The Heaven-Slaying Sword - Chapter 33

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Order

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◈ The Heaven-Slaying Sword ◈

Chapter 33: Chapter Five - Dragon-Phoenix Assembly (6)

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Anhui was ablaze with excitement.

The fervor of the main tournament's first day had continued throughout the group tournament.

Now, wherever one went in She County, people were talking about that day's bouts.

It could not have been otherwise.

At this Dragon Phoenix Gathering, the Dragon Phoenix hierarchy, which had remained fixed for years, was being violently shaken.

First was the Poison Phoenix, who had returned after six years of silence.

Living up to her status as the heir of the Sichuan Tang Clan, she had displayed formidable skill and reached her group's final.

Her opponent was the White Phoenix, Hye-un, just as everyone had expected. With their match only four days away, some were even placing bets on the outcome.

"Still, it's the Poison Phoenix! Have you already forgotten what happened six years ago? Not a single opponent lasted even three moves against her before she reached the final!"

"The White Phoenix was in a different group back then! And even the Poison Phoenix was defeated by Sword Dragon within three moves in the final!"

"Sword Dragon is an exception! More importantly, she isn't facing Sword Dragon this time. She's facing the White Phoenix! I'm betting on the Poison Phoenix. I simply can't imagine her losing."

"Well, I'm betting on the White Phoenix. I don't know what the Poison Phoenix has been doing for the past six years, but the White Phoenix has consistently proven her skill all this time. That seems the sounder bet."

There was another place where silver changed hands over victory and defeat.

It concerned Group Two, where the Strange Dragon Jegal San, the Fist Dragon Il-un, and the Immortal Dragon Hyeon-gong stood.

"This one goes to the Fist Dragon! Shaolin calls him a talent seen once in a century! Who could reach the semifinals instead of him?"

"What are you talking about? Have you ever seen the Immortal Dragon frown when he steps onto the stage? He kept his composure even when facing Namgung Jin-cheon! Isn't it obvious that he'll win Group Two?"

"The Fist Dragon!"

"The Immortal Dragon!"

Perhaps the amusing part was that no one predicted Jegal San's victory.

Never before had so many Dragons been gathered in one group. With the Group Two semifinals taking place the next day, it had been dubbed the Group of Death and become the hottest topic of debate.

Yet there were two people drawing even more attention than all of that at this Dragon Phoenix Gathering.

Need one even say who they were?

Sword Dragon Namgung Jin-cheon and Ink Sword Mok Ri-won.

"...As expected, Sword Dragon truly lives up to his name. He hasn't swung his sword more than once in any match so far. He's certain to win Group One."

"The man called Ink Sword is remarkable too. As if he refuses to lose to Sword Dragon, hasn't he ended every match in a single move?"

There was no disagreement this time.

Though the group finals had not even concluded, every martial artist who had watched the matches was certain those two would advance to the semifinals.

There was no need to speak of Sword Dragon, and the same was true of Mok Ri-won.

On the first day of the main tournament, he had openly provoked Namgung Jin-cheon. Now, he had proven that arrogance with his skill.

By accomplishing the feat everyone had dismissed as madness, breaking his opponent's sword in the very first exchange.

"...In effect, the winners of Groups One and Four have already been decided."

"That's not all. Some people are even saying that Ink Sword will surpass the other members of the Dragon Phoenix ranks to reach the final."

It was absurd.

For a martial artist who had appeared in the Martial World less than a few months ago to receive such an appraisal.

And yet Mok Ri-won was receiving it.

This was the Martial World of the Central Plains, where one proved oneself with the sword.

Mok Ri-won had finished proving himself with his blade.

"If those two meet, it'll be in the final."

"That's right. Groups One and Three will face each other, as will Groups Two and Four, in the semifinals."

"Sword Dragon will naturally reach the final, while the man called Ink Sword..."

"He'll have to face the winner of Group Two and settle who is stronger."

The inn fell silent.

Could the man called Ink Sword truly stand against the Dragon who emerged from that Group of Death?

That was the question weighing on them.

"...If the Fist Dragon wins Group Two, I'll bet on him."

"If the Immortal Dragon comes out on top, I'll bet on him."

"I'll bet on Ink Sword."

"Hm?"

"I don't know why, but I have a feeling. I think he'll receive the title of a new Dragon at this Dragon Phoenix Gathering."

The other two men laughed at his words.

It was not mocking laughter.

"That would be an entertaining twist. I look forward to it."

"This is the Martial World. It would be no surprise for a new master to emerge at any time."

The three men raised their cups.

"Still, you know, don't you?"

The man who had earlier predicted Dang Hwa-seo and Il-un's victories spoke.

Another man grinned and answered.

"Of course. Sword Dragon will win it all anyway."

Clink.

Their cups struck together.

A new rising star had appeared in the White Path's Martial World, but one fact remained unchanged.

Sword Dragon Namgung Jin-cheon.

He was the master of this generation.

On a night in She County, the three men drank as they awaited the coming matches.

* * *

"Brother Mok, did you hear?"

"Hm? Hear what?"

"You've gained a new byname."

"Oh!!!"

At an inn not far from the estate, Mok Ri-won sprang to his feet while eating thin noodles and drinking Bamboo Leaf Green once again.

Dang Hwa-seo was equally curious. The group tournament had not even ended, yet he had already gained a new byname.

"That was fast. So, what is it?"

"Jade-Faced Sword, apparently."

"..."

Mok Ri-won's body stiffened with a creak.

His expression froze as well, filled with shock.

"...What?"

"Jade-Faced Sword. I heard that even the sight of you sighing after a match was like a painting."

Mok Ri-won's Adam's apple bobbed.

His face slowly filled with indignation.

Bang!

"I, I don't want a byname like that!"

When Mok Ri-won slammed his hand on the table, Jegal San twisted in his seat, snickering. Dang Hwa-seo pressed a hand to her forehead as if she had expected this.

"Young Hero Mok, Jegal is teasing you. Even if people really are saying such things, no one considers it a true byname. They simply think of it as a nickname."

"B-but still..."

"Still what?"

Dang Hwa-seo fixed Mok Ri-won with an icy stare.

Feeling so wronged he could have died, Mok Ri-won trembled with clenched fists.

Still, he could not argue back.

Mok Ri-won was afraid of being scolded.

'Miss Dang is too cruel!'

Though she knew how sensitive he was about humiliating bynames, she did not seem willing to understand. A sudden resentment rose within him.

His eyes naturally narrowed into a glare, but it was still Mok Ri-won's face.

"As expected! Even Jade-Faced Sword's pout is exquisite!"

"Brother Jegal!"

"Heh heh heh... My apologies!"

Smack!

"Argh!"

"You're too old to be bullying your younger brother. Fine behavior that is."

Thankfully, Dang Hwa-seo stopped Jegal San's mischief.

With an irritated look, she let out several heavy sighs and snatched Mok Ri-won's Bamboo Leaf Green to drink.

"Ah, that's..."

"I bought it with my own money."

"..."

Mok Ri-won shrank back, but Dang Hwa-seo had no room to care.

She was that irritated.

'Jade-Faced Sword, my ass.'

She had wondered why women screamed whenever it was Mok Ri-won's turn to compete. It seemed they had been saying such things behind the scenes.

As anger rose in her, making her feel she needed a drink, Dang Hwa-seo could not help but resent her clan once again.

'That damned Immunity to Ten Thousand Poisons.'

It even neutralized the effects of alcohol.

Thud.

"...I'm sorry. I was frustrated."

"No. Um... I'm sorry too. It isn't your fault that I received such a byname..."

Mok Ri-won carefully cradled the Bamboo Leaf Green she returned to him in both hands, watching Dang Hwa-seo's reaction.

Even then, his rolling eyes were so clear. When he lowered his gaze, his neat lashes stood out.

For an instant, Dang Hwa-seo felt her heart creak.

His appearance was far too dangerous.

"...Young Hero Mok. I say this out of concern, but if an unfamiliar woman approaches you and praises your matches, you must leave at once."

"Hm? All right."

"Good. The Martial World is a dangerous place. You may not need to fear the elderly or children, but you must be especially wary of women."

She was deeply concerned.

With such a soft nature, she could not shake the thought that women approaching him with improper intentions would make him suffer something awful.

No, there was already a precedent.

'White Phoenix...!'

The White Phoenix was her opponent in the final.

Dang Hwa-seo had clearly noticed Hye-un watching both Mok Ri-won and herself with a smile throughout the tournament.

Grit.

Dang Hwa-seo ground her teeth.

'Filthy whore.'

Not while she drew breath would Hye-un get Mok Ri-won.

With that thought, Dang Hwa-seo's fighting spirit flared once more.

Of course, Mok Ri-won and Jegal San knew nothing of her inner thoughts. They only found her frightening.

* * *

The next day arrived.

The tournament grounds carried a different kind of heat from before.

It was the Group of Death's semifinals.

The match between the Strange Dragon and the Fist Dragon was about to begin.

As it was effectively the final match before the group finals, the spectators' anticipation soared higher and higher.

"Venerable, please go easy on me."

"Amitabha."

Amid the bustle, Il-un joined his palms and recited the Buddha's name as he steadied his breathing.

For some reason, Jegal San felt a sense of unease from Il-un's demeanor.

"Brother Jegal! Good luck!!!"

Mok Ri-won cheered from afar, though sadly, it did not help much.

[Let the match begin! Strange Dragon Jegal San! Fist Dragon Il-un!]

The announcer raised a hand high.

Jegal San took jade stones from his robes and rolled them in his palm, releasing inner energy from his dantian.

In that instant.

Bang!

Il-un shot forward like a ray of light and thrust a fist toward Jegal San's instep.

Jegal San noticed it and swiftly dodged the punch, but his face had already turned white as paper.

"W-what..."

"Amitabha."

The floor of the tournament grounds shattered.

It should not have been a material that broke so easily, yet when Il-un drew back his fist, stone fragments crumbled down in fine pieces.

"V-venerable...?"

"Amitabha."

Il-un smiled softly.

"Whoaaaaa!"

The crowd's cheers rose at Il-un's fist art.

Only then did Jegal San realize.

'This...'

If he made one wrong move, he might be saying farewell to this world.

"Amitabha."

Jegal San slowly turned his creaking neck to look at Il-un.

Coldness filled Il-un's eyes as he continued murmuring, "Amitabha."

That was right.

He had not given up on shutting Jegal San's mouth.

At this point, one would think he could simply trust him and let the matter go. Unfortunately, Jegal San's usual behavior had been far too frivolous.

Il-un had thought of only one method.

Since he could not break the precept against killing, he would display such an overwhelming gap in strength that fear would take root deep in Jegal San's heart.

"Amitabha."

Jegal San made his decision quickly.

"I surren..."

Bang!

"...der. I surrender! I surrender! I surrenderrrr!"

Jegal San fled in terror.

Only then did Il-un smile in satisfaction and join his palms again. The spectators tilted their heads at the match, which had ended so absurdly easily.

"...What was that?"

The man who had once predicted that the Fist Dragon would reach the semifinals at the inn was caught between strange feelings, unsure whether to rejoice or mourn.

* * *

That night.

After finishing his training, Mok Ri-won hummed as he returned to his lodgings and recalled the day's events.

'Venerable Il-un was truly incredible.'

Jegal San had surrendered so quickly that he had not seen much, but he had still grasped the nature of the martial art behind Il-un's fist.

'It must have been Golden Sand Palm, one of Shaolin's Seventy-Two Arts.'

It had been a fist technique rather than a palm technique, but the power that had shattered the tournament floor could only have come from Golden Sand Palm.

After all, he had not felt even a trace of inner energy from Il-un's fist as it crushed the bare ground.

'So such a thing is possible with external martial arts alone.'

His excitement grew.

Mok Ri-won's heart pounded as he imagined what would happen if inner energy were added to those fists.

Naturally, he hoped Il-un would become his next opponent.

His group final was two days away.

The following week would bring the semifinals, where each group's victor competed against the others.

Impatience and excitement mingled into a pleasant tremor as Mok Ri-won walked along cheerfully.

"Oh my, Benefactor Mok?"

A woman's voice slipped into Mok Ri-won's ears.

Shiver.

Goosebumps rose over his entire body.