Chapter 50
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Overwhelm (1)
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On the third day of the tournament, Mujin was bored out of his mind. Even sitting in the stands watching had become a chore. The kids' performances were cute once or twice, but staring at them nonstop made him itch all over.
He glanced around the tournament grounds.
He was curious about how the Nangong Family had set things up, so he took a look. Their estate was like an imperial palace hidden deep within walls. From one end to the other, everything was enclosed by high walls, with towering pavilions and grand halls piercing the sky, sunlight spilling over them.
'How much money does it take to maintain all this?'
-Running an organization comes with heavy responsibilities. You ditched even that tiny sect on your little brother because you couldn't be bothered—think you get it?
'Look at you strutting around after getting used. While we're on the topic, I have no plans to start a family clan.'
-A lone warrior is dangerous, you know.
'Doesn't a crowd just make you a bigger target? Gathering a bunch of posers is a waste of cash.'
-Fair point. Come to think of it, your instincts are weirdly sharp.
Even without trying, Mujin had a knack for steering the flow. He pinpointed the direction things were heading in one glance. It was hard to chalk it up to luck alone.
Mujin only scoped out the permitted areas of the Nangong Family estate. There was more that was off-limits than open space. Stepping anywhere unintended could lead to misunderstandings.
"They should at least put up some screens."
The Nangong estate was so vast it was impossible to tell where one area ended and another began. Far from preparing for mishaps, they seemed to take it for granted. As if no one would dare cause trouble in the Nangong Family's domain.
It wasn't hard to understand.
The layout was a maze for anyone not intimately familiar with it—cleverly blending similar and distinct areas to trip up the uninitiated. The layers of security grew exponentially tighter deeper in.
"Still, it's full of holes."
Nothing's perfect, relatively speaking. Mujin's eyes spotted over ten gaps. Ten was being generous; spotting even one meant their defenses had failed. That's defense for you—one slip after nine successes, and it's over.
Mujin passed the time lounging in a pavilion in the Nangong Family's public garden, the Saewon Court. It didn't match their famed Cangwon Court, but it was scenic enough. He didn't want to disparage the family, but compared to the Pine Tiger Sect, it was a puddle versus a lake.
Shuuu!
Should he spear some of those koi playing in the stream for a snack? He pondered briefly, then flopped back down, too lazy.
"The tournament's not fun, huh?"
"Fun's subjective."
A silhouette etched a shadow on Mujin's face as he lay in the pavilion. As the light faded, her features emerged.
Porcelain skin, sharp features, and a height impressive for a woman. She wore white martial robes, a fine silk-threaded sword at her waist.
Mujin cracked his eyes open to look.
Cangtian.
The motto symbolizing the Nangong Family was boldly embroidered, marking her as one of theirs.
Mujin peeled himself off the floor and sat up in the pavilion.
"Nangong Yeonhwa. You're Kang Mujin of the Pine Tiger Sect, right? I've heard about you. Beat the String Music Sword? That guy's no pushover."
"What do you want?"
"Care for a spar?"
"Sure."
She blinked in surprise at his ready agreement. Normally, folks hemmed and hawed a few times before refusing an abrupt challenge—especially if she gave her name. It put the other side in an awkward spot.
But he'd accepted on the spot.
"You don't know me?"
"Come on, this is the Nangong Family."
My eyes aren't blind—anyone missing the Cangtian on her chest would be an idiot. The question was ridiculous. At this point, it felt insulting.
"My nickname?"
"Do I need to know nicknames for a casual spar?"
Nangong Yeonhwa had dealt with plenty who'd feigned ignorance to lower guards before striking. But Mujin was different—no hidden agenda. He genuinely seemed clueless, treating her as a fellow warrior unbound by clan or title.
'What is this guy?'
It was what she'd always wanted, yet receiving equal treatment felt strangely off.
"You're one of a kind."
"We're not buddies. Spar or don't."
Mujin cut off the dawdling and got to business, unleashing Stone-Drawing Sword. Wrong guy if she wanted chit-chat. Even talking this much to some young miss felt like apologizing to Yujin.
Sensing his sincerity, Nangong Yeonhwa's tone sharpened. No one had ever treated her so casually—it was a fresh shock.
"Fine! Who said I wouldn't?"
"Let's begin."
As Mujin sprang up to assume stance, she faltered. His impatience matched or exceeded hers.
"This is a garden."
"So?"
She was speechless at his retort.
He couldn't care less about the Nangong Family's garden. She'd never met someone so brazen and irresponsible—especially here, heart of one of the Five Great Families.
But she'd asked for the spar. He'd agreed, just wanting to save time. All business, no frills—like a sweet pumpkin of a guy... or person.
For a direct bloodline of the Nangong Family, this cold shoulder was unprecedented. Compared to those fawning for connections, he was a different species.
"Follow me."
"Lead on."
He was curt, but not rebellious. He followed without fuss.
To Nangong Yeonhwa, he was an enigma. Once inside the estate, she glanced back.
"Not curious?"
"About what?"
"Never mind."
This guy really thought nothing. Normal people asked questions—curiosity was human. What made him trust and follow a stranger? Though... probably not a trap. The Nangong name was guarantee enough.
'He's weird!'
She kept stealing glances at Mujin the whole way. Realizing it flustered her.
When had she ever looked back at a man? Never, upon reflection. Yet he drew her eye. Was he drop-dead handsome? No—the local riffraff looked just as good.
'If it's bluff, you'll regret it.'
If his overconfidence blinded him, no need to bother.
She'd prove it soon.
'Her fighting spirit's blazing.'
Mujin's mild demeanor shifted to interest at her aura.
Honestly, unexpected. The Nangong Family, sword masters extraordinaire. Few sects could match their blades besides Huashan and Wudang. He hadn't dreamed of encountering a fist art practitioner of her caliber here.
That's why he'd agreed. Fist arts weren't ideal for women. Most stuck to swords, but she'd chosen fists. Even if martial arts pushed the body to extremes, fists demanded grueling intensity. Blocking weapons barehanded left no choice.
'Impressive, huh.'
-Save that for when you know who you're dealing with.
Should I have?
She'd make a name for herself later, but Mujin debated playing informed. No point—the sharp Demon King would bait him anyway. Dodge or bite, he'd get called out. Damn show-off.
'Who is she?'
-Knew it. It's the Fist Empress.
'Fist Empress? Her? The Fist Empress's clan is Gong...? Damn it!'
-Wasn't expecting you to know.
He'd only learned her name, Nangong Yeonhwa, later.
True name Nangong Yeonhwa—who'd have thought. Her face had seemed familiar. But back then, a massive scar ran from forehead to chin. Women hid such marks, but she bore hers with defiant confidence.
Her mangled face had been off-putting; he hadn't looked closely. For women, face was everything. No matter the body, a wrecked visage killed attraction.
'Something went down in the Nangong Family.'
-Even tycoons linger three years post-ruin. A top clan like Nangong crumbling overnight? Suspicious from the start.
Acting without clan name suggested an incident too big for them. But did he need her personal dirt? Could be internal succession strife.
Power spares no kin, as they say. Families toughened in bloody fights—or shattered.
'Who'd peg her for Nangong looking like that Fist Empress.'
-True. I only recognized her now. At this level, hard to link to the prime Fist Empress.
'See? Not just me.'
-Better off ignorant—you're disinterested anyway. How do you not recognize a comrade-in-arms?
Back then, Mujin ate and fought, ignoring the jianghu. No "comrades"—just temporary allies.
Anyway, the Fist Empress was special like the Sword Empress. Her fists unleashed a unique energy leagues beyond typical fist arts. Reason she'd mastered fists in a sword clan.
Mujin shook off reverie and trailed Nangong Yeonhwa casually, eyes scanning the path.
'Still lost on me.'
-No surprise.
'You memorized it?'
-Don't use me as a tool!
Mujin skimmed roughly. No worry of getting lost—trusted the Demon King's memory. With expectations set, no need to fuss. Staring too hard might arouse suspicion. Glancing casually loosened hidden guards.
They entered a compound with elegant tiled roofs, ornate eaves, and a decent open yard.
"We're here."
"Let's start."
By now, Nangong Yeonhwa accepted it.
How detached and haphazard this guy lived. Zero curiosity. No prying about her, unfazed by strange locales.
"I practice Heavenly Thunder Divine Fist."
"Got it."
The Nangong Family's Heavenly Thunder Divine Fist built on Heavenly Thunder Qi for body tempering. But no one had fully mastered the Qi. Most stalled past median stage and quit.
Blame the thunder qi.
Controlling the mightiest elemental force required innate gifts. Training had limits. Only a Heavenly Thunder Body could forge, absorb, amplify it without issue.
The clan's signature Heavenly Thunder Sovereign Divine Art differed fundamentally. Sword-based, perfected to reach Sovereign Sword pinnacle.
The ultimate Sovereign Sword Form encompassed all Nangong sword arts at perfection, transcending walls. Few achieved it—even now, only the Sword Emperor.
Nangong fist arts stemmed from Heavenly Thunder Qi. Mastering to pinnacle demanded it. Alternatives like Nine Wall Divine Fist existed, but none surpassed the source.
Thus, Nangong Yeonhwa was prime stock: mastering fist arts to transcendence.
Destined for the Fist Empress moniker.
'Not yet.'
Strong for her age, sure. But lacking the prime Fist Empress's ferocity. Why Mujin hadn't recognized her despite clashes. Practically different people. Without psyche-shattering trauma warping personality, no Fist Empress here.
'Cold one.'
Answered when spoken to—or ignored. Not hostile, so he let it slide. Heard later she'd died gruesomely, limbs torn. Details on pre-death humiliation? Unknown. Dead meat, moved on.
Swish!
Mujin assumed stance. No yielding first move—that was folly. Combat demanded speed, efficiency.
Flinch!
Same face, yet to her, transformed. Heavy aura sank, brimming with beastly violence.
'He's strong!'
Mujin's lips curled at her shift. He'd sensed her concealed spirit. Razor-sharp beyond norms.
Unpolished, still—the Fist Empress was the Fist Empress.