WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: Abstract

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Chapter 57: Martial Arts (3)

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Martial Arts (3)

Damn it.

Go Yeom-hak lay in bed, splints wrapped around his entire body. Remembering the academy doctor's diagnosis, he couldn't shake off his anger. Damage to the cervical vertebrae, damage to the spine, joints in his knees bent out of place. Full recovery to a state where he could resume training would take at least two months.

That bastard Mumu.

His teeth ground together. He told the kid to try hitting him, and who could have guessed the kid would suddenly come crashing down on top of him? What shocked him most was that he'd tried to hold his ground and it hadn't mattered at all. The force had made no sense.

That wasn't Expert-level.

The power that had crushed him, during that instant, rivaled Master-level strength. He assumed it came from some artifact and let his guard down. He trained the Iron Blood Gold Body Art to withstand any impact, but that training couldn't harden joints or a spine to that degree.

I won't forgive this.

Once his body healed, he swore he'd take revenge, separate from whatever orders came from above. He was still lost in that thought when a voice reached him.

"Did I expect too much of you?"

Go Yeom-hak flinched at the voice and tried to sit up from the bed. But the splints on his neck and waist threw him off balance, and he collapsed back down. The humiliation was complete.

"M-Master Heo, this is..."

"Enough."

Master Heo stood leaning against the shadowed wall by the window. He clicked his tongue at the sight of Go Yeom-hak. With this, all three House of the Eight Villains members who'd entered this year had been taken down by a single person. The one responsible for all of it was Mumu.

Yu Mumu.

A truly bizarre situation. Three of them, brought down by a brat who hadn't even learned proper Martial Arts. Compared to the House of the Eight Villains members who'd entered in earlier years, these three were still green, sure, but they carried a level of skill that ordinary cadets couldn't hope to match.

Our plans have hit a snag.

One of the three who'd entered this year was completely out of commission, and judging by Go Yeom-hak's condition, it would take a solid two months before he could be put back into the field. Seventeen years of preparation, and a single variable was throwing it all into disarray. Master Heo's eyes sharpened as he spoke.

"Did you confirm whether it's the power of some artifact?"

"Th... that's..."

"You couldn't even confirm that much?"

Go Yeom-hak spoke up in a hurry, unable to hide from Master Heo's obvious displeasure.

"M-Master Heo. Even setting the artifact aside, that brat could control his own muscles at will."

"Control his muscles?"

"It was only for an instant, but he compressed his muscles and then released them, doubling his strength. I'll admit I let my guard down, but if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have ended up like this..."

"I don't need excuses."

Go Yeom-hak fell silent at that. Master Heo stroked his chin, sinking into thought. Muscles were part of the body too, so naturally they could be trained and controlled to some degree. But compressing one's own muscles?

Is that even possible?

Using force to give muscles tension and spring, sure, he'd heard of that. But the idea of contracting and compressing them like that, he'd never heard of anything like it.

No. Wait, I've been thinking about this wrong.

Master Heo suddenly realized his assumption had been flawed from the start. Based on what he'd heard from Elder Hang Yeon, he'd assumed the strength only increased when the artifact was actively manipulated.

The artifact's ability might be to manipulate muscles, and it might just always be active at some baseline level.

If that assumption held, everything lined up. What they'd just witnessed was probably the artifact's power turned down as low as it would go.

So it adjusts the muscles to let the user's body properly channel its own strength.

If that guess was right, this was an extraordinary artifact. He'd seen plenty of artifacts in his time, but he'd rarely come across one that could take someone who hadn't even learned Martial Arts and make him this strong. Master Heo, who'd assumed all he needed to do was deal with the artifact itself, found his thinking shifting. Great power always came with a price. An artifact of this caliber would demand a heavy price, no doubt, but its worth was beyond comparison to any fortune, and more importantly, it seemed like it could play a decisive role in the grand plan.

I need to claim it.

To do that, it seemed the approach would have to change. Given the power this artifact had shown, this was no longer a matter that could be left to the House of the Eight Villains' descendants.

* * *

Mumu, Jin-hyeok, and Mo Il-hwa were moving between buildings to reach their next class. Changcheon Martial Academy was so massive that dozens of buildings stood within its grounds alone, packed with countless facilities. Something caught their eyes along the way. In what looked like a wide training ground, two groups of nine cadets each, one dressed in blue and the other in orange, were kicking something around. It was round, and the two sides seemed to be stealing it from each other, kicking and rolling it, in what looked like a fairly entertaining scene.

"What's that?"

At Mumu's question, Mo Il-hwa's eyes went round.

"You don't even know what that is? What kind of man doesn't... oh, right. You grew up in the mountains."

"Il-hwa, do you know what it is?"

Jin-hyeok answered instead.

"That's Cuju."

"Cuju?"

Cuju. It was a game played with a ball made from an animal bladder inflated with air, or sometimes bound with hair. There were several variations of Cuju, but the style that had grown popular in recent years involved scoring points by getting the ball through a goal made from two poles strung with a net.

"Right. It's a kind of ball game. You score points by getting the ball into the other side's goal, and whoever scores more wins."

"Oh, that sounds fun."

Mumu showed interest in this game he was seeing for the first time.

"Jin-hyeok, have you ever played it?"

"No."

Jin-hyeok hadn't either. This kind of organized Cuju was more popular in the imperial court than among commoners. Still, a few things looked different from what he'd generally understood about the game.

Are they using a Body-Lightening Technique?

Most of the cadets playing were using a Body-Lightening Technique while kicking the ball around. Maybe that was why the whole thing looked so much more skilled than a mere game. One cadet would carry the ball while using a movement skill, only for another to swoop in with a leg technique to steal it, and the exchanges looked almost like a clash of martial techniques.

Could that be an iron ball?

The ball wasn't made from a bladder like usual, either. It looked like it was forged from black iron, hard and heavy, and they were kicking and rolling it around all the same. Just from what they'd seen so far, this was clearly nothing like the Cuju that ordinary people played.

"Oh, looks like they're already practicing."

Someone approached them just then, speaking up. It was Hae Ryang.

"Hae Ryang?"

"Are you all headed to the same lecture too, understanding elegant movement skills?"

"Ah, must be the same class then."

"Yes. We finally get to attend a class together. What an honor, Miss Mo."

"Honor, my foot. Anyway, what was that you said just now? Already practicing?"

Hae Ryang smiled at Mo Il-hwa's curiosity and pointed toward the cadets playing Cuju.

"I heard that Cuju is one of Changcheon Martial Academy's proud traditions."

"It's just a game though."

"More than just a game, don't you think, given how skilled it looks? See how those seniors in orange are forming a crane formation over there?"

Just as Hae Ryang said, the group in orange had arranged themselves in the shape of a crane. The way they passed the ball back and forth looked remarkably orderly too.

"Huh, so it is."

"Cuju might be a game, but it requires teamwork, and you need a whole arsenal of tactics to run an efficient match."

"So that's why they practice like that?"

"Yes. Winning the tournament comes with a substantial prize, plus a scholarship and bonus points toward your grades, so they take it this seriously."

At that, Mo Il-hwa's eyes went wide.

"There's a grade bonus attached too? That's incredible."

"Yes. And every clan and even the imperial palace sends people to watch each tournament, so I hear it's quite profitable as well. See the writing on the back of the blue uniforms over there?"

Mumu narrowed his eyes and read it out.

"It says Nanhua Merchant Troupe."

"Huh? Isn't that one of the five great merchant troupes of the Central Plains?"

Nanhua Merchant Troupe. One of the five great merchant troupes of the Central Plains, based in Guizhou Province. It had originally been a troupe mainly selling tea in its home region, but by now its reach extended across nearly every corner of the Central Plains.

"It's a form of advertising. The Nanhua Merchant Troupe sponsors that team. Since clans and even the imperial palace take an interest in these matches, putting an ad on the uniforms means real exposure."

"Wow. So basically it makes money."

"As expected of you, Miss Mo, quick on the uptake."

Just as Hae Ryang said, the Cuju tournament was one of Changcheon Martial Academy's main sources of revenue. Funds raised through it went toward taxes owed to the imperial palace and covered the academy's operating costs. With so many interests tied up in it, Cuju had become one of the academy's most popular tournaments.

"Looks fun."

At Mumu's remark, Hae Ryang gave a small laugh.

"It looks that way, sure, but I hear it's quite difficult."

"Difficult?"

"Take that ball, for one. It's made of black iron, and I hear it weighs a full three hundred geun."

At that, Mo Il-hwa clicked her tongue.

"Seriously, why's the ball so heavy? I thought this was supposed to be an animal bladder filled with air."

"It's a match between cadets who've all learned Martial Arts, so if they used something that light, the ball wouldn't hold up against their Force of ki and would break easily, and I imagine the games would get pretty dull too fast otherwise."

"Can they even kick it?"

"They're kicking it right there, aren't they. Though I hear it takes a long time of practice to get to that point."

"...I suppose it would."

Jin-hyeok nodded in agreement. He'd wondered why the seniors playing Cuju wore such thick shoes. Probably to protect their feet from the black iron ball. No matter how skilled someone's movement skill was, or how much internal energy they poured into a kick, a single lapse in focus with a ball that heavy could easily end in injury.

Mo Il-hwa clicked her tongue again.

"Your whole body would fall apart playing a match like that."

"Injuries are probably common, sure. But that's exactly why there are so many spectators, isn't it, there's plenty to watch. Oh, look over there."

Where Hae Ryang pointed, someone was kicking the ball toward the goal. He raised his leg high for the kick, and the motion looked almost like an eagle diving.

Bang!

The instant the ball touched the top of his foot, the heavy black iron ball shot straight up. Jin-hyeok frowned. The goal was much lower, and seeing the ball rocket upward, it looked like a mistake.

Just as he thought so,

Fwoooosh!

The ball that had shot upward suddenly bent sharply midair and hurtled toward the goal at even greater speed.

"Oh!"

A gasp of admiration slipped from Mo Il-hwa's mouth. The way the ball had been kicked looked like an advanced technique in its own right.

"There's no blocking that."

"We'll see."

It really did seem impossible to stop, but the boy guarding the goal lowered his stance and slowly traced a Tai Chi circle with both hands, smooth and unhurried. Jin-hyeok muttered in astonishment.

"Wudang Tai Chi Palm."

It was the famous secret technique of the Wudang Sect, the Tai Chi Palm Technique.

Fwoomph!

The instant the flying black iron ball touched the fingertips of the boy guarding the goal, it looked as though it would sail straight in, but then it curved smoothly, following the arc of the boy's arms. It looked almost as if the solid black iron ball itself were bending. Jin-hyeok marveled inwardly at the sight.

Grafting of Flowers and Trees!

That was a technique far more advanced even than the Four Taels Moving a Thousand Jin, the true essence of using an opponent's own force against them, known as Grafting of Flowers and Trees. The essence of the Tai Chi Palm lay in exactly that, in using the opponent's force. Even Cho Il-ryang, second master of the Kangxi Three Heroes, hadn't reached that level.

Fwoooosh!

The black iron ball, caught by the Tai Chi Palm, spun to a stop between the boy's two palms. It was an astonishing sight.

"Wow! As expected of Cheong Seung, the Wudang Sect disciple ranked seventh among the second-year seniors."

At Hae Ryang's cheer, Jin-hyeok's eyes went serious.

So this is Wudang.

The wall that was the Wudang Sect really was high. Among the Nine Sects, it stood among the top ranks alongside Shaolin and Mount Hua Sect, every bit as formidable as its reputation. Cheong Seung, having blocked the ball, shouted with visible pride.

"Senior Young Jo's Spinless Eagle Kick is impressive, but the softest softness overcomes even the hardest strength in the end. My Tai Chi Palm can never be broken through."

It might have sounded arrogant, but no one could argue against it. His Tai Chi Palm truly was that impressive.

"Hah!"

Just then a boy leaped in and launched a kick at the black iron ball still spinning between Cheong Seung's hands.

"That won't wo... hup!"

Bang!

The ball, struck by the kick, gained even more spin and bounced high into the air. As luck would have it, the ball flew straight toward where Mumu and his friends stood, then fell and stopped right in front of them.

Thud!

The ball was so heavy that the spot where it landed cracked and caved in deep. Mo Il-hwa clicked her tongue at the sight.

"Wow, and they kick and block a thing like that."

It really was impressive. Just then, Cheong Seung, who'd lost the ball, waved a hand and called out.

"Sorry to bother you, juniors, but could you kick that black iron ball back this way?"

At that, Mumu spoke up, sounding like he thought this might be fun.

"I just kick it that way?"

At those words, Cheong Seung and every cadet on the Cuju field frowned, then broke into a smirk.

Cheong Seung waved his hands.

"Junior. The black iron ball is hard and heavy, your foot could get hurt, so just carry it ov..."

Shk!

Before he could even finish speaking, Mumu rolled up his sleeve at the ankle. A massive, swollen calf muscle came into view.

Crack! Crack!

Mumu's calf muscle and gastrocnemius twitched, then began to compress. The cadets on the Cuju field, too far away to see this clearly, waved their hands frantically to stop him.

"Wait a second... what are you about to do?"

"Don't. You'll hurt yourself."

"Hey, hey! You're with him, right, stop him!"

That was the exact moment. Mumu's compressed muscles exploded loose, and his foot struck the black iron ball.

Kwaaang!

The black iron ball, hit by Mumu's foot, shot off at a tremendous speed. It moved so fast that for an instant, the sound of it tearing through the air itself could be heard.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"What?"

"H-he kicked it!"

Every eye on the field went wide. Cheong Seung was no exception. He'd assumed there was no way the ball would even move, but suddenly it came rocketing toward him at incredible speed, and in his panic he snapped into the opening stance of the Tai Chi Palm.

Whoooosh!

What kind of ball is this?

The ball tore across the field like a rushing current, pure terror given form. Cheong Seung swallowed hard and poured everything he had into rotating his arms smoothly, forming the Tai Chi shape to unleash the Grafting of Flowers and Trees technique. But,

Fwaaang!

The soft Tai Chi force he'd raised simply got shoved aside, as if the black iron ball were ignoring it entirely. Cheong Seung, caught off guard, threw both hands out to catch the ball directly. In that instant,

"Gah!"

Fwoooosh!

Cheong Seung's body, still gripping the ball, was flung backward with terrifying force, passing straight through the goal. For one moment, the noisy field fell dead silent.

Footnotes:

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