Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Dragon-Phoenix Tournament (18)
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Dong. Dong. Dong.
The massive drum resounded.
A roar followed, as if the entire world was shaking.
“Waaaaah—!!!”
The finals of the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament.
The curtain had risen.
As it was the day of the final match, the pre-event performances differed entirely from those before.
There were bizarre feats performed by all sorts of eccentrics, followed by sparring matches among mid-tier masters renowned in the current martial world, and even a speech delivered directly from the platform by Sword King Namgung Hyeok himself.
Events so lavish that “extravagant” didn’t do them justice unfolded, yet they failed to quench the audience’s thirst.
Of course.
The people hadn’t gathered here today just to see such things.
Today was the day when the invincible legend of Sword Dragon Namgung Jincheon—once deemed unbreakable—might finally shatter.
The spectators were simply awaiting the start of a duel that could become a legend in the annals of the martial world.
Fortunately, the wait wasn’t too long.
[Then let the main duel commence! First, Sword Dragon Namgung Jincheon! Ascend the arena!]
“Waaaaah!!!”
A handsome man with piercing blue eyes drew his sword and stepped onto the arena.
As always, the overwhelming pressure he exuded felt especially heavy today.
[Next! Silent Sword Mok Ri-won! Ascend the arena!]
“Waaaaah!!!”
“Kyaaaaah!!!”
The man, whose mere gaze could steal one’s soul, climbed onto the arena.
If there were a demon that bewitched people, it would surely look just like him.
Gray training robes and a battered iron sword.
Yet, none of that could hide the bewitching smile lingering on his lips.
At last, the two men faced each other atop the arena.
The duel hadn’t even begun.
Yet the arena’s atmosphere was heating up to its hottest point today.
In the midst of it, Mok Ri-won spoke.
“I apologize for what happened before.”
“For what?”
“For calling you a Black Dao swordsman, Sword Dragon. My thinking was shortsighted.”
Mok Ri-won watched Namgung Jincheon’s reaction as he offered the apology, true to Dang Hwa-seo’s words.
The response that came was utterly characteristic of Namgung Jincheon—and thus, unsatisfying to Mok Ri-won.
“I don’t mind.”
Mok Ri-won gave a bitter smile.
‘So utterly parched.’
He wondered if the man truly lacked emotions.
The thought crossed his mind.
What followed was, once again, pity.
Pity for how heartlessly detached he seemed, despite his environment and fate.
As Mok Ri-won took a deep breath to soothe his aching heart, Namgung Jincheon spoke.
“Three exchanges.”
“Hm?”
“Endure three exchanges. As I said.”
Namgung Jincheon looked down at Mok Ri-won and added,
“I did say it wouldn’t be an easy win.”
“That’s right.”
“Prove it.”
Mok Ri-won’s eyes widened.
They soon curved gently into a smile.
“You’ll regret it. Won’t it hurt your pride if I end up utterly crushed?”
“Provocation means nothing to me. Didn’t Poison Phoenix teach you that?”
“You seem quite skilled at it yourself for someone who says so.”
The conversation dragged on longer than expected.
The audience stretched out their senses to eavesdrop, but to no avail.
The arena was blocked by a barrier of qi erected personally by Namgung Hyeok.
Only the announcer, standing with them on the arena, gulped repeatedly at the menacing exchange.
“We can start now.”
“Ah, understood!”
At Mok Ri-won’s words, the announcer stepped back.
He raised his hand high and shouted.
[Then, begin!]
Mok Ri-won and Namgung Jincheon assumed their stances.
Immediately after, the announcer’s hand fell slowly, and the duel began.
Chae-aeng—!
Namgung Jincheon struck first.
*
There were no flashy techniques.
It was a brutally straightforward vertical slash—so honest it bordered on crude, in the truest sense.
Kigigik—.
Yet it carried immense weight.
That was Namgung Jincheon’s sword, the sword of the sole family in the Central Plains that dared claim the heavens.
Boundless Azure Sky Sword Art.
A sword that traversed the endless blue sky.
A sword that reached the sky’s end, where nothing more lay beyond.
Arrogant to the core, yet one that demanded acknowledgment.
Such was the heavy sword of the Namgung Clan.
“One exchange.”
Namgung Jincheon declared impassively.
Mok Ri-won summoned every ounce of strength to block the sword.
But if mere endurance sufficed against it, Namgung Jincheon would never have earned the title of Next Greatest Under Heaven.
“And two.”
Hwaaak—!
A wave of blue qi enveloped the arena.
Namgung Jincheon pressed down with pressure enveloping the entire space, as if intent on cleaving Mok Ri-won in two with his sword.
Deududuk—.
The arena floor cracked under the qi’s assault.
The air itself was crushed by the overwhelming azure hue.
Mok Ri-won felt his breath catch in his throat.
‘Merely….’
This from just releasing qi.
“Can you endure?”
Namgung Jincheon asked.
Mok Ri-won glared wide-eyed, answering with a burst of his own qi.
Saaah—.
A faint ink-black light arose.
It evoked the chill of a pitch-black night sky, yet it held undeniable beauty.
The released qi coalesced, swelling in size.
It stretched languidly against the firmament.
Hwaaak—!
The stark contrast in color and nature was so vivid it felt like watching day and night clash.
Namgung Jincheon’s blue qi was relentlessly oppressive.
In contrast, Mok Ri-won’s ink-black qi harbored a softness at odds with its gloomy shade.
Could swords differ so vastly?
Could qi differ so vastly?
The rippling clash of qi resembled a painting in some surreal way.
Of course, it was far from romantic for those involved.
“Keu-eup…!”
Mok Ri-won ground his teeth, straining to deflect Namgung Jincheon’s sword.
Yet it remained heavy.
A twofold gap in inner power.
No matter that martial prowess wasn’t solely determined by inner strength—even with such a glaring disparity in class, the gap was inevitable.
“Still on two.”
Namgung Jincheon pressed the attack relentlessly.
He wasn’t one to rush normally, but today was different.
Why not?
Mok Ri-won’s very existence, his bold declaration and spirit, had stimulated him profoundly.
Thus, Namgung Jincheon hoped.
He hoped Mok Ri-won wasn’t just a loudmouth braggart, that he possessed the skill to back his words, that he could truly challenge him.
Deudududuk—!
Chunks of the arena floor floated into the air.
Namgung Jincheon’s pressure intensified accordingly.
“Still…!”
Mok Ri-won’s eyes gleamed.
“I haven’t shown anything yet!”
Kigigik—!
Mok Ri-won relaxed his wrist.
Namgung Jincheon’s sword plunged downward swiftly.
Faster still, Mok Ri-won spun out of the sword’s path.
He had harnessed the opponent’s force as fuel, accelerating with supple subtlety.
“Not bad….”
Namgung Jincheon was pleased.
He then slashed horizontally.
Equally crude in motion, and devastating in result.
Kwaaang—!
Mok Ri-won escaped the blade’s path, only to be struck by the qi cloaking it.
His body floated briefly, but he managed a stable landing.
However, his form was already a wreck.
His shabby gray robes were torn in places, exposing bloodied flesh, and his sword hand trembled uncontrollably.
Even his eyes seemed unfocused.
Anyone could see he was on the verge of collapse.
Namgung Jincheon gazed at him with a touch of admiration, then averted his eyes and spoke.
“That makes three exchanges. Well done. Quite intriguing.”
Exactly three.
He reined in his qi without lingering, having crushed Mok Ri-won in that span.
He was still standing, but that was all.
Having taken a direct hit to his inner power, there was no need to continue.
Such was his judgment.
Namgung Jincheon turned to the announcer.
He parted his lips to declare the match over.
…But they merely twitched.
Ossak—.
A chilling aura hit first, before words could form.
*
Mok Ri-won had confidently predicted his victory before the duel began, but he knew one thing.
‘Insufficient.’
That he fell short of Namgung Jincheon in every way.
That was it.
Naturally so.
Compared to Namgung Jincheon, who had devoured rare elixirs like daily meals, Mok Ri-won’s limit had been the inner core of a human-faced spider.
And that was just the start. His inner power accumulation via profound arts had been rigorously suppressed.
The Star-Link Divine Art discouraged hasty surges in inner strength.
Nor was his experience enough to compensate.
Unlike Namgung Jincheon, who had grown through spars with countless masters summoned for the purpose, Mok Ri-won’s peak had been guided sessions with Mok Seon-o.
A matchup where defeat seemed obvious.
Yet amid it all, Mok Ri-won surpassed Namgung Jincheon in one area.
‘Martial talent.’
Overwhelming genius in martial arts.
The likes of which demanded the top spot in the Central Plains.
And instinct.
The Heavenly Slaughter Star was martial talent incarnate.
The Extreme Demon Physique was forged for slaughter.
The man formed by their union, Mok Ri-won, wielded the sword with technique more flawless than any in the world.
Thus, he gambled on it, risking a move that might seem reckless.
‘My lacking inner power is fine.’
Experience would bridge it.
‘Even my lacking experience is fine.’
He’d gain it during the duel.
‘…I.’
Haven’t shown anything yet.
Seueu—.
Mok Ri-won straightened his staggering body.
He stared at Namgung Jincheon.
For the first time since the tournament began, emotion crossed his face.
Surprise.
Now he finally looks human.
With that thought, Mok Ri-won smiled.
“Are you running away?”
“…”
“I told you. I haven’t shown anything yet.”
“Your resolve is commendable. But you have nothing more to show.”
“I do.”
“Even if you do, that body can’t deliver it.”
What couldn’t it deliver?
On what basis did he judge so?
“Are you scared?”
Namgung Jincheon’s brows furrowed.
“…You have a talent for irking people.”
“I thought provocation didn’t work on you, yet it seems quite effective.”
“If collapsing in agony is your wish.”
Hwaaak—!
Namgung Jincheon unleashed his qi once more.
Mok Ri-won felt his stabilized breathing crumble again.
Yet he could still smile.
‘Good.’
This pressure was needed.
This killing intent was needed.
Killing intent so sweet it tempted him to close his eyes and drown in it.
Tak—.
Mok Ri-won stepped forward.
He savored the pressure bearing on his shoulders.
Silently, he apologized to his master within.
‘Forgive me, Master.’
—Ri-won, suppress it, keep suppressing it. Erase all killing intent. Only then can you avoid harming others.
An apology for defying the heartfelt plea delivered with such sorrowful worry.
‘But Master.’
Even so.
‘I don’t want to lose.’
He wanted to win.
No, more than that—if he must lose, he wanted to fall to a sword of righteousness.
Not one reaching for ambition.
Of course, Mok Ri-won wasn’t blindly unleashing his nature on mere stubborn whim.
‘I gave it my all.’
He had wrecked his body to contain any rampaging killing intent that might harm Namgung Jincheon.
Even in desperation piled on desperation, he had held back from thrusting at his throat.
Nor would he release all restraints.
Mok Ri-won exhaled.
He faced the knot he had suppressed deep within all his life.
A knot that could ruin his existence, one he couldn’t shake off and had thus ignored.
It had restricted his thoughts, his martial arts, his emotions—just to keep it in check.
The Star of the Slaughter Ghost.
Mok Ri-won confronted it, reminding himself.
‘Just for today.’
Thus, he peeled back but a single layer of the true nature he had suppressed his entire life.