Chapter 239

Chapter 239
**Chapter 239: Round of Sixty-Four**

Hyun-geom, Namgung Cheon-yeong, Neung-o, Dang Gun, and the rest stood among those who truly held power, bound by an unspoken understanding. None felt the need to call out what everyone already sensed.

‘I just told everyone with fire in their veins to reach higher—so no one can say I’m backing down now.’

Still, Namgung Cheon-yeong was a different matter entirely. He would not be let off so easily.

“The Namgung Clan’s Soaring Heavens against my clan’s Heaven-Covering. Wouldn’t you love to see whose sword path stands supreme?”

Namgung Cheon-yeong offered no reply. He simply met Baek Yang-hwi’s gaze, steady and unwavering. In times past, he would have flared up and snapped instantly. But the humiliation he had endured before had left a deep mark, it seemed. Shaping someone through hardship was, it turned out, the surest way to help them grow.

“Well?” Baek Yang-hwi pressed. “Face me here and now—or pick someone who’s already singled you out and play it safe?”

If Namgung Cheon-yeong accepted, he would play right into the Sword Elder’s hands. Yet that scarcely mattered. Had Jin Yeong-jin not been in the picture, Baek Yang-hwi would have chosen Namgung Cheon-yeong himself and charged forward without hesitation.

‘Come on—decide. Either suits me.’

Would he choose a head-on, heart-stirring clash of equals? Or would he shrink away and bear the shame of being called a coward?

Resolution hardened in Namgung Cheon-yeong’s eyes—not the rage of someone seeking revenge for past disgrace, but the quiet resolve of someone determined to make things right through his own strength. Then he hesitated.

‘He’s receiving orders.’ Whatever message had come clearly conflicted with what he wanted to do himself. Baek Yang-hwi could hardly blame him; if he became Young Clan Heir, the Great Namgung Clan could wash away every misstep they had ever made. That was only natural. Did he even realize no one from his own clan present held higher standing than he did?

‘What will you do, Namgung Cheon-yeong?’

Namgung Cheon-yeong closed his eyes, then opened them with a quiet sigh.

“As Young Clan Heir, I have already pledged myself to another duel. Let us save this for another day.”

Baek Yang-hwi shrugged and stepped back. “Fair enough.”

A puppet, through and through. He might not see it now, but one day he would understand—whether those words were meant to guide him, or simply to direct a blade kept sharp for others.

“Very well. Then I shall accept Young Master Jin’s invitation. Let us make this memorable.”

Jin Yeong-jin nodded. “I am at your service.”

Baek Yang-hwi grinned and scanned the crowd. It seemed every match was already falling into place. A few pairings caught his eye—above all, Neung-o of the Azure Point Sect.

Neung-o raised his voice so all could hear. “Neung-o of the Azure Point Sect challenges Neung-wol, the Sect Leader’s own disciple.”

His opponent was no ordinary member of the sect: Neung-wol was the direct disciple of Sect Leader Bright Moon, and by extension, one of the Demonic Cult’s closest associates.

‘Brother Neung is stepping forward already? I did not expect him to draw his blade so soon.’

Baek Yang-hwi recalled what they had spoken of three years before: Neung-o’s vow to restore the Azure Point Sect through his own strength. Tomorrow would show whether he succeeded. It would be a contest between two lineages—the Sun-Shooting sword arts Neung-o upheld, and the Prismatic Sword style brought in from the Demonic Cult. Which would prove the stronger?

“Then again,” Baek Yang-hwi mused, “defeating Neung-wol alone will not purge the sect of every wrong. But I am sure he has his own plan.”

With that, the matchups for all sixty-four entrants in the True Dragon Tournament were finalized.

—

The Round of Sixty-Four began the very next day. Baek Yang-hwi volunteered to fight first—he would face Jin Yeong-jin, enjoy the contest, and then sit back and watch the rest unfold.

“Competitors, please take the stage!”

At the official’s call, Baek Yang-hwi and Jin Yeong-jin stepped forward and bowed to one another.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a duel to remember!” the herald called. “Baek Yang-hwi of the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan against Jin Yeong-jin of the Mountain Collapse Jin Clan—a meeting of two rising stars!”

The crowd responded with little enthusiasm. Word had spread the day before of the vast gap in skill between them; most expected a one-sided rout and saw little reason to get excited.

‘They are in for quite a surprise,’ Baek Yang-hwi thought.

Jin Yeong-jin looked tense but determined. “Custom grants the senior the first move, but if the junior stands equal, custom yields to skill. I shall begin, Young Master Baek.”

He settled into his stance and advanced, each step shaking the ground beneath him. Boom after boom, his footwork driving a relentless, powerful assault. He unleashed the signature technique of his clan: Mountain Collapse Ten Linked Strikes—said to be strong enough to shatter mountains with a single blow.

‘Superb technique,’ Baek Yang-hwi noted. Yet the difference between them was too great; he could have ended the fight in moments, more easily than he had dealt with lesser leaders of the Blood Alliance.

‘Let us make this worth your while, Young Master Jin.’

Fist met blade. The moment their energies collided, Jin Yeong-jin’s eyes went wide. Light scattered in brilliant shimmers all around them. Baek Yang-hwi had held back—deliberately, so his opponent might learn.

*Young Master Jin*, he sent silently, *this will be the finest lesson you have ever known. You will not regret choosing me.*

Clang. Clash. Ring. He could have stepped aside or struck at every opening, but he did not. He met each strike of the Ten Linked Strikes head-on, matching force with force, filling the arena with thunderous impact and ripples of power. Fragments of glowing energy drifted through the air, catching the light in dazzling displays.

“Ah!” the crowd cried out. “I thought this would be dull—this is magnificent!”

Hearing their cheers, Jin Yeong-jin finally understood what Baek Yang-hwi was doing.

‘Young Master Baek… you have given me the greatest stage, the finest chance I could ever hope for.’

He had begged for this opportunity, even knowing how humiliating it might be. Now he realized: even in defeat, he would walk away with more than he had ever dreamed. He could never have imagined his opponent would go to such lengths.

*Follow the rhythm*, Baek Yang-hwi guided him, his manner betraying nothing of the instruction. *Your style builds through momentum. Treat my sword as your training partner and meet each strike in turn.*

As he followed that advice, Jin Yeong-jin suddenly saw exactly how he should move.

*You grasped the very heart of Mountain Collapse Ten Linked Strikes in a single exchange—and you know how to teach it?* Jin Yeong-jin marveled. *What talent… scarcely past twenty years of age.*

*I have played the role of mentor many times*, Baek Yang-hwi reflected. *I am well suited to it.* He thought of Baek Heon-so, whom he had lifted from obscurity to the peak of cultivation at an age when most were still finding their way. To stand above every rising master under heaven? That was his achievement, earned through years of unrelenting effort that had given birth to Heaven-Covering 108 Swords and the Heavenly Harmony Origin Art.

“It is not arrogance to say this,” he whispered to himself, “but to reveal genius where others cannot see it—that is what I do best.”

“Then let us give them a show to remember! Fight with all your might!”

Jin Yeong-jin’s spirit blazed. “I will!”

After a hundred exchanges, Jin Yeong-jin saw and corrected a critical flaw in his technique. By two hundred, he understood how to flow from one strike to the next without wasted motion, his footwork falling naturally into rhythm. By three hundred, every step and blow came with thirty percent greater strength. He met each attack with growing confidence, and the crowd grew louder with every clash.

At four hundred exchanges, the duel came to an end.

“A match well fought, Young Master Jin.”

“I have learned more than I can say, Young Master Baek.”

Fist and sword bowed in mutual respect. The arena erupted in applause.

“Magnificent!”
“That is what a duel should be!”
“Heaven-Covering Sword Dragon! Heaven-Covering Sword Dragon!”
“Mountain Collapse Fist Dragon! Mountain Collapse Fist Dragon!”
“Both of you—thank you!”

Jin Yeong-jin beamed. This would be the proudest moment of his life. He had entered as an unknown, expected to fall at the first hurdle; now he would be remembered as the Mountain Collapse Fist Dragon, who had fought without yielding against the very best. All because he had chosen Baek Yang-hwi.

‘I thought I would leave in silence… thank you, Young Master Baek.’

Baek Yang-hwi gave a faint nod in return. ‘No need. This suited me perfectly too.’ He had avoided the Sword Elder’s trap, and more—now others would see how Jin Yeong-jin was honored. In the rounds ahead, many would seek him out as their opponent.

“The next match!” the herald called. “A-du of Shaolin against—”

Tournament matches continued. Winners advanced; others stepped down. Then it was Neung-o’s turn.

“Neung-o of the Azure Point Sect against Neung-wol of the Azure Point Sect! Competitors, please take the stage!”

Baek Yang-hwi glanced toward the sect elders. Sect Leader Bright Moon and the others looked entirely confident. Why would they not? Neung-o had always been given the hardest, most unglamorous tasks and had little time to train; Neung-wol had received every advantage. Victory seemed assured.

‘And Neung-wol practices Bright Qi Art too,’ Baek Yang-hwi noted. He focused his senses—and caught the faint, unmistakable taint of the Demonic Cult. To others it might seem merely unusual, but he recognized it instantly.

‘Bright Moon… that man is certainly one of them. Neung-wol and the others train in Prismatic Sword and Bright Qi Art. I wonder how this will unfold.’

If Neung-o lost here, Baek Yang-hwi would have to intervene directly in the affairs of the sect—a complication he would rather avoid. Yet somehow, he felt no doubt.

And so it proved.

In a single strike, one exchange, Neung-o’s blade found its mark. Neung-wol fell. Even for the Sun-Shooting Sword, known for ending fights in one blow, this was extraordinary.

‘Neung-wol was no weakling… Brother Neung has advanced far beyond what anyone expected.’

The Azure Point Sect elders sat stunned. Several disciples stood up in shock. Bright Moon’s face had hardened.

“Victory to Neung-o!”

Instead of leaving the stage, Neung-o turned toward the elders’ platform and stood tall. His voice carried across the arena.

“Elders—Sect Leader—I have something to say.”

Bright Moon spoke stiffly. “What is it?”

“I have defeated Neung-wol.”

“And?”

“You have always claimed Prismatic Sword is superior to Sun-Shooting—that our sect must abandon our own way. You are wrong.”

Baek Yang-hwi watched, impressed. ‘I thought beating one disciple would change nothing—but he is challenging the leader himself, here and now.’

“I speak as the heir to the true sword tradition of the Azure Point Sect, passed down from our Greatest Sword,” Neung-o declared. He stood before the leaders of the Nine Great Sects and Five Supreme Clans, before every spectator, and did not waver. “Stop poisoning this sect with falsehoods about Prismatic Sword.”

His words were treason under sect law—punishable by crippling, or worse. But Neung-o went further.

“If you believe I deserve punishment, come down here. Face the last disciple of Sun-Shooting yourself.”

‘Brave,’ Baek Yang-hwi thought. ‘I knew Bright Moon was tied to the Demonic Cult… but I never imagined Neung-o would challenge him directly.’

Bright Moon was vastly more powerful, the head of one of the greatest sects in the land. Yet Neung-o stood ready, his stance as straight and true as an arrow drawn to the bow, unshaken by the gulf between them.

‘If he could defeat Bright Moon, the Azure Point Sect would be restored in a single moment… and he means to do exactly that.’

Perhaps that was the true meaning of the Sun-Shooting Way: the courage to aim for heights others thought impossible.

Bright Moon stepped down onto the stage. “You have forgotten your place,” he said. “You have shamed your sect and committed a capital offense. I sentence you to death.”

Neung-o raised his sword. His resolve did not waver.

‘An arrow aimed at the very heavens,’ Baek Yang-hwi thought. ‘Can a mortal truly reach so high?’

The answer would be known today.