The Hidden Dragons Emerge (3)
The finalists for the main tournament had been decided. The first sparring arena was packed with people.
"Did you see it?"
Moyong Hu, the head of the Moyong family, asked his son.
"Yes."
Moyong Jeon, who had proudly passed the preliminaries in the 33rd arena, replied.
"Your thoughts?"
"I don't know who called that guy the Eel Young Master, but in my eyes, he's no mere loach."
"Then?"
"At least a python, or at most, an imugi."
The Moyong and Namgung families. Though the Namgung family was far ahead now, the two clans had once vied for supremacy in the world of swords as equals among the Five Great Families.
Moyong Hu still couldn't forget those days of glory. In his eyes, his son was a dragon—a genius that appeared once every ten, no, hundred years.
Confidence brimmed in his son's gaze as he watched the Namgung family's youngest young master. If anything, the boy seemed more focused on someone else.
"Is that the new dragon from Shaolin?"
"Yes. The rumors are already flying. They say he received martial arts directly from Venerable Buljon, the incarnation of Shaolin."
"What? From Venerable Buljon himself? I see..."
Moyong Hu knew exactly what worried his son.
"Don't worry about the future yet. Focus on becoming the Little Sword King first."
Since I-gwon used fists, Moyong Jeon would need to become the Little Fist King or Little Sword King to face him.
"Yes. Understood."
Moyong Jeon's voice overflowed with confidence. Moyong Hu looked proudly at his son, then glanced once more at Namgung Daeso.
Impressive, indeed.
The sword strikes he'd shown earlier deserved praise.
But it's still just basic swordsmanship.
It fell far short of unfolding the infinite azure sky. Father and son vowed success in the main tournament and headed back to their lodgings without regret.
The first to greet me as I stepped down from the arena was the Red Blood Unit Leader.
"That was the finest Cheongpung Geombeop I've ever seen."
I'd never chatted personally with the Red Blood Unit Leader outside official business. Still, excluding the Daegalbak uncles of Cheonryongjeon, he was the adult I'd spoken to most.
"Heh heh. I just gave it a whirl."
"No, you should be proud. If it weren't the Sawangjeon period, I'd beg the young master to demonstrate for my Red Blood Unit men. I'm dead serious."
"Aw, come on, with all these people watching. Heh heh."
Praise never gets old—feels great every time. Then the Daegalbak uncles swarmed toward me.
"Young master! Well done!"
Aaah, more praise!
"When did you learn that technique?"
I picked it up on the sly. As a direct descendant of the Namgung family, it would've been weird if I couldn't use our arts.
"It was different from the original Cheongpung Geombeop, right?"
Daegalbak No. 18 uncle had sharp eyes, as always. Well, I hadn't exactly wanted them to notice. Heh heh.
"By the way, got another Hwandan gift set to spare?"
I shot back instantly.
"Nope!"
"Tch!"
Beggars gonna beg. Just wait till I run into those Beggar's Sect punks—I'll hammer some shame into their thick skulls.
Meanwhile, Ilseon Dosa and Jinheo approached I-gwon and the three disciples first.
Ilseon Dosa opened with a pleased smile.
"Your martial arts have stabilized even more. I can tell you haven't slacked off. Good work."
"I trained daily in what Bald Grandpa taught me. Asked Defrocked Grandpa whenever I got stuck."
Jinheo was abbot again, but I-gwon preferred the old nickname and stuck with it. Jinheo didn't mind—in fact, he beamed proudly at the boy.
He didn't forget to console the three disciples who'd failed the preliminaries.
"You fought well. But a loss is a loss. Back at Shaolin, you'll face even harsher training. Think you can handle it?"
"Yes! We'll show you!"
"We'll keep it in mind!"
"Good. Rest easy while you're at the Namgung estate."
"Thank you! Abbot, could you spare some money?"
The real charm of Sawangjeon started now. With finalists selected, the tension crushing the late disciples and sect leaders lifted.
Especially for these vigorous youngsters. Where youth gathered, so did fun. Their efforts had borne fruit—they wanted to play.
"Preliminaries are over, and even the hundred-some made finals—no, we're not saying we'll slack off, but there's time till the main round..."
Amitabha.
Jinheo understood. He'd been the same at their age. The problem? Shaolin was broke.
He secretly poked Ilseon Dosa's side.
Poke!
Ilseon Dosa sighed, pulled a money pouch from his bosom, and handed it to the three disciples.
"Thanks, Bald Grandpa!"
"We'll never forget this kindness, Bald Grandpa!"
"Heh heh, you rascals."
That damn "Bald Grandpa" line—did it itch or something?
Mujikja was meeting his Wudang sectmates too.
"Did you see?"
Wudang's sect leader Giheo asked his late-arriving disciple. Unlike Shaolin, the mood here was subdued.
Sawangjeon's rules pitted same-weapon users first, then winners against each other. So Namgung Daeso and I-gwon wouldn't meet soon—not till they became Little Sword King and Little Fist King.
But Wudang was different—one of the top sword sects.
Unlike his usual cheer, Gu-gi-ja answered carefully.
"Hard to say, but it drew the eye naturally."
He'd missed Namgung Daeso's balance of Jeong Taegeuk and Yeok Taegeuk embodying the beauty of the mean. He'd arrived mid-Cheongpung Geombeop.
That alone let Gu-gi-ja gauge the man.
"If we fought, I couldn't guarantee victory. But don't worry—I'm not planning to lose easily. Sword Venerable taught me some things."
"Good, that's a relief."
Giheo nodded, then asked his junior brother U-gi-ja.
"How'd the others do?"
Wudang had sent 30 disciples.
"Three made finals, including Gu-gi-ja."
Not bad, not great. This Sawangjeon is leagues above last year's level.
Three from Wudang? Solid news. Giheo pulled a hefty pouch and handed it to U-gi-ja.
"Tell the kids to unwind. No trouble."
"Yes. Thank you, senior brother."
Gu-gi-ja, worn from his match, headed to rest first. U-gi-ja followed to distribute the cash.
As they vanished, Giheo asked Mujikja.
"What do you think, senior brother?"
Mujikja had been silent—even when Giheo pulled out money.
Cheapskate geezer!
Ignoring that, Mujikja cleared his throat.
"Ahem! If Gu-gi-ja hasn't fully internalized my teachings, four out of ten chance. If he has, five. If he surpasses the realm... maybe six he'll win."
"Even surpassing the realm, only six? Is the young master that strong?"
Giheo couldn't fathom it. He eyed Namgung Daeso puzzled. Sure, the kid was strong for his age, but here gathered most finalists.
Giheo scanned a few with gleaming eyes. Compared to them, Daeso's display was amateurish.
Just Cheongpung Geombeop in the end.
Infusing the endless cheonggung into a sword was worlds apart from mere clear wind.
"No need to get worked up."
Mujikja smiled faintly, seeing his junior like a younger self.
"You'll get used to it watching."
Mujikja gazed afar. Everyone chattered about the match—except the Shaolin group.
"But is this all the money? Sigh... whose nose do we shove it up?"
"Tell me about it. Can't even complain."
Kekeke.
Silly talk, but the freest here. They'd seen it countless times—how true geniuses overcame trials.
Luckily, Wudang had one such genius. If the boy fully absorbed his insights, he might spark a revolution.
"Alright! Time for us to go. The kids need it, and you have prep for finals, Giheo."
Sawangjeon crowned the world's top late disciple, but also gathered all Murim leaders. They wouldn't leave after kid tricks.
Now came the real adults' fight. Most had left early sans finals, but the rest would see it all tonight.
"Right."
Three finalists—Wudang's pride, enough to flatten rivals. Giheo brimmed with anticipation for nightfall.
* * *
After the Daegalbak uncles tormented me awhile, I finally escaped back to Cheonryongjeon.
I-gwon and the Shaolin disciples were gone, as were the others. Only Sinyejang greeted me.
"Sinyejang granny, I'm starving~ Feed me."
She asked nothing about the preliminaries. Her deep consideration warmed me. Best Sinyejang ever!
"Already prepared."
"That's my Sinyejang. What's for lunch?"
She smiled brighter than ever.
"20-kind wild herb bibimbap."
"..."
Damn, forgot.
"Meat?"
She grinned cheekily.
"None."
Best my ass.
Night deepened. Moon rose, but Namgung estate burned hotter than day. People streamed from halls to one spot—the heat's source.
They filed into a building. Soon, an elder pierced the dark.
"Oh dear, am I late? Old age made me nod off. Heh heh."
"No, perfect timing, Military Strategist senior."
"Good. Thank you for your efforts."
"Yes, sir!"
With Namgung Ilro last, the family head's hall doors shut. Shadow Guardians 1 through 13 stood unseen before. 14 through 50 spaced out around.
Inside the hall:
"Long time no see, everyone."
Namgung Ilro, former Murim Alliance strategist and current Namgung military advisor, greeted the Murim leaders.
Creak.
As he sat, the standing leaders followed.
Namgung Ilro glanced upper-left. Namgung Hancheol sat expressionless.
"Family head, a word for these old faces?"
Namgung Hancheol rose swiftly. All eyed him warily. Till Ilro arrived, none dared move—hence standing despite chairs.
He scanned them lightly, paused at Ilro, and spoke.
"I'm off for drinks. Handle it, strategist."
Relief washed over them.
"Understood."
Post-exit, Namgung Ilro addressed the group. Familiar faces mixed with new.
"Shall we discuss the main tournament?"
Meanwhile, unsatisfied by 20-kind herb bibimbap, I stepped out for meat—and faced the unexpected.
"D-Daeso. H-Hi."
"You—you!"
"L-Long time."
Too busy lately, I'd forgotten.
"You in Sawangjeon too?"
Obvious on second thought.
"Yeah."
My one friend ever, pre- and post-regression. Future bearer of the grand title Volcanic Sword Ghost—but a chain to him.
"Heard you were here... came to see your face. Glad I did."
"Passed prelims?"
"Yeah, got lucky."
Lucky, huh...
Sawangjeon wasn't luck's game.
"Anyway, eaten? Nah, probably not."
He was likely shunned by his sect then. Made sense he'd come—timing fit.
"Let's grab food, Yuhan."
Yuhan. Hwasan's sect leader disciple. Secluded disciple.
"Got no money..."
"..."
Damn it!! But I felt like I forgot something important...
Gurgle.
Stomach first!