so participants can't be over thirty, and each sect can send only one representative.
Because of that, the Dragon Phoenix Tournament has often devolved into a stage for psychological warfare between sects since ancient times.
There are sixteen participants in total this year. I heard the preliminaries mixed everyone together regardless of sect.
In my previous life, I was too busy scraping by to even know such a tournament existed, let alone participate.
So this is essentially my first time competing.
"Very well, the Dragon Phoenix Tournament will now commence!!"
The announcer's passionate shout drew cheers from the spectators. Applause and roars erupted from all around.
The sixteen young prodigies, myself included, stood atop the platform. Among them were a few familiar faces.
There was that madman from the Namgung family I'd seen before, along with folks from Shaolin, Wudang, and even a beggar from the Beggars' Sect.
Mixed in were some guys I'd personally sent to the afterlife in my previous life. Seeing them again stirred a flood of emotions.
"Before the tournament begins, a special request: words of encouragement from the Murim Alliance Leader, who has graciously joined us today."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than an extraordinary aura emanated from the back of the arena.
An overwhelming presence impossible to believe came from a single human.
Every participant on the platform, myself included, felt their grips tighten involuntarily.
It was the same suffocating tension I'd felt in my previous life when facing the Demonic Cult Leader for the first time.
"Waaaaah!!"
Amid the crowd's roars, a figure appeared from the sky.
The man who suddenly materialized in the air above the arena began stepping on empty space, walking through the void step by step.
Void Treading Steps.
A realm where one forms qi into platforms to walk freely through the air.
It surpasses the pinnacle realm said to exceed human limits—a supreme technique wielded only by those who transcend humanity itself.
The man soon reached the ground and slowly turned toward the spectators.
"I am Yi Hyeonbaek, Leader of the Murim Alliance."
His greeting was concise yet resonant. It was barely above a whisper, yet everyone in the vast arena heard it clearly.
Just hearing his voice made everyone feel the weight of his presence on their skin.
Presence. It was as if the sheer mass of his existence infused the sound.
This was the man said to be closest to the World's Greatest in the current era.
The pinnacle of the righteous Murim Alliance, yet called the Tyrannical Heavenly Martial Emperor.
Murim Alliance Leader, Tyrannical Heavenly Martial Emperor Yi Hyeonbaek.
Another name for him: World's Greatest Swordsman.
Even I, who had commanded the Dragon Phoenix Corps in my previous life, knew little about the current Murim Alliance Leader, Yi Hyeonbaek.
I'd never crossed paths with him outside official events, and by the time the war ended, he'd already passed away.
All I knew was that he'd sacrificed his life to repel the Demonic Cult's invasion and died heroically.
He was the man who ascended to Alliance Leader at the youngest age ever and ruled as leader for eighty long years—the World's Greatest Prodigy, a sword master who etched his name into history.
He had countless titles, but to me, he always seemed like a profoundly lonely old man.
Someone who longed for death, desperately awaiting his final battle with the Demonic Cult Leader.
"Words of encouragement? I'm no good with speeches, so perhaps actions speak louder than words."
A hundred hearings are no match for one sight, huh? With a mere gesture from the Leader, the two swords strapped to his back floated into the air.
One with a pitch-black blade that absorbed all light, the other with a transparent white edge gleaming brightly.
His divine weapons: Ganjang and Makya.
With another gesture, the floating swords moved as if possessed by their own will, performing swordsmanship in midair.
This was no mere telekinesis. It was as if two invisible sword masters wielded them.
The realm where one controls swords with qi alone: Sword Control Art.
Even historical greats couldn't wield two swords at once this way. It was a technique beyond human comprehension.
Perhaps possible only because he originally trained in dual-wielding.
Shring.
As the two swords danced in the air, the Leader drew yet another sword from his waist.
He then unleashed swordsmanship with the sword in his hand alongside the Sword Control Art.
Already, controlling two swords was like seeing front and back at once, defying common sense.
But to wield yet another in hand? What kind of monster was he? Could you even call that human?
In the utter silence without even a breath, the sound of his sword slicing the wind echoed.
Everyone in the arena watched, entranced, as his swordplay mimicked three peerless masters striking simultaneously.
Clack.
Even after he sheathed his sword, the arena filled only with the sound of spectators swallowing hard.
Clap, clap-clap, clap-clap-clap-clap.
As some regained their senses and began applauding, the sound spread throughout the stands in response.
"Woooow!!"
The applause turned to cheers, then roars, as people leaped to their feet, screaming until their throats gave out. The echoes reverberated.
Who could blame them after witnessing such swordsmanship up close?
World's Greatest Swordsman—his skills truly had no equal under heaven.
Even looking across a thousand years of murim history, no swordsman surpassed him.
In my previous life, I couldn't even gauge if I could beat him.
His swordsmanship transcended reason, existing in another dimension altogether.
"I hope this sword aids the young ones who will shoulder the next generation."
With that, the Leader turned and returned to his seat at the highest point of the stands.
Flanking him were the heads of the Murim Alliance's Five Great Sects, with other participating sects seated below.
Baek Eunhwa was there too, her face veiled with a silk scarf over her hairpin.
Since the Lower Five Gates had sent a participant and held an unofficial alliance with the Murim Alliance, they'd been invited despite not being righteous sects.
Anyway, those Murim Alliance old fogeys love their official tournaments and formalities. Even an unofficial alliance needs a public show to satisfy them.
What a bunch of idiots.
"Our thanks to the Leader for his words. Let the tournament officially begin!"
As the announcer spoke, I could feel the participants' grips tightening.
Having seen the Leader's sword, their fighting spirits boiled over—they wanted to charge out and clash blades right then.
Even my own hands itched unbearably.
"First match: Shaolin Temple's second-generation disciple Mugak versus the Murim Alliance representative Namgung Cheon!"
A familiar name reached my ears.
So he entered after all.
I thought the Namgung family sending that madman meant he wouldn't participate, but it seems he's representing the Murim Alliance, not his clan.
Entering under the Alliance's banner instead of his family's—quite the confidence.
After the current Leader Yi Hyeonbaek's death, he'd claimed the vacant throne and become the hero of the righteous Murim Alliance for a decade.
The final Leader of the Murim Alliance, who lost his life to the Blood Demon's blade: Righteous Sword Namgung Cheon.
In my previous life, he was the man who killed me.
"Waaaaah!!"
Amid the crowd's cheers, the bald Shaolin monk and the still-youthful-faced Namgung Cheon ascended the arena stage.
Even back then, I'd thought Namgung Cheon had good looks, but seeing him young, his annoyingly handsome face grated even more.
If he ends up as my opponent, I'll smash my fist right into that pretty mug.
"Even as fellow Five Great Sects, I won't hold back."
The bald monk took his stance first and beckoned Namgung Cheon with a finger.
In response, Namgung Cheon silently drew his sword, closed his eyes slowly, and said nothing.
Not blinded by the light off that bald head, I hope. More like, "I don't need to see to beat you."
"This is..."
The monk, provoked and ready to charge, hesitated mid-step.
Namgung Cheon's razor-sharp pressure. Even from afar, I could feel it—the monk couldn't muster the courage to advance.
And that split-second hesitation decided the match.
Emperor Sword Art, Fifth Form: Wind God Sword.
The moment his sword tip moved, Namgung Cheon vanished like the wind, his blade suddenly at the monk's throat.
One exchange. To the crowd, it looked like the monk had no chance to block before the sword reached him.
But the monk did block it. Precisely, he successfully deflected the blade.
With qi-wrapped hand, he slapped away the incoming sword—then Namgung Cheon twisted his trajectory mid-motion, spinning into a follow-up strike that ended it.
And through the final moment, Namgung Cheon's eyes remained closed.
"...I concede defeat."
Only after the monk admitted loss did Namgung Cheon open his eyes and sheathe his sword.
"Namgung Cheon! Namgung Cheon! Namgung Cheon!"
His name echoed through the arena.
In a single match, he'd imprinted himself as a top contender in everyone's minds.
A one-sided beatdown where his opponent couldn't even compete.
The monk wasn't weak. Namgung Cheon was simply beyond specs.
He was already beyond what young prodigies could handle.
"How the hell do you beat something like that...?"
Whispers spread among the watching participants.
Unhak stared at Namgung Cheon without blinking, visibly tense.
No matter how strong Unhak had grown, beating him like this would be tough.
In terms of pure talent, Namgung Cheon ranked among the greatest Dragon Phoenix Tournament winners ever.
But in my previous life, he didn't win this tournament.
Because the black dragon quietly preparing its ascent from the deep well had transformed into a true dragon unbeknownst to all and was now among us.
"Next match: Wudang's Cheongbaek Taoist versus Swift Sword Sect's Yuseongil!"
The hidden dragon stretched and began to rise.