Nothing Beats Consistency
There's a saying that no amount of talent or youth can overcome consistency. Naturally, plenty of people would disagree, and others might grumble that it's the same old nonsense. But Hwayeong, who had trained with the sword every single day since the moment she first became capable of coherent thought, was one of those who agreed with it wholeheartedly.
Where there is will, there is a path. Give your all to every endeavor.
Following those principles, Hwayeong never took any opponent in the martial tournament lightly. With a clear clang, she shattered her opponent's blade for her first victory. With a smooth shing, she accepted her opponent's surrender for her second. Her streak continued without pause, an unstoppable advance. The students who had only attended the academy's classes with casual interest could never catch up to Hwayeong, who trained with true purpose and relentless effort.
Because of this, the matches in Group A concluded far faster than those in the other groups. Hwayeong finished with a perfect record, five wins and zero losses. Without hesitation, she turned her steps toward the arena where Kim Siin’s Group G was competing.
I wonder how he's doing.
The Kim Siin she had observed possessed more talent for the sword than anyone she had ever seen. Teach him one thing and he understood two. Teach him two and he grasped four. Before long, he reached the point where he attained realizations on his own without any guidance. That was why Hwayeong was so curious about his matches. She wanted to see exactly how he would demonstrate the Cheonwol-mun's Moonlight Sword Art, and what kind of ingenuity he would display to counter the techniques of other sects.
Just as she was searching for Group G’s arena, a light impact struck her shoulder.
“Ah, my apologies for bumping into you.”
Two men in blue martial uniforms offered a quick apology before dashing off. A faint flicker of curiosity stirred in Hwayeong’s mind. From their attire, they were clearly participants in the tournament. The fact that they were rushing to watch a match in a different group suggested something noteworthy was happening there.
“Group G has quite a few formidable warriors. Most of them are from the Nine Great Schools or the Five Great Families. It’d be a shame to miss it!”
“I heard Jin Hwi from Shaolin is in Group G too.”
“Jin Hwi? You mean the one they’re already calling the next head of Shaolin despite his young age?”
Passersby raised their voices in animated conversation. Hwayeong had heard the rumors about Shaolin’s Jin Hwi. He was said to be an unparalleled genius recently produced by the temple, a prodigious martial monk personally instructed by the current head of Shaolin himself. Yet the name that truly lodged in her ear wasn’t only Jin Hwi.
“But we’re not going to watch Jin Hwi, are we? What was that nickname again?”
“Face-Breaking Fist.”
“Right, Face-Breaking Fist! Never thought I’d live to hear a righteous sect warrior called something like that. They say his fist and palm techniques are incredible.”
“His palm work is supposedly even better than his kicks. That’s why everyone’s flocking to see his match against Jin Hwi, isn’t it?”
Face-Breaking Fist. The nickname was both bizarre and menacing. Siin might have trouble even reaching the main bracket… Even setting aside the disciples from the Nine Great Schools and Five Great Families, Jin Hwi alone was enough to cast doubt on his chances. And now there was another master in Group G with that ridiculous title on top of it. Hwayeong’s expression cooled in an instant.
If the match hasn’t ended yet, I may still be able to help Siin.
Kim Siin had exceptional insight and sharp eyes, but he was strangely ignorant when it came to martial arts. In a situation where every scrap of information about the opponent mattered, Hwayeong’s experience facing Shaolin monks in the past would prove invaluable to him.
She quickened her pace toward Group G. Before long, a roar unlike anything from the other arenas reached her.
“Waaaaah—! Waaaaah—!”
The number of spectators here dwarfed the crowds elsewhere. Group G’s arena was closer to Group A than she had expected. When she finally caught sight of the two figures currently fighting atop the platform, Hwayeong’s face fell.
Damn it. Am I already too late?
Kim Siin and Jin Hwi’s match had begun at almost the exact moment she arrived, as if it had been waiting for her.
“Who do you think will win?”
“Has to be Shaolin’s Jin Hwi, right?”
The murmurs of the surrounding crowd drifted over. Yet the more she heard, the more Hwayeong’s expression twisted with alarm.
“What about the Face-Breaking Fist?”
“Well… judging from his previous matches, it’s not impossible, but… his opponent is from Shaolin. Beating Jin Hwi with fist and palm techniques alone will be difficult.”
“True enough. It is Shaolin, after all.”
Face-Breaking Fist. At this point, the word “Shaolin” no longer held any importance in Hwayeong’s ears. Various other conversations swirled around her, and every single one of them revolved around Kim Siin—the man currently facing a Shaolin martial monk on the platform before her.
Thud!Booom!
The deafening crash that rang out from the arena was hard to believe came from two human bodies colliding. Yet as time passed, the tide of battle gradually shifted in my favor.
“Benefactor Kim Siin… just what kind of training have you undergone?”
The monk who had been slamming his fists into my absurdly durable body finally began to whimper. “Why doesn’t it hurt? Is my fist too soft? Have my years of discipline been insufficient? I… I…!”
I felt a twinge of pity looking at him. By the standards of the second floor’s world, he was certainly a strong opponent. Unlike everyone else, he was the only one still standing after taking my attacks head-on. But that was as far as his level went.
“Have you ever fought with your life on the line?”
“…Pardon?”
“You know, a true life-or-death battle. Have you ever faced someone who was genuinely trying to kill you with everything they had? That’s what I’m asking.”
At my words, Jin Hwi’s mouth clamped shut. The difference in resolve. In truth, there had been plenty of moments where he could have threatened me—striking my neck with a hand blade, twisting my joints the wrong way once he grabbed my arm. There were many ways.
“Your attacks are too honest.”
They were predictable. The paths of his strikes were far too obvious. By comparison, the Hainan sect’s Jonghyeok, who had gone berserk trying to cripple me at any cost, had actually felt more dangerous. Let me say it again: as long as he refused to use lethal techniques, there was no way for him to defeat me.
“I see…”
My sincere advice caused Jin Hwi’s expression to grow deadly serious. A sharp aura slowly began to radiate from him, and I drew my sword with genuine delight.
Now I’ll finally get to see it properly.
Every morning when I opened my eyes, every time I trained with Hwayeong, every lesson I received from Dang Huiso—I had reminded myself of the second floor’s purpose. Its theme was to help players grow. The entire point was for each individual to fall into a different world, learn its combat methods, and become stronger.
And after arriving in this murim world and meeting Hwayeong, I had come to one clear realization: hearing a hundred times is not as good as seeing once. Seeing a hundred times is not as good as thinking once. And thinking a hundred times is not as good as doing once. Action brings the deepest understanding.
If possible, I want to witness every martial art there is.
I had learned the yin-based Cheonwol Divine Art. Through Dang Huiso, I had also acquired the yang-based martial arts of the Sichuan Dang family. What both taught me was that all paths of martial arts ultimately converged toward the same destination.
“Huuuuup!”
Jin Hwi drew in a deep breath and slowly lowered his stance. His right foot slid forward as his tightly clenched right fist extended. His left foot naturally drew back, while his left hand—fingers spread as if ready to strike at any moment—dropped to his waist.
“D-Dharma’s Eighteen Hands?!”
A man in green martial robes who had been watching our fight let out a cry of shock, eyes wide.
“If it’s Dharma’s Eighteen Hands, you mean the one also called Shaolin Five Fists?”
I watched as Jin Hwi’s movements gradually transformed. An aura reminiscent of a tiger emerged. Then he lowered his stance further, opened his fist, and the presence shifted into something sleeker. Is that a leopard?
Jin Hwi continued changing forms—taking on the shape of a snake, then a crane. When he finally straightened and looked at me, I saw a dragon coiling behind him.
“Impressive.”
Shing. I drew my sword once more. If my opponent was showing this much sincerity, it would be rude not to give my all in return.
“Here I come, Benefactor!”
Crack! The blue stone platform shattered beneath Jin Hwi’s leaping feet, sending fragments flying in every direction.
Quick Understanding (C-)
I observed his movements. The attack was more intense than I had anticipated. There were openings, but facing five beasts at once made it difficult to exploit them.
“Huu…”
I raised my sword. It wasn’t pointed at Jin Hwi, but at the sky. The moon had not risen. That didn’t matter. The moon hadn’t disappeared—it was simply unseen.
Shhhhh.
The moon is unchanging. Unlike the ever-shifting martial monk before me, it remains steadfast, silently illuminating the night sky. Yet paradoxically, the moon is also ever-changing—sometimes full, sometimes a slender crescent, sometimes a mere sliver. Sometimes its shadow even conceals the midday sun.
“Cheonwol Divine Art.”
My sword was more than enough to blind the eyes of five mere beasts. The first form of the Moonlight Sword Art—New Moon. The current of magical energy that flowed from my blade swallowed the beasts charging toward me.
The leopard lost its vision. The snake lost its agility. The tiger lost its ferocity. In the end, the crane and the dragon lost their freedom and power.
Slice!
My form crossed paths with Jin Hwi’s. A single line of blood droplets hung in the air. The entire crowd held their breath at our clash, as though drawing breath here would be unforgivable. And at the end of that silence, with everyone watching—
Thump.
Shaolin’s martial monk, Jin Hwi, collapsed. I sheathed my sword.