Chapter 22
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Gotta Win If You're Gonna Play the Game (1)
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In creative works, sometimes you have to intentionally ignore historical accuracy.
Especially when playing a medieval fantasy game like Com Kingdom, I felt this need acutely.
It was enough to make you groan, "Why go that far with the realism?"
Of course, compared to games that crossed the line—like black samurai—it was downright saintly.
"Haa... damn..."
Overall, excessive realism just brings inconvenience to the player.
Like the intense muscle soreness that hits the moment you wake up in the morning.
A martial artist should normally train for 22 hours, sleep for 2, then do a quick qi circulation session to recover full condition, right?
From that perspective, it kinda felt like they weren't sticking to realism...
There was another gripe about the realism, too.
"Kyau!"
"Not a walk today."
The Hundred Flowers Academy was vast.
The library where Lady Chicken Division was waiting sat at the eastern edge of the academy.
And Sword Division Lady's private training grounds, Sword Forest Garden, were at the western edge.
In the original game Raising a Martial Artist,
one mouse click let you zip freely around the academy's interior.
But I had been cursed with the misfortune of having to cross that vast distance on foot...
I should've paid more attention when installing mods and looked for something like 'School Bus in the Martial World'.
With the wolf pup nestled in my arms, trudging through the campus—no, the academy grounds,
nightmarish memories from my university days suddenly bubbled up unbidden.
Thanks to my alma mater being built on a mountain,
moving between lecture halls meant endless uphill climbs and descents.
One senior, venting his rage at the absurdity,
had ridden a kick scooter down the steep incline to a nearly summit-level education building for an exam, earning the moniker 'Man of Lightspeed'.
Ah, fond memories.
Time flew by at the start of the semester.
I had my weekend confiscated.
- What? Going home? No need. I've already contacted the clan lord. You think you're sleepy with muscles like that?
Lady Chicken Division, obsessed with external martial arts training, locked me in the library the moment the weekend hit and fed me nothing but chicken breast three times a day while making me exercise nonstop.
Even Jang Palli, the gambling bastard I thought was my ironclad friend,
- Haha, truly a shame, but I have plans this weekend.
- Hmm, I appreciate Brother Geum's consideration, but sadly, there's a Beggars' Sect event.
turned a blind eye to my tears and left the dorms to enjoy a wild weekend.
Those damn traitors.
And finally, the day of reckoning arrived.
"Lowly scum. On your knees and begging yet?"
"Heh heh. Moyong Dow's defeat is now within five fingers..."
"What's with that speech pattern?"
Hey, back off, cup.
The seal is about to break.
After submitting the Tao Te Ching copy I'd scribed through bloodshot eyes all night,
we headed together to the Mind-Image Sword Debate arena, Heart-Link Pavilion.
Whether the gallery had broadcast that we'd settle things with Mind-Image Sword Debate, or word of mouth had spread,
nearly half the students came swarming behind us.
A bit overwhelming.
Still.
Young Master, fighting!
Kuh.
Kuhhh...!
How long had it been since a girl cheered me on!
Not sure if it ever happened!
If you lose, training x3^^
Damn it!
That's not cheering!
I couldn't bring myself to say that,
so instead, I vented my frustration by smashing the like button on Lady Chicken Division's gallery post.
After arriving at Heart-Link Pavilion,
as nearly a hundred people poured in at once, all eyes turned our way.
The spectator seats filled in an instant—a sight to behold!
"Come on, come on! This ain't an everyday matchup. Ten Thousand Gold Treasury Fortress's supernova Geum Sihyeon versus the Moyong Family's prodigy Moyong Wicheon! Bet and win big!"
That crazy bastard's running a betting ring even here.
Our eyes met, and Moyong Taek winked.
Thanks to his beastly nature, I could read his mind with Heavenly Beast Heart-Returning Art.
- Lose and you're dead.
I responded to his expectations by flipping him the bird nice and casual.
Before donning the headgear.
By chance or fate,
I caught sight of Luri peeking just her face out from the crowd.
Her expression was still hard to read, as always.
But her eyes sparkled faintly, laced with curiosity.
Maybe sell her my spare gear.
A demonic cult young lord's gotta have plenty of cash, right?
With those thoughts,
I whispered just loud enough for the glaring Moyong Wicheon to hear.
"Domain expansion. Cockroach fodder."
His brow twitched—he was properly pissed.
Still a shallowly disciplined guy.
Grit!
Moyong Wicheon momentarily lost control of his emotions at Geum Sihyeon's whisper.
But,
"Lowly scum."
as he uttered what could be called his signature phrase,
his emotions slowly settled.
Last time.
Yeah.
An unexpected blow.
A fluke coincidence.
An inexplicable deviation.
If not for that cowardly hidden strength and yielding three moves, the one rolling on the floor that day would've been Geum Sihyeon.
With that conviction, Moyong Wicheon entered the friendly match.
And soon.
"Pfft, hahaha...!"
There it was.
A guy who relied only on dirty tricks—how could he survive in the harsh martial world?
Ten Thousand Gold Treasury Fortress Authentic Mahjong Plenty Division
Free Matches: 0W 0D 0L (-)
Peak Matches: 36W 0D 36L (0%)
Profound Matches: 0W 0D 0L (-)
36 losses in 36 matches.
Was that even human, or just a wooden puppet?
Looks like he'd leveraged his family's prestige to snag a Mind-Image Sword Debate machine somehow.
But,
a lowly birth stays lowly.
He'd paid dearly for underestimating the dragon-tiger bloodbath that was the Mind-Image Sword Debate world.
And what was his nickname in Mind-Image Sword Debate?
A vulgar, materialistic title devoid of any warrior's pride.
Indeed.
Only a grand title like 'Heaven-Rending Sword Ghost' embodied true style, heroism, and romance.
clang!
With the resounding gong, the Mind-Image Sword Debate began.
Moyong Wicheon felt his judgment was spot on.
"That all you got?"
It wouldn't be heard,
but oddly, a faint sense of disappointment made him mutter to himself as he casually deflected Geum Sihyeon's sword.
Of course, in terms of pure level.
...It was quite impressive.
The forms were highly refined.
The transitions between forms were seamless.
He'd even unconsciously let out a gasp of admiration at first.
But.
His sword was precise,
but far too straightforward.
It even felt eerie in that regard.
In terms of form mastery alone,
it rivaled or even surpassed his own realm.
Yet how could someone who understood forms so deeply
fail to execute a single variation or counter properly?
As if
a machine executing intricate martial arts.
Of course, with 36 losses, it couldn't be that simple.
But he could guess why he'd never won.
With that thought, Moyong Wicheon indifferently thrust his sword into Geum Sihyeon's chest.
"Ha, shit... he packs a punch..."
Gotta give credit where it's due.
His nickname might make your fingers cringe like it was dredged straight from middle school syndrome,
but Moyong Wicheon was dead serious about martial arts.
Sorry to say this about our Sword Division Lady... no, Sister Seol,
but his talent was exceptional.
He'd put in solid effort too.
And with his family's backing,
in another 2 or 3 years, Moyong Wicheon might well surpass Sister Seol in swordsmanship.
"Kuh...!"
Green tea powder teacher, what the hell are you?
Dual swords are seriously strong?
'Offense and defense in harmony' fit perfectly.
As his right sword targeted my throat, the left backed it up.
Try to parry, and the left naturally slides along my blade toward my neck while the right simultaneously pierces my heart.
Fancy, flashy moves that should tangle hands and arms,
but whether due to Mind-Image Sword Debate or true mastery,
left and right swords flowed without interference, like water,
and I was helplessly pushed back.
Suddenly, wounds dotted my body.
No pain, but penalties slowed my movements gradually.
Slashes I'd have dodged easily now forced desperate, razor-thin evasions.
Definitely.
Is this the gap in fundamentals?
But...
If you're gonna play the game,
you gotta win.
Toward my unguarded chest,
Moyong Wicheon's sword slithered in like a snake.
No dodging it.
Seemed impossible.
By normal means, anyway.
Orthodox play won't win, so
time for a gamble.
...Whisper 'cockroach fodder' and then lose?
Flat-out humiliating.
"Luriring, boring?"
Seeing Cheon Luri fiddling endlessly with her smartphone with a bored look,
Myo Narang felt a twinge of guilt.
"Kyuit, kwuit!"
The squirrel scampered up Luri's shoulder and rubbed against her soft cheek,
but
"...Tickles."
her sullen expression didn't lift.
Maybe she's unhappy about Young Master Geum losing? Myo Narang tilted her head.
Luri, who walled off most people,
was at least comfortable around her and Young Master Geum.
Didn't know why,
but Young Master Geum seemed like a good guy, so maybe that.
With a sigh, Myo Narang looked up at the screen.
As she watched Young Master Geum's moves, clearly doomed to defeat, thinking this is hopeless and about to give up—
thud—
Cheon Luri's smartphone slipped from her hand.
And then.
"...Blood Wolf Sword Method...?"
For the first time Myo Narang could recall,
Cheon Luri spoke with emotion in her voice.