Entrance Exam (2): Practical Skills
Just as the sun was dropping and the sky began to darken, Namgung Gyeom received a sudden summons from an instructor and headed for Training Ground 17.
What he heard upon arrival left him rather flustered.
"You want me to serve as the opponent for an entrance practical? Against a new applicant?"
"It's a bit awkward to ask anyone else on such short notice. Can you manage it?"
"I don't mind, but who is it?"
"I don't know. That's why I called you."
"You don't know?"
"Supposedly from some mysterious one-generation sect."
At those words, Namgung Gyeom roughly understood how the situation was unfolding.
"So you want me to crush him and drive him out? Or draw out his martial arts?"
"The latter. We want to learn the name of the boy's school."
Namgung Gyeom let out a sigh.
"Please don't drag me into things like this. If Grandfather finds out…"
"He'll be pleased. He always says I should give you more real combat."
"…"
Finding no good rebuttal to the instructor's words, Namgung Gyeom lowered his head.
"This is truly the last time. If I win within ten exchanges again, just send me back to the Namgung Clan. I'm tired of crushing the spirits of the other seniors and juniors."
"That's why I'm telling you to try once. There was never a mysterious one-generation sect type during your time as a student. Who knows? Maybe the boy will beat you."
"Impossible."
Namgung Gyeom muttered as if he were exhausted by the very idea.
"I'm a genius, after all."
A short while later, when his opponent—Ye Hajun—arrived at the training ground, Namgung Gyeom swept an indifferent gaze over him.
Almost no internal energy? Must be external-arts focused. This isn't an era where lacking internal energy is necessarily a flaw. Body looks solid enough—sturdy.
When their eyes met, Namgung Gyeom clasped his fist in greeting and spoke in his usual gloomy tone.
"A pleasure. I am Namgung Gyeom."
"Ye Hajun."
Once the introductions were finished, the one-armed instructor briefly explained the rules.
"A simple spar. Best of three, first to two wins. Defeat conditions: back hits the floor, being forced outside the arena, or one side calling forfeit. Understood?"
"Yes." "Understood."
"Killing techniques are forbidden, and keep the internal energy to a minimum if you can. Weapons are allowed, but only wooden ones—no edged blades. It's a light spar, so don't get too heated. If things turn too intense, I'll stop you."
With that, the one-armed instructor stepped down from the sparring platform.
Below, four instructors in total stood watch at the four corners of the ground—north, south, east, and west.
Looking over the familiar sight, Namgung Gyeom muttered inwardly.
I hate being watched… Better finish this quickly.
He unfastened the true sword he always carried, set it outside the platform, and took up a wooden blade instead.
Back atop the platform, Namgung Gyeom asked Ye Hajun,
"No weapon needed?"
"Bare hands will do."
"Then we begin at once. I look forward to your guidance."
"I look forward to yours as well."
Both men settled into their ready stances.
The instant he confirmed his opponent had taken stance, Namgung Gyeom charged.
Body looked sturdy, so even if I make it sting a little, better to end it fast…
In a flash he closed the distance; his sword streaked toward Ye Hajun's shoulder faster than the sound of wind being cut.
And in the next moment—
With a heavy thud, Namgung Gyeom was rolling across the ground.
"?!"
What just happened? Namgung Gyeom's mind spun.
For an instant his vision whirled wildly, and the next thing he knew he was tumbling on the dirt.
What in the world just happened?
The sensation of his body floating, then finding himself already on the floor. Namgung Gyeom was not the only one stunned; the other instructors all stared blankly at Ye Hajun, wondering what they had just witnessed.
Then Ye Hajun extended a hand toward Namgung Gyeom and asked,
"Sorry. Are you all right?"
His words broke the silence, and one of the instructors declared,
"…Ye Hajun, one win. Namgung Gyeom—a moment."
Namgung Gyeom rose on his own and approached the instructor, who carefully asked via sound transmission:
Is something the matter? This isn't like you. Do you know him? Did you go easy on purpose?
My apologies. I let my guard down. He caught me off guard.
Let your guard down? You?
I'll get my head on straight and do this properly.
Let his guard down.
A chill ran down Namgung Gyeom's spine.
I let my guard down? Insane. If Grandfather found out he'd try to kill me.
Arrogance, conceit, pride, hubris, carelessness, patheticness—every negative word floated through Namgung Gyeom's mind.
…Right. I decided to leave because there was no one left worth fighting at Cheonmu Academy. If I lose even here, going back to the main family will only earn me Grandfather's scolding.
Swallowing the hot flush of shame, Namgung Gyeom stepped back onto the platform, drew a deep breath, and emptied his mind.
The future can wait. Focus on beating the opponent right in front of me.
He still had not grasped what technique the other was using.
But one mistake had already taught him the lesson in his bones.
Staring fixedly at Ye Hajun, Namgung Gyeom said,
"Once more. I look forward to your guidance."
"I look forward to yours as well."
Again both took their ready stances.
Watching the two men—far more tense now than before—the instructor felt a quiet satisfaction.
The boy's completely absorbed. It's been a long time since I've seen him like that.
Lately Namgung Gyeom had sunk into listlessness, yet he remained a genuine prodigy recognized by the Sword God himself, the man called the greatest blade under heaven.
That very talent had simply been too great; he could not fit in with the others and had been about to leave the academy and return to the Namgung Clan.
Perhaps Ye Hajun would prove the key that kept him here. With that hope, the instructor watched the second bout without missing a single exchange.
I got hit all at once last time, so carefully this round.
Slowly closing the distance, Namgung Gyeom mapped out his opponent's attack range.
Yet even as he gradually shortened the gap, Ye Hajun showed no reaction at all.
When the other still had not moved even after Namgung Gyeom's sword could reach him, a thought flashed through his mind.
A martial art that makes use of the principle of striking second to seize the initiative?
Yielding the first move to the opponent and thereby taking the advantage.
Realizing it, Namgung Gyeom clenched his teeth as if making a vow.
Then I'll shatter it with overwhelming speed.
In an instant the tips of Namgung Gyeom's fingers blurred.
Where ordinary swordsmanship draws a full trajectory, his left only a beginning and an end.
Omitting the process entirely, the sword stroke flew toward Ye Hajun's shoulder—
And in that fleeting instant,
Here it comes.
Ye Hajun leapt into his opponent's space and thrust out a hand.
He stepped inside the interval!
An enemy diving into the arc of the swinging blade.
At this range, even if he completed the cut, it would be his forearm—not the edge—that struck the man's shoulder.
Grasping it in the split second of the swing, the genius Namgung Gyeom instantly altered the trajectory—
What?!
The moment he saw Ye Hajun's eyes tracking that new path, shock filled Namgung Gyeom's gaze.
How does he know the form of Thunder Severing Flash…?
Seeing the blade edge coming for his throat, Ye Hajun raised his right shoulder and caught the altered trajectory on the flat of the wooden sword.
Kh…!
Namgung Gyeom leapt backward to reopen the distance.
But Ye Hajun's left hand was faster still, snatching the back of his neck.
In that instant Namgung Gyeom was dragged by the external force that was Ye Hajun.
He hurriedly shifted his weight onto his planted foot, trying to restore balance—
When did—?!
Ye Hajun's foot was already there.
A gentle nudge against Namgung Gyeom's heel, and the balance he had been forcing collapsed at once.
As his chest lay wide open, Ye Hajun drove a shoulder into it.
Thud.
Once more Namgung Gyeom's back met the cold stone of the training ground.
"…"
Silence fell again.
As if to break it, Ye Hajun spoke.
"Thank you for yielding the victory. Does two–zero end it, or do we go one more?"
The silence broken, those gathered around the platform seemed to snap out of a daydream. One instructor finally found his voice.
"…It's over. Good work. We'll notify you of the result later—find lodgings and rest for today."
"Ah, right. So the acceptance notice will take a little longer, then."
Speaking lightly, Ye Hajun once more offered Namgung Gyeom a hand and asked,
"Are you all right? Nothing broken?"
Looking at Ye Hajun, who spoke as if it were nothing, Namgung Gyeom lowered his head in shock.
I lost. Completely. Even in a pure contest of speed.
Would internal energy have changed anything? He did not know.
A true sword? He would already be dead. What difference would it make?
Caught in the first true defeat and despair he had ever known, Namgung Gyeom's mind reeled.
And a short while later—
"…My thanks for the lesson. Ye Hajun, was it?"
"Yes."
Looking at his opponent once more, Namgung Gyeom introduced himself again.
"I am Namgung Gyeom. I expect we shall be seeing a great deal of each other."
"Huh? Ah—yes."
After exchanging greetings with Namgung Gyeom once more, Ye Hajun asked,
"About the lodgings—are they free?"
"You may use any inn in the Outer Academy, but is there a problem?"
"Well…"
Ye Hajun scratched his head sheepishly.
"I don't have any money on me right now, so I was wondering if there's any support."
"Mm. In that case I can check on my end—"
"No need."
Just as the instructor began to rummage in his robes, Namgung Gyeom spoke.
"We have a villa. Have him stay there. Give my name and they'll put him up free of charge. Take this."
He tossed Ye Hajun a name plaque engraved with his own name.
"Return it when next we meet. Then…"