Chapter 401
A heavy silence blanketed the martial arts stage.
Cheon Hwa-in was a first-generation disciple of the Mount Hua Sect, a martial prodigy whose talent was so exceptional that he had been selected as one of the Great Masters.
Having already entered the Transcendence Realm and mastered various advanced martial arts under the Martial Alliance, there was no one present who would rashly challenge him.
"Brother Tae. Step forward."
Cheon Hwa-in's gaze remained fixed on Tae Mu-ryong.
It seemed he still hadn't forgotten the humiliation he had suffered at the banquet hall.
"Very well."
Tae Mu-ryong ascended the stage without hesitation.
He had already steeled himself for defeat. Even so, he wanted to lose with dignity.
"Then, begin."
At Yuk Cheong-a's call, Tae Mu-ryong drew the iron rake from his waist.
But Cheon Hwa-in merely clasped his hands behind his back and spoke with leisurely composure.
"Make the first move."
"Young Hero Cheon should also draw his sword."
At Tae Mu-ryong's words, Cheon Hwa-in curled the corner of his lips and shook his head.
"If I draw my sword, you won't be able to execute even a single technique."
Tae Mu-ryong bit his lip.
Cheon Hwa-in's attitude was arrogant, but it wasn't empty bravado.
The razor-sharp momentum radiating from his body had already brought the taste of blood to Tae Mu-ryong's throat.
"Fine."
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Tae Mu-ryong began spinning his iron rake in a dazzling flourish.
A typical iron rake had five or six teeth, but the Four-Clear Gate's iron rake was fitted with ten sharpened blades.
Each tooth emitted a distinct, piercing force as he unleashed a relentless chain of attacks.
"Hahp!"
With a sharp cry, Tae Mu-ryong executed the Three Ponds Four Directions stance.
It was only proper not to immediately unleash lethal techniques against an opponent who hadn't even drawn his weapon.
First, he would establish a threatening presence with the Three Ponds Four Directions, then follow up with the decisive Thousand Ways and Hundred Stratagems in a continuous barrage.
Hmph—
But Cheon Hwa-in let out a short scoff and, in an instant, closed the distance until he was right in front of Tae Mu-ryong.
What—?!
Tae Mu-ryong was stunned—he hadn't expected his opponent to slip past the whirling shadows of his iron rake and close the gap so effortlessly.
At the same time, a brilliant white light erupted from Cheon Hwa-in's palms.
This wasn't a technique of the Mount Hua Sect, but rather a single move from the Mystic Transformation True-Life Palm, which the Martial Alliance had personally imparted to him.
BOOM!
The Mystic Transformation True-Life Palm consisted of deceptively simple techniques.
But each stance could channel immense internal energy, allowing the practitioner to release palm energy at blinding speed.
Caught off guard, Tae Mu-ryong swung his iron rake wildly to disperse the incoming force.
CRASH!Screeeech—!
But when the iron rake clashed with the palm energy, a deafening explosion sent Tae Mu-ryong flying off the stage.
Cheon Hwa-in had poured all of his internal energy into that single strike, releasing it in one overwhelming burst—and Tae Mu-ryong, unable to withstand it, was hurled backward.
"This match goes to Young Hero Cheon!"
At Yuk Cheong-a's declaration, Tae Mu-ryong, who had climbed back onto the stage, shouted in protest.
"What are you saying? I can still fight!"
He was furious.
He had only been pushed back because his internal energy was insufficient to withstand the sheer force of the attack.
Had this been a genuine contest, even if he had ultimately lost, he could have at least fought fiercely to the end.
But to halt the duel before he'd even had a chance to fight?
"Young Hero Tae. As I said, this isn't a life-or-death battle—it's merely a test to determine the level of one's martial arts."
But Yuk Cheong-a was firm.
"This match is over. Please return to your seat."
At this, not only Tae Mu-ryong but also the expressions of all those waiting to challenge Cheon Hwa-in hardened.
If the duel was to be stopped simply because of a disparity in martial prowess—then who could possibly stand against Cheon Hwa-in?
They would all be defeated in a single move anyway.
Murmur, murmur...
Discontented whispers filled the hall.
Yet no one stepped forward to challenge Cheon Hwa-in, and in the end, he advanced effortlessly to the main tournament.
"Are there no more challengers?"
Swish—
Then, a man clad in resplendent silk robes stepped onto the stage.
It was Bu Eun-seol.
"Seon-u Jin of the Seonhwa Merchant House."
Clink, clink—
As if waiting for this moment, a man wearing unique armored gauntlets on his fists ascended the stage as well.
"Jo In-ung of the Break-Mountain Fist Sect."
Jo In-ung's eyes flashed as he took his stance.
In response, Bu Eun-seol lowered his posture slightly and met his gaze.
Once the two had readied themselves, Yuk Cheong-a wasted no time.
"Then begin!"
The moment her voice rang out—
WHOOM!
A powerful shockwave erupted from Jo In-ung's body.
Simultaneously, a razor-sharp wind surged toward Bu Eun-seol's face.
—Ooh!
Gasps erupted from the spectators surrounding the martial stage.
He hadn't even begun executing his fist technique—merely settling into his stance—yet he was already unleashing such overwhelming momentum?
If he truly unleashed his fist technique, wouldn't it produce the devastating might of a Heaven-Collapsing Strike?
'Break-Mountain True Fist.'
Bu Eun-seol's lips curled into a bitter smile.
He had instantly discerned Jo In-ung's martial art.
Break-Mountain True Fist.
The supreme fist technique of the Break-Mountain Fist Sect, capable of emitting fist aura powerful enough to topple Mount Tai once mastered to the Great Origin Realm.
However, it was notoriously difficult to master, and the forms one could execute were restricted by one's level of Internal Energy.
Because of this, despite possessing an exceptional fist technique, the Break-Mountain Fist Sect was gradually declining in influence.
But Jo In-ung possessed extraordinary talent and had cultivated profound Internal Energy, mastering the Break-Mountain True Fist to at least the Eighth-Star Attainment.
And now, he sought to elevate the sect's prestige by becoming a unit chief in the Martial Alliance.
"Be careful."
Jo In-ung, radiating terrifying momentum, spoke to Bu Eun-seol.
"A fist has no eyes."
Instead of replying, Bu Eun-seol merely smiled faintly—
Step. Step.
Then, abruptly, he began walking slowly toward Jo In-ung. His finger extended leisurely toward the man's chest.
Twitch.
Yet Jo In-ung didn't move—only his eyes widened in shock.
—Why isn't he dodging?
The onlookers wore puzzled expressions.
Why, despite his opponent closing in, did Jo In-ung only continue exuding his fearsome aura without executing a single fist technique?
Sssk.
Finally, Bu Eun-seol's fingertip touched an acupoint near Jo In-ung's chest.
"Do you admit defeat?"
If Bu Eun-seol channeled his Internal Power into that finger now, Jo In-ung would suffer severe injuries.
Tremble.
Jo In-ung shuddered, unable to move forward or retreat.
But with his opponent's finger already pressed against him, no matter what method he employed, it was no different from admitting defeat.
"I lose."
Jo In-ung clasped his hands together, his face burning with shame.
Then he hastily retreated from the martial stage.
—This can't be!
The spectators gaped, exclaiming in disbelief.
Jo In-ung's stance had been brimming with such ferocious momentum it seemed capable of splitting the heavens and shattering the earth.
Moreover, he was a renowned master in the Haeju region—an undefeated fist artist who had never once tasted defeat.
Yet he had frozen in place, unable to evade the finger of Bu Eun-seol, who had approached him so casually?
Could it be that Bu Eun-seol's martial arts had reached a divine level, suppressing Jo In-ung's acupoints with sheer momentum alone?
'A bit unfortunate.'
Bu Eun-seol clicked his tongue as he watched Jo In-ung hastily flee the stage.
'But at least he'll realize the weakness of the Spirit Wave Break-Mountain Form now.'
The reason he had subdued Jo In-ung in a single countermove—
It wasn't just because his martial arts were superior.
It was because he, too, had mastered the Break-Mountain True Fist to perfection.
After all, among the secret manuals of the Martial Emperor's Secret Vault was none other than the Break-Mountain True Fist.
'The Spirit Wave Break-Mountain Form must never be used in actual combat.'
Though the Spirit Wave Break-Mountain Form was the most powerful technique of the Break-Mountain True Fist, its preparatory motion for gathering Internal Energy was far too lengthy.
To conceal this flaw, the starting stance involved unleashing overwhelming momentum across the entire body.
But Bu Eun-seol, who had already seen through the form's weakness, hadn't been fooled by the starting stance. He had simply extended his hand leisurely and suppressed Jo In-ung.
This wasn't to humiliate him—it was to teach him that the Spirit Wave Break-Mountain Form should never be used in real battle.
"He read the opening move and seized control of the momentum."
From the spectator seats, Yuk Jang-cheon nodded in approval.
He immediately recognized that Bu Eun-seol hadn't employed some extraordinary technique—he had simply exploited a flaw in Jo In-ung's fist art.
"Are there any other challengers?"
As Yuk Cheong-a stepped forward again and called out—
Swish.
A tall, rail-thin man ascended the martial stage like a skewered stick.
"I am Hae Jang-cheong."
The moment his name echoed through the arena, another wave of astonishment swept the crowd.
The Peerless Swift Sword, Hae Jang-cheong.
A renowned master of fast sword techniques from Shaanxi.
Though he had only entered the Martial World a year ago, he had already engaged in thirty duels against Shaanxi's finest.
And in each one, he had claimed victory with a single stroke.
While his prowess as a swift swordsman was well-known, his sect remained a mystery.
Yet given his invitation to the Distinguished Talent Assembly, it was clear he was an heir to an orthodox sect.
"Begin!"
At Yuk Cheong-a's shout, Hae Jang-cheong extended his hand.
"Make your move first."
His gaze was sharp and piercing. In response, Bu Eun-seol gave a slight nod.
"Very well."
Swish!
With that, he lightly unfurled the folding fan he was holding and covered his face.
Hae Jang-cheong took his stance and waited, but even after a considerable time, there was no sign of an attack.
Finally, Hae Jang-cheong, who had been patiently waiting, furrowed his brow.
"Are you forfeiting the match?"
At his words, Yuk Cheong-a stepped forward.
"Young Hero Hae. You've already lost."
"What nonsense is this all of a sudden?"
Instead of answering, Yuk Cheong-a pointed at Hae Jang-cheong's sleeve.
He tilted his head in confusion before looking down.
"No."
Hae Jang-cheong's eyes widened in shock.
Without him realizing, his sleeve had been cleanly sliced into two pieces.
"Wh—when?"
"When you offered the first move, Young Hero Seon-u covered his face with the fan and threw a flying dagger. But you failed to notice."
Hae Jang-cheong's eyes bulged in disbelief.
All he had seen was the slight motion of the fan covering the face. When had the dagger been released?
"...Is this not deception?"
Hae Jang-cheong bit his lip.
"Pretending to cover his face with a fan while secretly throwing a dagger? How can this be the honorable technique of a righteous faction?"
"Young Hero Hae."
Yuk Cheong-a swept her gaze over him, her eyes laced with disdain.
"The art of flying daggers is, by nature, a method meant to be unpredictable and sudden. The fact that you only saw the motion of the fan means you failed to perceive Young Hero Seon-u's opening move at all."
Her voice was cold as she continued.
"Had Young Hero Seon-u aimed for your throat, you would already be dead. Would you still call it deception then?"
Shudder.
Hae Jang-cheong trembled faintly before turning away with a humiliated expression.
"I concede."
And with that, he slowly walked off the martial stage.
This really isn't something worth doing.
Bu Eun-seol watched Hae Jang-cheong leave, shoulders slumped like a failed scholar, and felt a twinge of guilt.
No matter how grandly the Distinguished Talent Assembly was framed, it was still just a gathering of promising young martial artists.
But he—he was a grandmaster belonging to the Four Gods and Seven Kings. In terms of skill, his true opponents weren't these youths, but...
The Hall Master of the Hall of Martial Ascension seated in the spectator stands—the Palm King, Yuk Jang-cheon. He was the one Bu Eun-seol should be measuring himself against.
And yet, here he was, sparring with these novices.
From his perspective, it felt like a grown man bullying children.
"Are there no other challengers?"
When no one else stepped onto the martial stage after a long silence, Yuk Cheong-a called out.
"Young Hero Seon-u has passed the preliminary round."
Bu Eun-seol lightly clasped his hands together and descended from the stage.
"His martial arts may not be of the highest caliber, but he is exceptionally skilled in combat. He remains utterly composed, without a trace of tension."
From the spectator stands, Yuk Jang-cheon watched Bu Eun-seol step down and remarked to Gu In-jeong with an admiring expression.
"Moreover, his method of covertly releasing flying daggers could truly be called a peerless technique in the martial world."
"He's dealt with countless bandit gangs, so it's only natural."
As Yuk Jang-cheon showered praise, Gu Jeong-in spoke up in a dissatisfied tone.
"But composure and skill only take you so far—and only against opponents of similar caliber."
Yuk Jang-cheon let out a thoughtful hum, as if in agreement.
"True, he did face rather easy opponents."
In the first match, Jo In-ung had attempted to unveil his trump card, only to suffer an absurd defeat.
His second opponent, Hae Jang-cheong, had arrogantly yielded the first move and fallen victim to a cunning trick.
In truth, neither match had truly showcased Bu Eun-seol's martial prowess.
"Well, we'll see in due time."
Yuk Jang-cheon nodded and returned his attention to the matches.
The Distinguished Talent Assembly's duels didn't have their results made public—they were closer to examinations meant to select a Third-grade Commander for the Martial Alliance.
Because of this, if the difference in skill between two fighters was glaringly obvious, the match would be called off before a victor was even decided.
As a result, what would normally take days to complete was wrapped up in less than half a day.
"We will now begin the main tournament."
Since this wasn't a typical martial arts tournament, the proceedings moved swiftly.
Moreover, the rule of halting matches once martial prowess became evident meant there were no desperate, drawn-out battles—only peaceful, if somewhat monotonous, duels one after another.
Even in the main tournament, Bu Eun-seol fought smoothly.
Occasionally, unexpectedly skilled masters appeared, but from Bu Eun-seol's perspective, they were merely children executing clever attacks.
—His combat instincts were extraordinary, allowing him to handle everything with composure and ease.
That was the attitude Bu Eun-seol had established for Seon-u Jin.
Consistently emphasizing his abundant combat experience and quick thinking, honed from dealing with hordes of bandits.
And displaying the composure of a rising talent of the younger generation, unleashing power far beyond his initial martial forms.
After a series of duels, only two figures remained for the final match.
Seon-u Jin versus Cheon Hwa-in.
These two would now face each other in the decisive battle.
"Young Hero Seon-u. Young Hero Cheon. Please step onto the martial arts stage."
The final match, too, was to be swift.
The last duel to select the Martial Alliance's new commander had begun.
Swish.
As Bu Eun-seol lightly unfolded his movement technique and stepped onto the stage, he could see Cheon Hwa-in standing imposingly before him.
"I look forward to learning from you."
When Bu Eun-seol politely offered his greeting, Cheon Hwa-in merely pressed his palms together lightly without a word in return.
This was no ordinary martial tournament—they were merely competitors vying for the commander's seat.
It seemed he had no intention of exchanging pleasantries or building rapport.
「If you're truly a personage of the Upper Realm, why not stick to rattling your abacus?」
Then, Cheon Hwa-in's icy voice transmission rang in Bu Eun-seol's ears.
「Don't foolishly cling to a tree you can't climb, only to fall and break your neck.」
Instead of replying, Bu Eun-seol merely smiled faintly.
Cheon Hwa-in's mood soured instantly.
That smile was far too composed and indifferent.
'A newborn pup doesn't know to fear the tiger.'
He had watched Bu Eun-seol's fights closely.
Skilled in combat, dazzling in technique—his victories were merely the result of that. His martial arts didn't seem superior to his own.
Moreover, his True Void wasn't a folding fan—it was merely the Flying Dagger Art, concealed in his sleeves.
Given the nature of the Flying Dagger Art, which required silencing the enemy in a single strike, the confined space of the martial stage was an extremely disadvantageous battleground.
"Then, begin!"
Yuk Cheong-a's shout echoed, but neither of the two moved an inch, standing firm.
Sshhhk.
As Cheon Hwa-in drew his sword, sharp waves of sword qi gradually began rising from his body.
The air on the stage grew cold and heavy, as if a frigid, murderous wind had begun to blow.
But Bu Eun-seol wasn't looking at Cheon Hwa-in—he was staring at his hands.
The Mount Hua Sword Technique was the most agile and razor-sharp among orthodox sword arts, and its forms erupted unpredictably.
A single lapse in focus, and one's head could roll before they even realized it.
Of course, if Bu Eun-seol were fighting at his true strength, he wouldn't even need to watch the hands.
'He knows quite a bit about our sect's sword techniques.'
Cheon Hwa-in's lips curled slightly when he noticed Bu Eun-seol's intense scrutiny.
'But he shouldn't forget—I am one of the Great Righteous Experts.'
In that instant, Cheon Hwa-in's right hand flashed.
Before anyone could react, the longsword in his grasp shot forth explosively, aimed straight at Bu Eun-seol's chest.
Swish—!
Bu Eun-seol retreated about ten feet as if he dared not face that sharp initial strike.
But Cheon Hwa-in clung to him like a ghost, unleashing a relentless barrage of sword strokes.
Flash! Flash!
Brilliant glows erupted as icy sword winds, sharp enough to flay skin, howled past Bu Eun-seol's left and right.
This wasn't the Mount Hua Sword Technique—it was the Seven Severance Sword Form, imparted to him by the Martial Alliance.
'It's been a while.'
A faint memory surfaced in Bu Eun-seol's mind as he observed those razor-sharp sword strokes.
The Seven Severance Sword Form.
Wasn't this the very technique Yeong Ji-wi, Diancang's Great Righteous Expert from the Martial Arts Tournament, had once used against him?
Tap.
Fully aware of the lethality of the Seven Severance Sword Form, Bu Eun-seol swiftly lifted himself mid-air, evading the cascading sword qi.
Swish—!
At the same time, a sharp gleam erupted from his sleeve as two daggers shot forth simultaneously—one aimed at Cheon Hwa-in's brow, the other at his lower abdomen.
Clang!
Cheon Hwa-in deflected the daggers with his longsword, and Bu Eun-seol landed safely below the stage.
A simple yet ingenious method—cutting off the endless chain of the Seven Severance Sword Form's techniques.
'This bastard.'
Cheon Hwa-in's eyebrows shot up when Bu Eun-seol blocked the technique so effortlessly it bordered on mockery.
'Does he truly intend to fight me seriously?'
Originally, Cheon Hwa-in's plan was to display overwhelming martial prowess in this tournament, silencing any criticism of the biased commander selection.
But if he ended up locked in a fierce battle with this nameless successor of a merchant group?
Not only would rumors spread, but he'd also lose face before Elder Gu, who had trusted him to handle this matter.
'I can't afford to drag this out!'
Cheon Hwa-in raised his sword high, summoning his internal power.
He wouldn't waste time—he would end this duel in a single stroke with his signature technique: the Dark Fragrance Sparse Shadow Sword.
'How dare he?!'
A flash ignited in Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
To dare use that sword technique—the very one that had turned Yeong Mun-ho into a cripple—right before him?
His chest burned like a divine forge, and uncontrollable killing intent erupted within him.