One Spear Breaks the Ice
Woo-gang's next opponent adopted a cautious stance.
It was only natural, given that a single thrust had sent his comrade flying.
Instead of charging recklessly, he kept his distance, probing for an opening in a tense standoff.
But Woo-gang didn't seize the initiative either.
There was no need to move first and hand the enemy an opportunity.
Shh! Shh!
The only sounds breaking the silence were the careful steps of the two combatants.
Though the standoff dragged on tediously, not a soul in the arena relaxed their tension.
Woo-gang's performance in the first match had seared itself into everyone's minds.
Just when it seemed the deadlock would never break unless one of them moved first—
Thwack!
The opponent, who had seemed rooted in place, struck first.
He must have decided he needed to create an opening himself.
Screeech!
He arced toward Woo-gang from the side.
Having witnessed the overwhelming power of a straight thrust in the previous bout, he'd chosen a different approach.
Yet Woo-gang remained calm.
Swish.
His feet moved fluidly.
The advantage of the wind was its freedom of movement.
As a footwork technique that chased the wind, it was optimized for unpredictable changes in direction.
Matching the curving assault, Woo-gang shifted into a linear evasion.
His spear flashed.
A swift thrust.
But as if anticipating it, the opponent retracted his sword in an instant and twisted his body.
Screeech!
Using the rotational momentum, he slashed horizontally once more.
It was a strike designed to bait Woo-gang's counter and exploit the gap.
In that moment, Woo-gang executed an unbelievable maneuver.
As if the spear were fixed in midair, he spun a full circle with his body pressed to it.
Grip!
Seizing the spear again, Woo-gang gathered his strength.
True energy swirled within him, drawing every ounce of power from his body into one point.
Whoosh!
Channeling all his might, he swung the spear.
The blade swept horizontally across his torso, arcing wide to close the distance in a flash.
By the time the opponent realized, it was too late.
Crack!
Boom!
The swung spear smashed into the opponent's torso with devastating force.
The centrifugal power overwhelmed him; he couldn't react and went tumbling away.
"Urghhh!"
Rolling on the ground, he clutched his chest, sword dropped, groaning in pain.
Anyone could see this spar too ended in Woo-gang's victory.
Another single decisive strike.
And finisher.
Even against the Bing Palace's acknowledged elites—mere standing troops—they fell in one move. It was astonishing.
The crowd held their breath.
Woo-gang planted his spear and stood tall, spine straight.
An aura of overwhelming presence dominated the arena.
Han Si-rang's face, watching him, was rigidly set.
Winning or losing wasn't the issue.
They could lose.
But how could he win every single match?
The purpose of sparring was to learn from defeat.
Yet this was too much.
Losing was fine, but how they lost mattered.
It was a matter of pride.
And both had fallen to a single basic thrust and swing.
The Flame King's sect and the Bing Palace shared a long history, but defeats like this were unprecedented.
"You two, go face him."
Han Si-rang ground his teeth as he commanded.
Sending two against one bruised his pride, but right now, pride took a backseat to avenging this humiliating loss.
At his order, two Bing Palace warriors stepped forward.
Their expressions mirrored his—fierce determination to win.
In contrast, not only Yeom Si-woo but Woo-gang himself looked utterly indifferent.
That nonchalance stung the onlookers even more.
The pair took positions to Woo-gang's left and right.
Thud! Whoosh!
This time, Woo-gang moved first.
A beat ahead, before they could fully settle—he charged.
With two against one, no one could call his preemptive rush cowardly.
Screeech!
He thrust his spear fiercely.
The delayed opponent struggled to respond.
But he showed no panic.
Clang!
Woo-gang's spear was blocked.
Not by his target, but by the other's hand.
The second warrior had rushed in to cover for his comrade.
Whoosh!
With the crisis averted, the first quickly regained his stance and counterattacked.
Tap!
Woo-gang swiftly stepped back with footwork.
But escape wasn't easy.
Screeech!
A sword flew from the direction he dodged toward.
He twisted direction in haste.
But an attack awaited there too.
Whoosh!
Screech!
Sharp whistles of air filled the arena.
Their assaults grew fiercer, pressing Woo-gang; the atmosphere shifted.
Like herding prey, their coordinated offense restricted his movements—hard to break free.
Woo-gang couldn't swing his spear properly, reduced to desperate evasion.
A blade grazed perilously close to his chest, tearing his sleeve.
He hurriedly lowered his center.
His hair shot upward; a sword pierced the space his head had occupied.
Strands fluttered in the wind.
Woo-gang retreated without pause.
Another blade stabbed where his torso had been moments before.
Han Si-rang's lips finally curved into a faint smile as he watched.
Unlike the prior matches where they'd fallen without resistance, now they dominated completely.
Victory seemed assured.
It'll end soon.
Everyone gathered thought the same as Han Si-rang.
Everyone except two.
Yeom Si-woo and Woo-gang thought differently.
Woo-gang looked cornered to any observer, yet Yeom Si-woo's expression never changed.
Woo-gang's was the same.
No— he even wore a faint smile.
This'll work.
Woo-gang was confident.
Their perfectly synced offense and defense had indeed overwhelmed him at first.
But as he adapted, confidence in victory surged.
His focus peaked.
Their movements were fully captured by his heightened senses.
Swish!
He casually evaded a sword aimed at his face.
Han Si-rang shot to his feet.
The faint smile vanished; his face hardened again.
He'd sensed the change in Woo-gang's movements.
But doubt lingered: No way?
The Bing Palace warriors' onslaught continued.
But the close calls ended.
Woo-gang dodged effortlessly, as if he knew every attack path.
Without swinging once, mere footwork nullified them all.
And then—
His spear finally stirred.
True energy, fully gathered, surged into it at the perfect moment.
Flames erupted from Woo-gang's spear, the blade blazing with searing heat as he unleashed a torrent of explosive forms.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Crash!
Their sharp, powerful dual assault shattered in one go.
Mutual support, exquisite offense-defense synergy, relentless staggered strikes—
All rendered useless before Woo-gang's barrage.
Roar!
Riding the winds of Chu Pung Gu Hwan Bo, the flames intensified.
They blazed fiercely, threatening to engulf not just the arena but the surroundings.
Winds whipped up, fueling the inferno to greater ferocity.
Yeom Si-woo clenched his fist.
Woo-gang had perfectly mastered the harmony of Hong Yeom Cheon Ui Chang and Chu Pung Gu Hwan Bo.
Boom!
The final strike exploded across the arena.
Tremble.
Han Si-rang's fists shook with rage.
Gnashing his teeth, he barely contained his fury—unlike before.
The flames Woo-gang conjured subsided.
North Sea's chill winds rushed in, cooling the lingering heat.
The two lay pale-faced on the arena, as if suffering internal injuries—unable to rise.
Woo-gang stood unshaken, towering in the center.
Han Si-rang glared fiercely.
Woo-gang met it without flinching.
Don't forget our promise.
Don't get cocky. It ain't over yet.
Their eyes exchanged silent words.
"Today's spars end here."
With that, Han Si-rang whirled away, vanishing like the wind.
More were prepared, but further bouts were pointless.
Swish.
Woo-gang's gaze met Han Seo-yeon's lingering stare.
Their eyes locked in the air.
Her usually cold, unyielding eyes wavered greatly this time.
But her thoughts remained inscrutable.
Soon, Han Seo-yeon and the Bing Palace warriors departed one by one.
Woo-gang stood alone on the arena as Yeom Si-woo approached slowly.
"Well done."
Woo-gang smiled at the praise.
"Win or lose, you've shown the true fruits of your training. I'm proud."
His smile deepened at the continued commendation.
"But this isn't the end, right?"
"Yes. Exactly. Far from it."
More spars awaited, surely against stronger foes.
Today's humiliations would demand retaliation from Han Si-rang and the entire Bing Palace.
Woo-gang calmed his elation.
No gloating, no arrogance.
Yeom Si-woo smiled proudly at the sight.
"Let's head back now. Rest today. Proper rest is part of training too."
"Yes."
The two quietly made for their lodgings.
The arena, still hot moments ago, now swirled only with bitter cold.
Woo-gang and Yeom Si-woo holed up in their lodgings, awaiting the next spar.
Not truly secluded—they simply continued their routine.
As if nothing had happened, training as always.
That was Woo-gang's duty, his only path.
Time passed, and the day of the next spar drew near.
Unlike the first, announced only that morning, the Bing Palace had notified them in advance.
The day before the match—
An unexpected incident struck the Bing Palace.