Two shichen had passed since the third-round main matches began.
The time felt even longer because all we could do was sit and watch. And yet—
“Waaaaaaah—!!”
The surroundings were still filled with fervor.
Boom—! Bang-bang—!
“Hyaaah!”
A fierce spectacle of internal energy, raging like a typhoon.
The resounding shouts and the clashing of blades scattering through the air.
Even as the color of the sky gradually changed, the momentum remained undiminished.
“Windstorm Fist…. I had only heard rumors. He truly is a formidable martial artist.”
“…I would very much like to cross fists with him someday.”
“Someone of the Calamity Sword’s caliber would surely be worth fighting with all one’s strength.”
Some watched the martial artists’ duels while gathering information, as though admiring them.
Perhaps because everyone around us had participated in the Martial Arts Tournament, their eyes for assessing others were exceptional.
Moreover, making it all the way to the third-round main matches meant they were considerable experts. Merely watching them would bring one enlightenment.
That was why the martial artists did not lose their enthusiasm despite sitting there for such a long time.
It was also why the spectators did not tire and continued to cheer: they were able to watch duels between such masters.
Of course.
‘This is boring.’
From my perspective, this was nothing more than a tedious schedule.
The reason was simple.
‘The gap between them is way too wide.’
For one thing, the realms of the opponents matched against each other were far too disproportionate.
I had watched for two shichen, so I had seen several martial artists in the Transcendent Realm. But some of them had been paired with opponents who were exceptionally weak.
Perhaps because they could feel the difference in realms, there was not much desperation to be found.
If anything, having encountered a stronger opponent seemed to make them think they might as well learn as much as they could.
‘What is this, a training duel?’
It was no fun.
There was no killing intent, nor could I feel any desperation or tragic determination.
Of course, since these were duels, perhaps this was how things ought to be….
‘Still, it’s so dull.’
Watching something like that only made me yawn.
‘…I must really have gone mad.’
I found peaceful duels boring.
Did that mean I would have to watch them beat each other bloody and fight to the death for it to be entertaining?
‘That is true.’
Imagining it, that did seem more fun.
‘Yes, I really must have gone mad.’
I must have lived wrong—very wrong.
I turned my gaze and looked to the side.
The Poison Fist, Dang Soyeol, and the Crescent Moon Sword, Wi Seol-a, were sitting quietly and watching the duels.
Neither of their expressions looked particularly lively, either.
The one difference between them and me was that they showed at least a little interest.
‘Well, I suppose.’
Since both were martial artists who had reached the Transcendent Realm, a somewhat lukewarm reaction was only natural.
And so, two shichen had already passed.
‘At this rate, Moyong Huia or Namgung Bia might have been better.’
Moyong Huia was experiencing the busiest days since the Martial Arts Tournament began.
The merchant groups had been set in motion by the martial artists who had revealed themselves after remaining hidden, and the Hundred Blossoms Merchant Association had begun moving as a result. Thus, Moyong Huia, its branch master, had become busy as well.
Namgung Bia, on the other hand, had simply dropped out, saying that it looked like it would be boring.
Remembering this, I belatedly felt a slight pang of regret.
‘I should have just trained.’
Why had I come here to watch this?
‘If it weren’t for that bastard Seongyul, I wouldn’t have come out.’
I had been bothered by the way he acted as though something was going on, so I had come to check on him. But it seemed I really had not needed to come.
‘If I had left him alone, he would have taken care of it himself.’
I had even told myself to leave him alone, so why had I gone and meddled like this?
‘Especially when I told Cheol Jiseon not to do anything so worthless.’
A contradictory action.
The fact that I knew it all too well only made me feel more uncomfortable.
“Hm.”
I was letting out a faint breath through my nose, still feeling unsettled, when—
“Next.”
The preceding duel ended, and martial artists appeared for the next match.
Only then did I slightly straighten my posture.
A telepathic message had reached me.
—Your posture. Sit up straight. It’s bad for your back.
“…”
Though I furrowed my brow, I obeyed.
“Waaaaaaaaah—!!”
A middle-aged man with a massive build emerged from the entrance.
An enormous cheer erupted at once.
It was probably the most anticipated match of the day.
“It’s the Blade King!”
The Blade King, Paeng Jeowoo.
The head of the Paeng Family, the guardian of Hebei.
And the arrival of one of the Six Seats said to exist in the Central Plains.
—Waaaaaah!
A deafening cheer poured forth the instant he appeared.
Paeng Jeowoo continued walking in silence despite hearing the cheers.
Boom—! Boom—!
A tremor spread with each step.
The scene looked as though an earthquake had struck the surrounding area.
The spectators seemed to take delight in it and cheered even louder.
“Incredible! Is this… the power of the head of one of the Four Great Families?”
“Such tremors from merely walking!”
While everyone was marveling, I had no choice but to make a face as though I had bitten into dung after hearing them.
‘As if it’s only from walking.’
Feeling the heat around me, I cursed inwardly.
That old man really hadn’t changed at all.
‘He’s doing the exact same thing as during the preliminaries.’
He seemed to have internal energy to spare, since he was blasting it in every direction.
“…Good grief.”
“Mm.”
Dang Soyeol and Wi Seol-a let out low groans when they saw this.
They even turned their gazes away, as though they could not bear to watch.
That was nothing more than a show of strength. Anyone who had reached a certain level could not fail to recognize such behavior.
The fortunate thing was—
“Waaaaaaaaah—!”
Judging by the reaction, it seemed to be working.
The Blade King released his internal energy as he walked up onto the arena.
Someone followed quietly behind him. Naturally, my gaze fixed on that person.
A handsome young man dressed entirely in black, from head to toe.
The Tyrant Venerable wearing the mask of the Dragon Fighter.
Pae Jon walked with his hands clasped behind his back, hiding amidst the cheers for the Blade King.
“…”
Even as he walked, Pae Jon’s gaze remained fixed on me.
He had found me at once despite the countless people gathered here.
He had even sent a telepathic message before coming out, which meant he had sensed me from beyond the wall.
‘What a terrifying old man.’
His perceptive abilities were frighteningly sharp.
Then, voices arose around me.
“The Blade King’s opponent is the Dragon Fighter, isn’t he?”
“The Dragon Fighter… You mean the one said to be Pae Jon’s successor?”
“That’s right. He’s been famous lately.”
They were speaking about Bi Uijin. I found myself listening closely.
“I don’t think he’s shown anything particularly impressive in this tournament. Are those rumors really true?”
“If they weren’t, would he have openly brought Pae Jon’s letter of recommendation? Besides, if he’s already made it this far, that alone is sufficient proof.”
“Still, considering who his opponent is…. It’s just a shame.”
“That is true.”
The successor of Pae Jon.
The expectations that came with that title were beyond imagination.
It was a testament to how immensely the Three Venerables influenced the orthodox faction.
But.
Even such expectations had their realistic limits.
“His opponent is the Blade King, after all.”
“You never know. Just look at the Crescent Moon Sword…. The Dragon Fighter may also have reached an extraordinary level.”
At the mention of her title, Wi Seol-a’s ears twitched slightly.
She appeared to be listening.
As Wi Seol-a and the Divine Dragon had shown, even a younger-generation martial artist could be an incredible master.
That was what they were discussing, but—
“Haha… That may be true. However.”
The reactions of the martial artists who heard this were skeptical.
“No matter what…. His opponent is the Blade King.”
“Hmm.”
His opponent was the Blade King.
That single fact erased every possibility.
The Blade King.
One of the Six Seats who currently existed in the Central Plains.
The Sword King of the Namgung Family.
The Blade King of the Paeng Family.
The Poison King of the Tang Clan.
The Sword Empress of Mount Hua.
Along with the unaffiliated Flame King and the Bright Empress of Xizang.
The six figures who exerted tremendous influence over the Central Plains were called the Six Seats.
They were designated based on their standing and presence in their respective fields, but even though the position was not chosen solely through martial strength, that did not mean they were weak.
Every one of them was a powerful martial artist.
‘I don’t know much about the Flame King or the Bright Empress. But they’re probably strong.’
Even setting aside those I had never seen in my previous life—
They were all formidable people.
‘Even if they aren’t on the level of the Ten Great Masters.’
They were martial artists who had each entered their prime. None of them could be underestimated.
The Divine Dragon and the Crescent Moon Sword had reached the Transcendent Realm?
That was certainly astonishing.
But reaching the level of the Six Seats based on that alone was impossible.
That was the common perception.
‘Yes, merely a simple perception.’
They might be disciples of the Three Venerables, but they were still only disciples.
They could not reach the Blade King.
Put another way—
‘Could the Blade King reach the Three Venerables?’
Whether one was a member of the Six Seats.
Or one of the Ten Great Masters.
Could a mere human with his feet planted on the earth reach the transcendents who floated above the heavens?
Even if the heavens had placed shackles on their feet and brought them down to earth, could someone like the Blade King dare to look up at them?
‘No.’
It was hardly worth considering.
Though he was a filthy, filthy, and utterly filthy old man with a vile temperament—
Even broken, Pae Jon was still Pae Jon.
‘How could some Blade King possibly…’
Was I worried?
Not in the slightest.
As I had said before, Bi Uijin was Pae Jon.
That single fact resolved everything.
That was why I was not worried about Pae Jon’s safety.
‘…Please, go easy.’
I only hoped that old man would cause a moderate amount of trouble.
That was all I wanted.
******************
Waaaaaaaah—!!
Amid the cheers from every direction and the unrelenting heat, two martial artists faced each other on the arena.
The middle-aged man stood with his arms crossed, looking at the young man. The young man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking somewhere other than at the middle-aged man.
Watching this, the middle-aged man—the Blade King, Paeng Jeowoo—furrowed his brow.
‘Where is he looking?’
With his opponent right in front of him, where was that young man looking?
Paeng Jeowoo’s expression increasingly hardened at the conduct he found so displeasing.
‘Tsk.’
Young people these days were all so disrespectful.
He was standing before a senior—more than merely a senior, himself—and this was how the brat behaved?
‘I had intended to treat him with some consideration because he was Pae Jon’s disciple.’
Pae Jon, the Tyrant Venerable, Bi Ju.
A man who had fought countless life-and-death battles and survived despite suffering innumerable defeats.
An old man who had risen to the rank of Venerable after making a great contribution to the war against the unorthodox factions with his uniquely created martial art.
Paeng Jeowoo clicked his tongue briefly as he thought of the old man.
‘The disciple and the master are equally unpleasant.’
Paeng Jeowoo had seen Pae Jon several times.
He had met him in his youth while accompanying Paeng Taewoo, and had seen him again after he had passed the age of twenty.
‘Those fucking eyes.’
He still remembered them.
The gaze of the old man looking at him.
It had been a stare devoid of the slightest interest, as though he were looking at a mere pebble.
Paeng Jeowoo had even shrunk back under that icy gaze.
And yet, of all things—
‘That brat’s eyes resemble his.’
Was it because he was his successor?
For some reason, the Dragon Fighter gave off a strong impression of Pae Jon.
Pae Jon had been a hulking man covered in scars.
Unlike that old man, the Dragon Fighter was merely a fresh-faced little whelp, yet for some reason, Paeng Jeowoo felt the same sensation from him.
‘That brat, and this one too… They’re all the same.’
The son of that bastard Gu Cheol-un, whom he wanted to chew to death.
And this brat called the Dragon Fighter.
‘Their sprouts need to be crushed once and for all.’
He disliked every last one of them.
He even disliked the fact that he was standing in a pathetic place like this.
‘…Grit.’
Paeng Jeowoo secretly ground his teeth.
If the Alliance had not dredged up matters from the past, he would not have needed to come to a place like this. Not being able to avoid it was a bitter grievance.
‘How dare they think of using me, Paeng Jeowoo, as a clown?’
He would never forget this humiliation.
Paeng Jeowoo continued grinding his teeth.
He would certainly rise to the position of Alliance Leader and punish every one of those who had looked down on him.
He would endure the present for the sake of that day.
Repeating this to himself, Paeng Jeowoo cooled his ardor and looked ahead.
The Dragon Fighter was still not looking at him.
Under normal circumstances, that would have angered him, but Paeng Jeowoo merely raised the corner of his mouth.
The reason was simple.
‘How fortunate that I can correct that insolence.’
This was a place where he could legally beat his opponent.
It meant he could personally teach that younger-generation brat a lesson for his wretched behavior.
So it did not matter.
The more arrogant the brat acted, the rougher Paeng Jeowoo’s hand would become.
With that thought, Paeng Jeowoo drew his saber.
Boom.
The heavy saber blade emerged into the world.
It was not the strange weapon the Blade King normally used, the Black Fang Ink Saber.
Strange weapons were forbidden in the Martial Arts Tournament, so this was a weapon provided by the Alliance. But in the Blade King’s hands, its value became something else entirely.
A monstrous pressure poured from Paeng Jeowoo as he held the saber.
Gugugugugugu.
“…Haaah!”
“Urk!”
Groans erupted from all around.
The pressure was on an entirely different level from the earlier matches.
It was merely a preparatory stance, yet it possessed such overwhelming presence that everyone’s eyes were drawn to the Saber King.
“You’d best prepare yourself.”
Only then did Turyong’s gaze move, prompted by Paeng Jeou’s words as he released his pressure.
Still wearing the same expressionless face.
Seeing this, Paeng Jeou belatedly realized something.
‘Was he too tense?’
Now that he thought about it, perhaps Turyong had not been ignoring him. Maybe he had been too frightened to look at him.
‘So that was it.’
It made sense.
There was no way a mere young prodigy could ignore him. If excessive tension was the problem, then it was understandable.
“Do not worry. I have no intention of showing my true strength against a junior. Besides, this may be one of the few good opportunities you’ll have. So spread your wings to your heart’s content.”
He let out a mocking laugh as he spoke.
Go ahead and show off as much as you like.
That was the meaning behind his words.
But then—
“Hmm.”
Turyong nodded slightly as he watched him.
“Indeed. Your father’s side is far better. What a shame.”
“…What did you say?”
Paeng Jeou reacted to the muttered words, but—
“I will prepare.”
At the judge’s words, he could ask no further questions.
What had he meant by that just now?
His father?
Unable to understand the strange remark, Paeng Jeou wondered about it, but for the moment, he ignored it.
“…The third match of the main tournament: Paeng Jeou of the Paeng Clan versus Bi Uijin of the Seoanbi Family.”
The judge soon raised his hand.
“The match begins.”
He swiftly brought it down again, and the match began.
Immediately after the match started—
The two men simply watched each other without making any significant movement.
Seeing Turyong standing motionless, as if tense, the Saber King spoke.
“As a senior, I shall yield you three moves.”
“...”
Three moves. Turyong’s eyes widened at the words.
Had he been surprised by the Saber King’s consideration?
“…Ah, right. A senior… I see.”
“...”
He really did seem incredibly tense. There was something off about him.
Turyong’s eyes widened for only a moment before he quickly clasped his hands and said to the Saber King,
“I did have a few things to confirm. Thank you for your consideration.”
What did he intend to confirm?
Just as the Saber King began to take an interest—
Clack.
Turyong began to walk.
He slowly approached the Saber King, one step at a time.
Watching this, the Saber King let out a hollow laugh.
‘He’s walking?’
Even charging at him with everything he had would not be enough, and now he was walking toward him? This was ridiculous—
Whoosh.
Thud!
“!?”
The situation changed in an instant. The Saber King steadied his breathing as he assessed what had happened.
‘What was that?’
His arm had risen before he even realized it.
And he could feel something against it.
What in the world had happened? Once he grasped the situation, the Saber King could only be even more shocked.
Turyong, who had been walking toward him from a distance, was suddenly standing right in front of him.
He had attacked the Saber King with a kick, and the Saber King had raised his arm to block it.
He had blocked the attack purely by instinct.
The Saber King, who had not properly perceived the attack, should have been flustered.
But that was not the end of the astonishment.
“This is too weak.”
Turyong muttered as he withdrew his foot.
Then—
Boom!
“Urk!? Guhhk!”
An enormous impact suddenly struck the Saber King in the abdomen.
It was the same as before.
Turyong’s fist had driven straight into the Saber King’s stomach.
Craack!
The protective qi enveloping him shattered.
Whoosh!
The massive body rose slightly into the air.
The Saber King immediately circulated his internal energy and landed on his feet.
Thud, thud!
At the same time, he staggered back several steps and clutched his abdomen with one large hand.
“Haa… huff…”
He had nearly vomited without even realizing it.
“You bastard… What the hell was that just now…!”
The pain still remained, knotted deep in his abdomen.
Suppressing his trembling body, the Saber King demanded an answer.
“Hmm.”
Turyong looked at him and nodded twice.
“That was too strong. Somewhere right in the middle should do.”
He then smiled in satisfaction, as though he had confirmed something.
Afterward, he crooked a finger at the Saber King.
“There’s no need for three moves. Come in now.”
Paejon was certain.
Yes, this should be enough.
At this level, he thought, he ought to be able to beat the Saber King without killing him.