The Incompetent Hero and the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering (6)
Darkness.
A dense, impenetrable black lay thick over everything, swallowing all sight.
Why am I here?
In the midst of that confusion, a sound rose through the air — a low, resonant hum.
It was like the wings of a thousand insects beating all at once, a vibration that set the ears ringing.
When he turned his gaze toward the source of the sound, a giant stood there.
A man with hair as black as the space itself, wearing a strange mask, was swinging a sword toward him.
I—I have to block it…
He thought he must block it.
He thought so — and yet his body would not move.
In that frozen moment the other man traced a perfect arc, settling into a stance faithful to the fundamentals, and executed the most basic of sword techniques.
A simple downward cut.
But he could not stop even that. He could only stare blankly as the blade, still sheathed in its scabbard, came down upon his head.
"Hah!! …Hah… hah… A d-dream… was it…?"
Hyeang tried to still his trembling body, but the shaking would not obey his will.
Whether that tremor came from fear or from a fighting spirit he could not say.
But one thing was certain.
"I… lost…"
He had been defeated, and that was why he now lay in this room.
In a single exchange, no less.
"…What a strange feeling. I wonder if this is what it means to be possessed by a ghost."
The moment he cleanly accepted his defeat, the trembling vanished as if by magic.
To claim he had not looked down on the man would be a lie.
He had clearly judged his opponent weaker than himself. But why?
Because the man was alone?
Yet Hyeang himself had entered this tournament alone.
Because of that suspicious mask?
Something so trivial could never tell him whether a man was strong or weak.
Because he was a man of Yeom with no particular martial art of his own?
That might be partly true, but it was not the root of it.
"…Arrogance."
The Unmoving Mind.
It was the state of heart Shaolin drilled into its disciples above all else — and yet, at some point, a seed of arrogance had sprouted in his own heart. That was why, the moment a man he believed inferior declared he would not even draw his sword from its scabbard, the Unmoving Mind he ought to have held was shaken — and from that instant, his defeat may already have been sealed.
And yet…
Even if I had held the Unmoving Mind properly… could I have won?
He closed his eyes.
And replayed the scene.
His opening strike — the Hundred-Pace Divine Fist. That attack itself, he believed, had been sound.
But the moment the man grasped the nature of the attack, he slipped past the invisible blow with almost casual ease. Hyeang thought he understood how.
By reading the direction and angle of the fist, the man had predicted the point of impact and moved before it landed.
More than that — he had dodged every single one of those attacks.
Without ever raising a sword to block, he had simply avoided them all, waiting with quiet patience until Hyeang, in his haste, committed to a greater technique.
Slowly. Calmly.
Like a hunter driving his prey.
"…A complete defeat."
Somehow he rose from the bed. His head still swam a little from the blow of the scabbard, but it was fine.
If anything, his heart felt clearer than before.
Back at Shaolin, the Abbot had told him he possessed extraordinary talent. That among his peers, none could compare. That much was surely true. But having talent was not the same as being strong.
He had failed to see that difference, grown arrogant, and fallen.
"I ought to go and offer my thanks for so great a lesson."
"Ahahahah!! Truly, truly magnificent!! Young hero— no, Great Hero!"
"Hey, you're laying it on a little thick."
"Thick? Nonsense! You finished every second-generation disciple of every sect with a single blow! The only people who could display that kind of divine might would be Elders at the least! No — Great Hero ended them with nothing but basic swordsmanship, so you may well surpass even that!!"
Man, this guy is way too worked up.
No matter how I tried to calm him down, nothing got through.
I considered smacking him once to settle him, then decided against it.
How badly must the sects have put this kid through the wringer for him to act like this?
The first day of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering was over.
The results were exactly as I'd expected — every last one of them put down in a single hit. Even Elders and sect leaders would be a coin flip against me; there was no way a disciple-level fighter was going to win. If one of them could, that guy would be a heaven-defying freak.
"As thanks for your hard work — or perhaps as a gift — someone has come with me."
"Right. Send Baekryeon in."
"Huh? You already knew?"
Yang Jamun asked in surprise, and Baekryeon, who had been waiting outside the door, opened it and stepped inside.
"Did I not tell you? Something so trivial could never deceive Doryeong."
"Haha…"
"I watched Doryeong fight well. You controlled your strength finely."
"Yeah, holding back enough not to crack the kids' skulls was honestly the hard part."
If this body of mine didn't have Technique at 999, half the brats I faced today would have ended up vegetables or permanent invalids with their heads caved in.
I wonder if those kids have any idea how hard I worked…
A truly tragic state of affairs.
"Please keep this momentum for the next two days as well! Above all, the first opponent you faced — Hyeang of Shaolin — was one of the leading contenders for victory in the Dragon-Phoenix Martial Contest. Having defeated him, the only one left of note is…"
"Namgung Dogun."
"So Great Hero's eye saw it the same way. Correct. Namgung Dogun is the previous champion of the Dragon-Phoenix Martial Contest. Last year he defeated every opponent ranked above him and claimed the title — earning the moniker Sword Dragon for it."
"…"
I'd checked the guy's stats too.
Hyeang and Namgung Dogun — those two alone among the participants of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering had stats that stood out. In a field averaging 100 to 110, those two each had at least a few stats that jutted well above the mean. If they'd faced each other, it probably would have been a decent match.
Too bad they ran into me first and got wrecked.
Knock knock knock.
"?"
"Who would come at this hour…"
"Strange."
"…Haa."
Having figured out who was outside, I quietly put on the wig and the mask.
Seeing that, Yang Jamun rose from his seat and opened the door.
Standing there, gleaming even in the middle of the night, was a shiny bald head — no, a monk. Hyeang.
"Ah… have I interrupted a private conversation?"
"…It's fine."
I dropped my voice to keep the silent-type persona going.
Baekryeon, watching from the side, let out a little snort of laughter.
Fortunately Hyeang paid it no mind. He stepped inside and offered me a martial salute, fist to palm.
"…What is this?"
"There is an old saying that in learning, there is no high or low. Put another way, I take it to mean that a student is not a fixed role — that any person may become a teacher. Thus I merely wish to show respect to the one who gave me so great a lesson. Please do not take offense."
"…I did nothing."
"That is not so. Had I not crossed blades with you, I would never have grasped the vastness of the world. I would have lived on like a frog in a well, mistaking myself for something great."
…No, I literally just cracked your skull without thinking. Why is this guy like this?
"And so I intend to return to Shaolin. I would dearly love to watch your fights to the end, but… at least in my judgment, there is no one left in this Dragon-Phoenix Gathering who could draw even a fraction of your true strength."
"…"
He'd read that dead-on.
He was right. Even the Elders and clan heads lounging around the arena watching at their leisure wouldn't be a match for me.
"Therefore I shall strive to grow strong enough that, someday, I might force you to draw your sword from its scabbard. Amitabha."
"…Amitabha."
I echoed it without thinking.
Hearing that, he opened his eyes a fraction, then smiled softly and turned to leave.
"I congratulate you on your victory in advance."
He left those words of celebration behind, never doubting for a moment that I would win.
"…He seems like a good kid. The sect leaders are one thing, but wouldn't it be nice if we could get friendly with the next generation of successors and all hold hands and play nice together?"
"I do not know what 'play nice' means, but… it would likely not be so simple. We are not in a position to meet them easily, and anyone skilled enough to be named a future sect leader would be highly valued by their order — meaning no small amount of interference."
Hmm… is that so?
Well, either way, not my problem! Just two more days of cracking skulls and I'm free!
Yahoo!
"Then I shall take my leave. For reasons of safety and otherwise, non-participants are forbidden from lingering long in the competitors' lodgings. I will go first — Sojeo Baekryeon, please do not be late in following."
"Understood."
Yang Jamun rose and left, leaving only the two of us in the room — me and Baekryeon.
A strangely buoyant feeling hung in the air.
It had only been two weeks, and yet something felt off.
"So. You been doing all right?"
"Mm. I have been well. So well, in fact, that I almost feel it has been excessive."
"That so…?"
"Judging by Doryeong's expression, something weighs on your mind."
"Yeah. Something like that."
Living here these past two weeks, I'd looked into a few things and heard a few things.
"Then I ought to give a gift to Doryeong, who has worked so hard."
"?"
So saying, Baekryeon loosened the knots of her clothes, flopped down on the bed behind me, and spread her arms.
"What are you doing?"
"It must have built up, no? Let me relieve it."
"Are you messing with me right now?"
I stared at her in disbelief. Baekryeon, who had been lying with her eyes closed, cracked one open, smiled, and said:
"Caught me, have you?"
"Want me to kill you?"
"Now, now~ calm yourself. Still, being free to fondle a beauty as you please is a fine thing, is it not?"
"Calling yourself a beauty, huh."
At my question, Baekryeon looked herself over and declared with perfect confidence:
"I should think I am rather fine, no?"
"…Yeah, that's fair."
She wasn't wrong.
Baekryeon sat squarely in the classic beauty category, so looking at her was a pleasure in its own right.
Especially those generously jutting breasts — absolute top tier.
I let out a long sigh, rose from my seat, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Baekryeon immediately sat up, slipped skillfully into my arms, and gave a little shiver.
"You just wanted to feel good yourself, didn't you?"
"Ah… truly caught this time… nngh♥…"
Layer by layer, I peeled Baekryeon's clothes away. The soft rasp of fabric sliding against fabric filled the room.
As naturally as water flowing, I stripped her down to bare skin. Her clean flesh came into view, along with the soft rose-pink of her areolae and nipples asserting their presence. I cupped one of those full, fruit-like breasts in my hand.
"Hngh♥…"
A small moan, half pain and half pleasure, escaped her as she trembled faintly.
Ordinarily Baekryeon carried herself like a bold, competitive warrior full of mischief — but the moment the mood turned like this, she flushed and melted into pure sensation, and that face of hers was adorable.
I kneaded her breast. It had the springy, chewy give of soft rice cake — yielding and reshaping under the pressure of my hand, then bouncing back to its original form the instant I let go. No matter how many times I touched it, I never got tired of it.
As I worked, my fingers found the most prominent point — the nipple standing out like a flower bud — and I pinched it, teasing.
"Hyaang♥"
"If you were this cute all the time, it'd be great."
"Th-that is… higit♥♥"
Before she could finish, I pinched her nipple again and cut her off.
Thanks to the effects of Killer Spot, I already knew every one of Baekryeon's erogenous zones. Following those mapped weaknesses, I toyed with her nipples and breasts while lightly nipping at her earlobe. Each time, Baekryeon made a sound like a deflating balloon and shuddered hard.
Then she looked up at me with a plaintive expression.
"What's wrong?"
"…You are being mean."
Even as her body twitched, she parted her thighs and pointed to what she wanted.
But instead of touching her pussy directly, I stroked the soft flesh of her inner thighs around it.
"Uuugh…"
"If you want something, you have to say it."
"…My pussy. Push into it. It aches so…"
"Sorry, but I… can't push in!"
I released her breast and instead drove my fingers into her pussy — already so wet that thick juices were spilling out — thrusting deep while my other hand pressed and rubbed her clitoris hard.
"Uuuuungh uuhhhuuut♥♥♥♥"
A sudden gush — spurting, streaming…
Unable to withstand the pleasure that hit her all at once, Baekryeon collapsed as if fainting, and at the same moment her bladder gave way, releasing a clear stream of piss.
"…Hey. I have to sleep here, you know."
Day two of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.
Honestly, even calling it day two didn't change much. It wasn't as if the kids had downed a truckload of miracle elixirs overnight and suddenly gotten stronger. They were still one-hit jobs, and day two ended in a clean sweep without a single upset.
By then, the gazes of the Elders and clan-head-level figures watching from afar had started to change.
Every time that happened, Yang Jamun grinned so hard his smile nearly reached his ears.
And so came the long-awaited third day of the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.
After taking victories against some Kunlun so-and-so and some Wudang such-and-such, the final opponent remaining was…
"So we meet again after all. I am truly delighted to cross blades with you in person this time."
"…"
I had run into Namgung Gay-Gay.
I still hadn't forgotten. The way that bastard had pretended to greet me, taken my hand, and fondled it.
Honestly… he should look at his own face before pulling that kind of stunt.
If he'd had a pretty-girl kind of look, maybe I could have let it slide — but does he have any idea how creepy it is when a grown man does that?
I remember the one he fought before was some girl from the Sichuan Tang Clan.
A girl whose specialty was swift, rapid hidden-weapon techniques.
But she never overcame the unavoidable flaw of projectile weapons — once your ammo runs dry, your power drops off a cliff. Namgung Dogun weathered her hidden weapons to the end, closed the distance, and forced her surrender.
I wish she'd been the one who advanced. She was pretty cute.
She was a total bitch, sure, but a few good thrashings would probably have instilled some manners, right?
I thought that, but in the end it was all meaningless speculation.
"I am aware that until now you have faced every opponent without drawing your sword from its scabbard, using only basic swordsmanship. Simply overpowering someone is easy enough. But to do so with nothing but the fundamentals — even I could not manage that. Therefore I shall give you everything I have."
Kuuung!!
Oh…
The presence had changed.
This sensation… it was a little like Sword King's Oppression, wasn't it?
"Imperial Sword Form — First Blade!"
The crushing weight on my body did not lift.
As if trying to exploit that opening, he closed the distance in a single stride and swung his sword.
I think I understood the feeling well enough.
So I stomped the ground with everything I had.
Kwaaang!!!
"?!"
The pressure pinning me down vanished.
Whether that force was there or not didn't really matter to me either way — but showing it break with my own hands looked cooler, so I broke it.
At the same time, I reset my stance.
He had charged in defenseless, and the shock of his sword technique shattering left him too stunned to flow into the next move. I took that opening and thrust.
"Thrust."
Kkuuk. Teong!!
"Gahk!"
Because I hadn't drawn the blade from its scabbard, he wasn't cut.
But unlike the other times, this was a thrust — so the impact would be considerable.
He bounced back like a bullet and barely managed to stay inside the arena, but I couldn't tell whether he'd blacked out or not.
In that brief moment he'd shaken off the shock and raised a guard with his sword.
"Cough… cough…"
Not out, huh?
Then I'd just put him out.
Puck!
"…"
Yahoo, I won!
…This feels weirdly like déjà vu, but I'm probably imagining it.