Call It a Draw
‘What in the world…!’
Cho-yeong made no effort to hide her fluster as she scrambled to regain control of the situation.
Until mere moments ago she had held the flow firmly in her grasp. Yet at some point the momentum had slipped askew. She tried to pinpoint what had gone wrong, where exactly the thread had frayed, but no clear answer came.
In that brief hesitation, Yoo Eunhyeon seized the opening without mercy. He stamped off the ground and closed the distance in a single bound; the settled currents of energy around them surged after him in perfect unison with his movement.
“Khah!”
Seeing him charge as though he had snatched victory itself, Cho-yeong became certain that the bizarre strike from earlier had been his doing.
‘I still don’t know what it is. But… something is scattered all around us. Hidden weapons?’
Invisible, yet every time she moved she felt a razor-edged sensation brushing past. Unseen danger was clearly laced through the space itself.
Even so, Cho-yeong was not one to yield so meekly.
Swaaah—
Her figure, which had been widening the gap from Yoo Eunhyeon, came to an abrupt halt. In the next instant explosive internal energy erupted from her dantian.
At the same time her sword twisted into a warped trajectory. It was the ultimate form of the Swift Returning Sword—Heavenly Projection—unfolding in full.
The empty air rippled as one. The single sword-shadow split into two, then three, then multiplied beyond counting. Countless phantom blades poured down like a rainstorm, blanketing the entire field of vision.
One by one, Yoo Eunhyeon’s Formless Shattering remnants were vanishing.
“Huk?”
As Cho-yeong stormed forward like a tempest, sword flashing, a startled breath escaped Yoo Eunhyeon’s lips before he could stop it. He had never expected her to push so brutally.
Yet his eyes soon settled into calm.
Choosing such a crude method… that was exactly what he had hoped for. If she meant to crush him with raw power rather than toy with him through illusions, at least he could read it.
To keep his gaze from being stolen by the dazzling cascade of phantoms, he lowered his breathing and refined his senses. He watched not with his eyes but with the flow itself. He sought only the single thread that carried true intent.
Amid the sword-shadows falling like a cloudburst, his spirit was honed to its absolute limit as he reached for that one decisive grain.
“Keuk…”
Gripping the hammer in both hands, Yoo Eunhyeon scraped up every last scrap of internal energy and swung to meet Cho-yeong’s true strike.
Kwaang!
A thunderous crash rang out as sword and hammer collided.
An impact beyond imagination slammed into him at once. His organs felt as though they had been flipped inside out; his body was driven skidding backward.
‘Kh… No way?!’
Barely suppressing the shock, he lifted his head—and found a faint smile curling at the corner of Cho-yeong’s lips. The look of someone who had anticipated everything. Yoo Eunhyeon clenched his teeth.
In truth, Cho-yeong’s movements had been constrained by the Formless Shattering, so she had never been able to project as many phantoms as she originally intended. Unable to unleash a complete Heavenly Projection, she had instead used the reduced number of illusions as bait. She deliberately revealed the location of her true strike so that he would read it—then poured every ounce of her power into that single point.
‘Damn it… I walked right into it!’
He had spent the entire fight slicing the flow with swift, subtle swordplay; he had never imagined she would finish by simply crushing him with force.
Strength drained from his entire body. His knees were about to buckle when the collision unleashed a raging torrent of natural energy that battered his senses raw.
In that fleeting instant a flash of insight streaked through him.
‘Hail!’
The disaster a farmer feared most—the one that could pulverize an entire season’s carefully tended grain in a single breath.
What crossed Yoo Eunhyeon’s mind in that moment was hail.
With the revelation came instinctive motion. He twisted his body and forcibly gathered the residual Formless Shattering energy still scattered through his dantian, hurling it outward without even a chance to refine it.
Like hailstones plummeting from the sky, the uncondensed, finely shattered fragments of shattering energy sprayed in every direction, raining toward Cho-yeong.
“Keuhk… Cough!”
Before he could even confirm the result, Yoo Eunhyeon collapsed and coughed up blood. His internal energy was completely spent; every inch of his body ached so fiercely he could not move.
Fighting any further was impossible.
Gritting his teeth, he used the hammer in his hand as a crutch. With no strength left even to stand, he simply regulated his breathing and forced his head up to glare at Cho-yeong.
“Well done.”
Cho-yeong slowly straightened her tattered clothing and regarded him with a look of quiet pride. Only minor cuts remained on her body. Bloodstains dotted her clothes here and there, yet none were fatal, and her complexion was still serene. Unlike Yoo Eunhyeon, who barely remained upright, her presence still held reserves of strength.
“In the end…”
Anyone could see the outcome was clear. Yoo Eunhyeon muttered in a drained voice. As she approached he closed his eyes tightly.
But her words came first.
“It’s a draw.”
“Pardon?”
Yoo Eunhyeon echoed the word, not understanding.
“A martial artist who loses hold of their weapon must acknowledge defeat.”
Only then did he notice the subtle change. Cho-yeong’s hand no longer held a sword.
He soon spotted her blade lying on the ground behind him.
So his final desperate thrash had not been entirely in vain.
Even so, it made no sense. Losing a weapon did not automatically mean defeat.
A farmer who dropped a tool did not simply abandon the day’s work. Doubt clouded Yoo Eunhyeon’s eyes.
“But…”
“I understand what Young Master means. Yet when one who lives by the sword lets that sword fall, in that instant they have already lost as a martial artist.”
At her words he could find no reply.
And when he realized that Cho-yeong, who had been calling him “Young Hero,” had somewhere along the way begun addressing him as “Young Master,” a strange emotion flickered through him. After a brief silence he steadied his breath and slowly pushed himself to his feet.
“I can fight no longer either. I accept my defeat.”
“Very well. Since both of us have lost, we shall call it a draw. It was a fine match.”
“I learned a great deal. Thank you.”
The final words were no empty courtesy.
What Yoo Eunhyeon had gained from this bout was immense. Techniques he had only ever sketched in his mind had been fully unleashed in real combat, and he had even grasped an unexpected enlightenment.
From this spar onward, the Yoo Eunhyeon of before and the Yoo Eunhyeon of now were, without exaggeration, different men.
“You’ve worked hard.”
Cho-yeong stepped close and wordlessly extended her hand. Taking it for a simple gesture of mutual effort, Yoo Eunhyeon clasped it without suspicion.
“…Huh?”
An alien texture brushed between their palms. Before he could even speak, Cho-yeong had already withdrawn her hand.
Fearing the object left behind might fall, he instinctively clenched his fist around it.
“What is this?”
“An access token of our cult.”
Yoo Eunhyeon stared at his hand with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because I believe Young Master is more than qualified to receive it.”
“I have no need of such a—”
“Whether you need it or not, you must accept it. Should you refuse to the end… as the one responsible, I would have no choice but to stake my life on completing my duty.”
She fixed him with a meaningful gaze. Crushed by that sharp look, Yoo Eunhyeon could only swallow hard, unable to utter a word.
He let out a small sigh and carefully opened his hand. Nestled in his palm was a round bead no larger than half a pinky joint.
Its deep, light-devouring hue was engraved with a dragon clutching a wish-granting pearl—so exquisitely crafted that even a glance revealed its immense value.
“I’ll hold onto it for now.”
With that he turned and walked toward Su Hwa-seon. Cho-yeong likewise retrieved her sword and headed toward Seong Jung-hyeok.
Seeing her approach, Seong Jung-hyeok asked,
“Are you acquainted with the young hero?”
“I don’t believe I’m obligated to answer that.”
At her reply Seong Jung-hyeok’s eyes narrowed slightly, yet he dared not press further. Though he was nominally in charge of this place, he could not treat Cho-yeong—who represented the Demonic Cult—carelessly.
In the end he stepped back and asked quietly, suppressing his sarcasm,
“I never expected you to draw.”
“It couldn’t be helped. You know I didn’t hold back, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting I should have endured the humiliation of refusing to admit defeat even after losing my weapon?”
“…You’ve worked hard. Rest a while.”
The moment the words left his mouth Cho-yeong moved to a nearby tree and settled herself. The aftertaste of the just-finished bout still lingered through her body; she drew several deep breaths and circulated her internal energy.
Seong Jung-hyeok slowly turned his head toward Su Hwa-seon.
‘One loss, one draw… Even if I win, it ends in a stalemate.’
With Ju Yu-ryeon having claimed one victory and Yoo Eunhyeon securing a draw, the result was already as good as decided.
‘Damn it… I’ve been completely outplayed.’
His mind went blank. Every strategy and calculation he had prepared had crumbled to nothing in an instant.
Su Hwa-seon seemed to see straight through his thoughts as she approached at a measured pace and met his gaze directly.
A subtle smile touched her lips. Her eyes held both resolve and composure, without the slightest tremor.
“The contest already appears decided. Is there any need to waste further strength?”
Seong Jung-hyeok drew a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. In the place where the meaning of the spars had already vanished, only Su Hwa-seon’s cool smile and the uncertain match still ahead remained.
He tried to steady himself, but a hollow emptiness crushed his spirit.
At last he spoke in a low voice.
“…Very well. Let us end the spars here.”