Chapter 70: Blood Wolf Young Master (4)
While everyone held their breath, Han Bin and Se Jaeo took a step back.
They glared at each other, sword tips pointed squarely at their foes.
Then, Se Jaeo's sword tip slowly lowered.
Clang!
His blade struck the ground.
Or more precisely, it propped up his collapsing body.
He spoke softly.
"I was the one lacking in this spar."
"Thank you for acknowledging it."
Han Bin bowed his head politely this time.
With those words, the crowd finally exhaled and began clapping.
Clap, clap.
Clap, clap.
This was praise for warriors who had ignited their indomitable spirits.
At that moment, Jeong Changmyeong of the Jeomcheong Sect rose from his seat.
He gripped his sword in his right hand and struck the ground.
Thud. Thud.
Clapping alone wasn't enough, in his mind.
Such atmospheres are contagious. Yi Jinmyeong beside him followed suit, striking the floor with his sword.
Thud.
Suddenly, the area around the training ground echoed with the sound.
Thud! Thud!
It was like the march of a thousand armies.
Paeng Daewi, who had overseen the match as referee, hadn't yet declared the verdict.
The outcome was clear, but he wanted to savor the lingering excitement.
As the cheers for the two subsided, Paeng Daewi shouted.
"This spar is concluded! The victor is Paeng Hanbin of the Hebei Paeng Family."
Infusing his voice with inner power, Paeng Daewi raised his staff high.
Boom!
Though the match had ended, no one left their seats.
Even Yi Jinmyeong of Kunlun stared blankly at the training ground.
Then, a cough came from beside him.
"Ahem."
Turning, he saw Lady Jeonghwa covering her mouth.
As if hiding her expression. But her eyes betrayed her.
Seeing her trembling gaze, Yi Jinmyeong turned away.
Lady Jeonghwa's voice pierced his ear.
"Did you enjoy the show?"
"Now that the spar is over..."
Yi Jinmyeong trailed off. He realized the soul-stirring duel had ended, and reality beckoned.
He quickly continued.
"It seems we can't offer much help."
"Do you think this spar was fair, great hero?"
Lady Jeonghwa narrowed her eyes.
She meant to crush him with power, not skill.
Meanwhile, something else unfolded on the training ground.
Han Bin and Se Jaeo hadn't left.
Se Jaeo, having exhausted every shred of his inner power, looked ready to collapse.
Han Bin wasn't much better off.
The blood trickling down his sleeve had stopped, but his red martial robe was soaked crimson.
In some ways, Han Bin appeared more gravely injured.
But he had a bit of leeway.
[Recovery: 2]
He had two formulas left for healing utility, having consumed the rest. Of course, he had no inner power left for "miraculous revival."
Not enough to deploy techniques, but not on the brink of death either.
Han Bin stepped toward Se Jaeo and extended his hand.
Anyone could see he meant to support him.
The crowd's eyes welled up at the heartwarming end to the duel of two fiery warriors.
Se Jaeo reached out to accept the aid.
"Thank you."
But an unexpected twist occurred.
Instead of grasping his hand, Han Bin stepped back, palm open.
"Hold on a moment, great hero."
"What's wrong?"
"Don't you forget something?"
"Forget...?"
Se Jaeo tilted his head, then glanced at the scabbard on the ground and continued slowly.
"Were you going to pick up my scabbard? Appreciated."
"No, our wager."
"Wager?"
"You promised to give me that sword. Plum Blossom Three Realms, was it?"
"......"
Se Jaeo gaped, speechless.
Only now did he recall the pre-spar agreement.
But that was then—this was now. Hadn't they bonded through the heat of battle, beyond mere swords?
He hadn't expected Han Bin to demand the Plum Blossom Three Realms.
Of course, Se Jaeo wasn't the only one shocked.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"What? He's really asking for it?"
"Didn't this spar make them friends?"
As the murmurs grew, someone strode to the center of the training ground.
It was Jeong Changmyeong, elder of Jeomcheong Sect.
Step, step.
His footsteps rang out on the blue stone floor, as if deliberately infused with inner power.
All eyes turned to him, but he ignored them and approached Han Bin.
Then he glanced back.
Paeng Daewi stood there.
As Paeng Daewi tilted his head at the odd turn, Jeong Changmyeong declared.
"This spar is invalid."
At the third party's abrupt pronouncement, Paeng Daewi leaped to the center.
Landing, he stamped with inner power.
Thud.
The training ground shook.
Paeng Daewi asked.
"Elder, what did you say?"
His tone was cautious—Jeong Changmyeong's seniority outranked his own. But he couldn't let such nonsense slide.
Jeong Changmyeong waved dismissively, as if it were trivial.
"There's one reason I'm declaring this spar invalid."
"Please explain."
"The overseer is from the Hebei Paeng Family."
"Pardon? I agreed to witness this before the terms were set. Are you saying honoring that promise is wrong?"
"Think about it. This was a duel between Volcanic Sect and Hebei Paeng Family. Shouldn't a neutral third party officiate?"
"Elder, are you being unreasonable?"
"Not unreasonable—upholding murim decorum."
"I've never heard of such a rule in the jianghu."
Han Bin furrowed his brow at their exchange.
It was all too predictable.
He knew Lady Jeonghwa wouldn't come alone, and they'd pull some stunt even if he won.
The sword or plaque didn't matter now.
Lady Jeonghwa loathed Han Bin gaining fame from this victory more than death itself.
Instead of intervening, Han Bin glanced back.
Where Hong Chilgae waited, of course.
As Paeng Daewi and Jeong Changmyeong bickered on, the crowd frowned.
It felt like spending an hour on an ink wash painting, only to tear it in a blink.
Swish.
A shoe scraped the floor—then someone appeared behind the arguing pair.
Paeng Daewi stopped mid-sentence at the sudden figure.
Jeong Changmyeong did too.
It was none other than Hong Chilgae between them.
Hong Chilgae stared silently at Jeong Changmyeong.
Not kindly, so Jeong Changmyeong coughed awkwardly.
"Ahem. Who might you be, meddling in Kunlun and Hebei Paeng affairs?"
"You asking me?"
His refined attire clashed with street-thug speech.
A clear slight. Jeong Changmyeong's brow twitched.
"Who else is here?"
"Heh, kid. See the sights first, shed tears, or taste blood to come to your senses?"
Jeong Changmyeong gripped his scabbard. A gust swept the training ground.
Whoosh.
Hong Chilgae's robes fluttered.
Flutter.
"What..."
Jeong Changmyeong trailed off.
He'd spotted the knots at Hong Chilgae's waist sash.
One, two, three, four...
Counting, his eyes widened.
A sixth-generation Beggar Clan disciple—same seniority as himself.
No pushover.
Hong Chilgae whispered to him.
"Back in my youth..."
"Gasp."
Jeong Changmyeong's eyes bulged. He promptly bowed his head.
"My apologies, elder..."
Jeomcheong's elder slunk away dejectedly.
One might mistake him for the spar's loser.
Shamble, shamble.
Yi Jinmyeong asked the slumped Jeong Changmyeong.
"What happened?"
"......"
Jeong Changmyeong was speechless.
The white-robed old man's words echoed in his mind.
"I changed your diapers with your master."
Only one such man in his memory.
Hong Chilgae, disciple-less master.
Beggar Clan expert who lounged at Jeomcheong for half a year at a time, a notorious rascal.
Beaten black and blue by him as a child—under the guise of "lessons."
Could he win now?
Absurd. A top hundred murim master then; top ten now, no doubt.
Hong Chilgae had called Han Bin his disciple—same seniority as Jeong Changmyeong.
He scanned the surroundings.
He hadn't expected to be pushed around by someone of equal standing to sect leaders.
Nor Han Bin matching his own rank.
Jeong Changmyeong considered himself fortunate it ended here.
Lady Jeonghwa asked peevishly.
"Didn't go well?"
"Ahem. I'll withdraw from the Paeng youngest young master's matter. But I'll fulfill our Henan Jeong Family agreement as promised."
Steeled, Jeong Changmyeong rose.
Ignoring puzzled stares, he left Cheonsu Manor.
Chaos erupted anew around the training ground.
"What just happened?"
"No idea."
"Who was that white-robed elder?"
"A Wudang Taoist?"
"Nah, why would a Kunlun elder flee like that?"
"Debt collector?"
"Heh, could be."
As they speculated, Han Bin told Se Jaeo.
"Hand over the Plum Blossom Plaque too."
"Gasp."
Se Jaeo finally remembered the plaque wager, eyes widening.
It felt like a hammer to the back of his head.
Why bet the plaque too?
Regret flooded him—then the spar's start replayed.
Han Bin had clearly spat blood from his inner power clash.
That arrogance was etched in his mind.
But the duel that followed made that early sloppiness unbelievable.
What was this situation?
'Why? Why? Why?'
The same question swirled.
And then—
Gush!
Blood poured from his mouth.
Se Jaeo couldn't stand.
Thud!
He collapsed on the training ground.
As consciousness faded, the "why" vanished.
Oddly, today's spar replayed endlessly.
What did the sword matter? Or the plaque?
Even if he weren't the Plum Blossom Sword Sage!
Se Jaeo lost consciousness, grasping enlightenment's edge.
Han Bin signaled distant Jang Ja-myeong.
The physician dashed out like lightning.