Chapter 30
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Quarrel (2)
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We boarded one of the larger ships docked at the pier. The islet was far too vast to cross in a small boat. To minimize exposure to danger while traversing the lake, you needed a proper fleet.
Plus, it was easier to hitch a ride on a vessel run by a reputable merchant group. While you could cross the river on a simple ferry, the islet had its own martial world.
Mujin chose a ship from Jeongun Merchant Group, one of the top three in Anhui Province. The fare was a bit steep, but he invested in safety for a reason.
Tedious hassles are the last thing I want.
"Father."
"What?"
Taejin shot him a look with an uncomfortable expression. They'd exchanged names and greetings before boarding, but it had turned downright challenging. His glare was so intense it seemed like it might unleash a palm strike.
Mujin couldn't fathom what had gotten into him.
"You said you'd accept my challenge? When did I ever challenge you! What did you say to him back there?"
"Nothing much. He mentioned the Little Dragon Tournament, so I just said my son was even better."
A father couldn't very well badmouth his own son. It didn't matter if he wasn't exceptional—no one else got to touch him. That was Mujin's rule.
Taejin's head throbbed.
This is why I said I'd go alone!
"Why say something so pointless!"
"What, no confidence?"
Let's keep fists out of family matters. Answer freely, but give me the wrong one, and there's no mercy.
"...Who said I lack confidence!"
"Good, then we're settled."
He'd hoped his son might make a good friend on the way, but his father had turned him into a rival instead. Taejin glared without so much as blinking the entire trip. Didn't his eyes hurt? Just watching made Taejin's own feel dry.
But Taejin had no intention of backing down either.
I won't lose!
Cheolho, facing off against Taejin, mouthed words silently with a hushed voice. Even amid the tension, he oddly kept up decorum. He'd gone quiet after Father's earlier scolding about the noise, channeling his fighting spirit solely at Taejin.
What the hell is this awkward mess!
Watching his father remain utterly carefree only fueled Taejin's frustration.
What did I even do!
Why glare at someone just minding their own business!
It was all Father's fault. He couldn't stand up to the man himself, which made Taejin reevaluate that bold display back at the inn.
I'd thought better of him.
Cheolho wasn't thrilled either. The kid wasn't even close in age—three years younger, no less. The idea of losing to him was unacceptable.
"Fight on deck, and I'll toss you overboard."
He itched to settle it right then, but Mujin's warning gave him pause. That bright smile might suggest a joke, but this brute seemed capable of following through. Cheolho hadn't lived long, but he'd never met anyone more reckless.
Anywhere but here.
Cheolho couldn't swim. He'd never even tried. This was his first time on a boat.
And worse still...
Ugh!
Damn seasickness!
A school of freshwater fish swarmed in his gut.
Mujin watched his son and Cheolho's staring contest with feigned disinterest. It had started as one-sided aggression from Cheolho, but his son had risen to the bait like a proper kid.
Kids grow up fighting. They'll figure it out eventually.
-What are you planning?
Isn't it fun?
-You're derailing the future. You know Iron King needs trials.
Trials don't have to come from afar.
-What if he doesn't become Iron King?
Who cares.
-Heh, fair enough.
Iron King lived up to his name—a man of steel. He grew tougher with every trial overcome. He needed them to get stronger. Yesterday's lechers might've been his first—and worst—ordeal.
His fated path was twisting toward something new. Was that right? Repeated coincidences or luck in life were rare. If the opportunity that came knocking slipped away, he might never become Iron King.
If I can't make it happen, no one can. I'm the War King, War King! You know that.
-Always bragging.
Just facts.
-And what about Sword Empress?
She's pretty.
Cheon-gyeong needed to encourage Cheolho's un-pretty future self. Even back in time, the War King was still the War King. Did his old prickly personality change anything?
Besides, the War King had been called the battlefield's Demon King, fighting more battles than meals eaten. And now? He lounged in a peaceful world. Or rather, he was holding himself back.
-Petty.
Petty? This is the first step toward the grand plan!
-Grand plan? For who?
Never mind.
Cheon-gyeong let out a silent scoff at that. No plan in sight—just living aimlessly. Most feared unbeatable foes, but this man knew no fear. Admitting his strength only amplified the absurdity, leaving even an invisible head shaking.
Splash, slosh!
The boat that set off at dawn still floated on the lake. Crossing the center took considerable time.
The blazing sun reflected off the waves, stinging the eyes. Clear and pleasant, but perfect for sunburn—that's why sailors were darker than most.
Mujin unpacked his bundle and pulled out steamed buns from the market. Filled with just the right mix of vegetables and meat, they tasted great even cold. He'd eaten a few on the spot and packed extras since they were so good.
"How are they?"
"Delicious."
"Mijoo loves these too."
"Father!"
"Kidding. Stop glaring from over there and come eat."
Mujin savored one, chewing slowly. The juices held up perfectly despite being cold. The chef's skill was top-notch. The wrapper was so thin you could see the filling, yet it didn't burst—master craftsmanship.
"...I'm good!"
"Can't handle a little seasickness, boy? Son, that's your win."
"...I won't lose!"
He strode over and snatched one, chewing defiantly. He acted unfazed, but his stomach churned.
"Chew thoroughly. You'll get indigestion."
"I'm fine... Urk!"
Fine? Seasickness didn't improve until you adapted. Unless you'd reached mastery where body control was absolute, anyway. Cheolho looked mature on the outside, but his insides weren't disciplined yet.
Still, martial artists differed from civilians. They adapted fast, and seasickness became rare after experience—unless injuries threw off balance.
"Fancy a drink?"
"...No thanks!"
"My son learned to hold his liquor ages ago. So young yet."
"Give me some!"
Iron King, you fool! He seemed level-headed at first, but he's just simple. Fun to toy with. His face had a forty-year-old's gravitas, but this proved he was still a kid.
Gulp!
He downed it heartily.
"You?"
"I'll pass."
Taejin firmly refused the cup. He wouldn't fall for Father's scheme. Showing off tolerance was foolish, and Mother said drinking wasn't a man's virtue anyway.
Dad's strong, but Mom runs the family.
Listen to Mom.
Taejin steadied himself, but regret crept in. Cheolho's look—like he couldn't even drink—irritated him. The guy was fully ensnared in Father's trap.
Simpler than he looked.
"The championship is mine."
Haaah!
Is he drunk already?
The Little Dragon Tournament, hosted by the Nangong Family, boasted a century of history.
Qualifiers were based on Anhui's orthodox sects, but the Five Great Families sent representatives for exchange.
Now, it served to showcase their martial arts and flaunt future talents. Smaller sects rarely placed.
Most were just extras.
Yet they entered yearly to rank outside the Five Greats. Good luck might catch their eye.
In Anhui, the Nangong Family reigned supreme. Falling out meant struggling to survive. No one dared refuse the invite.
"You said you'd win the Little Dragon Tournament?"
An unfamiliar, irked voice rang across the deck.
They turned to see the intruder.
A tall, imposing boy—youthful face belying his stature—had barged into Taejin and Cheolho's talk.
Taejin and Cheolho exchanged "Who's this guy?" glances, tilted their heads, then resumed eating buns as if nothing happened.
Twitch!
Ignored.
The sturdy boy's eyes flashed fiercely. A first in his life. Used to all eyes on him, he had no patience for this.
"Don't you know who I am!"
It made no sense they'd miss his uniform. At its center, a white tiger climbing a mountain was embroidered in fine silk thread.
The mountain tiger symbolized the Hwangbo Family.
One of the Five Greats, and Hwangbo Jin-un was direct lineage—the Might King's grandson.
His arrogance screamed poor upbringing. Spoiled rotten, no doubt. Cocky to the heavens, the type prone to sudden death.
Those types always die to a blind blade.
"Who're you to pick a fight!"
"Gotta know?"
Taejin and Cheolho showed no panic at the sudden provocation—just annoyance.
My boy's grown well.
-That's what you say to your son?
Challenge met with challenge.
-I told you to pick fights carefully.
Not my son.
By his boy's side stood the continent's strongest father. Let the kid stand tall!
Hold back before a challenge, but once engaged, be decisive. Half-measures left bitter aftertastes.
Kill before they kill you.
-Wise words.
Mujin and Cheon-gyeong aligned for once.
Anyway, this bold intruder was peak arrogance. Message clear: he hated nobodies like them talking championship.
Kids' competitive fire was martial basics. Especially with family pride, they belittled all else.
Countless died to blind blades. Even unknowns deserved caution if bold.
Crack!
At Taejin and Cheolho's apathy, veins bulged on Hwangbo Jin-un's forehead. Raised on flattery and elixirs, he deemed no peer his equal.
Yet these nameless peons mocked Hwangbo direct blood. Time to teach them the family's greatness.
"Let's see if your skills match that mouth. If you're not scared, stand up."
"Stand up?"
"Spar on deck?"