Chapter 304
Chapter 304
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 304
Chapter Title: Hong Gyeon
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The martial tournament began the very next day.
As Dang Mujin and his group appeared near the tournament grounds, some martial artist sidled up to him slyly and struck up a conversation.
"Hello. You're the head of the Dang family, aren't you?"
"That's right."
"I'm Son Uigun, the elder of the Bongyang Son clan. Since we've crossed paths like this, it's fate—mind if we chat for a bit?"
"Sure."
That was a mistake.
More people swarmed over to talk to him faster than Dang Mujin could wrap up one conversation and send them away.
'What the hell? What's going on?'
Dang Mujin was utterly flustered.
He'd figured maybe one or two people would exchange names and that'd be it, but he hadn't expected such a crowd.
And it wasn't easy to just cut them off and leave.
Unlike seasoned clan heads, Dang Mujin was a bit clumsy when it came to this sort of thing. He had no idea how to respond or how to shake them off.
Dong, dong, dong—
As he endlessly fielded their small talk, the drum announcing the start of the tournament rang out.
Dang Mujin seized the opportunity.
"The tournament's about to begin. Let's talk again when there's time!"
He shook off the crowd as politely as he could and headed straight for the tournament grounds.
Namgung Myeong asked Dang Mujin,
"Why'd you even entertain all that pointless chatter?"
"I didn't want to. I just had no clue how to escape. Felt like what it's like to get caught in the Thirty-Six Stratagems' runaway trap."
Namgung Myeong snickered.
"Guess you didn't know how to handle it. It's basically the same as a fight, at its core."
"So how do you handle it?"
"Draw your sword first and chop down the easiest-looking guy. Everyone else'll scatter in terror. Do that next time."
"...Yeah, I was wondering why you weren't talking nonsense."
"Didn't know? All the famous clans do it that way."
It was such an obvious joke that even a fool wouldn't fall for it, so Dang Mujin responded with an insulting gesture toward Namgung Myeong.
The drumming stopped, and the tournament announcer's voice rang out.
He wasn't amplifying his voice with internal energy or anything—just a naturally loud-voiced fellow handling the proceedings.
"Ahem, we'll start the draws! All participants, gather up!"
From the vibe, though, it didn't seem like they planned to set a full bracket from the get-go. Dang Mujin pondered it.
'Makes sense. Too many entrants for that. The tournament has no restrictions except age.'
That age limit was a bit iffy too. Who was gonna check if someone was over thirty?
The registrars just eyeballing faces and passing pretty much anyone who didn't look outrageously old.
The announcer pulled wooden plaques one by one from a large box in front of him and read off the inscriptions.
"Wi Hyeoeum of the Geonyang True Dragon Sect!"
"Wi Hyeoeum! Wi Hyeoeum! Hope of the True Dragon Sect!"
"Man Gok of the Hubei Man clan!"
"Man Gok! Man Gok! Lay 'em all flat!"
Every time a name was called, acquaintances in the crowd cheered it loudly.
Most had left decent, concise self-introductions on their plaques, but some hadn't.
"The promising swordmaster who proudly claims the top spot among the Gansu Eight Swords with his lightning-fast blade, Hak Hae-dong!"
Stuffing flowery phrases before their names was still pretty normal, at least.
"Captured a tiger barehanded at twelve, then absorbed the energy of the black dragon slumbering at the bottom of the Black Dragon River, ascended to the heavens with the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord the next year, and only descended back to the mortal world two days ago..."
Someone had clearly scribbled a joke on theirs.
Even as the crowd burst into stifled laughter, the announcer read the whole thing with utmost seriousness. This kind of prank was tournament tradition, after all.
Naturally, the guy who ascended with the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord didn't show up.
Finally, twenty fighters gathered in the arena, and the announcer bellowed,
"Determine the victors! Continue until five remain! Serious injury, hitting the ground, disqualification! Using bizarre hidden weapons, disqualification!"
At his signal, the free-for-all began—twenty fighters battling until only five were left.
It was a smart setup. It weeded out the riffraff quick, and scaled up the usually boring low-level scraps with sheer numbers.
A fight's scale big enough guarantees a baseline thrill, skill level be damned.
At first, a couple of the weaker ones dropped fast, but then the fighters naturally split into two factions: a skilled few and a mediocre majority.
If the goal was one ultimate winner, they'd all gang up on the strongest first.
But with five winners? No need for the skilled ones to turn on each other.
"Uwaaa!"
"Stand still!"
The fight dragged on until victory was decided.
Four out of the five decently skilled ones—who'd formed a tacit alliance—made it through. Plus one lucky scrub from the mob.
The next group played out much the same: skilled minority versus desperate majority. The only difference? Namgung Hyeon was in it.
Namgung Hyeon didn't even mingle. At twenty-six, having broken past peak realm, the other nineteen were all equally weak to him.
Even with another peak expert among those nineteen.
No upsets in the second group. Three finalists at minimum first-rate, including the two peak masters.
Namgung Hyeon scanned the surroundings with a curt, arrogant expression, then locked eyes with Namgung Myeong.
Evidently not expecting him here, Namgung Hyeon's eyes widened like saucers. He quickly bowed and cupped his fists toward Namgung Myeong.
Dang Mujin poked Namgung Myeong in the side.
"What? He recognized you right away?"
"Same Nangong clan. Of course he did."
"What's your deal with this Namgung Hyeon guy?"
"Cousin. We hung out sometimes as kids."
He phrased it like they'd just grown apart after maturing, but really, he'd been kicked out of the clan.
Just euphemizing for the two physicians and Seolhwa.
"Cousin... so, related to Elder Namgung Jinya?"
"Not his son."
"Hmm."
Then the third group.
"...Hong Gyeon, Beggars' Sect disciple from Zhuul Village!"
Hong Geolgae's alias was finally called.
Hong Geolgae stepped into the arena empty-handed. He figured bringing his striking rod might give him away.
Dang Mujin scrutinized Hong Geolgae's face. It looked strangely unfamiliar, expression a bit stiff and unnatural, but nothing glaringly off.
'Will anyone spot who Hong Geolgae really is?'
The group watched half hoping no one would recognize him, half eager to see him humiliated if exposed.
But not only did no one recognize Hong Geolgae—no one even spared him a glance. Neither participants nor spectators.
The first time his face-changing trick actually worked.
Yang Physician whispered quietly.
"It worked, right?"
"Yes."
"Oh my!"
The two physicians were thrilled.
For someone barely sensing qi, too low-tier even for third-rate, to leave a mark on Central Plains martial world—it was moving.
Though they weren't sure if the face-changing trick had staying power.
Namgung Myeong looked quietly pleased too. A guy who'd pulled plenty of shady stunts before? He'd milk this for sure.
"Here we go."
The third match unfolded like the first two: skilled few, mediocre many.
Dang Mujin's group watched, anticipating when Hong Geolgae would show his stuff.
'How's he gonna sweep 'em?'
No rod, so no striking rod techniques. Drunk Eight Immortal Steps? Or Anti-Dragon Eighteen Palms?
But Hong Geolgae did something unexpected.
He erased his presence, hid his skill, and meekly tucked himself into a corner of the arena. Like he'd forfeited—or was too scared to join the fray.
"Why's he acting like that?"
"Who knows. He'll handle it."
His presence was so faint, fighters and spectators alike ignored him completely.
A few noticed him now and then, but lost interest fast. A two-knot beggar with no weapon? Useless in a fight, not even a hindrance.
No major incidents in his group until the end.
Five decently skilled fighters left—plus Hong Geolgae.
The group gripped their seats, watching intently.
'What's his play now?'
That's when the minor upset hit. As a first-rate-looking guy closed in to eliminate Hong Geolgae last, someone behind kicked out his ankle.
Suddenly, a solid first-rate tumbled to the ground.
The announcer shouted,
"Dujin Pung of the Bowang Sect—eliminated!"
The man called Dujin Pung looked around in bewilderment, then jumped up and yelled at the announcer.
"Me, eliminated? Why me?"
"Rolling on the ground means elimination!"
"That sneaky bastard ambushed me, you fuck!"
"Those are the rules."
Dujin Pung whirled and glared at his ambusher.
They seemed to know each other.
"You, Tak Jong-ui! What the hell?"
Tak Jong-ui smirked.
"What? Just paying back what your uncle did to my dad."
"You lunatic! That was over twenty years ago. We were snot-nosed kids!"
"A gentleman's revenge is never too late, even after twenty years."
"You prick! Whatever grudge between our uncle and your dad got settled over a decade ago. Revenge my ass!"
"You think a few glib words from that three-inch tongue wash away the shame?"
Sounds like revenge was just an excuse. Probably wanted to thin out threats before finals.
They snarled at each other viciously for a while, but whether bad blood existed between their families meant nothing to the spectators.
The crowd jeered at Dujin Pung.
"Boo, get lost! What's with the ugly tantrum?"
"Beat it!"
No way to resume the match here. Dujin Pung approached the announcer to plead his case.
"This is bullshit! Not me—that beggar in the corner! He should be out!"
"But that gentleman took no heavy wounds, didn't roll on the ground, and never surrendered."
"Does that matter? He's a non-factor! Think we left him alone 'cause we were scared of trash like that?"
Despite Dujin Pung's furious protests, the announcer didn't budge.
He knew straying from rules meant he'd eat the fallout.
So Dujin Pung switched tactics. He charged straight at Hong Geolgae. His hairy arm even reached out.
Dang Mujin expected Hong Geolgae to snap the wrist with Golden Crow Hand or whatever, but surprisingly, Hong Geolgae let himself get grabbed by the collar and hoisted up.
Looking downright tense, even.
Dujin Pung shook Hong Geolgae like a ragdoll.
"See? This guy's a joke! One punch and he's done, and this is who advances instead of me?"
"No exceptions to the rules."
"This ain't an exception! It's common sense! We hold these tournaments to pick the strong! Run it like this, and only cowards and frauds make finals!"
Dujin Pung ranted on in a rage, then flung Hong Geolgae aside.
Hong Geolgae used a subtle lightness skill to land without rolling, just propping himself up neatly.
And Dang Mujin saw it.
'That bastard's loving this.'
Hong Geolgae's eyes sparkled with ecstasy and anticipation, a sinister, utterly satisfied smile curling his lips.