Dragon-Phoenix Branch Meet
The Dragon-Phoenix Branch Meet—a dazzling martial display where the most renowned late talents from each sect vie for the names of dragon and phoenix. It was a gateway to fame for the nameless. Out of countless late talents, only one could claim the dragon's name. Solely the champion received the dragon, while the runner-up got the phoenix. Thus, whenever the Dragon-Phoenix Branch Meet convened, speculation about which of the Nine Great Sects or Five Great Families would seize the dragon's title was endless gossip.
"What do you young heroes think—who'll claim the dragon's name at this Dragon-Phoenix Branch Meet?"
In the Baekhwa Inn of Baekhwa County, Hubei Province, young martial artists gathered to bond and debate heatedly.
"Obviously Zhongnan. Zhongnan's sword is the world's finest."
In response to Qingcheng Sect's Dojun's question, Zhongnan Sect's Jeon Jong replied proudly, his face brimming with self-assurance.
...But no sooner had the words left his mouth than dissent arose.
"No doubt about Zhongnan's swordsmanship being superb, but..."
A beautiful woman with a mole near her eye, jet-black hair cascading to her waist, and a curvaceous figure evident even through her clothes.
"When discussing swords, you can't exclude the Nangong family."
Sichuan Tang Family's Poison Phoenix, Tang Mirang, shifted her gaze with a bewitching smile. The others followed suit, turning to the 'man' quietly sipping his tea.
"True, you can't discuss it without Nangong young hero, who's already claimed the dragon's name."
Emphasizing "young hero" to mock his small stature and name, Jeon Jong sneered. Nangong Family's young lord, Sword Dragon Namgung Soso, gave a wry smile and deflected the arrow aimed at him.
"...By that logic, you can't exclude Wudang or Huashan either."
Wudang, Huashan, Zhongnan, Nangong. These were the sects and families never omitted when righteous factions discussed swordsmanship. Especially Huashan and Zhongnan, both in Shaanxi, were sworn rivals.
"Hah! Wudang maybe, but Huashan can't match Zhongnan!!"
As expected, at the mention of Huashan, Zhongnan's Jeon Jong reacted hypersensitively, launching into why Zhongnan surpassed Huashan. Soso took another sip of tea.
"I hear Ice Dragon's arrogantly joining this Dragon-Phoenix Branch Meet to claim the True Dragon's name. Doesn't Sword Dragon need to teach him a lesson?"
...But Tang Mirang wouldn't let Soso off easily. Sighing, Soso set down his teacup as the conversation refocused on him.
True Dragon. Meaning the genuine dragon, a title bestowed on champions who'd dominated the Dragon-Phoenix Branch Meet twice or more. Every righteous late talent coveted it, but Sword Dragon Namgung Soso—hailed as closest to True Dragon—felt little interest.
"...Even without me, there's Zhuge family's Young Dragon."
Young Dragon Jegal Ohae. At the name from Soso's lips, the late talents there fell silent.
Heavenly Mechanism Bewildering Step and Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms. A monster wielding supreme footwork and ultimate palm strikes simultaneously. Moreover, trained in the bizarre dual-hand combat nearly akin to sorcery—right hand unleashing rigid palm arts, left hand fluid fist arts—leaving no gaps. Truly spear and shield. Perfect offense and defense. Beyond late talent level.
Having experienced or witnessed her terror firsthand, the late talents held their tongues in silence.
Finally quiet.
Soso thought, sipping tea again—but the hush didn't last. A new interloper arrived.
"Waiter! I'm starving—bring the menu quick. Got a headache too."
Well past lunchtime, a man in fine silk robes entered the inn.
"Uh... menu? Menu? What dish is that?"
"Ah, I misspoke from hunger. Never mind. What's the house special?"
"Everything here's tasty, but our meat noodle soup's the best."
"That'll do."
The awkward silence among the late talents shattered. They eyed the newcomer.
Thick brows, sharp jawline, straight nose, wolf-like amber eyes, sturdy build, and a limping right leg.
Thump-thump. He was a cripple.
The other late talents lost interest upon noting his limp, but Soso differed. Not prompted by others, he set down his cup, lifted his head, and stared intently at the nameless man stumping forward on his staff.
...Well-balanced frame.
Lame, yet rhythmic gait and upright posture. Beyond mere good form. This was the walk of a martial artist trained from youth with rock-solid fundamentals.
Staring was rude, but Soso couldn't tear his eyes from the nameless cripple. Unconsciously turning his head to observe, their gazes met.
"Ah..."
Soso hastily stood to apologize for his rudeness, but Mancheon merely winked—closing one eye briefly—and flashed a bright grin.
"Stare all you want. I am pretty handsome."
"...Pardon?"
Mancheon's way of sparing her an apology flustered Soso instead. Thinking his jest overdone, he greeted plainly.
"Name's Sima Mancheon. Used to stares, so no need to worry, miss."
At the Nangong young lord becoming "miss" in an instant, stifled laughs rose from the late talents—but Soso paid no mind.
"My thanks for Young Master Sima's consideration."
Just as Mancheon had grown accustomed to stares due to his leg, Soso often got mistaken for a girl over his looks.
...And strictly speaking, it wasn't a mistake. Quite accurate, really.
For whatever reason, I ended up seated with these so-called late talents of Murim.
But that wasn't what mattered to me now.
I closely examined the refined features of Nangong Family's young lord—who insisted he was a man—Namgung Soso.
Smooth, pristine white skin wafting a fresh scent, delicately pretty face too refined for a man, petite frame just over 150cm, hair faintly silver-grayish. Even the hairstyle: a braided bun. Princess knight style from manga.
Sensing my gaze, our eyes met as Soso calmly sipped tea. Long, lovely lashes.
...This was practically screaming "cross-dressing girl."
Should I acknowledge it? Or play dumb to the end?
Ignoring such obvious signs felt rude too.
But then, just a fleeting encounter at an inn—did it warrant meddling?
Setting gender aside, I asked what'd bugged me since first sight.
"Forgive me if it's rude, but how'd Young Master Nangong's hair turn gray? Born that way?"
Eighteen years reincarnated in the Murim world. Seen blue eyes, red eyes—but gray hair and eyes? First time. Even in my past life.
Tang Mirang, who'd been quietly listening beside me, answered my curiosity.
"Young Master Nangong's hair turned gray from a side effect of Snow Ginseng he took as a child."
Snow Ginseng: a spirit herb grown in frigid lands inhospitable to plants, a natural treasure with potent effects but harsh side effects compared to safely refined pills.
Ah... messed up eating wild roots. Makes sense.
A perfectly reasonable explanation; I nodded instinctively.
Some elders claim nature's pure, so anything foraged is fine. Deadly dangerous. Bodies differ—what's medicine for one is poison for another.
Natural spirit herbs are great, but refined pills with scholars' wisdom are safer, no?
In my view, Shaolin or Wudang should mass-produce pills like Bibigo frozen dumplings. Or Murim folk's hair'll end up rainbow like fantasy academy extras.
Soso sipped tea, watching Mancheon nod in solitary conviction. Outwardly a total playboy, yet an air of nobility too. A truly peculiar man.