Sichuan's Mad Dragon (Novel) - Chapter 134 - Combat Method

Chapter 134 – Combat Method

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Translated by Heavenly Cat
Edited by Celestial Knight

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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As Ju-seong and Cho Yu-gyeong had last exchanged words, their quarterfinal match was scheduled.

Of course, the quarterfinals were postponed a full month due to the bloodshed at the North Gate Inn.

Ju-seong and Cho Yu-gyeong’s injuries were part of the reason, but it was also to start stoking wariness and hatred toward the evil path among martial artists.

The story of that bloody night spread through people’s mouths.

“How could they dare intrude into the Martial Alliance’s own front yard and slaughter promising young martial artists!”

“Wait, so what was the Martial Alliance doing?”

“When they investigated later, the patrol leader in charge of that area was found dead.”

“Tsk. Truly an evil affair. What could the reason be?”

“Well, since the young men from the evil path’s territory in the south were trying to excel at the Ascending Dragon Assembly…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Talents who should’ve grown to join evil path sects or at least become their lackeys are instead trying to settle in the north. They must have been annoyed that promising young talents would keep draining away, so they did this as a warning.”

“Hah! What petty, pathetic reasoning! It’s their fault for constantly backstabbing each other in the south. Constantly using dirty tricks and scheming for each other’s lives… no wonder young martial artists see it as dangerous!”

The two gossipmongers were completely off base, but their reasoning did fit the circumstances.

At this Ascending Dragon Assembly, Cho Yu-gyeong had formed the Jiangnan Coalition, allowing many southern martial artists who’d normally struggled to make it far into the main competition.

As a result, quite a few were hired by northern merchant associations or wealthy patrons.

From the southern evil sects’ perspective, young talents from their territory were draining to the north.

“Tsk… Even after something like this happened, the Ascending Dragon Assembly continues as scheduled?”

“That’s why the next quarterfinals have been postponed a full month.”

“Business booms for the merchants with the festival dragging on.”

“By the way, isn’t it interesting? Half of the quarterfinalists aren’t from the Seven Sects and Three Families.”

That was true.

Currently among the quarterfinalists, Ju-seong, Red Beggar, Cho Yu-gyeong, and Fat Fist were all from outside the Seven Sects and Three Families. Though in Fat Fist’s case, he did use Hwangbo family martial arts.

“Who do you think will win between Mad Dragon and Sleeping Dragon in the quarterfinals?”

“Well, that would be…”

* * *

“Whew.”

Unseasonably warm afternoon for late autumn.

Ju-seong had gone alone to a quiet riverside to practice his forms.

Of course, it wasn’t the kind of practice where he simply repeated the forms of the Three Yang Fist. The Three Yang Fist totaled fifteen techniques.

Among those, the first and middle five techniques had been dissolved and broken down until their original forms were almost unrecognizable.

The latter five he hadn’t yet melted down, but his proficiency was sufficient.

Ju-seong moved his limbs so slowly he could yawn. Subtle tension lingered without releasing in every fiber of his muscles.

He reviewed and reviewed the previous fight again. The Taowu disciple. That man was an innate fighter, as if born to battle.

He’d naturally transitioned from saber techniques to kicking, then formed blades from his bare hands when disarmed, while his grappling and wrestling were also formidable.

This meant he’d mastered martial arts across many disciplines.

But what was truly remarkable was how all those varied arts functioned precisely where needed.

So many young martial artists wore down their techniques practicing, only to fail to insert the right technique at the right moment in actual combat and lose.

Stories of hotblooded rising stars boldly charging at evil path gangs or bandits only to lose their lives senselessly came every season.

‘Integrate everything into a single flow.’

He kept splitting the Three Yang Fist techniques into smaller pieces, connecting them. In the process, form crumbled, leaving only flow.

The Taowu disciple had fought exactly like this. There was barely a trace of set techniques in his fighting.

His blade appeared at bizarre angles, carving through space.

The flow from saber arts to palm strikes to grappling to kicks was as natural as if all one thing.

That wasn’t martial arts. It was his own unique combat method.

‘Imitate it.’

Ju-seong closed his eyes and surrendered to the flow.

This was the process of understanding something more primal than martial arts.

The character for ‘martial’ combined ‘stop’ and ‘spear,’ indicating human combat wielding weapons.

But the character for ‘fight’ depicted two people grappling bare-handed… the combat of primordial times when humans were no different from beasts.

Ju-seong didn’t seek to fathom lofty martial philosophy. He lowered and lowered his own level.

To awaken the beast’s perspective.

Movements that had been flowing like water began to halt and jerk. Combat method didn’t consider what looked good.

No need for dance. There was only fighting. The intention to crush and destroy whoever stood before him was what filled Ju-seong’s fingertips.

He felt his upper dantian’s killing intent surging in response.

“Mmm…”

Ju-seong groaned softly at the throbbing headache, then calmed his mind and suppressed the killing intent.

Before he knew it, the halting movements were flowing smoothly again.

Movements that had degraded from human combat to beast struggle regained their level, returning to a martial artist’s technique.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was already slanting westward. The drifting clouds were enticingly toasted orange-pink like ripe fruit in the sunset glow.

Ju-seong realized his martial attire was soaked with sweat and promptly leaped into the river, clothes and all.

-Splash…!

Startled White Pig burst from his chest and fluttered upward.

Ju-seong felt the ice-cold late autumn water cooling his heated head.

He dove and surfaced, pushing back his wet hair.

Having grasped the combat method, his martial arts had advanced a level. His body was in perfect condition, his mind clear.

Ten Thousand Barbarians, Cradle of the Demonic Path. The confusing, troublesome matters were less important than the fight looming before him.

He’d cleared up the misunderstanding about Cho Yu-gyeong, but the fact that he was still a sly, crafty, annoying, and irritating bastard remained unchanged.

Ju-seong was fundamentally a man of foul temperament.

He blamed that Cho bastard for getting stuck with the alias ‘Mad Dragon’ instead of some cooler alias. At least, that’s how Ju-seong saw it.

“If not for that Cho bastard, I could have been Divine Dragon, Crimson Dragon, Fire Dragon, or Jade-Faced Dragon.”

Ju-seong dripped with cold Yangtze water, then gathered all his heroic spirit.

And toward the tranquil Yangtze where not a single fishing boat floated, he roared with all his might.

Nearby minnows fainted and floated to the surface.

Ju-seong muttered with a dangerous smile.

“You’re dead, Sleeping Dragon.”

* * *

Cho Yu-gyeong sat cross-legged in his new inn room, reviewing the fight.

His followers had all been swept away, and the young companions he’d exchanged words with back at his sect had all lost their lives.

Yet Cho Yu-gyeong was angry but not broken.

Win the next match. Make a name. Grow stronger.

Cling desperately to survive, struggle relentlessly upward. That was how he’d maintained his sanity and survived on that mad island in the first place.

No matter how dreadful life was, just struggle and fight.

Sorrow and despair are lies.

‘Only my blood and iron are real.’

That was how Cho Yu-gyeong calmed his heart. He had to focus only on his flesh and the three-foot blade in his hand.

As Cho Yu-gyeong’s mind sank deep and his ragged breathing quieted down…

He recalled not the overall shape of the fight, but the form of the materialized blade aura he’d clearly seen in that instant. The arrangement of internal energy. The compressing force. He’d heard that Blade Aura Materialization glittered like stars… hence the character ‘gang’ meaning star. But the Blade Aura the man had drawn up hadn’t looked quite like that. ‘Probably incomplete Blade Aura. And if he at the same peak level could do it, so can I.’

Cho Yu-gyeong focused on this.

Could he, through a moment of ultimate immersion, overcome the limits of peak level to achieve Blade Energy Materialization?

Obsession.

That was Cho Yu-gyeong’s specialty.

At some point, focusing on just one thing meant everything else ceased to exist in his sight.

That was also how he’d maintained his sanity despite so many around him dying.

‘Just a moment… Just a moment is enough.’

Even if it was only an imitation, if he could even momentarily mimic the principle of Blade Energy Materialization…

A bead of sweat formed on the tip of his nose. He too possessed the genius to deserve being called heaven-sent.

‘Focus. Align, gather, compress.’

Just when the thought ‘Now?’ flashed through his mind…

-Flutter!

Cho Yu-gyeong suddenly unfolded his crossed legs, rose hastily, and drew the sword leaning in the corner.

And very faintly, evenly aligned internal energy appeared along the blade. It immediately unraveled, becoming the wavering sword energy like heat shimmer… but.

A satisfied smile appeared at the corner of Cho Yu-gyeong’s mouth.

“I’m curious to see your startled face, Mad Dragon. Let’s see if you can still run your mouth like last time.”

* * *

The first day of the quarterfinals dawned.

This time, Red Beggar and Fat Fist had their matches on the first day, not Ju-seong.

Red Beggar’s opponent was a Buddhist monk from Shaolin Temple, while Fat Fist faced a Mount Hua Sect swordsman.

First up was Red Beggar.

Sitting in the spectator stands, Ju-seong grinned and propped his chin.

“Chant ‘I’m dead’ for me, beggar.”

Red Beggar’s opponent had been called ‘Golden Dragon’ early in the Ascending Dragon Assembly.

Of course, the Shaolin side had protested that they couldn’t accept such a money-grubbing, frivolous alias, so it was changed.

After all, many gamblers had put money on him hoping the ‘Golden Dragon’ would bring them gold.

“So ‘Vajra Divine Dragon’ it is. My word… A title you’d only give to the future best-under-heaven.”

The Shaolin’s influence was indeed impressive, but his skill was definitely the real deal.

Ju-seong hoped that baldy’s match with Red Beggar would be drawn out as long as possible.

First, so Red Beggar wouldn’t be too embarrassed in front of the audience.

Second, so the gamblers who’d bet on Red Beggar losing in half a segment would eat losses.

Third, so Ju-seong himself could spy at least a little more of his techniques.

“Brother, please just hold out for one segment.”

As Ju-seong earnestly prayed for his message to reach his brother, a familiar presence approached.

“Cho bastard. What brings you to sit over here?”

Cho Yu-gyeong glared at Ju-seong with a surly look, then flopped down into the seat in front of him.

“Huh? Not leaving?”

Ju-seong teased, but Cho Yu-gyeong sat arms crossed, staring only at the arena as if he couldn’t hear a barking dog.

‘Has he lost his mind…?’

Why would he suddenly come sit next to him?

When Ju-seong looked across to where Cho Yu-gyeong had been sitting for previous matches, he understood.

The spectator seating where the Jiangnan Coalition martial artists used to gather noisily was now filled with different people.

Those who’d fawned over Cho Yu-gyeong, calling him ‘leader’ and ‘hero,’ had been wiped out overnight.

Ju-seong narrowed his eyes at the back of Cho Yu-gyeong’s head.

‘So even this guy has human feelings after all.’

In other words, thinking of the dead made it hard to sit in that spot.

And the only person he had even a passing acquaintance with was Ju-seong, their connection being solely through enmity.

Of course, if he wanted, there’d be plenty of people who’d sidle up and flatter him, but he wasn’t in the mood for that sort of attention right now.

Ju-seong let out a small sigh and turned back to the arena. He closed his eyes tightly as golden Buddhist radiance erupted and the beggar was pummeled.

‘Oh dear.’

That was all he could think.