Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: The Nine Dragons Tournament (1)
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Purple Mist Sword God Chapter 12
The Nine Dragons Tournament (1)
“What in the world is he saying is easy?”
“Is he showing off just because he beat the measly Three Evils of Shaanxi?”
Perhaps it was the jealousy of youth.
The rising generation from the small and medium-sized sects within Shaanxi quietly directed their bitter comments at Ouyang Jue.
But Ouyang Jue, the target of their ire, was nonchalantly fanning away the heat.
*Cute, the little brats.*
If they’d just admit they were envious, he might understand.
But picking a fight over nothing, trying to provoke a duel, was utterly laughable to Ouyang Jue.
*These simpletons have never even fought a life-and-death duel. With mouths like that, they could probably talk their way to victory against a legend.*
Ouyang Jue, half-reclined on a flat rock, let out a smirk and then a long yawn.
“Haaah.”
Teasing these young bloods was gradually becoming boring.
How much longer did he have to suffer under this scorching sun?
Ouyang Jue glared fiercely at the Wudang Sect's master, the Master of the Profound Sword, who was in the middle of a speech.
“When will this end?”
No matter how quietly Ouyang Jue spoke, there was no way the Master of the Profound Sword wouldn't hear him.
But he steadfastly continued with his speech.
“...Therefore, I hope this Nine Dragons Tournament will be an opportunity not only for the sects of Shaanxi but for all Taoist sects to come together in harmony, to compete and grow with one another, and to reflect on the meaning of mutual prosperity.”
At those words, Ouyang Jue let out an involuntary scoff.
A memory from his past life surfaced.
*Mutual prosperity, my ass.*
It was the Martial Alliance all over again.
Whether they gathered for a Taoist Assembly or anything else, it was always just a conference of old geezers spitting saliva to protect their own interests.
In reality, when the Mount Hua Sect was on the verge of annihilation, what did the other so-called Taoist sects do?
What about the Shaolin Temple, the pillar of the martial world, which was right nearby?
*It's all a pointless charade.*
Ouyang Jue yawned widely once more.
In the martial world, you're ultimately on your own.
At best, it's you and your sect.
Even if you were close, pretending not to know someone when they were in danger could be called a tradition of the martial world.
So why bother trying to get close to anyone?
*I have no desire to get friendly with people I don't even like, especially if it means telling pointless lies.*
He would rather curse them out; Ouyang Jue had no desire to praise others with gutless lies.
It was better to spend that time building strength, washing his feet, and sleeping to grow taller.
And so, Ouyang Jue immediately shifted his half-reclined posture to a more comfortable one.
“Hwaaahm...”
Was that the third yawn?
Seeing Ouyang Jue fidgeting, on the verge of lying down completely, the people around him began to whisper.
“Th-that's...”
“How can he be so rude with the Master of the Profound Sword right in front of him!”
*'Who do you think you are, acting so arrogant in front of a grand senior from Wudang?' Is that what they're thinking?*
He knew from the start that the fledglings, full of ambition, wouldn't like him, given the reputation he'd arrived with.
However, neither the Master of the Profound Sword himself nor Yeop Cheong from the Wudang Sect showed any sign of displeasure.
A true martial artist should be like that.
There was no need to cause a fight over a pointless war of words or a clash of personalities.
Considering the mental energy they'd need for the Nine Dragons Tournament, they should be conserving it from now.
Ouyang Jue clicked his tongue and looked at the hot-blooded members of the rising generation.
“We're all bound to cross swords eventually, so you should tone it down.”
“...”
At his words, the rising generation shut their mouths like they'd been struck dumb.
They might be inexperienced fledglings, but each was a promising bud, handpicked and sent by their respective sects.
If they couldn't understand after he'd said this much, they might as well pack their bags and go home now.
Besides, if anyone actually did try to pick a fight, Ouyang Jue was more than willing to accept.
*What a waste of time.*
If the prize on the line wasn't Severing Manifestation, he'd have no reason to be part of this childish talent show.
He'd thought that by coming here, he might find someone worth fighting, but that wasn't the case either.
*They didn't even send out the ones who could be called their sects' secret weapons. Sly old foxes.*
In Ouyang Jue's eyes, the Nine Dragons Tournament seemed to be a competition between the number twos of the rising generation from each sect, not the number ones.
In that case, one question naturally arose.
*I don't understand why they'd offer Severing Manifestation as a prize for a competition of this level.*
Every swordsman seeks a famed sword.
It was a desire that transcended age, whether young or old.
If there was a sword that could make their swordsmanship even a little stronger, they would invest a great deal of time to obtain it.
It was practically a martial artist's instinct.
The Wudang Sect was a school skilled not only in fist arts but also in movement techniques and sword arts.
They were not so lacking in foresight as to fail to recognize the value of Severing Manifestation.
Then, Ouyang Jue's questioning gaze fell upon a certain man.
*Yeop Cheong of the Wudang Sect... he, at least, is worthy of being called Wudang's number one.*
From the aura he exuded even from a distance, one could feel his strength.
He would surely be the one to stand in his way at the end of the tournament.
Sensing this destiny, Ouyang Jue sat cross-legged on the rock and began to cultivate his Purple Mist True Energy.
“...Huuuuu.”
His inhale was shallow, but as Ouyang Jue exhaled, a mass of impurities that had accumulated in his body poured out.
Among them was a toxic energy, causing a Taoist who had been listening intently to the Master of the Profound Sword's speech to cover his nose and move away.
*Damn it, anyone who saw that would think I don't bathe.*
Cursing lightly under his breath, Ouyang Jue used his Purple Mist True Energy to expel all the remaining toxins from his body.
It must be the neurotoxin injected into him while he was fighting the Severed Madman.
Ouyang Jue's expression soured in an instant.
“It stings like hell.”
Finally, Ouyang Jue took off his wooden clogs and expelled the neurotoxin, mixed with his sweat.
Seeing this, the Master of the Profound Sword raised an eyebrow slightly.
*'I heard from the Beggars' Sect that he defeated the Three Evils of Shaanxi, but to think he was afflicted with a neurotoxin and still arrived here on time.'*
His method of expelling the poison was particularly clever.
The Master of the Profound Sword unconsciously stroked his beard and looked up at the sun high in the sky.
*'To think he'd use the hot summer weather to expel the poison through his sweat.'*
He might not be much now, but in five or six years, he would surely grow into a remarkable Taoist.
Lost in thought, the Master of the Profound Sword suddenly noticed the silence around him and looked around.
Everyone's gaze was fixed on him.
Only then did the Master of the Profound Sword realize he had stopped speaking.
“...I hope this Nine Dragons Tournament serves as an opportunity for all the Taoist sects of Shaanxi and all the participating members of the rising generation to advance even further. Thank you.”
And so, he unintentionally ended his congratulatory speech early.
***
Just then, on the way to the tournament grounds where the Nine Dragons Tournament was to begin.
Ouyang Jue frowned at the man blocking his path.
“Please step aside.”
“You were quite impressive earlier.”
Ouyang Jue made a "Pfft" sound, showing his annoyance.
“So, what is it?”
“...I think I'm older than you.”
At those words, Ouyang Jue felt a stifling frustration, as if he'd eaten a dry sweet potato.
*Can't fellow Taoists even talk freely with each other?*
Perhaps because of that, his next words were rather thorny.
The idea that he had to speak formally just because the other man was older, despite both being of the rising generation, was irritating.
“Fellow Taoist, you are the one who has blocked my path without so much as introducing yourself.”
“Ah, that's true.”
Finally realizing his own rudeness, the man scratched the back of his head and spoke.
“I am Yang Ji-hyeon of the Kongtong Sect.”
“I am Ouyang Jue of the Mount Hua Sect. Excuse me, but may I ask you something?”
*He says 'excuse me,' but he's coming on way too naturally.*
Yang Ji-hyeon felt like he was being led around by the nose.
“Well, if it's something I can answer, go ahead.”
“Are your eyes naturally squinted like that? Or have you trained in some kind of ocular arts?”
His tone was a mix of playfulness and irritation.
But at that question, Yang Ji-hyeon's face stiffened slightly.
He had been half-joking, but Yang Ji-hyeon's reaction took Ouyang Jue by surprise.
It was practically an answer without words.
*Should I pretend I didn't see that expression?*
Perhaps seeing Ouyang Jue's awkward expression, Yang Ji-hyeon also sensed something.
He let out a deep sigh.
“What's the point in hiding it? It's a simple ocular art I learned to make up for my lack of talent. It's nothing special.”
“...'Nothing special,' you say.”
Ouyang Jue mulled over Yang Ji-hyeon's words.
*Usually, martial artists who are needlessly humble or have squinted eyes are quite strong.*
Yang Ji-hyeon met both criteria.
In that case, he needed to size up his opponent.
Ouyang Jue carefully drew up his internal energy and activated his Radiant Eye.
“What business do you have with me?”
“I wanted to get to know you.”
“Among the second-generation disciples of the Kongtong Sect, where do you rank in strength, Fellow Taoist Yang?”
“...At best, somewhere in the middle, I suppose.”
So far, these were questions anyone with a friendly disposition could easily answer.
Ouyang Jue decided to ask a question that someone with decent ocular arts would be compelled to resist, thus not falling for the Radiant Eye.
“Do you tend to have your bowel movements in the morning?”
“Th-that is...”
As Yang Ji-hyeon seemed at a loss for words, Ouyang Jue was inwardly impressed.
*'To be able to resist the Radiant Eye, he must be quite skilled...'*
Just as Ouyang Jue was about to revise his assessment, Yang Ji-hyeon spoke.
“I haven't been able to go much lately.”
“...I wish you a speedy recovery.”
With that, Ouyang Jue subtly sidestepped Yang Ji-hyeon.
Left alone, Yang Ji-hyeon clutched his head.
“Why did I say that!”
Thanks to a beggar lurking nearby, Yang Ji-hyeon's moniker came to be known as the "Constipation Fist."
A moment later.
Ouyang Jue was held up by yet another martial artist.
Feeling weary, Ouyang Jue sighed.
“This must be why they say being popular is tiring.”
“Insolent!”
*Grind!*
The face of the martial artist, who said he was from the Peaceful Sword Sect, was drenched in displeasure.
“You may be a disciple of Mount Hua, but you've gone too far!”
“Gone too far? So, what did you stop me to say?”
“That's obviously about what happened just now...”
“Look here.”
Ouyang Jue cut the martial artist off, the corner of his mouth curling up.
“Neither the Master of the Profound Sword nor Fellow Taoist Yeop Cheong from Wudang said a word to me. Isn't it you, my fellow practitioner, who is overreacting?”
“...”
“Why don't you just say it? That it infuriates you to see someone who looks weak gain fame.”
At those words, the martial artist's gaze changed as if he were dumbfounded.
“Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?”
But the martial artist couldn't completely deny Ouyang Jue's words.
The hostility he felt toward Ouyang Jue certainly included resentment.
*'There's no way Ouyang Jue, who was said to have not only terrible martial talent but also the personality of a thug, could have defeated the Three Evils of Shaanxi!'*
Perhaps some eccentric master passing through Shaanxi took care of them, and the Beggars' Sect mistakenly spread a strange rumor.
In that case, it would be best for him, the next rising star of the Peaceful Sword Sect, to step forward and clear up the misunderstanding.
The martial artist took an opening stance for fist arts, not his specialty, the sword.
“I, Jin Mo, request a duel with Fellow Taoist Ouyang.”
“Oh, for real.”
Ouyang Jue's cheek twitched.
There was no need to be nice to someone like this.
“A duel over one little comment? Seriously, I'm speechless. Whether you're from the righteous sects or the unorthodox ones, you're all villains at heart, just without the drawn swords.”
“Hey! How dare you insult my sect by comparing us to the unorthodox factions in a place like this!”
The martial artist roared with anger, but inwardly, he smiled with satisfaction.
*'He's trying to avoid a duel. I knew I was right.'*
That satisfaction was shattered to pieces by the words that followed.
“Draw your sword.”
“...Hm?”
“Draw it while I'm still asking nicely. I don't want to see you acting all high and mighty later, spouting nonsense about how you weren't using your real skills.”
Seeing Ouyang Jue's genuinely annoyed expression, the martial artist became truly enraged.
“Fine. I'll make you regret your arrogance!”
“Enough talk. Come on.”
Ouyang Jue clasped one hand behind his back and beckoned to the martial artist with his remaining right hand.
“I'll teach you that even among the rising generation, there are different levels.”
“Hah!”
A roar erupted from the martial artist's mouth as a great wave of internal energy enveloped his entire body.
Watching this, Ouyang Jue furrowed one brow.
Just by seeing that, he could roughly guess the martial artist's history.
*'He must have consumed some elixirs since he was young, and probably underwent Marrow Cleansing. The guy practically reeks of medicine.'*
Of course, that wasn't a bad thing.
How could one consider it unfair for a sect to pour its wealth and power into its disciples?
But the martial artist had made a grave mistake.
It was a mistake made because he had gone through that process, because he was no different from a hothouse flower that had never experienced real violence.
*'You should have sized up your opponent before charging in.'*
Members of the rising generation who had been coddled their whole lives were bound to make such mistakes.
Instead of gauging their opponent's skill, they would arrogantly assume the other person was a step below them.
Just then, the martial artist, who had drawn his sword, spoke.
“Don't hold it against me if you get hurt by my hand. This is just a personal duel between fellow Taoists.”
*'Such pointless worries.'*
A strange smile appeared on Ouyang Jue's face.
“You've drawn your sword, so come at me. What are you waiting for?”
***
Meanwhile, at the tournament grounds on the outskirts of Mount Wudang.
The members of the rising generation were warming up, and the Taoists of Wudang were preparing for the Nine Dragons Tournament.
Among them, the most conspicuous master was, of course, the Master of the Profound Sword...
His expression was dark.
“Has the participation rate for the Nine Dragons Tournament ever been this low?”
The Master of the Profound Sword counted the number of rising generation members preparing for the duels.
The number was far too low, much less than had been promised.
It wasn't just one or two missing; more than ten were absent.
It wasn't a number that could be explained away by them simply getting lost.
*'I personally don't like it, but...'*
He needed to look into what had happened.
Most of the missing individuals were from small and medium-sized sects, which were like local magnates, wielding considerable influence in their respective regions.
As such, they frequently exchanged messages via carrier pigeons.
There were even sects that were connected by marriage.
Therefore, major sects like Wudang and Kongtong could not simply ignore the alliance of smaller sects.
They needed to at least present a united front, showing they were allies.
That was why the Nine Dragons Tournament was created.
It was an event where, like nine dragons tangling to determine superiority, major and minor sects competed without distinction.
As the Master of the Profound Sword thought about the various aspects of the smaller sects, a disquieting thought occurred to him.
“Could it be?”
For example, they might have schemed to crush one of the top contenders to make it easier for them to win the tournament.
Considering the political tendencies of the local magnates that formed their foundation, it wasn't entirely impossible.
Hoping he was wrong, the Master of the Profound Sword immediately fastened his sword to his belt.
Just as he was about to enter the forest, a man appeared.
“There's no need for that.”
The Master of the Profound Sword was greatly surprised to see the man's appearance.
Because the man was the very contender he had been thinking of.
*'Judging by the wrinkles on his clothes, they certainly weren't formed naturally... but for someone who has been fighting, his complexion is too clean.'*
Not even a single common bead of sweat was on his face.
As if he had just come out for a stroll, the Master of the Profound Sword barely managed to recall the man's name.
“...You're Ouyang Jue of Mount Hua, aren't you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know the whereabouts of the other members of the rising generation?”
At that, Ouyang Jue shrugged.
“They said they were feeling unwell and went back.”
“Went back?”
“Yes. It seems they were too nervous before the Nine Dragons Tournament.”
As Ouyang Jue joked nonchalantly, the Master of the Profound Sword let out a small chuckle.
*'It seems they tried to eliminate this junior midway and failed.'*
He was quite pleased that the rising generation from the smaller sects had been excluded from the Nine Dragons Tournament.
A playful look appeared on the Master of the Profound Sword's face.
“You wouldn't be telling a lie, would you?”
“Of course not. Who would I dare lie to?”
Ouyang Jue's smooth and slick demeanor reminded the Master of the Profound Sword of an old acquaintance.
“Haha, the way you talk reminds me of him in his younger days.”
“Who are you talking about?”
Seeing that Ouyang Jue genuinely didn't seem to know, the Master of the Profound Sword shook his head.
“That Jin fellow should still be at Mount Hua...?”
“A Jin?”
Ouyang Jue wracked his brain for every Taoist he knew, but he couldn't think of anyone with the surname Jin that the Master of the Profound Sword would know.
Seeing this, the Master of the Profound Sword gave a bitter smile.
“You don't know? Then again... that fellow's personality is so prickly.”
“What is his name?”
“Never mind. If you don't know him, it seems he doesn't wish to reveal himself.”
The Master of the Profound Sword seemed somewhat reluctant to even mention the person.
“If that fellow takes an interest in you, Fellow Taoist, he'll be the one to make contact.”
Leaving Ouyang Jue with a new question, he stepped onto the center of the tournament grounds and shouted.
“Let the tournament begin!”
With that single phrase, the curtain rose on the Nine Dragons Tournament.