WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 113: When Young, I Knew Not Sorrow's Taste (18)
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This was Yuezhou.
The largest and most prosperous city in Hunan.
A Jianghu martial artist shouted in disgust.
“A Yuezhou martial arts tournament? Why would I enter some damn nonsense like that?”
He rolled up his sleeves. Beneath his bulging arm muscles were huge fists callused like rocks and sturdy palms, heavy and imposing as axes.
“I’ve practiced this Iron Sand Palm for ten years. I didn’t rest a single day. I trained by plunging the edges of my hands and my fists into burning iron sand. Do you think I endured all that pain just to become a spectacle for others and help them pass the time?”
His voice grew more heated by the moment.
“Why care about the babbling of people who don’t know the first thing about it? Getting worked up over that and entering a tournament like this is even more ridiculous! It just means you’re shallow enough to be swayed by a few words!”
Spittle flew from his mouth.
“It’d be different if the prize were something great. But from what I’ve heard, they’re only handing out a few gold ingots. You’re going to dance around in front of ignorant fools for that? Does that make any sense? Have you got no pride?”
Bang!
He slammed a fist onto the table and roared. The table collapsed into pieces as if struck by an axe.
“That damned tournament ought to fail! There’s a limit to how lightly they can treat martial artists! Thanks to it, all sorts of mangy dog bastards are flapping their mouths without restraint!”
“Hey, Brother Kang. Calm down.”
“Have a drink first. Here, take this.”
The people around him began offering him liquor, patting his back, and grabbing his arms to calm him down.
Breathing heavily, he sat back down.
For a moment, things settled.
Then a group of people passed by outside the inn, chatting loudly.
Their voices cut clearly through the sudden lull.
“No one who studies fist-and-kick arts will enter this tournament. You know, arts like Iron Sand Palm, Dragon-Tiger Fist, Flying Dragon Kick, and the rest.”
Iron Sand Palm?
Everyone’s ears perked up.
“Hmm? Why? Is there a reason you think so?”
“Because they’re obviously going to lose.”
“Lose?”
“Yeah. Everyone else will bring swords, sabers, spears, axes, and so on. What can someone do with bare hands against that?”
“Come on. They say masters of fist-and-kick arts can shatter iron plates and knock swords away.”
“Does that even make sense?”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Think about it. If someone without a blade could beat someone with a blade, why would blades even exist?”
“Uh...”
“Exactly. Weapon users aren’t idiots. Fist-and-kick arts can’t beat weapons. That’s why they won’t enter a tournament where they’re bound to embarrass themselves.”
The voices gradually faded into the distance.
Silence returned.
Liquor rippled in the cups.
“Ngh... Ngh...!”
Kang In-su, a late first-rate master of Iron Sand Palm, turned bright red.
* * *
‘Hah. This is driving me insane.’
Jin Geol passed the front of the inn with cold sweat running down his back.
A martial artist’s furious roar rang out from the inn he had just passed.
“What! What was that about fist-and-kick arts being no match for weapons?!”
“Oh, please restrain yourself, Brother Kang.”
“I’ll tear them apart this instant!”
“Brother Kang, Brother Kang. Sit down first!”
“Plenty of people are saying things like that these days. You need to hold back, Brother Kang. Martial artists have been beating people up so often lately that the authorities are glaring at everyone...”
Jin Geol tugged his bamboo hat lower over his face and lightly tapped his companion’s shoulder.
“Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Ah, you’re taking that road? All right. See you around.”
Jin Geol quickly stepped away and turned into an alley, pulling his bamboo hat down even farther. When he emerged, several people were gathered beneath the shade of a long eave, puffing on short pipes and chatting.
Most were familiar faces.
Jin Geol had visited every inn in Yuezhou and drunk heavily while digging into the truth behind the chili pork story.
They were ordinary people who had become friendly with him over a few drinks, never realizing he was a martial artist.
Jin Geol suddenly slipped into their group.
“Hm? Who’s this?”
“It’s me. Jin.”
“Ah, Mister Jin. But why are you wearing a bamboo hat when it isn’t raining...?”
“...The sun’s a little bright. Anyway, forget that. Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Not a single martial official has entered this tournament.”
“Isn’t that only natural? They’re busy people.”
“No. They’re staying out because they’re afraid of being humiliated.”
“Pah! What nonsense. Do you think the civil service examination is a joke? Haven’t you seen even those arrogant Jianghu martial artists keep themselves in check before martial officials?”
“They aren’t afraid of a martial official’s strength. They’re afraid of an army gathered in one place. Still, I’ll admit it. The civil service examination is difficult. When they first passed it, martial officials must’ve been strong.”
“Are you saying they’re different afterward?”
His lowered voice struck the alley walls and echoed softly.
Jin Geol leaned in and lowered his voice further.
“They are. Think about it. The Jianghu is the wild. You can’t establish yourself unless you build your reputation, fight life-or-death duels, and survive. You have to prove yourself at every moment. But what about martial officials? Their salary arrives like clockwork, and they get promoted with seniority. Sometimes connections matter more than martial skill.”
“Uh...”
“Even martial officials who started out strong only get fatter with time, while their combat instincts grow dull. They’re all bluster and authority, but in truth, they’re paper tigers.”
“Is that... so?”
And so, a wild rumor that would make martial officials across Yuezhou, no, all of Hunan clutch the backs of their necks was born.
From Jin Geol’s mouth.
From the retainers of Namgung Ujin and Hwangbo Hwi.
On these streets, beneath those eaves, beside those wells.
The rumor spread.
A wild rumor that made martial artists’ blood boil!
More and more martial artists, enraged by it, hung their name plaques at the tournament grounds.
“Hm? You’re entering too, Brother?”
“I have to. Everyone else is going. What will people say if I’m the only one left out?”
“I thought you said you weren’t entering the tournament.”
“I heard Yi Jinuk of the Ho River Sect is entering. This is our chance to show who’s stronger!”
“...This is something else. A lot of impressive people are entering. If I win just a few bouts here, won’t I make a name for myself?”
When people gathered, that alone became its own reward.
Seeing the martial artists pouring in, even more martial artists carved their name plaques and hung them at the tournament grounds.
Their numbers swelled in an instant.
Masters from all across Hunan heard the rumors and gradually arrived. The number quickly passed two hundred, then three hundred.
Along with it, one name spread across Hunan.
“I heard the leader of the White-Robed League, Yeon Sowol, is hosting this tournament.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s from Guangdong, apparently, and he’s barely twenty. They say he wiped out a group of wicked Daoist priests in Hengyang. In Yuezhou, he led young martial artists and eliminated bandits who had been kidnapping people. He must be no ordinary fellow.”
“A young man who’s barely twenty?”
“One young man from Guangdong is shaking all of Hunan...”
* * *
“Sowol...”
Moyong Ha’s eyes trembled.
She looked at Yeon Sowol with an expression he could not describe, bit her lip, then turned back to everyone.
“As of this morning, more than three hundred and sixty name plaques have been hung at the tournament grounds. It really worked. Sowol’s plan.”
Namgung Ujin, Hwangbo Hwi, Jin Geol, Won Huiseung, So Hye, and Ha Jeop all looked at Yeon Sowol.
With aghast eyes.
With eyes full of awe.
With excitement and concern.
‘What a mess. What a mess.’
Under those complicated gazes, Yeon Sowol gave a bitter smile.
‘This is embarrassing.’
He did not even know where to look.
Fortunately, Moyong Ha changed the subject again.
“Anyway, this is better than we expected. I never thought we’d stir up the entire province this much before the tournament had even begun.”
Her eyes sparkled.
“That means we can sell the operating rights.”
Everyone tilted their heads. Operating rights?
Only Jin Geol understood what she meant, and he smiled bitterly.
“You’re planning to bring merchant guilds into this, aren’t you, Miss?”
Moyong Ha smiled brightly.
“Yes! Where people gather, money follows. By now, Yuezhou’s merchant guilds must be fidgeting in their seats, desperate to seize this opportunity. But we can’t let the merchant guilds take all the profit when we’re the ones doing the hard work.”
Rustle!
Moyong Ha spread out a sheet of paper and took out a brush. The sharp scent of ink filled the air.
[Match-Betting Operating Rights]
[Nearby Stall Operating Rights]
[Merchandise and Various Promotional Rights]
[Souvenir Production and Sales Rights]
After writing the words in a swift hand, Moyong Ha spoke with a satisfied smile.
“We’ll divide the rights like this and sell them. Then we’ll receive gold ingots and prizes in return.”
Prizes.
At that one word, everyone’s attention focused on her.
Moyong Ha looked delighted at the attention.
“What was our first concern from the start? That we did not have suitable prizes to make this a serious tournament. But with this plan, we can overcome even that weakness! The leading merchant guilds active in Yuezhou will offer the finest martial arts manuals, secret manuals, and spiritual elixirs themselves! Then this already heated tournament will become even fiercer. Everything is going according to plan!”
Everyone’s eyes widened.
Martial arts manuals!
Secret manuals!
Spiritual elixirs!
Moyong Ha lowered her voice meaningfully.
“The best part is the martial arts manuals and secret manuals. We have to give away spiritual elixirs as prizes, but even if the manuals are put up as prizes, we can read through them first.”
“Oh.”
“Ah...”
What martial artist would not want martial arts manuals and secret manuals?
At the prospect of being able to read them, everyone’s cheeks flushed slightly.
Yeon Sowol was deeply impressed as well.
‘Maybe it’s because she’s a direct descendant of a prestigious family. She has a remarkably sharp head for practical matters.’
That made him think of Yi Yubaek again.
‘We were the same.’
After subjugating Heavenly Road Mountain, they had discussed how to claim compensation for all their hardship. That was how the Guangdong Martial Alliance had been born.
Yeon Sowol was once again reminded of the saying that martial artists needed to be skilled at conducting themselves.
At that moment, Hwangbo Hwi’s clear, ringing voice cut through the unsettled atmosphere.
“Still, there is something that concerns me.”
He stood, snapped open his fan, and approached Moyong Ha. He smiled broadly, showing white teeth as his broad shoulder drew close enough to nearly brush hers.
“I worry that all of this relies on people’s negative excitement. Excitement always cools once it has passed its peak. When the bouts actually begin, the enthusiasm may not be as great as it is now.”
Hwangbo Hwi lowered his brows slightly.
“Also, it is a problem if people divide into sides, fight, and deepen their conflicts. If this atmosphere continues, some will surely grow disillusioned. In the worst case, people may point fingers at us. Then public opinion of the tournament will quickly worsen. Couldn’t everything fall apart in an instant?”
Yeon Sowol was a little surprised.
‘I thought he was just some woman-crazed wastrel...’
As expected, a scion of a prestigious family showed his pedigree.
Though the Hwangbo Family was not counted among the Five Great Families, it was still often mentioned immediately afterward. Hwangbo Hwi truly showed the bearing of a direct descendant of that family.
Pleased, Yeon Sowol spoke.
He had been considering the same concern for a long time.
“Conflict comes from prejudice and resentment.”
Yeon Sowol’s voice suddenly cut in, drawing everyone’s attention to him.
“So if we remove prejudice by showing them the truth, and prevent resentment by making the process fair, what Brother Hwangbo worries about will not happen. Therefore, we must manage conflict appropriately while keeping the excitement from cooling...”
Yeon Sowol picked up the brush Moyong Ha had set down and stood before the paper.
Holding its tip above the blank sheet, he said,
“I have a method in mind for that.”
One character at a time, he wrote down his idea.
“Huh...”
“Ha.”
Everyone who saw it gasped.
“I thought I was pretty good at making plans myself, but you...”
Jin Geol’s eyes trembled as if he stood before a towering cliff.
Yeon Sowol set down the brush.
‘Keeping people’s excitement and attention while making them accept the results?’
In his opinion, that was a very twenty-first-century thing.
* * *
The day of the tournament arrived.
Martial artists gathered around the tournament grounds.
Some were furious.
Some were coldly subdued.
Others were excited.
The tournament grounds had been prepared in a basin-shaped hollow outside Yuezhou.
At the lowest point, stones had been stacked into a low, flat platform. Areas for the participating martial artists to wait had been arranged around it, while people could sit along the slopes above and watch.
At the very top, a high platform circled the area, with large braziers set in place to light the grounds as brightly as day even at night.
Wooden name plaques bearing the participants’ names hung in rows from ropes stretched before the grounds.
The evening glow, slowly fading away, fell over the names on the plaques as the wind made the ropes creak and sway.
“Why are they starting when it’s practically night?”
“Seriously. It’s atmospheric, but will we even be able to see anything once it gets dark?”
“Still, it is nice that people can come after finishing work.”
“That’s true. Look at this. Isn’t everyone in Yuezhou here?”
People chatted quietly here and there, but there were so many that their voices mixed together like great waves.
The mood steadily rose.
Swallowing could be heard from all around.
Tap-
Just before the tension could boil over, a man descended lightly onto the tournament platform.
The hem of his white robe rippled in the red sunset.
His hair, tied high, fluttered in the wind.
At the sight of that otherworldly figure, the crowd’s murmur died down, and a low voice, carried by true qi, reached everyone’s ears.
“Welcome, everyone. I am Yeon Sowol of the Guangdong Martial Alliance. Today’s tournament is for those unfortunate people who suffered humiliation at the hands of the bandit known as Elder Jeon. I offer my thanks to every one of you for participating in this great cause.”
Though things had become quite twisted, that was certainly the original purpose. It was a tournament meant to help the unfortunate.
Realizing that anew, people nodded.
It was a respectable cause they could take pride in.
“The total number of martial artists participating in this tournament is 389.”
Yeon Sowol looked toward the ropes hung around the tournament grounds.
The densely packed wooden name plaques rattled as the wind shook them at that moment.
“But.”
Yeon Sowol’s voice became firm.
“There are too many. Therefore, I intend to first select 108 truly skilled martial artists among them.”
The crowd began murmuring again.
“One hundred and eight?”
“There are too many right now.”
“But how will they select one hundred and eight?”
Yeon Sowol spoke to the puzzled crowd as if calmly stating a fact.
“The method is simple. Anyone may step onto the platform first and accept challenges. We will select seventy-two people, starting with those who have the highest number of victories. If someone steps onto the platform and no one challenges them, they will receive priority for inclusion among the seventy-two, regardless of their number of victories.”
The martial artists nodded.
“Interesting.”
“This is the first tournament like this I’ve seen.”
“We’ll need to plan carefully. When to enter, how many times to win before stepping down.”
Then one martial artist frowned and voiced a question.
“But why seventy-two? You just said one hundred and eight.”
“Oh. You’re right.”
Murmur, murmur.
The confusion grew. The martial artists looked toward Yeon Sowol.
Just before someone could raise their voice to ask, Yeon Sowol spoke first.
“Not every martial artist is the same. How could masters who have already reached towering realms, proven themselves countless times, and made their names known far and wide be treated the same?”
Yeon Sowol raised his voice.
“Therefore! Of the 108, we have already selected thirty-six. We would not dare test those seniors in a place like this.”
The martial artists’ brows furrowed.
“What?”
“They were set aside separately?”
“What does that...”
Flutter!
At that moment, Yeon Sowol extended his arm and gave a signal.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Fwoooosh!
The tournament grounds, which had been growing dark as the sunset faded, suddenly lit up.
“Huh?”
“What?”
Fwoooooooooosh!
High platforms had been erected around the basin.
From the enormous bronze braziers above them, flames rose all at once.
Pillars of fire burned fiercely enough to dye the sky red.
In front of each stood one person.
Their wavering shadows stretched far down into the basin.
Those who squinted up at them and recognized their identities shouted.
“Yuezhou’s Gatekeeper! Jang Gilho, head of the Silver Hundred Guild!”
“Hunan’s foremost spear wielder, Jin Hyeogo!”
“Hunan’s foremost woman martial artist, Shin Si-ye!”
“Soul-Severing Sword, Yi Sigeuk!”
“Iron Fist Kang In-su!”
One after another, names that had earned towering renown throughout Hunan.
Yeon Sowol pointed at them and spoke.
“They are the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits among the 108 Malefic Stars who will advance to the main tournament. Excluding those seniors, we will select the remaining Seventy-Two Earthly Fiends from the other 353 participants.”
The instant those words left his mouth, the martial artists’ reactions split sharply in two.
“I really did get myself involved in something huge...”
“This really will be a chance to make a name for myself.”
“I... will be competing with those people...”
Some saw the prestige of the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits and realized anew how incredible this tournament was.
And then there were the others.
“...Kang In-su made it in, but I didn’t...?”
“Ha. I have to look up at those people?”
They boiled with anger at the realization that they had not made it into the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits.
“Waaaaaah!”
The spectators went wild at a thrilling spectacle they had never experienced before.
Their gazes swung between the tournament platform below and the bronze braziers above.
“This is insane! Waaaaaah!”
“Decide Yuezhou’s foremost martial artist! No, Hunan’s foremost martial artist!”
“Waaaaaah!”
The excitement surrounding the Yuezhou tournament had passed its peak and begun soaring into the sky.
Footnotes:
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