Pay‑to‑Win King of Martial Arts (Novel) - Chapter 89 - Formal Match (6)

Chapter 89 – Formal Match (6)

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Translated by Heavenly Cat

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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Mount Hua’s Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword.

Wudang’s Taiji Wisdom Sword.

Zhongnan’s Taiyi Sword.

Dian Cang’s Four-Illumination Sword Art.

Hainan’s South Sea Sword.

The representative sword arts of the Nine Great Sects were known to many people. Since many people had seen them, recorded them, and passed them along by word of mouth, even their forms were well known.

In that sense, from the beginning the fight between the Wudang Sect and the Zhuge Clan had been disadvantageous for Wudang. Of course, that was under the premise that their strengths were otherwise similar.

Ordinarily, it would not have mattered much. That was because the Zhuge Clan was far beneath the Wudang Sect in martial arts.

But by some method, the Zhuge Clan had suddenly achieved a rise in martial skill.

And so I devised one strategy. It was to give the people behind us as much chance as possible to observe the Zhuge Clan’s martial arts.

If the people of the Zhuge Clan had not been strong, it would have shown too clearly. It would have looked like we were deliberately not winning a battle anyone could see we should win.

But fortunately, the Zhuge Clan’s people were strong, and so we were able to watch the Zhuge Clan’s martial arts naturally.

Also, because they kept using martial arts in a one-sided offensive rush, the Zhuge martial artists became heated and their movements grew larger, to the point that their forms could be distinguished. Even leaving me aside, the first-generation and second-generation disciples were experts who had studied martial arts for at least ten years. Facing something you knew and facing something you did not know were as different as heaven and earth.

“I saw it well.”

“The third form is a bit sharp. The fourth form is a bit dull.”

“What about the last form?”

“Looks like the wondrous principle of swiftness.”

“Confirmed.”

Like that, after each spar ended, we held a brief post-match review. While our cute senior brothers were out leveling the ground, that was what we had been talking about.

This was a strategy even the elders did not know, and the other disciples did not know either. It could not be otherwise. I had improvised it on the spot.

At first, Myeong-yeop said why were we going to such lengths just to beat the Zhuge Clan of all people, and suggested we simply finish them cleanly five to zero in front of the elders. But once Myeong-hwa’s first spar ended in defeat, even he seriously joined in the analysis.

The analysis continued seriously up through the eighth spar. That was why, even when we could have won more quickly, we kept drawing the fights back toward our side and analyzing the Zhuge Clan’s martial arts in detail.

“So that is the Heavenly Star Sword Art.”

“It’s extremely sharp. It’s a martial art focused on striking where one does not expect.”

Even during the spars we kept exchanging opinions. Naturally, quietly, because the people of the Zhuge Clan must not hear it. That was why even the elders likely had not heard.

“The final spar is between Young Master Muk Hui-yeong and Young Master Zhuge Jun.”

At Mok In-hak’s words, I prepared to go out.

At that moment, Myeong-yeop spoke from behind me.

“There’s no one left behind you to watch anymore.”

I paused for just a moment, then walked forward. He meant I should go all out. There were no more spars after mine.

“So you’re Muk Hui-yeong.”

The instant I stepped onto the training ground, Zhuge Jun spoke abruptly. Zhuge Jun had slightly slanted eyebrows, which made him look rough.

“That’s right.”

“So you’re the bastard who’s been giving our father headaches.”

“But let me ask just one thing.”

“Ask after you win.”

“I’m going to win, so I’ll ask in advance. Are all the people who came out now really that Clan Head’s actual children?”

Zhuge Jun’s eyes widened. Whether I knew or not, it seemed to have been an extremely offensive thing to say. Or perhaps it had offended him when I said I would win.

“That is none of the concern of a lowborn thing like you.”

“Does he at least have a mother too?”

“You seem desperate to die.”

I had asked out of genuine curiosity, not as an insult. But if he took it that way, there was no need for me to bother explaining myself.

“Enough. The elders are watching as well.”

Mok In-hak quietly restrained the two of us. We each went to our own positions.

I pushed my sword partway free with my thumb. Zhuge Jun drew his own sword in response. Perhaps it was only my imagination, but unlike the others, Zhuge Jun’s sword seemed honed with an even more vicious edge.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Unlike me, who answered aloud, Zhuge Jun simply nodded his head. Mok In-hak frowned slightly as though offended, but he could say nothing. As he himself had said, the elders were watching.

“Then begin.”

At Mok In-hak’s declaration, Zhuge Jun shot at me like a cannonball. Zhuge Jun’s figure, with his head thrust forward, rapidly grew larger within my eyes.

“You’ll die here today.”

When Zhuge Jun came close enough to touch me, he whispered that to me.

In truth, Zhuge Jun’s sword from the very first move was an open killing blow.

“Th-that!”

It was a murderous strike dangerous enough that Wudang’s elders, Master included, all sprang to their feet, yet I watched it without shutting my eyes.

I leisurely watched Zhuge Jun’s sword, then watched Zhuge Jun’s eyes. Zhuge Jun too seemed to realize that his sword path had been seen through.

Thanks to the fact that the first-generation and second-generation disciples, or as they would put it, my senior brothers, had shown me the Zhuge Clan’s martial arts throughout the previous eight bouts, it was easy to predict the path of the sword. At this moment, the Zhuge Clan’s sword was more familiar to my eyes than Wudang’s own sword.

And now, as Myeong-yeop had said, there was no longer any need to make the Zhuge Clan show their swordsmanship. Rather, I stepped forward into that very killing blow. It was the first moment in which someone from Wudang, who until then had only been driven backward, stepped forward instead.

I could feel Zhuge Jun flinch in surprise. For someone to step into the very trajectory where he was scattering killing blows meant one of two things. Either the difference in skill was so great that the other could not even see the trajectory, or he had the confidence to shatter that trajectory. Naturally, I was the latter.

“And are you prepared to die.”

As though reciting a line, I said those words and quietly matched my breathing to the sword. Mist and a clear fragrance poured thickly from my blade.

First form of the Flowing Cloud Sword Art.

It was the moment when Flowing Cloud, Mist Enveloping All unfolded.

***

“Th-that!”

Cheong-hwa sprang to his feet. Cheong-ui too felt his liver go cold. Until now, though the two sides had certainly been on edge, it had at least still resembled sparring proper to the orthodox path. They had not openly exchanged killing blows from the outset, and they had shown one another the courtesy of avoiding fatal points.

But Zhuge Jun was different. The instant he kicked off the ground, he launched a killing strike at Muk Hui-yeong. Quietly, Cheong-ui glared at Zhuge Gyeom. Zhuge Gyeom’s eyes were smiling slightly.

Cheong-hwa at his side looked as though he might leap onto the training ground and interfere that very instant. But Cheong-ui saw Muk Hui-yeong’s movement before Cheong-hwa did.

Muk Hui-yeong stepped forward instead, into the storm where the killing blow lay waiting.

“Cheong-hwa, calm yourself.”

Along with Cheong-ui’s words, mist burst forth enough to cover the entire training ground.

If the معيار of attainment in Mount Hua’s Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword was how many blossoms it could make bloom, then in the Flowing Cloud Sword Art, the معیار of attainment was how thickly and widely one could spread the mist.

In that sense, the Flowing Cloud Sword Art Muk Hui-yeong was using now was at an extraordinary level of attainment. So much so that Wudang’s disciples were startled.

“At that level of mist, hasn’t he practically reached great completion?”

“It seems about on par with my master…”

The murmuring of the disciples could be heard. Cheong-ui too was astonished, but as he had to preserve his dignity, he remained quiet.

‘To think he reached great completion in the Flowing Cloud Sword Art too in not even a few months.’

The Flowing Cloud Sword Art was not the total essence of Wudang’s martial arts, but it was still a martial art difficult for an ordinary person to master. In that regard, the Flowing Cloud Sword Art was the first step used to sift out the disciples’ talent.

And Muk Hui-yeong had leapt absurdly beyond that step.

“Ah!”

One of the disciples cried out in surprise. One black shadow of a sword within the mist had vanished in an instant.

Cheong-ui’s neck turned upward toward the sky. What he saw first were Muk Hui-yeong’s bloodshot eyes. Muk Hui-yeong had leapt into the sky and was now bringing his sword down toward the earth.

‘At such a young age, just what kind of experiences has he had.’

Those bloodshot eyes could not be explained by martial arts and comprehension alone. They were eyes filled with the resolve to kill. The instant he saw the killing intent coiled within Zhuge Jun’s sword path, he had changed.

To keep one’s own killing intent under control, then bring it out in response to another’s killing intent, was something that required more cultivation than one might expect. Since it was a matter of controlling one’s own heart, how could it be easy. Even among the elders, there were many whose mind-cultivation was insufficient.

Yet now Muk Hui-yeong was drawing out killing intent suited to his opponent. That meant he was controlling his own heart perfectly to that extent.

“Remarkable.”

Boom!

Along with Cheong-ui’s murmur, Muk Hui-yeong struck the ground like a falling meteor. The ground was ripped apart, and earth and pebbles scattered everywhere.

Adults from both the Zhuge Clan and Wudang stepped out to block the pebbles from flying toward the disciples. At that speed, even small pebbles could badly injure someone if they were struck off guard.

“Just what…”

Even Cheong-hwa, his own master, could only mutter blankly.

The Flowing Cloud Sword Art was characterized by its ever-changing sword paths that flowed gracefully within mist. That meant one had to be able to freely apply links and variations between one form and the next. That was why the Flowing Cloud Sword Art was easy to enter, but difficult to bring to great completion.

And yet Muk Hui-yeong was carrying it out perfectly. Zhuge Jun’s initial momentum had been completely broken, and he could do nothing but sweat profusely and defend.

Unlike the earlier disciples of Wudang, Muk Hui-yeong’s sword showed no hesitation. No matter that Wudang’s disciples had intended to let those behind them see the Zhuge Clan’s martial arts, the difference in disposition could not be ignored. Muk Hui-yeong was wielding his sword with genuine intent to kill Zhuge Jun.

“Excellent.”

Cheong-ui said that. Cheong-hwa too had no choice but to nod.

It was that perfect a Flowing Cloud Sword Art. Even his internal energy, which had once been a weakness, seemed to have been compensated for before anyone noticed. Muk Hui-yeong’s sword left nothing to criticize.

Speed, force, variation, momentum. As though he meant to make up all at once for the way Wudang’s people had been pushed back for eight bouts, Muk Hui-yeong drove Zhuge Jun mercilessly.

The faces of the Zhuge Clan people, which had been bright until now, also darkened. By the point a spar had reached this state, they too would know. That this spar belonged to Wudang.

Cruelly, Muk Hui-yeong drove Zhuge Jun all the way to the edge of the training ground and continued swinging his sword. Zhuge Jun’s body was already covered in wounds from the sword that stabbed in unpredictably from within the mist. All of them were shallow wounds, but perhaps because he had bled too much, Zhuge Jun’s eyes began to blur slightly.

Suddenly, an uneasy thought rose in Cheong-ui. Muk Hui-yeong was not cruel by nature. But he was the sort who returned what was given.

If Zhuge Jun used killing blows at the start, Muk Hui-yeong would have had no hesitation in using killing blows in return. In that sense, Muk Hui-yeong was entirely capable of killing Zhuge Jun.

But that would be troublesome. Wudang had already decided from the level of the demands that it would preserve its dignity. That was the obligation of the stronger side.

It already sat poorly enough that the stronger Wudang might win only five to four against the weaker Zhuge Clan. If an accident happened where the opponent was actually killed, then from Wudang’s point of view, this formal match would become one in which there was nothing to gain.

“Hui-yeong!”

Cheong-ui sprang to his feet and shouted.

Muk Hui-yeong’s sword was clearly aiming for the neck of Zhuge Jun, whose figure had begun to waver.

Usually, when people died in sparring, it was because an arm had been cut off and they bled to death, or because their dantian had been destroyed and they died from the shock. To cut off a neck was clear intent.

As everyone had seen, Zhuge Jun had indeed used a killing blow first, but if Muk Hui-yeong killed Zhuge Jun as a result, it was obvious that Muk Hui-yeong would end up bearing the blame.

Without realizing it, Cheong-ui squeezed his eyes shut the moment Muk Hui-yeong’s sword reached Zhuge Jun’s neck.

Along with that, a fierce gale burst out over the training ground. Cheong-ui slowly opened his eyes.

The scene revealed after the mist cleared was that Muk Hui-yeong’s sword had stopped dead just in front of Zhuge Jun’s neck. Zhuge Jun, from blood loss and fear that he truly might die, collapsed on the spot and fainted.

Silence spread. For the Zhuge Clan, it was a silence of bitter resentment. For Wudang, it was stunned surprise. Naturally, everyone had expected Muk Hui-yeong to win, but no one had known he would win so overwhelmingly.

“The winner of the final spar is Young Master Muk Hui-yeong. This formal match is the victory of the Wudang Sect.”

Mok In-hak’s still unsatisfied voice announced the end of the formal match.

Even then, Wudang’s disciples were still glancing around watching one another’s faces. At that moment, Muk Hui-yeong sheathed his sword, then walked back while lifting both hands toward the sky.

“We won, so how about some cheering?”

At the same instant, the cheers of Wudang’s disciples shook Wudang Mountain.