Eyes That See the Fight (1)
Namgung Cheon thought he'd seen wrong. The martial art the youngest young master had used to dodge the first attack.
'It was unmistakably Jeomcheong Faction's Yu-un Shinbeop.'
And the leap that followed.
'Jegal Clan's Cheon Gi Miri Bo.'
The second leap.
'Cheongsung Faction's Bi Ryu Bo.'
The midair twist of his body.
'Wudang's Jeun Jong.'
The swordplay that deflected the immediate follow-up attack.
'Wudang's Taeguk Geombeop.'
And the move that evaded the deputy commander's final strike...
'A mysteriously exquisite technique I'd never seen before.'
In an incredibly brief span, one person had unleashed five different martial arts.
Mastering a variety of techniques wasn't all that surprising. Just look at the Shaolin monks—they trained in all seventy-two arts under the sun.
But there was a vast difference between those Shaolin monks and the youngest young master.
Anyone could learn multiple arts from the same lineage. They shared the same foundation, after all.
But the youngest young master had deployed techniques from entirely different roots.
Even for Namgung Cheon, who had reached the Hwagyeong, that was impossible. If he tried it right now, his eight extraordinary meridians would tangle, his inner energy would run rampant, and he'd lose his life without a second thought.
"Heh heh, pulling off something like that and smiling about it..."
Namgung Cheon gazed at Namgung Daeso with eyes full of wonder.
"I wonder how many here could even spot it?"
Not even he had identified that final technique.
"Are you lot trying to create a monster?"
The Wudang arts Namgung Daeso had used must have come from the man who had blocked his path.
Mujikja thumped his wrinkled hand against his waist.
"Ow, gramps, you don't make monsters. They just come out that way naturally."
Hmm... Come to think of it, that was true.
Namgung Cheon glanced briefly at the real monster he knew.
"I see. So the youngest young master is the monster's whelp, then."
"That's right, kekeke. Still just a cub."
"A whelp, huh..."
"Whelp."
Argh, seriously! Keep calling me a whelp like that and you're pissing off the one listening!
I wanted to butt into their conversation and give them a piece of my mind right then and there.
Ow, ow, ow!
If it weren't for this blood trying to pour out nonstop, I'd be yelling my head off.
The remaining Daeyeon Geomdan members gathered around Namgung Cheon.
The unit, originally fifty-three strong, had been whittled down to nearly half.
The Daegalbak elders had taken heavy losses in the process, most of them sacrifices from the formation that had held Namgung Cheon at bay.
A true monster.
At that moment, Namgung Cheon barked a short order at the Daeyeon Geomdan behind him.
"Fall back for now."
Then he stepped forward alone.
Namgung Pil's expression hardened instantly. He could sense what the elder intended.
'The elder has decided to fight in earnest.'
Namgung Pil hurriedly led his men as far back to the edge of the sparring platform as possible.
Confirming they'd retreated a safe distance, Namgung Cheon looked deeply satisfied.
What the hell are they doing?
Meanwhile, I couldn't make sense of their actions.
We still had over thirty on our side, including Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja, plus the Daegalbak elders.
And he planned to take them on solo?
There were limits to confidence. Even for an elder grandpa, this was too shameless!
This might be an easy win after all?
As that thought crossed my mind, Mujikja's voice came—serious, unlike anything I'd heard from him before.
"Fall back."
"Huh?"
"Now!"
Why's he snapping? And why's that old man looking so grave?
Shouldn't we be thrilled at this chance and all rush in together?
But Ilseon Dosa quickly pushed me back. The other Daegalbak elders had lost their usual playfulness, faces grim.
"What's with everyone? We should all pile on and take him down! When's a golden opportunity like this gonna come again?"
No one reacted to my words.
Now they're ignoring me?!
Then.
"Young master, have you ever witnessed a duel between Hwagyeong masters?"
Ilseon Dosa spoke carefully, eyes never leaving Namgung Cheon.
"Nope."
I answered immediately. As if I'd ever seen masters like that fight.
"Then you've heard this: One master can dominate the entire battlefield."
"Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?"
That applied when the masters were lopsided, right?
We had plenty. Every Daegalbak elder was a master, and the monk grandpa and nosy grandpa were still kicking.
Did they have hidden injuries I didn't know about? Dragging this out to recover?
If so, we needed to gang up even more!
Argh! So frustrating. Driving me nuts. I wanted to pound my chest, but it'd probably make my injuries worse, so I held back.
"Kekeke, no need to get worked up. Looks like that nosy bastard wants to show you something."
"Show me what that they'd throw away a perfect chance like this? We could take down a Hwagyeong master right now!"
I shot pleading looks at the Daegalbak elders. But they wouldn't even glance my way, eyes locked solely on Namgung Cheon.
Damn it!
Helpless, I turned back to Ilseon Dosa, who gave me a gentle smile.
Smiling again. Always smiling. Haha.
"You're not wrong, young master. A group assault... it's a fine tactic. But only among same-sect comrades or those who've synced for years. Against a true master, half-baked teamwork just becomes poison."
I half-understood Ilseon Dosa's point but couldn't fully accept it. Two's better than one, three's better than two, right?
Come to think of it, yesterday when they talked about Namgung Cheon, they'd kept stressing one-on-one.
I thought it was just pride.
Was there another reason I didn't know?
Ilseon Dosa smiled again at my frustration.
Argh! I just wanted to headbutt that big dome once. Damn you, Hwagyeong—why are you so far away!
"Young master, keep your eyes wide open and watch closely. Every move from that nosy bastard and Namgung Cheon from here on out! It'll all become flesh and blood for your future martial arts training."
I spotted a flaw in Ilseon Dosa's words.
"Hold on. If we can't join in, couldn't the Daeyeon Geomdan team up with Namgung Cheon? They all trained in the same arts."
"Kekekeke."
Ilseon Dosa chuckled lowly.
Damn it! Laughing nonstop!
I stared at him in disbelief. Why laugh at a crucial moment like this! Pick one—sane or crazy, please!
Ilseon Dosa stopped laughing and gazed at me steadily, like a grandpa doting on a cute grandson. With his one remaining hand, he ruffled my hair wildly.
"Our young master is smart, picks up martial arts quick, trains hard on his own without being told, eats well, shits well, curses like a champ, has no manners but stacks up fine against other brats. Though he mistakes grown-up know-how for rat droppings, headbutts folks when bored, dreams of turning Shaolin monks' heads into wooden blocks with his mallet... and, and..."
Wait, what the hell is this now? Insult or compliment?
My mood soured fast. I wanted to swat the monk grandpa's hand away, but... somehow, I couldn't.
It carried weight. Just one hand, but it felt infused with something profoundly deep.
Anyway!
Only touch one spot! My hair's a bird's nest now. The head maid had styled it so nicely. I'll tattle later.
"Eh, no need to fret over that, young master. They wouldn't dare jump into this fight. Look—they've already scampered off."
"Huh...? You're right."
"Now, now! Let's fall back ourselves. Get caught in this, and you won't even have bones left."
Whoosh.
"Whoa!?"
Someone scooped me up just as I'd been propping myself on my sword. Looking up, it was Daegalbak No. 33.
Name...? Screw it, No. 33 it is.
"No. 33?"
"Hup hup, let's get back. Feels like my lifespan's shrinking by the second."
Tell me why before dragging me! All this vague nonsense!
Am I the boss or luggage? Right?
So I dangled like a trophy to the platform's edge, and the moment my feet touched ground, I finally got Ilseon Dosa's meaning.
Crack.
Craaaack.
Centered on Mujikja and Namgung Cheon, the surrounding bluegang stone began to shatter.
Whoosh.
The fragments floated into the air, crumbling to powder.
How intense was the energy clash between those two to cause this?
That's why we can't interfere.
To join that fight, you'd need their level at minimum.
Namgung Cheon looked at Mujikja with admiring eyes.
"You lot truly raise your youngest young master like a treasure. As the saying goes, young sprouts must weather the world's storms firsthand to grow unyielding."
"Keke, needless worry. A flower from Namgung soil is the strongest there is, no?"
"Hm..."
Namgung Cheon couldn't refute that. No place in the world was harsher than Namgung Sega.
Wait.
Did that mean Sword Lord was using this Namgung Cheon as mere fertilizer for the youngest young master?
It irked him deeply.
"Too much fertilizer rots the soil itself. Showing a fledgling sprout an unattainable realm right as it begins martial arts? Preemptive despair is no different from crushing it outright. He might be chained to this day forever."
"Could be."
Mujikja admitted it readily. He'd been through that despair himself.
"Cut the bravado and call for help now. If it were me, I'd have no qualms even with a group assault. Besides, folks are starting to recognize you now. After vanishing for a decade, the Sword Lord getting his dome cracked and bleeding like a fool in front of juniors? Not a pretty sight. Still time—team up with that monk over there."
An utterly absurd statement.
Who was Mujikja? Once among the righteous faction's top masters.
But to Namgung Cheon, he had every right to say it.
"Been a while since I felt this thrilled. How long since I went all out? First time since that gloomy Ma-gyo Seventh Elder, maybe?"
"Amitabha."
The Ma-gyo Seventh Elder had been the grim reaper to the righteous factions back then. He'd slain over a hundred, including Hwagyeong masters.
Mujikja slowly raised his arm. The notched old Songmun sword pointed at Namgung Cheon.
"Amitabha. I've long wanted a bout with you."
Mujikja assumed his stance.
Namgung Cheon recognized it.
"Ho! Hyegeom? Even Hyegeom won't work on me—you know that."
"You only know for sure once you clash."
"Fine. Beat you, and that monk's next."
In that instant, Namgung Cheon leaped at Mujikja.
His frame was three times an ordinary man's. Mujikja was tall, but dwarfed by the bulk.
Then came a clear, resonant voice brimming with pure energy.
"Watch closely, youngest young master. This is Wudang's most basic—and most vital—art."
"Kuhahaha! Sword Lord, you're awfully relaxed."
Exactly! Come on, focus!
I couldn't help but fear the near-demonic expression on Namgung Cheon's face.
Just watching their fight made my heart pound with sheer menace.