Dragon-Phoenix Martial Assembly (1)
The reason I was so perplexed.
It was because that incident happened when Maehwa Geom-su hosted the second day of the assembly.
A warrior on the sparring platform had unleashed a burst of sword qi that flew straight toward the spectators.
Of course, the Murim Alliance used formations to protect the audience.
It was an array crafted long ago by a genius of the Jegal family, designed to block attacks from bouncing out into the designated space.
That was why spectators could watch from seats so close to the action.
But at the time, something had gone wrong, and the warrior's sword qi had flown unimpeded toward the crowd.
The nearby experts had rushed to block it in a panic, but it was all too sudden—they couldn't prevent casualties.
And the bigger problem? Those seats were the priciest ones, the jade seats.
Worried about a plunge in sales for those spots, the Murim Alliance had clamped down on information about it.
So no one knew exactly which seats they were.
I glanced at my mother.
In my previous life, she hadn't attended the Dragon-Phoenix Martial Assembly around this time.
She'd been quite regretful about missing Hyang-ok's performance.
In any case, there was a real chance that attack could injure her.
The best solution would be to prevent the attack altogether, but even the Jegal array couldn't stop it.
I couldn't exactly keep the participants of that match off the platform either.
They had their own dreams of glory riding on it, after all.
Even if it meant one promising warrior had to hang up his sword over the fallout.
Still, the surest way to avert that tragedy, no matter how I racked my brain... was just one.
Keep watch and step in swiftly to block it.
It might expose my skills to the world, but there was no helping it.
I couldn't tip off my escort guards in advance about something like this.
If it veered toward me, they might react and block it, but if it headed elsewhere, no one but me—who knew to prepare—could stop it.
Plus, I'd already braced for exposure ever since the North Sea Ice Palace Lord had revealed a glimpse of my abilities.
Still, I should probably give my master a heads-up beforehand...
Well, this pretty much locked in watching the assembly with Mother.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Thoom!
With a resounding drumbeat, the preliminaries began.
The first matchup pitted a scion of a minor martial clan against one from a small sect.
Come to think of it, the Dragon-Phoenix Martial Assembly had strict eligibility rules.
First, no disqualifying criminal records that would bar employment by the Murim Alliance.
It was a bit vague, but basically, as long as you weren't a notorious public enemy, a Sapa fiend, or a black path rogue, you could enter.
And most crucially, age: only those under thirty by household registry.
As the two clashed blades in a real-steel duel, Mother's eyes sparkled, along with those of the Madam of Gwangjun Merchant Group.
"There—if he moves like that, it'll tangle his footwork..."
"Such a pity. Just a bit quicker judgment, and he'd have had it."
"Oh! That strike leaves him open to a counter... Ah!"
They offered commentary left and right, and I was a little surprised at how sharp their insights were.
Every word rang true.
But... had Mother always had such an eye for this?
How had I never noticed in my previous life?
I let out a wry internal chuckle soon enough.
Back then, I hadn't paid her much mind, so of course I wouldn't have known.
I'd always known she had talent for martial arts.
But it had been vague knowledge at best. Saving my own skin came first.
After the Black-Red Thread Immortal saved my life, I'd been too busy running the merchant group.
I recalled her delighted expression when I'd gifted her that Linked Sword from Luoyang last time.
I'd hoped she'd never give up on her dreams... but I'd forgotten again.
That she, too, had once been a warrior dreaming of the Murim.
Almost regretted it all over.
"Victory to Ye-ryun Sect's Young Jun!"
"Woooaaah!"
The bout had ended before I knew it.
"We will now begin the next match!"
Two more warriors mounted the platform, and with the drum's thrum, another duel commenced.
The preliminaries alone would drag on for over a fortnight.
With countless warriors flooding in from across the empire, everyone had to fight at least once.
Only when 108 remained would the main rounds begin.
Thus, the assembly ran from early September through early October—a full month.
In my view, winning the Dragon-Phoenix required not just overwhelming might, but draw luck too.
Participants gathered each morning to draw wooden lots from a box, setting the order.
Miss your draw? Automatic elimination.
Reserves would then draw instead.
Bad luck meant facing a powerhouse early and crashing out; good luck could carry you to the mains as a rising star.
Some griped about the unfairness, but the Alliance's stance was firm: luck is skill.
Couldn't argue there.
Surviving the Murim demanded luck.
Or strength enough to forge your own.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The first day's prelims wrapped up just before darkness fell.
I escorted Mother back to the inn, then headed out again to check the Eunhae Merchant Group's temporary shop sales.
"Great work today, everyone."
"No need for such words, young master."
I encouraged Yoon the steward and the staff, then reviewed the day's earnings report.
Solid performance.
"As expected, premium teas sold the most."
"Yes. The real matches haven't heated up yet—perfect for chatting over a cup, no?"
"Fair point."
Higher rounds brought fiercer emotions and wariness, leaving little room for casual talk.
You could sip tea at inns or teahouses, sure.
But they'd be mobbed with merchants this season.
Forced to the inns, then—and those rarely catered to Murim folk's refined palates.
Tea absorbed ambient moisture and odors easily, making it tricky to manage.
Many balked at the mass-brewed stuff inns served.
Even personal leaves brought to Luoyang lost flavor fast, so locals bought fresh.
And Murim types were paranoid by nature.
Hence, plenty preferred buying quality leaves themselves and brewing—our temporary shop's teas flew off the shelves.
"Medicinals should pick up soon."
"Yeah, they'll surge."
"Keep up the good work."
"Wouldn't dream otherwise."
En route back to the inn, I sensed a familiar aura.
This energy...
Where had I felt it before?
"Baek-a Sohyeop. This won't do."
I smiled.
The familiar voice clued me in.
But its sharp edge suggested trouble.
I quickened my pace toward the sound.
In a tavern, Jegal Yua stood face-to-face with a young man.
Long time no see, but she looked unchanged from the Peerless Jade Maiden of my past life.
Cold expression and all.
She hadn't been this frosty before.
She addressed him icily.
"Rigging matches like this is utterly pointless."
Huh?
What's that about?
"Buying victories with coin? I can't abide it."
"But it helps them too. They need the money, not the win."
Ah...
Their words jogged my memory. The Dragon-Phoenix had one corruption: buying wins, or Mae-seung.
With participant lists posted the day before prelims, it was ripe for fixes.
Approach early: "Lose to me if we draw, and the payout's yours."
Mostly fame-hungry scions of prestigious houses—until it blew up.
The Murim had erupted.
They claimed it was to meet family expectations.
The clans feigned ignorance...
Yeah, right.
They'd turned a blind eye.
Good results? No harm to the house.
The corruption had already begun.
Jegal Yua stormed out, eyes widening at the sight of me.
"Long time no see."
"Eh? Eun Sohyeop?"
Her eyes curved into a gentle smile, cheeks blooming.
Impression totally transformed—like a different person.
"What brings you here?"
"Dragon-Phoenix. Various merchant groups set up pop-ups for the event."
"Right—you're from a trading house."
"Yes."
"What a surprise! I'm thrilled, honestly. I've wanted to see you."
She continued.
"You're our house's benefactor."
"I'm grateful you still remember."
I clasped my hands in a po-gwan.
"Heard from Steward Yu—you left the Dragon Patrol. When'd you return?"
"Just recently. And I was officially added to the Jegal family registry."
Entering the Jegal registry.
Meant full recognition as a clan member.
"Congratulations."
"Thanks to you. Without you, I'd have nowhere to return."
"That's just speculation."
I demurred, but in truth, my past life proved her right.
She'd lost her place—and her smile.
Not this time.
She'd completed the Dragon Patrol and returned a proper Jegal.
Smiling, she said.
"No speculation. Anyway, so glad to see you. Come with me! Grandpa will be overjoyed."
The Jegal Supreme Patriarch was here too, then.
But I shook my head gently.
"Miss, it's late. And tomorrow's your prelim, right?"
"Yes, prelims tomorrow."
"Then rest up. No sleep means no peak performance."
She touched her cheeks.
"Worried about me?"
I chuckled.
"Yes. So seeing the Patriarch can wait till tomorrow..."
Then I noticed: no one around her.
"Miss, no escorts with you?"
"They came, but I sent them back—the gathering was dragging."
"With the heirs of Murim notables, I take it."
"Sort of. If I'd known the intent, I wouldn't have gone. Just soiled my ears."
She grumbled, then startled—realizing I was there.
"A Mae-seung setup."
"...You know of Mae-seung?"
"Yes. Merchants know more than you think."
"I see. Embarrassing, then."
Probably her first brush with it—this being her debut assembly.
"And I commend you for steering clear."
She replied.
"I hate cowardice. Can I tell Grandpa?"
"Feel free, but it won't matter."
No proof.
That let it fester.
Exposure came from a fluke case.
She pondered, then sighed.
"True enough."
Sharp as ever—she got it.
"Anyway, let me escort you back."
She was staying at the Jegal annex near the Alliance.
Prestigious houses kept Luoyang villas.
Walking her there, I swallowed a bitter smile.
Murim sure ran a fine mess.