Shadow Warrior (1)
Pa-fak!
Yi Mu-myeong hurriedly retreated.
But no one could outrun an arrow.
He channeled qi into his sword and swiftly deflected Han Bin's blade.
Chaeng!
In that instant, a numb pain shot through his wrist.
Han Bin's sword had been that heavy.
For a split second, Han Bin's shoulder was exposed.
Yi Mu-myeong, a peak swordsman, wouldn't miss such an opening.
He twisted his blade back toward Han Bin's shoulder.
Seogeok!
It was shallow, but the sword had definitely bitten into flesh.
At the same time, a sharp impact rang in his ears.
Ppak!
Followed by searing pain.
Glancing downward, he saw the scabbard pressed against his waist.
Han Bin smiled.
By drawing Yi Mu-myeong's gaze with his sword, he'd successfully struck his side with the scabbard.
He'd traded a shallow arm wound for a formula.
Dragon Eye confirms the formula.
You have acquired Return (again) from the basic volume of the Yongrin Sword Art.
Basic Volume
……
Return (Return). Return (Return)
……
Return appeared twice.
The blood seeping from his arm seemed to slow, though it was probably just his imagination. He couldn't hide his elation.
From his experience so far, basic formulas had been harder to acquire than applied ones.
Thinking he'd caught a big one, Han Bin grinned widely.
Yi Mu-myeong narrowed his eyes at the smile.
His attack hadn't been light by any means. Proof was the blood trickling from Han Bin's arm.
Yet he was smiling?
It was pure, unadulterated joy.
When had he last seen a warrior enjoy a spar like this?
Never in the lands south of the Yangtze, that was certain.
And that last technique Han Bin used wasn't ordinary either.
Yi Mu-myeong hadn't even seen where it came from.
He touched his waist.
He'd dodged the vital points at the last moment, but striking acupoints with a scabbard?
No rigid righteous sect technique would allow that. To him, it was a truly creative maneuver.
As Yi Mu-myeong began to acknowledge Han Bin, his eyes widened in realization.
This swordsman he was about to respect was a direct descendant of the Hebei Paeng Family.
A sword user from a famed blade house?
Yi Mu-myeong found it a shame.
Even as a young master candidate, would the Paeng Family truly accept a swordsman as family head in the final stage?
Impossible.
It was just like his own situation in the Henan Jeong Family.
Yi Mu-myeong could understand Han Bin.
This obsession with sparring was probably to vent the frustration bottled up inside.
He decided to give this young swordsman—who would represent Hebei one day—a proper match today.
Yi Mu-myeong's sword surged forward, sharp sword qi slicing into Han Bin's guard.
Pisuk!
In the blink of an eye, Han Bin vanished from his spot.
The utility of Lightning Flash from the Yongrin Sword Art!
Yi Mu-myeong's eyes widened further.
He unconsciously licked his lips.
Of course, Han Bin licked his lips too.
Though for a different reason.
Han Bin had spotted a new formula on Yi Mu-myeong.
Chaeng!
Chaeng!
The fierce exchange continued for a while.
Han Bin activated Lightning Flash again.
Five instances of Merit left now.
No telling how long the spar would last, but he had to extract every formula Yi Mu-myeong possessed.
Han Bin unleashed another hair-trigger technique.
Two instances of Merit remained.
Charging at Yi Mu-myeong like an arrow with the hair-trigger stance, Han Bin raised his scabbard again.
Yi Mu-myeong smirked at the sight. The same trick was too obvious now.
But Han Bin casually tossed the scabbard.
Tak!
Probably to reduce the motion's tell.
Han Bin's incoming sword bent at a right angle.
Not a thrust, but a horizontal push.
Yi Mu-myeong widened his stance to escape Han Bin's range.
That was when it happened.
Hwi cheong.
Yi Mu-myeong lost his balance.
'What?'
He quickly checked his feet and his eyes bulged.
Underfoot rolled the scabbard Han Bin had just thrown.
As he realized his mistake, Han Bin's sword tip shifted direction.
Hwik!
Facing the slicing blade cutting the air, Yi Mu-myeong shifted his center to his lower body with an iron plate bridge technique and arched his upper body back to dodge.
Now for the counterattack.
Yi Mu-myeong straightened and targeted Han Bin's legs with his sword.
Or tried to.
Han Bin's sword—which he'd thought had passed by—awaited at his chest. Specifically, the hilt.
Han Bin smashed Yi Mu-myeong's chest with the sword hilt.
Peok!
Dragon Eye (Longan) confirms the formula.
You have acquired Sword (sword) from the applied volume of the Yongrin Sword Art.
A smile spread across Han Bin's lips.
Yi Mu-myeong was the real big catch.
A recovery formula plus a new applied one!
But his smile was short-lived; he hurriedly escaped Yi Mu-myeong's range.
Pang!
Yi Mu-myeong charged like a wild horse, his sword whistling through the air.
The training ground echoed nonstop with clashing metal.
After the prolonged spar, Han Bin had only one instance of Merit left.
Once it was gone, he'd have to bow out gracefully.
How much time had passed?
Chaeng!
Their swords met.
Han Bin knew this was the final clash.
With only one Merit remaining.
Then, their blades tangled oddly.
The two swords stuck like magnets.
Seuseuseuk.
The onlookers' eyes widened.
The technique duel had shifted to a contest of inner power.
Blue qi at the sword tips clashed evenly.
As qi surged into his blade, Han Bin's last Merit vanished.
That was when it happened.
Inner power stirred in his dantian and climbed up his sword.
Han Bin's eyes widened.
He'd sensed his dantian qi as identical to the Yongrin Sword ArtMerit, but now realized they were distinct.
He'd never depleted his Yongrin Sword ArtMerit before, so it made sense.
In a way, an unexpected boon.
Han Bin's smile deepened. Yi Mu-myeong smiled back.
How long had it been since he'd swung his sword like this?
Victory no longer mattered.
He could feel his opponent's emotions through their locked blades.
Yi Mu-myeong felt like Zhongziqi from the tale of Boya breaking his strings.
Of course, Han Bin was staring into space, organizing his formulas.
That was when it happened.
Seureureuk.
The intertwined sword qi melted away like spring snow.
Han Bin and Yi Mu-myeong each stepped back a pace.
Han Bin spoke.
"Shall we call it here?"
"It was a pleasure."
Yi Mu-myeong clasped his hands in respect.
Both swordsmen's torsos were covered in cuts.
To the spectators, they looked like losers.
But both wore satisfied smiles.
Madam Jeonghwa, watching them, turned away with a huff.
"Hmph."
A thousand buddhas boiled in her chest right now.
Even if it was just six months, until then, Yi Mu-myeong was her blade.
Seeing him defy her kill order and show such courtesy infuriated her—she'd have to add another stroke to his tally.
To her, Yi Mu-myeong hadn't failed due to lack of skill.
He simply hadn't used his ultimate technique, Life-Breaking Single Strike.
Refusing to unleash a move that could maximally draw out his inner power and sever his foe's breath in one go was blatant insubordination.
Han Bin had clipped her two sons' wings.
If Yi Mu-myeong killed him now, both Paeng Mubin in the prison and Paeng Kyungbin in forced seclusion would be freed.
Madam Jeonghwa's breathing grew ragged.
That was when it happened.
Losing her reason, she snatched Yi Mu-myeong's sword and thrust it out.
Syung.
Everyone gaped as her blade aimed for Han Bin's heart.
As Han Bin sensed the killing intent and tried to dodge—
Tak!
Yi Mu-myeong grabbed her wrist.
"Madam, that's enough."
"How dare you..."
"The spar is over. Now I return to the Henan Jeong Family."
"......"
Yi Mu-myeong took the sword from her grasp and clasped hands toward Han Bin.
"Thank you for the lesson."
"The thanks are mine, great hero."
Han Bin bowed deeply.
He was leaving now because he'd grown sick of the family's politics, no doubt.
The warriors gathered to watch the spar began slamming their blades on the ground in unison.
Kung! Kung!
A tribute to the thrilling match.
Among them were law enforcement warriors and Mangho Squad subordinates.
As the sounds died down, Han Bin turned and shouted to his Mangho Squad warriors.
"Alright, time to eat!"
"Yes, sir!"
Jo Ho, at the front, bowed deeply.
As the warriors flowed toward the dining hall like an ebbing tide, Han Bin moved to leave too.
Then Yi Mu-myeong called out.
"Young Master Paeng, if I may overstep—the medical hall first, before the dining hall."
"Ah, food first..."
Han Bin trailed off.
Jo Ho and Jangsan were tugging his sleeves from both sides.
Glancing aside, Sim Miho sighed.
So Daeseop stared at the sky, pretending not to hear.
Han Bin turned back to Yi Mu-myeong.
"Then the medical hall it is."
"Yes. Shall we go together?"
Han Bin and Yi Mu-myeong headed to the medical hall side by side.
Medical Hall Leader Kim Mubyeong's worries had been piling up lately.
Their stockpiled herbs were running low.
Patients who'd trickled in over years were flooding in over just two days—it was exhausting.
They'd added one more physician, but with even more patients, it was still tough.
At the center of this storm was the youngest young master, Han Bin.
But he couldn't simply hate Han Bin—the hall's prestige had multiplied several times in just two days.
Han Bin was, in a word, a premium client.
Tiring, yes, but the incidents he caused boosted the hall's status proportionally. No helping it.
"Haah..."
At Kim Mubyeong's sigh, Jang Ja-myeong nearby tilted his head.
"Why the heavy sighing, elder?"
"Too hectic these past two days, no time to breathe. And no raise to show for it..."
"Elder, that's too easy a complaint."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever seen someone dump patients on you while you slept?"
"Come on, who does that?!"
Kim Mubyeong stared at him incredulously.
"What about patients barging in while you're in the bathroom?"
"Haha, too much joking."
"Or working yourself to death for a month without pay?"
"Enough, that's not funny."
Kim Mubyeong waved him off, then tilted his head. Jang Ja-myeong's eyes were misty.
Wiping them with his sleeve, Jang Ja-myeong continued.
"I've got three more years of that ahead."
"......"
Kim Mubyeong was speechless.
What Jang Ja-myeong described was less physician and more slave.
Then someone came dashing in, panting.