Sparring Tournament (1)
After soothing(?) and sending off the martial artists from the neighboring rooms, the brothers chatted about this and that until the night had fully passed. In the end, they greeted the next day without a wink of sleep—the day of the sparring tournament, where the warriors of Dongjeong Lake mingled with the younger disciples of the Nine Great Sects and Beggar Clan.
Stepping out of the inn, the morning air was already thick with excitement. Youngsters who had rushed through the night to participate stood in long lines at the Dongbeonhoe entrance, their eyes blazing fiercely. Yet amid the swarming crowds...
The moment the three Yi brothers appeared, the path cleared wide open. Yi Gajang had monopolized every topic from the first day of the martial conference yesterday. Receiving the pouring gazes, the trio strode forward. Whispers rippled around them.
"Those are them. The three brothers of Yi Gajang."
"Really? I couldn't recognize them at all yesterday."
"Yeah. They're not the old White Bone Heroes anymore."
"Who could've guessed the mad youngest was such a martial arts master?"
"Maybe those rumors about them taking over Hwang Sabang and Jang Gapae are true."
"No way Yi Gajang is back to its old glory..."
"Nah, impossible!"
"But what if? If they actually win this tournament..."
"Get real. Do you not know what the Nine Great Sects and Beggar Clan are?"
Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun puffed out their chests. This was worlds apart from the cold stares, pitying words, and greedy eyes they'd grown used to in the past. Though Yi Jinpyeong had turned everything upside down, in a place teeming with warriors, skill alone was the ultimate character and reputation. The brothers could clearly feel the gazes upon them had completely changed.
Handling registrations for the sparring tournament was none other than Unchaek Dojam Gwak Sung, of all people. He'd been stuck guarding the entrance throughout the event, but the rumors from yesterday's chaos inside must have reached him. Unlike the Dongbeonhoe members fuming at the Yi brothers, his expression toward them was oddly nuanced.
"Hm. Hm. This body knew early on that your martial arts were exceptional. No matter how much I said it, the other executives wouldn't listen..."
Gwak Sung handed over the registration form on the table. His attitude somehow seemed a touch more deferential. But when Yi Jingang wrote only his and Yi Jinun's names and set down the brush, his eyes widened like saucers.
"What? Just... just the two of you? Young Master Jinpyeong really isn't participating?"
Joy lit up the faces of the surrounding crowd. Yi Jinpyeong had already proven his prowess yesterday in spectacular fashion. Without him, their own chances of advancing just got better.
Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun glanced at Yi Jinpyeong.
"Little brother. What do you say?"
Yi Jinpyeong, arms crossed and looking utterly indifferent, spoke carelessly.
"I've changed my mind. I'll participate."
Joy bloomed on Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun's faces, while shadows fell over the warriors around them. For them, hope had flared briefly only to be snuffed out. Yi Jinpyeong's name joined the others in neat script.
"The matchups are randomized and will be announced soon. It's all happening so fast, no time to balance sects fairly, so even if you're unhappy with the bracket, you must accept it."
Leaving Gwak Sung's courteous explanation behind, they re-entered the Dongbeonhoe grounds.
"Little brother, what changed your mind in the meantime? It's good for us, but..."
"Brother, it might be bad for us. What if we end up matched against Jinpyeong?"
"What else? We'd get thrashed like always."
"Ah-ha!"
Yi Jinpyeong just gave a faint smile, saying nothing.
In truth, the sudden expansion of the sparring tournament had already achieved Yi Jinpyeong's minimal goal: disrupting Dongbeonhoe's schedule and sowing chaos. Rather than step up himself, he'd planned to give his brothers the experience. But now his thinking had shifted. No matter the opponent—especially if it was a Nine Great Sects disciple—he intended to crush them publicly. His boiling rage had cooled somewhat through talking with his brothers, but humiliating them in the official tournament? That was fine. It was the perfect chance to show that the Nine Great Sects and Beggar Clan could never surpass Yi Gajang.
"Oh, looks like the bracket's already up!"
Yi Jinun pointed to one wall. As crowds buzzed and gathered, the first matches began without a moment's rest.
And sure enough, the hundred major powers of Dongjeong Lake had sent the maximum three participants each, filling their quotas despite knowing they weren't championship material. Thanks to that, the Nine Great Sects and Beggar Clan disciples stuck matching against them wore expressions of annoyance and fury. They showed no mercy in their strikes, nor much courtesy to opponents. Yet every time they swung sword or saber, the crowd cheered wildly in admiration.
Especially when beautiful female disciples like flowers took the stage. Yeon Jin of Jongnam Sect ascended amid roars like a beast in heat, frowning deeply. Her opponent was the eldest son of the Greenshaw Band leader, ranked around twentieth among Dongjeong Lake powers—a confirmed bachelor pushing thirty, the age limit for entrants. He swept back his hair, covering one eye, exuding fatal charm.
"Heh. If I withstand your three forms, perhaps you and I could... Gah!!"
The man crumpled mid-sentence. The onlookers stared in confusion. No one had cared about the Greenshaw heir anyway; they'd been ogling Jongnam's beauty. No one saw when she'd moved to fell him.
The referee eyed her in bewilderment. The match hadn't even formally started. She smiled radiantly.
"No time, so I ended it quick. Move on to the next, please."
Without waiting, Yeon Jin descended. Cold as ice to the bachelor, she shot a playful glance and smile toward Yi Gajang—straight at the second brother, Yi Jinun. He fidgeted, face flushing.
The matches continued. Though announced as random and fair, no one bought it. Nine Great Sects disciples never faced each other in prelims, and barring a few grueling Dongjeong Lake clashes, most ended in blinks. The lake's young warriors weren't bad, but none lasted long against the sects, regardless of their faction's rank or fame.
Yi Jinpyeong paid little heed to the other fights. He simply observed the surroundings keenly. By the time prelims neared their end, the Nine Great Sects elders were nowhere in sight—arrogance assuming their disciples wouldn't fall, or perhaps hangovers from last night's event. He scanned for No Gae, but the old beggar was absent too.
How much time passed? At last, the Yi brothers' first turn came. Yi Jinun rose, body trembling slightly.
Yi Jinun's opponent was Baekun Sect's senior disciple—a sect ranked top twenty in Dongjeong Lake, boasting size and skill. To Yi Jinpyeong, just another unheard-of group. The young man already on stage, eyes closed regulating breath, showed no trace of amateurishness: body honed over years, posture ramrod straight, sword razor-sharp, lips pressed firm. A stark contrast to the rough Dongjeong Lake warriors.
Yi Jinun's anxiety swelled. Even as his name was called again, he didn't rush up, turning shaky eyes to his brothers.
"Jinpyeong. I can do this, right? Please."
Yi Jingang answered for Yi Jinpyeong.
"Jinun. Win or lose, just give it your all."
"Right?"
Yi Jinun's hopeful tone. Yi Jinpyeong snapped.
"Nonsense. Lose, and don't show your face again."
"Y-you'd kick me out?"
"One of us has to go—me or big brother."
Yi Jinun's shoulders slumped.
"Guess it'd have to be me then..."
The referee urged him.
"Coming or not? Get up here now, or it's a forfeit!"
"I-I'm coming!"
Startled, Yi Jinun moved. Wind lifted his form lightly; a casual leap landed him center stage. The crowd, expecting anxiety from his earlier show, gaped in confusion.
"Wh-what? How'd he move like that?"
"Like he flew up."
"Yesterday the youngest showed off, now the second has insane lightness skill too?"
Baekun's disciple, waiting on stage, and the referee, ready to call forfeit for time, were equally stunned. Who'd expect such elusive movement from a youth in tattered, stained robes?
Now it was Baekun's turn to tense. Yi Jinun, caught off-guard on stage, cupped hands politely.
"Yi Jinun of Yi Gajang."
"Mu Po of Baekun Sect."
No more words needed. Mu Po leveled his keen sword. Yi Jinun raised his—still sheathed.
Mu Po frowned.
"This is a match, but I won't go easy. Sure about keeping it sheathed?"
"Ah, well—"
Before Yi Jinun could reply, the referee barked impatiently.
"Everyone knows time's short. Enough talk—begin!"
Pat!
Mu Po moved first. Having witnessed Yi Jinun's unnatural lightness, he held no illusions of mercy. Charging fiercely, he thrust with full power.
But... his sword sliced empty air. Only a pop! echoed. It was the sound from his own head. He touched it—blood stained his fingers.
Yi Jinun, looking mortified, covered his mouth.
"Aigoo! You okay? Why didn't you dodge..."
Mu Po's eyes rolled back white. Thud. He collapsed.