Extreme Sword Dragon (3)
Those who had confirmed their numbers began setting their chairs down one by one and taking their seats. The man on the platform gestured toward the back, and the two attendants who had assigned the rooms earlier rushed out. One carried a roster, the other a brush. They split to either side and asked every person holding a chair for their number.
“Pacheon Sword Sect, Jin Sowoon. Number nine.”
“Confirmed.”
The attendant kept his eyes lowered, answered curtly, scribbled something in the roster, then moved on to the next person, his brush flying busily across the page. After roughly fifteen minutes, they finished cross-checking the lists and began affixing pairs of names and sects to the wall behind the platform.
Thirty-two matchups in total. Everyone turned at once, scanning the papers for their own name.
“...Zhongnan Sect. Lee Young-jin.”
His opponent was a first-generation disciple from the Zhongnan Sect, one of the pillars of the Nine Great Schools. Not a bad draw. If he had been in perfect condition it might have been different, but given his injury, this was ideal. In a real spar, an unexpected variable could easily tear his wound open again. Better to face a strong opponent early and get it over with.
Jin Sowoon took a sip of the tea on the table and refocused on the man atop the platform.
“The Dragon and Phoenix Gathering opens tomorrow at the hour of the snake—nine in the morning. Please arrive at the arena at least fifteen minutes early. I hope you all enjoy your meal.”
The man stepped down from the platform, closed the door behind him without another word, and left. The attendants who had posted the matchups peeled the papers from the wall and followed him out.
For a moment the room was quiet, everyone stealing glances at one another—trying to figure out where their opponent was from, what they looked like, who they were. Curious himself, Jin Sowoon turned his head. The Zhongnan Sect’s uniform had a few distinctive features, after all.
As expected, he spotted Lee Young-jin almost immediately. The man wore a pale yellow-white uniform with white sleeves. His eyes were narrow and slanted like a rat’s, and the sword at his waist looked heavy. A proper heavy blade.
Having confirmed his opponent, there was nothing left to do. Jin Sowoon was just turning his attention to the food laid out before him when his eyes met Lee Young-jin’s. The man had noticed him too.
They stared at each other for a moment. Jin Sowoon offered a small nod first, then looked away.
Not long after, he felt gazes converging on him from every direction. Someone was approaching from the side. When he looked up, he understood why.
Lee Young-jin, his opponent for tomorrow and a disciple of the Zhongnan Sect, was walking straight toward him. He was the first person in the hall to personally seek out his match.
“Nice to meet you. You are Jin Sowoon, correct?”
“That’s right. You’re my opponent tomorrow? Nice to meet you too.”
It felt rude to stay seated while answering, so Jin Sowoon stood. Despite his own height, the age gap made him look slightly up at the other boy—just as he had with the Azure Dragon and the Poison Dragon.
Lee Young-jin asked, “Pardon me, but how old are you this year?”
“Ten.”
The hall buzzed. When Jin Sowoon glanced over, he saw the Azure Dragon and Poison Dragon grinning at each other, clearly amused by the reaction.
Lee Young-jin looked momentarily flustered that his opponent was far younger than expected, but he quickly smiled. “Only ten years old, yet already at the Peak Realm. Truly impressive. So the rumors were true—you’re the famous Sword Prodigy.”
The praise sounded sincere. But Jin Sowoon could feel the unspoken words lurking behind it.
Sure enough, Lee Young-jin continued. “...I have one suggestion.”
A suggestion?
“Would you consider forfeiting the match?”
It was such an absurd proposal that Jin Sowoon nearly laughed. Who would accept that after traveling all this way? It wasn’t as if he faced an overwhelmingly superior foe. Accepting would be strange. Lee Young-jin had to know that, which made the reason behind the request even harder to guess.
“There are many reasons for such a suggestion. For one, you’re very young, so you probably lack experience.”
It was a reasonable enough assumption for a normal person. But it was flimsy, and it didn’t apply to Jin Sowoon at all.
“You also appear to be injured.”
How had he noticed? The answer became obvious when Jin Sowoon followed the man’s gaze to his own shoulder. In his rush to dress, the bandages weren’t fully covered. The injury was far more convincing than the first reason. Still, it didn’t move him. He was about to thank the boy for his concern and end the conversation.
But Lee Young-jin wasn’t finished.
“Most of all—”
He smiled.
“—the gap in skill between us is rather large, isn’t it?”
The smile was downright oily. Every trace of the earlier politeness had been fake. It reminded Jin Sowoon of someone from a year ago—rude, unpleasant, and utterly repulsive.
“I am a warrior who will carry the future of the great Zhongnan Sect. I have even inherited our ultimate technique, the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven. You, on the other hand, are merely someone from a third-rate sect with no real foundation.”
Snickers broke out around the room. Jin Sowoon glanced over. Most of those laughing wore luxurious uniforms—children of major sects and prestigious families. Those who stayed silent either had better manners or belonged to smaller sects.
“Sword Prodigy? Please. No matter what tricks a rootless little sect teaches you, you cannot defeat me, heir to the sword lineage of Zhongnan, which upholds the righteous path of the murim.”
He had already declared victory without even crossing blades.
“And even if you somehow win, what would you gain? What was your sect called again? If you beat me, the entire Zhongnan Sect’s attention will fall on your little backwater. Do you think you can handle that?”
In plain terms, he was saying a lowly sect had no right to defeat a prestigious one like the Nine Great Schools—and if they did, he would make sure to crush them anyway.
Arrogant. Presumptuous. Conceited. Rude.
But different from the bastard from a year ago. That one had no supporters, no manners, and his words had been pure delusion. This one had supporters. He kept up appearances. His claims were coldly realistic.
The only problem was that such words should never leave the mouth of someone who claimed to stand on the side of the righteous path.
Even if it was true, it should never be spoken so brazenly. Especially not if the only purpose was amusement.
For a moment, Jin Sowoon wondered where he had seen that exact face before. Countless memories from his previous life flickered across it—the hypocrites of the murim who, even while dying, never understood that the luxuries they enjoyed were built on someone else’s blood and tears. They were no different.
The bandits who roamed dozens of mountains, forming their own gangs of the Seventy-two Green Forest Strongholds, plundering and trampling others for fun. They were no different either.
“Where is the Zhongnan Sect?” Jin Sowoon asked, as if he genuinely didn’t know.
Lee Young-jin let out a short laugh. “It is the sword sect that represents Shaanxi. You dare appear in the murim without even knowing that?”
“Now I know even less.” Jin Sowoon deliberately tilted his head. “The Zhongnan I know isn’t this rude or filthy. Besides, I thought the sword sect representing Shaanxi was the Mount Hua Sect.”
He had only mocked the boy a little, but Lee Young-jin’s face twisted violently. Most disciples of prestigious sects had no idea what real humiliation felt like.
“Pfft—”
Someone laughed. A few others joined in. The same ones who had laughed earlier. They weren’t taking anyone’s side; they were simply enjoying the entertainment. They couldn’t even sympathize. In their minds, they lived in an entirely different world from people like Jin Sowoon. They would probably never realize otherwise until the day they died.
“Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven?”
It was a thought Jin Sowoon had deliberately set aside. With the monstrous evil known as the Heavenly Demon before him, he had no leisure to deal with smaller evils. Since he himself had once been evil, he still wrestled with whether he even had the right to judge them.
“The heavy defensive sword that divides the world into thirty-six pieces and blocks every single one?”
Even so, he had never once considered avoiding this confrontation.
“It does sound impressive.”
His tone had turned mocking, provocative. All pretense of politeness had vanished from his voice.
“But from what I can see, it doesn’t seem all that great. If trash like you can spout its name so easily, maybe it’s just flashy on the outside and hollow within?”
Just as Lee Young-jin had put on an act while approaching him, Jin Sowoon now exaggerated his own gestures, speaking as if he truly believed every word.
“I’m curious. If I beat you tomorrow, what exactly will happen?”
He took one step forward, bringing his face close enough to feel the other boy’s breath. All traces of laughter disappeared as he warned in a low voice.
“You had better show up tomorrow.”
Having opened his mouth and raised the stakes this far, collapsing now would be ridiculous.
“I’ll finish you in three seconds.”
The entire hall had fallen silent, every eye fixed on him. Before them all, Jin Sowoon proudly declared his coming victory.