Chapter 135
Translator: penny
Chapter: 135
Chapter Title: Three-Eyed Blade's Defeat
The Joo family, located in Hubei province.
It was a mid-sized clan on par with the Mok family in scale, but unlike the Mok family, which held a firm foothold in Shanxi, the Joo family barely scraped by as a martial clan in Hubei, where the Wudang Sect dominated.
From this Joo family, a comet-like figure had emerged: Three-Eyed Blade Joo Wangpil.
Born as the second son, he was a genius whose martial prowess surpassed his ten-years-older brother.
Excluding the nearby Wudang Sect, no one in his age group could match Joo Wangpil.
However, with his brother—already a decade older—firmly set as the next family head, he set out for the Murim Alliance with grand ambitions.
After three failed attempts, at the remarkably young age of twenty-six, he proudly passed the Yellow Dragon Exam and joined the White Tiger Squad.
Five years had passed since he thought that joining the Alliance would let him meet all the beautiful maidens he could want.
'Why am I so unpopular?'
Joo Wangpil desperately ignored the large mole on his forehead.
He blamed women for his lack of appeal.
'Those girls can't read people at all. Looks aren't everything for a man...'
He liked beautiful women himself, but couldn't accept that women preferred handsome men.
That inferiority complex soon turned into resentment toward handsome men.
'Those talentless pretty boys get all the girls...!'
Then, an incident sparked his smoldering jealousy into a blaze.
-Sword Phoenix Moyong Hui is dating some no-name punk.
The rumor spread that the Sword Phoenix, idol of every man in the Murim Alliance, was seeing some nobody.
Day by day, the rumor gained traction, solidifying into something disturbingly accurate.
Her boyfriend's name is Mok Jimyeong, he seduced her with his good looks, he begged her to recommend him into the White Tiger Squad, and so on.
'That bastard is unforgivable.'
A guy who stole the Sword Phoenix with nothing but his face.
And he was joining the White Tiger Squad without even taking the tough Yellow Dragon Exam.
He had planned to punish the insolent fool but the squad leader arrived early, putting a stop to it.
"Yes. If possible, I'd like to spar with that guy over there... the one with the 'big mole on his forehead'..."
The punk had the nerve to pick him as his sparring opponent.
'You picked the wrong guy.'
Normally, he'd be ashamed to face a warrior over ten years younger, but jealousy blinded Joo Wangpil to such concerns.
All he cared about was teaching that insolent bastard a lesson.
But just as the spar was about to begin, Mok Jimyeong suddenly raised his hand.
"Hold on a second, Squad Leader!"
Joo Wangpil was left awkwardly frozen in his stance.
'What? Scared already?'
The squad leader seemed to think the same, frowning slightly at Mok Jimyeong.
"What is it?"
"How severe are injuries allowed between sparring partners?"
Laughter rippled through the onlookers at Mok Jimyeong's question.
'Tsk tsk, worrying about getting hurt before it even starts.'
Asking that before fighting? He must be really intimidated.
In truth, the sparring rules in the Murim Alliance were straightforward.
No killing, obviously. No severing limbs or breaking bones.
No using dangerous sword qi that could graze and injure.
Of course, injuries happened in spars, but they couldn't leave permanent damage or sideline someone for over a month.
In other words, anything less was fair game.
Joo Wangpil had decided the moment Mok Jimyeong picked him.
'I'll put him in bed for a few days.'
Mok Jimyeong looked dissatisfied after hearing the rules from the squad leader.
The White Tiger Squad members watching assumed it was fear and snickered.
The brief interruption passed, and the spar resumed.
Joo Wangpil charged at Mok Jimyeong the instant it started.
Whoosh—
His massive blade came whistling down toward Mok Jimyeong's head alongside the rush of wind.
He aimed to crush him instantly, making the punk tremble at his sight from then on.
But Mok Jimyeong, still wearing a sullen expression, raised his sword to block.
'Idiot. Trying to block a blade head-on with a sword.'
Why was the sword called the king of weapons?
Because it could thrust and slash, adapting endlessly to any situation.
Yet there was a reason warriors didn't all use swords.
'Thrusts are inferior to spears, slashes to blades.'
Versatile meant no true excellence.
Especially in a direct clash, a sword could never beat a blade.
That was Joo Wangpil's common sense...
Bang!
'Urk, what the...?'
It felt like striking rock.
No—even his blade could cleave rock easily, so more like diamond.
The full-force overhead strike, weighted with his body, was effortlessly blocked by Mok Jimyeong's sword.
Mok Jimyeong kept his sullen face.
"Is this Heavy or Strong?"
Then he muttered something nonsensical.
Leaping back, Joo Wangpil forced a smirk to feign composure.
"Impressive. You've got some hidden skill."
"Hidden skill my ass... I asked if it's Heavy or Strong."
Even after clashing, he kept babbling nonsense.
Deciding to stop holding back, Joo Wangpil lunged again.
"It's Fast, you punk!"
His over-five-foot blade traced a sharp arc toward his foe's side in an instant.
But it too was lightly parried by Mok Jimyeong's slender sword.
Thud—!
"Why charge head-on again?"
Why head-on?
Was he saying to sneakily attack from behind in a spar?
Ignoring him, Joo Wangpil pressed the assault.
Scarlet Timber Blade Art.
Linked Branches.
His blade extended like branches sprouting from a tree, tracing an odd trajectory toward Mok Jimyeong.
Yet Mok Jimyeong blocked it effortlessly.
"Well now, this one looks Illusory?"
"Grit, what the hell are you babbling about?!"
He tried ignoring it, but the constant chatter grated.
Especially while lightly blocking his fierce attacks.
Finally drawing Joo Wangpil's full attention, Mok Jimyeong smirked crookedly.
"Like I was saying, Fast is..."
Habitually about to unleash Heavenly Apex Sword Art's First Flash, he hesitated.
This wasn't a life-or-death duel; he couldn't properly show it in a rule-bound spar.
'Stopping midway would be awkward too.'
With his skill, he could halt the blade right at Joo Wangpil's throat.
Ending it swiftly was one option.
But not what Mok Jimyeong wanted.
In the end, he kept his sword up and moved his lower body.
Southern Barbarian Beast Fist.
Fierce Tiger Kick.
A kick too fast to perceive struck Joo Wangpil's gut.
Mok Jimyeong had pulled back at the last moment, so it only sent him stumbling a few steps...
"Guhk..."
Perfectly hitting the solar plexus, Joo Wangpil doubled over.
"You need to move so fast your opponent can't react."
His bent waist exposed his unguarded back.
Seeing it, Mok Jimyeong tossed his sword aside.
Southern Barbarian Beast Fist.
Eagle Claw.
His elbows smashed down on Joo Wangpil's back.
Then his knee rocketed up into the bent man's face.
Crack!
Something shattered as Joo Wangpil's head snapped upward.
Blood poured from his nose.
'A broken nose bone should be fine, right?'
Treatment would take time, but no combat loss.
The squad leader watching nodded without complaint.
The White Tiger Squad members caused the real stir.
"Not bad."
"What's that fist art?"
Glancing over, Baek Iryeong was watching with gleaming eyes, clearly amused.
Mok Jimyeong flashed her a smile before charging back at Joo Wangpil.
"Urk...!"
Regaining his wits amid the nosebleed, Joo Wangpil swung his blade wildly.
As if to say, stay back.
But Mok Jimyeong ducked, easily deflecting it,
Southern Barbarian Beast Fist.
Pack of Wolves.
As he rose, his fists unleashed dozens of blows in a split second.
Pow-pow-pow-pow-pow—!
Like a pack of wolves tearing into prey.
The recoil launched Joo Wangpil airborne against gravity.
"Gaaahk..."
He dropped his blade.
His contempt shattered after mere exchanges.
His attacks did nothing; he couldn't even respond to his foe's.
Even blinded by rage, this was undeniable.
Pain wracked his body, making control impossible. Denial was futile.
This opponent was beyond his skill.
'St... strong...'
His spirit broken, Joo Wangpil looked up to concede.
"I lose..."
But before he finished, a greeting arrived: Mok Jimyeong's fist.
Southern Barbarian Beast Fist.
Black Bear.
It smashed dead-center into the large mole on his forehead.
BOOM!
The loudest impact yet.
As his body crumpled and consciousness faded, Joo Wangpil faintly heard a mutter.
"Damn, I got drawn in and hit his forehead anyway. Should've toyed with him more..."
Good thing he didn't hear it clearly.