Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Eleventh Bout - Wager and Rivalry (6)
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Pathetic.
Everyone watching Gyeon Dong from their seats thought the same.
Strictly speaking, it was just a spar.
Even with spirit medicine on the line, it wasn't a match worth squeezing out tears and snot like that.
Yet Gyeon Dong's figure, rising ceaselessly again and again as if he absolutely had to win this bout, allowed for no impression other than 'pathetic'.
“Gaaah…!”
Gyeon Dong charged once more.
Mok Ri-won swung his sword wide, toppling Gyeon Dong.
Then he faced U Rim.
It was a sword like chasing away flies.
Of course, Mok Ri-won hadn't swung it with such intent, but that's how it appeared to the onlookers.
It was the result of an overwhelming gap in skill.
Gyeon Dong lay on the ground, panting heavily, yet he glared at Mok Ri-won and U Rim.
Then he pressed against the earth once more to rise unsteadily.
Now even Mok Ri-won began to take note of that tenacity.
‘How can he go that far?’
Mok Ri-won didn't know Gyeon Dong.
He knew nothing beyond that he was the True Origin Unit Leader—what kind of personality he had, what circumstances he carried, or what mindset he brought into this match.
…He didn't even know why this spar had come about.
Thus, Mok Ri-won could see Gyeon Dong the man himself.
The Gyeon Dong that Mok Ri-won viewed without any preconceptions was.
‘A martial artist.’
A fine martial artist.
A faint smile rose to Mok Ri-won's lips.
‘Unyielding will carries great weight.’
One of his master's teachings.
No matter how immense one's internal energy or peerless one's martial arts, without will, it was an empty shell.
The essence of a martial artist stems from firm will.
‘As expected of a unit leader!’
It was a misunderstanding.
Gyeon Dong was a coward, someone who couldn't take matches seriously.
The reason he kept rising was mere indignation, a desperate flail.
Of course, that hardly mattered now.
Chaeng—!
Mok Ri-won took a liking to Gyeon Dong.
He liked that unbreaking will to rise.
Whether he was a first-rate martial artist or a third-rate hack barely scraping second-rate comprehension in martial arts—it was irrelevant.
Mok Ri-won wanted to clash with Gyeon Dong.
“…I think that's enough with you.”
At those words, U Rim's eyes widened as if they might tear.
He didn't need much effort to grasp the meaning.
Mok Ri-won's gaze was fixed solely on Gyeon Dong to that extent.
This was an insult.
For a peer martial artist to show interest in an inferior opponent while dismissing him with 'with you' was a clear belittlement of his own worth.
U Rim gripped his sword so hard it ground audibly and charged at Mok Ri-won.
“How dare you—!”
In that instant, Mok Ri-won's eyes darkened.
“Pressing an ally who's already exhausted for the sake of victory ill befits the righteous path.”
With those words, Mok Ri-won swung his sword.
There was no formal technique.
His sword simply extended slowly, coiling around U Rim's blade before snapping it in two with a 'tang!'.
And then.
Paak—!
Mok Ri-won's foot planted into U Rim's solar plexus.
“Guhk…!”
It was a kick infused with internal energy.
An injury requiring rest and recovery.
Mok Ri-won had already absorbed all of U Rim's sword.
“Then….”
Confirming U Rim collapsed, Mok Ri-won turned to Gyeon Dong.
He clutched his sword with bloodshot eyes, heaving breaths.
The sword tip trembled faintly.
“Only the Unit Leader remains.”
Mok Ri-won's smile was refreshing.
Moreover, not a single trace of injury marred his body.
It stood in stark contrast to Gyeon Dong's utter disarray.
Mok Ri-won asked.
“Why do you keep rising, Unit Leader?”
“Huh….”
“You've shown ample will. You've shown the heroic spirit that refuses to yield in defeat. Then why rise again?”
“Ku….”
Gyeon Dong barely raised his staggering body, listening to Mok Ri-won's words.
But it didn't go well.
His ears rang piercingly, scattering the sounds.
All Gyeon Dong caught was the question of 'why'.
‘Why….’
He was asking for the reason.
And Gyeon Dong didn't ponder long.
“O-One….”
“Hm?”
“One hit… huh… just trying to land one hit….”
Tak!
Gyeon Dong stepped forward.
“Otherwise… it'd be too unjust…!”
Mok Ri-won's eyes widened slightly.
Then they curved gently.
“Is that so?”
Mok Ri-won's expression brimmed with delight.
“Then give it a try.”
Mok Ri-won placed his left arm behind his waist.
His feet planted firmly on the ground, his body stretched straight as a rod.
“I won't move from here. No footwork. No swaying my body.”
His sword tip pointed precisely at Gyeon Dong.
“Come at me, Unit Leader. Just close the distance.”
At a glance, it could seem like mockery.
Had respect been absent from Mok Ri-won's voice, or his smile even slightly twisted.
It surely would have been ridicule.
Conversely, even with such words and actions, he showed unmistakable respect toward Gyeon Dong.
Grind—
Gyeon Dong ground his teeth.
And stepped forward once more.
About fifteen paces.
He had been flung quite far just before, making the running distance long.
In other words, ample room for a running start.
Gyeon Dong wrung out every last ounce of strength into his steps.
His limping gait straightened.
It turned once more into a sprint.
Pitiful.
And pathetic indeed.
“Uwaaaaa—!”
Tak!
Gyeon Dong leaped.
Without even proper form, airborne Gyeon Dong glared at Mok Ri-won as he began slashing down with his sword.
As he said, a sword laced with indignation, injustice, rage shot forth.
And was deflected.
“Fine strike.”
Chaeng—!
The sword slipped from his hand, floating in the air, followed by Mok Ri-won slapping Gyeon Dong's left waist with the flat of his blade.
Thud!
With a dull thud, Gyeon Dong's eyes rolled back.
He had fainted.
“Mokryong wins!”
*
Waaaaah—!
Cheers that seemed to shake the arena.
The sound yanked Gyeon Dong's consciousness back from the depths of unconsciousness.
Gyeon Dong blinked his bleary eyes.
He saw referee Gi Tae-un raising a hand toward the Dragon-Phoenix Squad side, and Mok Ri-won approaching him.
His head had cleared somewhat.
Only then did Gyeon Dong let out a sigh.
‘I lost….’
It was all over now.
In the end, unable to land even a single blow on that damnable talent.
Like a third-rate thug ignorantly shouting at the heavens, he'd dug his own grave and crumbled.
Gyeon Dong stared blankly at the sky.
Ironically, a clear blue sky without a single cloud.
His mind was so wretched he could think, ‘In the end, even the heavens celebrate not my victory, but Mokryong's!’
It was then that the approaching Mok Ri-won spoke.
“Fine spar. I learned from it.”
Gyeon Dong looked up at him from the ground.
A hollow laugh rose to his lips.
Was he mocking him now? After beating him so soundly, to call it a 'fine spar'—annoyed, Gyeon Dong spoke.
“What was fine about it? I got crushed this pathetically.”
Nothing remained.
His only kin, his grandfather, would cast him out, leaving him destitute on the streets.
No one would even remember him.
Maybe once, as ‘that guy from back then’ in some nostalgic reminiscence.
As Gyeon Dong chuckled in emptiness, Mok Ri-won tilted his head and said.
“Not pathetic.”
“What?”
“Splendid.”
Gyeon Dong's face twisted oddly.
Mok Ri-won grinned at the expression and replied.
“You never gave up till the end.”
Mok Ri-won extended a hand, pulling Gyeon Dong's upper body up.
“I merely surpassed you in martial knowledge. In will alone, I yield to you. You showed fine essence as Unit Leader.”
Gyeon Dong was dumbfounded.
Mok Ri-won's words were too sudden to comprehend at once.
As he tried to ask more, applause began rising from all around.
No cheers.
Just the sound of clapping.
And satisfied smiles.
Gyeon Dong understood their reactions only after Gi Tae-un's words as he approached.
“You've got grit.”
Saying so, Gi Tae-un patted Gyeon Dong's shoulder and stepped down.
Turning his gaze, Gyeon Dong saw White Sword Unit Leader Gwon Pyo-wol and Red Cloud Unit Leader Gang Chan.
Gang Chan shouted.
“Hey, work on that skill! You're a unit leader—next time, land at least one hit!”
Laughter erupted here and there at his hearty bellow.
Gang Chan was then dragged away by Gwon Pyo-wol and vanished from the seats.
Gyeon Dong remained dazed till then.
The word ‘next time’ lingered in his mind.
‘Next time….’
Would there be a next time?
If Grandfather cast him out, that was the end.
As he thought that, Gyeon Dong jolted.
‘…If Grandfather casts me out, is that truly the end?’
Grandfather Gyeon Gyeol was the Inner Cabinet Leader.
Falling from his favor narrowed one's standing in the alliance.
But strictly speaking, that was all.
Appointing people to unit leader and division leader posts ultimately fell to the Alliance Leader.
Forcing existing ones to resign was also the Alliance Leader's call.
‘…There is a next time.’
Only then did Gyeon Dong realize.
‘I only sought Grandfather's approval….’
He'd run solely toward that until becoming this pathetic.
Believing nothing else existed if not that.
How foolish, how narrow-sighted.
Gyeon Dong raised his head, looking around.
Martial artists still smiled at him, squad members clapped.
And Mok Ri-won stood before him.
“Unit Leader?”
At Mok Ri-won's question, Gyeon Dong felt tears welling.
‘It wouldn't have been the end.’
Even without Grandfather's approval, the world wouldn't crumble—why had he fixated so?
Why had he seen nothing else?
‘No.’
In truth, even without Grandfather's approval, he could live.
He knew that.
He'd just turned away.
Feared standing alone.
Tears streamed from Gyeon Dong's eyes, startling Mok Ri-won into fluster.
The remaining martial artists watched with ‘why's that guy acting up?’ expressions.
Gyeon Dong wept.
‘Nothing has ended.’
The world doesn't end from falling out of Grandfather's favor.
No, there was a broader world visible only by escaping Grandfather's shadow.
So many who judged not by birth's lowliness or meager martial arts, but valued only that moment's will.
“U-Unit Leader…!”
“No, no.”
Gyeon Dong wiped tears and snot, his goatee quivering.
The smile rising on his tear-streaked face was refreshing.
Much like that cloudless sky.
“Mokryong, young hero.”
“Y-Yes?”
“Next time, next time—will you spar with me again?”
Mok Ri-won tilted his head at the words, then nodded nonchalantly.
“As much as you like. If that's what the Unit Leader wants.”
“Thank you.”
As they spoke, Dang Hwa-seo climbed onto the arena.
Her broken arm was splinted.
Gyeon Dong felt guilt at the sight.
Strictly speaking, even that injury came from mercenaries Inner Cabinet had brought.
Going further back, this entire spar stemmed from his own loose tongue.
“…Dragon-Phoenix Squad Leader.”
Dang Hwa-seo gazed down at Gyeon Dong mistily.
Gyeon Dong rising till the end differed from what she'd seen before.
From ‘all talk’ to ‘has some grit’—an upgrade in evaluation.
‘But.’
That was that, and this was this.
Dang Hwa-seo smiled faintly at Gyeon Dong.
“Send the spirit medicine by today.”
Flinch.
Gyeon Dong's body jerked.
Ignoring him, Dang Hwa-seo said to Mok Ri-won.
“Young Hero Mok, let's go.”
“Ah, got it! Take care, Unit Leader!”
Gyeon Dong blankly watched the departing pair.
Then he heard the surrounding murmurs.
“Hmm, still, the elites are elites. True Origin Unit Leader's power is really….”
“But watching him go all out is nice. Power is really… still.”
“Just say it straight. His power is pathetic.”
Gyeon Dong laughed hollowly.
‘That's right.’
These were people who judged him as they saw.
Who viewed him without prejudice from birth.
‘And I showed such an unsightly figure to those folks.’
He needed to reflect.
And strive harder.
Gyeon Dong rose from his seat.
Drip.
Tears fell from his eyes.
‘Let's live diligently from now on.’
The reason for the tears was nothing much.
‘…Can't even one person worry about me? I got hurt this bad.’
No one fretting over his utter mess.
That was the sorrow.
Yes.
He'd shown a cool figure, but Gyeon Dong was still Gyeon Dong.
In the Martial Alliance, 'dull sword Gyeon Dong' still meant the all-talk weakling.