Those Called Geniuses
After all the official events of the martial conference's first day had concluded, the Cheongseong faction warriors returned to their lodgings within the Dongbeonhoe compound, their faces flushed with anger.
"A tournament alongside those Dongjeong Lake rabble? Does that even make sense?!"
"Exactly. They call them the hundred powers of Dongjeong Lake, but the Dongbeonhoe is just a bunch of merchants! And the rest? Rootless minor sects, numerical mobs of ronin and mercenary bands... Anyone can see they're no better than unorthodox scum—nothing more, nothing less! And what about that Yi Gajang punk? A remnant of a family that went bankrupt decades ago, strutting around like he owns the place!"
"I wasn't happy about holding the Murim Conference in a place like this to begin with. How could Pung Yeon-jinin decide such a thing on his own?!"
"The arrogance of those Hwasan bastards knows no bounds. This is all to check us Cheongseong. They're trying to lower the tournament's prestige! Jemyeongseon Jangno, we must overturn this decision immediately!"
Jemyeongseon Jangno, who had been listening quietly to their rants as the leader of the Cheongseong group, spoke calmly.
"Why didn't you speak up like that earlier? You were all just smiling and chuckling along..."
The group flinched momentarily, their expectations unmet by his reaction. Glancing at Nam Sogyun standing rigidly in one corner, they raised their voices again.
"But Jangno-nim, there's something we must contest. Isn't this the first chance in decades for Cheongseong's name to rise above theirs?"
"I've analyzed the recent tournaments intensely. With Wudang's Chuyeon and Hwasan's Yeonhwi too old to compete, this is the perfect opportunity for our Sogyun's era to bloom!"
"Enough, all of you. Calm down."
Jemyeongseon Jangno waved his hand, silencing the room. With a small gesture, he beckoned Nam Sogyun.
Cheongseong's pride, the late-generation prodigy Nam Sogyun, hesitated before stepping to the center of the room where the elder stood.
"Sogyun, how's your condition? No issues for tomorrow's tournament, right?"
"Yes."
Nam Sogyun bowed deeply. Sturdy build. Handsome features. Innate talent and genius—Cheongseong's hope. Jemyeongseon Jangno's gaze held unshakable faith as he looked upon him.
"Good. If a mere variable like this shakes you, how could you be Cheongseong's future? With your skill, even extra matchups won't matter—victory is assured. I've analyzed all potential finalists thoroughly, so just follow the plan, and Cheongseong won't know defeat."
Jemyeongseon Jangno placed a large hand on Nam Sogyun's shoulder.
"Yes. Don't worry."
Nam Sogyun forced a smile, eyeing the hand on his shoulder.
The Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans were never equal. Not externally, nor internally.
In the flow dominated by the mightiest—Hwasan, Wudang, and Shaolin—the rest felt like mere side dishes. Especially Cheongseong, pushed to the back of the pack in recent discussions, had been grinding their teeth to reclaim pride and status. They saw this late-generation tournament as the turning point.
So how heavy was the burden on Nam Sogyun, who had delayed entry until turning exactly twenty for this event?
The attention and cheers usually felt like pride and honor, but now they crushed him like endless weight.
In this atmosphere, he couldn't possibly confess the truth. That he'd already clashed with that Yi Gajang punk once. That a single puff from his pipe had frozen his body rigid, unable to move.
Every time that Yi Gajang punk swung his pipe today, Nam Sogyun trembled, imagining it as his own fate.
And the Shaolin monk who'd blocked it for him? A nobody until now, yet so strong. Heaven beyond heaven wasn't just talk.
Ugh... urk... He barely suppressed the nausea churning in his gut. Better to take a quick hit and pass out.
Meanwhile, in the lodgings prepared for Hwasan.
Pung Yeon-jinin sat with utmost seriousness. No trace of the festive drunkenness from the banquet. Just his usual calm dignity.
Seated across was his disciple: fresh youth and stunning beauty, yet exuding elegance rivaling her master's aura—Byeok Seol-hwa.
Pung Yeon-jinin stroked his long beard and asked, "What did you think?"
"Impressive."
"To what degree?"
"Cheongseong's Nam Sogyun and Shaolin's Do Jin already crossed hands with him once."
"Ho... Already? Results?"
"Nam Sogyun couldn't react at all. Do Jin was decently skilled, but still no match."
"Hmm..."
"And his pipe. Not forged steel. Just a common paulownia wood one—cheap, even."
"I suspected as much. So his level is—"
"Yes. Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong's third stage, Hapcheon—mastery of Geum-gi."
Master and disciple's eyes met.
A century ago, Yi Gyeol had stunned the world as the greatest under heaven. None in later generations had properly mastered his art, Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong. Most couldn't surpass second stage Cheonryu, let alone third Hapcheon.
After the family head's lonely death and bankruptcy years ago, Yi Gajang had faded from memory.
"Can you handle him?"
"Master."
Byeok Seol-hwa smiled quietly.
"Didn't you say Hwasan's sword yields to no one?"
Pung Yeon-jinin smiled back.
Today's Hwasan was a cradle of talent. Prodigies from across the Central Plains flocked, drawn to its prestige; the chosen few absorbed its majestic mountains and essence. The sect poured accumulated knowledge, experience, elixirs, and resources to forge them into peak masters.
No need to fuss over one fluke genius like Cheongseong's. Hwasan overflowed with talents who could reshape any sect's history.
Yeonhwi from years ago proved it; so did Byeok Seol-hwa before him.
Yes. Even if Yi Gajang produced a decent heir after ages, how could they match Hwasan's confident late-generation stars?
Tomorrow's tournament would reaffirm Hwasan's dominance worldwide—and etch that even if that era's Yi Gyeol returned, modern Hwasan stood unmatched.
Pung Yeon-jinin grinned, stroking his beard repeatedly.
"I'm truly looking forward to tomorrow."
Unlike the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans, who received fine lodgings in the Dongbeonhoe grounds, most Dongjeong Lake powers got nothing.
Yi Gajang, near-last in invitation order, fared the same. The brothers wandered until late, securing a rundown inn, then huddled in a cramped room.
Narrow enough to terrify most—skin brushing in sleep. But to the Yi brothers, it felt normal. Accustomed to annexes where shoulders touched lying down.
The two elders aside, reincarnated Yi Gyeol joining in was unexpected, but...
"What a day!"
"Yeah. So hectic, I don't even know where my food went!"
Tension eased; Yi Jingang sighed in relief, Yi Jinun joked dryly. Hardly their words, having emptied more bowls than anyone.
Anyway, a monumental day. First major event together; met famed Nine Great warriors in person.
"Those late-generation guys seemed no joke. The Shaolin monk we met entering, and that Hwasan disciple at the end..."
"Thought you only had eyes for the ladies, Second Brother."
"Hey, when did I—?!"
"I felt their undisguised confidence and aura too. As expected of the Nine Greats."
"Brother! Don't gloss over it. The ladies approached first—no winks from me!"
Bickering, they kept glancing at Yi Jinpyeong. Hearts set on his win, but craving his take on the prodigies—and his victory odds.
Yi Jinpyeong nodded.
"Not bad."
"N-not bad?"
"Yes. Cheongseong's kid was a coward, but his lightness skill showed solid basics. Shaolin monk's internal energy was rock-solid—peerless for his age. The Hwasan girl at the end was... quite something. By worldly standards, all geniuses."
"Gasp. Geniuses!"
Yes. Geniuses. Rare talents at that.
Recalling Yi Gyeol's memories, a century ago, no kids that young bloomed so brilliantly.
Had Central Plains martial arts advanced greatly?
But...
Yi Jinpyeong grinned.
"Doesn't matter. Before Yi Gajang, all are equal."
Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun's faces lit up.
Yi Jinun beamed, shimmying.
"Right? You'll crush them? Yi Gajang wins! Beating Nine Great late-geniuses! Our name across the Central Plains...!"
"What nonsense? Victory isn't guaranteed."
"Huh? You just said before Yi Gajang, all equal—win's set—"
An uncharacteristically weak remark. But his next words left the brothers wide-eyed.
"True. But I've changed my mind."
"...?"
"It's a late-generation tournament, right? This body will soon be greatest under heaven—does 'late-generation' even fit?"
"Ah...?"
"Exactly. Doesn't suit. So tomorrow, you two brothers enter instead."
Their jaws dropped.
Yi Jinpyeong rose casually.
"Time flies. Rest well. I have somewhere to be."
Announcing unilaterally, he slipped out. The brothers stared blankly at the empty spot.