Chapter 135 – As a Martial Artist Should

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Translated by Heavenly Cat
Edited by Celestial Knight

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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All martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin.

The progenitor of Central Plains martial arts.

The greatest talent born from that place.

Ju-seong really wanted some jerky to chew on right about now.

‘He’s really pounding him good.’

Over there, a beggar was getting beaten like laundry. Even Red Beggar, who never washed, might shed some grime after getting beaten that much.

-Boom! Boom!

The Hundred-Step Divine Fist, one of Shaolin’s Seventy-Two Consummate Arts, pummeled Red Beggar’s body.

Red Beggar barely blocked one strike with his bamboo staff, but couldn’t block the follow-up.

Ju-seong stroked his chin and let out an impressed sound.

‘Striking Bull Beyond Mountain…’

Strike the bull through the mountain.

As the name implied, a technique for striking a target through a medium like water or a wall.

That bald monk was using the air itself as a medium to transmit his strikes to Red Beggar. This was on a different level from shooting sword energy or palm force. Being able to strike from far away was the same in theory, but simply shooting out internal energy versus having a physical strike connect over there were entirely different things.

Ju-seong observed the match with eyes nearly popping, but had to give up without gaining much.

‘Well, that was never going to work.’

It was obvious. If you could imitate Shaolin’s Seventy-Two Consummate Arts just by watching, would Shaolin even be called the progenitor of the martial world?

There was no twist. Red Beggar lost cleanly, apparently just aiming to exchange as many moves as possible with the Vajra Divine Dragon.

The Vajra Divine Dragon also seemed to be annoyingly nice… when he saw potential and good character, he dragged out a fight he could have ended quickly to try to teach.

Naturally, his matches were unpopular since the outcome was obvious and there was no excitement.

Of course, no spectator was bold enough to jeer at a man called Shaolin’s greatest genius.

Ju-seong felt a little sorry for Vajra Divine Dragon.

‘Tsk tsk, when I step up there everyone goes crazy screaming till their throats give out.’

About forty percent were jeers, thirty percent were just excited howling, and only thirty percent was actual cheering… but still.

Ju-seong resolved to show mercy as a popular competitor. He raised his voice to shout.

“Long live the Vajra Fist King! Hundred-Step Divine Dragon, Shaolin talent, martial prodigy, hero! My goodness, what a riveting match! Cho bastard, can you see that sterling skill?”

“H-have you lost your mind? Why the sudden outburst?”

Cho Yu-gyeong stammered in surprise. He looked around frantically, then moved down a tier to sit away from Ju-seong.

Bai Li, who had been quietly sitting beside Ju-seong, also gradually scooted her behind away.

Ju-seong kept shouting regardless.

“Yes! What a clean kick that was, Baldy Hero! That beggar last washed two years ago in Yunnan! Please beat the living daylights out of him! Ah, wonderful!”

Die, beggar.

Since he was shouting like this, the already quiet audience was completely filled by Ju-seong’s voice.

A while later.

“The winner is Won-gong of Shaolin Temple on Mount Song!”

So Vajra Divine Dragon’s Buddhist name was Won-gong.

Ju-seong definitely noticed Won-gong’s ears flushing red as he left the arena after the match.

‘This is the first stone in the battle. We might meet in the finals, so better shake his mind now.’

Ju-seong had resolved to use any means necessary. As a man, he had to aim for first place… no second-guessing about that.

He’d use even such underhanded tactics to defeat that baldy.

* * *

While Ju-seong was admiring his own cunning, the next match began.

Fat Fist versus the Mount Hua Sect disciple.

Before a few exchanges had even passed, Ju-seong’s brow furrowed.

“That…”

The Mount Hua Sect disciple was blatantly toying with Fat Fist.

Truthfully, Fat Fist was clearly the weakest among the quarterfinalists. Though his talent was certainly top-tier across the Central Plains for his age given his remarkable achievement…

‘He’s weak compared to monsters like the other quarterfinalists.’

Based purely on skill, he should have slipped up in the Round of 32 or 16.

He’d advanced to the quarterfinals due to lucky matchups and martial arts advantages against his Hwangbo family opponent.

That luck seemed to have run out now.

“It’s right that he loses now, but…”

Weren’t there different kinds of defeats?

Whether you fell in the quarterfinals or Round of 16, leaving the impression of ‘lost but fought well’ in the jianghu people’s minds was important.

Martial artists would remember the rising star by the performance in their final match.

In that sense, Fat Fist was losing miserably.

It wasn’t just overwhelming skill difference.

They weren’t giving him a chance to unleash any finishing moves or complete any techniques. Every movement was cut off and blocked midway.

Fat Fist couldn’t even fire a single burst of fist energy satisfactorily.

“As if all his intentions are being read and everything is blocked.”

“Unless you knew all the opponent’s martial arts beforehand…”

Cho Yu-gyeong murmured, and Ju-seong nodded in agreement.

“Strangely so…”

That’s when it happened.

-Thud!

Fat Fist’s arms were knocked apart by the Mount Hua swordsman’s blade face.

And into Fat Fist’s wide-open face, the swordsman’s bare fist drove in. Literally a bare fist. No martial subtlety, just an attack thrown from a position of complete dominance, toying with his opponent.

Just watching him move, he’d clearly never trained in fist arts in his life.

Ju-seong propped his chin and muttered nonchalantly.

“Ugh, how harsh… Not that he was particularly handsome to begin with.”

Cho Yu-gyeong, sitting ahead, looked at Ju-seong as if seeing a beast. His friend was getting beaten that badly and instead of getting angry, he mocked?

But looking again, Cho Yu-gyeong felt an involuntary chill and absently rubbed the back of his neck.

‘What was that?’

Just looking into that Mad Dragon fool’s dark pupils made him feel like he was placed before a huge venomous snake.

Ju-seong slowly spoke, calling out to Cho Yu-gyeong.

“Cho bastard.”

Cho Yu-gyeong answered a beat late.

“…What do you want?”

“What’s that Mount Hua fellow’s name?”

“I heard it’s Jang Hwa-rin.”

“Jang Hwa-rin.”

‘Fiery scales. His mother must have dreamed of dragons.’

True to his name, the Mount Hua’s red sword energy scattered like dragon scales, toying with Fat Fist.

More seriously, what was wrecking Fat Fist’s body wasn’t swordsmanship.

Every move Fat Fist tried using Hwangbo family martial arts was blocked by Mount Hua’s lofty swordplay, but…

-Thwack!

A casually kicked foot struck Fat Fist’s shin.

-Slap!

The blade face swung without internal energy slapped Fat Fist’s cheek.

Jang Hwa-rin was deliberately using martial arts only to neutralize his opponent, while inflicting real damage through street fighting. Clearly trying to make his opponent look as pathetic and foolish as possible.

Then he knocked away a fist strike with swordsmanship, struck the bridge of his nose with the pommel while tripping him from behind.

“Really, why go that far… It’s unsightly to watch.”

Bai Li beside Ju-seong frowned her pretty brows and murmured. Ju-seong nodded in agreement.

“A total piece of garbage, that’s all that can be said.”

Meanwhile, Fat Fist still had life in his eyes, apparently trying to land at least one blow on Jang Hwa-rin.

-Grit.

Others couldn’t hear it, but Ju-seong heard Jang Hwa-rin grinding his teeth. And the soft words that followed.

“Lowborn bastard of a bastard… Why are there so many trash at this Ascending Dragon Assembly?”

Ju-seong’s eyebrow twitched.

‘They’re all in it together.’

He knew instinctively. Non-mainstream martial artists who were standing out too much at the Ascending Dragon Assembly.

Some of the Seven Sects and Three Families rising stars with rotten attitudes were targeting the non-mainstream martial artists.

Ju-seong had been the first victim of that.

‘Come to think of it, that guy was brutally humiliating when he beat Hwangbo Ok too.’

Hwangbo Ok was the man from a branch line of the Hwangbo family Ju-seong had met on his way to Anqing.

Though he couldn’t even last a few exchanges against Ju-seong, he had skill.

Looking at it now, those fellows were annoyed even by branch and lay lineages of the Seven Sects and Three Families standing out.

‘Those on top always resent those climbing up from below…’

Natural enough. When people without distinguished backing got attention and showed their martial prowess, it rubbed them the wrong way.

All the Seven Sects and Three Families competitors Ju-seong had beaten so far had shown that attitude.

But if you feared those climbing up from below, you should whip yourself to climb higher.

‘Because you’re a martial artist.’

This sense of fair play didn’t suit an emperor governing the realm or a merchant running a trading company.

But for lunatics who’d staked their lives on clenched fists or blades in their hands, at least that much stubbornness was necessary.

If those beneath me are catching up…

Instead of kicking at their hands and feet, climb higher.

Ju-seong narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned back.

“Young lady, can you see it?”

The sudden question made Bai Li nod.

“Yes. He’s quite wicked.”

“No, I meant can you see that fear.”

“Pardon?”

“Because he’s so afraid, he’s trampling that hard. To the point his nose is beading with sweat. Getting insulted, useless fool… With just a sword and two balls, being that scared of so much, he’ll never make it big in jianghu. I’m saying.”

Ju-seong’s voice had risen slightly without his realizing.

As it happened, the audience was solemn due to the excessively vicious match, so Ju-seong’s words again echoed clearly to the arena.

“Huh. Why is this echoing.”

Ju-seong startled and looked around, then down at the arena.

Sure enough, Jang Hwa-rin had heard and turned to look at him. Ju-seong met his eyes without backing down.

“Watch the front, moron.”

At Ju-seong’s bold demeanor, Jang Hwa-rin twisted his lips into a smile.

A murderous smile hard to believe came from a Taoist sect member. Then again, Mount Hua was more a sword sect than a Taoist one.

And that swordsman didn’t use a sword to the very end.

Jang Hwa-rin kicked out Fat Fist’s legs to force him to his knees, then…

-KWANG!

With hands clasped behind his back, he struck Fat Fist’s cheek with the inside of his foot and sent him flying off the arena.

-Thud thud thud…

Fat Fist’s small form flew, leaving a trail of blood and white teeth.

As if saying it was Ju-seong’s fault for what he said that made him destroy Fat Fist so thoroughly.

“That crazy…”

Cho Yu-gyeong let out a ‘hah’ and muttered in disbelief. How could anyone act so cruelly on the arena the orthodox sects held sacred?

Even Cho Yu-gyeong, a dark path man, hadn’t done such things. Rather, fearing suspicion, he’d fought even more heroically and openly.

The judge announced the winner reluctantly, then stopped.

“The w-winner is Mount Hua’s Jang Hwa… Martial Alliance Leader?”

A startled voice.

In the blink of an eye, the Martial Alliance Leader had leaped down to stand on the arena, looking down at Jang Hwa-rin with emotionless eyes.

Jang Hwa-rin, who’d been about to step off the arena, froze solid the moment he received the Martial Alliance Leader’s gaze.

“Jang Hwa-rin.”

A heavy, pressing voice echoed.

Jang Hwa-rin felt his guts drop and his thigh bones threatening to slip off his knees.

“…Martial Alliance Leader.”

He instinctively lowered his head… like a young wolf baring its neck before the pack leader.

The Martial Alliance Leader spoke in a low, resonant voice.

“If a match like this happens one more time, I will cut off your master’s arm.”

The Martial Alliance Leader’s declaration plunged the entire arena into an eerie stillness.

Not the perpetrator himself, but his master’s arm?

Could there be a more humiliating warning to crush someone?

Who was Jang Hwa-rin’s master? Unknown, but since he was a second-generation disciple, his master was at minimum a first-generation Mount Hua disciple.

A first-generation Mount Hua disciple would be in their forties by now, an age to help run the sect.

Perhaps, being exceptionally talented, he’d entered as the direct disciple of an elder. Mount Hua had no Buddhist-style dharma names, so there was no telling.

Ju-seong thought to himself.

‘So that’s the kind of man Blade King Yelu Cho is.’

Look. Not a single protest was coming from the section where the Mount Hua martial artists were gathered.

Of course they knew their disciple had done wrong, but even so, for someone to threaten to cut off a senior member’s arm and get no objection…

Simply because he was the Martial Alliance Leader? No. Previous Martial Alliance Leaders hadn’t all been absolute powers in jianghu.

It was simply that this man himself held that much strength and authority.

Ju-seong grinned.

‘Truly magnificent.’

As a martial artist… no, regardless of gender… this was what was right.

Jang Hwa-rin left the arena trembling, and the Martial Alliance Leader floated back up to the spectator stands as if nothing had happened.

Feeling a bit cooler-headed now, Ju-seong patted Cho Yu-gyeong’s shoulder.

“What?”

When Cho Yu-gyeong turned around irritably, Ju-seong said with a smirk.

“Sorry, but I have to win tomorrow.”

“…What?”

“To cripple that bastard’s legs.”