Chapter 88
Chapter 88
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Eleventh Round - Bet and Competition (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*Dong! Dong! Dong!*
With the sound of the drums, the judge's voice rang out.
The judge for today's match was Azure Dragon Unit Leader Gi Tae-un.
"Begin the match!"
His voice carried a deliberate sternness.
It was a declaration that he would allow no nonsense whatsoever.
Jegal San chuckled softly at the sight and rose to his feet.
"...I'll be off, then."
"Jegal brother! Give it your all! I'll cheer you on with everything I've got!"
Mok Ri-won shouted excitedly, but it didn't provide much encouragement.
That was only natural.
The glare from Dang Hwa-seo beside him was far too sharp.
'If I lose, that'll be my last day.'
Jegal San realized that eyes alone could truly intimidate someone.
Dang Hwa-seo's wide-open stare was that fierce.
All that escaped his lips was a sigh.
'I'm not Mok little brother, so how...'
He was up against ten opponents.
Of course, he could fight if he had to, but he generally disliked stepping forward, and the mounting pressure of all those gazes only added to his discomfort.
'Hmm...'
Jegal San scratched the back of his head and eyed the ten True Origin Unit warriors.
'...One first-rate, nine second-rates.'
A throwaway hand.
Should he feel camaraderie in their shared plight?
Or relief that the match might be easier than expected?
As such thoughts ran through his mind—
"Both sides, to your positions!"
Gi Tae-un called out.
*Snap!*
The True Origin Unit warriors moved in perfect unison to take their places.
It was the Alliance's Joint Victory Formation.
Jegal San's fox-like eyes narrowed further into slits.
His expression had calmed, his mind settling.
'A formation, huh...'
No matter how you sliced it, he was the young head of the Jegal Clan. What was their intent in facing him with a formation?
If it was strategy, the warriors showed clear tension in their demeanor.
There was also a gravity to it.
Jegal San licked his lips.
'Even I'd be pissed if they underestimated me this much.'
*Clink.*
Jegal San drew a jade stone from his bosom.
"Begin!"
Gi Tae-un's shout.
At that instant, the warriors stepped forward in unison.
Sword wielders formed the front line, spear wielders behind them.
Five swords and five spears encircled Jegal San in a ring and charged.
Circular Encirclement Formation.
A formation so famous even low-ranking Alliance soldiers knew it—simple, yet reliably effective.
And to Jegal San, a formation whose weakness was all too obvious.
*Tok.*
Jegal San tossed the jade stone to the ground.
An anomaly occurred.
"Hup...!"
The sword wielders' paths wavered.
Their vision and perception distorted in an instant—a visual phenomenon—and as their movements twisted, the spear wielders' thrusts began to go astray.
The Circular Encirclement Formation was meant to strike the center without gaps.
Now distorted, it struck everywhere but the center.
*Boom!*
In the midst of tangled swords and spears, Jegal San stood in his original stance, stroking his chin.
"The formation was a bit much. I'm still a Jegal, you know."
Jegal San nudged a sword at his feet with his toe.
As he did, he released the internal energy from his dantian.
"And a dragon."
*Thud!*
He stamped his foot, and Jegal San's figure blurred.
The Jegal Clan's secret footwork, renowned as the pinnacle of subtlety.
A technique where every step transformed into a formation.
Heavenly Mechanism Bewildering Step.
"Wha—"
One warrior gaped in surprise mid-word, only for Jegal San to appear before him and uppercut his jaw with a palm strike.
*Pak!*
"...Guh!"
The warrior crumpled from the head-snapping impact.
The others had no time to react.
Jegal San left only faint afterimages as he felled the warriors one by one.
Exactly ten exchanges with footwork alone.
"Whew... a dragon indeed."
As someone muttered, Jegal San swept away the ten warriors in a single breath, one after another.
"Freak Dragon wins!"
"Wooooh!"
Gi Tae-un's judgment rang out, and Mok Ri-won let out a cheer.
Jegal San responded with a thumbs-up amid the roar, then glanced at Dang Hwa-seo.
'Phew...'
Relief welled up inside him.
Fortunately, Dang Hwa-seo nodded with a satisfied smile.
Jegal San had safely held the line today.
*
Gang Chan let out an impressed "Oh!"
"The son of the Formation King, eh? He's got some moves!"
"That won't be the end of it."
Gwon Pyo-wol smiled as he spoke.
Gang Chan tilted his head, and Gwon Pyo-wol continued with the same grin.
"Didn't I face him myself?"
The friendly match from before.
That day, Gwon Pyo-wol had taken on six Dragon-Phoenix Squad warriors, starting with Mok Ri-won.
Naturally, Mok Ri-won and Namgung Jincheon had been the most outstanding.
But if asked for the next best, Gwon Pyo-wol would unhesitatingly name Jegal San.
'I don't know why, but he doesn't want to show his full strength.'
A commendable attitude for a Jianghu man, but Jegal San's restraint went beyond that—too meticulous.
It wasn't just hiding an ace; it felt like concealing something that must never be discovered.
'Whatever his circumstances, it's worrying.'
Gwon Pyo-wol was a man who had lived through this Central Plains Jianghu since the bloodbath days.
He knew.
Those who hid their strength so thoroughly usually had a clear target for their blade.
"You're spouting secrets again! Tell me too!"
"Sorry. It'd be rude to say."
Gwon Pyo-wol brushed off Gang Chan's whining and pointed to the arena.
"Look, Fist Dragon's up. Focus."
"Aw..."
Gang Chan smacked his lips and looked up at the arena.
Fist Dragon Il-un was just ascending.
His opponents: five first-rates and five second-rates.
No Inner Cabinet mercenaries had appeared yet.
What was there to see?
Fist Dragon Il-un's overwhelming victory.
Achieved without a shred of internal energy—pure external arts.
"That's why they call it Shaolin."
The North Star of Mount Tai lived up to the name.
*
"Good work."
"You did well."
"Thank you."
Hye-un smiled faintly at the bowing Il-un, then rose from his seat.
"My turn, then?"
Hye-un's face was impassive.
It wasn't a pressing time for training breakthroughs with elixirs, and these one-against-many matches were mentally exhausting, which he disliked.
But he couldn't refuse.
'Just end it quick and sloppy.'
The mercenaries were slated for the latter half of the third group.
His opponents were second- to first-rate warriors at best, so from Hye-un's view, he just wanted to wrap this up and head out.
Seeing Dang Hwa-seo's ire, a clean win might even earn him permission for an overnight outing.
The thought brought a faint smile to Hye-un's lips.
And then.
'...Huh?'
Hye-un, ascending to the arena, locked eyes on one of the warriors.
A young second-rate warrior.
Around Mok Ri-won's age, perhaps.
But shorter by a head than the others, with delicate features that could pass for a girl's.
Fair skin and a fragile appearance.
Precisely Hye-un's type.
Hye-un licked his lips.
'This changes things...'
"To your positions!"
At Gi Tae-un's call, Hye-un headed to his spot.
In that moment, his eyes met the young warrior's.
Hye-un flashed a smile, and the warrior blushed, lowering his head.
'Cute.'
Plans changed.
No need to hold back now.
"Begin!"
The match started with Gi Tae-un's shout.
*Ching!*
Hye-un blocked a sword from a rushing warrior without even looking.
His gaze remained fixed on the youth.
Meanwhile, another warrior blocked his view and swung.
Hye-un frowned and deflected the blade.
*Ching!*
"Move aside. You're in the way."
Overpowering.
That was the word for it.
Hye-un swung his rarely used heavy sword, complaining all the while, and laid out the other warriors one by one, sparing only the youth.
"Ugh!"
"Keuk!"
"Eut!"
The warriors knelt, choking from the internal energy in his blade.
Once the nine were down—
"Oh my, just you left, young hero?"
Only the youth—True Origin Unit's youngest, So-o—and Hye-un remained on the arena.
So-o swallowed dryly.
Hye-un beamed.
"Pleased to meet you?"
Hye-un's figure vanished in an instant.
Startled, So-o flailed his sword with a "Yaaak!"
*Ching!*
It clashed with Hye-un's.
But what followed differed from before.
"Ahh...!"
Hye-un squeezed his eyes shut and staggered.
As if feigning frailty, his free hand covered his cheek.
Yes.
He was working his charm, in the vulgar sense.
"Your internal energy is so profound..."
Hye-un praised So-o.
So-o tilted his head.
Wouldn't he? The woman who had swept aside his seniors without a glance was now acting strangely—baffling, naturally.
But So-o was too young to grasp Hye-un's intent.
Hye-un pegged him at Mok Ri-won's age, but So-o was just 16, barely an adult.
Moreover, raised swinging a sword since childhood, he was utterly innocent regarding women.
So he thought:
'No way...!'
Had his seniors drained White Phoenix's strength!
Was she far weaker now than before!?
'Seniors!'
So-o gazed at his fallen seniors with resolve.
Their efforts couldn't be in vain.
"Haaap!"
Power surged into So-o's shout.
His charging steps brimmed with spirit.
His eyes blazed fiercely.
Hye-un grinned.
"Kyaa!"
*Ching!*
Hye-un's sword met So-o's with chilling precision.
The power matched exactly, leading to an even exchange.
Swords clashed and parted repeatedly; So-o's yells mixed with Hye-un's screams atop the arena.
Yet Hye-un didn't forget to exchange glances midway.
She bumped into him as if by accident amid fierce motions, brushed his nape "mistakenly" with her hand, let out soft moans, and continued the swordplay.
The effect was clear.
So-o's face gradually flushed, now beet red.
"Hah... Hah...!"
Bewildered, he hesitated, stepping back.
The audience below fell silent.
Meanwhile, Mok Ri-won whispered to Dang Hwa-seo.
"L-Little Sister..."
"Young Hero Mok. Close your eyes."
"H-Huh?"
"Close them."
Don't look at that.
With that intent, Dang Hwa-seo glared, startling Mok Ri-won into squeezing his eyes shut.
"I-Is this good?"
"Yes."
Dang Hwa-seo stared at Hye-un with bloodshot eyes.
Cawing like a crow, utterly delighted.
'Time for a talk.'
A very long one.
*Chaeng!*
Amid it all, the final clash.
So-o's sword fell agonizingly short of Hye-un, a hair's breadth away.
"Good match, young hero."
Hye-un extended a hand to support the fallen So-o.
So-o's body stiffened.
Suppressing a rising smirk, Hye-un whispered to the rising So-o.
"Young hero?"
"Y-Yes?!"
"Great match. If you're okay with it, I'd love to discuss martial arts later..."
So-o's pupils trembled like in an earthquake.
"...Would that be rude?"
At Hye-un's tender voice, So-o shook his head vigorously.
"N-No, not at all!"
"Oh, thank you!"
Her melting laugh rang in his ears.
With it came an inexplicable pounding in So-o's chest.
'Wh-What is this feeling...!'
True Origin Unit's youngest, 16-year-old So-o.
He had fallen into a trap he should never have.