Chapter 68
Thud.
Yi Gok, his breath cut short, collapsed face-first onto the floor. Simultaneously, the guest inn was engulfed in a suffocating silence.
Clink.
Yet Bu Eun-seol acted as if nothing had happened, sheathing his sword and descending the stairs.
—An extraordinary master of the Fast Sword has appeared.
The martial artists inside the guest inn watched Bu Eun-seol depart with gleaming eyes.
Another rising star to watch in the Martial Refinement Tournament had just emerged.
"Hohoho."
A young man who had been observing Bu Eun-seol's retreating figure nodded slowly.
"A unique Fast Sword technique, indeed. It utilizes reflexes as swift as lightning flames... I see."
The young man instantly discerned that Bu Eun-seol's single stroke differed from conventional Fast Sword techniques—it relied on elastic muscles and razor-sharp reflexes.
"But a Fast Sword alone won't be enough to survive where you're headed."
While others stood agape in astonishment, the young man remained unfazed.
Instead, he watched Bu Eun-seol's retreating back with a playful smile.
"Your future is still bright..."
Picking up his wine cup, he drained it in one gulp and murmured softly,
"I suppose I'll have to save one life."
At the heart of the Wandering Drifters' territory lay a vast grand plaza.
A massive structure stood in the open space, spacious enough to accommodate thousands—the martial arts stage and spectator stands.
Typically, martial stages were built high so that only distinguished guests could look down upon the fighters, while ordinary spectators had to crane their necks.
But the Martial Refinement Arena constructed by the Wandering Drifters was sunken, with stone-tiered seating surrounding it, allowing anyone to watch the matches with ease.
—Just looking at this martial stage shows how meticulous the Wandering Drifters are!
First-time attendees of the Martial Refinement Tournament exchanged impressed nods.
The Wandering Drifters, expanding their influence by welcoming unrivaled martial artists and wandering mercenaries.
A single glance at the arena they had built was enough to gauge their wealth and power.
"Greetings, fellow martial wanderers."
At that moment, a middle-aged man standing at the center of the martial stage spoke.
"I am Cho Mun-cheon, Chief Steward of the Wandering Drifters."
Lightly clasping his hands together, he continued.
"The Martial Refinement Tournament hosted by our Wandering Drifters has now reached its fourth iteration. This is all thanks to the kindness you, the martial wanderers, have shown us."
Though Cho Mun-cheon's voice wasn't loud, it carried clearly to the ears of everyone in the plaza, infused with internal energy.
"This tournament exists solely to spread the name of the Wandering Drifters throughout the martial world—we have no other purpose."
Pausing briefly, he resumed.
"Therefore, anyone may participate, regardless of martial seniority, age, or origin. However, all consequences of what transpires here are your own responsibility!"
Cho Mun-cheon proceeded to explain the tournament's rules at length.
First, anyone could participate without restriction by simply declaring their name. However, any issues arising here were solely their responsibility.
Second, to pass the preliminary rounds, one must defeat at least three challengers. Alternatively, if no challenger appears after half a ke (roughly 7.5 minutes), they automatically advance.
Third, once thirty-six preliminary winners are determined, a tournament bracket will be created, and two matches will be held per day.
Fourth, anyone who disrupts the Wandering Drifters' affairs or harms their mercenaries will be ineligible for the grand prize, even if they win.
"Now, let the Fourth Martial Refinement Tournament begin!"
—Cheers!
Ding!
As the gong on one side of the martial stage rang out, thunderous applause erupted.
Yet, despite the prolonged cheering, no one stepped onto the stage. Perhaps this was to be expected.
Even seasoned veterans would find mounting the stage daunting.
In an unripe atmosphere, a single misstep could lead to repeated blunders.
Swish!
At that moment, a young man in faded gray robes ascended the stage without hesitation.
It was Bu Eun-seol.
"Bu Eun-seol."
When Bu Eun-seol announced his name, Cho Mun-cheon's eyes flashed.
—The Fast Sword master who slew Yi Gok in a single stroke at the guest inn.
The Wandering Drifters' informants kept track of all martial artists present.
Hearing Bu Eun-seol's name, he nodded inwardly.
—He'll pass the preliminaries without issue.
If he could cut down the Everlasting Mountain Ghost in one move, his Fast Sword was already at a level worthy of renown in the martial world.
Since he had already demonstrated his skill in a guest inn filled with martial artists, he would advance smoothly.
"Excellent. Young Hero Bu."
Cho Mun-cheon called out loudly.
"Well then, is there no one who wishes to challenge Young Hero Bu?"
After a long wait, the result was as expected.
No challenger stepped forward, no matter how long they waited.
"Then I shall count to five!"
"Hold on."
At that moment, a shadow flitted onto the stage with a whoosh.
A young man clad in luxurious silk robes, adorned with exquisite ornaments from head to toe.
It was the same young man who had shared a table with Bu Eun-seol earlier.
"Do you wish to challenge him?"
At Cho Mun-cheon's question, the young man nodded.
"Indeed."
"Then state your name."
The young man straightened his shoulders and replied in a low voice.
"Yeong Ji-wi."
The moment the name left his lips, the martial artists gathered in the plaza erupted into murmurs.
—Yeong Ji-wi, one of the Great Righteous Experts from Diancang?
Instantly, the tournament grounds buzzed with excitement.
A Joint Heir raised with the full support of the Martial Alliance. One of the elusive eighteen Great Righteous Experts, whose movements were as untraceable as a divine dragon—and here he was, appearing at the Martial Refinement Tournament?
"You don't seem surprised, brother."
Yeong Ji-wi was taken aback by Bu Eun-seol's composed expression.
Since entering the martial world, he had never met anyone who didn't react with shock upon hearing his name.
"Did you already know who I was?"
Bu Eun-seol answered indifferently.
"Just that you're from the Diancang Sect."
Though Bu Eun-seol hadn't known Yeong Ji-wi was one of the Great Righteous Masters, he had guessed the man was a formidable master from the Diancang Sect—one worthy of astonishment.
The reason was simple: all Diancang Sect masters carried swords with unusually narrow blades and unusually short lengths.
'Ma-un. He too was a master of the Diancang Sect.'
An enemy, yet one who had sacrificed himself without hesitation, severing his own life without regret.
Bu Eun-seol carried a debt in his heart toward that ever-playful spy of the Righteous Faction.
And so, upon realizing this man was a warrior of the Diancang Sect, he had remained silent—no matter how talkative or discourteous the man's attitude.
"I see. You truly have sharp eyes, brother."
Yeong Ji-wi, who had been studying Bu Eun-seol, waved a hand dismissively.
"Ah! Don't misunderstand. I didn't step forward to harm you—I did it to protect you."
An absurd statement.
When Bu Eun-seol furrowed his brows, Yeong Ji-wi scratched his head sheepishly.
"As you know, this Martial Arts Tournament is a brutal event where lives aren't guaranteed. Your Fast Sword is impressive, but that alone won't be enough to endure."
Pausing briefly, Yeong Ji-wi broke into a bright smile.
"I haven't forgotten the courtesy you showed by sharing your table. I'm trying to save your life. There will be plenty of opportunities later—gain experience somewhere other than this tournament."
Shhhhk.
As Yeong Ji-wi drew his sword, a frigid energy spread in all directions.
Yeong Ji-wi, the Great Righteous Master of Diancang.
He had only become a disciple of the Diancang Sect at the late age of fourteen.
Yet, thanks to his dazzling talent, he gradually distinguished himself, and three years later, he became one of the sect's ten representative disciples and participated in the Great Righteous Master Tournament.
After becoming a Great Righteous Master, he trained for about a year and then immediately left the Martial Alliance.
Though he possessed innate martial genius, he had no desire to deepen his martial arts—he strongly preferred wandering the Martial World.
"Then let us begin!"
At that moment, Cho Mun-cheon's shout rang out.
Flash!
Yeong Ji-wi attacked like lightning.
But the blade did not strike Bu Eun-seol's neck—it merely grazed past it.
"Our sect's sword techniques also prioritize speed."
When Bu Eun-seol remained silent, Yeong Ji-wi assumed he was stunned by the speed of his Fast Sword and allowed a faint smile to curl his lips.
"Wouldn't it be better to forfeit? Must you taste defeat for no reason?"
No matter how exceptional Bu Eun-seol's Fast Sword might be, in Yeong Ji-wi's eyes, he was still a novice who had only just entered the Martial World. He couldn't possibly compare to a rising sun of the Righteous Faction—a Great Righteous Master.
Though Yeong Ji-wi spoke sincerely, from Bu Eun-seol's perspective, the words were laughable.
"You talk too much."
"Shall we begin, then?"
Yeong Ji-wi, the genius swordsman who had learned martial arts late yet ascended to the rank of Great Righteous Master.
With a confident smile, he extended his sword stroke.
"Be careful!"
Shhhhk!
With the sound of splitting wind, a blade of light shot toward Bu Eun-seol's chest.
The supreme sword art of Diancang—the Sun Shooting Sword Art—unleashed. A technique that could strike regardless of distance, fast as light itself.
Swish.
Yet Bu Eun-seol shifted lightly, evading the stroke with ease.
As if expecting this, Yeong Ji-wi twisted his blade chaotically.
Vrrrr.
The trembling sword transformed into mist, instantly sealing Bu Eun-seol's retreat. A flawless execution of the Sun Shooting Inevitable Kill—a decisive severance.
"Hm."
Bu Eun-seol observed the raining blade tips and stepped aside leisurely, as if taking a stroll.
Whirr!
Each time, the razor-sharp strokes merely grazed past him.
'What?'
Yeong Ji-wi's eyes widened as he watched.
'How does this man know every single trajectory of the Sun Shooting Sword Art?'
Bu Eun-seol's evasions weren't instinctive, nor were they footwork techniques.
He had completely discerned the Sun Shooting Sword Art's forms and trajectories, dodging each stroke in advance.
'Only one possibility.'
Yeong Ji-wi's mind raced even as his offensive slowed.
'This man has fought a master of our sect who used the Sun Shooting Sword Art—and survived hundreds of exchanges.'
The Sun Shooting Sword Art had never been leaked to outsiders.
Yet for Bu Eun-seol to see through every single form meant he had clashed with a master who wielded it—for a long, long time.
"Have you fought a master who used the Sun Shooting Sword Art before?"
Bu Eun-seol, who had been effortlessly evading Yeong Ji-wi's storm of swordplay, nodded.
"I have. Though he didn't use a sword—he used an odd weapon."
"An odd weapon?"
"Yet the variations in his forms and his speed were far more refined than yours."
Snap!
Finally drawing his own blade, Bu Eun-seol pierced through the flaw in Yeong Ji-wi's Sun Shooting Sword Art.
Clang!
With a sharp metallic sound, Yeong Ji-wi's technique was instantly disrupted.
Breaking an opponent's forms mid-battle by pinpointing their flaws was nearly impossible.
Not only did one need to grasp every stroke of the opponent's sword—they needed to be at least twice as fast in delivering their own attack.
'He's a far greater master than I assumed.'
Truthfully, Yeong Ji-wi had entered the martial world late, and due to his confidence in his talent, he had never deeply honed his martial arts.
But that was only in comparison to the Great Righteous Masters who stood above the world. Against any other master in the Martial World, his skill was unmatched.
"I underestimated you, brother."
The smile that had lingered on Yeong Ji-wi's lips faded, his expression shifting.
"Shall we get serious, then?"
Shhk!
Suddenly, Yeong Ji-wi's swordplay transformed.
It was a sword form as sharp as the Sun Shooting Sword Art—yet laced with countless hidden follow-up techniques.
'An intricate sword technique.'
For the first time, Bu Eun-seol employed footwork to evade the strokes.
Shhk-shhk-shhk!
But just as he thought he had dodged them all, the strokes shifted mid-air, raining down upon him once more.
"The Seven Severance Sword Form!"
Someone in the crowd watching the martial stage shouted.