Chapter 82
Chapter 82: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
For a prodigy capable of discerning a hundred truths from a single lesson, no venture was worth undertaking unless it yielded compound gains.
From the moment Jeong Myeonggun had instigated a quarrel the previous day, Yanghwi had meticulously calculated every potential benefit he could extract from the incident.
His first objective was straightforward: publicly humiliate the Jeongwol Sect, an organization fiercely vying with his own family to rule Muju.
His second was to stage a display of such astonishing skill that it would permanently strip away the grating sobriquet of Sword Dwarf.
To claim that second prize, however, demanded nothing less than triumphing over an elder of the Jeongwol Sect—a martial artist who had reached the apex realm.
Under standard circumstances, accomplishing such a feat while lingering merely within the first-rate realm would be sheer fantasy.
That is, of course, had he not carried the accumulated memories of a former life.
Vessel Thousand Steps, Swift Exchange.
Channeling the core concepts of absolute velocity, rapid transitions, and phantom-like misdirection through his footwork, he executed the Vessel Thousand Steps.
Yanghwi’s silhouette slipped effortlessly between the gaps of the eighteen illusory fists blanketing the firmament.
‘Every angle is entirely transparent to me.’
During his previous existence, the Jeongwol Sect had clashed in a catastrophic war of extermination against the rulers of Nanchang, the White Robes Sect.
At the time, Yanghwi had operated as an itinerant sellsword for the White Robes Sect, engaging in brutal, life-or-death skirmishes against the highest echelons of the Jeongwol Sect.
Throughout that conflict, he had exchanged strikes with Gyeokwolkwon well over a dozen times.
‘I still recall every word of the mnemonic chant for the Moon Trace Fist Technique. Regardless of the gap in our current cultivation tiers, I will not lose to this.’
That historic war had ultimately concluded with the total eradication of the Jeongwol Sect at the hands of the White Robes Sect.
Desperately endeavoring to forge an independent martial legacy for his own kin back then, Yanghwi had demanded the Moon Trace Fist Technique as the remuneration for his blood-soaked service.
In truth, the Moon Trace Fist Technique was an art Yanghwi had long since dismantled down to its constituent principles, digested, thoroughly mastered, and devised comprehensive countermeasures against.
‘Moon Trace Fist Technique, Moonlight Eighteen Chaotic Strikes.’
It represented the pinnacle offensive sequence of their tradition, built upon the tenets of the Three-Six Harmonies and interspersed with deceptive shifts meant to fracture an adversary’s perception.
The method to neutralize it relied on penetrating the momentary void created when stepping across the counter-trajectories of the Six Harmonies.
Even so, evading every trace of the offensive remained unfeasible.
When all was said and done, his opponent possessed apex realm power, while he had merely attained the first-rate realm.
‘If dodging cleanly is out of reach, absorbing the remnants with a solid defense will suffice.’
Hundred and Eight Heaven-Splitting Swords, First Form.
Arrow Feathers Pierce Rock.
Whoooosh!
Among the foundational forms of the blade, a piercing thrust gathered and discharged the absolute maximum concentration of kinetic power.
Arrow Feathers Pierce Rock—a thrust bearing the unrelenting force of a flight feather driving through solid granite—intercepted and turned aside Gyeokwolkwon’s strike.
The tip of Yanghwi’s blade fractured from its collision with a blow wrapped in heavy fist energy, but such superficial damage was of little consequence.
His adversary had absorbed a comparable shock.
“Ugh…!”
This variation of Arrow Feathers Pierce Rock had been infused with the harmonic frequencies of Bee Wing Resonating Vibration.
Gyeokwolkwon snapped his wrist to dissipate the lingering tremor.
Yet the intrusive sound-transmission force had already drilled deep into his meridians.
“You… by what means did you slip past the Moonlight Eighteen Chaotic Strikes?”
Though Gyeokwolkwon had burned with indignation just seconds prior, the clarity of shock quickly shattered his temper.
‘Calling it an evasion is generous; he completely took the technique apart.’
Witnessing the fundamental form of one’s clan dismantled in broad daylight was a catastrophic omen.
To claim the continued existence of their sect stood on the line was by no means an overstatement.
“Speak plainly. How did you anticipate and avoid the sequence?”
“I simply spotted the opening and stepped aside!”
“Insolent brat! I demand the truth!”
“I have already spoken candidly; pressing me further for truth only causes me distress.”
Gyeokwolkwon clenched his jaw until his teeth grated.
“Are you asking me to believe you possess the miraculous intellect to decipher our counter-strategy after a single engagement?”
“Precisely!”
“……”
“If you remain unconvinced, pray, step forward and test me again.”
“Very well, I shall take you up on that!”
Gyeokwolkwon immediately transitioned back into the intricate motions of the Moon Trace Fist Technique.
The execution carried a ferocious, thunderous swiftness that bordered on volcanic.
At the exact same time, it shimmered with an ornate, baffling complexity that bewildered the naked eye.
Yet Yanghwi casually threaded his way out of harm’s reach, executing a prompt riposte.
“Guh…!”
Struck once again by the penetrating resonance, Gyeokwolkwon gripped his aching wrist tightly.
His gaze hollowed out in sheer, stunned disbelief as words escaped him in an incredulous murmur.
“Just how… in the heavens…?”
“Merely through having clear vision to observe and an agile intellect to comprehend.”
“Preposterous… this defies all logic!”
It was an unreserved assault delivered by an apex realm expert.
The notion that an ordinary first-rate realm cultivator could neutralize it with such casual grace was nothing short of maddening.
“One requires sharp perception, deep understanding, and an extraordinary lightfoot art capable of carrying out the intent.”
Vessel Thousand Steps derived directly from One Step One Thousand of the Sacred Sound Jade Spirit Gate, an ancient tradition revered as unmatched across the realm in movement arts.
With all due respect to the lineage of the Jeongwol Sect, Yanghwi possessed a vast, unassailable superiority in foundational martial heritage.
A fleeting contemplation gave Yanghwi pause.
He weighed two divergent courses of action before him.
While it was undeniably true that the Jeongwol Sect remained a competing faction against his own house…
‘Ought I force them into bitter enmity, or leave an avenue open for eventual conciliation?’
After all, cultivating enduring vendettas without cause was foolish.
Cornering a foe too aggressively often invited unforeseen repercussions.
“Moon Trace. A decisive fist driving forward in pursuit of a fading lunar shadow. It is undeniably an exquisite martial art. Senior Gyeokwolkwon, would you indulge this junior as I execute a single demonstration for your review?”
Without pausing to await formal consent, Yanghwi immediately set his body into motion.
Clang, clatter! Clang!
His limbs flowed to an intrinsic cadence.
Every sweep of his steel strictly adhered to grand martial theory.
It unfolded as a sword dance underpinned by impeccable logic and refined truth.
And yet…
The internal intent resonating through the performance was entirely alien to the Baek lineage.
Gyeokwolkwon whispered beneath his breath, utterly spellbound.
“The trace of the moon…”
Every school of martial arts began as an attempt to replicate nature.
Just as the Azure Sky Sword of the Namgung clan sought to emulate the vastness of the firmament.
Just as the Five Tigers Gate-Guarding Saber of the Paeng clan mirrored the ferocity of predators prowling their territory.
The defining crown jewel of the Jeongwol Sect, the Moon Trace Fist Technique, sat squarely within the classification of an apex-tier art.
Luminous moonlight inevitably waned.
Diffused radiance disoriented the watcher’s vision.
Operating on these truths, the Moon Trace Fist Technique was a doctrine centered upon phantom manifestations—an embodiment of ceaseless transformation.
‘In my former life, unraveling the core concepts of the phantom arts was possible entirely through my study of the Moon Trace Fist Technique.’
Now, he wove the elusive transformations of moonlight directly into his blade forms.
Through pure sword intent, he laid bare the totality of his comprehension regarding the Moon Trace Fist Technique.
He ensured that the presiding elders of the Jeongwol Sect who stood watching would clearly recognize the fundamental blind spots plaguing their legacy.
‘Will patching up a competitor’s flaws turn out to be a misstep on my part? Or…’
The Jeongwol Sect was a rival faction contending with the Baek family over the dominion of Muju.
And yet, Muju formed merely one among the eleven administrative territories of Jiangxi.
Further out reigned the White Robes Sect, undisputed masters of Jiangxi’s capital city, Nanchang.
Then there was the Black Mirror Gang, ruling over Yuanzhou and extending its insidious, shadowy reach deep toward Jizhou.
The Baek family was ringed by an overwhelming sea of adversaries.
‘Therefore… let us attempt to fell three birds with a pair of stones.’
Should the endeavor collapse, so be it.
“That concludes the display.”
Bringing the sword dance to a close, Yanghwi lowered his blade and offered a composed, cupped-fist salute.
“This junior took the liberty of presenting an unpolished demonstration before his venerable seniors. How did it appear to your eyes?”
“……”
“……”
Gyeokwolkwon gave no response.
Neither the sect leader of the Jeongwol Sect nor the two accompanying elders stationed behind him broke their silence.
Having recognized the profound martial depths woven into Yanghwi’s forms…
Words completely failed them.
A youth belonging to an entirely separate clan had just demonstrated a grasp of martial philosophy far grander than anyone within their own sect had ever conceived, translating it seamlessly into a sword form.
More astonishing still, he had visibly traced the path forward for the future of the Moon Trace Fist Technique.
Before assuming their titles as leaders and council elders, they remained dedicated martial artists.
And the core calling of any practitioner was the ceaseless pursuit of higher cultivation heights.
Faced with such insight, the senior hierarchy of the Jeongwol Sect felt a singular, overwhelming realization dawn upon them.
“Young Master Baek.”
Gyeokwolkwon discarded his dismissive address of ‘brat’ in favor of ‘Young Master Baek.’
“Your innate genius is… entirely beyond dispute. To think that a transcendent talent appearing once across an era truly walked among us.”
“Senior praises me far past my humble worth.”
Gyeokwolkwon cast a dazed look across their surroundings.
Disciples of the Jeongwol Sect, Yanghwi’s entourage, and a vast gathering of spectators choked the perimeter.
‘Far too many eyes bear witness to this ground.’
A sudden urge fluttered through his mind. The vast majority of the audience would scarcely comprehend the profound revelation embedded within that sword display.
He could simply act as though nothing of significance had occurred and dismiss the event out of hand.
Yet his pride as an authentic martial artist refused to allow such petty deceit.
“I have only a single inquiry, Young Master Baek. Having clashed with your strikes firsthand, your inner cultivation firmly occupies the first-rate realm without question. By what means were you able to perceive everything so thoroughly?”
Yanghwi offered an easy smile as he answered.
“Cultivation boundaries and martial enlightenment do not invariably advance in tandem. I remain stationed in the first-rate realm simply because time has yet to afford me greater cultivation, yet my vision has consistently aimed toward the highest peaks.”
“…Understood.”
Gyeokwolkwon straightened his posture and executed a cupped-fist salute with the deepest measure of reverence.
“I, Elder Gyeokwolkwon of the Jeongwol Sect, shall eternally preserve the guidance granted today by Young Hero Baek Yanghwi, firstborn scion of the Baek Estate!”
A rustle of confusion swiftly broke out among the gathered crowd.
“What is the meaning of all this?”
“They were trading deadly strikes a moment ago, then one performed a sword dance, and now the elder claims he was gifted guidance?”
“Since when have martial masters ever done anything that made sense to normal folk?”
“You have a point there.”
Before the murmurs could settle, Gyeokwolkwon projected his voice once more across the square.
“I stepped into the arena aiming to deliver instruction, yet I am the one who walked away enlightened. Accordingly, this contest concludes in my, Gyeokwolkwon’s, total surrender. Young Master Baek! I render my profoundest admiration to the vast horizons of martial comprehension you have reached!”
Only upon hearing those words did a surge of wild exhilaration sweep through the ranks of the spectators.
“Surrender? Did Senior Gyeokwolkwon honestly concede defeat?”
“Incredible! Does that mean the young master, the Sword Dwarf, has truly prevailed?!”
“A fledgling cultivator from the newest generation just triumphed over a sect elder and apex realm master?!”
“WOOOOOOOW!”
“Sword Dwarf! Sword Dwarf! Sword Dwarf! Sword Dwarf!”
“Hold your tongues, you brainless fools! Look closely at the young master’s stature! What part of his frame resembles a dwarf?!”
“Come to think of it, you’re entirely right!”
Few pursuits entertained idle busybodies more than affixing grandiose titles to rising martial stars.
Those among the crowd harboring literary pretensions immediately began concocting new epithets for Yanghwi, shouting them aloud over the din.
“That display of swordsmanship was an absolute masterpiece to behold! How does ‘Beautiful Sword’ sound?!”
Yanghwi’s ears twitched at the suggestion.
Beautiful Sword. It had a remarkably agreeable ring to it.
“Pah! Beautiful Sword fails entirely to represent the magnitude of what unfolded today! Moving forward, I declare Young Master Baek should be heralded as the Greatest Sword of the Rising Generation!”
At a mere fifteen years of age, he had brought down a sect elder situated two generations above him.
Hailing him as the preeminent blade among the younger cohort was thoroughly earned.
‘Greatest Sword of the Rising Generation, is it? Heh-heh. I have always held a distinct affinity for appellations featuring Greatest Sword.’
“Ridiculous! Have none of you caught wind of the peerless prodigy said to have emerged from Shaolin far north in Henan?! Bestowing the mantle of greatest among the youth is premature when he has contested so few masters!”
“That is fair. He has yet to trade blows with the true heirs of the great sects. Greatest Sword of the Rising Generation carries too much weight too soon.”
Yanghwi felt his brows furrow in irritation.
These insolent scoundrels, seriously?
“Even so, Young Master Baek today showcased brilliance akin to an awl piercing through a sack! What think you of naming him this: Greatest Sword Among Wanderers!”
Not the sovereign blade among roaming swordsmen, but the sharpest point inside a pocket?
Is that wretch actively mocking me?
Just as Yanghwi was committing the speaker’s features to memory for future retribution…
“The Baek Estate was once nothing more than an obscure family clan, yet since welcoming Young Master Baek into their fold, they have surged toward their present glory. Therefore, noble brothers of the martial world! What say we honor Young Master Baek with the title of Ascending Dragon Sword from this hour forth?!”
A cascade of enthusiastic approval instantly swept through the onlookers.
“Ascending Dragon Sword! It fits him like a glove!”
“Soaring from the humble earth straight into the heavens, hence ‘Ascending Sky’!”
“And carrying an undeniable majesty resembling a dragon itself, hence ‘Sword Dragon’!”
“Ascending Dragon Sword!”
“Ascending Dragon Sword!”
“Ascending Dragon Sword!”
The foremost criterion of an exceptional moniker was an undeniable sense of prestige.
In that regard…
‘Ascending Dragon Sword. Truth be told, doesn’t that carry far more grandeur than Greatest Sword of the Rising Generation?’
Gyeokwolkwon turned back to face Yanghwi, bowing once again with unfeigned sincerity.
“It was an honor to cross paths in this contest, Ascending Dragon Sword.”
The very adversary who had fought him had ratified the declaration of the multitude.
In that singular moment, Yanghwi’s public identity underwent a transformation, shedding the moniker of Sword Dwarf—a mere runt wielding a weapon—to become the Ascending Dragon Sword, a divine drake soaring into the endless sky.
“The pleasure was entirely mine, senior.”
Having returned the customary courtesies, Yanghwi stepped away from the sparring platform.
His comrades, among them Chudal and Tang Gun, hurried forward to receive him.
“Ahem, Little Brother. Allow me to offer my congratulations on your grand victory.”
“Brother Hwi’s talent is terrifyingly profound. To think you would command such an outcome.”
Just as Yanghwi offered a faint smirk, preparing to utter a modest rejoinder…
Chudal bent his waist in a display of uncharacteristically solemn humility.
“A glorious triumph, Boss!”
What sort of game is this fool playing?
Ah.
“Right, Chudal.”
“At your command, Eldest Brother!”
“You were vocally backing Senior Gyeokwolkwon just a short while ago, were you not?”
“…Pardon?”
“My hearing is quite sharp. What was the phrase? Hoping to see my nose planted firmly into the dirt?”
Catching the murderous intensity in Yanghwi’s gaze, Chudal’s expression instantly dissolved into an agonizing wail.
“Get over here right this instant, you miserable wretch!”
“Aaargh! Have mercy, I beg of you!”
Only after seizing Chudal by the scruff and giving him a thorough, blistering earful…
Yanghwi turned his attention back toward the senior leadership of the Jeongwol Sect.
‘If I intend to secure that third bird, I had best bring this matter to a proper conclusion.’
“There remain a few particulars I wish to discuss with the esteemed seniors of the Jeongwol Sect.”
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