The Heavenly Demon Makes His Appearance (8)
The instant the beggar failed his first charge, the tide of battle was decided. The pursuer was the Whip Master, and the one fleeing was the beggar.
“Now that kid from the Beggars’ Sect has only one choice left.”
“He needs to escape the whip’s effective range.”
“Exactly. Advancing any farther is impossible. He must retreat.”
If the gap in skill had been wider, he might have forced his way forward with some desperate measures. But right now the one dominating was the Whip Master. The beggar from the Open Sect lacked the strength to pierce the storm of lashes. Therefore he had to run. He needed to reset the flow and begin anew.
“That kid surely knows this. He simply can’t bear to surrender the distance he worked so hard to close.”
Greedy as expected of a beggar, the boy had tried to seize everything. Those who indulge their greed usually end up bursting and dying. If he had earned his keep through begging, he ought to know when to withdraw. Why reach out one more time and earn a beating instead?
“When a similar situation happened before, Baekju managed to break through WhipLover’s whip. Maybe he thinks he can do it again.”
“Then the only thing I can tell you is bad news.”
If he was clinging to the past and being stubborn, the only word I could offer was fool.
“Do you think Baekju can overcome this situation?”
“Unless that boy learns to let go or the Whip Master makes a mistake, this situation will not change.”
Yet WhipLover did not look like someone who would make a mistake.
The whip WhipLover wielded resembled the one I had used against Dekay last time. When I handle the whip I focus on speed and illusion. Kang had solved everything with pure technique and skill, while Jung had not even bothered paying attention. WhipLover, who claimed to have learned much by watching me, appeared to be following the path I pursued.
It was a foolish endeavor. Just as others follow martial arts instead of reason, this man was following me instead of reason. Because what I possessed stood so high, merely imitating me made it seem like progress, yet the foundation had not changed at all.
What, did he think he would attain enlightenment like that? How laughable. Did he believe I would praise him? There was no chance I would look kindly on an immature brat who understood nothing of the true principles behind the whip he wielded.
Imitation is fine. When one has not yet built proper foundations, chasing an ideal is the correct path. However, that imitation must serve as a stepping stone to a higher realm. One must not become buried in mimicry and stagnate. If, after erasing oneself and pursuing another, one simply becomes that other, what meaning remains? That was regression. It was abandoning oneself as a martial artist.
If WhipLover wins, he will face me next. It is true that I dislike fanaticism, but seeing this displeases me even more. A player bearing the grandiose title of Apis’s Last Whip Master, strutting triumphantly while displaying such crude whip techniques. The necessity of education is keenly felt.
While I was lost in these thoughts, the match ended. In the end the beggar failed to abandon his greed. Struggling at an awkward distance, he accomplished nothing and suffered defeat.
“That Baekju fellow looks quite heated.”
“He lost without doing anything. He must be angry at both himself and his opponent.”
“If he begins the next match in that state, the outcome is obvious without even watching.”
Anger hardens the mind. There are situations where gritting one’s teeth helps, but this was not one of them. What the beggar needed now was composure. Yet that boy who had already lost his calm did not appear likely to regain it.
My prediction proved accurate. The beggar, surrendering himself to rage, repeated his earlier mistake and successfully donated victory to his opponent. A beggar who would even donate his own glory. To think that even while living by begging he could not forget consideration for his foe. Truly impressive.
“FlameLord’s commentary is basically prophecy at this point.”
“Why?! What did I do wrong?!”
“As I said on Enri’s broadcast before, it is not prophecy. It is prediction. I am a martial artist, not a fortune teller.”
“Sorry!”
Since he apologized so quickly, I would forgive him this time.
I was about to rise from my seat now that the match had ended when Dekay grabbed me. What was it? Had I not already fulfilled my obligation?
“Did you dislike me assisting from the side?”
“Hm? It wasn’t bad.”
His observational eye and manner of speaking had both been decent. That was why I had remained seated in the commentary chair instead of standing up midway.
“Then please keep going! Everyone loves it when FlameLord commentates!”
Do not act so shamelessly. I had not said anything particularly interesting, so what exactly were these kids enjoying? There were many others available. Why were they so fixated on me? I could not understand it.
I gave Dekay a slight glare, but he merely pointed at the chat window and pleaded his case.
“Look! It’s real!”
It was exactly as he said. Strangely, the dissatisfaction did not seem particularly strong. Why was that? My manner of speech was no different from when I had spoken on Enri’s broadcast last time, so why were the reactions so different? Did the audience change drastically depending on the broadcast? I could not comprehend it at all.
“The next match was Harin’s, correct?”
“MeowMeow? Yes, that’s right.”
“Then I will watch until this match and leave.”
Since I had been the one to teach Harin, it was only proper that I be the one to comment on her.
“That’s more than enough!”
“But Harin’s—”
“Um… FlameLord.”
“What is it.”
“MeowMeow’s name may be well-known to those in the know, but during tournament commentary you should still refer to her by her in-game nickname.”
Is that so? I had not known. Then would I have to call her MeowMeow as well? What an irritating name. Did it not sound exactly like a cat’s cry? While I enjoy petting cats, I have no hobby of imitating them. Especially not in front of this many people.
“So who is Harin’s next opponent?”
“FlameLord?”
“If you dislike it, find another commentator.”
If they wanted my commentary, they would have to endure my tyranny as well.
Dekay let out a groan, then finally answered with a sigh.
“It’s Gwon-jon. He’s the name that always comes up when people ask who the strongest amateur is.”
Gwon-jon. I remembered. That had been the name of the man who first spoke to me. His skills had not seemed particularly impressive compared to such an arrogant name, but…
“Who is expected to hold the advantage between the two?”
“Gwon-jon, of course. His form may have declined lately, but he has proven himself many times over.”
“Is that so?”
In my view, I did not think Harin would lose. No matter how great this Gwon-jon might be, in the end he too was someone trapped within this world’s flawed common sense. There was no way Harin would lose to someone who did not even know how to follow reason.
I had not taught her much yet, but I had not raised her so weakly that she would lose to such a child. If Harin were to lose, it would mean my instruction had been insufficient. In that case I would have no choice but to deliver even harsher lessons. This time I had no intention of stopping even if she cried, so she would have to give it her all.
Harin took a deep breath in the middle of the battlefield. The map chosen for this match was a war-torn battlefield. Countless soldiers clashed weapons and shouted all around them. Harin and Gwon-jon waited at the center for the match to begin.
This map contained as many variables as the market and was an excellent place to flee. Consequently, when this map appeared, the weak usually ran while the strong gave chase—a scene that played out often.
Objectively, Harin, who was at a disadvantage in raw power, should have chosen to escape. The correct action would have been to run, search for variables, and attempt a desperate struggle. A direct confrontation was the area Gwon-jon was most confident in. There was no reason to willingly play into her opponent’s strength.
Yet Harin had not the slightest intention of running. She had been deeply moved by FlameLord’s Zen dialogue.
The Heavenly Demon was an existence that shattered the heavens! As long as she played the Heavenly Demon, she must not flee. Even if someone stronger stood before her, she had to shatter them.
“It’s been a while since I faced MeowMeow. Have your skills improved at all?”
“Of course! If you’re thinking of the old me, you’re going to get a harsh lesson, you know?”
The her before receiving FlameLord’s teachings and the her after were completely different people. She who could now create principles with her own hands was unlike the others who merely imitated martial artists.
Harin was currently undergoing the process of becoming a true martial artist.
Even though considerable time had passed, Harin could not forget the moment she had first unfolded a principle with her own hands. She could not forget the overwhelming emotion of the day she finally understood what the Wind Flow Fist she had practiced her entire life truly was.
So whenever she had spare time, she logged in and trained the martial arts exactly as FlameLord had instructed. She could not completely erase habits ingrained over years in less than a month, and she still received scoldings from FlameLord on a daily basis. Even so, Harin liked the present. She liked that she could unleash martial arts like the protagonists in wuxia novels.
And this moment was the perfect opportunity to show the world the martial arts she had learned. It was her turn to become the protagonist of a wuxia story.
“Even so, you’ve never even reached the pro league. Do you really think I’ll lose to a challenger like you?”
“Ha. You’re the one whose form has dropped lately, Gwon-jon. Everyone’s heard the news that you got relegated. Isn’t this the aging curve?”
“I’m not at that age. I’m still young.”
“Among people who claim they’re young, there are never any who actually are, are there?”
Game Start
The two collided.