I Didn't Say That.
Yi Jingang stepped down from the sparring platform. Even after a long time had passed, the aftermath lingered.
The subsequent matches continued one after another, but the crowd paid them little mind. They were either animatedly discussing the sword dance Yi Jingang had displayed with such fervor or gazing thoughtfully at the sky, replaying the scene in their minds.
All eyes were fixed on the spot where the three Yi brothers sat. Yi Jinpyeong, who had dominated consistently since yesterday; Yi Jinun, who had felled a Baekunmun disciple in a single flash of astonishing lightness skill; and the eldest, Yi Jingang—not only had he held his own against a Hwasan disciple without faltering, but he had also captivated everyone with that mesmerizing sword dance.
Now, the three brothers were unmistakably the stars of this Dongbeonhoe event.
Amid the throng, old beasts lurked with gleaming eyes—some predatory, others laced with curiosity.
The Yi brothers ignored the stares entirely, chattering and giggling among themselves.
Yi Jinun flapped his arms dramatically, exaggerating Yi Jingang's movements, while Yi Jingang flushed red and tried to stop him. Yi Jinpyeong watched with a twitching smirk at the corner of his mouth.
The brothers' roles seemed somewhat reversed, but one thing was clear: they looked unbreakable.
The sidelong glances at the trio finally eased as the preliminary-style matches wrapped up and the real contests among the survivors began.
"Ooh—! It's Shaolin versus Ami!"
"Baldy showdown!"
"Shh! Are you mad?"
"Oops... but I can't miss this!"
As clashes between the Nine Great Sects' later-generation disciples ignited, the matches reached a level far beyond the preliminaries.
When Shaolin's famed fist arts intertwined with Ami's swordsmanship, gasps of awe erupted everywhere.
While the crowd's attention locked onto the platform, one figure approached the Yi brothers quietly and alone: Byeok Seol-hwa, the Hwasan disciple who had just sparred with Yi Jingang.
She eyed Yi Jinpyeong, Yi Jinun, and Yi Jingang in turn.
Recognizing her, Yi Jingang's expression shifted abruptly. He hastily cupped his fists in salute.
"Young lady, I was greatly rude just now. I sincerely wish you the championship..."
Yi Jinun whispered softly.
"Brother, if you're wishing victory for Lady Byeok, what about Jinpyeong?"
Yi Jingang's face fell in realization as he backpedaled.
"Ah! Then perhaps runner-up...?"
Byeok Seol-hwa offered no reply. She simply stared piercingly at Yi Jingang.
Under her icy gaze, he fidgeted, eyes darting.
Byeok Seol-hwa spoke quietly.
"What do you call that sword art you just showed?"
Yi Jingang bowed politely.
"It's called Cheongcheon Ilro."
"Cheongcheon Ilro. Cheongcheon Ilro..."
She murmured it back, then said something unexpected.
"I came straight from forfeiting."
"Pardon? Forfeiting?"
"Yes. I can't accept the result."
"You can't accept your victory? What do you—"
Yi Jingang blinked in confusion.
Byeok Seol-hwa shot back sharply.
"I couldn't pierce your Cheongcheon Ilro at all. But you unilaterally conceded first, leaving me the winner by default. Does that make sense? Isn't that deceiving me?"
"Deceiving? Not at all. I could only perform that sword dance to the end because you simply watched."
"I had no choice but to watch since I couldn't break through."
"You showed me mercy—"
"Let me be clear: there was no mercy."
"Even if we fought again, I could never have beaten you. My sword would have stopped eventually, and you'd have won easily then."
Listening, Yi Jinpyeong chuckled softly.
Ridiculously, Yi Jingang was right.
His Cheongcheon Ilro harbored no intent to attack—it was a sword solely for its wielder's expression. Needing no true opponent, it was selfishly pure; harming none, it embodied love and compassion.
That Yi Gyeol, the world's greatest, had left it incomplete, only for Yi Jingang to perfect it as a sword of love and mercy—it was uncanny.
But what could be done? It was the one path he'd found.
Besides, Byeok Seol-hwa failing to breach it stemmed from the sparring format. In a life-or-death battle, the outcome would have been obvious.
Byeok Seol-hwa whipped toward the smirking Yi Jinpyeong. The sparks flew his way.
"What's so funny?"
He wiped the grin from his face.
"Wasn't laughing."
"You were. Just now. I saw it clearly."
"I have a naturally smiley face."
"Nonsense. And why the short speech? I'm your senior."
Yi Jinpyeong swallowed a retort rising to his throat.
This body was nearing fifty by lived years, over a hundred fifty from birth.
"...I don't bother with manners for the weak."
Somehow, Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun nodded vigorously.
"Ah, so that's why with us!"
"Seems like it."
"......"
Byeok Seol-hwa pressed her lips tight.
Whatever brought her here alone, Yi Jinpyeong knew one thing for sure: with her forfeiting the tournament, amid rumors of an incident, she wasn't involved.
"Hey, want some advice?"
"...?"
"Doesn't apply to you since you forfeited, but tell your close friends: don't get too heated in the matches."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing deep. Just watch yourselves."
Byeok Seol-hwa furrowed her brow at Yi Jinpyeong's cryptic words.
"You Nine Great Sects lot risk your lives for pointless things. Who's the top Ten Masters, later-gen rankings this and that... But that's not where to stake your lives. Fight to save people, uphold justice, build virtue. What's the point of scrapping in a kids' play-fight tournament for a name?"
"Hmph. Says the one in the tournament."
Yi Jinpyeong shrugged.
"This body and you lot are different. Anyway, take it as concern. Spread the word."
Ha. Byeok Seol-hwa scoffed.
"Transparent. Scared we'll steal your spotlight? You've been flailing to shine since yesterday—pitiful."
"Still don't get it. I need no proof. Think what you want."
Gruff as ever, Yi Jinpyeong.
Byeok Seol-hwa scowled and turned on her heel.
"No proof needed, huh... Hmph, tournament or not, we'll clash again soon. Any of you three."
Watching her go, Yi Jinun muttered uneasily.
"Why me too..."
A massive roar erupted. The Ami-Shaolin bald showdown had reached its conclusion.
Yi Jinpyeong eyed the Hwasan maiden vanishing into the crowd amid the din—her elegance burned away, pure competitive fire now.
Her matching Yi Jingang was sheer luck. Against a lesser foe, he might not have unveiled Cheongcheon Ilro so perfectly before all.
Only because her Hwasan sword matched its caliber.
Yi Jinpyeong turned to the platform. Another Nine Great Sects later-gen clash unfolded, flaunting skills.
...Definitely different.
Whether from No Gae's words or not, their arts diverged from his memories: flaws filled, errors fixed, strengths enhanced.
A century's passage, perhaps. Wise successors adding fresh insights.
But spotting fragments of his arts in their techniques fueled rage within him.
He gripped his pipe, igniting flames with Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong's fourth stage, fire qi. Inhaled deep, exhaled skyward.
The soaring smoke mimicked Yi Jingang's Cheongcheon Ilro. His fury subsided.
As Yi Jingang said, it was the past.
And with Yi Jinpyeong returned—how could their advances rival the origin?
Eyes narrowed, he watched intently.
Not just tracing his arts.
Can't let disaster unfold before me.
Harsh words to No Gae aside, he wouldn't tolerate Demonic Cult minions scheming here.
Especially not exploiting these under-twenty Nine Great Sects youths.
Thus, rooted to the venue, he observed their exploits.
More matches passed. Then Yi Gajang's name rang again.
"Yi Jinpyeong of Yi Gajang!!!"
A Shaolin monk already stood on the platform—the youngest-looking among participants, fresh-shaven head gleaming: Do Jin.
"Ooh—!"
"Yi Gajang versus Shaolin!"
The mood ignited.
Yi Jinpyeong extinguished his pipe and rose. Metal qi clung to it, gleaming ominously.
The monk shuddered lightly. Yi Jinpyeong smirked.
Right. He'd block schemes.
But he never said he wouldn't crush them himself.