Yeon Cheon Baek was watching the match from the stands—not the VIP seats—together with Yeon Woo Jin.
“Don’t you get a suspicious feeling?”
At Yeon Cheon Baek’s question, Yeon Woo Jin nodded.
“He’s stronger than anyone here, but he’s pretending to be weak.”
“Heh-heh-heh. Interesting. There’s no way sothing like that ca out of so no-na place. Looks like soone who dislikes this tournant planted them here.”
“Who wouldn’t like the Divine Dragon Tournant?”
“It could be sothing stirred up from the Frontier, or a force inside the Central Plains that wants noise.”
Yeon Woo Jin fell into thought at Yeon Cheon Baek’s words.
“Anyone you can guess?”
“I’m suspicious of the Demonic Cult.”
“You believe they’ve already begun to move?”
“Yes.”
“And after starting operations, all they do is... interfere with a tournant?”
“It won’t be simple interference.”
“Then?”
“They intend to scatter attention until their power is fully in place.”
“Hm.”
“If that’s the goal, it’s actually fortunate.”
“What do you an?”
“If the purpose is to divert attention, it ans the Demonic Cult still needs ti.”
“I see. Ha-ha-ha. Our Woo Jin really is sharp.”
Yeon Cheon Baek felt proud of him.
“So if the Demonic Cult is behind those people, we should nab them?”
“Catching them won’t help. They probably don’t even know what they’re doing.”
“Don’t know? What do you an?”
“They might rember nothing at all, like Uncle Ma Ryang.”
At Yeon Woo Jin’s words, Yeon Cheon Baek shot a look at Ma Ryang, who had been sitting quietly.
He clicked his tongue after eyeing Ma Ryang, who bowed his head low.
“How weak is your will that a re bit of hypnosis makes you forget Woo Jin.”
“Uncle Ma Ryang did nothing wrong. The opponent was the problem.”
When Yeon Woo Jin covered for him, Ma Ryang’s face filled with gratitude.
Had anyone else contradicted Yeon Cheon Baek like that, a fist would have flown on the spot.
But Yeon Woo Jin was the exception.
He was the beloved grandson he wouldn’t mind holding in his eyes.
Even after being contradicted, honey practically dripped from Yeon Cheon Baek’s gaze.
“Anyway, if those guys also can’t properly rember what they do, catching them is pointless, isn’t it?”
“Fragnts will remain. I’m thinking of pulling those mories out.”
“Pull mories out? How?”
“With my ability. I want to try it.”
Yeon Cheon Baek nodded.
“If it’s you, you can do it. If it works, we’ll have cause to use it often going forward.”
Yeon Woo Jin nodded back.
“We won’t have to bother with grueling torture, so we won’t waste strength or ti.”
“Exactly.”
“So, should I go drag one in right now?”
Yeon Woo Jin shook his head.
“Let’s leave them for now. I want to see what purpose brought them in.”
“Ha-ha-ha. All right, let’s do that.”
****
Unlike the unsettled mood among the orthodox leaders, the heat of the Divine Dragon Tournant only climbed higher.
At last, the long-awaited match between prestigious sects was about to unfold.
“An Ho of the Mount Hua Sect!”
“Yeong Myeong of the Qingcheng Sect!”
At the referee’s call, the two stepped onto the stage.
Facing each other, they traded a brief salute with cupped fists.
“I ask for your guidance.”
“I likewise.”
Both n smiled.
Truthfully, An Ho underestimated Yeong Myeong.
They were both mbers of the Nine Schools and One Gang, but even within that group there were levels.
He considered Qingcheng a step below.
In fact, among those assembled, he didn’t see anyone as a real opponent.
Still, since they were both from the Nine Schools and One Gang, he intended to be mindful and let him lose with so style.
He was curious about Qingcheng’s martial arts, too.
Broadening one’s horizons with various techniques could be a stepping stone to the next realm.
“Begin!”
At the referee’s shout, the two slowly drew their swords from their scabbards.
“Well then, shall we have a go?”
When An Ho spoke with a grin, Yeong Myeong nodded and took his ready posture.
One knee bent, blade held horizontally by the right flank.
An Ho set his own stance and began to slide his feet sideways.
When did I ever size people up beforehand? I’ll know once I clash.
He kicked off the floor and shot forward.
“Nine Plum-Blossom Changes!”
An Ho’s sword thrust straight like a bolt.
Right before Yeong Myeong, his sword flickered, releasing sword-qi in nine rapid variations that flew forth.
Most people would panic here, scrambling to dodge or block, but Yeong Myeong calmly shifted and knocked aside every one of An Ho’s strikes.
Clang—clangg—!
An Ho wavered slightly at the strength, which was greater than he’d expected.
Surprise filled his face.
What? He brushed aside my strike delivered at five-tenths of my power?
He’d attacked with the sa internal strength he used on others so far, yet unlike them, this one blocked it far too lightly.
An Ho smiled.
Well, I suppose he is from the Nine Schools and One Gang.
Yeong Myeong, who had just parried his sword, changed to a different ready posture.
A defense-forward style?
Then he should attack even more ferociously—so An Ho set his stance.
The Mount Hua Sect’s signature arts began to unfurl from his body.
The spectators gasped at the dazzling display of swordsmanship.
Until now, there had been no one worth showing this swordwork against, so the crowd grew bored whenever An Ho walked out.
Matches ended too fast.
This ti his opponent was from Qingcheng, also one of the Nine Schools and One Gang, so they had expectations.
And those expectations weren’t betrayed.
“Wow! As expected of Mount Hua!”
“Is that the fad Plum-Blossom Sword Art?”
“Right. That’s Mount Hua’s pride, the Twenty-Four Forms Plum-Blossom Sword Art.”
“Ooh! The one we’ve only heard about.”
“But there’s a flaw—it isn’t complete.”
“What do you an?”
“The manual for the Twenty-Four Forms Plum-Blossom Sword Art is in Martial Deity Heaven now. What the Plum-Blossom Invincible Sword is displaying isn’t the fully transmitted Twenty-Four Forms.”
“Is that so? ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ It’s strong for being incomplete.”
“Isn’t it? If it’s this strong unfinished, imagine it perfect. There’s a reason it represents Mount Hua.”
“I see.”
Whatever the case, the spectators enjoyed watching the sect’s pride, the Twenty-Four Forms Plum-Blossom Sword Art.
But An Ho—the one executing it—wasn’t enjoying himself.
Because Yeong Myeong shrugged off everything without trouble.
He had also been holding back his power so as not to injure him.
He hesitated.
To beat Yeong Myeong, he would have to go all out—and that could cause serious harm.
As if reading his mind, Yeong Myeong smiled and spoke.
“I’m fine. Please co at with everything.”
An Ho hesitated for a mont.
“I want this to be a match without regrets.”
At that, An Ho seed to set his resolve; he pressed his lips together and nodded.
Vmmmmm—
Resonance rose from An Ho’s blade.
Whoosh—
A formidable aura surged off his body, snapping his robe.
“Then I’ll go all out.”
“Thank you.”
For the first ti, Yeong Myeong took an attacking stance rather than a defensive one.
An Ho grinned at the sight.
He felt his opponent’s will to et him at full strength.
His heart pounded.
It was a first.
An Ho took a liking to Yeong Myeong.
So, hoping he wouldn’t be badly hurt, he poured energy into his sword.
Tzzzz—
A plum-tinted radiance sheathed An Ho’s blade.
A roar burst from the stands.
“It’s Sword Astral Qi!”
“Good heavens! To see Sword Astral Qi here!”
“The late-generation elites of the great sects are no joke!”
Even Yeon Cheon Baek, watching from the stands, wore a surprised look.
“Well now! Impressive. Seems the Central Plains haven’t just been lazing about.”
Yeon Woo Jin answered with a grin.
“Of course. There are more than a few sects vowing to surpass Martial Deity Heaven.”
“Are there? Heh-heh-heh. My, my.”
Was he picturing the Central Plains sects charging in?
Yeon Cheon Baek couldn’t stop smiling.
“Why are you so pleased? Imagining a big brawl with the Central Plains?”
“Hm? Ah, no.”
So he was.
Yeon Cheon Baek said,
“Still, it’s admirable. They must have poured everything the sect had into raising those ones. To think they’d reach that height.”
“Thanks to Martial Deity Heaven, the Central Plains have climbed several rungs.”
“Indeed. In the old days, late-generation elites barely scraped the third stage of the Transformation level. Now they’re stronger than the heads of most sects under Martial Deity Heaven.”
“Yes.”
“Fun—this is fun. Hahaha!”
Leaving truly delighted Yeon Cheon Baek behind, Yeon Woo Jin refocused on the match.
After a brief standoff, An Ho and Yeong Myeong moved at once, kicking off the floor.
Just like An Ho’s, a bluish astral sheen gathered on Yeong Myeong’s blade.
“Plum Shadow Forms a River!”
“Yin-Yang Astral Cleave!”
Jjjeong—
Two powerful attacks crashed together, blasting out a shockwave.
Yeong Myeong went to chain the next strike imdiately.
At that mont, sothing ca flying from beneath the blade he thought he’d blocked.
He twisted his body to evade, but it was too close to avoid.
Thud—
“Ghk!”
What flew out was a separate packet of condensed astral qi An Ho had set beneath his sword.
It pierced straight through Yeong Myeong’s shoulder.
Of all places, it was the arm holding his sword.
Yeong Myeong clenched his teeth.
His own carelessness had led to this.
Enduring the pain, he looked at An Ho—
—and behind him, he saw a familiar face.
In the stands: Yeon Woo Jin.
Seeing Yeon Woo Jin, Yeong Myeong gripped his sword, swallowing the pain.
If he lost like this, he’d have no face to see Yeon Woo Jin.
At the sight of Yeong Myeong’s shaking hands still gripping his sword, An Ho lowered his weapon and spoke.
“Let’s stop. Wielding a sword with that arm is too much.”
“No. The match isn’t over.”
“This isn’t a life-and-death duel.”
“For , it’s very important.”
At the sincerity in Yeong Myeong’s eyes, An Ho sighed and raised his sword again.
“It can’t be helped. I’ll end it with this one move.”
An Ho wanted to subdue him quickly so he could get treatnt.
He liked him.
Gritting his teeth, An Ho swung to put Yeong Myeong down.
Claaang—
He had no business swinging properly with that arm injured, so it was just a raw stroke without form—and it was blocked.
Yeong Myeong, jaw tight, had switched the sword to his left hand and stopped it.
His resolve was formidable.
An Ho nodded.
“I’ll use the best attack I can muster to make it easy for you.”
He poured energy into his sword.
“Plum Fragrance Becos a Flow.”
This was the end.
Thinking so, he cut.
And as he passed by, leaving a sword-wound on Yeong Myeong’s body—
—a sting flared in his own shoulder.
What?
When he looked, a cut had opened there, blood running down.
When?
An Ho looked at Yeong Myeong.
The blade was clenched between the teeth of the man as he toppled.
In the instant of the cut, he’d caught his flying sword with his mouth and swung.
Watching Yeong Myeong collapse, An Ho’s expression grew complicated.
Why?
Why had he fought with such desperate ferocity?
He couldn’t understand it.
Yeong Myeong had been fighting a life-and-death battle all by himself.
“An Ho of the Mount Hua Sect, victory!”
As the referee’s cry rang out, An Ho watched Yeong Myeong carried away on a stretcher.
An Ho thought Yeong Myeong looked cool.
Even in the mont of losing, he had given everything.
The wound wasn’t deep, but it stung.
Staring at his shoulder, An Ho murmured,
“A fine fellow.”
Had he ever been that desperate?
No.
He’d always gotten what he wanted.
He was a genius of martial arts.
Desperation had never been there.
But the shape of soone else’s desperation took root deep in An Ho’s heart.
“From now on, I won’t underestimate anyone I face. I’ll et them all earnestly.”
It was the mont An Ho—the one hailed as a once-in-generations genius of the Mount Hua Sect—awoke because of Yeong Myeong.
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