"Finally… the Nangwi Sword."
As Jang Uibo walked toward the sparring stage, the audience, which had fallen into silence, began to stir slightly.
In truth, the three bouts before had been utterly one-sided.
The first challenger, Cho Mudo, had held out desperately, but only that far.
The warriors that followed couldn't even properly cross wooden swords with Souun before being defeated, and most of those present felt a strange sense of fear at Souun's martial prowess, which had exceeded all expectations.
But…
"No matter how skilled the Nangwi Sword may be, this seems impossible. Isn't the young sect master's martial ability already beyond what could be considered that of a mere post-awakening disciple?"
"Indeed. I had wondered what level of talent could earn him the title of genius, but this has far surpassed anything I imagined. Truly extraordinary."
Among the guild masters, some were quick to raise their voices in praise of Souun's prowess.
Crisis is opportunity.
They clearly saw this moment, in which the Jongui Sect master had indirectly revealed his strength, as the perfect chance to curry favor.
And as he listened to their talk drifting from the rear seats, the sect master of Jongui allowed himself a quiet smile.
'The atmosphere has changed.'
At the start of the matches, many had placed their hopes in the Yongmyeong Merchant Guild's showing.
Even if Souun had studied martial arts from Jongnam Sect, one of the Nine Factions, his age was barely past twenty.
But now…
'They must have realized it.'
That Souun was not just a slightly talented post-awakening disciple, as they had assumed.
Savoring the taste of victory, the Jongui Sect master glanced sideways at Cheon Myeonghak's face.
'…Hm?'
Contrary to his expectation—that Cheon Myeonghak would be drowning in despair or burning with rage—the man's expression as he watched the stage was strangely calm.
'What is he looking at?'
His gaze was fixed not on the stage, but on the warriors who had come down, hanging their heads in defeat.
Seeing this, the Jongui Sect master curled his lips in a thin smile and, with a feigned cough, spoke.
"Hrmm… This must be rather stifling for you, Guildmaster Cheon."
"..."
"Do not place too much blame on your men. For ordinary guild warriors to be unable to withstand Souun is only natural—"
"That is not so, Sect Master."
Cheon Myeonghak's calm voice cut off his provocation, which had been disguised as consolation.
"I have never thought of my guild's warriors as incompetent."
"…Truly?"
"Yes. They stood upon the stage, overcoming their fear, for the sake of the Yongmyeong Merchant Guild."
"..."
"They displayed a courage I could never even imitate. How could I call them incompetent simply because the outcome was poor?"
"…Ha!"
At Cheon Myeonghak's unwavering eyes and steady words, the Jongui Sect master let out a hollow laugh.
'What a foolish thing to say. And this man calls himself guild master?'
He had shown them more than enough to make them recognize the disparity of strength, yet still the man prattled without grasping reality.
'So be it.'
He had thought he'd shown enough already, but if breaking Cheon Myeonghak's composure required more, then so be it.
His sharp eyes fixed on Cheon Myeonghak, the Jongui Sect master sent a soundless transmission to the stage.
<…As you command.>
Souun smiled faintly at his father's transmission.
On the stage, Jang Uibo narrowed his eyes at the sight.
"Why are you smiling?"
"…It's nothing. Merely another thought crossed my mind."
Souun waved a hand carelessly as he answered.
Jang Uibo's brow twitched, and he curled one side of his lip into a cold smile.
"You are at ease indeed—to be thinking of something else while facing me."
"Hah, amusing. Spoken like you were something worthy of note."
Souun chuckled, then quickly erased his smile and asked:
"Are you the Yongmyeong Merchant Guild's greatest strength?"
"Why do you ask such a thing?"
"To be frank, the duels so far have been dull beyond belief. Even against a poor opponent, there should be something to learn, but these bouts have been little more than a waste of time."
"What was that? A waste of time…?"
At Souun's words, which insulted every warrior of the guild, Jang Uibo's grip on his wooden sword tightened.
He wanted to lunge at once, but against an expert of this level, emotion was poison.
He steadied his breath, calming his rage, then assumed his stance with a cold expression.
Ssshhk.
"Arrogant brat. I'll see for myself whether you have the skill to speak so."
"I look forward to it. Though I wonder if your skill will be enough to judge me."
Maintaining his provoking tone, Souun lazily shifted his wooden sword.
Watching, Cheon Myeonghak at last gave the signal.
"Begin!"
Pahhht!
At his cry, Jang Uibo burst forward, stepping in with fluid footwork to close the distance.
Unlike the previous challengers, who had used only simple steps, Jang Uibo's movements were dazzling as he sought Souun's blind spot.
Swish!
Bang!
His strike from the left was caught head-on by Souun, who didn't even move from his spot.
When Souun remained unmoved even against his full-force blow, Jang Uibo retreated a step, unleashing a lightning-fast thrust.
Pupuk, puk!
In the blink of an eye, three thrusts aimed for Souun's throat, chest, and abdomen.
This time, unable to simply block in place, Souun gave ground, deflecting the final thrust by a hair's breadth.
And at that instant—
Ssshhk.
Pressing in even further, Jang Uibo raised his wooden sword high, eyes flashing.
Ssshh—
"Hm…?"
As the sword quivered lightly, it produced three afterimages, and Souun's eyes narrowed.
The three clear images came slicing at him from different angles.
It was the manifestation of Ghost Sword's Triple Kill, the technique Jang Uibo had displayed before against Cheon Wuha.
Kwa-bang! Paht!
"…..!"
Souun calmly stepped back, deflecting Jang Uibo's phantom swords.
Two he parried, but the last grazed just past his shoulder.
When Souun stumbled back, even the audience erupted in surprise.
"N-no way!"
"Unbelievable…!"
On Souun's face appeared a flicker of surprise, and Jang Uibo, seizing the momentum, charged boldly once more, wooden sword raised overhead.
Sssshhhh!
"…!"
This time, his blade moved even faster, birthing five phantoms.
The result of five years of grueling training to increase the variations of his art!
The five afterimages, coming from different directions, rained down upon Souun, and Jang Uibo's eyes shone with certainty of victory.
And then—
"…Tch."
Boom!
With a click of his tongue, Souun's foot slammed against the stage.
A surge of energy rippled around him.
Then—
Pabababababam!
Souun's wooden sword split into eight rays of light in an instant, shattering Jang Uibo's five phantoms and striking his throat, chest, and solar plexus in rapid succession.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"…Kuhk!"
Having his ultimate technique completely broken and his vital points struck, Jang Uibo staggered back, gasping for breath.
Souun looked at him and mocked:
"Swift Sword Eight Severances."
"..."
"A perfect technique for smashing crude illusions."
"Ugh… uhh…"
The shock left Jang Uibo reeling, on the verge of collapse.
As Cheon Myeonghak unconsciously began to rise to his feet—
Swaek!
Bang!
Souun's wooden sword struck Jang Uibo's defenseless face in the blink of an eye.
Blood spurted from his nose and mouth as his consciousness fled, and his body fell to the floor.
Kwah-ang! Kudangtang!
Souun's kick sent his limp body flying, crashing down on the other side of the stage.
Like a kite with its string cut, Jang Uibo's body lay sprawled limply on the platform.
…Thud.
"Master Jang!"
Cheon Myeonghak leapt to his feet, shouting.
The guild warriors, dazed by the spectacle, snapped awake and rushed toward Jang Uibo.
"What… what are you doing!"
Furious at what had unfolded before his eyes, Cheon Myeonghak roared at Souun.
But the reply he received was curt and indifferent.
"What do you mean?"
"Do not feign ignorance! The match was already decided—why did you strike him further?"
Cheon Myeonghak's voice rose, veins bulging on his neck.
Souun's eyes narrowed on the stage, and before Myeonghak could continue, the Jongui Sect master rose, holding up a hand.
"Now, now. Calm yourself, Guildmaster Cheon. Such accidents often occur in a duel."
"Accident? Did you say accident?"
"When one faces an opponent far beneath one's level, the hand can slip. From the boy's perspective, he assumed it would be blocked. But the opponent could not respond at all—surely you see the injustice of it?"
"…..!"
"Is that not so, Souun?"
Before Cheon Myeonghak could retort, the sect master addressed the stage.
Souun, with a look of feigned regret, replied.
"That is so. He was called the Nangwi Sword of the Yongmyeong Guild—I expected something different from the others."
"You hear that? Perhaps you do not understand, Guildmaster, but among warriors such things often happen. In any case, I did not expect such a difference in skill. For sending Souun forth in these circumstances, I offer my apology."
It was less an apology than a sneer.
Cheon Myeonghak trembled, struggling to endure the humiliation.
When the sect master turned toward the guild masters in the back seats, some flinched and hastily averted their eyes.
But others, instead, quickly voiced their support for him.
"I think Guildmaster Cheon is taking this matter too seriously."
"Indeed. After all, the Nangwi Sword was meant to be the guild's foremost warrior, was he not?"
"And yet, to see him so easily defeated by one so young—clearly the rumors of a genius from Seoan were no exaggeration."
"The Yongmyeong Guild must be reassured. To have such a prodigy in the sect protecting them is like having their future guaranteed."
With the crowd's support turned wholly toward Jongui Sect, Cheon Myeonghak bit his lip hard.
As Jang Uibo was carried from the stage, the last remaining guild warrior's face turned ghostly pale.
'Is surrender… the only choice?'
…Yes, better to suffer the shame of yielding than to demand meaningless sacrifice.
What had begun as a ceremony to honor Wuha had become nothing but a stage to glorify the Jongui Sect's young heir.
Cheon Myeonghak clenched his heart, about to declare defeat—
"Hahaha!"
Suddenly, from the audience not far from him, a laugh rang out.
"Mm…?"
The source of the laughter—Cheon Wuha, the Yongmyeong Guild's young master—clutching his belly and laughing aloud.
The Jongui Sect master's brow furrowed in displeasure as he addressed him.
"Why do you laugh, Young Guildmaster?"
"Ah… ha, forgive me. Hearing everyone speak, I simply couldn't hold it in any longer…"
"Everyone's words? What could have been so amusing?"
One guild master, offended at being made a laughingstock, raised his voice.
But Cheon Wuha slowly caught his breath, then looked languidly at Souun on the stage.
"I had looked forward to seeing what level of talent earned him the title of genius… and yet, if even this is enough for everyone to call him a genius, well… I found it quite funny."
"What?!"
"How dare you say 'just this much'!"
"Apologize, young master! However slighted you feel, those words are—"
"Wait."
The Jongui Sect master lifted a hand, curling his lips in a smile as he looked at Wuha.
"Your words intrigue me, Young Guildmaster. Do you mean that sincerely?"
"If it sounded offensive, I apologize. But I've always been rather straightforward by nature…"
"Hahaha! Straightforwardness is good! Far better than some clumsy pretense!"
The sect master laughed heartily, then asked in a chilling tone:
"Then allow me to ask plainly. In your eyes, how does my son's talent appear?"
"…Well. If I were to answer honestly, as I see it…"
Cheon Wuha stroked his chin with a faint smile.
And after a moment, with a thin sneer curling his lips, he uttered a single word.
"Dullard."
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