Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Dragon-Phoenix Tournament (20)
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Even though so many people had gathered in the arena, the surroundings were utterly silent.
It was that shocking of a result.
No one present had anticipated such an overwhelming victory, so it was only natural.
Amid the hush even as the announcer's voice faded from the center of the arena.
Mok Ri-won caught his breath and sheathed his sword.
A smile played on his lips.
‘I won.’
In that moment, he had cleanly overcome the surging impulse.
He hadn't infused his sword swings with killing intent, merely read Namgung Jincheon's incoming killing intent without countering it, and hadn't thrust his blade home at the final instant.
It was a victory so perfect it sent shivers down his spine.
A victory over himself, and over Namgung Jincheon.
Mok Ri-won's gaze turned to the highest seat in the spectator stands.
There sat Namgung Hyeok, looking toward him with a bored expression, as if he had foreseen the outcome.
‘Just a swordsman, nothing more.’
Mok Ri-won felt he now understood the meaning of Namgung Hyeok's words more clearly.
In that instant.
“…I lost.”
Namgung Jincheon's voice reached him.
Only then did Mok Ri-won turn to look at him.
‘Ah.’
For a fleeting moment, he thought to apologize for the provocation, but the sight of Namgung Jincheon's dazed state stopped the words in his throat.
He looked so stunned.
Mok Ri-won hesitated, then abandoned his intended words and cupped his fists in salute.
“It was a fine match.”
He felt that offering an apology now would only mock him.
Namgung Jincheon's head lifted.
His eyes flickered with myriad emotions as he gazed at Mok Ri-won, then he spoke in a hollow tone.
“…A fine match.”
Namgung Jincheon looked down at his hands.
The lingering tremor in them resembled that of a coward.
Displeased by it, he clenched his fists tight.
“How did you do it?”
“…Do what?”
“How did you forge such a sword? How did you….”
Had he swung with certainty?
Namgung Jincheon mulled over the thought.
His expression crumpled further.
Mok Ri-won watched him quietly before answering.
“I just didn't want to lose.”
“Does that count as a method?”
“It does for me.”
Namgung Jincheon's gaze fixed on Mok Ri-won.
Mok Ri-won met his eyes squarely.
“Truth be told, it wasn't a fully satisfying victory. I won not through pure skill, but by adding provocation. It's a win that exploited my opponent's emotions, unworthy of a true hero.”
It was an undeniable fact.
Even if the execution had been masterful, the method itself was flawed.
“But still. I wanted to win that way. I wanted to prove it. That a sword swung for ambition breaks so easily.”
“Are you saying I was wrong?”
“You weren't wrong. But neither were you right.”
Only then did Mok Ri-won realize clearly why he had so desperately wanted to win.
“…Yes, that must have been the reason. Sword Dragon, you've achieved nothing yet. I hoped that what you become in the future might touch upon the ways of heroism. You're such a remarkable man—I wanted you to use that strength to protect others.”
Mok Ri-won was a man raised on such teachings.
A sword is so cold that the swordsman's heart must burn hot.
Only then does the sword swing toward the right place.
He hoped those teachings that stirred his heart would stir Namgung Jincheon's as well.
Namgung Jincheon blankly mulled over the words.
Yet the more he did, the more his face twisted in displeasure.
It was natural for Namgung Jincheon.
His first defeat in life.
On top of that, all the values he had built up until now crumpled like paper—he had no room for other thoughts.
‘Prove….’
Mok Ri-won had proven it.
And he had failed to.
Was he done for?
Had this been a match he was doomed to lose?
Countless questions arose.
Like the sword of Mok Ri-won he had just faced, they offered no easy answers.
“…Congratulations on the win.”
Namgung Jincheon said and left the arena.
He needed time.
Time to sort through the turmoil rising within him.
*
The awards ceremony for the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament was three days away.
Thus, Mok Ri-won's immediate task was simply to leave the arena and head to Dang Hwa-seo.
“Little Sister! I won!”
Mok Ri-won ran to Dang Hwa-seo with a grin.
Dang Hwa-seo froze at the sight of him approaching.
Seeing that dopey face finally made it real.
“…Yes, you really won.”
Mok Ri-won had won.
Against none other than Namgung Jincheon.
Just as always, by keeping his own word.
Suddenly, a poignant ache bloomed in her chest.
Proud somehow, and his innocent brightness so dazzling it felt like she herself had won.
“You did splendidly.”
“Young Hero Mok! I'm here too! Acknowledge me!”
“Leave him be. He doesn't even seem to see this side.”
Mok Ri-won belatedly turned to Jegal San and Hye-un, who grumbled.
“Ah! Thanks for the cheering! I spread my senses wide and heard everything!”
“I didn't cheer.”
“Ah…!”
Mok Ri-won looked at Hye-un with disappointment.
Hye-un felt a strange pang of guilt.
‘Wait, why should I feel sorry?’
On second thought, there was no reason to, so Hye-un snorted and turned away.
“Well, good work. Rest well. I'm off—I'm tired.”
“Farewell!”
Mok Ri-won waved to the departing Hye-un.
Dang Hwa-seo watched a moment, then slapped his hand.
“Let’s go eat. We can celebrate there too.”
“Ah! Sure!”
Jegal San watched the exchange and thought.
‘Terminal case.’
Dang Hwa-seo's jealousy was intense.
The kind where she'd flip out if Mok Ri-won got involved with any other woman—no other case was this severe.
Of course, he couldn't voice it.
Jegal San had no desire to relive days of poison-induced diarrhea.
*
Amid the massive uproar that turned Seo-hyeon upside down, Mok Ri-won and his group remained serene.
They simply ordered their usual fare at their tucked-away inn and chatted amiably.
“The Dragon-Phoenix Tournament naturally has a grand prize. Young Hero Mok, you didn't know until now?”
“I-I didn't…! So what's the prize?!”
“A Marrow Cleansing Pill from Shaolin.”
“Marrow Cleansing Pill! One of Shaolin's signature spirit medicines!”
“Indeed, the very one said to make your inner power surge joyfully after just one dose.”
“Ooh…!”
Mok Ri-won beamed with sparkling eyes.
Of course—the mismatched tactics he'd resorted to against Namgung Jincheon stemmed from his lack of inner power.
‘And enlightenment is right around the corner!’
Just a swordsman, nothing more.
That single phrase had sparked an ongoing realization that kept stimulating his mind.
A little more prodding, and he could ignite the fourth star of Star-Link.
With a way to bolster his power just in time, how could he not be thrilled?
“So I receive the Marrow Cleansing Pill at the awards three days from now?”
“That's right. Oh, but you must consume it right after, in front of a Shaolin representative. To prevent anyone smuggling it out.”
“Quite thorough.”
“Of course—it's one of Shaolin's secrets. Likely Il-un Monk will oversee it that day.”
Mok Ri-won nodded brightly, then voiced a sudden question.
“Ah, so what do the runner-up and semifinalists get?”
Mok Ri-won's gaze turned to Dang Hwa-seo.
He was curious about her prize.
Dang Hwa-seo chuckled and answered.
“Runner-up gets Millennium Cold Iron. Semifinalists get some useless manual from the Murim Alliance.”
Mok Ri-won's face went blank.
“Millennium Cold Iron…? A manual…?”
He couldn't comprehend.
A Marrow Cleansing Pill.
A spirit medicine of immense value, yes, but as first prize, it didn't seem outstanding compared to the others mentioned.
Millennium Cold Iron, no less.
How could the world's sturdiest steel hold less value than a pill?
And a manual?
Even if deemed useless, it was from the Alliance.
Bound to overflow with knowledge—how could it rank below a pill?
At Mok Ri-won's openly puzzled look, Dang Hwa-seo elaborated.
“It's the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament's peculiarity. Top contenders are all from prestigious sects, so they prioritize spirit medicines over iron or manuals. The latter can be bought with money; the pill cannot.”
“Ah…!”
“And doesn't Young Hero Mok need the pill more?”
“True, but… still, that Millennium Cold Iron is tempting.”
Mok Ri-won stroked his worn longsword.
Over ten years of use had bred affection, yet he doubted he could wield it forever.
Mok Ri-won was a martial artist, after all.
His desire for a fine sword brimmed over.
Dang Hwa-seo giggled at his wistful smile.
“If you need a sword, just say so. I can buy you one.”
“R-Really?!”
“Would I jest?”
A warm atmosphere bloomed between them.
Jegal San, feeling sidelined, silently nursed his cup and swallowed his thoughts.
‘Buying him off with money now….’
Jegal San feared Dang Hwa-seo.
*
The meal ended on a pleasant note.
Jegal San, who had been shooting meaningful glances at Dang Hwa-seo throughout, had left early due to diarrhea from her secretly slipped poison.
Dang Hwa-seo stopped before her quarters, facing the gentle night breeze.
“Then rest well. You worked hard today.”
Late night now.
The next three days would be tough.
Would the martial artists leave the new Dragon-Phoenix champion, Mok Ri-won, alone?
Dang Hwa-seo said it thinking he needed rest to brace for the blows from all sides, but Mok Ri-won didn't leave.
He just grinned.
“Young Hero Mok, not going?”
“Something to do first.”
“To do? What….”
Dang Hwa-seo jolted.
Mok Ri-won had stepped closer.
Late night.
In front of the quarters.
And something to do.
No way—did that dopey Mok Ri-won mean ‘that’?
Dang Hwa-seo's head spun at the thought.
In a sense, yes.
He seemed innocent, but what kind of man was Mok Ri-won?
The sort who blushed and thrilled at tales of lustful demons or seductresses.
‘Too soon…!’
They hadn't even properly formalized their bond—night affairs were premature.
The moment that thought surfaced.
“Did you forget the promise?”
Dang Hwa-seo then recalled what she'd overlooked.
“Ah….”
First came the ‘oh no,’ then shame welled up.
She had proposed it first and forgotten, then wrongly painted him lecherous while indulging her own lewd imaginings.
“Hm? Little Sister?”
“…No, wait. Just a moment.”
Dang Hwa-seo covered her face with both hands.
The heat seeping through her palms was intense.
“…Wait just a bit.”
Her body trembled.
She couldn't quell the self-loathing.
It took quite some time to dispel it.
Her mind cooled bit by bit.
The heat faded into the night air.
Only then did Dang Hwa-seo speak.
“Ugh… sorry.”
“What for?”
“…It's nothing.”
Her head must be messed up.
To think of something lewd first despite such an important matter.
“Little Sister.”
Dang Hwa-seo looked up.
There stood Mok Ri-won, still beaming.
No—there was a hint of distress.
“Ahem… if you don't want to say, that's fine. I might be pushing too hard.”
Dang Hwa-seo's stomach churned.
Again.
He was weakening her with such tender consideration.
“…Why say that? I asked first.”
“Hearts change unpredictably….”
“No.”
Dang Hwa-seo shook her head.
Then clenched her fists and spoke.
“…No. I might be the one imposing rudely on Young Hero Mok.”
No, this was definitely an imposition.
Why not? Binding someone's life to one's whim.
Truth be told, voicing it now spiked her anxiety.
Her newfound affection had a delicacy unfit to her nature; she worried Mok Ri-won might be disappointed.
Sensing it, perhaps.
Mok Ri-won spoke softly.
“Little Sister, whatever you ask of me is no imposition. So long as it doesn't violate heroism.”
“…Pardon?”
“You've done so much for me.”
Mok Ri-won spoke from the heart.
“You taught this ignorant wanderer of the martial world its ways. You showed heroic spirit, protecting others even in dire straits. And that's not all? The meals, the lodgings, the aid even here at the tournament—I'll never repay you in a lifetime.”
“…”
“So you have every right to ask anything of me.”
Mok Ri-won reached out.
His hand gently overlaid hers.
“So tell me without burden. For my sake, who wants to repay you.”
Dang Hwa-seo's expression wavered.
Her eyes began to quiver strangely.
The man approaching with moonlight at his back was too endearing, his words too kind—her heart creaked.
Truly strange.
Her worries melted like snow at his few words.
Anxious and happy at each one.
Dang Hwa-seo bit her lip.
Then slowly nodded.
At last, her hesitant lips parted.