Chapter 143: Sparring Tournament-5
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 143: Sparring Tournament-5
"Forfeit."
That was the first thing I heard the night the bracket for the finals was announced, right after being summoned to the room where the Grandmaster and my Master were waiting.
"Does the Grandmaster feel the same way?"
I turned to the Grandmaster, who was watching the situation with a strangely detached air, as if it were someone else's business. She unfurled her fan with a crisp thwack, concealing the lower half of her face.
"Hmm, I don't particularly mind... but So-yu is being quite overbearing."
She was definitely snickering behind that fan.
I pouted and took a seat.
"Young Lady Cheong-yeon is..."
"Hush!"
Before I could even get the words out, Master cut me off with a warning.
I spent a moment wondering what I’d done wrong before carefully choosing my next words.
"I know Cheong-yeon of the Ice Wheel Art is strong. But I still have to try."
"It’s like throwing an egg at a rock."
"Even so, the egg should at least be thrown."
Our opposing arguments ran like parallel lines, never destined to meet.
As we bickered, each raising our voices to be heard, the Grandmaster finally stepped in, seemingly bored of spectating our spat.
"So-yu. You should yield this time."
"But, Master."
"I don't know what's bothering you so much. Are you afraid In-ho will lose to Cheong-yeon? That is only natural. I’m sorry to say this to his face, but there is currently no way for In-ho to defeat her."
I nodded vigorously at the Grandmaster’s support.
"But if he loses to the Ice Wheel Art..."
Master swallowed the rest of her sentence. It was likely a matter of pride.
"If he loses to the Ice Wheel Art?" the Grandmaster prompted.
"Doesn't that make the Flame Wheel Art look inferior?"
Master squeezed her eyes shut as if she couldn't even bear the thought.
"I have no idea why you would think that. Besides, officially, In-ho isn't even affiliated with the Flame Wheel Art."
That was true. I was officially part of the Novel Dojang.
"...Still."
Having lost her ground, Master fell silent.
The Grandmaster snapped her fan shut and stood up.
"Let us speak no more of this. In-ho, prepare yourself well for tomorrow's match. Even if you can't win, I’d like to see you land at least one solid blow."
"I'll do my best, Grandmaster."
"Good. Now, I shall go for a short walk."
After the Grandmaster left, an awkward silence filled the room.
Though she might have accepted it rationally, it seemed Master still couldn't wrap her head around it emotionally. She remained seated, her back turned toward me.
"Master."
As I approached her from behind, her shoulders trembled slightly.
"Master, you're worried I'll lose pathetically... aren't you?"
"......"
"Don't worry. Even a worm will turn when trodden upon. Even if I lose, I'll make sure to land that one blow the Grandmaster mentioned."
"It's not that," Master said, her voice strained.
"It's not?"
"...That's not why I'm trying to stop you."
"Then what is the reason?"
"I don't want to say."
She had already turned her body away, but now she whipped her head around to avoid my gaze entirely.
"Good grief... Well, I'm going to wash up and go straight to bed. What about you, Master?"
"......"
I really have no clue what goes on in the mind of a woman her age.
*
The first match, which Master competed in, was decided far too easily.
Her opponent was from the Sichuan Tang Clan—a name anyone who has read a martial arts novel would recognize.
As soon as the match began, Master drove a straight punch into the opponent's stomach and followed up with an upper-cut to the jaw, knocking him unconscious instantly.
Throughout the entire sequence, she didn't manifest a single spark of flame.
As her servant, I wasn't officially allowed to sit in the VIP section with the Grandmaster.
I watched Master’s match from the general seating, and as she walked down after her victory, our eyes met.
I hadn't told her I’d be in the general section, so it was quite impressive how she managed to spot me instantly.
Anyway, the tournament proceeded, and by the third match, the organizers called my name to prepare for the fifth.
I closed my eyes and meditated in the small waiting room.
I had told the Grandmaster and Master that it was an 'unwinnable match,' but I had no intention of entering the ring with that mindset.
"I'm going to win, no matter what."
As the saying goes, you have to aim high to achieve anything at all.
The third match ended, and the fourth began.
I focused my mind, filtering out the boisterous roar of the crowd outside.
Cheong-yeon and the Ice Wheel Art.
Since I only had fragmentary knowledge—that they fought by infusing their weapons with cold energy—it was difficult to formulate a strategy.
However, I tried to piece together the bits of information Master had tossed my way and what I knew from the novels I'd read.
Stripping away the trivial details, the most important thing to watch out for when facing the Ice Wheel Art was the 'Cold Energy' it generated.
Just as the Flame Wheel Art produced fire, the Ice Wheel Art was likely a martial art that influenced the opponent by generating intense cold.
It was probably like an aura from a fantasy novel—a martial art that applied a debuff just by being near it.
Or, she might be able to manifest the cold energy into a physical form and fire it. But I decided to set that possibility aside for now.
If you try to account for every single variable, you'll never settle on a plan.
If the Ice Wheel Art was a debuff-type aura, it would have a set range.
Once the match started, my first priority would be to determine that range.
If the range was narrow, I would stay as far back as possible and poke at her, looking for an opening. Assuming one existed, of course.
Conversely, if the range was wide, I would close the distance before the cold energy could accumulate and immediately go for a high kick. If it landed, great; if not, I’d just lose.
Another roar erupted from the crowd.
It seemed the fourth match was over.
"Next contestant. Please get ready."
A man with a goatee arrived to inform me it was my turn.
I opened my eyes and stood up.
The butterflies in my stomach were less intense than during the preliminaries.
Hooo.
I took a deep breath.
I drew the internal energy from my dantian and circulated it through my body in one large cycle.
I felt my body grow slightly warmer from the power of the internal energy.
"And his opponent! Kang In-ho of the Novel Dojang!"
Following Cheong-yeon’s introduction, my name was called.
Slap! Slap!
I slapped my cheeks twice to sharpen my focus.
Heat rose from my stinging face.
It was finally my turn.
*
I climbed the stairs and stood on the arena stage.
Cheong-yeon’s blue hair swayed in the wind.
She stared at me blankly with her vacant eyes.
"In-ho. Hello."
"Nice to see you, Young Lady Cheong-yeon."
"I saw you yesterday. You were good."
I smiled at her compliment.
"Thank you. I feel like that's the first compliment I've received since coming here."
"Really? Doesn't So-yu compliment you?"
"It's not that she never does, but Master is..."
I cut myself off, covering my mouth with my hand.
"I know So-yu is your master."
Seeing my surprised expression, Cheong-yeon shook her head.
"How did you know?"
I stared at her, my eyes wide.
"So-yu doesn't have the mental leeway to care about others."
"I figured if someone appeared that she actually cared about... they must be her disciple."
"Just for that reason?"
"Just for that reason."
The referee's flag dropped between Cheong-yeon and me.
The time to fight had come.
I slid my right foot back a step and raised my hands, palms bladed.
It wasn't the modern combat stance I’d shown yesterday, but the combat stance of the Flame Wheel Art.
"I don't want to hurt you, In-ho."
Cheong-yeon’s voice reached me from across the line.
"I don't want to hurt you either, Young Lady."
I fired back at her well-founded provocation.
"Now! Ready!"
The referee's voice rang out.
I drew up the meager amount of internal energy stored in my dantian.
"Begin!"
At the referee's shout, I immediately tried to create distance.
Or rather, I wanted to.
"What the hell?"
My left foot wouldn't budge, as if I’d stepped on industrial glue.
My feet were stuck to the arena floor, refusing to move an inch.
"I froze them," Cheong-yeon said nonchalantly.
"Wow, the Ice Wheel Art is a total cheat."
Manners be damned, the praise slipped out of my mouth involuntarily.