Winning for Nothing
Did I win for nothing?
"Haah......"
Faced with an absurdity like that, all I could do was let a hollow laugh slip out of me. My plan from the very beginning had been to raise as much hell as possible at this tournament and turn the whole thing into a circus...
"Was there really any need to go that far? Even doing it in moderation would have....."
"Dushik, it's not that you only know one thing... you don't know anything at all."
This was back when I had been explaining my plan to Dang Giyeong.
"You think I'd pull a stunt like this without giving it any thought?"
"Yep!"
Thwack-
My lightning-fast kick, practically routine by now, caught him square in the shin, and he went rolling head over heels across the ground until he was coated in dust from crown to toe.
I left Dang Giyeong where he lay and carried on with my explanation.
"First of all, if I act like a complete madman like this, do you really think the Alliance Leader or Bulseong would bother summoning me separately?"
"Wh...what on earth is that supposed to mean....."
"Nobody picks a fight with a madman. And say a meeting did happen. If I act like a rabid dog right in front of them, wouldn't they give up on talking me around?"
At the sight of me talking with my eyes darting every which way, his mouth opened and shut as if he wanted to say something, but I pressed straight on to reason number two.
"And every scrap of attention at the tournament lands on me. People care less about the heartwarming growth of some promising young talent from a famous sect than..."
"...the story of how the mad-dog young master of a prestigious clan turned out to have been hiding his strength all along. For drawing eyes, that's the far better tale, wouldn't you say?"
"R...right? Not that I'm actually hiding anything....."
"So those two reasons are all?"
He was still studying me with a face that said he couldn't decide whether to believe a word of it, so I shook my head and answered.
"The last reason is the nickname."
"Nickname?"
"That's right. Infamy is fame too, after all. If I wreck the place like this and then take the championship in overwhelming fashion..."
"Instead of Poison Dragon, you'd end up with something more like... Thousand-Slaughter Poison Lord, wouldn't you?"
"Now that's more like it! It takes a nickname like that for me to introduce myself with my head held high anywhere I go. Serpent-Scorpion? What the hell kind of name is Serpent-Scorpion!"
Naturally, Dang Giyeong muttered his reply wearing a face that made his opinion of the idea perfectly clear.
"Serpent-Scorpion, Thousand-Slaughter Poison Lord... same thing, really....."
"What was that?"
"Nothing at all, young master. Wherever you lead, I follow. All hail Dang Muyeong!!!"
Once I'd finished walking him through the whole scheme, I shared this flawless plan with the others as well...
"Young Master, if those were your goals, I don't believe you needed to go to all that trouble."
"Uh....."
"As for the Alliance Leader's summons, if you already know what he intends to say, you can simply decline, citing the need to manage your health."
"Well, that's....."
"As for people's attention... show them something overwhelming at the tournament, and it will follow on its own."
"........."
"And a nickname will settle on you quite nicely without any help, I'm sure."
There I had been, congratulating myself on this perfect plan and marveling at my natural-born genius, but Baekhwa's merciless review of it sent me straight to the bottom of the sea.
"So I was the fool all along... eheheh....."
"In any case, all it will do is circulate ugly rumors, so why not choose a different approach?"
She was still urging me to find another path even now, but...
"I already paid the Hao Clan to spread a few rumors, though..."
"What rumors....."
"That the Young Clan Head of the Dang Clan is a rabid dog, that the Nine Sects and One Union are nothing but trash he could beat blindfolded. I told them to embellish it nicely and spread it all over Henan..."
Smack-
Baekhwa, apparently stunned by the word-shaped thing that had tumbled out of my mouth, struck her own forehead.
"Th...that look in your eyes kind of hurts, you know....."
Receiving a gaze of pure contempt for the first time from the woman who spent every day pampering me left me a little wounded.
In the end, since the rumors would spread either way, she told me to see my plan through as intended, and that is how I came to be known across Henan as the disgrace of the Dang Clan.
But how heartless the heavens can be...
There I was, wading into the mire and rolling around in it by my own choice, and then some lunatic one step madder than me came along and started lapping the mud right up.
That Sword Saint's disciple of theirs had been dubbed the Spoon Assault Demon, and against that unhinged nickname, the Dang Clan's disgrace was reduced to a genuine afterthought.
So my plan had been to seize the spotlight for good in the Round of 64, once the small fry had been winnowed out and every eye in the venue began to converge. But then...
"I surrender!!!"
That bear of a man wasn't living down to his looks one bit. Why did he have to be so damn quick on the draw...
The word surrender left Paeng San's mouth the instant the match began, and with it the duel was over. I lowered my cocked fist in futility and murmured,
"Fuck....."
The spectators who had packed in at the news of a bout between the Paeng Clan's second son and the Dang Clan's Young Clan Head apparently felt exactly as I did.
"Aw, what the hell..."
"Hey! This one's a wash. Let's go catch another match."
"Tsk... what a waste of time. Say, wasn't the Sword Saint's disciple fighting right about now?"
"Yeah. If we book it over there, we might still catch some of it..."
"Then what are we waiting for! No point dawdling here."
To a man, faces twisted in disbelief, they poured out in a rush, and more than half the crowd drained away in search of other matches...
"San....."
"Eheheh... Big Brother, I'm a firm believer in never taking a fight I can't win....."
"Ahem... honored patrons, kindly make your way out."
"San....."
"This way is better for you too, isn't it, Brother? You save yourself the wasted effort."
"San, that does it. You're getting a beating, right here and now!!!"
"Huh?! Master Monk, stop him!!!"
"AAAAGH!!!"
Meanwhile, the spectators watching other matches elsewhere cocked their heads at the pig-slaughter squeals drifting over from the far arena.
"Hmm... was that match over there the better show? For screams like that to carry all the way here, how violent could it possibly have been..."
"Loud as that? I'd wager somebody's lost a limb..."
Of course, their attention soon drifted back to the two men actually fighting in front of them.
CLANG-
Most of the onlookers could only stand there with their mouths hanging open, watching a duel between two Peak Realm masters: a spearhead darting in faster than the eye could follow, and fists knocking it off its line again and again.
With swords, the arguments never ended: the Namgung, the Wudang, or perhaps Mount Hua. But when it came to the spear, there was no room for dispute. Between the young master of the Divine Spear Yang Family, bearer of the finest orthodox spearplay in the Central Plains, and the young master of the Hwangbo Clan, said to have been born with bones even harder than the Paeng's, everyone could only watch the blood-soaked battle in a trance.
It was, quite literally, a fight with real blood flying, and just as every gaze in the venue locked onto it...
Supreme Art of the Divine Spear Yang Family
Yang Do-wi's spear strike split into dozens of streaks and shot for Hwangbo Segwang's vital points.
"WHOOOAAA!!!"
The Spear King's supreme art, unfolding in his grandson's hands, sent the crowd into a frenzy... It still fell hopelessly short of his grandfather's technique, said to split into too many streaks to count, but even so, Segwang gritted his teeth and thrust out his fist against the murderous rain of incoming spear qi.
Heaven Strike
Bright yellow fist qi sheathed his hand, and he bellowed as he drove it straight into the spear qi swarming in at him like a cloud of darting points. With a rolling crack of thunder, light flared as though lightning had torn past right before their eyes.
Even the technique he had spent years honing could not cancel the attack outright, and his fist ran dripping with blood, but Segwang laughed like a madman and hurled himself into the lingering shockwave of the clash.
The charge was a naked declaration that he meant to close the distance, and Yang Do-wi hastily retracted his spear to smash it down on Segwang's head. But...
WHAM-
"Ghhk....."
The gap between them had closed without his noticing, and it cost him a full punch to the ribs. Barely swallowing his cry, he flung himself backward.
Even so, Hwangbo Segwang came storming after him, qi sheathing both fists, determined not to let him slip away.
CLANG- CLANG- CLANG-
Flesh and iron were colliding, yet Yang Do-wi turned those fists aside with a ringing like a forge tempering a blade.
"So those are the young masters of the great clans..."
"Whew... they're proving beyond doubt that those names aren't for nothing, all right."
The onlookers marveled at the ferocious exchange...
"Mmm... magnificent."
"Can you follow those two? I can hardly track them at all..."
"Neither can I. Which is precisely what makes them magnificent. Even these eyes of Wi Wonpyeong can't keep up."
"Oh, give it a rest... knocked out in the preliminaries, and all he's good for is talk."
Their mouths never stopped moving, but their eyes stayed busy chasing the two fighters' every step.
The difference from before, though, was that Yang Do-wi had now been driven onto the back foot...
Tsk... I've handed him the distance entirely.
Of all the weapons in common use across the Central Plains, the spear lives and dies by distance. Once a spearman handed that distance to a fist fighter, the one opponent whose entire art was erasing it, there was nothing left but to be driven back, step after step.
"KWAHAHAHAHA!"
That Hwangbo bastard just kept cackling like this fight was the finest entertainment he'd had in years, hammering punch after punch at him, so Yang Do-wi reversed his grip and chopped the spear down at the man's skull.
The butt of the spear swung high as the blade came chopping down toward Segwang's head...
SHWAAAA-
Hwangbo Segwang uppercut his fist straight into the descending spearblade...
CRACK-
The instant his fist met the shaft, he rode the rebound and drove it home into Yang Do-wi's jaw.
The impact knocked Yang Do-wi's senses loose for a moment, and he pitched forward.
"Well fought. I'd welcome another round with you sometime."
Hwangbo Segwang caught him and steadied him on his feet, saying it with a laugh.
"Winner: Hwangbo Segwang!!!"
The monk refereeing the match called out the victor's name, and the crowd took it up in a chant.
"WHOOOAAA!!! HWANGBO SEGWANG!!!"
Arms flung wide, he savored the moment, that heart-stirring roar washing over him. And then he noticed a languid-looking bastard off in the distance, grinning straight at him.
The man opened his mouth and said something, and Segwang found himself mouthing along, reading his lips.
"Tomorrow... me... and... you.....? Feel... free... to... look... forward... to... it?"
As if to confirm he had understood exactly what Dang Muyeong meant, the man nodded from far away, his grin stretched from ear to ear.
"Ah.........."
The moment Hwangbo Segwang remembered the tournament bracket he had completely forgotten, his soul quietly left his body.