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Translator: Vine
Chapter Title: Understanding Assassin Martial Arts (1)
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Originally, the Jianghu had no concept of sparring.
There was a time when the world was ruled by a single sword, when eye contact was considered a provocation, and lethal strikes were thrown without hesitation—a time when romance and barbarism were superimposed in a quantum-mechanical fashion.
Thus, some yearned for the martial world of that era, while others claimed the current martial world was superior.
The one who turned the tide of that era was the greatest woman in the martial world.
Born into the unorthodox faction, she overcame untold hardships and adversities, finally reaching the pinnacle of martial arts, and brazenly declared:
"I am."
"The greatest of the unorthodox faction, the greatest under heaven, and the greatest of all time."
And with that, she planted a flag in the very heart of the righteous martial world.
A 'Bimu Chochin'—a martial arts competition to choose a spouse.
To seek a spouse through martial arts.
Of course, even before then, there were occasional skirmishes that weren't life-or-death duels, where combatants held back their strength.
But the strange fervor ignited by those four characters set the Central Plains ablaze.
Ultimately, she was defeated by the Martial Alliance Leader of that era.
After that.
She stayed at the Martial Alliance for a week, causing noise pollution, and even left behind the scandalous remark, "Oh, I'm actually just third-rateeee...!"
It's said that from then on, life-or-death duels and sparring matches began to be strictly distinguished.
"…You beggar. What in the world, damn it, I've lived long enough to hear all sorts of absurd things. My head hurts…"
"Brother Geum, have you lived your life being deceived? The legend of Habosam is a very famous story."
"Habosam? …Ah, crap."
Geum Sihyeon barely managed to steady his reeling mind and focused on the spectacle before him.
Four swords danced wildly, scattering in all directions, yet seemingly transforming into a precisely choreographed sword dance.
The situation was unfolding favorably for Murong Taek.
Even if he had entered secluded training, if one could achieve enlightenment by meditating for just over a month, the martial world's minimum cultivation level would already be at its peak.
Murong Wicheon, however, still hadn't grasped the elusive threads of enlightenment that tickled at the very edge of the late first-rate realm.
"Tch…!"
Having suffered another setback amidst the fierce offensive, Murong Wicheon hastily retreated.
Rather than pursuing immediately, Murong Taek chose to control the situation.
Though he had recently regained much of his confidence, it was too short a time to shake off the decade or more of accumulated feelings of defeat.
As safely as possible, slowly.
He wielded his sword with a calmness that was hard to believe, given his usual penchant for gambling.
"Hmm…"
"Brother Geum. It seems Brother Murong ate something bad."
"I agree. Fighting so g-… no, so cowardly… hmm, actually, that seems about right…"
Of course, his friends didn't look kindly upon this sight.
The same went for Murong Wicheon.
"You fool! Fight properly!"
The true value of twin-sword arts lies in relentlessly pressing the opponent, shining brightest through constant assault.
Thus, the lukewarm swordplay Murong Taek was currently displaying felt nothing short of an insult to Murong Wicheon.
He, who is but slightly less lowly.
How dare he humiliate me…!
Murong Wicheon's left and right swords surged forward again, drawing ever-changing trajectories as they pressed Murong Taek.
One exchange.
Two exchanges.
Three exchanges…
In less than a single moment, at least ten exchanges took place.
And again, it was Murong Wicheon who suffered the loss.
"Ptui!"
Spitting out the rising frustration onto the ground, Murong Wicheon momentarily observed himself.
Clearly, his sword art—the Qiankun Breaking-Sky Sword—was a deeper and more profound martial study than the Twin Dragon Whirlwind Sword.
Why couldn't he break through a sword stance that couldn't even properly form a single dragon, still retaining a slightly clumsy aspect?
Wasn't the Qiankun Breaking-Sky Sword the most profound martial art among twin-sword styles?
Fortunately for him.
And somewhat unfortunately for Murong Taek.
Murong Wicheon's perception was not so low as to fail to understand that subtle difference.
Soon, Murong Wicheon adjusted his stance again and launched the first attack once more.
However.
The sword art he chose this time was──
"Hooh. A mirror match."
"What's a mirror match?"
"It's a refined Western term for a match where opponents use the same martial art. You should study Western languages more diligently."
"Hoh…"
It was the Twin Dragon Whirlwind Sword, the same sword art Murong Taek was wielding.
Due to their shared bloodline, the two men, who subtly resembled each other in appearance, employed identical techniques, almost as if looking at their own reflections in a mirror.
Of course, Murong Wicheon had neglected his Twin Dragon Whirlwind Sword training for a while, so it felt awkward at first.
With every clash of swords.
With every ragged breath.
With every touch of inner energy drawn from his Dantian to his fingertips.
It became more accurate, more refined, and sharper, as if absorbing Murong Taek's sword art.
A choice he would never have made normally, due to his pride.
But now, all pride had completely vanished from Murong Wicheon's mind.
His usual condescending attitude towards Murong Taek also flowed away unnoticed as he wielded his sword.
Not as the family's legitimate heir versus its illegitimate son.
But as swordsman facing swordsman.
He cast aside his own deficiencies and embraced the sharpness of his opponent.
Before he knew it, in Murong Wicheon's vision.
The vast plains of Liaodong unfolded.
His childhood, spent in a somewhat desolate and barren place, hardly suitable for establishing a home or a family foundation.
Where it was common to hear news that the uncle who had patted his head yesterday had, the next day, burned away all the flames of his life fighting foreign invaders.
A place where struggle came before comfort.
Yes.
Victory and defeat are not merely common occurrences in war; one must win to survive.
This, too, must be the path.
It was a lightning-fast realization.
But Murong Wicheon was already a martial artist prepared to advance to the next stage.
For a fleeting moment, caught in a trance, the tension in his pupils loosened, but his sword strikes did not cease.
No, they began to grow even stronger.
"What? Suddenly?"
"Brother Geum. That fellow, didn't he just reach his climax?"
"Your choice of words, really…"
The sword energy, which had been swirling around the tip of his blade, unable to escape, now began to take on the form of a small but distinct dragon.
Soon after.
"Whooosh…"
Murong Wicheon, his consciousness once again emerging from his inner world and returning to reality, let out a deep breath.
Murong Wicheon, perhaps for the first time.
No, now that he thought about it, perhaps it was twice, or three times, or even more than ten times──regardless, he felt grateful towards Murong Taek.
However.
"Gahk──"
The first thing Murong Wicheon encountered after grasping his enlightenment and emerging was.
An intense pain surging through his lower abdomen.
Murong Taek's kick landed precisely on Murong Wicheon's groin.
A short while later.
There was a debate among the judges as to whether kicking the groin in a sparring match constituted a lethal strike or a legitimate application of leg techniques.
However, extenuating circumstances were recognized, given that he had been allowed time to consolidate his enlightenment, a most crucial moment for a martial artist.
"…Defeat is defeat. This defeat will make me stronger."
Of course, Murong Wicheon also conceded defeat once he regained consciousness.
"The winner of the first-year sparring tournament is Murong Taek, the Guardian…!"
Murong Seol, with a strange expression mixed with half pride and half embarrassment, came forward as the representative (a bit of a chore) and declared Murong Taek's victory.
Murong Taek, wearing an even more embarrassed expression than Murong Seol, humbly accepted the cheers and jeers pouring in from the audience.
"Hmm… Brother Geum. Since he displayed a killer move that felt like pouring cold water on the atmosphere, 'Cold Water Taek' might be a good new nickname for him."
"A fitting description, indeed."
Geum Sihyeon and Unhak broke into wide smiles.
It felt less like joy for a friend's victory and more like the mischievous laughter of rascals who had found a new toy.
* * *
After the sparring tournament.
All fun completely vanished from Baekhwa Academy.
Biologically, dopamine secretion also had a threshold, so part of it was due to having spent May too 'hotly'.
"Ugh, ugh…"
The intensity of classes began to get tougher and tougher.
The course he regretted taking the most was 'Understanding Unorthodox Martial Arts'.
Sorry to say this to Master Dakbu, but…
No, actually, I'm not sorry at all…!
"Hah, hah, hah…"
"The champion, is, whining, huh…"
"…"
Seeing Cold Water Taek, who was suffering even more than me, I felt my spirits lift.
This must be what it means to have friends.
"Stop!"
CRASH!
THUD!
THUMP!
Simultaneously with Master Dakbu's shout.
The sound of sandbags, wrapped tightly around various bodies, being untied and thrown onto the floor, echoed from all directions.
"Amitabha, everyone has worked hard."
The voice of Monk Gakwon, the bald elder who had corrupted half the class content into 'Understanding External Martial Arts', further irritated him.
If he was given the Great Rejuvenation Pill, he should have quietly returned to Shaolin Temple, but instead, he stubbornly stuck around, claiming to help with the external martial arts lectures.
He subtly tried to protest to Master Dakbu, but.
"– Hmm, my disciple. Monk Gakwon has probably smashed the heads of at least a thousand unorthodox scoundrels. Some say the reason the unorthodox faction can't gain a foothold in Hubei Province is because Monk Gakwon keeps such a watchful eye."
It didn't work at all.
"That's all for today's class! Everyone worked hard!"
Master Dakbu cheerfully declared dismissal.
"A drink?"
"Sounds good."
"I'm coming too."
"Ah, he poured cold water in the alcohol…"
"This bastard…"
Just as they were about to leisurely stroll towards Baekhwa City, exchanging their usual nonsensical banter to unwind from the day's fatigue.
Bzzzt──
His smartphone, which he had set to not even vibrate unless it was a call from a select few, vibrated for the first time in a while.
[Geum Sirang]
[Come to my instructor's office immediately upon receiving this]
"…You guys will have to drink without me."
He lightly smacked Unhak's head to subdue his whining about him going to meet another girl, then took heavy steps.
He's not someone who usually contacts me first.
I hope nothing's wrong.