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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Young Dragon Ascension Tournament Concludes
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As soon as Dojin's match ended, all eyes in the crowd turned to the Yeomhwa Family and Jang So-san's sword arts.
Naturally, very few people paid much attention to the matches that followed.
The revelation that the secret techniques of the legendary Jang So-san, once thought lost, were in the possession of the Yeomhwa Family—and that their second son had easily defeated the Seok Family's child using just the introductory sword art—meant no other match could possibly capture the spectators' attention.
"This is taking a strange turn."
The head of the Baek Family nodded at the words of the Seok Family Head, who spoke from behind a sound-dampening barrier.
"First, the Poison Emperor shows up out of nowhere. Then, a kid from that backwater family we paid no mind to snatches victory. We put up the money, and some completely unrelated party reaps the rewards."
Hearing the Baek Family Head's complaint-filled voice, Seok Il-do looked toward the masters of the Sangro and Ilyeo martial arts schools.
"Since it has come to this… shouldn't we stop their momentum? Even if we lose a few dishes from the feast, we must protect our position as hosts."
The master of the Ilyeo Martial Arts School glanced at the distant seat where Hwa Mujin of the Yeomhwa Family sat and shook his head.
"The Poison Emperor is watching. If we try any funny business, we'll only tarnish the name of the Seochang Martial Arts Association."
"I'm not suggesting we use petty tricks. Master Jo. Master Pal. I heard both of your eldest sons have returned just in time."
The masters of the Sangro and Ilyeo martial arts schools were former lay disciples of the Emei and Diancang Sects, respectively.
Everyone in Seochang knew that their eldest sons were also training as lay disciples in the same sects as their fathers.
Out of consideration for the Baek and Seok families, the two schools had not entered their sons, who were away training, in this year's Young Dragon Ascension Tournament.
"To suddenly change the tournament bracket…"
"It's not like the bracket was made public anyway. As long as we keep our mouths shut, who's to know? If the Yeomhwa Family's second son is chosen as the Young Dragon, the tournament we've prepared for five years will all be for nothing. Not only that, but Hwa Mujin is only twenty-three. He said earlier he had no intention of participating in the Orthodox Grand Tournament, but… if he rides this momentum and decides to enter, he'll surely be chosen as Seochang's representative. Do your schools have any disciples who can defeat him?"
At Seok Il-do's words, the expressions of the two martial arts school masters darkened.
The Young Dragon Ascension Tournament might seem like a small, local competition, but in reality, it was not.
The winner of a local tournament like this would earn the right to participate in the main rounds of the Orthodox Grand Tournament.
Therefore, it was common for the local sects to dominate these regional tournaments, which were held only once every five years and recognized by the Nine Great Sects.
For this tournament, the two martial arts schools had agreed in advance to let a winner emerge from either the Baek Family or the Seok Family.
But the appearance of a single boy named Hwa Dojin from the Yeomhwa Family had begun to shake up the entire arrangement.
They were already wary of the Yeomhwa Family, which had recently begun to stir after a long period of decline, and they did not want a new wind to start blowing with them at its center.
"Since you both put it that way, I suppose we have no choice."
"But my son is already fourteen. What do we do about that?"
The Young Dragon Ascension Tournament was officially a competition for children aged eight to thirteen.
"Wasn't your son born in the winter?"
"Well, yes, but…"
"Then what's the problem? As long as we keep our mouths shut, no one will question it. Let's just go with it."
The master of the Ilyeo Martial Arts School nodded at Seok Il-do's words.
And so, with the plan finalized, two boys who had been watching from a corner of the VIP section were suddenly entered into the Young Dragon Ascension Tournament.
-Hwa Dojin of the Yeomhwa Family! Pal Yeo-so of the Ilyeo Martial Arts School! To the stage.
After several matches had passed, Dojin once again stepped onto the stage, and not just Mujin's group but the entire audience began to focus on the match.
"Hmm? There's quite an age gap with his opponent."
Mujin nodded at the Poison Emperor's remark.
The boy, a full head taller than Dojin, was clearly past the stage of being a mere child.
"Isn't that Yeo-bin's older brother? I thought he was fourteen."
Mujin spoke up as Soyeon tilted her head.
"A six-year age difference won't be easy."
At Mujin's words, Elder Jo shot up from his seat.
"What's wrong?"
"I must go and protest!"
"About what?"
"The Young Dragon Ascension Tournament is originally restricted to participants aged eight to thirteen. But…"
"Sit down."
"Pardon?"
Elder Jo asked again, as if he had misheard Mujin.
"I said, sit down. Whether it's a one-year difference or a ten-year difference, experience is what matters. Do you think enemies in a real fight will back down because of an age gap? This will be a good lesson, so sit."
At Mujin's words, Elder Jo sat back down with a surprised expression.
He couldn't understand why Mujin, who he had expected to be the first to cause an uproar, was unexpectedly letting it slide.
The Poison Emperor smiled and nodded at Mujin's demeanor.
He had shown that he doted on his younger brother, but as a martial artist, he applied a thoroughly cold and strict standard, which the Emperor found pleasing.
He especially liked the conviction contained within the words "real fight."
It aligned well with the philosophy of the Tang Clan, which did not hesitate to use poison and hidden weapons to overcome an enemy.
"A child of the Diancang Sect. Was that Ilyeo Martial Arts School founded by a former lay disciple of Diancang?"
The Poison Emperor asked, observing the opening stance of Dojin's opponent. His granddaughter, Dang So-hye, answered.
"That is correct, Grandfather. I heard the Ilyeo Martial Arts School was established in Sichuan by a lay disciple of the Diancang Sect nearly twenty years ago."
"A Diancang affiliate in Sichuan for twenty years."
The Poison Emperor said, turning his gaze back to the stage.
-Clack-clack-clack!
Just as in his first match, Dojin lowered his stance, intending to defend first and counter. Pal Yeo-so, however, rushed him, his wooden sword moving swiftly.
Dojin deflected his opponent's sword, frowning as he retreated.
The force behind the wooden sword was too formidable to simply parry and advance.
After that first exchange, Pal Yeo-so realized Dojin was no match for him and curled his lips into a smirk.
-Finish him as quickly as possible! You must clearly show everyone the difference in level between the Ilyeo Martial Arts School and the Yeomhwa Family!-
Recalling his father's words, Pal Yeo-so relaxed and entertained another thought.
'The difference in level doesn't have to be shown through the length of the match, Father.'
The Diancang Sect was a school of swordsmanship that emphasized practical combat, utilizing a fast sword style composed of combat-effective moves.
Pal Yeo-so, who had endured three years of rigorous training there, knew very well how to mercilessly crush a weaker opponent.
-Clack! Whoosh! Thwack!
Dojin's expression grew darker as he continuously retreated and defended.
His opponent's sword, which had initially aimed only for his vital points, gradually shifted its path to target his wooden sword, and his grip began to ache.
Despite this, he couldn't launch a counterattack.
The Heart-Severing Sword Art, true to its name, was a style that suppressed instinct as if carving away at one's own heart. It was a fast sword style, yet it did not initiate attacks; its essence lay in subduing the opponent with minimal strikes.
Its profound mystery was concentrated in swiftly, nimbly, and accurately striking an opponent's opening to end the fight in a single blow.
In contrast, the Twelve Swords of Scattered Light, the Diancang sword art used by Pal Yeo-so, was a fast sword style focused solely on overwhelming the enemy like a storm.
It was a style composed entirely of practical moves, leaving the opponent no room to counter.
In terms of compatibility, the two sword arts were polar opposites.
In such a situation, it was hardly surprising that Pal Yeo-so, who was superior to Dojin, would gain the upper hand.
-Clack-clack-clack!
"Keuk!"
A groan finally escaped Dojin's lips.
As the impact on his hand accumulated, it became increasingly difficult to endure.
Pal Yeo-so watched Dojin's face contort in pain and twisted his lips into a sneer.
With a smirk, he showed a persistent side unbefitting a child.
He deliberately broke the flow of his attacks instead of finishing the fight, intending to drag it out as long as possible.
'That wrist. I'll make it unusable for the next six months.'
Watching the ongoing fight, the Poison Emperor frowned.
"He has a cunning streak for a child."
The viciousness of Pal Yeo-so's methods, unbecoming of a match between righteous martial artists, made the Poison Emperor scowl.
Mujin, however, was smiling.
"In life, you're bound to meet enemies like that, aren't you? It's a good thing he's met a good opponent at a good time."
As long as he had chosen the path of a martial artist, Mujin believed this was a valuable trial for Dojin, who would one day lead the Yeomhwa Family in his stead.
Mujin hoped that this fight would chip away at Dojin's rigidness, even just a little, and teach him to think more flexibly.
-Crack!
-Thud!
The moment Pal Yeo-so's wooden sword struck Dojin's again, a grating sound was heard, and a blue beanbag fell onto the stage.
Pal Yeo-so retreated a good distance, spun his wooden sword flamboyantly, and hid it behind his back.
In contrast, Dojin dropped his wooden sword, which was on the verge of breaking, to the ground.
"Haa… Haa… Haa…"
Seeing Dojin's hand trembling from the pain, the referee was about to end the match when he caught sight of Seok Il-do in the VIP section, shaking his head.
Seok Il-do did not want this match to end here.
The referee, who was also the chief steward of the Seok Family, looked down at Dojin and asked.
"Do you wish to forfeit?"
"Not yet… I can still do it!"
"..."
After looking down at Dojin for a moment, he handed him a new wooden sword.
But Dojin couldn't grip the sword properly with his trembling hand.
Left with no choice, the referee was about to end the match when Mujin, seated far away, shot to his feet and shouted.
-Grip it! You can do it!
His voice thundered across the arena, and Dojin forced himself to grip the wooden sword, then tore his sleeve and began to wrap it around his hand and the hilt.
"How harsh."
The Poison Emperor commented, watching Dojin tear his sleeve to bind his hand on the stage.
"Isn't this just the life of one who lives by the sword?"
Mujin's words carried a depth uncharacteristic of a young martial artist.
"Indeed."
When the match resumed, Pal Yeo-so, a wide smirk on his face, charged forward to press his attack on Dojin once more.
'Brother is watching! I won't just lose!'
Though young, he was old enough to be fully aware of his family's situation.
The people who constantly visited, making the elders and the chief steward who supported the family sigh.
His older brother, who suffered from seizures.
His father, whose face he could barely remember.
His mother, who was said to have died giving birth to them.
Amidst these bleak circumstances, his older brother had embraced them, finally bringing stability to the family.
Dojin knew just how precious this ordinary life was, a life he never wanted to lose again.
'I have to… I have to make a good showing, so we can recruit more warriors.'
If he wanted to be of any help to his family, he couldn't give up like this.
!!!
Gripping the wooden sword with both hands, Dojin charged toward his opponent for the first time.
If no opening for a counterattack presented itself, he would not miss the chance to strike first.
-Clack-clack-clack!
The rapid sound of wooden swords clashing echoed as the two boys fought without giving an inch.
-Ooooh!
-A battle of fast sword versus fast sword.
-How are they so fast?
Gasps of admiration erupted from the crowd at their exchange.
After a prolonged exchange, Pal Yeo-so's sword finally broke through Dojin's defense.
-Thwack!
"It's over!"
With those words, Pal Yeo-so intended to force Dojin to his knees.
But the moment his sword struck his opponent's shoulder, the smile vanished from his face for the first time.
-Step!
Even after taking a blow to the shoulder, Dojin did not fall. Instead, he pushed forward one more step.
-Thwack-thwack-thwack!
Simultaneously, for the first time, Dojin's counterattack penetrated Pal Yeo-so's space and unfolded.
-Thud.
In an instant, struck in the chest, side, and the back of his knee, Pal Yeo-so fell to one knee.
He couldn't even comprehend what had happened after Dojin had closed the distance by that single step.
"That foolish boy!"
Pal Jang-cheon, the master of the Ilyeo Martial Arts School and his father, roared and slammed his fist down, shattering the armrest of his chair.
It was only natural for his anger to boil over; his son had not only let his guard down but had also foolishly surrendered his advantage by giving up the distance.
Dojin spun around, extending his final strike toward the kneeling Pal Yeo-so.
-Thud.
Just then, a red beanbag fell onto the stage, cutting across Dojin's line of sight.
Dojin immediately halted his attack, withdrew his wooden sword, and stepped back.
The sleeve he had tied tightly around his hand and sword was already soaked in red, with drops of blood dripping to the ground.
"Truly, a fighting spirit unbecoming of a child. You have a remarkable younger brother."
At the Poison Emperor's praise, Mujin smiled and nodded.
"One must have at least that much to be considered a martial artist, wouldn't you say? With that kind of grit, he'll succeed at whatever he does!"
Not just the Poison Emperor, but many others in the vicinity nodded in agreement at Mujin's words.
Dojin's performance, refusing to back down even as his hand was torn open at the tender age of eight, had moved many people.
-Well done!
-Amazing!
-Truly the second son of the Yeomhwa Family!!
-A worthy brother to the Hidden Dragon of Sichuan!
The crowd always tends to cheer for the underdog.
When Dojin, who had been on the defensive the entire time, finally overcame the crisis and achieved a comeback victory, the audience erupted in thunderous cheers, chanting his name.
As soon as the match ended, Elder Jo and Steward Do rushed to the stage, took Dojin, and brought him to where Mujin was.
"Young Master! Please, stop the young lord!"
At Steward Do's words, Mujin could guess the situation without hearing the details.
"Come here."
Dojin approached at Mujin's command.
"Show me your hand."
Dojin hesitated for a moment, then held out his hand to Mujin.
When he unwrapped the blood-soaked cloth, a palm split open and white was revealed.
"Ugh!"
As Mujin inspected the palm and grabbed Dojin's wrist, a groan escaped the boy's lips.
"Tsk, tsk. You can't continue with this hand."
"Brother! I can do it! Please let me fight to the end!"
As expected, Dojin was as stubborn as he was upright.
Especially in his first-ever tournament.
Had he felt something stirring within him, as a man?
It seemed Dojin did not want to give up here.
"Even if I try to stop you, if you want to fight, then you fight. But remember one thing. If you go out for the next match, your wrist will be worsened to the point where you'll need at least half a year to recover. Right now, it's something that can heal with a good two weeks of rest. The choice is yours. I have no intention of stopping someone who wants to fight. Not now, and not ever. If you decide to draw your sword and fight, I will never stand in your way."
Mujin's words cooled Dojin's heated mind.
"I… I was being stubborn and worried the Elder and the Steward. I will withdraw now."
At Dojin's words, Mujin smiled inwardly.
Despite his stubbornness and rigidity, Dojin had a heart that knew how to think of others before himself.
Watching Dojin bend his own will for the sake of those who would worry and fret over him, the Poison Emperor also smiled and spoke.
"He is a child with a kind heart. He has the qualities of a good righteous martial artist. His disposition is as covetable as his martial talent."
"Th-thank you."
Even though he didn't know who the old man was, Dojin bowed his head and offered his thanks.
"Well then, let's be on our way."
Once his brother's withdrawal was decided, Mujin stood up abruptly.
As he rose, the Poison Emperor and his granddaughter also got to their feet.
"May I follow you and get a cup of tea?"
At the Poison Emperor's words, Mujin made a displeased face.
"Eating a meal or drinking tea with a martial artist of the Tang Clan is a truly uncomfortable affair."
"What does it matter? Your younger siblings have shown such outstanding talent, I'm simply excited. Wouldn't it be nice to discuss their potential together?"
At those words, Mujin nodded.
"Fine, let's do that. This meeting must be fate, and you said you have a connection with my grandfather."
Steward Do and Elder Jo, whose hearts had sunk when Mujin refused the Poison Emperor, finally regained their composure and hurried to lead the way.
As they turned, a martial artist from afar used his movement technique to rush before them.
"A-are you leaving?"
Mujin nodded at the words of Seok Il-do, the head of the Seok Family.
"That's right, we're leaving. Why are you blocking our way?"
"W-well… what about the tournament…"
"Can't you see? You should know full well that he's in no condition to fight anymore. Are you telling him to go up on that stage with this hand and get beaten?"
Mujin frowned as he spoke, and Seok Il-do frantically shook his head.
"Of course not. I didn't realize the injury was so severe."
"For a martial artist's insight to be so poor. You should work on improving it."
With those final words, Mujin and his party walked past him.
As the Poison Emperor and his granddaughter also disappeared following Mujin, a significant number of the younger martial artists in the arena began to leave as well.
The tournament wasn't even over.
The eldest son of the Sangro Martial Arts School had just stepped onto the stage, but with their departure, the atmosphere felt like it had gone cold.
"..."
Seok Il-do glared at the back of Mujin, who had ruined this year's Young Dragon Ascension Tournament and was now leaving.
* * *
At that moment, a new group of martial artists was entering Seochang.
"The Hidden Dragon of Sichuan. Today will be the day we wring that dragon's neck."
At the middle-aged martial artist's words, another martial artist wearing a black eyepatch embroidered with a tiger over one eye replied in a distinctly high-pitched voice.
"I'm counting on you, brother. Please, avenge my eye!"
"Don't you worry. With our brothers from the Red Sword Sect here, no one in a place like Seochang can stop us. Isn't that right?"
The middle-aged man spoke, and a martial artist in a red robe smiled and nodded.
"Of course. This is a matter for the master of the Lesser Killing Sect, who has always helped us, so we will handle it cleanly. Now that our Red Sword Sect has stepped in, you have nothing to worry about."
With those words, the three martial artists and dozens of warriors following them began to walk toward the Yeomhwa Family.
Their arrival began to cast a strange tension over the Seochang region.
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