Chapter 24
Chapter 24: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
The liveliest market quarter in all of Ak’an County stretched toward the southwestern side of the Baek Estate.
This bustling thoroughfare had lately fallen under the sway of the Suho Alliance, one of the four dominant powers controlling the area. Along its paved avenue, a carriage rolled steadily forward, bearing Baek Muryang, his offspring, Zhuge Seon, and Zhuge Seolha.
“Brother Baek,” Zhuge Seon remarked, peering through the carriage window with obvious intrigue. “From your earlier descriptions, I assumed the dark path had Ak’an County firmly beneath its thumb, yet swaggering scoundrels seem rather scarce.”
A satisfied, gentle grin touched Baek Muryang’s mouth. “The presence of those dark-path roughnecks in Ak’an County has dwindled remarkably in recent days, Brother Zhuge.”
“Now that you mention it, didn’t several of the tales you recounted about Yanghwi involve running afoul of those very ruffians?”
While their conversation drifted, the carriage eased to a stop outside the grandest drinking establishment situated along the southwestern banks of Yuhang Lake.
This was Yuwa Pavilion, an establishment whose characters suggested the leisurely meandering of a resting river.
Arrayed before the entrance stood several leaders representing the various sects of the Suho Alliance.
“Greetings. I am Yang Garyung, leader of the Suho Alliance. Greetings to Patriarch Baek Muryang of the Baek Estate, as well as…”
The speaker paused momentarily, shifting his gaze toward the next guest before proceeding.
“You must surely be the Peerless Dragon, Hero Zhuge Seon, esteemed young master of the Noble Zhuge Clan.”
Regardless of any disparity in pedigree between the two lineages, Baek Muryang was indisputably the head of this visiting delegation. Yet Alliance Leader Yang Garyung deliberately addressed Zhuge Seon as though he were the chief guest.
A tiny twitch crossed Zhuge Seon’s brow for the briefest instant, followed immediately by an expansive, hearty belly laugh.
“Indeed, Alliance Leader Yang Garyung. My elder brother had affairs to attend to here, and I merely tagged along on a whim to enjoy the fresh air. I trust my presence causes no inconvenience?”
Though framed as lighthearted banter, the remark bore a subtle edge, unmistakably clarifying who was the true guest and who held the reins.
Chastened, Yang Garyung had no choice but to turn back and formally pay his respects to Baek Muryang.
“Though we share the same county, opportunities to greet one another have been rare. I am Yang Garyung, leader of the Suho Alliance and master of the Yang Brew Sect.”
By rights of either prestige or years, Yang Garyung was under no obligation to employ peak honorifics before Baek Muryang. Yet having used such elevated courtesy with Zhuge Seon—who in turn hailed Baek Muryang as his elder brother—he had trapped himself into speaking with utmost reverence.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Alliance Leader,” Baek Muryang answered evenly, his courtesy polite yet distant, having fully caught the earlier intentional slight.
In this subtle contest of status between the Suho Alliance and the Baek Estate, the opening exchange went entirely to the latter.
Noticing the brief grimace souring Yang Garyung’s features, Yanghwi stifled an amused smirk.
My new uncle certainly knows how to wield words like blades.
A single sentence from Zhuge Seon had upended the power dynamics of the entire assembly. For all his martial obsession that earned him the title of Peerless Dragon, he remained the young scion of the renowned Divine Strategist Zhuge family.
“Come, please step inside, both of you. Ah, are the young ones coming with us? The youth from our alliance taking part in the sparring matches have gathered in a separate courtyard to get ready.”
Baek Muryang glanced between his three offspring and Zhuge Seon.
“Brother Zhuge, it would be wisest for Seolha and Yeon to stay with our party. Hwi and So, being competitors in the tournament, can proceed on their own.”
“Father, wait, Yeon wanted to—” Baek Yeonyeon started to pout, eager to remain beside her older brothers, but Yanghwi quickly stepped in to soothe her.
He understood his father’s reasoning: if Zhuge Seon were flanked only by Seolha, onlookers might scrutinize the girl, but keeping Yeonyeon beside her made the arrangement look entirely natural.
Yeon, stay quietly beside Father for now, and I will treat you to some delicious sweets later, Yanghwi projected through internal qi transmission.
Baek Yeonyeon’s eyes expanded with excitement, and she gave an eager, bright nod, a wide smile breaking across her face.
Without making a sound, her lips formed the word: Promise!
With their plans settled, Yanghwi and Baek Heonso separated from their elders and followed a designated attendant.
“Young masters, the other participants are gathered right through here.”
Within the expansive courtyard indicated by the guide, roughly a hundred youngsters were loosening up, brandishing wooden sabers and spears. Even taking into account that the Suho Alliance encompassed over a dozen constituent sects, a hundred participants was a remarkable turnout. Several appeared nearly fifteen years old.
The Suho Alliance has affiliated escort bureaus as well, come to think of it. Did they round up the trainees from those escort halls too? Let us see what caliber they possess…
These were groups so modest that ten of them had to join forces just to counterbalance a single Honggyo Gang. None of the youths displayed particularly remarkable martial arts, though Yanghwi did spot one boy whose latent talent seemed bright enough to warrant scouting into the Baek family later.
As that thought drifted through his mind…
“Are you two the little runts from the Baek Estate?”
Before either could react, four boys had circled around Baek Heonso and Yanghwi, disdain curling on their lips. A single glance was enough to tell they viewed the two newcomers with clear contempt.
These youngsters must have heard a few disparaging remarks about our family from their parents.
“Should we trade names? Who might you be?”
Unlike Yanghwi, who remained quietly observant, Baek Heonso was young, earnest, and completely guileless. He immediately offered an energetic cupped-fist greeting.
“I am Baek Heonso of the Baek Estate! Well met!”
“I am Yang Hak of the Yang Brew Sect.”
Unlike Baek Heonso, Yang Hak did not bother to return the formal salute. The deliberate insult was plain to see, and Baek Heonso’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson.
Before the boy could flare up, Yanghwi laid a calming palm upon his shoulder and gave a gentle shake of his head. “So, the bouts are about to begin.”
“Older Brother…”
Children are always like this. If you don’t curb their arrogance from the outset, their antics become an endless nuisance.
Yanghwi briefly remembered the Baek Heonso of some time ago—that petulant child who had shouted that he would never acknowledge an adopted stray as an older brother. Now, having had the proper pecking order firmly established and balanced with appropriate rewards, he had become an affectionate, obedient sibling.
Well, it is too troublesome to squabble with them out here. I will instruct them thoroughly once the tournament gets underway.
Shortly thereafter, the guide re-entered the courtyard, raising his voice across the grounds. “The elders have concluded their opening addresses! All young masters participating in the matches, follow me!”
Along the scenic banks of Yuhang Lake, within the banquet chamber of Yuwa Pavilion.
A lavish feast was laid out upon an elevated wooden dais, while two sparring rings had been set up on the floor below.
Quite literally staged as dining entertainment and appetizers for the adults. Though I suppose most youth exhibitions end up this way.
“The matches will be split into a junior bracket and a youth bracket,” an official announced. “You are free to issue a challenge to anyone you wish, and the contender who tallies the highest number of wins shall be crowned champion.”
One participant raised his hand and voiced a question. “If we wish to fight the opening bout, do we simply step onto the platform?”
“Precisely, young master.”
Just as Yanghwi was reflecting on the sheer simplicity of the format, Baek Heonso marched briskly onto the stage without hesitation.
He hollered across the floor, “Yang Hak of the Yang Brew Sect! I challenge you to a match!”
He was clearly determined to repay the earlier disrespect.
That might still be too tall an order for So.
Though Heonso had trained diligently for over two years, the bulk of that foundation had been rooted in third-rate martial arts, and he had practiced the divine art for a mere handful of days. Moreover, Yang Hak held an advantage of three or four years in age, leaving Heonso with little probability of success.
Even so, Yanghwi made no effort to hold him back.
Bitter defeat serves as nourishing soil as well.
With a quick signal from the adjudicator, the clash commenced.
“Hah!”
Clack! Thwack!
Just as Yanghwi had anticipated, Baek Heonso failed to claim the victory.
And yet…
“Halt! Young Master Baek Heonso has dropped his weapon. The victory is conceded!”
Heonso had by no means rolled over meekly. He had battled fiercely enough to strip every shred of smugness from Yang Hak’s face, forcing his older rival to burn through substantial breath and effort.
He truly has progressed remarkably over these past few months.
Compared to his previous life… No, there was simply no comparison to be drawn.
Glancing toward the elevated seating, Yanghwi caught sight of Baek Muryang gazing down upon Baek Heonso with an expression of warm paternal pride.
Having retrieved his fallen wooden sword, Heonso trudged back to Yanghwi’s side, his countenance drooping with shame.
“I am sorry, Brother…”
“Hmm? What are you apologizing for?”
“I charged out there so boastfully, only to lose and tarnish the family honor.”
“Before any grown-up thinks you tarnished anything, they will marvel at the sheer bravery of a child taking on an opponent several years older. And furthermore…” Yanghwi let out a warm laugh, playfully ruffling Baek Heonso’s hair. “So, what does it matter if you get some dirt on our name? I will simply splash some water over it and wash it clean.”
Resting the blunt wooden blade casually over his shoulder, Yanghwi pushed gently off the ground with the balls of his feet.
With that effortless, fluid leap, he somersaulted cleanly through the air and came down lightly in the center of the arena.
“Well now, that is quite the graceful footwork.”
“The lightfoot art on that boy is astonishing.”
“He looks barely old enough for the junior bracket. Has he trained exclusively in mobility arts?”
Letting the quiet astonishment of the crowd wash over him, Yanghwi gave his practice weapon an offhand twirl. “Yang Hak of the Yang Brew Sect, was it?”
Though his skin tone and vitality had flourished under proper care over recent months, Yanghwi had spent years living as a beggar. He remained small of stature for his years, whereas Yang Hak possessed an imposing frame even among his contemporaries.
Hearing himself addressed without honorifics by someone who looked distinctly younger brought an instant scowl to Yang Hak’s face.
“What an insolent little runt.”
“Whether I am insolent or not, you will discover the moment our blades cross.”
“They say a newborn puppy knows no fear of a tiger.”
A malicious sneer crept across Yang Hak’s face as he leaned closer, dropping his voice so the seniors above could not catch his words. “Prepare to have an arm snapped. I am going to teach you your place.”
Completely unbothered, Yanghwi merely offered an easy, languid smile.
How much of my strength should I unveil?
He held two distinct aims for this gathering.
First, seize the championship and claim the prize promised by Zhuge Seon. Second…
Bolster the standing and renown of our estate. There is a ceiling to how rapidly we can recruit personnel at present, but if word spreads far and wide that our house is a cradle harboring crouching dragons…
“Both competitors, take your stances. The clash commences the moment the dropped coin strikes the floor.”
Hearing the arbiter’s rule, Yanghwi settled on his course of action.
The bronze piece soared high into the air, ringing crisp as it hit the paving slabs.
BZZZZ!
A piercing, metallic drone—reminiscent of the frenzied buzzing of a swarm of wasps—reverberated beneath the open sky.
Thud!
The bout was finished.
“Uh… Ah… Young Master Yang Hak has lost consciousness… The victory belongs to Young Master Baek Yanghwi!”
Neither the young competitors watching nor the elders assembled upon the dais applauded or cheered; not a single person had comprehended what had just unfolded.
Amid the heavy, dumbfounded hush, Baek Muryang let slip a breathless gasp.
“The Bee Wing realm…!”
Within the marginal notes recorded in the Heaven-Splitting Sword Records that Yeo Hyeok had delivered, a distinct principle was inscribed:
When the opening three forms of the fifty-four techniques blend seamlessly into a single strike, it echoes the rapid flutter of bee wings; this state is known as the Bee Wing realm.
Have you truly attained the third star of the Hundred and Eight Heaven-Splitting Swords already, Hwi?!
It had been barely two weeks since Yanghwi first claimed to have unlocked the first star. To break through into the third star within such a fleeting span was a terrifying demonstration of innate martial talent, leaving Baek Muryang utterly shaken.
“How in the world can a child of that age move with such blinding quickness?!”
“Did you catch that sword trajectory? Fast enough to make the blade sing!”
“How could an eight-year-old overwhelm a fifteen-year-old in the blink of an eye?!”
Following Baek Muryang’s realization, the onlookers began erupting into clamorous exclamations across the hall.
Among the crowd, Zhuge Seon peered down at Yanghwi, his eyes burning with intense fascination.
Soaking in the breathless awe of the pavilion, Yanghwi flashed a grin and launched himself skyward once more.
He touched down gently upon the adjacent sparring ring reserved for the youth division.
“It appears there is no challenge for me in the junior bracket. Would any of the senior young masters care to step forward and impart some guidance?”
The boundary separating the junior and youth divisions was drawn at twelve years of age, marking the threshold where physical maturity typically surged.
Witnessing an eight-year-old child openly volunteer to face rivals up to fifteen years of age sent a fresh wave of disbelief rippling through the gathering.
“Even if he possesses extraordinary technique…”
“Taking on someone up to seven years his senior? That is reckless arrogance.”
“Seven years difference means someone nearly twice his age, haha!”
Paying no heed to the surrounding chatter, Yanghwi leveled the tip of his wooden sword toward one of the sturdier youths standing below. “You over there, the big fellow. Why don’t you and I exchange a few pointers?”
The youth he indicated snorted in contempt. “You let your ego reach the clouds simply because you caught Hak off guard with a parlor trick!”
“Oh? And what might your relation be to Young Master Yang Hak?”
“I am Yang Yeom of the Yang Brew Sect, Hak’s older brother.”
Of all the people here, he happens to be the older brother? What an amusing coincidence.
Amused by the irony, Yanghwi replied with casual nonchalance. “Young Master Yang Yeom. If you refuse to step up, folks might start whispering that you are terrified of an eight-year-old boy, wouldn’t you say?”
“Ha!”
Yang Yeom vaulted straight onto the platform. “Suit yourself. I will settle Hak’s score right here and now.”
The moment the arbiter’s hand dropped, Yang Yeom burst forward with momentum that far surpassed his brother’s, driving his practice blade downward with brutal intensity.
“HYAH!”
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