#130. The Black Flame Dragon Who Steals Opportunities (5)
‘Not worth making a fool of myself for nothing...’
In truth, he didn’t need to fast so extremely. Showing up just a bit haggard, without pushing too hard, would have been enough. But because he’d gone overboard for dramatic effect, things had spiraled to this point.
“What’s this? Still not getting up?”
Jegal Somyeong was already geared up to head out.
“No, wait—why the hell do I have to spar with you?”
“Didn’t I just say? Your dantian...”
“So, you peek into someone else’s dantian and act all high and mighty about it?”
At Jin Sowoon’s words, Jegal Somyeong stroked his chin, lost in thought for a moment. He seemed genuinely puzzled by his own actions. After a beat, something clicked in that brilliant mind of his, and he spoke.
“It’s fine that way, isn’t it?”
“Haa...”
It was ethically wrong, sure, but the world didn’t always run on common sense. And punishing the total military strategist of the Murim Alliance—who was also the supreme family head of the Jegal clan—as a mere disciple of Tae-eul Gate? That didn’t make sense either.
But isn’t it kinda pathetic how shamelessly confident he is about it?
Jegal Somyeong, eyeing his expression, said, “From that look on your face, it seems you’re not convinced.”
“You think that’d convince anyone?”
“It usually does.”
“...”
He never dreamed he’d be bickering like this with Jegal Somyeong, the man hailed as the world’s greatest brain. Was this some demon in disguise wearing his face?
“Do you still think there’s nothing to gain from me? I’m the Murim Alliance’s total military strategist. You’re a student at the Murim Academy. There are tens of thousands in the Alliance dying for a chance to even talk to me, and thousands more who sell their mansions like they’re nothing to bribe their way into showing off a martial art in my presence. I’m offering you two such opportunities right now, and you’re refusing?”
That was the kind of shit power-hungry maniacs did. He knew full well the Alliance would be reduced to ruins in the future, fleeing to the North Sea. Why bother sucking up to the strategist?
“Yes.”
“Heh heh.”
At his firm refusal, Jegal Somyeong looked caught off guard, grabbing his chin again and sinking into thought. Jin Sowoon just wished the man would leave already. His vital energy was fine, but he hadn’t eaten properly for days—it was all he could do to crave a good meal and a long nap.
But against his hopes, Jegal Somyeong was tenacious.
“How about this, then... You applied for a martial arts manual from Guigungmun, didn’t you?”
Since Moyong Jaehwa had decided to ditch the sword for archery, he’d set up a special curriculum to give the kid a solid foundation, even if he’d have to go it alone eventually.
“I’ll have to cancel that.”
“...”
“Oh, and that second event you’re preparing—the special instructor for teaching the White Tiger Sword Formation... That’s canceled too.”
“What the—? The White Tiger Sword Formation is already an official Murim Alliance sword array.”
He planned to spread the Alliance’s version ahead of time so he could teach his own improved take once they were assigned.
Jegal Somyeong nodded. “True, but wasting budget on having academy students learn that useless formation? It feels like a squander.”
“...”
“And that third event you planned—inviting the shamans from Mosanpa and Hyeongsanpa...”
“!”
This was preparation for clashing with the Blood Cult. Or rather, for the future battles against demons—it could save thousands of warriors’ lives. It wasn’t just about the academy students’ necks; most would become Alliance executives. If they couldn’t counter sorcery, the low-rank warriors under them would die en masse. That’s why he’d prepared it—to prevent greater losses.
“I followed every protocol and applied for the budget properly. Canceling approved funds out of personal grudge is unjust.”
“I know.”
“Pardon?”
“I know. And yet, I’m the one who can do that unjust thing, and you’re the one who has to obey.”
Jegal Somyeong pointed at himself with a finger, then jabbed it toward Jin Sowoon.
For a split second, he wished Jegal Somyeong was a demon. Then he could snap that damn finger without dooming Tae-eul Gate to destruction or throwing his masters into prison.
“Haa... Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“But I have a condition too.”
“A condition?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t I just say you’re not in a position to make demands?”
His tone was firm, like explaining how water flows from high to low. But Jin Sowoon wasn’t one to just take it lying down.
“Don’t you want to see my true power?”
“...”
“As you said, I’m good at bluffing even if I suck at acting. You cool with me half-assing it and losing convincingly?”
“What do you want?”
“Mantongbu has the Demon-Exorcism Sacred Wood, right?”
“...Huh?”
“Give me that.”
“Do you even know what that is?!”
“...It’s not like you have any use for it anyway.”
The Demon-Exorcism Sacred Wood came from a sacred temple’s pillar. When lightning razed the whole place, the last surviving timber absorbed all the temple’s spiritual energy. It couldn’t be made on purpose, but to those who didn’t know its value now, it wasn’t precious.
“...”
“You’d probably just use it for a plaque or something.”
It excelled at protective talismans against evil spirits. The wood wasn’t huge, and trimming the charred parts wouldn’t yield much, but if Hyeongsanpa Taoists performed an exorcism rite to make talismans, it’d shine in future demon battles.
“What do you plan to use it for?”
“...Something personal I want to make.”
Jegal Somyeong pretended to mull it over. But it was obvious acting—he knew full well the grandiose name didn’t match its current worth.
As expected, he nodded soon after. “Fine. But if you lose, no deal.”
Confident he could beat anyone his age, Jin Sowoon replied, “Got it.”
“Let’s go.”
“Hold on...”
“...What now?”
“Can’t I grab a bite first? I’m feeling dizzy.”
“...”
#
“Why the long face? You look like someone who just got screwed over again.”
He’d figured some academy student would step up—maybe not a total scrub, but a disciple from the Nine Great Sects or someone like Ilgak, who might hold a grudge from the Muryangbulgolmokhonjin incident.
“Isn’t this unjust?”
Arriving at the training ground by the dorms, he couldn’t help but frown at the man in his mid-thirties.
Nothing special radiated from his aura. Which, conversely, meant he was a high-level warrior who could perfectly contain it.
“Do you know who this guy is?”
“No clue.”
That was the real problem. Face, movements—total stranger. If he had to pick someone with similar moves, maybe the Murim Alliance Leader, but this guy was too young, with a different build and habits.
“But from the calluses on his palms and that flawless aura, I can tell he’s way out of my league.”
“A smart kid like you must have a way to win.”
With a straight face, Jin Sowoon shot back, “How’s a rabbit supposed to outsmart a tiger?”
Jegal Somyeong just nodded nonchalantly. See? My gut’s spot on.
“Good. Draw with him, and the wood’s yours.”
“I just said—bring someone I can actually fight!”
“Get to it. Keep whining, and I’ll tell him to give you a real thrashing.”
Jegal Somyeong waved him off dismissively. With no choice, Jin Sowoon drew his Black Dragon Sword, stepped forward, and cupped his fists.
“Please teach me.”
“...”
The man just nodded silently. Quite the stoic type.
As Jin Sowoon assumed the starting stance of the Socheon Sword Technique, the man stepped back one foot and pointed his sword downward.
A starting form he’d never seen. Since the strategist summoned him, he had to be Alliance-affiliated, yet this was an unfamiliar art. Surprising.
“Come.”
With the man’s word, Jin Sowoon cleared his mind, closed the distance, and unleashed the Socheon Sword Technique.
Shhiiik.
Infused with Seven Stars-level inner energy, it embodied extreme swiftness, shooting out like a streak of light.
Clang.
The man raised his downward-pointed sword mid-motion, deflecting it.
Jin Sowoon recovered his blade and thrust again.
Shhiiik.
Philtrum, solar plexus, groin—three spots anyone would instinctively guard. But the man simply retreated two steps, neutralizing it in one breath.
“Sharp.”
“Yeah? Then I’ll keep going. Got something to claim from the strategist.”
Using the recovery momentum, he spun, scattering the Great Heaven Sword Method. A dozen illusory swords bloomed around the Black Dragon Sword, sealing the man’s every direction.
Clang-clang-clang-clang.
The man retreated five steps, swinging exactly five times—matching the true strikes hidden in the illusions.
Parrruruk.
The indestructible Black Dragon Sword, forged of gold-reinforced unbreakable steel, trembled fiercely. The man’s sword was no slouch either—a peerless blade.
“Fine sword you have.”
“Way above my station, yeah. But yours seems just as good, sir.”
“Indeed... way above my station.”
A faint smile tugged at the man’s lips.
“I yielded three moves, so now we go for real?”
No reaction, but apparently he’d yielded three on his own.
“If you’re so kind to this junior, shouldn’t you spot me ten?”
The man glanced at Jegal Somyeong and shook his head. “Betting on a spar with me? Unforgivable.”
“The strategist’s got such a loose tongue. How do you handle big affairs li—Urk!”
Clang.
Before he finished, the man vanished with a whoosh, reappearing blade-first.
Jin Sowoon unleashed full-power Socheon Sword Technique for desperate defense while probing the man’s sword style. Had to be a master from the Nine Great Sects or Five Great Clans.
Clang-clang-clang-clang.
The man’s sword was incredibly fast—not quite his max Socheon, but swift enough. Yet it wasn’t purely swift; the path wasn’t minimized either. Middling, awkward... but each strike targeted vitals, blood already trickling from several spots.
Shhiiik.
Another neck slice. Blocking would lead to the follow-up, so he stepped back with Tae-eul Paeman Sinbo, leaving afterimages. Five steps back—the illusions’ necks and right arms severed by his blade.
“Mysterious footwork.”
“My sect’s secret technique, reclaimed after five hundred years.”
“Is that so?”
Unimpressed, the man moved again. His casual tone belied increased speed.
Clashing Black Dragon Sword against his—massive recoil flung Jin Sowoon back three steps; the man stood firm.
Thud.
‘Damn if I know.’
Over a dozen exchanges, but no clue to its origin. Not quite an epiphany abandoning forms. He’d seen a few in the Demonic Cult reach that, exuding overwhelming presence. This guy? Bland, almost unremarkable.
‘Unremarkable presence?’
Fast but not lightning-quick meant efficient. Silent, light steps despite speed—nimble footwork.
Shhiiik-shhiiik.
Now seven blades pierced deadly points. Origin unknown. But clues emerged.
‘Got it.’
Twin Heaven Sword Conclusion erupted from his hand. Dozens of sword shadows bloomed wildly, hurtling at the man.
He countered seven with seven, fearless.
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang—
Seven clashes rang out; Jin Sowoon retreated five steps again.
“I heard the Black Flame Dragon never retreats.” The man lowered his sword once more.
“Rumor’s off. I retreat plenty—after hitting back, of course.”
“Hm?”
Flutter.
Before the man noticed, his collar sash severed, robe splitting wide.
“...”
He looked genuinely startled. Knees bending for a leap—deadly serious now.
Jin Sowoon raised a hand quick. “One question first?”
“After the spar?”
“It’s spar-related.”
“...What?”
As he paused, Jin Sowoon asked, “Are you from the Alliance Lord’s Residence?”
“...”
No twitch, no expression change. But his pupils shook violently.