Proving Himself: The Black Flame Dragon (6)
The initial evaluation of the academy students' skills was handled by the instructors, but with so few of them, it was impossible to properly assess the abilities of hundreds of students. In the end, evaluations were first split by affiliation—whether to the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families, or to the 108 Peaks. Even further, within the 108 Peaks, what was their ranking? If from one of the Five Great Families, were they collateral or direct lineage? Skills were estimated based on such criteria.
From that standpoint, having me face off against Shaolin's Ilgak right now was no different from completely disregarding all established conventions. A disciple of Shaolin, the pillar of Mt. Tai and the North Star, versus a disciple of Tae-eul Gate, barely clinging to the fringes of the 108 Peaks. No measuring stick would ever deem us worthy opponents.
"This discussion's dragging on quite a bit."
It seemed we weren't the only ones thinking that. Some instructors and supervisors raised objections to the current situation, and even the academy head Buk Wonpyeong and his deputy stepped down from the platform for an emergency meeting.
"Looks like it's over."
"They'll surely adjust this absurd matchup. Ah, not that I'm saying you're unworthy, Young Master Jin."
"It's fine."
Contrary to Seong Moran's hopes, the deep furrow in Buk Wonpyeong's brow hinted that things hadn't gone smoothly. He glanced around the arena, our eyes met, and he sent a transmission.
Officially, it's because your perfect written exam score warrants a high evaluation of your skills... but in reality, it seems the Elder Hall pulled some strings.
Jeongdohoe again?
Doesn't seem like it. Baekdohoe also seems eager to gauge your strength.
I see.
If you wish, I can block it using my authority.
I'm good. Why disappoint a potential master uncle by clinging too eagerly from the start?
Buk Wonpyeong looked genuinely surprised before nodding.
This might be a better opportunity. Even if you lose to Shaolin, no one will point fingers at you.
No sooner had Buk Wonpyeong's words ended than an instructor bellowed.
"We will proceed with the spar! Those called, step onto the training ground!"
Ilgak ascended to the training ground, maintaining his composure amid the cold stares and sneers, utterly unfazed.
"It's a conspiracy to drag down our senior brother however they can."
Eunho ground his teeth.
"I'd rather Senior Brother just forfeit."
"Me too..."
"..."
"I heard Ilgak is the second strongest in Shaolin after So-bul."
Geum Pyo said nothing, but Dongryong couldn't hide his worry.
"Is that so?"
Even at my nonchalant reply, Eunho's fury boiled over, his clenched fists turning red.
"Why do we always get this treatment? Doesn't Senior Brother feel wronged?"
"People want us to stay in our place. Every step we take forward will irk them."
"..."
"Should we stay put just because it's dirty and underhanded?"
"Even if Senior Brother doesn't advance... you're still our Senior Brother."
I nodded. In my previous life, I couldn't protect them. I was too busy watching Gye Cheolyeong's moods to save my own skin. Yet they never once resented or vented at me. Even when I wasn't their senior brother, they stayed loyal.
"I know. But if I don't move forward, won't you all end up facing the storm alone?"
Geum Pyo, who had been silently twitching his lips beside me, suddenly burst out.
"Why do you always try to shoulder everything alone, Senior Brother! We're not kids!"
"I know."
This was my burden alone. Atonement for a past only I remembered.
"But if I protect you first, then you can protect more juniors and disciples after that."
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
Having grown up together, I could read their emotions instantly. Geum Pyo flared his nostrils when holding back tears, Eunho furrowed his brow deeply, and Dongryong silently welled up.
"Don't worry. I won't fall in a place like this. Dongryong, stop sniffling. If you cry like that, your senior brother looks like a total weakling."
"...Hic."
I unbound my Black Dragon Sword and Flying Dragon Claw, handing them to Eunho. The gold-silver-bronze brothers stared blankly, alternating between the sword and my face.
"Plus, who can match your senior brother when it comes to petty tricks?"
"...?"
"...?"
"...Ah!"
Only Eunho caught on, raising his brows. I gave the quick-witted one a slight smile, then turned and strode onto the training ground.
With each step, murmurs rippled through the arena, swelling into a marketplace clamor.
"...W-what? Didn't that guy specialize in sword?"
"Tae-eul Sword Lord's successor is sword-based, after all."
"So... he thinks he doesn't need a sword against Shaolin?"
"He's insane."
A faint crack appeared on Ilgak's serene, statue-like face.
"Why didn't you bring your sword?"
"Isn't fist technique your specialty too, Monk Ilgak?"
"...You deliberately left it behind?"
Ilgak's face twisted like one of the Four Heavenly Kings inside a temple's gates.
"It wouldn't look good for the top rank to go all out against an ordinary student."
"...Such arrogance..."
Did you think I'd just take it lying down?
"...!"
I'm not an idiot. You think I wouldn't see through your shallow schemes?
"Academy student Jin Sowoon. Telepathic communication is prohibited before the spar."
At the referee's rebuke, I nodded and said, "I hope for a good match."
Ilgak's face twisted at my smiling fist salute.
Just how far has my strength progressed now?
Compared to my previous life, my current abilities had advanced beyond measure. Back then, I scraped by rationing my meager internal energy; now, I could unleash Radiant Heaven Divine Palm twice without collapsing.
Comparing a third-rate low-level warrior to the top entrant of the Murim Academy was absurd to begin with. But setting that aside, discussing my level within the murim was more complex.
Basically, in this life, when facing Nine Great Sects or Five Great Families experts, I'd countered using Paesae-sik derived from Jegal Cheongi's past analysis, along with various tricks and memories—making it hard to gauge my true strength.
Recently, I'd clashed with a shadow assassin from the Alliance Lord's residence ignorant of Paesae-sik, but he was far beyond my league anyway.
In that sense, Ilgak was a true opponent to measure myself against. The only sect among the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families without a Paesae-sik. Or rather, one that never needed one.
Shaolin's martial arts, rooted in mind-body cultivation, disregarded technique efficiency, varying endlessly by individual enlightenment—rendering efficiency-focused Paesae-sik unnecessary.
"Begin!"
At the referee's call, Ilgak assumed his stance. Dragon King Fist, one of Shaolin's renowned Seventy-Two Supreme Arts. His fists poised like imugi awaiting ascension, ready to strike.
Dragon King Fist right away? He's properly pissed.
Fists like coiling dragons, poised to unleash.
I unfurled the stance for Cartoon Invincible Fist, amplifying the arena's uproar.
"He's really planning to face him with fists?"
"Arrogance beyond measure."
"He's just looking to save face with a half-hearted effort anyway?"
Ilgak struck first, piercing the din. Immovable Divine Step gliding like ice, followed by Dragon King Fist's chain strikes.
Fierce barrage flows like water, fangs sharp as dragon teeth—slicing like blades.
Papapapapak.
One form unleashed ten attacks, yet Ilgak pressed on relentlessly, disrupting my vision with frontal charges and rising lower strikes.
"Is this the extent of your arrogance?"
His tone polite, but his voice thick with rage.
Blocking twenty-five strikes over three forms, I deployed Tae-eul's Eighty Myriad Divine Steps to create an illusion sidestepping him, then retreated.
"...Hmph!"
Ilgak twisted his ankle at the sound of my true footfall, shifting to Eight Trigrams Lion Step. His form suddenly loomed before me.
Ten strikes per form rend the space I occupied.
I barely evaded, seizing his rear—but.
Thud.
Ilgak stomped hard enough to crack the ground, repositioning behind me in an instant.
"Even Sun Wukong couldn't escape Buddha's palm on his cloud."
Pupupupupuk.
Endless barrage fills the void.
I countered with Cartoon Invincible Fist's variations. Dozens of illusory fists clashed against dragon-tooth strikes.
Kwagagagak.
Underestimating its power and ignoring the illusions, Ilgak yielded his body and staggered back three steps.
He glanced at his forearms that blocked head-on, skin reddened, frowning in disbelief.
"Heavier than expected, right?"
"..."
Ilgak's fists shifted from sides to up-down. Tiger Fight Fist, another of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts.
Pak.
His form shot like an arrow via Eight Trigrams Lion Step, swinging tiger-like fists before my eyes.
Papak.
I blocked with Cartoon Invincible Fist, but each impact numbed my bones.
At this rate, my bones won't hold.
Ilgak, trained in external Golden Bell Iron Cloth, feared no clash—but I did. No need for brute strength-on-strength either.
Deflecting one fist, I twisted sideways into Lotus Flower from Yuyun Divine Art.
Crack.
"...!"
No matter Golden Bell Iron Cloth, joints were human. To avoid breaking his arm I'd seized, I leveraged my body weight onto it.
Ilgak's body flipped airborne half a turn. I slammed him full-force into the ground.
Thwack.
Absorbing the impact, he bounced up like a wind-filled pig bladder, dirt smearing his oblivious face, eyes wide as a rabbit's.
"...Lotus Flower Graft?"
Ilgak's incredulous expression. Techniques like Lotus Flower Graft or Four-Two Thousand Catties were shunned even in Wudang or Shaolin.
How shocking must Yuyun Divine Art's power be, properly circulated, compared to Shaolin?
"Did Tae-eul Gate have such arts?"
"This isn't a venue limited to select techniques, is it?"
"True... enough."
Composing himself, different energies gathered in Ilgak's hands: Dragon King Fist in right, Bamboo Leaf Hand in left—wary of my Lotus Flower.
I mirrored: Lotus Flower left, Cartoon Invincible Fist right.
Gulp.
Someone swallowed audibly as Ilgak glided forward. I met him head-on with Tae-eul's Eighty Myriad Divine Steps.
Dragon King Fist erupted first.
Puk, puk, puk, pupuk.
Deflecting each with Lotus Flower, I aimed to subdue using his momentum—when his left Bamboo Leaf Hand stabbed sharply.
Papapapak.
Dodging the dizzying sharpness frantically, the ground gouged where his hand passed.
Thud, thud, thu-thud!
Human hand versus marble, yet dust flew, chunks shattered.
As he withdrew Bamboo Leaf Hand and pulled back—
Seizing his flank with Tae-eul's Eighty Myriad Divine Steps, I unleashed full Cartoon Invincible Fist.
Innumerable fist shadows engulfed him. All four directions sealed—no escape.
With Golden Bell Iron Cloth to endure, I poured in all my internal energy.
Even the hardest rock cracks under relentless hammering.
Kwagagagagak!
Matching Dragon King Fist and Tiger Fight Fist against it, Ilgak reached his limit and withdrew his fists—likely planning to tank and exploit the gap. But enduring three cycles of my energy? Better I forfeit first.
As dozens of shadows swallowed him—
Boom boom boom!
Golden light flashed, massive explosions roared.
The unexpected shock flung me airborne; spinning several times, I finally landed.
Doubting, I looked up.
"Isn't that Diamond Demon-Subduing Fist?"
"No way... He's barely in his twenties?"
"Why not! They say Ilgak's talent rivals Ilmyeong!"
I knew he'd mastered up to Muscle-Tendon Changing Scripture.
"..."
But publicly, entry to Muscle-Tendon Changing Scripture was said post-thirty...
Monks lying?
Dust cleared: golden aura cloaked Ilgak's fists. One strike had nullified dozens of Cartoon Invincible Fist strikes.
Definitely Diamond Demon-Subduing Fist.
Golden halo shatters the onslaught with a single blow.
I couldn't hide my disappointment.
The world truly has no one trustworthy.