Dear Sisters
The preparations for the duel were completed in an instant. This was a duel requested by a direct descendant of the Sichuan Tang Clan, who had gone so far as to wager his own manhood to avenge his family's honor. To show they had spared no effort, the organizers finished setting up the spectator stands and even laid down a formation with the help of the Jegal Clan. Though it was only a temporary installation, the members of the Jegal Clan were highly confident, assuring everyone it would be more than enough to prevent any stray attacks from the young experts from reaching the audience.
Stepping onto the makeshift stage, Moyong Geon's expression was far from pleasant. It was only natural; not only had he been dragged here against his will, but Dang Hwi had also dragged him into a mudslinging match. There was no way he could be in a good mood. Dang Hwi, on the other hand, merely smirked as he looked at him.
"Why the long face, Brother Moyong? Your face is already intimidating enough as it is; you should at least put on a smile. Come on, smile a little."
"...You are far more cunning than I thought. Dragging your opponent into a trap of your own making with a wager they couldn't possibly ignore... It's like looking at a true strategist rather than a mere gambler."
"Whatever do you mean?"
Seeing Dang Hwi tilt his head as if he genuinely had no idea what he was talking about, Moyong Geon shuddered, goosebumps breaking out over his skin.
"Enough. The more I talk to someone of your breed, the deeper I sink into the mire. Let us end the pleasantries here. It is time to begin the duel."
Sring. Moyong Geon drew his sword and took his starting stance. Dang Hwi also lowered his posture, slipping hidden weapons between his fingers as they slid out of his sleeves. As a heavy silence settled between the two, Jegal Hye, acting as the referee in her capacity as the vanguard, unfurled her fan to signal the start of the duel.
I will overwhelm him relentlessly with the Seven Stars Swordplay! If I don't give him the time to draw and throw his weapons from his sleeves, this victory will be mine easily.
The moment the start was announced, Moyong Geon lunged forward. He had no intention of killing Dang Hwi, but he fully intended to break a bone or two. His reckless charge was reminiscent of a wild boar. As Moyong Geon tore through the air, Dang Hwi surprisingly leaped straight toward him.
"What?!"
Caught off guard for a split second, Moyong Geon watched as Dang Hwi unleashed his hidden hand. Phut-phut-phut! Dang Hwi fired all six hidden weapons held in his hands. The projectiles flew like shooting stars, imbued with an internal energy so dense it was visible to the naked eye.
The Peak Realm? So he did have some reason to be confident...!
But not all experts in the Peak Realm were created equal. He must have thrown them while closing the distance on purpose to catch me off guard! If thrown from afar, the projectiles would be easy to track due to the distance. However, because Dang Hwi was actively closing the gap while releasing them, tracking them with the naked eye was incredibly difficult. Any ordinary martial artist would have been helplessly defeated by this single move.
"Do you take me for some second-rate amateur?!"
The greatest strength of the Seven Stars Swordplay lay in its fluid, unbreakable defensive links. It was a tactical style that pressured and crushed opponents by solidifying defense based on rock-solid fundamentals. This was the signature sword style of the Moyong Clan, forged to defend the Central Plains against the barbarians invading from the steppes beyond Liaoning. Thus, a mere trick like this could never pierce the iron wall of the 'Iron Dragon,' Moyong Geon.
Clang! "Ngh?!" The hidden weapons were far heavier than he had anticipated. Clang! Clash! "Kh...!" Every time he deflected a dagger, the internal energy infused within them sent tremors through his body, nearly causing internal injuries. He continuously parried the flying daggers that aimed for his vital points—spots that, while not immediately fatal, would easily incapacitate him if even a single one connected. True to the name of the Seven Stars Swordplay, his sword moved in elegant, fluid arcs to block the daggers. Claaaaang! He finally succeeded in deflecting every single dagger, standing as firm and unyielding as a constellation in the night sky.
The moment he endured the onslaught and tried to reach Dang Hwi, Thwack! White light flashed before his eyes. "Ack?!" While Moyong Geon had been busy deflecting the daggers, Dang Hwi had closed the distance even further, slipping past the reach of his sword to deliver a direct punch to his face.
"Do you think I only know how to swing a sword?!" Since they were too close for him to swing his sword effectively, Moyong Geon immediately let go of his weapon and began to trade punches with Dang Hwi. At first, he struck back using the systematic fist paths of the boxing style he had learned from his clan. Thud! Thack! Bam-bam-bam-bam!
However, for every two punches Moyong Geon landed, Dang Hwi landed four. Furthermore, the bone-chilling pain that accompanied every single blow was more than enough to disrupt his martial forms. Judging by how Dang Hwi showed no signs of exhaustion and instead seemed to overflow with energy, he certainly wasn't using the Internal Heavy Hand Technique. Yet, the overwhelming pain forced Moyong Geon to shrink back, his punches devolving into wild, desperate swings. To any onlooker, it was a brawl completely devoid of technique. In vulgar terms, it was a dogfight. The crowd watched in stunned silence at this un-duel-like duel, where raw, unadorned violence was laid bare.
"Aaaaargh...! Just fall already...!"
"You first, my friend!"
"You crazy bastard?!"
To Moyong Geon, Dang Hwi felt like an unyielding iron wall that refused to crumble no matter how many times he was hit, prompting him to let out a cry that was closer to a scream. On paper, he was winning the exchange of blows, but the sheer pain was excruciating. Just as Moyong Geon was holding on by sheer pride, fighting back tears of agony, he suddenly froze. Gurgle-gurgle. "Hup?!" An indescribable terror surged from the depths of his stomach.
P-Poison? How is it affecting me?! I clearly have the Avoid-Poison Pearl in my mouth...! Since Dang Hwi was in the Peak Realm, his poison techniques could certainly affect him. But knowing he was visiting the Tang Clan, hadn't he gone out of his way to rent a high-grade Avoid-Poison Pearl from the Murim Alliance? Never expecting to be poisoned despite holding the pearl, Moyong Geon desperately clenched his gluteal muscles. As he hastily retreated from the brawl, Dang Hwi wore a sinister smile. It's finally taking effect.
Dang Hwi had already anticipated that Moyong Geon would be carrying an Avoid-Poison Pearl. After all, even representatives of minor sects came equipped with them; there was no way Moyong Geon, who knew full well there was bad blood between them, would show up empty-handed. That was why Dang Hwi hadn't used poison—he had used medicine. It might have looked like a brainless thug's brawl, but the reality is quite different. It hurts like hell, but his body is actually in peak condition right now. Through his punches, Dang Hwi had performed Chugung Gwahyeol, an advanced bloodway stimulation technique that circulated energy to cleanse the marrow and reconstruct the body. Of course, performing Chugung Gwahyeol while actively pummeling someone was infinitely more difficult than the standard method. Naturally, Dang Hwi hadn't gone through all this trouble out of the goodness of his heart.
"Wh-What did you do to my body?"
"I figured you had prepared an Avoid-Poison Pearl. So, I used medicine instead of poison."
"M-Medicine...?" Moyong Geon stared blankly, having never imagined that medical techniques would be brought up in a duel.
"I trust you didn't actually think my punches were just simple, brainless swings. Surely you have enough brains to realize that much."
"..." Moyong Geon shut his mouth, suddenly made to feel like he lacked even that basic level of intelligence.
"It is, of course, a medical technique that stimulates the bloodways. The only difference is that instead of tapping them gently, I hammered them with my fists."
"What difference does that make?"
"Since the punches were rough, the results are naturally... intense. As the saying goes, too much of a good thing is as bad as too little. For example..." Dang Hwi sneered, clearly reading Moyong Geon's current state. "Your newly revitalized large intestine might become so hyperactive that you suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to defecate."
"?!"
Moyong Geon's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His face turned pale, and cold sweat poured down his neck—a picture of absolute terror.
And for good reason. If he kept taking those punches, a certain 'eagle's wings' might flap right here on the stage. Prostrating himself in his underwear in the middle of the street before his ex-fiancée was already a form of social execution. But defecating mid-duel with a loud, wet splat? That went beyond social death; it was the death of his very existence as a martial artist. Not only would his path to becoming the young patriarch of his clan vanish into thin air, but marriage would also become an impossibility. Who would ever want to marry a man rumored to be a 'poop-pants' who soiled himself during a fight? Realizing the sheer gravity of his predicament, Moyong Geon's face contorted in sheer despair.
"What will it be? Will you surrender and fulfill the conditions? Or..." Dang Hwi asked with a sly, wicked grin. "Will you keep fighting me and shit your pants right here?"
"..." Moyong Geon's vision went dark. Whichever option he chose, it was the absolute worst. Because of that, Dang Hwi could easily predict his next move.
"Do you think I would ever submit?!" Moyong Geon spun around, throwing himself forward to quickly retrieve the sword he had dropped during the brawl. A cornered rat will bite a cat. But when a rat mistakenly believes itself to be the cat, how could it not struggle? Watching him act exactly as calculated, Dang Hwi sneered inwardly. As Moyong Geon desperately plotted to secure a swift victory with his sword and rush to the latrine, Dang Hwi slipped his hand back into his sleeve. Phut-phut-phut! He unleashed his cow-hair needles directly at him.
Moyong Geon's eyes flared. He charged forward, unleashing sword qi in all directions. Creating a veritable wall of sword light, he deflected the cow-hair needles and swung his sword downward the moment Dang Hwi entered his range.
"Did you know?" Swish. Dang Hwi lightly shifted his footing.
"What?!" Moyong Geon gasped in shock as Dang Hwi slipped completely out of his sword's trajectory—as if he had known beforehand exactly where the blind spot of the sword style lay. Moving as if he held the perfect counter to the Seven Stars Swordplay, Dang Hwi left Moyong Geon utterly dumbfounded. Clenching his fist, Dang Hwi whispered softly, "Brother Moyong, I truly envy how deep the brotherly love in your family runs."
"What?! Wait, what do you mean by—!" Moyong Geon never got to finish his sentence. Thud! Dang Hwi's fist buried itself deep into his abdomen.
And then... Pffffft-splat-squelch.
"Oh my goodness!"
"No way! Did the Iron Dragon just shit himself?!"
"...Was he really that desperate?"
"This must be the first time in the history of the Jianghu that a 'Shit Dragon' has been born."
Moyong Geon looked as if his entire world had crumbled to dust.