Chapter 431
## Chapter 431. The Wings of the South (1)
—
An immense multitude of individuals converged upon the Tae-eul Sect.
Rather than being genuinely drawn to the reopening ceremony of the Tae-eul Sect itself, the vast majority had journeyed there to catch a glimpse of the renowned luminaries present at the gathering. These were people seeking to forge even a minor bond with the eminent figures by capitalising on this occasion. Nevertheless, outwardly, they arrived to offer congratulations to the Tae-eul Sect. The offerings they brought along were plentiful enough to pack an entire stable completely to the roof.
Naturally, it was entirely out of the question for them to obtain a place anywhere near the Alliance Leader, the Chief Tactician, or the Great Poisoner. Possessing a fair share of social awareness, they contentedly settled for merely catching someone’s eye or recognizing familiar countenances from afar.
Moyong-gang, being a person entirely unfamiliar with such social gatherings, drifted through the area searching for Jin So-un to escape the thick of the crowds. On the other hand, the remaining three figures adroitly managed their respective duties, maintaining the honour of the Tae-eul Sect. These interactions served as a process through which the Tae-eul Sect could re-establish its standing in the eyes of the public.
On the morning of the reopening ceremony, an abundance of guests observed the proceedings with a deeply respectful demeanor.
Moyong-gang, Namgung Tae-ha, Hyeok Mu-gang, Jegal So-myeong, and Wang Geum-san.
The striking sight of these five titans seated together in the visitor area of the Tae-eul Sect stirred a peculiar sentiment among those watching.
“I wish to utilize this moment to express my deepest appreciation to the fellow companions of the Jianghu who have graced the reopening ceremony of this modest sect.”
Each of these individuals occupied a rank where they typically would have issued directives to the Tae-eul Sect, rather than traveling personally to convey their blessings at such an event.
“For an extended duration, the Tae-eul Sect remained behind closed doors due to internal matters, and as a result, we have neglected the obligations we should have carried out.”
Even so, those eminent individuals displayed a far more reverent bearing and posture than anyone else present at the gathering. This state of affairs induced a palpable sense of apprehension among the remaining attendees.
“The Tae-eul Sect has finally completed its preparations and will henceforth keep its gates open. We shall not shirk the duties before us and will shoulder our responsibilities.”
Even those attendees who would ordinarily indulge in drink or spark disruptions at another’s gathering maintained their focus and remained respectful, naturally swayed by the gravity of the environment being established.
“The period of seclusion for the Tae-eul Sect has drawn to a close. As such—”
The students of the Tae-eul Sect, dressed in their ceremonial attire for the occasion, struggled to restrain the powerful waves of emotion swelling from the depths of their souls.
“I hereby proclaim the opening of the gates!”
When those doors had first been shut, few understood why. Even if they had, they scarcely cared.
And yet.
“Wooooooo—!”
Behold the present hour.
A deafening torrent of acclamation and clapping resonated so forcefully that it felt as though the very structures of the Tae-eul Sect might give way. This was no longer the Tae-eul Sect of bygone days. Rather, it was a transformed Tae-eul Sect.
Past those entryways, hundreds of martial artists tarried solely for the conclusion of the reopening ceremony, yet at this very moment, the members of the Tae-eul Sect harbored no dread of them. Precisely as Hong Mun-gi had declared, regardless of what lay ahead, the Tae-eul Sect would never shutter its gates again.
—
The daylight hours filled with ceaseless melodies and the night watches where the lanterns never flickered out persisted for three entire days. A continuous stream of guests arrived and departed, feasting upon spirits and fine dishes. Even though the events celebrating the reopening were drawing to a close, the throngs did not depart from the Tae-eul Sect. In truth, they found themselves unable to walk away.
For the genuine spectacle was only just beginning.
A contest of martial prowess.
An Infinite Martial Arts Competition (Muhan Bimun).
It was quite ordinary for a martial contest, meant to serve as entertainment alongside wine, to take place during a clan’s celebratory festival. Yet, an ‘Infinite’ tournament that welcomed every single applicant without exception was a rare phenomenon. Consequently, those who had journeyed to the Tae-eul Sect were even less inclined to turn back. It was an authentic chance to witness the true potential of the Tae-eul Sect, which had been generating considerable talk within the Jianghu of late.
Furthermore, the widespread speculation that the outcome would be grim only served to inflame the public’s fascination.
The downfall of a champion.
The rise of a champion inspires feelings of deep respect while simultaneously raising expectations. Conversely, the ruin of a champion who was viewed as nearly godlike yields an even sharper satisfaction, as it demonstrates that the figure of awe is, when all is said and done, merely an ordinary mortal like themselves.
Rather than reaching toward the distant stars in the firmament above, human nature longs to drag those very stars down into the dirt. It was a fundamental human drive. Whether they were souls who rooted for the Tae-eul Sect or detractors who begrudged its rise, witnessing its foreseen ruin with their own eyes offered greater amusement than any other pastime.
“Are you certain of yourself?”
I was eventually cornered by the senior master, Moyong-gang. To put it accurately, he discerned my exact location and tracked me down like a phantom.
“I fear that onlookers might criticize the Patriarch of the Moyong Family for behaving like a common prowler scaling estate boundaries.”
“Cut out the nonsensical talk.”
I attempted to deflect the blame with a few casual words, but as anticipated, this elder gentleman possessed no concern for propriety or reputation. Had he not been born into a highly respected Orthodox lineage, would this individual not have likely ended up as the Supreme Leader of the Wicked Cult? Or perhaps he would have turned into an outlaw of the Jianghu and met his end long ago?
“What sort of plot are you hatching to create such a massive disturbance?”
“Must I always have a plot in mind? To begin with, this reopening was hardly an event we pursued by choice.”
“If you lacked a plot, what cause would you have to employ old-timers like myself as a decorative backdrop?”
“Come now, who would dare cast you as a decorative backdrop, Elder?”
He was uttering absolute nonsense. Where on earth could one find a backdrop that drew more attention than the host himself?
“Do you truly intend to keep throwing yourself into combat until you face defeat?”
Moyong-gang tilted his chin as though he genuinely found the matter incomprehensible. This is precisely why heirs of aristocratic lineages are so difficult to deal with.
“The Tae-eul Sect is scarcely a dominant and massive organization like the Moyong Family, so why must you assume we are obligated to triumph every single time?”
“I am demanding to know why you choose to engage in battle when you are fully aware that failure awaits you.”
In truth, the Moyong-gang of my previous life had locked blades with the Demonic Cult despite knowing he would suffer defeat. Even while fully aware that his household would face annihilation, he went so far as to expose the entirety of the Moyong Family’s secret techniques to the wider Jianghu. Human beings are truly full of contradictions. To think that a man who presently values the face and standing of his house above all else would one day offer up himself and everything his family owned to the Jianghu.
“Throughout centuries of inheritance, has the Moyong Family never once tasted defeat or witnessed its domain diminish?”
“…….”
“The resolve to persist in battle even after suffering loss upon loss. The grit to take yet another step forward regardless of how diminished the household becomes. Does that not demonstrate precisely what heritage and history represent? I was taught that such a path is how one builds a truly Great Family.”
Moyong-gang’s eyelids flickered open wide for an instant. Before long, he drifted into deep reflection, as though submerging into his thoughts. I only wished he would conduct his brooding somewhere far from my sight.
“Good grief… I cannot discern if the soil itself is rich or if the branch simply sprouted exceptionally well.”
Moyong-gang muttered phrases of ambiguous intent.
“When I cast my gaze toward the Old Tae-eul Hall, I detected a peculiar ‘aberration’ lingering there. Could it be that you had no intention of employing that individual?”
When had he managed to notice that?
“What sort of person do you take me for, honestly.”
“…….”
“Do you intend to persist with this behavior?”
It was a comment bordering on disrespect, but if I refrained from pressing him to this degree, this gentleman simply would not grasp the point.
“Ahem! If that is not the case, then simply say so; why must you lose your temper and make a scene! In any event, you had best bear in mind that you owe me a significant favor.”
At any rate, it appeared he grasped my meaning. On account of that interaction, a prominent swelling appeared on my forehead, and the hidden Elder I had readied just in case became entirely unavailable for use.
‘He provides no assistance whatsoever.’
—
The interior of the Great Training Ground, which had served as the hall for the feast, was swept entirely clean. The people who had been indulging in the celebration relocated toward the rear of the courtyard. Those unable to secure a proper bench took up spots atop the rooftops and boundary walls. Although the Tae-eul Sect had expanded its grounds during the recent rebuilding, it remained a challenge to house the massive influx of observers who had suddenly poured in, so their positioning went unhindered.
“We shall commence the martial arts competition.”
The initial individual to step onto the dueling platform was Geum-pyo. Jin So-un murmured softly near the back of the trembling Geum-pyo’s neck.
“I recently acquired a peculiar binding technique (Geum-je). It acts as a constraint that resembles a miraculous stroke of fortune (Giyeon) through which you can invariably advance by an entire realm, provided you simply withstand the process.”
“……So suddenly out of nowhere?”
“Should you fail to overcome ten challengers, I shall grant that ‘miraculous stroke of fortune’ upon your person.”
“…….”
Geum-pyo’s frame shuddered at the reassurance offered by his **Dae-sahyeong**, which felt as vast and inescapable as the deep ocean.
‘Confound it, what sort of unnatural art did he pick up this time?’
Had there ever been a solitary instance where the **Dae-sahyeong**, delivering such words, introduced a standard method of practice? A stroke of fortune, what absolute nonsense. It was bound to be an ordeal… no, a regimen where one had to survive agonizing torment to the point of craving demise while balancing on the precipice between life and death. His companions back at the Murim Academy had even lost their tempers, warning him to stop fabricating tales when they caught wind of the Tae-eul Sect’s conditioning methods. They demanded to know why any sane person would willingly endure such grotesque exercises. Consequently, the sentiment he regularly shared with Eun-ho was that leaping off a random precipice was far preferable to accepting the ‘miraculous stroke of fortune’ their **Dae-sahyeong** frequently offered.
“Phew…….”
His pulse, which had been hammering wildly from nervousness, steadily began to steady. For the **Dae-sahyeong** to specify ten individuals while discussing a ‘miraculous stroke of fortune,’ did that not imply he already possessed the caliber of martial skill required to best ten opponents after all?
Step, step, step.
The initial challenger of the tournament advanced from the opposing side. A towering stature of six feet, a heavily muscled frame, a ruggedly overgrown beard, and a massive Taegam saber. Even the raw combat intent radiating from his entire form matched the exact archetype of a genuine ‘warrior’ that Geum-pyo had envisioned throughout his youth.
*Gulp.*
To think I must confront ten individuals of this caliber……. Can I truly accomplish such a feat?
Sensing an intense stare, he shifted his gaze.
*Sliiiide—*
There stood the **Dae-sahyeong**, sporting a grin while sliding his thumb smoothly across his own throat.
Binding, a stroke of fortune, advancement…….
‘Perishing right here might be the wiser choice.’
His vanishing resolve ignited fiercely once more.
“The second-generation student of the Tae-eul Sect, Lee Geum-pyo, requests a match!”
The moment he pressed his hands together in a traditional martial greeting, his challenger grimaced.
“Are you relying on a shield?”
“Pardon? Ah…… yes.”
“A novice who has not even mastered the fundamentals.”
“…….”
What in the world was he implying? The fundamentals……. Was what he practiced while enduring beatings from the **Dae-sahyeong** every single day not considered the fundamentals? Before he could even voice the genuine question of what specific detail made him appear lacking in foundational skill.
“Aaaaaah!”
The challenger roared in fury as though he had suffered an insult. His combat robes billowed as if they might split open, and the Taegam saber swung in a massive, sweeping arc.
It was peculiar. If he exposed such an immense vulnerability, would he not invite an immediate counterstrike?
‘Ah! He is displaying an opening deliberately!’
Geum-pyo lowered his center of gravity while hoisting the Geumgang-pae to a higher guard. For the time being, he needed to ascertain the specific martial style his opponent utilized.
And yet,
“Thousand-Jin Pressing Strike!”
The challenger obligingly revealed the intended path of the Taegam saber by bellowing the name of the movement aloud. Amused by that display, Geum-pyo angled the Geumgang-pae diagonally while remaining highly skeptical, deflecting the trajectory of the oncoming blade.
*Thud.*
The Taegam saber bit into the dirt, its force effectively guided away. And in that precise heartbeat, Geum-pyo caught it. He witnessed the expression of the ‘warrior’ whose eyes were wide with sheer bewilderment. It was, without a shadow of doubt.
‘……Are you genuinely startled?’
It was a countenance overtaken by profound shock and dread.
*Swish.*
Driven by reflex, he unleashed the Hwanyeong-gak. His physical form operated entirely on instinct. It was an action deep-seated within him from his relentless duels with the **Dae-sahyeong**. For if he neglected to extend his leg during such a clear vulnerability, the **Dae-sahyeong**’s unyielding strikes would have come raining down upon him.
*Bang!*
Accompanied by a sharp, resonant strike.
*Whoosh—*
The form of the six-foot-tall martial artist soared through the air, clearing the bounds of the combat stage. Immediately afterward.
*Crash!*
The warrior slammed violently against a three-hundred-year-old tree rooted in the Tae-eul Sect’s outer courtyard and lost consciousness on the spot.
“…….”
An icy quietude enveloped the grounds, resembling the hush following a sudden downpour. Everyone present stared at him with bewildered expressions. Only then did Geum-pyo comprehend that he had blundered, and he belatedly bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“Hwa, Hwanyeong-sura-gak!”
“…….”
He had exclusively participated in life-or-death struggles; this marked his very first appearance in an authorized martial tournament. He was entirely oblivious to the elementary practice of needing to call out the name of one’s technique. Yet, even though he had belatedly corrected his oversight, the mood of the gathering showed no indication of shifting easily.
“That…… I offer my apologies. I was unaware that declaring the technique’s name was required…….”
The instant he frantically lowered his head in an apology.
*Step—*
Gang Chae-seok, acting as the official overseer, stepped forward and hoisted Geum-pyo’s arm high.
“Lee Geum-pyo of the Tae-eul Sect claims victory!”
Simultaneously.
“Waaaaaaa!”
A deafening burst of cheers thundered from the ranks of the Tae-eul Sect’s disciples. Shortly thereafter, applause and celebratory shouts began to cascade from the crowd of onlookers as well. What sort of situation had this developed into…….
“Geum-pyo.”
At that moment, Gang Chae-seok murmured in a low tone near the ear of Geum-pyo, who was surveying his surroundings with a thoroughly bewildered expression.
“Regardless of it being an official match, there is absolutely no requirement to yell out the name of your technique.”
Geum-pyo’s face flushed as crimson as a sun-ripened fruit.
