Chapter 14
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: The Dragon-Phoenix Tournament Finally Begins
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My footsteps descending from the platform were as light as feathers.
The sensation lingering at my fingertips from that single exchange moments ago was thrilling, and the rock-like tension that had weighed on my chest crumbled away like a sandcastle.
I sheathed my sword at my waist and headed toward where Senior Disciple awaited.
Senior Disciple stood with her arms crossed, feigning a stern expression, but her eyes brimmed with unmistakable pride.
"How was it? Still shaking?"
I grinned and shook my head at her question.
"No, Senior Disciple. If anything... I'm strangely calm."
I continued, recalling the sensations I'd felt atop the arena moments before.
"The moment my opponent's breathing grew ragged, the position of his feet, even the faint tremor in the fingers gripping his sword... It was all as clear as if I'd placed it right in my palm. I knew his grip was a mess before he even swung."
"Ho."
Senior Disciple's eyes narrowed in approval.
"That's the true gaze. The eye that pierces through superficial tricks to the essence of things. Proof that all the sweat you've shed hasn't been wasted."
She patted my shoulder with a satisfied smile.
"Well done, Yi Yi. But don't get cocky. You've only just reeled in a small fry. The real monsters haven't even bared their teeth yet."
She was right.
Looking around, I saw the prodigies from renowned clans already preparing for their next bouts, no time to bask in victory.
Their eyes remained cold and sharp.
I steeled myself once more and gripped the hilt at my waist tightly.
"I'll keep that in mind, Senior Disciple."
Kwaaaang—!
A sudden roar shook the training grounds.
A ferocious explosion, like a massive boulder shattering into pieces.
A whirlwind gale swept mercilessly through the front rows of the spectator stands at the same time.
Squinting against the sandstorm, I turned and gasped at the devastation atop the arena.
"Th-that's..."
Peng Soyeon stood in the center of the stage.
She held a hefty wooden saber lightly in one hand, a savage haze of energy rising around it like heat shimmer.
And at her feet...
The Jeomchang disciple—her opponent—sat slumped.
No, more like he was out of his mind.
The wooden sword in his hand had shattered into powder, leaving only the hilt.
Remnants of the wooden sword drifted down over his head like sawdust snow.
"U-ugh..."
The Jeomchang disciple clutched the broken hilt like a lifeline, trembling violently.
His lower body was visibly soaked.
He'd wet himself. Utterly crushed before the Peng Clan's overwhelming dominance—not just his reason, but his survival instincts trampled.
Silence.
Thousands in the crowd held their breath, staring at the scene.
Murmurs soon spread like waves.
"Heavens... That power with a wooden sword?"
"Did you see? The saber energy took form."
"The Peng Clan's saber arts... are they really that ferocious?"
Peng Soyeon looked down at her defeated foe with contempt.
She clicked her tongue and nudged the slumped man with her foot.
"Boring enough to yawn. Is this all Jeomchang's sword amounts to? Some lousy club?"
Her arrogant gaze swept over the disciples from various sects waiting below the arena.
A chill seeped into every spot her eyes touched.
I swallowed dryly and clenched my fists.
The real monster had finally bared its teeth.
"As expected... Monsters are monsters, no exceptions."
I turned at Senior Disciple's sigh-tinged voice.
She gazed at Peng Soyeon's overwhelming display with genuine admiration, unable to tear her eyes away.
"With that level of dominance, she could aim for the championship. It's not just raw power. The density of internal energy in her saber strikes could pulverize rock."
Senior Disciple glanced sideways at me with a curled lip.
"Yi Yi, you were brimming with confidence earlier. Think you can stay calm after seeing that? I'm worried Mount Hua's plum blossoms might lose every petal to the Peng Clan's saber wind."
I shrugged nonchalantly at her teasing provocation, but a chill still ran down my spine.
That single strike just now was on another level entirely.
That was when it happened.
Peng Soyeon descended the arena and strode toward us purposefully.
The air grew heavy as her massive frame approached.
She stopped right in front of me, looking down with a triumphant grin.
"So? Like my 'greeting'?"
Peng Soyeon brushed back her sweat-dampened bangs with exaggerated swagger.
Her eyes overflowed with the thrill and arrogance of victory.
"You saw it clear enough, right? How high the wall you'll have to climb is. If you don't want to get pulverized, forfeit now."
As the first day's sun dipped below the western peaks, all of Mount Wudang was bathed in crimson twilight.
The arena floor, scarred by dozens of clashes, lay pitted and cracked like a battlefield, the air thick with lingering heat and the metallic tang of blood.
The results were as expected.
The prodigies from the Nine Great Sects—Shaolin, Wudang, Zhongnan, Kunlun, Emei—advanced to the main round without a single elimination, while the elites from the Five Great Clans, led by Peng and Nangong, showcased their dominance and secured their spots in the next stage.
In contrast, countless minor sects and ronin who had boldly entered vanished like driftwood in a tidal wave.
It was a cruel, clear 'order of power,' as if decreed by heaven itself.
The victors returned to their lodgings, cradling fatigue and pride like spoils of war.
On the way back to the annex of Purple Cloud Pavilion, the night breeze was cold, but the blood in my veins still burned hot.
Kiiik—
Opening the wooden door released a familiar fragrance.
Senior Disciple was already seated at the table, waiting.
A single candle flickered atop the table, casting her shadow long across the room.
She smiled softly as I entered, though her eyes bore traces of deep contemplation.
"You did well today."
"Thank you, Senior Disciple. Watching bouts all day... my whole body feels on edge."
I hung my outer robe on a hook and sat across from her.
Senior Disciple silently took the sword from my waist and placed it on her lap.
She began wiping the blade with an oil-soaked cloth she'd prepared.
Swish, swish.
The only sound in the quiet room was the cloth gliding over the keen edge. Her touch was delicate, reverent.
Like a parent caressing a child's face, or a shrine maiden polishing a sacred vessel.
After focusing solely on the sword for a long while, she gazed at its candlelit gleam and spoke softly.
"...Primordial Thunderclap Saber."
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
Staring into her reflection in the blade, she continued.
"It's the pinnacle among the Peng Clan's hereditary arts. Peng techniques typically overwhelm with brute force, but the Primordial Thunderclap Saber follows a different path. It channels primordial energy into the saber, destroying everything it touches from within."
Her hand paused briefly, then resumed stroking the blade slowly.
"Soyeon's display was impressive. Disrupting her opponent's internal energy with a wooden saber, no less. However..."
Senior Disciple looked up at me.
Her eyes gleamed deeply in the candlelight.
"It's far from 'perfect.' The Primordial Thunderclap Saber's immense power comes at the cost of extreme internal energy drain and tricky energy control. Her strikes are ferocious, but I felt a faint tremor at the tail end."
She held the sword up to the light.
The cold gleam sliced through the room.
"The strong are prone to breaking, and great power carries great flaws. It may seem impregnable like a fortress wall, but in the instant control falters, that power becomes poison that strikes its wielder."
She handed me the sword and spoke firmly.
"If you face Soyeon tomorrow, don't clash head-on. Mount Hua's sword is like the plum blossom. Bloom wildly and flow with the wind. When her saber strike peaks and wavers, slip into that tiny crack... Even a mountain of rock will crumble like a sandcastle."
I took the sword and nodded.
Its weight sank into me, along with her teachings, deep into my chest.
"Thank you. I won't let you down."
At my resolute reply, Senior Disciple set the cloth aside and met my eyes.
Her face, lit by the candle, bloomed with a warm, gentle smile like spring sunlight.
"Let me down?"
She shook her head and reached out, cupping my cheek softly.
Her hands, callused from harsh training, held a warmth softer than anything in the world.
"Yi Yi, no matter the outcome, I could never be disappointed in you. Victory and defeat are mere strokes of fate. In this vast jianghu, one win doesn't guarantee eternal glory, nor does one loss negate everything you've achieved."
Her eyes held me with deep affection.
"It's not just me. Your senior brothers back at Mount Hua, even the strict Senior Uncle and the elders—they'll feel the same. What they want isn't flashy titles, but you standing tall with Mount Hua's sword in hand."
Her voice soothed the anxiety and pressure coiled deep in my heart like a gentle breeze.
The taut strings of my mind loosened.
A faint smile crept onto my lips unbidden.
"So... don't take it too heavily. Just be yourself, bloom freely like Mount Hua's plum blossoms."
Senior Disciple tapped the sword hilt in my hand playfully.
"Of course, if our cute little junior disciple flattens the Peng Clan's nose, it'll give us one more thing to brag about to Senior Uncle and the others."
Her joke drew silent laughter from us both as we looked at each other.
The tension filling the room had vanished, replaced by cozy reassurance.