Chapter 230

Chapter 230
Chapter 230
Feather Transformation’s Might

The final competitor from the twenty-fifth group had lost both his teammates in the blink of an eye. He staggered back in shock, desperate to put distance between himself and his foe, but the sword pursued him unrelentingly.

“What—!”

“I told you already. This is the Suction Technique.”

Gritting his teeth, the competitor summoned his internal energy, intending to unleash sword qi and break the hold. Yet once more, he froze in utter bewilderment. Not a wisp of sword qi emerged.

“What is this?!”

“Must I repeat myself? It is the Suction Technique.”

Fighting with frantic desperation, he poured even greater stores of energy into his blade. Still no trace of sword qi manifested—instead, Yang-hwi’s sword began to shudder violently. Moments later, a deafening crash echoed through the clearing.

BOOM!

The last remaining member of the twenty-fifth group was sent hurtling backward, engulfed in a massive surge of released energy.

“Young Master Baek! What manner of skill was that? I cannot even begin to fathom it!” Okcheong called out, his voice ringing with undisguised wonder.

“Precisely what I said—the Suction Technique.”

“Even if you call it that, it explains nothing! There was no clash of steel, not even a sound… it is utterly unheard of!” When swords meet, one expects two things: they either rebound apart or ring out with a sharp, clear strike. The lack of recoil might be attributed to the Suction Technique, but total silence? That was far beyond anything normal.

“Because this is no ordinary Suction Technique.”

“Then put it simply! He tried to unleash sword qi, did he not? To nullify that with such a method is nothing short of astonishing!” Even now, his pure, unfeigned passion for the martial arts shone plainly, and Yang-hwi could not help but find his earnestness endearing.

“I simply absorbed all the energy he was channeling—the power driving his arm, the reinforcement coursing into his blade, even the energy meant to form his sword qi itself.”

He spoke the name aloud: “Heaven-Covering 108 Swords, Second Resolve: Feather Transformation Great and Small.”

It was a technique entirely unknown in his past life—a new form born of insights passed down from his master, Yin Hu. *Who would have thought such a thing could be done? Thanks to Master Yin Hu, I have learned and understood so much.*

The principle behind it was elegant in its simplicity: convert an opponent’s directed energy into vibrational motion, then wield those vibrations according to the principles of sonic arts. That was all. *The heart of it is vibration—resonance, trembling.* Through this understanding, feats once impossible had become within his reach.

“Feather Transformation Great and Small… great feathers, small feathers, shifting form… Ha! I see now! You called it the Suction Technique, but as you say, Young Master Baek, this is something far beyond any common version!”

“Would you like a more detailed explanation?”

“More than anything! To learn the deeper workings of such an art—how could I refuse? Please, tell me everything!”

“Call me Baekje.”

“Pardon?” Okcheong hesitated, confused by the sudden shift, when another voice cut sharply through the momentary quiet.

“So you simply drained his energy! That is a demonic art—just like the Absorption Great Law!”

Yang-hwi stared, incredulous, as murmurs of agreement rose from every side. “Using forbidden arts? How could the heir of the upright Baek family stoop so low?” “We must report this to the judges immediately!”

Indignation slipped out before he could check it. “Spare me your hypocrisy. By that same logic, is Wudang’s Four Liang Lift Thousand Catties or Kunlun’s Qiankun Great Nailed also a demonic Absorption Great Law?”

The principle was familiar: using four liang of force to move a thousand catties—subduing a foe by borrowing and redirecting their own strength, rather than meeting force with force. Kunlun’s Qiankun Great Nailed worked on much the same foundation: seizing the momentum of heaven and earth to shift vast weight with minimal effort. Feather Transformation Great and Small relied on vibration, yet its underlying philosophy aligned perfectly with those time-honored methods. It did not seize energy to consume it; it transformed it, reshaping it into something that could be guided and neutralized.

“Why do you not march to Wudang or Kunlun and accuse them of practicing demonic arts?”

His accusers fell silent, then quickly shifted their ground. “Such insolent language!” “Have you no shred of decency?”

These people truly knew no bounds. “Why should I extend courtesy to cowards who gang up on a single opponent?”

“Respect is owed regardless of rank or circumstance!”

“Or perhaps you simply realize you are losing?”

“We will suffer this arrogance no longer!”

“Manners?” Yang-hwi let out a short, sharp laugh. “We have drawn swords and fight for our lives—pray tell, where is the place for politeness here? Those who bow and scrape end with steel in their gut.”

Adu beamed brightly, entirely unperturbed. “No steel in my gut, though!”

Yang-hwi glanced at him, then muttered under his breath, “This is exactly why disciples of the so-called righteous sects are so difficult to deal with.”

One of the onlooking competitors found himself thinking the very same thought: *…Aren’t you from one of those same sects yourself?*

Yang-hwi paid it no mind. There was no point in continuing the pretense. *One group down, at any rate.* He checked the pulses of the three fallen from the twenty-fifth group—he had given them a gentle infusion of stabilizing energy; they would likely sleep soundly through the next full day.

“Very well. The twenty-fifth group is eliminated. Next group—step forward. This much I promise you: no matter which of you comes next, you will share their fate.”

No one moved to accept the challenge. Seeing an entire group struck down so effortlessly had made them wary. Besides, the two most distinguished figures among them—Adu and Okcheong—had both stood aside. Then Okcheong spoke, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

“I would prefer to face Young Master Baek at a later stage of the competition.”

*Unexpected*, Yang-hwi thought. *I would have guessed he would be the first to draw his blade, driven by curiosity over this new technique.*

—Baek-je… we shall sit together later and you will tell me everything! You said to call you Baekje, so you must explain it all!

Ah—that was it. He had held back to avoid creating hard feelings between them in the heat of the contest. He was simply too eager to learn more about Feather Transformation Great and Small to risk their bond now.

“And I would welcome a match with Brother Ok when we meet again. With that in mind, shall we bring this round to a swift close?”

Okcheong considered the other groups, then drew his sword once more. “Ah—excellent idea! My companions will be grateful to thin the field this quickly!”

The remaining groups looked on in alarm. “Priest Okcheong?” “Do you turn against us now?”

Okcheong looked genuinely bewildered. “Turn against you? How so?”

“Did we not agree to stand together?”

“We did—and how does that make this betrayal?”

Only then did the others see the truth clearly: every group here was a rival from the start. Talk of betrayal was meaningless.

“Priest Okcheong—are you plotting a cowardly ambush?”

“…?” The accusation was absurd coming from those who had just been discussing exactly that.

Yang-hwi, however, was the one who spoke up first. “I merely said what your faces were already shouting. It is written as plainly as day.”

What had begun as a five-against-one brawl had shifted to four against two. And that was not all.

“Yang-hwi! I stand with you too!”

“Monk… to say so out of nowhere…”

“Did you not promise we would follow your lead in this round?”

After a quick, quiet exchange, Adu’s remaining teammates moved to stand beside them. Three against three. The balance of power had shifted completely. This was why one built a reputation and kept one’s word, Yang-hwi reflected. *Connections and goodwill move the world, you newcomers!*

He grinned, settling into a ready stance. “So then—who strikes first?”

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The remaining two groups were disarmed and had their acupoints sealed peacefully by the six who stood together. Of the ten groups that had begun, seven remained. Three-tenths of the competition was already decided.

“At this pace, the selection will end far sooner than planned.”

“Baekje is right! I had resigned myself to spending at least three days in this forest!”

“Though it does leave us with little opportunity to train in the meantime…”

“Baekje—you read my mind! We have never even shared tea, yet you know exactly what I am thinking!”

“Then let us skip the tea when next we meet. We shall drink wine instead.”

“Nothing would please me more! As soon as this is done!”

“Yang-hwi—count me in as well! Drinks!”

“Easy now—monks are meant to abstain.”

“Abstain? You drank with us last time! And with the Master present too!”

He fell silent at the reminder—Venerable Rakbul had indeed been there, and had joined them. Then Paeng Wang spoke up.

“Speaking of which—who shall claim the second flag?”

A brief pause followed. It was the critical question: not only Okcheong’s and Adu’s groups without flags, but Yang-hwi’s own fifteenth group required three flags total for all members to advance.

“Shall we decide it with a fair three-way duel?” Yang-hwi suggested.

Okcheong shook his head. “I shall sit this one out. The moment I resolved not to fight you, Baekje, I yielded my place in this contest.”

It was the mark of a true disciple of an esteemed sect—straightforward and honorable.

“Brother Ok—surely you would not miss seeing me and Adu test our strength against one another?”

Okcheong chuckled, his eyes lighting up. “You truly understand me, Baekje!” He loved watching masters at work—would have preferred to join them, but he would not fight someone he had vowed not to oppose.

“Begin already! We need those flags!”

*Things are not going exactly as I intended*, Yang-hwi mused, then smiled. “Heh. Adu.”

“Yes?”

“Hand me your flag.”

“Certainly!”

Those watching stared in disbelief. “Did he just…?” “Just like that?”

Even Adu’s teammates raised no objection—they had already decided it was better to secure the goodwill of Shaolin’s most gifted prodigy than to fight an uncertain battle.

“Thank you.”

“Then you must drink with me afterward!”

“That is…”

“Drinks! Drinks! Drinks!”

*Is this boy possessed by a wine spirit?*

“Go on now—head that way. You will need a flag of your own, or the Grandmaster will be displeased.”

“Oh—true enough.”

“Keep moving; there is one not far ahead.”

“Truly? I’m off then!” Adu tucked his teammates safely under his arms and summoned his energy; golden aura wrapped around him like living flame. “Here we go!”

He charged forward, crashing through the undergrowth and knocking aside trees in his path. *With power like that, who needs chains?* Yang-hwi thought. *He moves as freely as he pleases.*

“Young Master Baek… is there truly a flag in that direction?”

“I sent him off so he would stop pestering me about wine.” He could sense the flags, but only faintly—he could not pinpoint them from far away. “Come. We have three flags to gather.”

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Faint though the signal was, each flag carried a distinct signature of energy. Following those traces, Yang-hwi collected four flags before the sun had even touched the horizon.

“Your perception of energy is extraordinary, Young Master Baek—I cannot detect even the faintest trace of these flags myself.”

“It only extends about twenty zhang in any case.” Even so, it made searching swift—no need to comb through brush or dig through soil.

“Four flags. That leaves one surplus, even if all of us advance together.” Jin Yeong-jin’s eyes shone with hope; to have two powerful peers in his group and yet advance so easily was more than he had dared imagine. But one matter remained unsettled.

“Young Heir Paeng.”

“Speak your mind.”

“It seems we ought to settle our wager.”

“Agreed.”

Jin Yeong-jin looked between them, confused. “What wager? We have more than enough flags—why fight among ourselves?”

Yang-hwi explained the terms they had agreed upon earlier. Jin Yeong-jin listened, then shook his head. “But why make such a bet when there is no need?”

“Also, these chains make it difficult to fight properly.” Paeng Wang’s saber alone stretched nearly six chi; to swing it freely would cut anyone standing nearby in two.

“Then let us do this: a restricted duel. We shall exchange one strike at a time, in turn. With these chains, neither can dodge—each must block what comes.”

Paeng Wang’s interest sharpened at once. “Standing our ground, trading blows like men slapping each other’s cheeks? A pure test of internal power, then.”

“Precisely so.”

“You realize this favors those of the Paeng line heavily. Our clan is known for sturdy frames and close-quarters might through the Five Tiger Sect’s arts.”

Yang-hwi smiled. “No confidence?”

“Confidence? I would never back down from such a challenge—Grandfather would never let me hear the end of it.” He rolled up his sleeves, already settling into stance.

Jin Yeong-jin groaned. “And why must I stand in the middle of all this?”

“Stand firm, and the extra flag is yours.”

“That is the prize?”

“Exactly. And I give you my word—no other group shall take it from you.”

“Then I shall endure it.”

Yang-hwi took his place three steps from Paeng Wang, as far apart as the connecting chains would allow. “Before we begin—do you know why the Great Sea Dragon King has invited me as his disciple?”

Paeng Wang shook his head. “The news has not reached us.”

“You shall see in a moment. It is simple enough: I possess an immense reserve of internal energy.”

“At your age… how is that possible?”

Yang-hwi grinned, lifting his sword. The blade began to tremble, glowing faintly. “You said these conditions favor the Paeng clan—and you are right. That is exactly why I chose them.”

He swung. A single strike carrying the weight of five jia of force.

Kwaaaaaang!