The Heavenly Demon Takes the Stage
Ha-rin had succeeded in proving her choice. Of course, it hadn’t been without hardship. From the start, the gap in skill between Gwon-jon and Ha-rin hadn’t been that large. What created the difference was nothing more than the enlightenment Ha-rin possessed.
What had initially flustered Gwon-jon was the fact that Ha-rin had used her own martial arts instead of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. An unexpected dagger always brings greater results than what one originally possesses. However, from the moment that move was seen through and countered, he could no longer expect the same outcome.
Unlike the fool named Baekju from the previous match, Gwon-jon was a man who knew when composure was necessary. The instant he judged that defeat was looming in the first bout, he fell back into a defensive stance and quietly observed the fists Ha-rin unleashed. Watching him gradually grow accustomed to her punches, I could predict that even if she won now, the next match would not be easy.
My prediction was not wrong. The second match unfolded far more fiercely than the first. Once again, neither of them yielded an inch as they clashed. Fists met fists in a frenzied slugfest. At first they had distinguished between attack and defense, but as the fight progressed, both Ha-rin and Gwon-jon erased the word “defense” from their minds entirely.
For the two of them, victory was not something that could be obtained through reason. It was something that could only be seized by crushing the enemy before their eyes with their own hands. In the end, it was Ha-rin who claimed victory from that brutal exchange. The margin was not large. One punch. Or perhaps two. That was the extent of the difference between them.
If her luck had been even slightly worse, if she had made one more mistake, if Gwon-jon had been just a little more outstanding, Ha-rin would have had to concede the match. But there were no “what ifs.” The one who returns bearing the word “victory” has the right to make a definitive judgment.
This time, Ha-rin had been stronger than Gwon-jon. Any words beyond that were meaningless.
After the match, when Ha-rin returned to the waiting area and spotted me in the commentary box, she came running like a child. Knowing exactly what she intended, I rose from my seat and prepared to catch her.
Ha-rin did not deviate from my expectations in the slightest. Beaming brightly, she hurled her entire body toward me. She held not the slightest doubt that I would catch her.
Was “well done” not enough? My vocabulary isn’t particularly outstanding, but that doesn’t mean I want to fall into the same madness as those people rampaging in the chat window right now.
Still, if I left her be, Ha-rin’s cheeks looked like they might puff up, so I had no choice but to squeeze out a few more words. They were clichés like how her fists were excellent or her judgment was superb, but Ha-rin listened with a bright smile on her face.
Gwon-jon, who had trudged after Ha-rin, glared at us with clear displeasure.
The way they bickered was rather pleasant to watch. Judging by how freely they spoke, it seemed they had known each other for quite some time.
At my answer, Gwon-jon rubbed the back of his neck and spoke as if lamenting.
Haha. How could this be my fault? It was Ha-rin who showed the results. Even if he complained to me, I would have no answer to give.
After handing the commentary seat over to Gwon-jon, I returned to the spectator seats and watched the participants fight. The level of those who had entered was generally similar to that of the one called Baekju. So these were the ones called the strongest among ordinary people? No wonder Gwon-jon could reign as the strongest while surrounded by such opponents. Compared to these fools, Gwon-jon’s level was on the high side.
Among the participants, only two were worth watching. The one called Maengju, who had come to me before his match and declared that he would defeat me. And the swordsman named Yi Sun, whom Karispo had mentioned before. These two at least did not make sighs escape my lips.
The unfortunate thing was that the two of them had met in the tournament. They were both capable of advancing much further, but having encountered each other, one had to fall.
Maengju was truly a man overflowing with confidence. Just as he had warned me without knowing his own place, he declared to Yi Sun as well that he would defeat him. The sight of the confidently charging Maengju being rendered powerless before Yi Sun’s sword was quite entertaining.
As expected. The sword that Karispo had imitated was quite accurate. The fierce sword that inserted itself between trajectories and fired attacks without pause was not greatly different from what Karispo had reproduced. However, the essence was different. What Karispo had copied was nothing more than the surface. It was no wonder Karispo had lost to him. Since he had not understood what was contained within that onslaught, he had naturally been swept up in his opponent’s intent. Just as Maengju was now.
The outcome of the match was obvious even without watching. Maengju could not defeat Yi Sun. In my view, Yi Sun possessed a level at least two steps above the average participants in this tournament. If I had not been a variable, he probably would have comfortably taken the championship.
Yet what was strange was that Yi Sun’s character was different from what I had heard. Karispo had said that Yi Sun was a Sword Saint user. But wasn’t the character he had chosen Sword God? Had there been some misunderstanding?
It was Ha-rin who answered my question.
According to her, although it was true that Yi Sun had recently been playing Sword Saint, he had originally made his name as a master of Sword God. Even then he had been a famous user, but he had never shown much strength in tournaments. Then one day, Yi Sun chose Sword Saint instead of Sword God, and the story changed. He won the tournament he entered with Sword Saint, as if declaring that the reason he had been unable to produce results was because of the shackles called Sword God. Naturally, he achieved results in other competitions as well.
Hmm. So the Yi Sun playing Sword God right now was not showing his full power? How interesting. Even now he seemed enjoyable to toy with; I wondered what it would be like if he displayed his full strength.
The match naturally concluded with the words two-to-zero. Maengju could not break through a single one of Yi Sun’s illusion swords.
It seemed this had been the last match of the round of sixteen. Which meant it was now time to face WhipMasterLove.
The moment I stood in the area where those about to compete waited, voices reached me. The one grumbling was Maengju’s voice, and the small voice responding to the grumbling belonged to Yi Sun.
The instant he saw my face, Maengju shouted, but I ignored that voice. He was not worth paying attention to. I walked past him and looked at Yi Sun’s face. The awkward smile he wore belonged to a face too gentle to be called a martial artist. To think someone with a face like that used such a vicious sword. As expected, one should not judge people by appearances alone.
Apparently displeased that I offered no reply, Maengju reached out toward me. But that hand could not touch me. Because I had seized his wrist.
Fool. I could overlook him running around calling himself Maengju or whatever. I could even consider the prattling of a fool who didn’t know his place to be nothing more than child’s play. Still, shouldn’t he at least know how to distinguish between humans he may touch and humans he must not touch?
I released a hint of killing intent. Considering that he had made Ha-rin cry before, I adjusted the intensity. After all, I had no desire to see a grown man sobbing and wetting himself in front of me.
Crushed by the killing intent, Maengju could not utter a single word and collapsed to the floor. I withdrew the killing intent after seeing him, but Maengju could not stand. It seemed the strength had left his legs.
After sending the two away, it wasn’t long before WhipMasterLove approached my side. His face was filled with anticipation. It was the anticipation of being able to compete with someone like me, and also the anticipation of how much his imitation would be acknowledged by the original.
What a foolish child. I had already decided how I would deal with him. The hint of fanaticism was certainly concerning, but what irritated me more was seeing someone who didn’t even realize he had lost himself.
Even if he would regret it later, what needed to be corrected had to be corrected.
After giving a light reply, I summoned my long pipe and placed it in my mouth. I could hear Dekai and Gwon-jon chattering far away, but I let it go in one ear. It was obviously going to be meaningless noise anyway.
Before long, the surroundings changed along with a blue energy. Once again, the place I stood was the training grounds of the Heavenly Demon Cult. What was this? Had they deliberately chosen this place again? It didn’t matter. This was a suitable location to give instruction.
Beyond the smoke rising from my pipe, I could see WhipMasterLove’s face. The anticipation was clear in the way his hands fidgeted with his whip. What a foolish child. Did he truly believe I would acknowledge a mere puppet that could only imitate?
Did he think I would affirm someone who had abandoned himself, lost in what was before his eyes? I didn’t know whether the actions I would take from now on would strengthen or weaken that fanaticism of his, but I decided not to concern myself with it. When had I ever moved while worrying about such things? Even by my own assessment, I was the type of person who acted first and regretted later.
I struck the ground with the whip in my hand to draw his attention.
Joy spread across WhipMasterLove’s face. The sight of him not doubting in the slightest that his prediction would be wrong drew a hollow laugh from me. The higher one climbs, the more painful the fall. I wondered what kind of expression he would make when his expectations shattered.