WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Murim in my Hometown ◈

Chapter 55: Chivalrous Hero

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Yielding the first move did not simply mean telling the other person to attack first.

It meant that even after the other person attacked, you would only defend against one or two moves without counterattacking.

It was a courtesy or generosity a stronger martial artist extended to a weaker one.

Blocking those attacks stylishly would raise your reputation, but taking even one hit or counterattacking despite the promise would make you a laughingstock.

Yu Changyeong was clearly irritated, but did not refuse the first move.

Watching the two fight, I could understand why.

Yu Changyeong's Willow Leaf Saber was agile. He lunged forward and thrust straight in with the momentum of his charge.

Hwang Gangju calmly swung the Broadsword, knocked the saber tip aside, and slid into Yu Changyeong's left blind spot.

Having lost his flank in an instant, Yu Changyeong hastily pulled back the Willow Leaf Saber and twisted his body.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

After conceding three moves, Hwang Gangju counterattacked.

It was not a saber method properly learned from a sect. The techniques relied almost entirely on instinct and quick, intuitive improvisation.

That made Hwang Gangju seem quite difficult to deal with.

The fight did not even last twenty exchanges.

Hwang Gangju's Broadsword tore through Yu Changyeong's fierce barrage of saber strikes as though shattering them, then rose upward.

When the blade came down over his head, Yu Changyeong panicked. He tried to retreat, but it was too late.

Just as the Broadsword was about to split his head open, Hwang Gangju stylishly twisted a wrist and changed its path.

The Broadsword narrowly slid past Yu Changyeong's forehead before its broad flat struck his shoulder.

Thud!

Yu Changyeong lost his balance and was driven into the corner of the stage. They sat on the floor for a moment, then stood while coughing.

They were not badly injured, but did not dare rush in again.

After looking at Hwang Gangju, who stood proudly with the Broadsword lowered, Yu Changyeong sheathed the Willow Leaf Saber.

“I lost. Thank you for holding back.”

“I learned something from you.”

The two exchanged cupped-fist salutes and withdrew.

“Hwang Gangju wins!”

Joy and sorrow split the spectators who had placed bets. Cheers and curses poured onto the stage at the same time.

Most of the blade-carrying martial artists seemed to acknowledge the result.

“As expected of Hero Hwang.”

It was not because Hwang Gangju's martial skill had been overwhelming or extraordinary.

Unlike the other participants, who fought like fighting dogs and tore at each other until they were covered in blood, Hwang Gangju alone displayed the kind of sparring seen in the orthodox martial world.

From beginning to end, Hwang Gangju had been relaxed and dignified. It was so impressive that I thought a true chivalrous hero might look just like that.

Among martial artists who carried blades, there was no one who had not dreamed of becoming a chivalrous hero at least once. They could not help feeling stirred.

Hwang Gangju remained dignified throughout, as if the jeers of the gamblers surrounding the stage could not even be heard. Even I found it satisfying to watch.

Before the lingering impression could fade, two vicious-looking bladesmen engaged in a filthy brawl on the stage.

There were no techniques to speak of. It was a desperate dogfight.

Fights between weaker martial artists were usually more entertaining, so the spectators were delighted. Martial artists who knew how to use a blade merely shook their heads.

Then, out of nowhere, a masked swordsman appeared.

“I was wondering why there were no masked people. Looks like they'll start coming out one by one now.”

Goatee sneered mockingly.

“Back in the day, those idiot rising junior talents from the orthodox sects came here masked to show off their martial arts. But after some of them got stabbed to death in back alleys, that trend died out.”

Another participant grinned and chimed in.

“Anyone who wears a mask these days knows they'll get beaten black and blue, so they hide their face out of shame. Or their face is ugly enough to ruin the spectators' view.”

Feeling unfairly targeted, my hand unconsciously went to the mask tucked inside my clothes.

As if to shatter the crowd's prejudice, the masked swordsman used a fierce sword technique to cut off the right hand of a bladesman wielding a Great Saber.

It was a merciless attack meant to ensure victory.

After five or six more matches, an employee came looking for me.

“Are you Hero Blue Saber? You're next.”

Following the employee down the stairs, I took out my mask and put it on.

When I crossed the first floor and stepped onto the stage, the spectators began murmuring.

“What? Another masked one?”

“Is that the masked swordsman from earlier?”

“No. That one's wearing a saber, not a sword. The mask looks a little different too.”

“Apparently the alias is Blue Saber.”

“What are the odds?”

Bronze reflectors placed throughout the inn bounced lamplight onto the stage, leaving it bright without a single shadow.

The faces densely surrounding me were all bloodshot with excitement and heat.

The stares and murmurs pouring in from every direction mixed together and pressed down on my entire body.

I felt like a fighting dog thrown into a real fighting pit.

I came for the spirit herb, but this feels awful...

A middle-aged person carrying a Broadsword climbed onto the stage from the opposite side.

“I am Shandong Jongdo, Jo Iltae.”

“Blue Saber.”

As soon as our brief, meaningless introductions were over, Jo Iltae drew the blade.

I drew my long saber and lowered it toward the floor.

Jo Iltae stared at me and slowly circled to the left like a wolf. The fact that they did not rush in blindly showed that they had spent no small number of years living by the blade.

To avoid giving up my side, I matched Jo Iltae's pace and moved to the right, keeping them before me.

After testing each other for a moment, Jo Iltae suddenly rushed forward in great strides.

Closing the distance quickly, they boldly kicked off the ground and leaped into the air.

The Broadsword came down from overhead. It was a powerful blow that looked capable of splitting a boulder.

I used footwork to evade to the side and made a long cut at Jo Iltae's abdomen.

As though waiting for it, they threw themself sideways to evade and drew the Broadsword upward in a vertical stroke.

Clang!

The instant our blades met, I smoothly guided Jo Iltae's Broadsword away along its blade and aimed for their chest as they fell through the air.

Clang! Clang!

Jo Iltae raised the blade to block my saber tip, kicked off the ground again, and fiercely unleashed another technique.

I matched the rhythm of the exchange by combining basic defenses, vertical cuts, horizontal cuts, and thrusts with Footwork.

I did not use a single ultimate technique from the Heavenly Steel Saber Method.

It was not a saber method I had trained to show gambling trash.

I had learned all thirty-six forms of the Heavenly Steel Saber Method. I had also learned an Internal Energy Method and fought a brutal battle using inner energy against an expert like Pyo Holdeuk.

My eye for martial arts had grown much keener and deeper than before.

A saber method looked simpler than swordsmanship at first glance, making it easier for beginners to learn. But becoming a master was difficult. If one could not move beyond monotonous cuts that relied on brute strength, the flow of one's attacks would quickly be read.

That was a major reason swordsmen considered bladesmen a step below them.

Jo Iltae had solid fundamentals, but was not a bladesman who truly brought out the appeal of saber techniques.

Their movements for deflecting and winding around an opponent's weapon were weak, while the linked motions of cutting and thrusting were always half a beat too slow.

I deflected Jo Iltae's saber strike, saw through the feints and openings, then drove my long saber into the loosened gap.

The blade of the Broadsword tangled with my incoming long saber. I pulled it as though uprooting a tree.

With the technique's flow broken, it held no strength. The Broadsword left Jo Iltae's hand, flew over the spectators' heads, and embedded itself in the wall of the inn.

Jo Iltae's wrist twisted as the blade fell from their hand, and the blade of my long saber touched their throat.

Jo Iltae's face went pale. Trembling, they swallowed dryly. Their throat rose and fell against the blade, and a drop of blood ran down its edge.

“Do you want to keep going?”

“...I, I lost.”

I lowered my long saber and stepped back.

“Blue Saber wins!”

Jo Iltae looked down at their empty hand with a hollow expression before turning away. I sheathed my long saber and stepped down from the stage.

* * *

Goatee, the sinister swordsman, and all the other waiting participants went onto the stage in turn and accepted their respective results.

Some were injured, while others won. As martial artists who had spent years in this business, they somehow managed not to die.

Hwang Gangju, who had won by default thanks to a favorable draw, returned to the stage.

Coincidentally, the opponent was Twin Sabers, who had sneered at Hwang Gangju's chivalrous deed.

“Heh heh, your luck has run out. Still, Hero Hwang is merciful, so you probably won't die.”

When someone mockingly said that, Twin Sabers grinned.

“You idiots should just watch how a sable is hunted.”

“You mean dumping filth on the road?”

At my remark, Twin Sabers' eyes gleamed.

“Brother... you're quite something.”

Standing across from Hwang Gangju, Twin Sabers held a Goose-Quill Saber in each hand.

Martial artists who used dual sabers were rare.

It took extensive training to use both hands freely.

Twin Sabers skillfully swung both sabers and calmly blocked Hwang Gangju's Broadsword.

But they seemed hard-pressed to withstand the raw strength Hwang Gangju put behind the Broadsword.

Driven backward by Hwang Gangju's successive strikes, Twin Sabers absurdly fell backward.

It was a perfect opportunity.

One thrust into the leg or body could have inflicted a critical injury.

Nine out of ten martial artists would not hesitate in that situation. Even I would have put a blade through the thigh.

Hwang Gangju, respected as a chivalrous hero, was the one in ten.

The Broadsword moved instinctively, then stopped. There were too many watching eyes to attack a fallen opponent.

Twin Sabers used that opening to roll away and quickly rise.

“What are you doing? Just stab them!”

“Is this some kind of sparring tournament?”

The spectators rained down jeers, but Hwang Gangju bit the lip and shook the head.

From then on, Twin Sabers attacked without restraint. Hwang Gangju responded with direct, orthodox moves, deflecting or meeting the saber strikes head-on.

Like the renowned chivalrous hero Hwang Gangju was, there was no desire to win in a petty or cowardly way.

Against an opponent a level below, like Yu Changyeong, it was possible to hold back and still win stylishly.

But once Twin Sabers showed their true ability, they proved to be a formidable equal.

Realizing that this worked, Twin Sabers would launch a decisive attack. If it failed, they would open enough distance, then boldly tumble to the floor while pretending their feet had tangled.

Each time, Hwang Gangju flinched. Even from a distance, I could sense the frustration and conflict.

The desperate desire to win somehow, seize the tournament prize, and return home. The conviction to fight honorably and fairly.

Those two feelings seemed to be fiercely clashing within Hwang Gangju.

With Hwang Gangju's thoughts growing complicated, the battle of wits gradually began to turn against him. The rhythm of the match shifted in Twin Sabers' favor.

Hwang Gangju's shoulder was cut by the narrowest margin, and the two sabers hung over Hwang Gangju's chest.

“I lost.”

Hwang Gangju acknowledged defeat with a vacant expression.

Twin Sabers offered a cupped-fist salute and spoke words that might have been sincere or mocking.

“They say one does not walk an unrighteous path. Hero Hwang's reputation truly was not earned for nothing. This one is impressed.”

Hwang Gangju gathered himself, rose, exchanged a farewell, and left.

Sighs and encouragement, curses and cheers swept through the inn in a long wave.

Twin Sabers had used some clever tactics to overcome Hwang Gangju, only to be defeated in a match against the masked swordsman.

The masked swordsman advanced straight to the final.

There was still time before my next match, so I ate some travel rations and drank tea to quiet my hunger before heading out the back door for some air.

After escaping the stifling heat and breathing in the late autumn night air, I finally felt a little better.

I walked on, exhaling white breath, then stopped when I sensed someone nearby.

Someone was sitting on the stairs that led into an alley.

Under the fairly bright half-moon, a tall figure with strong features was dimly visible.

It was Hwang Gangju.

It was essential for a defeated martial artist to spend some time alone.

Time to carefully review the exchange, reflect on it, and turn it into nourishment for becoming stronger tomorrow.

I had gone through that countless times myself.

But Hwang Gangju was neither dwelling on defeat nor reviewing the fight.

Hwang Gangju's face was as dark as if it had sunk into mud. Lifeless eyes looked into deep despair.

Hwang Gangju looked so shabby and wretched that it was hard to believe this was the same Hero Hwang I had seen inside earlier.

He no longer wore the face of a chivalrous hero. It was not even the face of a martial artist.

The time of being a respected chivalrous hero on a dazzling stage was over.

Now it was time to go back to being a woman's husband and the father of several children, and walk through a shabby alley toward a home where a starving family waited.

If Hwang Gangju had shut his eyes and cut Twin Sabers' leg when they fell earlier, perhaps he would have reached the final.

But Hwang Gangju could not do it.

Twin Sabers had seen through Hwang Gangju's attachment to the reputation of an honorable chivalrous hero and exploited it thoroughly. That was why they mentioned hunting sables.

Sable fur was famous for being fine and beautiful, and sold for high prices in the market.

Sables knew how beautiful they were. That was why they hated getting their fur dirty.

Except when eating or sleeping, they spent their time constantly licking and grooming their fur clean.

When hunting a sable, people took advantage of that habit.

They scattered plenty of thoroughly fermented feces and urine along the paths the animal often used. Then the beaters drove the sable that way.

Even as death closed in from every direction, the sable would cling to its fur before the foul-smelling filth. Then it would be caught and skinned.

It seemed the title of chivalrous hero was Hwang Gangju's fur.

Perhaps it had begun with an accidental, minor good deed.

Maybe he had taught some thugs harassing villagers a lesson, and that led people to seek help one by one.

Being praised for chivalry, Hwang Gangju's shoulders must have risen with pride. Perhaps a sense of responsibility had formed as well.

After escaping a hard life of earning a living, he may have enjoyed, for the first time, the joy of being recognized by someone.

From then on, whenever someone needed help, he would have cast aside ordinary work and rushed over.

If someone offered rice or coins in thanks, he probably refused firmly, saying it had not been done for a reward.

A chivalrous hero's basic virtue was to value justice and disregard profit.

Chivalrous deeds were not something you did for money. That made you nothing more than a hired problem-solver.

Whenever you gained something beyond your means, it could become a disaster too great to bear.

Hwang Gangju's name might continue to be synonymous with a chivalrous hero in this region, but his family's circumstances would not improve.

I remembered the drunken rant of a middle-aged wandering martial artist who once said that, in youth, they had tried being a chivalrous hero.

Someone useful to have in your neighborhood, but someone you would never want as a member of your family.

That was a chivalrous hero.

Hwang Gangju covered his face with both hands. After watching a little longer, I silently returned to the inn.

The inn, which had been loud enough to hurt my ears just moments ago, had strangely fallen quiet.

Even the brightly lit stage was empty.

“Did something happen? Why is it so unsettled?”

“The Blood History Gang was ambushed.”

Bok Hagyu's face flashed through my mind. Had the Black Night Gang moved this quickly?

“What does the Blood History Gang have to do with the Martial Combat Tournament...”

“There they come.”

As if the man had not heard me at all, he hurriedly turned his head toward the entrance.

The gazes of the murmuring spectators and martial artists all gathered in one place. I turned in that direction as well.

A white-haired elder with a blade at the waist appeared, accompanied by a group of martial artists.

Age spots covered the weathered, wrinkled face, but the elder strode forward vigorously without a cane.

At a glance, this was no ordinary elder. They had clearly trained properly in martial arts.

The elder climbed onto the stage alone.

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