Dragon-Phoenix Gathering (11)
Dragon-Phoenix Gathering (11)
"Do you have nothing to say to me?"
Hwang Ryong-seong's voice rang out clearly across the arena. He wore an oily smile and tilted his head, exuding arrogance. Jang Geon's eyes were bright and clear; he returned a genial smile, his posture polite. Hwang Ryong-seong's question seemed laden with ill intent, but Jang Geon, as if failing to notice, answered affably.
"Standing in the martial arena, how could I broach personal matters? I've heard that the palm techniques of the Eight Trigrams Association's leader, Hwang Ryong-seong, are renowned throughout Hubei Province. I'm merely grateful to the Murim Alliance for granting me the opportunity to witness and learn from them."
"...Ah, I see. Very well. I look forward to our match as well."
Hwang Ryong-seong's expression turned displeased. Had something in the question rubbed him the wrong way? Zhuge Yeong-yu gestured with his chin toward Hwang Ryong-seong's offended demeanor and spoke.
"Not long ago, Jang Geon had a dispute with a member of the Eight Trigrams Association. It seems Hwang Ryong-seong held a grudge and tried to provoke an emotional fight here, but Jang Geon didn't take the bait."
"Using such petty tricks. A real man ought to be forthright and honorable."
"Seeing them act so brazenly even when the fault lies with them, I feel rather displeased myself."
Jang Geon continued to wear his genial smile, even offering greetings to those around him. Each time he did, Hwang Ryong-seong's face soured further. It seemed he absolutely loathed someone else drawing attention on the stage.
"Let us see how superb the sword techniques of the Blue River Sect truly are."
Hwang Ryong-seong spoke as he rolled up both sleeves. The moment he planted his feet, the arena floor shook lightly. Feeling the heavy shockwave spread, my eyes widened, and Zhuge Yeong-yu's lips twitched. Jang Geon, too, withdrew his genial smile; with a serious gaze, he drew his sword and spoke.
"How could I possibly compare to the martial arts of great hero Hwang Ryong-seong? I humbly request a lesson."
The two men assumed their stances in silence. Jang Geon gripped his sword in a reverse hold and lowered his stance, while Hwang Ryong-seong bent at the waist like a wild beast or a wrestler, swelling his upper body. Even through his baggy clothes, the contours of his muscles were visible, and his eyes were piercingly sharp.
"Then, let the match begin!"
A gong rang out with the announcer's voice. Neither could be said to have moved first—they both surged forward, and Hwang Ryong-seong's hand tore through the air. A beat later, wind stirred along the path they had traced, and dust spread in all directions.
Having evaded Hwang Ryong-seong's strike, Jang Geon swung his reverse-gripped sword in a wide arc, aiming for his opponent's chin.
Kang!
Sparks flew with a sharp clang as Hwang Ryong-seong angled his palm edge sideways and tilted his body in midair. Watching this, Zhuge Yeong-yu remarked.
"He set his hand on edge to deflect the blade. Truly impressive."
Jang Geon clicked his tongue and rolled his body backward. Over the spot where Jang Geon had vanished, Hwang Ryong-seong stomped his True Step, and the arena thundered once more. Many people flinched at the 'Kung!' sound, and Seon-go watched the scene with wide, round eyes.
Jang Geon, observing Hwang Ryong-seong's movements from a distance, furrowed his brow when he saw the man wasn't moving. After stomping his foot down hard enough to crater the arena floor, Hwang Ryong-seong remained still, like someone who had thrown out his back.
Both hands were gathered as if in prayer, and his eyes tracked Jang Geon's movements. Not knowing what on earth he was doing, Jang Geon hesitated and slowly circled Hwang Ryong-seong clockwise.
Seeing Jang Geon on the move, Hwang Ryong-seong broke his True Step and rose back up. His agonizingly slow rise appeared to be a massive opening, so Jang Geon channeled sword energy into his blade and shot forward like a bullet.
Notably, the path Jang Geon ran was not a straight line; it darted swiftly left and right like a serpent, and as his sword energy traced that same trajectory, it looked exactly like a blue river flowing outward.
"They say the Blue River Sect's sword techniques meld harmoniously with their movement techniques, evoking the image of a flowing river. We are witnessing a fine spectacle."
Zhuge Yeong-yu wore a delighted expression as he marveled. Even Hwang Ryong-seong, faced with agile movements that made it impossible to pin down the attack direction and ferocious inner energy, widened his eyes and stepped backward. But simply stepping back was not enough to evade that sword.
The moment the blue trajectory precisely targeted Hwang Ryong-seong's throat and flew in, Hwang Ryong-seong vanished from Jang Geon's sight.
"Huh—?"
He hadn't actually disappeared, but to Jang Geon's eyes, it certainly looked that way. Hwang Ryong-seong had dodged with a bizarre posture, bending his body all the way back from the knees. He folded himself backward with a stagger, his hands clenched like a cat's, then stretched one leg straight out, traced a circle, and righted his stance.
Someone in the spectator seats shouted.
"Isn't that the Drunken Fist?"
"I thought we'd never see it again after they banned drinking in the martial arena. What a fine spectacle."
Seeing the man make a wide rotation of his body, Jang Geon tried to recover from his swung sword and land. But Hwang Ryong-seong, who had recovered his stance faster than Jang Geon, raised his foot high as if he had predicted it.
Kung!
"Kyaak!"
A second True Step shook the martial arena. This time, the spreading shockwave was so immense that even Seon-go in the spectator seats was startled. Even among those who had cultivated considerable martial arts, some eyes went wide with surprise, and among the masters seated in the honored guests' section, some voiced their admiration. Zhuge Yeong-yu, too, widened his eyes, his expression one of shock at the force of it.
"He was at this level?"
It seemed he, too, had failed to gauge Hwang Ryong-seong's true strength. Even among peak masters, the difference in caliber was clear. Jang Geon had likewise misjudged Hwang Ryong-seong's abilities. Having taken the flow of inner energy—palpable even from afar—right at close range, Jang Geon stumbled without landing properly. The way his face contorted suggested he had even sustained internal injuries.
Before that same Jang Geon, Hwang Ryong-seong once again brought his two hands together as if in prayer. Unable to evade, Jang Geon forcibly pulled his arm in with a look of dismay, and Hwang Ryong-seong's mouth opened.
"Yellow Dragon Twelve Palms. First stance."
Where had I heard that name before?
"Palm Strike Heavy Hit."
Following the name of a martial art that sounded somehow familiar, an utterly bewildering stance name came bursting out. Jang Geon, upon hearing it, tilted his head as if wondering if he'd misheard. Then Hwang Ryong-seong's two palms shot forward rapidly, as if trying to shove his opponent away.
Kwang!
"Kkuwaaaaaaak!"
But that was no mere shove. It was a terrifying palm technique that extended the hands outward and simultaneously detonated the inner energy within the body through the palms, utterly crushing the opponent. Jang Geon's arms, which he had crossed to block, were twisted and mangled into the shape of palm prints, and clumps of blood gushed from his screaming mouth.
The sword he had been gripping flew into a corner of the arena, its hilt bent and the blade shattered to pieces. The arena floor bore marks as if a colossal dragon had clawed its way across it. Swept up in the dust cloud, Jang Geon's form was nowhere to be seen. Hwang Ryong-seong stood still with both arms extended forward for a moment, then crossed his arms, dusted off his sleeves, and raised his arms with a triumphant expression.
"Physician! Call the physicians!"
The physicians could be seen dashing into the dust cloud, and an old man and a woman wearing the Blue River Sect's robes screamed and rushed out.
"No! You bastard! You must not die like this, do you hear me!"
"Senior brother! No! Senior brother!"
The arena erupted in roaring cheers for Hwang Ryong-seong, who had dominated the martial arena with overwhelming skill. Both those who already knew Hwang Ryong-seong's notoriety and those who had never heard his name until now had it seared into their memories with that single blow.
"Uwaaaaaaah!"
"Waaaaaaah!"
Hwang Ryong-seong wore a triumphant expression and waved to the spectators. Zhuge Yeong-yu chewed on his fingernails with a displeased look.
"He executed Jang Geon."
"He didn't seem to have died, though."
The Blue River Sect members had rushed over in alarm, but the screaming soon subsided, and judging by the coughing sounds coming from within, Jang Geon had not died. As if to prove my words, Jang Geon was carried out on a stretcher. He still had breath in him.
"Keuh-heok...! Keo-heok...!"
Zhuge Yeong-yu gazed at Jang Geon's broken arms and spoke.
"It's no different from death. With those injuries, Jang Geon will need a long period of recuperation. A sect that loses its main fighting force is no different from a corpse here in Hubei Province. How do you suppose the Murim Alliance will deal with these thorns in their side during that time? They'll raise Hwang Ryong-seong's name high and work to bury Jang Geon. Raising Jang Geon up today was for the purpose of executing him in that manner. Killing him in the match is the inferior method; killing him through rumor after the match is the superior one."
The phrase "killing through rumor" sounded truly intriguing. With the sight of Jang Geon being carried away behind him, Hwang Ryong-seong offered greetings to the spectators.
"Thank you all for coming. If I may use this occasion to say a few words: the Eight Trigrams Association always welcomes talented martial artists to join us. If today's match has left a strong impression on you, please seek me out at any time. The Eight Trigrams Association's doors are open."
Hwang Ryong-seong's eyes glinted.
"That bastard."
He was a troublesome bastard.