Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: The Sore Finger
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Each step Peng Soyeon took onto the training grounds sent heavy vibrations resounding outward.
Her hair, tightly bound up, whipped sharply in the fierce wind.
A ferocious aura, as if it might explode at any moment, rose from her entire body like a heat haze.
Yet at the base of that aura lay a deep shadow she didn't want anyone to see.
Her gaze frantically swept over the spectator stands.
Her eyes trembled with unease, like a beast cub searching for its lost mother.
She was looking for someone.
And it didn't take long to find her target.
Even amid the packed crowd swarming like ants, there was one distinctly alien space.
As if an invisible barrier had been erected around them, people instinctively avoided them, forming a circular clearing.
And at its center stood massive men who towered a full head above the crowd.
Arms swollen taut as if their muscles might burst, breastplates of beast hide, and above all, the overwhelming pressure they exuded.
They were warriors of the Hebei Peng Clan.
And in their midst stood a man as steadfast as a rocky mountain.
Peng Jeongbo, the young lord of the Peng Clan, her eldest brother.
The moment their eyes met, Peng Soyeon whipped her head away as if scorched.
Terror sank her heart like a stone, mingling with a surging desire for recognition that churned her insides.
Her hand gripped the sword hilt so tightly it seemed her bones might crack.
'Look, brother. See how strong I am.'
Veins bulged across the back of her hand, turning it deathly pale.
"First match of the preliminaries! Peng Soyeon of the Hebei Peng Clan versus Yu Chaek of the Kunlun Sect!"
The referee's shout tore through the air.
BOOOOM—!
Peng Soyeon's form shot forward like a storm.
There was no probing exchange.
From the start, she unleashed her full inner energy, swinging her blade.
A horrific ripping sound tore through the air as an immense blade qi surged toward her opponent.
It was less a spar and more an execution laced with killing intent.
RUMBLE!
Her ferocious slash struck the training grounds like a bolt of lightning.
The solid granite floor cracked in a spiderweb pattern, shards flying everywhere.
Yet where that savage strike should have landed, only empty air remained.
Yu Chaek of Kunlun had leaped aside like a sheet of paper, evading the destructive arc.
Truly living up to the Nine Great Sects' fame, his movements were as graceful and fluid as a crane strolling atop clouds.
It was the exquisite technique of the Cloud Dragon Great Eight Forms, slipping elegantly into the gaps of brute-force suppression.
"Ooh...! Dodging that monstrous power so effortlessly!"
"The Peng Clan's blades are fearsome indeed, but Kunlun's sword is no slouch either!"
Exclamations erupted from the stands.
The crowd lost themselves in cheers at the spectacle of Peng Soyeon's overwhelming destructive power clashing with Yu Chaek's masterful footwork.
But amid that cauldron of fervor, no sound reached Peng Soyeon's ears.
Her gaze instinctively flicked back there in that split second.
Peng Jeongbo's face.
The rock-hard line of his mouth twisted ever so slightly.
It wasn't quite disappointment, nor mockery—heavy with a resigned "Of course."
That cold stare, like watching a clueless child tumble, stabbed at Peng Soyeon's heart.
'No... no!'
Her mind flashed white.
Reason snapped, filled only with blind impatience.
Peng Soyeon bit her lip until blood welled, readjusting her grip on the blade.
Inner energy screamed through her veins, roiling wildly.
"Raaargh!"
With a beastly roar, her blade cleaved the air once more.
This time, a savage energy poured down like a waterfall, fierce enough to shred her own flesh.
Uncontrolled power, unrestrained violence sought to devour the Kunlun disciple.
BOOM! KABOOM!
The follow-up barrage was like raging waves shattering a dam.
Each flash of the blade unleashed a thunderous boom, as if space itself crumpled.
Every form transcended mere heavy blows—the essence of the Primordial Thunderclap Saber.
A pinnacle chain of explosive power unleashed in succession.
Yu Chaek's face drained to earthen gray.
Even the elegant arcs of Kunlun swordplay unraveled powerless before Peng Soyeon's dominance.
Blocking by force rattled his bones; evading pressed his momentum, rooting his feet.
"Th-this... isn't peak junior realm!"
"Already breached pinnacle at that age? She'd hold her own in the Grand Martial Tournament Under Heaven!"
As awed praises poured from the crowd, Peng Soyeon pressed relentlessly, deaf to it all.
Her eyes burned bloodshot, fixed on not just the foe before her, but her own weakness to cleave away.
CLANG—!
A dying metallic screech rent the air.
Yu Chaek's sword, thrust out in desperate final defense, snapped in two against Peng Soyeon's blade edge.
"Ah... aaah...!"
Yu Chaek crumpled to the ground clutching the broken hilt.
Terror-filled eyes stared up at the chill blade hovering like death's shadow.
It was the instant Peng Soyeon's blade plunged mercilessly toward his crown.
Whumm—stop.
The storm-like momentum halted abruptly, like a lie.
Her blade trembled faintly, halted without severing a single hair above Yu Chaek's forehead.
Peng Soyeon glared down at her collapsed foe with bloodshot eyes, heaving ragged breaths.
A moment later, she sheathed her blade behind her back and curtly cupped her fists.
"...It was an honor to cross swords with Kunlun's blade."
Her voice held less a victor's arrogance than the fragile relief of one barely suppressing rampage.
Veins throbbed on her neck, fingertips quivering faintly—proof of how precariously she'd balanced moments before.
Yu Chaek, dazed on the ground staring blankly skyward, finally snapped to and staggered up on trembling legs.
He returned the salute with his broken hilt, his face etched with defeat and strange reverence.
"Truly the Hebei Peng Clan... That aura was like Mount Tai itself. Never in my life have I faced such a weighty blade."
Yu Chaek let out a wry yet refreshing chuckle, offering praise.
The graceful demeanor of a famed sect disciple, admitting defeat cleanly.
But no accolades reached Peng Soyeon's ears.
Lips pressed tight, she stared coldly at her palm with cooling eyes.
'Just this much...'
Hot bile surged within.
Not even the finals—just the first preliminary bout.
She should have crushed him in one overwhelming strike, an insurmountable gap none could challenge.
Yet breaking a single sword took all those exchanges.
She'd shown an ugly display before her brother watching.
Peng Soyeon's brow furrowed in unbearable rage and self-loathing.
Amid victory's cheers, she alone drowned in defeat, clenching her fist to crushing tightness.
Peng Soyeon dragged her leaden feet down from the grounds.
She lacked the courage to lift her head.
Like a criminal, eyes downcast, she halted before Peng Jeongbo's towering shadow.
Forced trembling hands cupped in salute; her view held only his pristine black leather boot tip, unscratched.
Its cold texture felt chillingly like her brother's heart.
"Congratulations on your first preliminary victory. I hear your opponent was Kunlun's prodigy, yet mere chaff before your blade. Fine momentum."
Peng Jeongbo's voice from above was perfect praise in content.
Yet the tone was horrifically dry, like reciting from a book.
No familial warmth or pride—not a trace.
Merely the polished rhetoric befitting the Peng young lord on a formal stage.
Soyeon bowed stiffly like a mechanical doll, offering a curt greeting.
The cheers and praise from Peng retainers rang in her ears as mere buzzing tinnitus.
She spun and fled the grounds like escaping.
Her brother's dry gaze burning her back like a hot iron quickened her steps ever faster.
As breath caught at her throat and vision blurred dizzily, a familiar figure blocked her path.
Plum Blossom Yeon and Yi Yi, heading to the waiting area for their own matches.
"Oh my, Soyeon. Already done? The whooshes echoed all the way to the lodging. You won, of course?"
"Sister..."
Peng Soyeon's bloodshot eyes welled up the instant they met her senior disciple's.
Like one possessed, she staggered forward and collapsed wordlessly into Plum Blossom Yeon's embrace.
The iron-hard, massive frame of Peng Soyeon burrowed into the slender Plum Blossom Yeon like a willow swaying in spring breeze.
No longer the Peng lady poised to command the world—just a wounded child craving comfort.
"Hic... sniff..."
Muffled sobs broke from her back, face buried in Plum Blossom Yeon's shoulder.
Startled wide-eyed for a moment, Plum Blossom Yeon soon stroked the quaking back with gentle hands.
"There, there... You must have had it rough."
The massive body in her arms trembled piteously.