Northern Expeditionary Army — Barehanded Bout
On one side of the field, a barehanded match was underway.
Ten were chosen from the White Dragon Unit and ten from Namsan Sect.
They stepped forward one by one.
In the wide clearing, ringed by onlookers, they clashed.
Having trained in similar martial principles, they knew one another's rhythm of attack.
The moment they closed distance, they collided like sparks bursting on contact.
As expected, those hardened in the martial world—Namsan's disciples—held the upper hand.
Only two remained for the White Dragon Unit.
Five still stood for Namsan.
Just as Sowoon was testing the fit of his armor and setting it aside, Ga Gyeongpil came running.
"Scholar! Scholar!"
"Yes, Captain."
"The White Dragon Unit is about to lose."
"What do you mean?"
"We picked ten from the Unit and ten from the newly gathered troops for a bout. We're falling behind."
"Impossible. After all that training?"
Ga Gyeongpil did not say the opponent was Namsan Sect.
He simply called them "newly gathered troops."
"I have to go. Hurry."
"Why?"
"You'll be the last entrant."
"That violates the rules. If someone like me steps in, it isn't fair."
"What nonsense. Aren't you White Dragon Unit?"
"I am, but—"
"Then get out there. Only two left. What will it look like if veterans lose to fresh recruits?"
He stressed the words "fresh recruits."
Sosam and Johwi, catching on, rose at once.
Ga Gyeongpil grabbed Sowoon's arm and broke into a run.
Dozens had already gathered at the clearing.
More poured in—over two hundred now.
A wall of bodies circled the ring so thickly that nothing inside could be seen from beyond.
"Last entrant for the White Dragon Unit!
If no one steps forward, it's a loss!"
The voice was familiar.
That fellow from Diancang.
Sowoon's face drained of color.
From that single voice, he realized the truth—the bout was between the White Dragon Unit and Namsan Sect.
This is troublesome… What am I supposed to do?
Before he could decide, Ga Gyeongpil dragged him straight into the center.
"Last entrant present!"
The Diancang youth froze the instant he saw Sowoon.
"Master… no, Young Lord… no…"
He faltered, staring at Sowoon, then turned resentful eyes toward Ga Gyeongpil, who stood as judge.
"This breaks the rules. It's a foul."
"What rule is broken? Namsan and White Dragon each chose ten. We're simply fielding our final man."
Sowoon smiled lightly and shook his arm free.
"That is correct. I belong to the White Dragon Unit.
My rank is scout of the Northern Expeditionary Army's White Dragon First Unit."
"Master—then you are not Namsan?"
"I stayed at Namsan briefly.
About a month.
My role then was instructor—
dispatched from the White Dragon Unit."
"You unbelievable—"
Frustration, grievance, and resolve flickered across the Diancang youth's face.
Behind him, the Namsan crowd erupted in jeers.
Even the one from Huashan who had been practicing Taiji, and Moyong as well, raised their voices.
The words were not wrong.
Whatever anyone said, Sowoon was White Dragon.
He had returned to the Unit.
He wore their uniform.
Riding trousers, light arm-guards, dark indigo tunic—
all unmistakably White Dragon.
No argument would reverse it now.
Appeals meant nothing.
Logic carried no weight.
Suddenly, the Diancang youth flared his eyes and shouted:
"Get him, you bastard!
Stick to him! Beat him down!"
The five who had yet to enter cracked their fingers and rolled their shoulders.
They loosened arms, twisted waists, bounced in place.
They prepared to face a master of the transcendent realm—barehanded.
The Diancang youth had already felled three.
His eyes burned with ferocity.
He excelled at close combat.
Clinging relentlessly, he had toppled White Dragon fighters one by one.
Three lay down.
Yet his momentum had not waned.