WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Oblivious
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◈ Murim in my Hometown ◈
Chapter 54: Martial Arts Tournament
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It was not as though there were no spirit herbs available for eighty taels of silver.
Whenever the herbalist had a special offer, they would line up several wooden boxes.
“Now then, this is no ordinary purple-root herb. It’s at least thirty years old, but people overlook it because it looks a little ugly. In this world, as long as a spirit herb is effective, what crime has it committed by being unattractive...?”
Even I, who knew little about herbs, could see that it was not much different from the ones Do Hoengil had rejected before.
After listening to the herbalist chatter excitedly, I shook my head and got up.
“When will you have spirit herbs of at least medium grade?”
The herbalist smacked their lips regretfully.
“Spirit herbs are not something people cultivate, so we cannot guarantee it either. Even if we have one, it would be difficult at that price. You were truly fortunate last time.”
The herbalist glanced at the long saber at my waist and subtly changed the subject.
“If you are in urgent need, why not enter the Martial Combat Tournament being held tomorrow? There may be a spirit herb among the prizes.”
“A Martial Combat Tournament? There’s something like that here?”
“Of course. Wherever there is a Black Market, there are many martial artists and plenty of reasons to fight, so organizing a grand brawl is easy enough.”
The tournament the herbalist told me about was being held at a five-story tavern called Silver Brilliance Tower.
The spacious first floor, which ought to have been bustling with customers, had been cleared of tables and chairs and converted into a fighting arena.
Martial artists carrying weapons swarmed around it. On closer inspection, staff members were taking registrations here and there.
I stood in line a little apart from the crowd, and it was soon my turn.
“Is this where the Martial Combat Tournament is being held?”
“That is correct. This tournament will take place tomorrow night.”
“I heard there are prizes for the winner.”
“They differ every time. Tomorrow’s first prize is the Solar-Origin Elemental Sword. The runner-up prize is the Gaho Water Lotus Herb.”
I had never heard of either item.
I did not know how remarkable they were, but the herbalist had said the quality of tournament prizes was assured.
A Martial Combat Tournament was a Tangerous fight where one could die or be crippled.
There was a reason such costly prizes had been offered.
In the past, I would not have even dared join in. If I had not learned internal energy, I would have ignored it even now.
I had felt the overwhelming power of internal energy firsthand in real combat. It had been such an intense experience that I could not even imagine returning to the time before I possessed it.
Even when I did not use it in battle, merely training consumed a little internal energy.
I only had five pills left that could replenish it. Would that be enough to last through the winter?
Even if I mastered the Heavenly Steel Saber Method through endless practice, my forms would helplessly lose their strength and speed when facing someone who used internal energy.
Even now, remembering how terrifying it had been when Pyo Holdeuk first used internal energy to attack me sent chills down my spine.
Yet even Pyo Holdeuk had possessed less internal energy than I did, and in the end, Pyo Holdeuk’s head had flown from their shoulders.
If I could not find proper spirit herbs and make more pills, I might end up the same way someday.
Besides, I had grown considerably stronger.
I had not been overwhelmed even when fighting a Black Night Gang Squad Leader, and I had killed an internal-energy master from Tianshan like Pyo Holdeuk. Still, I had no idea what Tangers might await.
Should I participate or not...?
If I could use internal energy, then even in the worst-case scenario, I could escape an opponent’s saber or sword without serious injury.
When I circulated a great deal of inner energy, my aura changed completely.
Yet even a thread of it, as fine as silk, could bring my body to peak condition, as though I had eaten well and slept deeply.
The slight increase in speed and strength would be difficult to notice, just as I had not noticed when Do Hoengil first used internal energy.
In a desperate situation where combat was fierce, it would surely be a great help.
Still, using it before such a large crowd of spectators made me deeply uneasy.
What if I hid my face behind a mask or face covering? Then perhaps it was worth trying.
A medium-grade or higher spirit herb was worth that much. There was no other way to obtain one.
I could enter for now, then withdraw somehow if things went badly.
After agonizing over it for a long while, I spoke.
“I will participate.”
“The entry fee is one tael of silver.”
“Why is it so expensive? Other places charge less than half a tael.”
Apparently accustomed to this reaction, the staff member smoothly explained.
“The prizes are worth the price. The Solar-Origin Elemental Sword is a treasured sword made from Hundred-Forged Refined Steel, while the Gaho Water Lotus Herb is a spirit herb used as a restorative medicine, sought after not only by masters wishing to increase their internal energy but also by high officials and nobles.”
I was far too short of money to obtain a proper spirit herb in the Black Market anyway. Treating it as though I were throwing away one tael of silver, I paid the entry fee.
The staff member handed me a pristine white wooden plaque.
“Write your name or alias here.”
I did not want to reveal my name, and I did not yet have an alias. After considering it for a moment, I wrote Blue Saber, pronounced Cheongdo, an abbreviation of “Cheongsan’s saber warrior.”
It was not something I had wanted, but I had become the Direct Successor of Cheongsan Sect’s Saber Branch. Calling myself a saber warrior of Cheongsan would not be wrong.
The staff member entered the name in a ledger and returned the plaque.
“Please come here before sunset tomorrow evening and show this participant plaque. You will be guided to the waiting room. I wish you victory, Hero.”
As I put the participant plaque into my clothes, someone cupped their fists toward me.
“Young Hero, may I speak with you for a moment?”
It was a tall, strongly built middle-aged person.
With clear eyes and bold features, they looked so open and heroic that anyone would call them a chivalrous hero wherever they went.
“What is it?”
The middle-aged person glanced around and lowered their voice.
“Ahem, ahem. If it is not too much trouble, could you write my name on this plaque? My eyes have grown dim with age, so I cannot see very well, haha.”
The wooden plaque they held out was covered in ink. It seemed they had written their name, disliked it, and covered it with ink.
Quite a few martial artists were illiterate and could not even write their own names.
Even those who could barely write did not practice, so they remained stuck with handwriting like a child’s scribbles until the day they died.
“What is your full name?”
“Hwang Gangju.”
Both the family name and given name were Hanja with many strokes. Unless written with the proper stroke order, the characters could easily turn out uneven, blurred, and messy.
I turned the plaque over, braced it against the wall, held the fine brush upright, and wrote the name in neat regular script before returning it.
Apparently, the writing skills I had paid scholars to teach me had not rusted much. It looked decent enough.
Hwang Gangju accepted the plaque, nodded with satisfaction, and said, “Excellent handwriting. Thank you. How should I repay you...?”
“It is unnecessary. It was nothing.”
I waved it off, left, and returned to the inn.
* * *
“You’re entering the Martial Combat Tournament? When?”
“Tonight.”
Over breakfast at the inn, I explained what had happened the night before to Tang Hyeseo.
“Are you confident? Martial Combat Tournaments can be quite brutal.”
“I will be fine.”
“Hmm. I should go watch.”
“You are not returning to Seochon?”
“I will look around the Black Market for one more day, then leave tomorrow.”
I nodded and moved my chopsticks, then something suddenly came to mind.
“Do you happen to have another one of those masks from yesterday?”
“Why?”
“I would rather not make my face known.”
“You are planning to wear one in the tournament?”
I nodded as I picked up a dumpling.
“I should. If I win, many people will recognize me.”
There was no safe gambling den in this world. The Martial Combat Tournament was no exception.
If I took second place and received a prize, someone might come after me immediately.
There could be idiots who had bet on me and lost, then wanted to vent their anger.
To avoid becoming caught up in trouble, hiding both my name and face was best.
“Why not wear a face covering? The strongest person at every tournament is always some unknown master wearing one. It would intimidate everyone from the start too.”
“I am saying this because I do not have one.”
Tang Hyeseo looked at me with a puzzled expression.
“Why would you not have one?”
For a moment, I was speechless. Why would I not have one...?
Did Tang Hyeseo, like Bok Hagyu, see me as the sort of person who would put on a face covering and commit murder and robbery whenever the need arose?
“...Not every martial artist carries a face covering.”
“I have one. Bihyeon has one too.”
“A face covering? What for?”
Tang Hyeseo replied calmly, as though it were obvious.
“You use one when it is inconvenient to reveal your identity. Make one and wear it. Masks come off easily in a fight, and they obstruct your vision too.”
“You seem to have worn them often.”
“You wear one when you need to. Instead of killing everyone who sees your face, hiding it saves several lives and lets you avoid bloodshed.”
It was an extremely Tang Clan-like way of thinking, yet oddly sensible.
For the rest of the day, Bihyeon and I escorted Tang Hyeseo as we visited several Black Market merchants.
I asked here and there whether they had spirit herbs, but eighty taels of silver was nowhere near enough.
If I wanted to bring even one spirit herb back to Seochon, I had no choice but to take second place in the Martial Combat Tournament.
In the late afternoon, I returned to the inn and made a face covering from fabric bought at a cloth shop.
After dinner, we all headed to Silver Brilliance Tower.
The sky had only begun to glow with sunset, but the tavern was already loud and lively.
Booom!
“Lightning Saber wins!”
“That’s it! I knew you would do it, Lightning Saber!”
“Jiangxi Wandering Swordsman, you bastard! How could you fail to endure that?”
Before we could even cross the threshold, a staff member hurried over to greet us.
“It has already started?”
“This is the first Martial Combat Tournament in half a year, so there are quite a few participants. We are holding preliminary matches immediately in the order people arrive. Otherwise, even several sleepless nights would not be enough.”
It was not only the skilled martial artists of Baekgye County who had been waiting for this day.
Gamblers from all over the region and spectators looking for entertainment had crowded in as well. There was not a single empty seat on the first floor.
Outside, it was chilly enough to make one crave a drink, but inside the tavern was hot with the excitement and heat pouring off the crowd.
“Admission is one hundred copper coins.”
I showed my participant plaque and was allowed through.
Tang Hyeseo, wearing the mask of a middle-aged man, and Bihyeon paid extra and were guided to special seats on the third floor.
The tournament participants leaned against the second-floor railing and watched the stage below.
No one looked away from the arena when I arrived. I took a place at an empty section of railing.
The next match began immediately.
A large fighter with a dark face suited to the name Black Bear faced a thin man called Mad Laughing Sword.
Black Bear used a typical saber style that overwhelmed opponents with brute force, while Mad Laughing Sword employed a sinister sword style, darting in and out to strike at openings.
It did not matter who won, but I found myself quietly cheering for Black Bear.
The match did not even last ten exchanges.
Mad Laughing Sword deflected Black Bear’s saber strike with a crafty sword form and cut Black Bear’s arm. Then Black Bear’s side split open as well, spilling blood.
“Die, you rat-faced bastard!”
Black Bear’s eyes rolled back as they charged forward, taking sword strikes with their whole body. In an instant, Black Bear closed the distance and succeeded in cutting Mad Laughing Sword’s shoulder.
The moment Black Bear’s face filled with cruel delight, blood burst from their throat.
Urk!
Clutching their half-severed neck, Black Bear staggered backward. A person lived longer by knowing when to advance and when to retreat, but Black Bear had realized it one step too late.
Thud!
Black Bear collapsed with a heavy crash that shook the floor.
“Mad Laughing Guest wins!”
Waaah!
“Just as I thought, fights are not won by size! Mad Laughing Guest pays seven times the stake. Hahaha! What incredible luck so early in the evening!”
“Black Bear! You useless oversized idiot! Get up! Do you think I bet on you so you could lie there?”
No matter how fiercely the gamblers berated Black Bear, they could not rise.
Blood spread wide around Black Bear’s head, and after convulsing briefly, they died.
Several staff members rushed in and dragged Black Bear’s limp body away, leaving a long trail of blood on the floor.
Someone had just died, yet no one screamed in shock or demanded accountability for Black Bear’s death.
Those who had bet on Mad Laughing Sword cheered, while those who had bet on the dead Black Bear merely cursed and spat out abuse.
This was a Martial Combat Tournament.
Even when fighters wielded the same blades on the same stage, it was completely different from a spar, where they competed in skill, gained experience, and elevated their sect’s honor.
From beginning to end, a Martial Combat Tournament was only about money.
The organizers made enormous sums from entry fees, admission fees, and match betting.
Most participants died or were injured, while most gamblers who placed bets ended up penniless.
Only the winner and a few eliminated participants who had displayed skill gained an opportunity to become guest retainers of small or medium-sized gangs and sects.
A Martial Combat Tournament was no different from cockfighting or dogfighting. The only difference was that martial artists with two legs fought in place of roosters and dogs.
I had watched a few such tournaments while wandering the Central Plains, but I had never participated in one.
I hated this damned atmosphere.
No matter how much martial artists’ lives might be worth less than dogs or pigs, I did not want to swing a blade while being treated like a fighting rooster or dog.
If a spirit herb had not been offered as a prize, if I had not learned internal energy, I would not have given a Martial Combat Tournament a second glance.
The staff cleaned away the bloodstains, and the matches continued.
Two martial artists stepped onto the stage, which still reeked of blood.
Spectators who recognized one of them raised their voices.
“Oh, it is Hero Hwang! Hero Hwang Gangju!”
The martial artists leaning against the railing and watching the arena stirred as well.
The face was familiar to me too. It was the middle-aged person who had asked me to write their name on their participant plaque yesterday.
A goat-bearded blade wielder sighed.
“Ah, Hero Hwang entered this tournament too. This will not be easy...”
“Who is that?”
“He is a renowned chivalrous hero from Juhang-ri.”
A martial artist with twin blades on their back gave a scornful snort.
“A chivalrous hero? Every dog and cow calls themselves a great hero these days. Even thugs who extort money in the marketplace claim to be chivalrous heroes. What is so special about that?”
The goat-bearded fighter frowned indignantly, as though their own family had been insulted.
“Hero Hwang is a true chivalrous hero, fundamentally different from those scoundrels.”
A swordsman with a gloomy expression, who had remained silent until then, spoke.
“I have heard of Hero Hwang from Juhang-ri too. They say he is a true man filled with loyalty and chivalry.”
The goat-bearded fighter burst into hearty laughter with a proud expression.
“Haha, that is right. He is made of different stuff from blade wielders like us who scrape by day to day. A relative of mine lives in Juhang-ri, and they say whenever the villagers suffer an injustice, they seek Hero Hwang before even the County Magistrate.”
Seeing everyone listening, the goat-bearded fighter puffed themself up and continued.
“Whether they are street ruffians, bandits, or thugs hired by landlords, there is no one Hero Hwang has not crushed. Yet he asks for nothing in return. He is the sort of true great hero one would find in chivalric tales.”
“Hmph. That was quite a long-winded way of saying he meddles in everything.”
The twin-blade wielder remained cynical. The goat-bearded fighter was about to retort when the swordsman spoke again.
“I heard Hero Hwang’s family circumstances are poor. There are even stories that his family goes hungry. I also heard that his child fell ill, and their home was taken by creditors while he tried to pay for medicine.”
The goat-bearded fighter clicked their tongue with a sorrowful expression.
“Tsk, does that not show how remarkable he is? In a world where people put on face coverings and climb over others’ walls after going hungry for only one day, he always puts righteousness first and fulfills his duty as a chivalrous hero... Men like us could never imitate him, even if we died and came back to life.”
Could there really be a martial artist like that?
Even among orthodox martial artists, many cared for and maintained their reputations, but I had rarely seen a truly chivalrous hero.
The goat-bearded fighter looked down at Hwang Gangju on the stage with eyes filled with both admiration and pity, then muttered as though talking to themself.
“How easy could it be to protect the reputation of a chivalrous hero? I hope Hero Hwang wins today...”
Hwang Gangju cupped his fists toward the opponent standing across from him on the stage.
“I am Hwang Gangju of Juhang-ri.”
The opponent returned the greeting politely.
“I am Yu Changyeong. I have long heard of Hero Hwang’s reputation. It is an honor to have the chance to learn from you.”
Once the introductions were over, the two martial artists drew their blades and pointed them at one another.
Hwang Gangju lowered his blade tip and spoke with a relaxed expression.
“I will yield the first move.”
“...Then I will not refuse.”
Yu Changyeong bit his lip, kicked off the floor, and charged.
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