It was absurd that this fool, who had grasped a fair bit about the principles of the Flowing Sword in his excitement, was now recklessly thrusting with a swift sword, forgetting his place and lacking any proper form.
-Clang!
When he lightly batted away Cheong Mu-hak’s sword—which had been aimed directly at his neck with no thought for defense—with the iron club, Cheong Mu-hak’s blade was pushed back more than a foot, and his center of balance wavered.
!!!
Cheong Mu-hak’s eyes widened at the immense force that made his body stagger from just a light parry.
As he lost his balance and stumbled aside with his sword, Mujin took a step and casually walked past him.
-Tap!
Passing him, Mujin tapped his thigh with the club.
-Your lower body is weak, so the sway of a weighted sword throws your entire center off balance. You should focus more on strengthening your legs.
!!!
Though spoken softly, his words were imbued with internal energy and spread throughout the entire Hwajeong Peak.
Cheong Mu-hak, who had spiritedly thrust his sword and slid past, ground his teeth as he steadied his wavering body and turned to look back at Mujin.
Seeing Mujin tapping the palm of one hand with the club while looking at him, Cheong Mu-hak’s face turned crimson, and he lunged forward once more.
Watching Cheong Mu-hak attack with a swift sword again, Mujin shook his head.
-Clang! Tap.
Cheong Mu-hak, who had executed a killing move to slash at the neck, evading the club that had shifted to block the downward strike aimed at his head, couldn’t understand for a moment why his sword had been blocked above Mujin’s head.
His sword, which should have moved around that monstrous club, was stuck to it as if drawn by a magnet.
His opponent, having blocked the sword, then tapped him on the side with his fingertips.
-When your emotions are in your sword, your forms lose their sharpness, and you can’t control your blade properly.
Mujin, deliberately imbuing his words with internal energy to spread them across Hwajeong Peak, once again passed by Cheong Mu-hak with strange footwork.
The sound of Cheong Mu-hak grinding his teeth echoed across the dueling stage as his shoulders and arms began to tremble.
-Ggrrrriind!
Though not from a great family, he had been recognized for his innate martial talent by his master, the Sect Leader of Wudang, and had entered the sect at a young age. Since becoming a disciple, he had never suffered such humiliation.
He had surpassed even the scions of great families and risen to the position of First Disciple of Wudang through skill alone.
He had dedicated his entire life solely to the sword and the martial arts of Wudang.
His achievements were by no means shallow; even the Sect Leader had said that he himself had not comprehended and practiced the Taiji Wisdom Sword so deeply at Cheong Mu-hak’s age.
No matter how great their family, every disciple bowed their head before him and acknowledged him as their First Senior Brother.
The First Disciple of the Wudang Sect, the only one among the first-generation disciples to have been taught the Taiji Wisdom Sword—the Sword Dragon of Wudang, Cheong Mu-hak.
The pride he had built over his 28 years as a martial artist began to crumble.
-Tap. Tap. Tap.
When he turned around, that bastard Hwa Mujin was still tapping his palm with the club.
An expression of boredom and a gaze that suggested he didn’t even register his presence.
“Be… careful. From now on, it will be the Sword of Slaughter.”
With those words, Cheong Mu-hak assumed a ready stance, and a fierce killing intent erupted from his body.
“Hmm.”
“Mm…”
“Dear me.”
“How could…”
The Shaolin elders guarding the four sides of the stage frowned upon feeling his killing intent.
As Cheong Mu-hak’s sword moved in a large circle, unfolding a familiar form, Mujin’s eyebrow twitched.
The Taiji Wisdom Sword.
The path of the sword that the Wudang Sect Leader had used to pierce his heart was now being drawn again, pressing down on him. The feeling was strangely nostalgic.
-Clang! Kang! Thud.
!!!
When the Taiji Wisdom Sword, the pride and ultimate technique of Wudang, was blocked before even two forms could be properly executed, Elder Myeong-hyeon, watching from the VIP seats, shot up from his seat.
Before the arc of the Taiji could be completed, Mujin’s club closed the distance and blocked the sword’s path, effortlessly shutting down his technique.
Mujin, having prevented him from even properly executing the Taiji Wisdom Sword, this time tapped his shoulder with his fingertips as he passed.
-The principle of the Flowing Sword is based on breadth and leisurely magnanimity. It’s disappointing to see your blade filled with such impatient and crude killing intent. It seems your mind is insufficiently cultivated; you should focus more on mental discipline in the future. That makes three moves. I have accepted them all. Will you… continue?
At Mujin’s question, Cheong Mu-hak glared at him with bloodshot eyes.
The words that Mujin had conceded three moves made him feel as if he were plummeting into a bottomless abyss.
He was being treated like a junior by a martial artist five years younger than him.
But even as he was treated this way, there was nothing he could do.
It felt as if everything he had built while focusing solely on the sword was collapsing.
The fact that he was showing such a pathetic side in front of *her* of all people seemed to push him deeper into despair.
-Swish-swish-swish! Vzzzzzzing!
Cheong Mu-hak swung his sword rapidly through the air, and a long hum emanated from the blade as sharp sword ki began to form.
Seeing this display, which far surpassed the realm of Sword Aura, Mujin raised a corner of his lip and spoke.
-There will be no more concessions.
The moment his voice, imbued with internal energy, began to echo across Hwajeong Peak, Cheong Mu-hak’s sword started to move, drawing out a long stream of sword ki.
-CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
!!!
Myeong-hyeon, who had just calmed down and sat back in his seat, shot up again, his eyes wide.
He wasn’t the only one stunned; countless martial artists were shocked at the sight of the sword ki being shattered with a tremendous noise each time Mujin brutally struck it with his iron club.
Was sword ki something that could be beaten and broken?
Unleashing his sword ki, Cheong Mu-hak closed in and thrust his sword at Mujin with considerable ferocity.
-Clang! Thwack!
It was the same situation as the first concession.
Mujin batted away Cheong Mu-hak’s sword, exploited his broken balance, and swung the iron club, smashing it into his thigh.
The only difference from the first time was that the power in his club was incomparably fierce.
“Guh!”
The thigh, where the thickest muscles in the human body are located.
Thicker and more abundant muscles naturally meant more nerves.
A heavy pain spread through his struck leg, sapping its strength. It was a sensation he had never experienced before, and Cheong Mu-hak’s pupils trembled violently.
“I told you. Your lower body is weak.”
Mujin’s words sounded like a sneer to Cheong Mu-hak, who clenched his teeth and swung his sword at Mujin once more.
-Clang! Crack!
“Keoheok!!”
The same scene as the second concession played out again.
After parrying the sword descending toward his head, Mujin smashed his club into Cheong Mu-hak’s side.
The moment of impact, Cheong Mu-hak instinctively knew that several of his ribs had broken.
His breath caught, and the pain caused the corners of his eyes and mouth to droop involuntarily.
Seeing his instinctive, almost tearful expression, the corner of Mujin’s mouth curled up even higher.
‘As expected, there’s a certain satisfaction in beating a naive fool from the Orthodox Faction who knows nothing.’
Disciples from prestigious sects with little real combat experience had rarely known true pain.
Unlike the scoundrels of the Unorthodox Faction who scraped by on the edge of life and death every day, the young disciples of the Orthodox Faction offered a different kind of satisfaction when struck.
Watching their proud, aloof faces contort in agony for the first time in their lives stirred a fierce, violent thirst to torment them even more.
Seeing Mujin’s true nature revealed in his expression right before his eyes, Cheong Mu-hak flinched and managed to catch his breath, stumbling backward.
“Huuuh… Heok… Heok…”
Seeing him retreat with ragged breaths, Mujin’s eyebrows formed a sympathetic V-shape as he spoke.
“Scared just because a few ribs are broken? Tsk, tsk.”
At the same time, Mujin cast a glance toward the two women in the VIP seats.
Seeing this, Cheong Mu-hak let out a yell and charged again.
-Haaah!!!
-Kkakakang! Kakang! Crack!
“Eok…”
This time, the outcome was the same.
Just as he had warned, Mujin completely severed his sword path and smashed Cheong Mu-hak’s shoulder, shattering his collarbone and dislocating the joint.
As his right collarbone broke and his shoulder popped out of its socket, Cheong Mu-hak watched his sword and arm go limp against his will, and he fell to his knees.
“I told you. When I offered a lesson, you should have said ‘thank you’ and withdrawn.”
Mujin had already erased from his mind the fact that he had provoked Cheong Mu-hak into attacking.
Mujin whispered as he looked down at Cheong Mu-hak’s face, contorted in pain as he knelt on the ground, then turned his back and left the stage.
The moment Mujin stepped off the stage, Myeong-hyeon leaped through the air and landed on it.
Seeing his disciple—who had never once shown a disheveled appearance since entering Wudang—in such an unfamiliar state, Myeong-hyeon was momentarily at a loss for words.
The perfect First Disciple of Wudang, who had never received even a common scolding throughout his training and life in the sect.
“Don’t move recklessly.”
Grabbing the shoulder and arm of his disciple who was trying to get up, Myeong-hyeon popped his shoulder back into place.
-Pop!
“Guk!”
As the shoulder snapped back in, the broken collarbone shifted, sending a wave of extreme pain through him.
A groan escaped from Cheong Mu-hak’s tightly clenched jaw.
-Crack!
Having finished the difficult task of setting the collarbone, he carefully laid his disciple down on the stage.
Then, he examined his disciple’s side, which he was clutching tightly.
Myeong-hyeon carefully removed his disciple’s hand and inspected his side, biting his lower lip hard.
Eight of his twelve ribs were broken.
For so many ribs to be broken with a single blow from a club that wasn’t even that wide, it meant that Mujin had used internal energy to concuss his insides at the moment of impact.
And yet, the fact that he hadn’t coughed up blood meant the internal energy had been controlled to avoid damaging his organs—in other words, he had deliberately broken only the bones.
‘What kind of ruthlessness is this…’
But Myeong-hyeon couldn’t go and confront Mujin.
He had already heard more than enough about what Mujin had done to the Eldest Young Master of the Iron Family.
Compared to that, Cheong Mu-hak had only been hit three times.
And at that, they were strikes to the places pointed out as weaknesses during the three conceded moves.
In such a situation, how could he possibly complain that the blows were too severe?
Needlessly confronting Mujin, who had graced the Young Dragon’s Ascent with his participation, would only further damage the reputation of Wudang and Cheong Mu-hak.
“You must endure. It will hurt a lot.”
Saying so, Myeong-hyeon focused his strength into his fingertips and began setting the broken ribs.
-Crack! C-crack! Creak!
“Kngh… Ugh…”
Watching Mu-hak endure with bloodshot eyes wide open, his face flushed crimson and his teeth clenched, Myeong-hyeon felt his heart sink.
He had never imagined that his perfect disciple, the very model of Wudang, would end up in such a state on the joyous day of his victory in the Orthodox Grand Tournament.
As he finished setting the ribs, an elder from the medical hall and two warrior monks rushed onto the stage with a stretcher.
“May I take a look?”
At the question from Great Monk Hyeon-san, the head of the medical hall, Myeong-hyeon nodded and stepped back.
“I’ve set all the bones… but I’m worried, as it’s difficult to immobilize ribs.”
After hearing Myeong-hyeon’s words, Great Monk Hyeon-san, who had been examining Cheong Mu-hak’s injuries, gathered his energy at his fingertips and carefully began striking his pressure points.
After tapping Cheong Mu-hak’s side and collarbone, he let out a deep breath.
“Huuuuu…”
Sweat beaded on his shiny head. He retracted the energy gathered in the two fingers he’d used for the pressure point strikes and finally spoke.
“I have temporarily fixed the bones in place with a bone-setting technique. They could come apart if he overexerts himself… He will need treatment at the medical hall for some time.”
“Yes… Thank you.”
Myeong-hyeon had a gut feeling that the “some time” Great Monk Hyeon-san mentioned would not be a short period at all.
And so, the Sword Dragon of Wudang, Cheong Mu-hak, was carried off the stage on a stretcher.
The audience, who had been watching the stage in stunned silence after his shocking defeat, began to discuss the duel one by one, and in an instant, Hwajeong Peak became noisy.
-Thank you to everyone who has watched the 19th Orthodox Grand Tournament. We will now conclude this tournament!
Originally, after the Young Dragon’s Ascent—the final event of the tournament—there was supposed to be a ceremony to hear the winner’s aspirations and present the Grand Rejuvenation Pill prize. But with Cheong Mu-hak in that state, such events were naturally canceled, and the tournament came to an abrupt end.
Many masters had appeared in this Orthodox Grand Tournament, and among them were quite a few newcomers.
Countless memorable matches worth recounting had taken place, but in the minds of the audience, only the duel between the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan and the Sword Dragon of Wudang remained.
Naturally, their duel became the talk of the town.
The crowds descending Mount Song continued to chatter about the martial prowess of the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan.
His overwhelming martial might and the casual ease with which he had instructed the Sword Dragon of Wudang had left too powerful an impression.
In the end, the one who gained the most fame from this Orthodox Grand Tournament was not the winner, but Mujin, who had not even participated in it.
Returning to the VIP seats, Mujin was greeted by the elders of the Emei and Qingcheng Sects with the brightest of smiles.
“You gave him a fine lesson.”
“Through this, the First Disciple of Wudang will learn to control his emotions. It must have been a good learning experience for him.”
Hearing the elders say such things to him, a man who had just broken ten of another’s bones and dislocated his joint, Mujin nodded with a satisfied smile.
“It will be good medicine for him.”
People from Sichuan were known for their excessive ruthlessness.
The Sichuanese themselves called it the ‘Sichuan spice,’ but other people of the Central Plains did not look favorably upon their heavy-handedness.
-To wreck a man like that in just three hits. Hehehe. So that’s why you went up with a club.
Mujin nodded at the Poison Emperor’s telepathic message.
-If I’d hit him this hard with my sword, he’d be crippled. But with so many eyes watching, I couldn’t just beat him to a pulp like Cheol Yong-un, so I held back quite a bit.
The Poison Emperor, knowing full well that Mujin’s claim of ‘holding back’ was no sarcasm, nodded.
After all, for the price of challenging the Divine Demon, Cheong Mu-hak’s injuries were truly on the light side.
-However, just as that man gifted your grandson a wall to overcome for the rest of his life, I decided to become a wall for him as well.
At Mujin’s continued message, the Poison Emperor shook his head, a deep smile on his face.
“When we descend Mount Song, I would very much like to treat you to a cup of tea and have a chat. What do you say?”
The elder from the Qingcheng Sect was completely smitten with Hwa Mujin, a fellow Sichuanese and the Family Head of the Yeomhwa Family.
His dignity as the head of a martial family, belying his young age, and his typically Sichuanese ruthlessness.
And above all, his manly spirit was truly magnificent.
He was the kind of man you would definitely want as a son-in-law if you had a daughter.
Mujin glanced for a moment at the two maids standing behind Seomun Jin-hui before nodding.
“Of course. Why don’t we all descend the mountain together and talk? The Abbesses and everyone else who watched the tournament with us should all come along.”
At Mujin’s words, the women of the Emei Sect and Seomun Jin-hui nodded in unison.
No-sak, who was completely captivated by Seomun Jin-hui’s charm, couldn’t hide his smile at the news that she would be joining them.
