Chapter 81
Chapter 81: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
The martial world held deep reverence for the order of generational seniority.
Much like a son deferring to his father and that father bowing before his own sire, an unbending hierarchy governed the lineage and standing within every sect.
Among the venerable Nine Sects, for instance, fresh recruits entering the gates were designated as third-generation disciples. Positioned above them were the disciples of the second and first generations, while the absolute pinnacle belonged to the supreme figures of authority—the venerated elders and the sect leader.
“Which of the three honorable elders will offer this junior guidance?”
To put it plainly, Yanghwi, who possessed the generational standing of nothing more than a mere third-generation novice, had brazenly called out an elder equal to—if not surpassing—a first-generation authority. The elders of the Jeongwol Sect stiffened instantly, their expressions darkening with severe displeasure.
Their outrage was entirely predictable. To them, it felt like an insolent grandson challenging his own grandfather to a brawl.
Measured either by martial mastery or sect seniority, it appeared as absurd as a blind puppy snapping at an adult tiger.
At least on the surface.
“Insolent pup of the Baek clan.”
Stepping forth first was the elder bearing the most volatile and fiery demeanor of the trio.
— That’s Gyeokwolkwon Jang Jubong, Chudal’s voice chimed via sound transmission. Word has it he earned that title because his fury burns hot enough to shatter the moon itself. He’s an apex realm master.
Absorbing Chudal’s whispered warning, Yanghwi clasped his hands in a respectful fist-and-palm salute once again.
“Ah, Elder Gyeokwolkwon. Will you deign to instruct this humble junior?”
Unlike their young leader, whose foolish bravado had sparked this commotion in the first place, Gyeokwolkwon had navigated the murky waters of the martial world for upwards of three decades. With all that seasoned experience, he saw right through Yanghwi’s ploy, and that realization only made his blood boil hotter.
“You dare attempt to turn Myeonggun’s shallow scheme right back on us? You truly believe you have the skill to pull it off!”
Jeong Myeonggun had picked a fight with Yanghwi solely to seize fast fame, only to stumble into a humiliating catastrophe. It was the predictable fate of a fool who inflated his own ego while grossly undervaluing his foe. Striking down a renowned adversary brought glorious prestige, but tasting defeat turned the entire gambit into a mortifying ruin.
Now, Yanghwi was turning the exact same tables on them.
“When a mere junior respectfully petitions a revered elder for guidance, why would such a thing require grand confidence?”
Gyeokwolkwon gritted his teeth, thoroughly incensed by Yanghwi’s mocking nonchalance.
“Very well. I shall impart your lesson—and break half the bones in your body doing it!”
With a powerful surge, Gyeokwolkwon leaped onto the elevated arena. Yanghwi’s gaze flicked toward the Jeongwol Sect leader.
He has no intention whatsoever of intervening. Of course, it would be far stranger if he did.
The crushing disgrace suffered by their young leader had dragged the Jeongwol Sect’s dignity through the mud. The sect leader undoubtedly believed that only by letting Gyeokwolkwon grind Yanghwi into the flagstones could they salvage whatever remained of their shattered pride.
Besides, with an apex realm master like Gyeokwolkwon already stepping onto the stage, trying to pull him back now would be an excruciating embarrassment.
The barrier separating one from the apex realm was often called the threshold of transcending humanity. Beyond that boundary, every dimension of a martial artist’s combat capability transformed down to its roots. It had even fostered an undisputed martial maxim recognized throughout the lands:
A martial artist who has not reached the apex realm cannot defeat an apex realm master, no matter what tricks they employ.
An apex realm master was an enlightened combatant who wielded the principles of mind-directed qi, intent inflicting injury, and materializing blade energy, fusing body, breath, and will into seamless perfection. A combatant situated in the first-rate realm or lower could never hope to triumph over such an existence. That was an unassailable law of the martial arts world.
“Phew.”
Well then. It was time to shake the foundation of the world.
Chudal folded his arms as he kept his eyes glued to Yanghwi on the elevated platform. He had obeyed every order given to him so far, yet he still could not fathom the bizarre thoughts running through the boy’s mind. Unable to suppress his curiosity, he leaned over and muttered, “Young Lord Tang. What in heaven’s name is that gu… er, what is Big Brother plotting?”
Throughout the years they had spent side by side, Yanghwi and Tang Gun had developed an easy, casual rapport. Chudal, on the other hand, treated Yanghwi with cheeky irreverence while maintaining strict deference toward Tang Gun.
“Brother Hwi’s inner thoughts… remain a mystery to me as well.”
Tang Gun’s lips curved into an amused half-smile. Ever since their paths first crossed when Yanghwi was merely eight years old, he had never once managed to anticipate what went on behind those calculating eyes.
“Be reasonable, Young Lord. Strictly speaking, there’s not a single thing to gain by clashing with an elder of the Jeongwol Sect, is there?”
“That is true. A victory would yield immense rewards, but securing a win is a brutally steep climb.”
“Steep? Isn’t it plain impossible?”
Chudal was entirely correct. For Yanghwi, securing victory against an apex realm master of Gyeokwolkwon’s caliber was an insurmountable feat.
Mind-directed qi: qi moves effortlessly wherever the mind commands.
Intent inflicting injury: striking down an adversary through the sheer projection of focused will.
Materializing blade energy: molding formless, intangible qi into an indestructible, razor-sharp physical manifestation.
These constituted the trinity of enlightenments required to cross the threshold into the apex realm. In essence, an apex realm master could crush opponents through pure aura alone, maintain total dominance over the release and retraction of internal qi, and wield that ultimate offensive manifestation known as blade energy. Naturally, since Gyeokwolkwon was a pugilist who fought with bare hands, his power manifested as fist energy.
“He has pulled off impossible feats time and again, so he must harbor a scheme this time as well.”
In Tang Gun’s eyes, Yanghwi was an extraordinary figure, regardless of his unmatched martial talent. Though younger in age, he possessed a mind that anyone could learn from. This clash would surely be no different.
Brother Hwi never enters a trade at a loss. So let me see it.
Show me how you intend to wring profit out of a contest where no profit exists.
“Brother Chudal. Let us observe closely. Seen from another angle, does this not make for rather thrilling theater?”
“Ha, fair enough. I’m actually dying to see what expression Big Brother wears once he gets pounded into dust after strutting around with his nose in the clouds.”
A roguish smirk spread across Chudal’s face. Tang Gun’s smile widened in response.
“Quite right. Even should it conclude that way, it will certainly provide fine entertainment.”
“Right? Give him hell, Gyeokwolkwon!”
At that precise second.
“Ah, the dance begins.”
Unsheathing his steel blade, Yanghwi sprang directly toward Gyeokwolkwon.
“Well, at least he decided to draw his sword this time.”
“Indeed, what he pulled off earlier was somewhat shameless.”
A swordsman dismantling a fist specialist without even unsheathing his weapon—after bearing witness to such a display, the crowd would undoubtedly brand the defeated young leader with some humiliating moniker for the rest of his days.
CLANG!
Gyeokwolkwon knocked Yanghwi’s steel aside with his bare palm. Despite the direct impact between living flesh and forged metal, not a single blemish appeared on Gyeokwolkwon’s skin.
“They claim that a blade holds natural superiority over an unarmed fist, but once you step into the apex realm, the rules of combat bend. Your steel cannot bite my flesh.”
Gyeokwolkwon’s fists crackled with surging fist energy. It was the physical manifestation of dense, compressed qi—both an absolute weapon of destruction and an impenetrable barrier against any attack.
“Did you not declare you would grant the opening exchange to our young leader because you were the senior offering instruction?”
Gyeokwolkwon brought his foot down with crushing force. The bluestone pavers of the arena shattered beneath his tread, both legs embedding themselves into the stone up to his ankles.
“Ten forms. For the duration of ten forms, I shall not shift an inch from this ground.”
In a duel between a senior and a junior, conceding forms normally meant holding back from attacking; parrying and dodging were completely acceptable. Gyeokwolkwon, however, went even further by promising not to take a single step away. The origin of such towering confidence was unmistakable.
“[Protective Qi (護身之氣)].”
A visible tide of dense energy erupted, encasing Gyeokwolkwon’s entire figure. He had wrapped himself from head to foot in protective qi—a resilient armor that no ordinary blade could hope to breach.
“Bring your best. Your ten forms commence now.”
Tang Gun let out a faint sigh of dismay.
“To shroud his entire frame in protective qi… Gyeokwolkwon’s internal reserves are terrifying.”
“Doesn’t that make Big Brother’s chances look practically hopeless?”
“Conceding ten forms amounts to nothing. He won’t be able to land even a scratch.”
The gulf separating those who had entered the apex realm from those left behind was vast and unyielding.
“Hm. Yet considering the odds, Big Brother’s smile looks far too calm.”
“Oh? Then he must have a trick up his sleeve.”
With a wide, easy grin, Yanghwi opened his mouth.
“Elder Gyeokwolkwon, do you recall that ancient piece of martial wisdom? Never drop your guard around the elderly, women, or children.”
The sword in Yanghwi’s hand began to hum softly. Within breaths, the subtle quiver intensified into a violent, rhythmic oscillation.
“You dismissed me as a mere child, yet you abandon your caution like this? Granting ten whole forms without so much as stepping aside?”
He leveled the tip of his weapon straight toward Gyeokwolkwon’s chest. Gliding forward smoothly, the steel point pressed against Gyeokwolkwon’s protective qi. As though striking an unyielding wall of solid iron, the sword was brought to a dead stop.
And yet…
VUUUUUUM! VUUUUUUM!
A piercing drone resonated from the metal. Oscillating at blinding speed, it generated an eerie acoustic hum.
Vibration.
Followed by resonance.
Initially, only the steel itself hummed, but an instant later, that precise frequency spread straight across Gyeokwolkwon’s barrier of protective qi. Matching the pulse of Yanghwi’s blade, the elder’s very own aura began to shake violently.
“Ghk!”
Taken completely unawares, Gyeokwolkwon let out a strangled gasp.
“What manner of foul sorcery is this?!”
“Sorcery? What an offensive thing to call the art of an upright orthodox cultivator!”
“Wh-What did you utter, you insolent whelp?!”
“Tsk, careful now, do not move. That was merely form number one.”
“You impudent dog!”
Pulling his arm back, Yanghwi drove his blade forward with tremendous strength. The moment the tip struck the wall of protective qi, another seismic vibration erupted, sending violent ripples cascading through the defensive layer.
“That marks the second form. Elder Gyeokwolkwon, let this be a lesson: complacency always courts disaster.”
Gyeokwolkwon’s mind was in turmoil. How could a simple oscillation of a sword punch straight through pure protective qi to strike directly at his insides? It was an unnatural phenomenon—a baffling display that mocked every conventional rule of combat.
“What vile trickery are you employing?!”
Yanghwi offered an airy explanation.
“It is the Internal Power Sound Transmission method, channeled through the principles of acoustic resonance.”
[Internal Power Sound Transmission (內家重手法)]—a specialized martial discipline designed to bypass external defense to strike internal organs directly. Known also as penetrating sound transmission, its essence lay in infiltrating the core to shatter it from within.
“Haha. Just as expected, Brother Hwi had a scheme all along.”
“When on earth did he master such a bizarre craft? The man is truly something else.”
Eight full exchanges still remained. So long as Gyeokwolkwon refused to swallow his pride and break his oath, victory was practically sitting in Yanghwi’s lap.
“If this keeps up, will a first-rate master actually topple an apex realm elder?”
“The Jeongwol Sect’s reputation will be dragged through the dirt.”
“And on the flip side, Brother Hwi’s prestige will pierce the very heavens.”
A junior martial artist from the first-rate realm bringing down an apex realm master serving as a sect elder?
“The storytellers won’t let this die down. The martial world is going to buzz over this for months.”
“They’ll likely bestow an awe-inspiring moniker upon him too. Something like the Wall-Breaker, perhaps?”
Wall-Breaker: one who could not scale the great wall, so he smashed right through it instead. It was a title tailored for Yanghwi, who was on the verge of crushing an apex realm powerhouse while lingering in the first-rate realm. Granted, the name sounded a bit clumsy, so the public would probably refine it into something grander.
While Chudal and Tang Gun traded amused remarks, Yanghwi maintained his methodical count.
“Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”
After lightly tapping Gyeokwolkwon’s shoulder eight times with the flat of his blade, Yanghwi gracefully leaped backward.
“And with that, the ten forms are concluded, Elder Gyeokwolkwon.”
Still rooted into the stone, Gyeokwolkwon stared at Yanghwi with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“Have you completely lost your senses?”
“Not at all. My mind is entirely clear.”
“You just threw away your single path to victory!”
It was undeniably true. The bizarre method Yanghwi had employed succeeded solely because Gyeokwolkwon had remained entirely stationary. The instant the promised ten conceded forms expired, the battlefield dynamics would reverse entirely. Gyeokwolkwon would fight with absolute vigilance, and toppling an apex realm master who stood on full guard was an unthinkable task for a first-rate martial artist.
Even so…
“Well, I simply couldn’t bear hearing whispers that I only triumphed because an elder took pity on me.”
I am utterly sick of being mocked as the Sword Dwarf. This time, I am securing a truly majestic title no matter what it takes.
Yanghwi flashed a confident smirk.
“Whenever you are ready, Elder Gyeokwolkwon.”
“You arrogant little bastard!”
Shifting into the intricate, elusive strides of the Moon Trace Fist Technique, Gyeokwolkwon hurled himself straight toward Yanghwi.
[Moon Trace Fist Technique, Moonlight Eighteen Chaotic Strikes (月下十八亂券)]!
Like beams of moonlight descending from the zenith to blanket the mortal earth below, an overwhelming barrage of chaotic fist images flooded the surroundings. True to the terrifying reputation of an apex realm combatant, it was a ferocious, blinding onslaught devoid of a single flaw.
And yet…
I can see every single stroke.
Yanghwi unleashed the Vessel Thousand Steps.
Accelerating with impossible grace, weaving effortlessly through mirages and residual afterimages.
“Absurd!”
“How in heaven’s name?!”
Not only the stunned spectators, but even Chudal and Tang Gun cried out in genuine disbelief.
Across all eighteen thunderous strikes, not a single fist had so much as brushed the edge of Yanghwi’s robes.
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