“Gah!”
A scream escaped his lips as Cheol Yong-un, who had been trying to rise, found his back bent like a sickle.
His mind was in a daze.
As a martial artist on the cusp of mastery, awaiting his breakthrough, he had never imagined experiencing something like this.
He was twenty-eight this year.
This Orthodox Grand Tournament, held every five years, was his last.
Since only disciples under the age of thirty could participate, he had climbed Mount Song with the firm resolve to win this time.
Indeed, Cheol Yong-un was a strong contender for victory in this tournament.
For years, pundits had been predicting a three-way battle between the Wudang Sword Dragon Cheong Mu-hak, the Shaolin Mystic Fist Hae Bo-un, and the Single Sword Flash Cheol Yong-un.
The watching martial artists were left speechless at the sight of such a master being beaten so thoroughly without being able to put up a fight.
*‘Wh-what kind of martial art is that…?’*
“Ugh!”
The brutish iron sword, wrapped in cloth.
No matter how desperately he tried to dodge the sword that flew at him, cutting through the air with its flat side rather than its edge, it struck his body as if guided by a phantom.
Even when he raised his own sword to block, the large blade would evade his like a ghost and press into his guard.
Moreover, as Mujin’s iron sword struck him, miraculously avoiding all his vital points, a flicker of fear began to appear in Cheol Yong-un’s eyes.
*Thwack! Thud!*
The only reason Cheol Yong-un could endure the beating was that Mujin was controlling the force of his sword.
And this fact was not lost on Cheol Yong-un, who was taking the blows, or the masters from the three great factions watching.
But no one could intervene between Mujin and Cheol Yong-un.
*Crack!*
“Bleeaargh!”
Dodging Cheol Yong-un’s wild swing, Mujin reversed his grip and slammed the steel pommel of his sword directly into his opponent’s solar plexus.
As Cheol Yong-un vomited up everything he had eaten for breakfast, the flat of Mujin’s sword struck his back once more.
*Thump!*
Cheol Yong-un collapsed face-first into his own vomit.
But he had no capacity to worry about the filth on his face.
The blow to his solar plexus had knocked the wind out of him, leaving him unable to breathe properly, and he could only writhe on the ground in agony.
“What an idiot. To withstand that, you have to inhale and tense your abdomen before the hit. He took it on an exhale.”
No-sak, who had often been on the receiving end of Mujin’s blows, muttered to himself.
“Wouldn’t it be better to just dodge it, then?”
Soyeon chimed in, having overheard No-sak’s muttering.
No-sak looked at her and shook his head.
“Once the Family Head aims for a spot, dodging is impossible, Young Lady. You just have to brace your stomach, endure the blow, and look for an opening afterward.”
While the two were having this conversation, Mujin’s beating continued.
*Whack!*
Struck on the back again, Cheol Yong-un finally managed to gasp for air, his breath ragged with pain, but Mujin simply continued to wield his sword with an indifferent expression.
Cheol Yong-un was now lying on the ground, completely unable to get up.
Seeing him mercilessly strike Cheol Yong-un’s entire body, Taoist Jasa could watch no longer and stepped forward.
“Stop your hand!”
Mujin didn’t even glance at Jasa, who was using his movement technique to close in and pressure him, and continued to swing his iron sword.
Just as Jasa reached him, the flat of Mujin’s sword snapped Cheol Yong-un’s jaw to the side, and a shower of white chunks flew from his mouth.
The white fragments shot out precisely toward the approaching Jasa.
Jasa elegantly waved his hand through the air.
*Whoosh!*
Seeing Mujin continue to swing his sword even though he was right in front of him, a vein bulged on Jasa’s forehead as he thrust a fist toward the flat of Mujin’s blade.
In that instant, Mujin’s sword rapidly changed its path and shot toward Jasa.
!!!
Jasa, who had intended to strike the sword with his Seven Injuries Fist, felt a chill run down his spine as he saw the iron sword rapidly change course and fly toward his face.
He had only meant to stop the sword.
He had no intention of harming Mujin.
That was why he had used a basic stance of the Seven Injuries Fist, but Mujin’s sword path had perfectly countered it.
It was the first time since reaching mastery that Jasa had felt such a moment of terrifying weakness.
*Swish!*
“-Ah!”
“-Th-that!”
“-Gasp!”
As Mujin’s sword passed by Jasa’s face without stopping, surprised cries erupted from all around.
Jasa stared at Mujin, who held the sword extended, having just brushed past his ear.
*‘I couldn’t react? Me?’*
Shocked, he finally recalled the words of Ja-yul, who had lost to Hwa Mujin and had not been seen since.
-“If we cannot break his sword path, there is no future for Kongtong.”
He had thought it was just a fluke loss to a young brat barely past his coming-of-age.
It hadn’t been a serious, formal duel anyway, had it?
It was merely a spar with a 30-move limit.
So he hadn’t understood why Ja-yul would speak of Kongtong’s future over such a minor defeat.
Until he had just witnessed Mujin’s strike.
*‘A counter… That’s it!’*
He could think of no other explanation.
It had exploited the breathing rhythm of the Seven Injuries Fist, making it impossible to react.
If he, a master, was like this, it was only natural that Cheol Yong-un, still a first-rate warrior, would be utterly crushed.
“How dare you interfere in a duel that has not concluded? Does being from Kongtong give you that right?”
At Mujin’s question, delivered while his sword was still extended, Jasa finally came to his senses and took a step back.
The aura emanating from Mujin’s body was so intense that he had acted unconsciously.
“Th-the outcome has been decided. This is just one-sided violence!”
“This duel is not one to be decided by victory or defeat.”
With those words, Mujin retracted his sword and looked around.
Countless martial artists were gathered, their faces filled with astonishment.
“Many of my fellow martial artists here have surely heard my nickname, the Mad Lord!”
As Mujin suddenly raised his voice, not only Jasa but the other Kongtong Taoists also furrowed their brows.
“And those of you who know are aware of why I earned such a derisive nickname.”
Not just the martial artists from Sichuan, but most others nodded in understanding.
The Yeomhwa Family, which had appeared like a comet thanks to the outstanding master known as the Flame Emperor, and its subsequent fall, were naturally the subject of much gossip.
Therefore, the story of Hwa Mujin going mad after being struck by the Seven Injuries Fist was no secret.
“Seventeen years ago, I was struck in the head by a lay disciple of Kongtong using the Seven Injuries Fist. For seventeen years after that, I suffered from madness. And today. Again! Someone who calls himself a lay disciple of Kongtong used the Seven Injuries Fist on my young brother. What grudge does Kongtong hold against my family that you seek to sever the Hwa family line?!”
At Mujin’s thunderous accusation, Jasa was momentarily speechless.
For a moment, the opponent staring him down, exuding a tremendous aura, felt not like a young martial artist but a seasoned veteran of the martial world.
“I-it wasn’t out of a grudge, but a misunderstanding between children…”
“Between children? A misunderstanding? An ‘accident’ between children cost me seventeen years! I had put the past behind me after my duel with Cheongbo-do and did not wish to bring it up again, but how can that past event be repeated here, at the great Shaolin Temple of all places? Is this also a misunderstanding, a children’s squabble?”
“…”
The situation was damning.
All the circumstances worked against them.
Hearing the murmurs of the crowd, Jasa began to break out in a cold sweat.
This should never have escalated to a duel in the first place.
The issue he had tried to bury with a single word—”mistake”—when he first appeared had now been dragged back into the light by his own intervention in the duel.
“If you have a mouth, then speak! I am asking you if it was a mere accident that the youngest son of the Cheol family, a lay family of Kongtong, provoked my brothers and then struck them from behind with the Seven Injuries Fist!”
“I-it is a coincidence… but yes. It was just a misunderstanding.”
“So sending a peak master to pressure us during our conflict with the Cheonghwa Merchant Guild in Ssangnyu was also a misunderstanding? Driving me to madness was an accident, and today’s events are another accident born from a misunderstanding?”
“…”
Seeing Mujin suddenly bring up the incident in Ssangnyu, Jasa desperately wanted to shut him up.
But there was no way.
In this situation, if he made a wrong move, he would surely incur the wrath of countless orthodox martial artists, even if he managed to defeat the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan.
*‘H-how did things get like this…?’*
*‘I’ve had more than my fill of you orthodox bastards and your verbal sparring. You think I can’t do this much?’*
During his time as the Divine Demon, he had countless experiences with the Nine Great Sects’ methods of twisting logic to fabricate justifications and brand people as villains.
Back then, he would have simply split the heads of those spouting nonsense, but since he couldn’t do that now, Mujin was using their own tactics against them.
“This duel is between the Yeomhwa Family and the Cheol Family. I made that line clear. Furthermore, we agreed not to hold any grudges after this duel! I thought I needed an apology from the eldest son of the Cheol Family so that no resentment would linger in my heart. And yet you interfere again. What is your intention? This is a matter of honor between our two families, where neither can object even if lives are lost. Is Kongtong saying it’s fine to trample all over the honor of our Yeomhwa Family?”
Mujin said, narrowing his eyes as his aura intensified.
“…That…”
No matter how he tried, the words wouldn’t come out.
In an instant, a duel that had started from a children’s fight had transformed into one where the honor and lives of two families were at stake.
But Jasa had told Cheol Yong-un that he could kill Hwa Mujin if he had the chance.
Because of that, he couldn’t refute a single word Mujin said.
“Enough. Cheol Yong-un! Listen well. As the head of the Yeomhwa Family, I will never forget what happened today! If any martial artist from the Cheol Family ever crosses paths with my family again, one of our two families will have to disappear from the Central Plains!”
!!!
At Mujin’s declaration of war, people stared at him with shocked eyes.
Just because they belonged to the same orthodox faction didn’t mean there were no disputes.
How could there not be fights among martial artists?
The martial world was a place where fights constantly broke out, sometimes over interests, sometimes over pride.
But even among the orthodox factions, where fights had their limits, it was rare for someone to make a declaration of war with a family’s existence on the line.
However, no one thought Mujin’s words were excessive.
They knew his past all too well.
The seventeen years he lost living as the Mad Lord.
Knowing full well how the Yeomhwa Family had fallen during that time, they could not possibly criticize his reaction as an overreaction.
-He definitely crossed a line when he forced that confrontation.
-And he’s not even that young for a child of an orthodox martial family. Tsk, tsk.
-What kind of upbringing did he have to turn out like that?
Mujin opened his mouth for one last word to Jasa.
“It is said, ‘The lesson of one classic.’ Do not forget it.”
With the words of the sages—that it is better to teach a child a single classic text than to leave them gold—Mujin turned away.
“Let’s go.”
Exuding a frigid air, Mujin strode confidently back toward the guest hall.
The crowd of onlookers parted like the sea to let him pass.
No-sak, his two younger siblings, and Masok followed behind him.
“Amitabha. It seems Kongtong has already forgotten the lesson of the Divine Demon’s mutual destruction.”
With those words, Great Monk Hyeon-u also turned and followed Mujin.
“Taoist Master Jasa. I am greatly disappointed. Have you forgotten the oath you made to the Righteous Heart Assembly when your fifteen-year seclusion was lifted? You should deeply ponder the words of Family Head Hwa, ‘The lesson of one classic’.”
After saying this, Abbess Jinhwa, radiating a frosty aura, also turned and followed Mujin.
The disciples of the Emei Sect hurried after her.
Jeong Su-ae, the Divine Beauty of the Central Plains, also gave Cheol Yong-un a brief, indifferent glance before walking away.
His plan to win the Orthodox Grand Tournament and propose to Jeong Su-ae in front of everyone now shattered, Cheol Yong-un could only watch her retreating back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Taoist Jasa unclenched his fist, stared at the bloody teeth of Cheol Yong-un in his palm, and finally spoke.
“We are returning… to Kongtong.”
With those words, the Taoists of Kongtong left Mount Song.
Needless to say, the Cheol Family descended the mountain right after them.
Among the Kongtong Sect’s Taoists, four martial artists were set to participate in the main tournament.
But because of this incident, they all had to forfeit the tournament and turn back.
The Orthodox Grand Tournament, which an orthodox martial artist could participate in at most three times, or as few as twice, in their lifetime, was a grand opportunity to showcase their skills and make a name for themselves.
Even as Kongtong gave up such an opportunity and descended Mount Song, no good words were spoken of them among the crowd.
-The Kongtong Sect has lost both benevolence and righteousness.
The rumor, spread by word of mouth among the martial artists who witnessed the event, quickly circulated throughout Mount Song.
Naturally, the rumor began to leak to the visitors who had come to Mount Song to see the tournament brackets.
Whenever Kongtong was mentioned, the story of the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan, Hwa Mujin, inevitably followed.
-The Flame Emperor has returned to Sichuan.
The image of the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan delivering a thunderous command without batting an eye before Sword Emperor Jasa, known as the Sword of Kongtong, was vividly etched into people’s minds.
In particular, the move that effectively defeated Cheol Yong-un, a top contender for the tournament championship, in a single blow, and the single sword strike that stopped Jasa, elevated people’s assessment of the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan by several levels.
-With skills like that, why didn’t he participate in the Orthodox Grand Tournament?
-Friend, can’t you see? He’s clearly at a level where he wouldn’t find a worthy opponent in the tournament. He must have thought winning would just be interfering in a fight between lesser warriors. With the skill to defeat the Single Sword Flash in one blow, could he really find a match in the Orthodox Grand Tournament?
-He’d give up the tournament for a reason like that? The fame he’d get from winning would be immense!
-Do you take the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan for a petty man obsessed with mere fame? When he delivered that thunderous command to Taoist Master Jasa, I saw in him the bearing of a great hero.
Wherever one went on Mount Song, the talk of the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan, Hwa Mujin, was endless.
