The Sparring Duel at the Training Grounds
At the center of the vast training grounds, Namgung Cheon and Hwangbo Gun stood facing each other.
In the seats of honor, the patriarchs of the three great clans led by Namgung Mugang watched with bated breath, and below them, the members of each household observed the two men in hushed silence.
At one side of the spectators' seats sat Ak Soyu, the young lord of the Shandong Ak Clan. A streak of crimson drifted toward him, seeping into place like spilled dye.
“You came.”
Without even turning his head, Ak Soyu casually removed his outer robe and handed it over. A small hand reached out and accepted it.
Beneath the hem of that blazing red silk, a hand white as polished jade emerged—and with it, a finely sculpted nose and cherry lips dyed a deep red. It was the treasured jewel of the Ak Clan, renowned as the First Beauty of Shandong—Ak Seollan.
She gave a small laugh as she looked at the robe. “The heat is everywhere, you know.”
“Cover yourself.”
Their words were curt, but beneath them lay the deep affection of brother and sister. Ak Seollan reluctantly pulled the robe over her shoulders and, gazing out at the training grounds, said,
“Will he really be all right? I heard the young lord of the Hwangbo Clan crossed the wall into the Transcendent Realm not long ago….”
Ak Soyu answered quietly, his eyes never leaving the arena. “Hwangbo Gun is strong. They say he mastered the Mount Tai Colossus Fist and reached the sixth stage of the Thunderclap Divine Fist faster than anyone in the history of the Hwangbo Clan.”
“Then why would Young Master Namgung Cheon….”
Ak Seollan's voice trailed off. Where her gaze had landed, Namgung Cheon stood barehanded, just as Hwangbo Gun was.
Ak Soyu shook his head. “I cannot say. Even granting that Young Master Namgung Cheon has made quite a name for himself with that affair involving Wi Myeong, Hwangbo Gun is a man he could not guarantee victory against even with a sword and full strength. And yet he has abandoned the blade…. I cannot fathom it.”
His eyes deepened. “Still, he would not do such a thing merely to lose. Victory or defeat, then, is unknowable. He seems to possess at least that much judgment.”
At his words, Ak Seollan nodded and turned her gaze back to the training grounds.
At the center of the arena, Hwangbo Gun stared at Namgung Cheon with smoldering eyes and spoke. “You went about with two swords at your waist, and now it seems you've set your sights on the seat of the Finest Fist under Heaven. But when greed exceeds its bounds, one ends up with neither of anything, wouldn't you say?”
It was a provocation bordering on outright goading, but Namgung Cheon only regarded Hwangbo Gun with the same impassive eyes, offering no reply whatsoever. That stubborn, impenetrable calm left Hwangbo Gun, the one who had thrown the provocation, feeling oddly embarrassed.
He coughed awkwardly and muttered, “Hm. A man of few words, I see.”
The moment Hwangbo Gun, lips pressed shut, took his opening stance and settled fully into position—
CLANG—!
The gong announcing the start of the duel rang out, clear and long, washing over the entire training grounds.
Before the sound had even died away, Hwangbo Gun's aura transformed. Internal energy began pouring ceaselessly from his massive frame.
When that raw power was added to the Hwangbo Clan's signature bulk, a pressure like Mount Tai itself came bearing down on Namgung Cheon. The surrounding air grew heavy and sank, and the more ordinary warriors in the spectators' seats found themselves holding their breath without realizing it.
And the moment that energy reached its zenith—
BOOM—!
Hwangbo Gun stamped the earth and charged. He tore across the stone floor of blue-green flagstone, leaving cracks in his wake. Every single step carried crushing weight, devouring his opponent's avenues of retreat and claiming the space itself in advance.
It was the Hwangbo Clan's Heavenly King Step.
In that instant, Namgung Cheon felt the strange illusion that the space around him was warping. Suppressing space with footwork alone?
Hwangbo Gun closed the distance in a blink and hurled a ponderous straight punch at Namgung Cheon's head. WHUMP! A fist laden with overwhelming force.
But Namgung Cheon did not meet it head-on. Tap. His feet traced an uncanny trajectory—footwork that fused the steadiness of Cloud Stepping with the deceitful unpredictability of the Demonic Path, something only he could perform.
WHUMP!
Hwangbo Gun's colossal fist swept past his body. KRAANG! The missed punch smashed into the arena floor and split the air with a thunderous roar. Fragments scattered in every direction, though before they could touch either man they were flung aside by the clash of their energies.
“Swift, aren't you!”
With that cry, Hwangbo Gun's fists descended upon Namgung Cheon with even fiercer momentum. The pressure continued relentlessly—but Namgung Cheon slipped past it again and again, each time by the narrowest of margins.
After several dozen exchanges, a strange light crept into Hwangbo Gun's eyes. He's only dodging. But….
He could not afford to underestimate this opponent. He reads every one of my forms and variations perfectly, deflecting them all with the bare minimum of movement. It almost felt as though the man was toying with his fist. Humiliation welled up in him, but Hwangbo Gun quickly recovered his composure. Losing his head before an opponent of this caliber would lead straight to defeat.
Which meant—I close the distance before he can react.
THUD!
Hwangbo Gun took a single step forward, and the already narrow gap between them shrank further. Another blow followed. A distance too close to evade. A punch he had no choice but to block.
And in that moment, Namgung Cheon launched his counterattack for the first time.
What unfolded from his hand was neither palm nor finger. It was a fist, clenched hard and solid just like Hwangbo Gun's own. The new martial art born from his moment of enlightenment—the Azure Sky All Phenomena Style. He intended to express it through the fist.
In martial arts, what matters is not the tool but the principle and the intent behind it.
A sword, if one held a sword. A spear, if one held a spear. And if one held nothing, then fist and kick. That was why the Azure Sky All Phenomena Style was not bound by form at all. Like water changing shape to fit the vessel that holds it, one need only manifest it in its most perfect form according to the implement at hand.
And in truth, there was no fist art in his current repertoire that he could display before others. Nearly everything he knew was Demonic Path martial arts, or techniques whose nature anyone would recognize at a glance.
Which was precisely why—I will show them. That the sky of Namgung can be unfurled through the fist as well, not only through the sword.
Namgung Cheon's fist moved like flowing water. Cloud Sea Barrier Heaven Fist.
Following the trajectory of Hwangbo Gun's thrown punch, Namgung Cheon's arm traced a circle, moving with effortless grace, and smoothly diverted the direction of that ferocious power. At the same time, his other fist lightly tapped Hwangbo Gun's elbow.
WHUMP—.
Hwangbo Gun's fist cleaved empty air, and his massive body, unable to withstand the redirected force, lost its balance for an instant.
“……!”
Hwangbo Gun's eyes flew wide. The hard fist he had honed his entire life was being rendered powerless by a subtlety of softness he had neither seen nor heard of before. But rather than discouraging him, it only stoked his fighting spirit.
“Now this is fun!”
Forcing his twisted stance upright, he seized that very momentum and unleashed an even more furious barrage. His movement changed. The ponderous weight vanished, and rapid-fire punches poured down like a storm. In answer, Namgung Cheon's fists transformed as well.
Heavenly Thunder Shakes the Sky Fist.
With all softness gone, his fists collided head-on with Hwangbo Gun's. KRA-KRA-KRA-BOOM—! Every time fist met fist, thunder like a lightning strike shook the training grounds. The two figures streaked across the arena at blistering speed, trading dozens of clashes.
BANG! BANG!
Fist energy raged in every direction, and shards of shattered flagstone flew through the air. The battle climbed toward its peak—and in that moment, both men understood. It was time to end this.
Tap.
Hwangbo Gun and Namgung Cheon broke apart almost simultaneously to prepare their final strikes. Golden fist energy began to smolder around both of Hwangbo Gun's hands.
KRA-KRA-KRA-BOOM—!
He had merely clenched his fists, yet thunder rolled through the empty air. It was the Hwangbo Clan's ascended art, attainable only by one who had mastered the Mount Tai Colossus Fist—the Thunderclap Divine Fist.
Facing him, Namgung Cheon lowered his stance as well. For the final technique. For the Moonlight Azure Sky Fist.
And the next instant, the two figures shot toward each other. Golden lightning blazed from Hwangbo Gun's fist, while Namgung Cheon's fist shimmered with a blue aura, cool as moonlight.
KWAAAANG—!
The flagstones of the training grounds split apart along the paths of their charges. And then—both men's fists stopped dead in midair.
Hwangbo Gun's fist hovered beneath Namgung Cheon's jaw; Namgung Cheon's fist had halted before the very center of Hwangbo Gun's chest, at the Gate of Life acupoint. Only the sharp energy coiled at their knuckles bit threateningly into each other's skin.
In the seats of honor, Hwangbo U barely forced down a body that had nearly leapt from its place. Ak Paesan's face, too, had gone rigid.
The training grounds fell silent. Only the ragged breathing of the two men filled the air.
And it was Hwangbo Gun who broke that silence. “HAHAHA!”
He laughed heartily and lowered his hand first. Namgung Cheon lowered his as well, without a word.
On the surface, a draw. But Hwangbo Gun knew. He had unleashed even the Thunderclap Divine Fist, while his opponent still had far more left unshown. And if he had taken up a sword….
Certain defeat. He could scarcely even imagine a situation in which he won. Hwangbo Gun looked at Namgung Cheon with eyes blazing with fighting spirit and said, “When I next master the Thunderclap Divine Fist, may I request another duel?”
Namgung Cheon silently nodded. At that, Hwangbo Gun burst into hearty laughter once more. “Truly a man of few words! Well, so long as we understand each other, that's all that matters. My thanks!”
With that, he abruptly turned toward the seats of honor and proudly assumed a cupped-fist salute. “Might I be permitted a word to the patriarchs?”
All eyes converged on him at the sudden motion. Hwangbo U coughed, as if to say there was no stopping him, and Namgung Mugang gave a slight nod with an impassive expression.
“Speak.”
The instant permission was granted, Hwangbo Gun shouted as though he had been waiting all along.
“How could a contest between men end so blandly as this!” Pointing with his chin at Namgung Cheon standing beside him, he continued, “We could not settle it with our fists—but in drink alone, I wish to prove that our Hwangbo Clan is the finest in the Central Plains! I beg you to grant us young masters a banquet of wine!”
Amid that boisterous proposal, one man—
“Hoo.”
Namgung Cheon let out a deep, long sigh that no one heard.