Chapter 79
Chapter 79: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
“Sword Dwarf? Did you just say Sword Dwaaarff?”
Leaping up from his seat, Yanghwi marched straight over to the band of youths.
With every stride closing the distance, the disparity in their statures became impossible to ignore.
While the young fellows appeared to be martial practitioners in their own right, none possessed a build anywhere near as thickset, solid, and intensely forged as Yanghwi’s.
Put bluntly, standing beside him made them resemble frail little twigs.
Painfully so.
“Sword Dwarf, you say? Who exactly is the dwarf here? From where I stand, you look an awful lot more like a scrawny shrimp than I do.”
“…”
Temporarily shaken by Yanghwi’s guttural rumble, the lead youth fought to regain his composure.
Snap. A folding fan snapped open.
“Ahem. You display far less courtesy than I would have presumed, Young Master Sword Dwarf.”
Adopting an arrogant, aristocratic cadence, the fellow languidly waved the fan before his chest.
The rascal was not an heir of the Zhuge family, so what business did an ordinary martial artist have fluttering a fan about?
That self-satisfied smirk was downright irritating.
— Chief. That scoundrel clearly walked over here hoping to pick a brawl.
— Yeah. I can see that.
Even granting that Yanghwi had bristled over the moniker Sword Dwarf, presuming to lecture him on etiquette at their initial meeting?
It proved beyond doubt that the fellow had arrived with the deliberate intention of starting trouble.
Internal energy hovering just beyond half a gapja. A decently honed frame. The physical traces of his training suggest an emphasis on bare-handed techniques.
— Chudal. Do you recognize this nuisance?
Unlike past days when his mentor Yeo Hyeok was merely a retained guest, Yeo Hyeok now presided as the pavilion master of Baekri Pavilion, the primary intelligence arm of the Baek Estate.
Consequently, Chudal held the sharpest regional information among everyone present.
— Word is the young gang leader of the Jeongwol Sect has a bizarre fondness for waving a folding fan everywhere. That must be him. The name is Jeong Myeonggun, and he lacks an epithet entirely.
The Jeongwol Sect?
Presently, the Baek Estate found itself locked in a three-way contest for supremacy over Muju.
One of those contending factions was none other than the Jeongwol Sect. And Gyeongyang County served as their primary base of operations.
The young gang leader of the Jeongwol Sect came seeking me out. Wholly determined to start a quarrel.
The board was read. Having settled on how to handle the interloper, Yanghwi parted his lips.
“I lack courtesy?”
Splitting his face into a broad, utterly unabashed grin, he shifted his gaze toward the tavern attendant.
“Brother waiter! When might our dishes be served?”
“Ah, w-well… They will be brought to your table right away, esteemed customer!”
Having remained frozen in sheer dread while watching the standoff between Jeong Myeonggun and Yanghwi, the attendant scampered off without missing a heartbeat.
Meanwhile, the breezy fluttering of Jeong Myeonggun’s fan seized up entirely.
Yanghwi had addressed a common tavern server as an honored brother, treating him with open deference.
The deliberate slight embedded within the act was unmistakable.
Grind.
“Young Master Sword Dwarf. Hearing tales of your fame, I had hoped to encounter you in the flesh, yet I never envisioned you would turn out to be such an uncouth creature.”
“Envisioned what? I match the rumors and my reputation down to the letter.”
Where else in the realm could anyone find an individual as pure and clear as mountain spring water, through and through?
“You keep squawking ‘Sword Dwarf, Sword Dwarf’—why should I tolerate that noise from someone who doesn’t even match my height?”
“Sword Dwarf is the very title bound to your prestige, so how else ought I address you? Am I mistaken, Young. Master. Sword. Dwarf?”
Listen to this clown digging his heels into every single syllable.
“Well, that’s fair enough. In that case, how should I address you? Deeply regretful to say, but I haven’t the faintest inkling who you are.”
When Yanghwi mockingly pierced him for putting on airs despite having zero renown to his credit, Jeong Myeonggun’s features twisted into an even uglier sneer as he ground his teeth together.
“I am Jeong Myeonggun, young gang leader of the Jeongwol Sect.”
“I asked for your epithet, not your clan position.”
“…”
“No epithet? Surely you aren’t telling me you lack one entirely? Looking at that face of yours, you reached your capping ceremony years ago.”
“…”
“Come now, that can’t be. How can any true practitioner of the martial path wander the world without an epithet? Isn’t that so, Brother Hidden Dragon?”
Tang Gun, who had been observing the entire spectacle with visible amusement, piped up:
“A mere fledgling who has only just dipped his toes into the rivers and lakes might lack one, I suppose.”
“Is that how it works? Having carried mine since the age of ten, I wouldn’t have known. BWAHAHAHA!”
Yanghwi threw his head back in roaring laughter while carefully tracking Jeong Myeonggun’s reaction.
Repaying a pinch with a stinging slap was the only way to do things.
Ah, what a delightful sensation.
“Young Master Sword Dwarf. The whispers celebrated your prowess with the blade, but it seems your silver tongue is no less formidable.”
“Unlike certain folk, I happen to be a gentleman without a single blemish.”
“…You speak the truth. I possess many shortcomings, even to the extent of lacking a personal epithet. For that very reason, I dared to hope Young Master Sword Dwarf might afford me an opportunity.”
An opportunity? So that was this clown’s underlying motive all along?
Hoping to latch onto my coattails for an easy ascent, are we?
From the vantage point of the Jeongwol Sect, the Baek Estate stood as their most infuriating adversary.
Yet while the eldest young lord of the Baek family steadily accumulated martial glory across the realm day after day, the young gang leader of the Jeongwol Sect had yet to secure even a shred of an honorable title.
Inevitably, the teahouses and alleys would be rife with gossip comparing the two heirs.
If you don’t possess an epithet, go bash the heads of some dark-path scoundrels to forge your own name. What gave this wretch the nerve to try this angle on me?
What was the swiftest route for a martial artist to amass prestige?
Simple.
Topple a renowned figure in formal combat.
From that moment on, one claimed the glorious distinction of having conquered so-and-so.
Perhaps owing to an overly sheltered upbringing that allowed him to reach his current age without earning a single title, he appeared hopelessly addicted to taking shortcuts.
He genuinely believed he held the upper hand against me.
The brazen insolence is almost impressive, isn’t it?
I battered the young leader of the Gyojin Gang into the dirt when I was barely ten and he was twenty winters old.
How could he possibly dare to look down on me?
…Yet on second thought, the delusion was somewhat understandable.
He likely convinced himself that the circulating tales were gross fabrications and tall tales.
Ordinary reason dictated that an ankle-biting child besting a fully grown martial artist was pure fantasy.
Considering how astonishing those historic feats were, Jeong Myeonggun had almost certainly written them off as manufactured clan propaganda.
And if not that…
“What do you say, Young Master Sword Dwarf? Will you not impart a lesson upon me?”
“Listen here. You secured proper approval before coming over to make demands, didn’t you?”
“Approval? We would merely be crossing arms in a singular bout—whose permission could I possibly require?”
Yanghwi’s eyelids narrowed, the corners of his mouth curling into a sinister arc.
So you slipped out and strutted over here without informing your senior elders, eh?
He had wondered what possessed the fellow to execute such a brainless maneuver.
It was nothing more than an ignorant greenhorn blundering ahead on his own, blinded by an insatiable craving for prestige.
“That suits me just fine.”
Yanghwi had sworn an oath to himself just days earlier: whoever dared utter the hated alias ‘Sword Dwarf’ directly to his face, regardless of their status, would receive a merciless thrashing.
Now then.
How should I dismantle him so the tale echoes far and wide across the land?
Indeed. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
You possessed the sheer gall to fling the title I detest most straight into my teeth?
I’ll stamp a moniker onto your forehead ten times more humiliating than Sword Dwarf.
“Ah, providing instruction is no trouble whatsoever. However, you must understand, I cannot simply offer my guidance for free.”
“Are you asking for silver? The Baek Estate’s coffers must be running exceptionally thin these days.”
“Hardly. But when accepting enlightenment from a peerless talent seen only once in an era like myself, you ought to display suitable hospitality. I will pay a visit to the Jeongwol Sect tomorrow morning. Ensure a feast is laid out.”
Though Yanghwi threw out the demand largely as a taunting jab, Jeong Myeonggun’s expression bloomed with open satisfaction instead.
“A banquet. Excellent. I shall instruct them to prepare an opulent spread. Hahahaha!”
The fool still hasn’t comprehended where he actually stands.
Does he truly believe he will win the match, host a lavish feast, and thoroughly demean me before his entire clan?
Well, so much the better.
If the prospective master of their rival faction was an incompetent fool, it was purely a blessing for the Baek family.
Right. Since we’re staging a show, why not widen the stage even further?
A generational prodigy should always strive to fell far more than two birds with one stone.
Time to ensure the Jeongwol Sect never presumes to brand itself a rival of the Baek house ever again.
— Chudal, I have an assignment for you.
— Give the command, Chief.
After outlining a series of precise maneuvers to Chudal, Yanghwi smirked inwardly as he pictured the theatrical performance awaiting them the following day.
The following morning.
“My apologies, Merchant Jin. I deeply regret delaying our escort duties over a personal entanglement.”
“Gwahaha! Do not give it another thought! To the contrary, getting to witness Young Master Baek’s—er, Sword… Young Master Baek’s martial display with my own eyes is an extraordinary privilege!”
Jin Geumbo chuckled with hearty resonance before adding:
“Still, is it truly wise for someone like me to tag along? I have serious doubts that the Jeongwol Sect will permit my entry.”
“There is no need for concern. I have arranged matters so they will have no choice but to throw their gates wide.”
Yanghwi offered an amused grin at Jin Geumbo’s bewildered expression.
“Shall we set out, everyone?”
The party made their way toward the headquarters of the Jeongwol Sect, situated roughly half a shichen away.
“Please proceed within…”
Evidently briefed beforehand, the guards stationed at the entrance of the Jeongwol Sect wore grim, suffocating scowls.
It appears the senior council finally discovered the grand mess their young gang leader stirred up.
“Welcome, Young Hero Sword Dwarf.”
Ah. Sword Dwarf yet again?
Yanghwi cast a sideways, scrutinizing glance toward the speaker, who was none other than the Jeongwol Sect leader himself.
“You must be the esteemed Jeongwol Sect leader.”
Because basic decorum had to be maintained, Yanghwi offered a formal cupped-fist salute.
“I have presented myself today following the challenge to a duel issued to me yesterday by your young gang leader.”
“Ahem, concerning that unfortunate affair…”
Stationed beside the sect leader, who appeared thoroughly drained and vexed, Jeong Myeonggun stood with his head hanging low like a thoroughly chastised child.
Looks as though he was roasted over the coals until his ears burned.
“It seems our Myeonggun acted with excessive impertinence. To atone for his impudence, I have arranged a modest banquet within. Why not join us inside so we might converse with mutual sincerity?”
Tsk, not a chance in hell.
Having firmly seized such a pristine advantage, he had no intention of allowing them to retract their blunder.
“I am afraid that will not be possible.”
The features of the Jeongwol Sect leader visibly froze.
Paying his discomfort no heed, Yanghwi pushed ahead relentlessly.
“The young gang leader of the Jeongwol Sect formally challenged me, the eldest young lord of the Baek clan, to an exchange of martial arts. Spoken words are like spilt water—they cannot be retrieved into the cup. A formal challenge once declared cannot be quietly brushed under the rug.”
Naturally, had all parties assembled here consented to act as though nothing had transpired, the matter could easily be swept into the shadows.
The fundamental issue was that Yanghwi held zero desire to grant them any such mercy.
“The young gang leader is not the only soul eager for enlightenment today. Shall we exchange a few techniques?”
With those final words, he flicked his fingers into an audible snap.
Springing into action at the prearranged cue, Chudal carried out his task, and before long an enormous uproar erupted just beyond the primary threshold of the Jeongwol Sect.
A deafening, clamorous roar echoed straight into the courtyard.
An agitated martial artist of the Jeongwol Sect sprinted over to the sect leader, breathlessly reporting the source of the commotion.
“A massive assembly of people has gathered at the front gates?”
Yanghwi intervened to reply on his behalf.
“Yesterday, Jeong Myeong… wait, was the name Myeonggun?”
“It is Jeong Myeonggun!”
“Ah, pardon my lapse. I suffer from a dreadful habit of failing to retain the names of those with minimal martial prestige.”
“…”
Flashing a wickedly sharp grin, Yanghwi forged ahead.
“Regardless, observing the mannerisms of the young gang leader, he seemed so utterly starving for glory. Thus, I simply decided to extend a helpful hand.”
The task he had entrusted to Chudal the prior evening was none other than rounding up an immense audience.
The intelligence department of the Baek Estate, Baekri Pavilion, had been erected upon the bedrock of Yeo Hyeok’s Thief Net and the operational communication corridors of the Gaecheon Escort Service.
Its reach may still be modest, but across the boundaries of Muju, it functions with supreme efficiency.
The multitude assembled outside had all caught wind of the sensational rumors deliberately circulated by Baekri Pavilion.
Within a mere span of twenty-four hours, they had drawn together an overwhelming crowd like gathering storm clouds.
“Young Gang Leader Jeong Myeonggun of the Jeongwol Sect. Did you not beseech this humble martial brother for instruction only yesterday?”
Yanghwi purposely shifted his cadence into one of impeccable refinement. While he had traded coarse and insolent barbs the previous day, a cultivator could not afford to appear unrefined before an ocean of spectators.
Stepping forward in his capacity as the eldest young lord of the Baek house meant that his conduct directly mirrored the prestige of his lineage.
Projecting a pristine exterior is child’s play, after all.
He extended his arm forward in a grand, sweeping arc. As he moved, the hem of his outer garment billowed gracefully in the breeze.
The emblem of a black hawk, exquisitely stitched into his unblemished white silk, captured the light with striking clarity.
“I am Baek Yanghwi of the Baek Estate. Accordant with your wishes, I shall gladly bestow enlightenment upon you.”
The instant Yanghwi’s voice ceased, murmurs of awe rippled through the spectators watching from the periphery.
“Truly, he possesses the breathtaking bearing of a supreme generational talent!”
“The tales proclaimed the eldest young lord of the Baek house was an extraordinary prodigy from his youth, yet the reality surpasses the legend!”
It seems the outer presentation has worked wonders.
Now, let us alter the inner reality.
“Though I count fewer winters than you, as one who established martial standing across the lands earlier, I shall yield the opening strike to you.”
Yet even as those magnanimous words rolled smoothly from his lips, he simultaneously projected a secret qi transmission straight into the youth’s ears.
— Engrave these words onto your very soul as though spoken by your honored master, and revere them as pure gold and flawless jade. Do you hear me?
Jeong Myeonggun’s eyes flared wide with shock, his visage instantly flushing with uncontrollable rage.
“I have long heard that the Moon Trace Fist Technique of the Jeongwol Sect stands unmatched under the heavens, and today I shall finally have the honor of beholding it.”
— Little wretch, the pathetic arts of your clan wouldn’t even be deemed worthy of sweeping the courtyards in the Baek Estate.
“An ancient adage teaches that when three traverse the road together, one will unfailingly serve as my teacher; therefore, I too shall seek enlightenment from the young gang leader’s fists.”
— Strutting around like a puffed-up peacock after mastering some third-rate garbage art. Good grief.
“…”
— To begin with, you worthless rascal, are you so desperate for a scrap of fame that you must resort to bullying a tender, fifteen-year-old youth to seize it?
“…”
— A scoundrel ten years my senior throwing a childish tantrum like an overgrown brat.
“Eeeek…!”
Jeong Myeonggun’s restraint finally shattered into pieces.
“I will personally ensure you never flap that venomous tongue again!”
The deed was done. Jeong Myeonggun stormed directly onto the duel grounds.
Taking in the sour, decaying scowls plastering the faces of the Jeongwol Sect leader and his circle of elders, Yanghwi could not contain a widening smirk.
Shall I carve a lesson so deep into your bones that you finally understand what true, unadulterated humiliation feels like?
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