Each Their Own Main Stage (3)
Yeobhwa fixed his gaze on the opponent who had taken the far side of the sparring platform.
Iryeop of the Kongtong Sect.
The Taoist whom Cheonhwa, Yeonhwa, and Jeokhwa had met when their mission took them all the way to the western edge of Shaanxi Province.
The Kongtong Sect is a Taoist school, yet it has been deeply influenced by Buddhist teachings, and its martial arts themselves are said to be extremely close to pure killing methods.
Yeobhwa recalled the characteristics of Kongtong martial arts that Myeonghwa had relayed to him beforehand.
The Kongtong Sect possessed a training curriculum known as the Eight Gates, and only those who had passed at least the fourth gate were permitted to set foot in the jianghu.
Of course, none of the martial artists who had reached the main tournament would be easy opponents.
Still, this man would certainly not be an easy one.
Yeobhwa steadied his breathing and assumed his opening stance.
Iryeop, by contrast, merely rested his hand on the hilt without drawing the blade—
a posture prepared for the draw itself.
Only then did Yeobhwa realize that the very act of unsheathing the sword was the opening form of the man’s martial art.
There is not a single opening in his stance.
Because he had not even drawn his weapon, he looked deceptively lax at first glance—yet the reality was otherwise.
A stable center of gravity, a body held at just the right tension to react at any moment.
It was a foundation that could only be obtained through relentless polishing of the basics.
I heard that, much as the Zhongnan Sect sets aside a separate period for new disciples to solidify their foundations, the Kongtong Sect also forges its basics in the Flying Dragon Gate… but the caliber is clearly different.
The Flying Dragon Art of the Kongtong Sect’s Flying Dragon Gate was a foundational art of the same class as the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art.
What had allowed Yeobhwa and the other four of Zhongnan to advance so smoothly until now?
Was it not precisely because they had thoroughly refined their foundations in Cheonhwa’s wake?
It may not match the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art, but this is clearly a well-tempered base.
Which also meant that winning by simply overpowering the difference in foundations, as in previous matches, would be difficult.
He held knowledge of the opponent’s arts in his head, yet knowing something intellectually and experiencing it in the flesh were entirely different matters.
Yeobhwa never loosened the string of tension as he watched his opponent.
“Begin!”
The instant the referee’s signal fell, Iryeop’s sword came crashing in.
The arc drawn with the draw itself aimed precisely for a vital point.
What stopped that strike—which was as good as a surprise attack—was the reflexive defensive motion carved into Yeobhwa’s body through countless hours of training.
Clang!
A dull impact rang out as he blocked Iryeop’s blade.
Even with the dual protection of the inner-energy barrier of the Long Heaven Short Armor and the sword-proof flesh refined through the Heaven-and-Earth Free Hands, he could not completely nullify the shock.
That was how fierce the sword force packed into the sudden blow had been.
The sword speed that cuts straight through the gaps in a man’s breathing, unique to swift-sword arts, and the ferocious power riding upon it… so this is the Life-Seizing Art?!
The Life-Seizing Art of the Kongtong Sect’s Life-Seizing Gate.
A martial art based on the swift sword, swung with lethal and ferocious power that was said to leave an opponent no path of retreat.
Indeed, the sudden strike left Yeobhwa’s blocking arm throbbing.
Had his external-arts achievement been lacking, the arm would have been ruined.
It was a force worthy of a martial art whose very name meant the seizing of life.
Yet as if that were far from the end, Iryeop began unleashing successive swift-sword strikes.
The continuous chain of rapid blades rolled in like a raging flood, denying any time to respond.
Yeobhwa tried to escape the onslaught by unfolding the Nine Palaces Footwork, but Iryeop stuck to him at once and pressed the attack without pause.
The sight called to mind a predator that had sunk its teeth into its prey and refused to let go.
That art had to be the Soul-Chasing Art of the Kongtong Sect’s Soul-Chasing Gate.
Just as its name promised the snatching of a man’s soul, the endless waves of swift sword stole Yeobhwa’s composure unilaterally.
To think the same swift-sword foundation can differ this greatly…
Soul-Chasing Art and Life-Seizing Art.
Both were built upon the swift sword, yet clear differences existed between them.
The Soul-Chasing Art pressed an opponent with an unbroken succession of rapid blades, while the Life-Seizing Art drove in with ferocious, lethal speed that outpaced any response.
Flying Dragon Art, Soul-Chasing Art, Life-Seizing Art. Taken one by one they are not overwhelmingly strong, yet the three arts mesh together with exquisite precision.
Because both the Soul-Chasing and Life-Seizing Arts rested on the swift sword, they easily placed a heavy burden upon the body.
The Soul-Chasing Art consumed stamina and internal energy at a fierce rate by firing successive rapid strikes, and the powerful blades of the Life-Seizing Art were equally taxing.
Ordinarily, the moment an exchange lengthened even a little, the practitioner would collapse under the drain—yet Iryeop showed no such strain, precisely because of the foundation forged by the Flying Dragon Art.
I must not panic and move rashly. For now I must concentrate on defense and watch for an opening.
Why had he trained the Heaven-and-Earth Free Hands and achieved sword-proof flesh in the first place?
It was so that he could answer situations exactly like this by drawing upon his natural physique.
Yeobhwa raised his internal energy to maintain the Long Heaven Short Armor while shielding his vitals with both arms and legs, never taking his eyes off his opponent.
Even with protective arts and sword-proof flesh, the pain was real—yet if he could not endure pain of this degree, victory would remain forever out of reach.
Hold the center firm as the great earth, and press down heavy as the heavens.
Recalling the essential formula of the Heaven-and-Earth Free Hands, Yeobhwa endured, and endured again.
Iryeop, who had been driving the offense, could not help but grow impatient.
No matter how solid the foundation of the Flying Dragon Art might be, continuously unfolding the swift sword was still exhausting.
He pressed with the Soul-Chasing Art and stabbed at openings with the Life-Seizing Art, yet Yeobhwa only staggered for a moment and never collapsed.
Though it was clearly Iryeop who held the initiative, he could not shake the sensation that the one maintaining the assault was the one being pushed back.
Judging that he could not continue like this, Iryeop changed strategy.
He abruptly closed the distance, shot out his free hand, and seized Yeobhwa’s wrist.
In the same motion he whipped his leg like a lash and swept at Yeobhwa’s ankle.
Joint-locking techniques that seized an opponent and restricted movement, combined with close-quarters grappling.
One of the two great arts of the Kongtong Sect’s Drunken Immortal Gate: the Martial Drunken Immortal Art.
Yeobhwa yanked the seized hand the other way and avoided the low kick, yet Iryeop did not resist being pulled—instead he leapt even more forcefully into the motion.
The other great art of the Drunken Immortal Gate: the Scholarly Drunken Immortal Art.
The bizarre body technique that looked as though a drunkard were hurling his entire body about finally succeeded in breaking Yeobhwa’s balance.
Yeobhwa hastily corrected himself with the Nine Palaces Footwork, but the disruption created by the combination of Martial and Scholarly Drunken Immortal Arts was only beginning.
Still gripping Yeobhwa’s wrist, Iryeop staggered this way and that like a man completely intoxicated, while his body moved as wildly as a leaping monkey.
Yeobhwa had no choice but to pour every shred of concentration into not losing his balance amid those unpredictable motions.
The sight of the two men thrashing across the entire platform, fighting over equilibrium, looked almost like a dance.
In the midst of that dance they swung fists and blades, and those movements only made the dance more dazzling.
Yet both of them felt it.
The end of this dance was drawing near.
Their auras pulsed in unison.
The final strike of first-class martial artists.
The technique of Stored Jin that released every scrap of Jin they had accumulated in a single burst.
Fist and sword collided.
BOOM!
A tremendous shockwave shoved the air outward in concentric rings, and the floor of the sparring platform caved and shattered around the point of impact.
“Kh…!”
Yeobhwa groaned and dropped to one knee.
The blood trickling from the corner of his mouth made it plain that he had suffered internal injuries, and the hand that had achieved sword-proof flesh could not fully withstand the Stored-Jin sword strike; it was wounded.
Anyone looking on would have judged that he could no longer continue the match.
Yet the referee did not declare Yeobhwa’s defeat.
Iryeop, who had been staggering, toppled straight backward.
Having taken the full force of the Stored-Jin collision, he had lost consciousness.
Yeobhwa caught the hand that had released him and laid Iryeop down as gently as he could.
“That is enough. The victor is Yeobhwa of the Zhongnan Sect!”
Neither man was in any condition to continue fighting—but it was Yeobhwa who still retained his senses.
The referee declared victory for the man who had endured to the very end on sheer grit, and the crowd roared with respect and cheers for the two who had fought such a desperate, all-out bout.
Yeobhwa roughly steadied his breathing and looked toward where his companions waited.
Cheonhwa and the others were celebrating his victory with genuine joy.
Rejoicing in that fact, Yeobhwa blacked out.
The moment Yeobhwa collapsed, Cheonhwa scrambled up onto the platform.
Fortunately it seemed he had simply lost consciousness; there was no sign of anything more serious.
Someone still had to accompany him when he was carried to the Medical Hall, however, and Cheonhwa volunteered at once.
“I’ll go with him. The rest of you still have matches remaining, so please wait here.”
As the senior disciple, he could not leave an injured martial brother alone.
Cheonhwa accompanied the stretcher that bore Yeobhwa to the Medical Hall.
Dang Baek-seon, who had been on standby there, examined both Yeobhwa and Iryeop.
“They have both suffered internal injuries, but nothing too severe. After simple treatment they should recover without trouble by tomorrow.”
At Dang Baek-seon’s diagnosis, Cheonhwa let out a long breath of relief.
It would have been too tragic if a hard-won victory were wasted because of aftereffects that forced him out of the tournament.
Once the treatment was finished, Cheonhwa sat nearby and waited for Yeobhwa to wake.
Before long the larger man stirred and opened his eyes.
“Are you with us?”
“Cheonhwa… Junior Brother. Where…?”
“The Medical Hall of the Sichuan Dang Family.”
“I see. I thought the place felt familiar.”
Yeobhwa stared up at the ceiling in silence.
Whether it was the lingering haze of unconsciousness or whether he was simply replaying the final moment of victory, Cheonhwa could not tell—but from the look on his face, it did not seem to be anything dark.
At length Yeobhwa spoke, slowly.
“Cheonhwa… Junior Brother.”
“I’m listening.”
“Am I… doing well?”
The words that left Yeobhwa’s mouth were not the reflections of a man who had just won a match.
“Until we entered the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, this humble one was full of confidence. The newly learned Heaven-and-Earth Free Hands fitted my body perfectly, and through that process my physique itself had grown a great deal.”
Yeobhwa’s natural frame could easily flatten ordinary martial artists, and the record that had carried him into the main tournament without much difficulty proved it.
“But from the journey toward the Gathering onward, everything began to go wrong.”
On the boat bound for Sichuan he had been nothing but dead weight from seasickness.
After they entered Dang-ga-ta he had picked a fight with Paeng Gun-ak and caused Cheonhwa trouble.
Even after reaching the main tournament, at the banquet he had once again created a scene by overeating until he was sick.
“I kept causing accidents and only being a burden… it weighed on my mind constantly.”
So he had wanted to prove it.
That he was not merely a useless burden.
That he had not reached the main stage by luck alone, but was a man who had the right to stand in this place.
That was why Yeobhwa had clung so desperately to the match.
“Cheonhwa… Junior Brother. Is this humble one truly doing well?”
Even after victory, the certainty still eluded him, so he asked the senior disciple he admired from the depths of his heart.
“Yes. Senior Brother Yeobhwa is doing well.”
Cheonhwa answered without the slightest hesitation.
“After losing to Young Master Paeng Gun-ak on the first day, have you not trained every single day in the practice halls?”
“Is that not something you and all the other martial brothers were doing as well?”
“Just because everyone did it does not make Senior Brother Yeobhwa’s effort meaningless.”
The fruits of effort were rarely visible, and cases as conspicuous as Cheonhwa’s were uncommon.
But did that mean effort itself was worthless?
Had Yeobhwa not proven with his own body today that it was not?
Why had he been able to snatch victory by a single step in that desperate fight?
Precisely because of all the effort he had piled up until now.
“Therefore, Senior Brother Yeobhwa is indeed doing well.”
“……”
At that firm declaration Yeobhwa found himself unable to speak.
Rarely, moisture glimmered at the corners of his eyes.
Perhaps it was because he had finally heard the words he most wanted to hear from the one he admired.
Yeobhwa closed his eyes tightly and remained silent for a long while.
Cheonhwa, out of consideration, simply stayed beside him without a word.