What Are You Gonna Do About It? (2)
Namgung Je-cheon had been searching for Namgung Daeso since earlier.
“Damn it, where the hell is he?!”
In Namgung Je-cheon's hand was a single sheet of paper.
The number of sects participating in this Sawangjeon was the largest in history.
For the past five months, Namgung Je-cheon had pulled all-nighters in the military strategy office, preparing accommodations for the participating sects during the tournament, along with all sorts of other conveniences.
Of course, Namgung Je-cheon wasn't officially part of the military strategy office anymore. But since this was Deputy Commander Ihyang's first time handling such a massive event, he'd had no choice but to shoulder everything as her predecessor.
And he'd just wrapped it all up.
A total of 125 sects were participating in the Sawangjeon. The number of late disciples and sect members came to a whopping 122,000.
It was a staggering figure just to look at.
For the preliminaries, they'd been divided into about 120 groups, which meant setting up over 120 sparring grounds—and the arenas within them.
Right now, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say Namgung Je-cheon had reached his mental and physical limits—no, he'd surpassed them.
If he hadn't been popping spirit pills every day, if he hadn't built up his stamina at Shaolin Temple, he would've collapsed long ago.
Stagger.
Exhaustion crashed over him like a wave. He wanted to ditch the youngest young master—who was probably running wild somewhere—and just crash.
The only thing stopping him was that single sheet of paper in his hand.
“Seriously! This is driving me insane!”
He didn't even have the strength to walk anymore. No thoughts came to mind. He just wanted to flop down anywhere and sleep.
That's when he spotted Namgung Daeso in the distance, walking this way with a sly grin on his face.
“Hey! Je-cheon, long time no see?”
I greeted Namgung Je-cheon cheerfully—it had been five months since I'd last seen him.
He'd been swamped with work, and I'd spent the same five months solely on training, so this was our first face-to-face since arriving at the Namgung estate.
But for some reason, the look he was giving me rubbed me the wrong way. It was exactly like...
'The kind of glare people shoot at a beggar wandering by.'
I quickly hid the money pouch behind my back and approached him.
“Haa... Here, take this.”
Without preamble, Je-cheon let out a deep sigh and handed me a letter.
I took it, not sure what it was, and glanced back at him.
“Huh?”
But Je-cheon was staggering off somewhere.
“Hey! Where you going? What about food?”
“Not hungry.”
He answered while stumbling again. He looked like he might topple over any second, but he didn't. Looked like he'd kept up his lower body training even while I wasn't around.
From what the Daegalbak guys had told me, he'd been pulling all-nighters handling a flood of tasks.
'Guess it's all done now. No way he's not exhausted.'
He looked ready to drop and pass out right then and there. And with a body like that, he'd still gone out of his way to track me down just to hand this over?
I unfolded the letter immediately.
“Ho ho!”
Jackpot—I'd scored some prime intel.
It was the preliminary match bracket.
The Sawangjeon was straightforward: preliminaries, then finals. Preliminaries were closed-door, finals fully public.
“This...”
I swallowed hard as I scanned the bracket.
* * *
Preliminaries kicked off the day after all participants had finished registering—a full day later.
Sects had been pouring into the Namgung estate for about a month now, and registrations wrapped yesterday. Today was that next day.
I'd woken before dawn, still dark out, and sunk into meditation.
Sunrise was coming soon.
Click.
The door opened. Sinyejang stood outside.
“Young master, time for the Sawangjeon preliminaries.”
I opened my eyes and replied.
“Got it.”
Stepping out, the courtyard was empty. I'd given the Daegalbak guys the day off until the tournament ended.
“You got gifts for the guys?”
“Yes. Ihyang prepared special healing pill gift sets—one for each.”
“Good work. Je-cheon and the sisters still sleeping?”
Not just Je-cheon and Ihyang, but Ilhyang and Samhyang had pulled all-nighters too, handling the massive influx of people.
“Yes. They've been out cold since yesterday, dead to the world.”
“Let 'em sleep.”
“That's the plan.”
“Alright, I'm off.”
“But young master?”
“Yeah?”
“Why'd you bring betting slips to the preliminaries?”
Sinyejang had zero tact sometimes. Asking the obvious.
No one around, but I still glanced about before leaning in to whisper.
“Got any spare cash stashed?”
Preliminaries were a golden opportunity for every hidden dragon. Yeah, opportunity!
A chance for a massive payday, a total life-changer.
“Sigh...”
Sinyejang's sigh stretched on forever.
* * *
Feeling the fat stack of betting slips in my bosom, I headed to the First Sparring Ground for preliminaries.
Plenty of martial artists already out, prepping.
Preliminaries ran from the First to the 125th Sparring Ground. The Namgung estate had started expansions early for this.
Rules had tweaked a bit too. Twenty arenas per sparring ground, fifty late disciples battling simultaneously per arena. Only one advanced to round two.
That meant twenty qualifiers per ground, who then fought among themselves for the final two spots in the main tournament.
Preliminaries were brutal from the jump.
Frankly, cramming this schedule was absurd. No denying it.
But Sawangjeon wasn't just about scouting top late disciples. The real goal? Never repeat the past.
Murim had already lost once to the Ma-gyo. Only the Namgung clan had beaten them.
These were the rules set by the Namgung clan—people who valued pride over life itself. They followed and enforced them without hesitation to avoid old mistakes.
And Sawangjeon was also a platform for anyone to challenge the Namgung estate formally. A shot at glory.
Stepping into the sparring ground, every eye inside locked on me warily.
“He's here.”
“Namgung estate's youngest young master.”
“Loach incarnate!”
Okay, that's...
“Eel Prince Namgung Daeso!”
I wanted a cool nickname too.
Then, a voice cut through, totally clashing with the vibe—someone acting like we were buddies.
“Found the thing I wanna smash most!!!”
Crazy bastard.
'Haa...'
Of all people, he'd been grouped with me.
He shoved through the crowd with his massive frame, barreling toward me.
“Wh-what? Why shove?”
“Smash.”
Hey... don't just blurt it out like that. Makes it sound real.
“Won't move? Smash everything!”
“...”
“For real!”
A few Shaolin third-generation disciples trailed behind Yi Gwon, heads bowed in shame.
I get it. Tough having a lunatic like him as your senior brother.
Finally, Yi Gwon and the Shaolin disciples reached me.
The third-gens bowed immediately.
“Long time no see, instructor!”
“Hope you've been well, instructor!”
Just two, but still.
“Young master, spar with me first!”
Three including that guy. With all eyes already on us, the crowd buzzed.
“Why are Shaolin third-gens so deferential to the Namgung youngest?”
Beaten into it. Not that I meant harm—they'd leveled up big time thanks to it.
“Guess the rumors were true.”
“What rumors?”
“Your sects got visits from elders who'd vanished ages ago, right?”
“Yeah, yesterday. Total legends. Felt like the phrase 'unprecedented masters' was made for them. And they brought Yi Han's special healing pill gift sets—treasures you couldn't buy for money!”
Made me proud. And that was why I'd hustled yesterday, raking in cash.
Even family—money stuff's gotta be airtight.
Yi Han-label special healing pill gift sets? I bought 'em all.
Ah... tears.
“Overheard the elders talking yesterday, though...”
Someone spoke up softly.
Suddenly, everyone stared at his mouth.
Uh...!
That arm knot. Beggar scum.
Damn. Daegalbak No. 33 must've blabbed.
His disciple became gang leader or whatever—he was thrilled yesterday.
“They said the Murim Universal Subjugation has already begun.”
“What?! Thought that was just some rumor floating around Murim! Some lunatic at the Namgung estate spouting nonsense, right?”
“Exactly. That lunatic showed up yesterday, blabbing straight to my face. Said he'd already taken Shaolin. Wouldn't shut up about it...”
Kill 'em? Rush over and crack Je-cheon's skull right now?
Sinyejang said he was sleeping—when'd he sneak out?
I couldn't stomach listening to this. Stepped forward to clear it up.
But the beggar pointed right at us.
I froze at the gesture.
“It's already started. Look—Shaolin under their thumb!”
“No wonder!”
“Namgung estate lives up to the name!”
“H-hey! There's a misunderstanding...”
I opened my mouth to explain as best I could.
That's when Yi Gwon stepped forward with a grim face. His bulk hid me naturally.
And Yi Gwon declared:
“Who to smash first? Just say the word.”
The crowd exploded: “As expected!”
Of all times, the Red Blood Group arrived then, shutting it down.
“Quiet, everyone!”
Sect leaders followed, there for fair judging and to scout their disciples' results. A few Daegalbak guys among them.
Luck's turned, huh.
The monk grandpa and defrocked monk grandpa entered side by side. Real buddy-buddy master-disciple vibes.
Even though one's now a minion in the Murim Universal Subjugation.
Monk grandpa glanced at me, passed by, then mouthed something at Yi Gwon.
Didn't wanna know, but the words burned into my brain.
-Smash 'em all!
Yi Gwon bellowed back.
“Got it!”
People stared at the randomly yelling Yi Gwon—then at me again.
No fixing this. Misunderstanding just dug deeper.
Then the scribes entered to record results. Red Blood Group leader checked and spoke.
“Preliminaries start now. Called names, ascend to your arena in order!”
The rowdy atmosphere cleared instantly. Tension thick.
Except for one guy. Me!
I knew everyone's matchups here. Lucky Yi Gwon was on a different arena—same for the other Shaolin disciples.
'First one's me.'
“Namgung estate's Namgung Daeso, to Arena 1.”
Called it.
Crowd stirred as I climbed up. Others called after followed, striding to my arena.
Finally, all preliminary participants were on their arenas. Yi Gwon and the Shaolin guys on Arena 10.
“Assume you've heard the rules.”
Red Blood Group members took positions everywhere—to prevent accidents.
“Everything allowed except killing or intentional lethal strikes.”
Minimal safety rules. Gulps echoed around.
Red Blood Group leader wrapped it up curtly.
“First round preliminaries—begin.”
That instant, every late disciple on Arena 1 drew their swords at me—like it'd been rehearsed.
'Well, well?'
Right on cue.
Now I got it. Why Namgung folks beat up other sect people outside.
Loosen those faces. This is why I...
“Look just like Ma-gyo scum, huh?!”