The Head Disciple of the Hainan Sect

Where is this place? (14) EP.42 Jongak, the Head Disciple of the Hainan Sect’s Third Generation. He was a direct disciple of the main mountain rather than a secular branch, giving him a high chance of becoming the next sect leader of Hainan. Having held a sword before the age of ten, he lived a life with nothing to envy. A wealthy household. The head disciple of one of the Nine Great Sects. Skill without any shortcomings. Yet perhaps the belief that he possessed everything had been his undoing. He was just a hair short of the humility every martial artist should carry.

“I am Jongak, head disciple of the Hainan Sect.”

“To look down on me is to look down on Hainan itself.”

Jongak’s life had been successful. No one could ignore him, and unless they were an elder of Hainan, nothing restrained him. But as he entered his twenties, that life slowly began to sink into obscurity.

“Jongak. Go to Jeongmu Academy, learn about the world, and train yourself.”

It was a direct message from the current sect leader of Hainan. As the head disciple, he could not defy the sect leader’s words, so he had no choice but to leave Hainan and enter Jeongmu Academy.

“Damn it. This is annoying.”

Everything irritated him. The thought of discarding what he already possessed and starting over filled him with frustration. But then a single message arrived from Hainan.

“If you reach the finals of the Jeongmu Academy tournament, you may return to Hainan immediately.”

The finals. Not even winning the championship—just reaching the finals meant he could escape this bothersome place and return to his proper station. With that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in mind, Jongak decided to compete.

He never doubted he would reach the finals. Unlike his junior brothers, he was the head disciple of the third generation, the one who received the full attention of Hainan.

But that was not enough. In this Jeongmu Academy, a brazen thug who dared to look down on Hainan existed openly.

‘At the very least, I’ll deal with that bastard before I leave.’

Throughout the entire tournament, one man lingered in Jongak’s mind. The guy who had subdued his junior brothers in front of everyone. In the name of Hainan, he absolutely had to teach him a lesson.

The main bracket of the tournament proceeded match by match. Unlike the preliminaries, the main rounds encouraged outside visitors. For renowned prestigious families and sects, it was the perfect stage to display their power to the world. And right now the arena where I stood was packed to bursting with both academy personnel and local residents.

‘Jongak, was it? This is more than I…’

What mattered to me, however, was not the gaze of the spectators. A small exclamation slipped from my lips before I could stop it. The first impression of Jongak had been nothing more than a cheap thug, but the instant he gripped his sword his entire aura transformed. The air itself seemed to grow cold.

Hoooooo…

“Kim Siin. If you think my sword is the same as Jonghyeok’s from the preliminaries, you are gravely mistaken.”

The representative of an entire generation from a colossal sect. His bearing did not shame the title of head disciple, and my heart beat faster despite myself.

The growing anticipation for Jongak naturally drew more attention to me, his opponent. Of course, it didn’t seem to be the favorable kind.

Cheers, concern, and mocking criticism poured from the spectators watching the arena. Yet I felt neither disappointment nor anger. The greater their disappointment and worry, the greater the glory that would return to me with victory.

“All right, prepare—”

“One moment.”

The moment the referee raised his hand to signal the start of the match, I stopped him. I needed to correct one fact. I pointed at my name written on the matchup board.

“I do have a sect.”

“That… I cannot change it now.”

“It doesn’t matter. I simply wanted my opponent to know.”

Since I used the martial arts of both the Cheonwol Sect and the Sichuan Tang Family, I could not openly write either name in that slot. Moreover, while I was technically a member of the Cheonwol Sect, I had not formally entered the Sichuan Tang Family. Although I had learned their arts from Dang Huiso, claiming to be of the Tang Family would have been inaccurate.

“I am Kim Siin, a disciple of the Cheonwol Sect and student of Dang Huiso of the Sichuan Tang Family.”

The spectators who heard my words began to murmur. They had never heard of the Cheonwol Sect, and the fact that I used the Sichuan Tang Family’s arts of hidden weapons and poison only added to their confusion. But when I offered a polite bow toward Jongak, the crowd fell silent and settled in to watch the coming match. Whatever arts the opponent used, it did not matter—so long as he was not a coward employing the wicked arts of the Demonic Cult or the Evil Faction.

“I am Jongak, third-generation disciple of the Hainan Sect.”

Jongak’s expression twisted slightly, but he did not show it openly. In front of so many spectators, he could not disrespect his opponent’s courtesy and tarnish Hainan’s teachings. Once preparations were complete, the referee raised his hand once more to signal the start of the duel.

Srrrng.

I drew my sword slowly while watching Jongak. The power would be different, but I had already seen Hainan’s sword through Jonghyeok. Yet the gap between Jonghyeok’s sword and Jongak’s was so vast it was hard to believe they practiced the same art.

Tssst.

Jongak transferred the sword in his hand to his left. The reason Hwayeong had called Hainan’s sword difficult to face. The reverse-hand sword. To properly wield the sword of the Hainan Sect, one had to be able to use both hands. Most sword arts in the murim were performed with the right hand. Therefore, Hainan’s left-hand sword completely contradicted ordinary sword theory.

‘I think I understand what Hwayeong meant.’

It felt like riding a small skiff into raging waves. Jongak lifted his sword and began a strange movement that looked almost like a dance. Or, more accurately, he spread his internal energy to seize the surrounding air and create a trembling atmosphere.

But.

“Your preparation is too long.”

“What?!”

I thrust my sword straight toward Jongak’s abdomen. Kaang! At the same time I deflected his blade, I widened the distance. His slightly torn upper garment entered my sight.

“You cowardly bastard!”

It seemed he had been preparing a finishing move; his eyes burned with fury as he glared at me.

“Cowardly? You’re not the main character of some boys’ comic. Why would I wait until you finish preparing?”

In truth, I had wanted to see that Southern Sea Thirty-Six Swords once more. The Raging Wave Water Sword Jonghyeok had displayed. I wanted to see both the small boat and the great waves. However.

“Or maybe only an idiot would wait when you’re radiating killing intent like that.”

“……”

My opponent was trying to kill me. I didn’t know exactly which reverse scale I had touched. It could have been a simple matter of pride, or perhaps the honor of the Hainan Sect mattered far more to him than I realized.

“If you come at me like that, I have no choice but to get serious.”

I was fully aware this was a spar. Had I been serious, my previous strike would have aimed at his throat rather than his abdomen. Understanding my meaning, his face turned deathly pale in an instant.

“You—!”

But the change in his expression did not last long. Realizing he had shown fear at my words, the pale face quickly flushed red.

“Shut your mouth!”

His sword began to move at a terrifying speed incomparable to before. The realization that he could not use his rigid blade in a crisis. This time he charged at me, thrusting his sword forward. Countless small waves and massive waves crashed toward me from every direction. The only escape was to retreat. Yet the energy woven ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from both left and right hands fiercely and swiftly blocked my path.

“So this is the real thing.”

It was not the awkward swordplay the youngest disciple of Hainan, Jonghyeok, had shown. Jongak’s threatening blade mixed feints and lethal strikes. His energy rode the waves, dancing to tear my limbs apart.

‘This time, let’s make it a little more spectacular.’

The New Moon that had defeated Shaolin’s Jin Hui was the root sword art of the Cheonwol Sect. Flower, tree, or reed—when the wind blows, no plant’s roots shake first. To cover the sky of all martial learning and overwhelm it, the roots must be firm. That was the teaching of the Cheonwol Sect. But we must remember that what seizes people’s eyes is not the roots buried in the earth.

‘What captivates people’s hearts lies above the roots.’

The straight stem, the leaves that spread green shade, and above all the flowers that bloom brilliantly across the world. The moon floating in the sky was no different. The fact that the moon is there does not change. Yet the scene created by its moonlight offers a beauty that cannot be bought even for a thousand gold.

I raised my sword. The blade began to embroider the empty air as softly as if swimming across the sky.

Kaang!

My sword scattered the incoming waves of Hainan. Kaang! Kaang! One by one. The intense and splendid sword currents that had filled the arena were shattered by my sword light. The blue of Hainan was being covered by the radiance of Cheonwol. Jongak’s face, as he executed the Raging Wave Torrent Sword, colored with dismay and shock. And when his final wave was swallowed by the light—

My sword light shattered Jongak’s blade.

“What was that?! What the hell just happened?!”

“Cheonwol Sect? What did that young hero say his sect was?”

The moment the first match of the main bracket ended, cheers erupted from every corner of the spectator seats. The crowd’s evaluation of me had already changed from ‘that guy’ and ‘nameless nobody’ to ‘young hero’ and ‘martial artist.’ Meanwhile, Jongak, who had lost his sword, stared at me with an expression closer to emptiness than shock or rage.

“There were no killing moves.”

I had recognized it as a spar until the very end and refrained from using lethal techniques. I had no particular desire to kill anyone, and I could subdue him sufficiently without them. Besides, winning a spar without leaving a single wound on the opponent—

“To win without cutting the opponent…”

“I cannot even begin to gauge the extent of that person’s martial prowess.”

It was only natural that my reputation would improve further. In the distance, Hwayeong, a disciple of the Cheonwol Sect, was watching me. Yet her expression held no joy at the elevated status of the Cheonwol ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sect. Instead, it was a mysterious face mixed with confusion and an inexplicable sense of alienation. At the time I did not know, but later I would understand why her expression had hardened. It was because I had deployed yin martial arts while possessing yang internal energy.