With That Level of Skill? (3)
One strike?
Shock flickered through Tang Jan’s eyes.
One strike. It had been nothing but one strike.
His gaze dropped to Tang Ho, sprawled unconscious on the ground.
How did this happen?
Tang Ho might have been a little weaker than Tang Jan, but he was still the son of the Sichuan Tang Family head. He was not someone some nobody could just beat down. No, it would be more accurate to say he was not weak anywhere.
And yet there he was, knocked out by a single blow and lying on the floor in an undignified heap.
Had he let his guard down?
That might have been true.
But that alone did not absolve the situation. Striking at an opening when your opponent was careless was also a skill.
Tang Jan opened his mouth a few times as if to say something, then shut it again in the end.
There was no point in saying anything now.
Unlike Tang Jan, who was doing his best to hide his bewilderment, Jo Gul’s face was faintly flushed.
Whoa, how…!
Tang Ho lying on the floor entered his sight.
A direct descendant of the Tang Family.
To the Jo Gul of the past, he had been an insurmountable wall, a fate-like existence he would have to shoulder for the rest of his life.
But now that wall had crumbled.
With joy and excitement mixing on his face, Jo Gul tightened his grip on the sword hilt.
And at that moment—
“Neeeext?”
“…”
That crooked voice stabbed into Jo Gul’s ears.
Don’t turn around. Don’t you dare look back.
He could already picture the way his martial brothers were staring at him from behind. He could not afford to show the pack of jackals even the smallest opening.
“Look at him, acting like some sword god.”
“All flash and no substance!”
“That one, that one needs to be beaten more.”
How heartwarming.
It was so heartwarming sweat practically welled up on its own.
I am absolutely not making eye contact with them for a while.
Because if he did…
“Nnnnnext?”
“…”
One person in particular, he would avoid even if it killed him.
Jo Gul coughed awkwardly, shaking off his embarrassment, then raised his sword and pointed it straight at Tang Jan.
“Are you not coming?”
“…”
The one who bristled at that was not Tang Jan, but Dang Myung, who stood at his side.
“How dare you!”
Grinding his teeth, Dang Myung stepped forward—but a hand in green silk gloves cut him off.
“Brother?”
Tang Jan looked at Dang Myung with cold, composed eyes.
“Step back.”
“But that brat is far too insolent—”
“He is not your opponent.”
Dang Myung’s eyes flew wide open.
He was not foolish enough to miss what Tang Jan’s words meant. Glancing back and forth between Tang Jan and Jo Gul, Dang Myung’s eyes soon settled on Tang Ho lying on the ground.
“…”
Tang Ho and he were about the same level. If Tang Ho had been beaten, then he could be beaten too.
Which also meant that Jo Gul had not knocked Tang Ho down by chance.
Dang Myung’s earlier fire died. He bit his lip hard, then silently walked forward. This time, Tang Jan did not stop him.
Dang Myung hoisted Tang Ho from the floor and returned to his place.
“Stand down.”
“Yes.”
Even if he did not want to acknowledge Jo Gul’s skill, he could not disobey Tang Jan’s orders. Brothers or not, his standing in the family was different from Tang Jan’s.
With Dang Myung pushed back, Tang Jan looked at Jo Gul and the Mount Hua disciples behind him, all of them wearing relaxed expressions.
“My younger brother was rude.”
“…”
“But I am not like him, so you would do well to be careful.”
His tone dripped with coldness.
Jo Gul’s entire body tensed at the words. His body understood Tang Jan’s strength before his mind could catch up.
Is he at least above Wudang’s second-generation disciples?
He had already crossed swords with a genuine Wudang disciple and won without much difficulty. But Tang Jan felt like someone on an entirely different level.
Then again.
You could not really compare a disciple of a giant sect like Wudang to a direct heir from an elite family like the Tang Family. If Jo Gul were to take on Tang Jan, a Sword Dragon would probably have to appear in person.
The Sword Dragon.
In other words, it was like Jo Gul fighting the same opponent Baek Cheon had faced.
How strong am I, then?
His chest tightened faintly with excitement.
And then, at that very moment—
“Look at that. Look at his shoulders twitching. Wants a beating, does he?”
“…”
That damned ghost.
Chung Myung’s irritated voice stabbed into Jo Gul’s ears.
“I’ve told you until I’m blue in the face not to get worked up when you’re standing in front of your opponent, so why are you wriggling around like a feed bucket of grain barely a breath later? Do I need to nail Thousand-Year Cold Iron over your ears so the message sinks in?”
Thud.
Chung Myung’s words struck like a knife in Jo Gul’s back.
“How many times have I told you the first guy to die on a battlefield is the idiot who gets excited, and why the hell don’t you listen? Do you really want to die that badly? If so, there are nicer ways to do it. You could just shove your face into a bowl of water, so why are you so desperate to get killed by someone else’s hand?”
Again, thud.
Jo Gul shuddered all over.
Even if a real blade were stuck into his body, it would not hurt this much.
But it was not just pain.
I really am an idiot.
He had gotten excited simply because an enemy stood before him, and because he could fight that enemy. Even a child who had only just picked up a sword would not make such a foolish mistake.
Keep the head cold. And the heart?
Keep the heart cold too!
Mount Hua’s martial arts staked everything on the delicacy of the sword tip. If he could not control the sword perfectly, less than half of its true power would ever show.
Cold. Colder.
Jo Gul’s eyes lowered.
“Hmph.”
Watching that, Chung Myung finally nodded.
“You only remember when someone says it to your face.”
You should’ve just done it on your own. On your own!
Still, for all that, Jo Gul had quickly regained his composure. Chung Myung felt a little relieved that the training so far did not seem to have been wasted.
Baek Cheon, standing behind him, cast him a strange look.
This guy…
Baek Cheon could not lead his younger martial brothers the way Chung Myung did.
He could not stride ahead of them, teaching and showing them the way. But he had always believed he would be better than Chung Myung at protecting them and guiding them in the right direction.
And yet, in that moment, Baek Cheon had no choice but to realize it.
Maybe he’s the one who truly cares about the martial nephews.
You could not grow by being kept in someone’s arms. If a child was never allowed near the river for fear he might break a knee or fall in the water, he would never once get his feet wet in his life.
Let them out.
Trust them and let them out, even if you were worried and uneasy. That was how people were raised.
If Chung Myung stepped in himself, Tang Jan would not be able to withstand even a single move. But instead of taking that easy route, Chung Myung had chosen to clench his fist and force himself to calm the unease in his chest.
I’m still nowhere close.
Baek Cheon bit his lip lightly and watched Jo Gul’s back.
He believed in them.
His martial nephews.
And the disciples of Mount Hua.
Tang Jan’s eyes locked onto Jo Gul.
Silence.
No stray thought flickered across Jo Gul’s face as he held his sword up.
That level of focus was astonishing.
No, perhaps it was something beyond focus, a kind of selflessness where the self itself had vanished.
Can I concentrate that hard?
No. Not right now.
But Tang Jan did not think that meant he was being overpowered. Focus was merely one means of exerting force; in front of greater strength, it meant nothing.
Crik.
The willow-leaf flying dagger held inside his sleeve rasped with a chilling friction.
Crik. Crik.
That sound gradually quickened, almost as if it were heightening the atmosphere itself.
And then, in an instant—
The hand hidden inside Tang Jan’s sleeve shot out like lightning. At the same time, three willow-leaf daggers sliced through the air like streaks of light toward Jo Gul.
Swaaaaaash!
In the blink of a flash, the daggers were already upon him.
Jo Gul’s eyes blazed.
Clang! Clang!
He knocked away two of the daggers, then twisted his body hard. Even for him, the one with Mount Hua’s fastest sword among the third-generation disciples, he could not fend off all three.
The remaining one had to be evaded by twisting out of the way.
Swaaaash!
Then two more willow-leaf daggers flew at him.
“Tch!”
His balance broken, Jo Gul slammed his sword down into the ground. Using the rebound, he launched himself into the air and barely dodged the flying daggers.
Slash.
A dagger passed so close to the top of his head that it sheared off a few strands of hair, scattering them into the air.
He’s strong!
Even in that moment, Jo Gul shivered at his opponent’s strength.
It was nothing more than dagger technique.
He was simply pouring in inner force and throwing them hard. Yet these daggers boasted a terrifying level of perfection, proof of how many years Tang Jan had spent honing them.
His release was clean, without a shred of excess. And the speed was astonishingly fast.
More than anything else…
“Taaaaaaat!”
Five daggers now came roaring at the Jo Gul as he descended toward the ground.
Combo attack!
As if he had aimed for exactly this situation from the moment he threw the first two, Tang Jan’s dagger play was relentless.
Fwaaaaaat!
The five willow-leaf daggers spun as they sought Jo Gul’s entire body.
Even a single dagger landing would leave a gruesome wound that could easily cost him his life. Even if those daggers were not poisoned.
He’s strong.
Tang Jan was undeniably strong.
But—
Sorry, but!
Jo Gul clenched his teeth.
He drew his leg in slightly, then kicked the air with all his strength. Riding the recoil of the qi he released, he lunged straight toward the oncoming daggers.
I fight something even worse than you every single day!
His fingertips clung to the sword.
It felt as if the sword had become his arm.
So what if the opponent was strong?
So what if he was dangerous?
What of it?
Mount Hua’s plum blossoms bloomed even in driving rain, and they bloomed even in the bitterest snowstorm.
There was no reason a plum blossom could not bloom in any situation!
A tiny bud formed at the tip of Jo Gul’s sword.
Bloom.
Bloom!
At last, Jo Gul’s completed plum blossom burst into full flower, completely engulfing the five flying daggers.
Clang! Clack-clack-clang!
The daggers failed to pierce the plum blossom and were flung back.
Jo Gul, who had been about to charge forward using that momentum, came to an abrupt halt.
Gooooooo…!
The last willow-leaf dagger was spinning inside Tang Jan’s hand at a speed invisible to the naked eye.
Just by looking at his face, one could tell how much terrifying qi he had packed into that dagger.
Eleventh Dagger!
He had heard of it before.
The Tang Family’s dagger art.
Beware the one who possesses eleven daggers. The final dagger will steal your soul before you even have time to notice it.
That final dagger in Tang Jan’s hand was ready to pierce Jo Gul’s soul.
Woooooooon.
The dagger left Tang Jan’s hand and slowly flew toward Jo Gul.
Slowly. Very slowly.
Jo Gul stared at the sight, dumbfounded.
It was almost absurd that something moving at that speed did not simply drop to the ground. It was too slow for him to be able to take it head-on, too slow to even want to meet.
And yet, despite its ridiculous appearance, the instant Jo Gul saw that dagger, sweat began seeping from his entire body.
It was coming.
Something enormous was definitely coming.
And then—
Kwaaaaaaa!
The dagger that had seemed to drift through the air as though frozen suddenly shot toward Jo Gul with explosive speed.
It was impossible to follow with the eyes.
By the time he realized the truth, the dagger was already right in front of Jo Gul’s throat.
“Jo Gul!”
“Aaah!”
The disciples of Mount Hua cried out in horror, shocked by that terrifying speed.
But Jo Gul’s gaze never wavered.
He stepped.
One step to the side.
He twisted.
His whole body!
Shlrk!
With a dreadful sound, Jo Gul’s throat was cut open by about half an inch. Blood sprayed from his neck into the air.
His body swayed as though it might collapse at any moment.
Got him…!
The moment Tang Jan was about to cry out in triumph—
Jo Gul’s body spun once and kicked off the ground, then shot toward Tang Jan like a bolt of lightning.
“Huh?”
What Tang Jan saw in that instant was not Jo Gul.
Plum blossoms?
His entire field of vision was filled with plum blossoms in full bloom.
It was nothing short of a breathtaking sight.
Tap.
A small weight settled on Tang Jan’s shoulder.
Where the blossoms had vanished, there now stood one man.
Jo Gul, blood streaming from his throat.
His sword rested on Tang Jan’s shoulder.
“…”
Tang Jan opened his mouth, but no words would come.
“Next… ah, forget it. I can’t do it.”
Jo Gul chuckled and shook his head.
“Anyway, I win.”
Looking at the face breaking into that easy smile, Tang Jan squeezed his eyes shut.
Defeat.
A clean defeat, with no room for excuses at all.