Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Conducting the Sect Battle (2)
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Jeon Seong-jin of the Delicate Sword spread his arms wide, as if inviting anyone to come at him the moment the sparring declaration began.
Yang Yeon-hwa, taken aback by his sudden action, hesitated to step forward.
Tick, tick!
He even shook his sword, beckoning her to attack, flaunting his leisure.
From that sight, Yang Yeon-hwa instinctively realized it wasn't a trap or bait—Jeon Seong-jin was simply an idiot putting on airs.
[Yeon-hwa. Just show them all the skills you've built up without regret.]
With the Heavenly Demon's solid telepathic message added, there was nothing to fear.
With the stage properly set, Yang Yeon-hwa concentrated all the teachings and insights from the Heavenly Demon into a single sword strike and unleashed them explosively.
Taking advantage of Jeon Seong-jin's carelessness, she executed the Ghost Weep Shadow Pursuit Sword Technique without any interference, her mind at ease.
In the past, the Loyal Ghost Sword Yang U-ryang had pursued the martial way of the ultimate sword: the swift sword.
In other words, a sword faster and more perfect than anyone's.
Fwaaaaa!
Yang Yeon-hwa, descendant of Yang U-ryang, freely displayed the speed of the Ghost Weep Shadow Pursuit Sword Technique, heralding the return of the Loyal Ghost Sword.
"......!!"
Meanwhile, Jeon Seong-jin, who had smirked at Yang Yeon-hwa's sword, found his face stiffening with cold sweat as not only its immense speed but also the inner energy loaded into it proved no laughing matter.
'Was Yang Yeon-hwa this strong?'
The Yang Yeon-hwa he knew was merely a beautiful woman with unremarkable swordsmanship due to her rigid stanzas and forms—nothing more, nothing less.
Yet the extreme swift sword she now displayed was an attack he couldn't easily block even if he hadn't been careless, given his current skill.
The result!
Kwachik!
Jeon Seong-jin failed to react properly and yielded his shoulder to Yang Yeon-hwa's strike.
"Kuaaak!"
The truly pathetic sight began right then.
After mockingly wagging his sword without manners, inviting her to come at him, his shoulder pierced and bleeding profusely, he let out a scream.
Drip, drip!
Look at Yang Yeon-hwa's sword embedded in Jeon Seong-jin's shoulder.
Blood flowed like a waterfall, foretelling a severe wound.
"......!!"
Jeon Il-gwang, lord of the Fine Sword Sect and Jeon Seong-jin's father, who had watched the entire scene, was utterly flustered.
His son, raised like gold and jade—whom even he had never laid a hand on in training—now crumpled with a pierced shoulder. It felt utterly unreal.
"J-Jin-ah!"
Regaining his senses belatedly, Jeon Il-gwang finally tried to intervene in the spar.
Swipe!
But Yang Dae-un, standing beside him, raised a hand to stop him.
"Why are you blocking me?!"
Jeon Il-gwang shouted excitedly at his son's injury, which pained him more than having it in his own eye.
"The spar isn't over yet."
Unlike Jeon Il-gwang, who couldn't hide his agitation, Yang Dae-un remained remarkably calm.
"What?"
"Even injured, he hasn't declared defeat."
Yang Dae-un pointed that out.
"Intervening before the spar ends is the height of rudeness and tantamount to forfeiting the entire sect battle... Is that what you intend?"
Yang Dae-un asked.
Intervening in a spar meant not just forfeiting that match, but the entire sect battle.
It was a rule to prevent any potential interference or fouls in advance.
'Damn it!'
No matter how important his son, he couldn't hand over the Fine Sword Sect.
"Kuhk."
Seeing his son staggering on the ground, shedding tears, Jeon Il-gwang felt utter despair.
"I lost! We lost!"
In the end, Jeon Seong-jin crumbled after his rudeness, becoming the victim of an upset.
Having strutted around thinking himself superior, only to be devastated by a single sword strike—he wouldn't be able to show his face in Yonyeong Province anymore.
Woooaaah!
The spectators went wild as the first match of the sect battle, pitting the fates of Fine Sword Sect and Ghost Sword Manor, ended so anticlimactically.
"Puhahaha!"
"All that bluster, and he couldn't handle a single move?"
"The Fine Sword Sect Lord raised an idiot."
"But was Ghost Sword Manor's daughter this strong?"
"Yeah. Jeon Seong-jin is a solid later-generation talent anywhere."
As a result, Fine Sword Sect's honor plummeted to the ground, while Ghost Sword Manor received reevaluation and rose.
'We won!'
Meanwhile, Yang Yeon-hwa, who had unexpectedly claimed such an easy victory, felt a bit dazed.
This was almost her first official spar, and winning in front of so many people was a novel experience.
Perhaps that's why?
Her face flushed bright red.
"The thrill of victory. Remember this sensation well."
At that moment, the Heavenly Demon approached and gave her advice.
Those words were immensely important.
For Ghost Sword Manor and Yang Yeon-hwa, mired in the pit of decline and defeat, experiencing their first bout, first victory, and first joy was more crucial than anything.
The Heavenly Demon was teaching them how to win like that.
"Gun... Gunryong! I did it!"
As Yang Yeon-hwa rejoiced with her flushed face, the Heavenly Demon looked pleased.
Especially since her face, so like Yang U-ryang's, brimmed with joy—it filled him with pride.
Yet the Heavenly Demon did not act rashly.
After a brief celebration, he called Yang Dae-un, the Shadowless Sword and manor lord who would face the next bout.
"Dae-un."
"Yes, my lord."
"Look closely at that Jeon Il-gwang now. He's all riled up and flustered, isn't he?"
At the Heavenly Demon's words, Yang Dae-un observed Jeon Il-gwang fussing worriedly beside his injured son.
Though Yang Dae-un's realm and inner energy were superior due to elixirs, Jeon Il-gwang was a seasoned swordsman of many battles—not an easy opponent.
"Yes."
"One whose mind is hurried can never defeat one with a calm heart."
Yang Dae-un admired the advice, and Sogang, watching nearby, looked surprised.
'As expected, he's deadly serious in contests.'
The Heavenly Demon calmly imparting victory's method to Yang U-ryang's descendants was far from his usual carefree demeanor.
Above all, he sincerely taught the Yang clan how to catch fish—how to win.
"Moreover, you hold the advantage in inner energy and endurance, Dae-un. If you weather the initial assault... you'll win handily."
"Thank you!"
The Heavenly Demon's advice became flesh and blood for Yang Dae-un and the Ghost Sword Manor clan.
Not just empty words from a silver tongue, but from the one who alone reached the divine realm of martial arts—it felt like the counsel of a martial god.
'The Heavenly Demon says I can win, so I can win!'
In truth, Yang Dae-un hadn't shown it, but he'd been trembling greatly until moments ago.
After all, real combat before so many people was a thing of decades past.
Better to debut in the martial world like Yang Yeon-hwa; as Ghost Sword Manor's lord and elder, Yang Dae-un bore immense pressure and mental burden with much to lose.
Having barely recovered from regressed arts and a rusted body, he had no choice.
The Heavenly Demon perceived Yang Dae-un's psychology and lightened his mental load.
With such words from the First Heavenly Demon, the martial god himself, how could confidence not surge?
'I can do it. I can win.'
Thanks to that, Yang Dae-un, whose mind had shrunk back, regained much confidence.
"Father, ugh... My shoulder hurts so much, sob!"
Jeon Seong-jin, raised as a spoiled young master by his overprotective father, whimpered and shed tears.
One might expect shame from that sight, but villains know no such thing as shame.
"Aigoo, my baby! Does it hurt a lot?"
Jeon Il-gwang fawned before turning back with a face twisted in rage.
"Those damn Yang father and daughter dared to hurt my son!"
Jeon Il-gwang looked ready to charge and fistfight Yang Dae-un right then.
"The second sect battle spar is between sect lords!"
Just then, his turn arrived, and Jeon Il-gwang saw nothing else.
'Just you wait. For injuring my son's shoulder... I'll blow off at least one of your limbs.'
He ground his teeth.
A sect battle was like war in sparring form.
In war, killing or severely wounding foes was commonplace.
Moreover, no prohibitions on killing or injury bans had been set in the sect battle rules, so Jeon Il-gwang planned to feign accident and leave Yang Dae-un at minimum severely wounded, maximum dead.
"Spar preparation!"
At the call, Jeon Il-gwang stepped forward with murderous eyes, resolve firm.
Unlike Jeon Il-gwang rampaging like a boar crudely struck by an arrow, Yang Dae-un remained calm.
Could Yang Dae-un truly not tremble?
He simply,
'One whose mind is hurried can never defeat one with a calm heart!'
Recited the Heavenly Demon's advice like a mantra in his head.
Seeing calm Yang Dae-un, Jeon Il-gwang mistook it for cowering fear.
"Spar begin!"
Was that why?
Jeon Il-gwang resolved to unleash a fierce assault at the start.
He believed he'd take a different path from his son, who had crumbled pathetically after posturing.
"Haaap!"
With a thunderous shout,
He unleashed the initial form of the Heavenly World Sword Art, the Fine Sword Sect's pride that enabled its founding—a quite excellent technique.
Fine Sword Sect sword arts specialized mainly in thrusts, aimed at striking vital acupoints.
Swaaaaek!
But the weight and inner energy in Jeon Il-gwang's sword now were extraordinary.
Not merely to touch acupoints, but to inflict fatal wounds.
'I'll show you what for!'
Forgetting victory or defeat this instant, blinded by vengeance for his son, Jeon Il-gwang attacked with all his might.
He expected the Shadowless Sword Yang Dae-un he knew wouldn't last long and would crumble soon—but that prediction missed spectacularly.
"Hup!"
Chaeeng!
Incredibly, Yang Dae-un blocked Jeon Il-gwang's attacks and forms with ease, holding his own.
The Fine Sword Sect's Heavenly World Sword Art had merits of precision and piercing gaps, yet Yang Dae-un didn't yield in sword clashes, maintaining composure.
"Th-This!"
Already growling for his son's revenge, Jeon Il-gwang's fury boiled over; he pressed fiercely, linking forms until the space around filled with remnants of the Heavenly World Sword Art.
This time, he believed Yang Dae-un couldn't endure—but that belief didn't last.
Chaejaejaeng!
Like a turtle hunkered down, Yang Dae-un stuck to solid defense, tenaciously weathering Jeon Il-gwang's assaults.
"Heok... How is this incompetent fool..."
No matter how he hammered, no opening appeared; Jeon Il-gwang grew ever more exhausted.
When he came to, he was drenched head to toe in sweat, stamina plummeting.
With stamina drain came mental chaos.
Right then!
'Now!'
The late-blooming swordsman Yang Dae-un, who had tenaciously recited the Heavenly Demon's advice like a mantra to endure, began his counterattack.