Chapter 38: The Third Round is Also Fair
Honestly, I hadn't said anything particularly impressive. I'd just asked if the fight was boring and if he'd been slacking off in the Cult Leader's Palace.
But he lost it.
"I'll kill you!"
Flames seemed to drip from his eyes as he charged at me. I had no idea why, but...
'Whatever. Works for me.'
Whoosh! Beom Se-un unleashed a frenzy of attacks, and I dodged and blocked just enough to fall back step by step.
One thing I'd learned training with Sister Geum-ran: the more an opponent lost their composure, the more effective my future sight became.
'Tis obvious logic. An excited foe's vision narrows, fixating solely on attack, simplifying their movements. Thus, the futures you see dwindle sharply.'
'Yeah, figures.'
Thanks to that, I could sustain future sight while burning far less internal energy than usual. In fact, I was using more just to parry and evade his strikes.
For someone whose internal energy cultivation was still sorely lacking, even that was a real strain.
'Thou hast only just touched the Realm of Mixed Emotions. Calling thee a step below him is generous praise.'
Purely in terms of martial skill, it meant I'd barely stepped into second-rate. Without future sight and Intangible Fist, I couldn't have handled Beom Se-un at all.
So this was what happened if I slipped even a little.
'Mind thy left!'
Bam!
A searing pain flared near my shoulder, my torn sleeve fluttering wildly. Beom Se-un's fingertip had grazed it, triggering a small explosion.
Of course, the attack hadn't truly connected. My uniform had just burst open.
'Sister Geum-ran's got more sewing ahead.'
'Thou shouldst have unleashed Intangible Fist swifter!'
'That was my best. Can't burn all my energy here, right?'
With his lid completely flipped, Beom Se-un charged like a bull with its tail on fire, flailing wildly. It let me keep things even.
No—with future sight open and Extreme Heaven Nine Wheels Art poured out in one go, I could probably drop him in a single blow.
But I was holding back my energy for the next round.
'Gonna settle it in the second.'
So I needed a setup. Prep work to deliver a shocking defeat to Beom Se-un.
But since he had no clue about my intentions, he could only misread it.
"Arrogant bastard. You mocked Yong Chang-heon not long ago, huh? Now you wanna toy with me? Bring it on!"
'This tale feels oddly familiar.'
'Tell me about it.'
Beom Se-un was under the delusion that I was playing with him too. His energy surged again.
Anyway, the more he pushed, the better for me.
"You just gonna slither away like an eel forever? Come at me like a proper demon! Yong Baek-heon!"
"...".
I didn't reply or move. Instead, Beom Se-un kicked off the ground.
His form rocketed forward like an arrow with insane acceleration.
My future sight showed just one possibility.
'Charging straight like a mad bull.'
Spot on. No regard for front or back—just a one-hit kill attempt.
The power behind it was immense. But that was perfect.
'Just the opening I needed. Time to end this.'
I dropped my stance low and dove under him—the essence of Cloud Sea Phantom Step, targeting his weakness.
At the same time, I positioned Intangible Fist. My fist brimmed with Extreme Heaven Nine Wheels Art energy.
'This'll hurt.'
My target: Beom Se-un's knee. The foundation forged from a lifetime of Beom Clan body techniques.
"Wha—...!"
The moment his balance wavered, as if stepping on an invisible chopstick.
I drove my fist mercilessly—not straight on, but horizontally, like hurling a hook.
"Aaaagh!"
Snap!
Something burst with a scream echoing through the air. Beom Se-un's knee buckled at an unnatural angle, his body tumbling across the training ground floor.
If he'd been moving normally, he'd have just lost balance briefly.
But with that invisible bump underfoot... and at that blistering speed... his knee wrenched badly.
Folded in a direction it shouldn't.
Beom Se-un clutched his knee, groaning, while I withdrew my fist and stepped back three or four paces.
'Heh, looks painful.'
'Bet. Normal folks would pass out.'
'Where'dst thou learn such a trick?'
'From the thug brothers scrapping in back alleys over turf.'
'Heh, as the saying goes—one sage among every three on the road. Apt indeed.'
And so the first round ended.
Dang Cheon-gung-ma hurried over to check on Beom Se-un.
"Young Master Beom, you alright?"
"F-Fine. This is nothing..."
He gritted through the pain like a true martial artist. Fair enough—for a demon, whining over a busted knee when it wasn't even a severed limb would be embarrassing.
But as referee, Dang Cheon-gung-ma declared:
"This round goes to Young Master Yong Baek-heon!"
"Woo...!"
"Baek-heon wins."
Yong Se-ryeong and Yong Hyeon-seok nodded from afar.
Of course, Beom Se-un refused to accept it.
"What? Why? I can still fight! Great Protector! I can even stand!"
He wasn't wrong. Grimacing slightly, he rose and struck a basic stance. Plenty of energy left, too.
But Dang Cheon-gung-ma shook his head firmly.
"After you fell, Young Master Yong had ample time for a follow-up attack. But he withdrew. He judged the match decided. Isn't that right?"
Spot-on call. I nodded silently.
Had I pressed, I could've smashed his skull. But no killing blows allowed this round. To prove my edge, I'd raised my fist teasingly before pulling back.
Dang Cheon-gung-ma had seen it clear.
"Save your grievances for the next round. The duel isn't over."
"Yes..."
Score: one-zero.
A brief rest—about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense—before round two.
Beom Clan guards attended Beom Se-un's injury, while Sister Geum-ran approached me.
"Young master."
"Mm."
She treated me as Yong Baek-heon; I played along. With a peak demon like Wind God Fist Demon Beom Sang-gun present, caution was key. Such masters had absurd hearing.
"Shall I fetch a fresh uniform?"
—Ho-sam, you okay? Not hurt?
"Nah. I'm starving—bring some food."
—No injuries. But seriously hungry.
"...Understood. I'll bring a snack."
We exchanged true thoughts via sound transmission.
I popped a dumpling from Sister Geum-ran into my mouth, eyeing Beom Se-un casually.
Seeing me munch away so calmly, his face twisted in disbelief—then flushed red again.
He thought I was provoking him once more.
'Odd. Beom Clan blood excels in body arts and the advanced heart method Intent-Eye-Consideration Heart Art, steadying the mind. Did he sleep through it?'
'Goes to show.'
Even back-alley thieves prized a clear mirror, still waters mind. Panting atop a beam? Busted.
Old thieves preached calming the heart always.
'Learning martial arts shows how vital that is.'
I shoveled the last dumpling and stood.
Dang Cheon-gung-ma was climbing back onto the field.
"Round two begins. As discussed, we'll use Young Master Yong Baek-heon's proposed rule."
The Great Protector's gaze turned to me: name your rule.
I spoke slowly.
"This round..."
* * *
It throbbed like his knee had been torn off.
Beom Se-un focused internal energy there to suppress the pain and desperately calmed his mind.
'This is nothing. I can do it. He'll challenge to swordplay anyway.'
The Beom Clan's pride was fist-palm-finger techniques, but they weren't sword-illiterate. Like other clans, they wielded various weapons.
Especially masterful with the serrated sawtooth blade sword style.
'If I lose this round, it's over. I'll go all-out. No big movements needed for sawtooth swordplay.'
One more thing: even feigning a mistake, he'd inflict a major wound on Yong Baek-heon.
If defeat loomed, pave the way for the next challenger. His father's quiet order.
"This round..."
Yong Baek-heon opened his mouth calmly. Ignoring the knee pain, Beom Se-un glared.
'Fine. Swordplay's your forte? You'll bleed eventually.'
But the next words left him gaping.
"This round will be a lightness skill contest."
...What?
Lightness skill contest?
Everyone doubted their ears.
But Jang Ho-sam continued nonchalantly.
"Have one Protector stand at the field's end. Place an apple atop their head. We start from the same line; first to claim the apple wins."
"What kind of—!"
"Attacks on the opponent forbidden, of course. Pure lightness skill."
His voice carried a sly amusement. Sensing dire peril, Beom Se-un jumped in.
"No! That's absurd!"
"Huh? Why not? Problem with my rule?"
"Plenty! Obviously!"
Jang Ho-sam shrugged, stepping back—as if to say, speak your piece.
Beom Se-un pleaded with his eyes at Dang Cheon-gung-ma.
"Great Protector, you know my knee's injured! Lightness skill now? This is one-sidedly unfair!"
"...".
"Great Protector!"
"Listen, Young Master Beom."
Dang Cheon-gung-ma Yo Wi-deok sighed deeply. He eyed the cornered young demon simply.
"What are the rules?"
A weighty question conveying his will.
Beom Se-un squeezed out a last desperate cry.
"Rules must be fair, right? But this!"
"They are fair. First round, second round."
"...!"
"Win this, and the third will be fair too. Understand?"
No whining.
Beom Se-un bowed his head and retreated.
Dang Cheon-gung-ma signaled his men. A Protector fetched a ripe apple, placed it atop his head, and stood.
"Both young masters, line up. When my dropped dagger hits the ground, begin. Move early, and it's a warning..."
He detailed round two's rules.
But it fell on deaf ears for Beom Se-un. His knee couldn't handle lightness skill.
The outcome was simple.
"Easy."
"...".
Jang Ho-sam plucked the apple lightly and turned to his foe.