A heavy silence hung around the sparring stage.
Cheon Hwain was the foremost disciple of the Mount Hua Sect, a martial prodigy deemed worthy of being counted among the great masters. Having reached the pinnacle of martial arts and mastered various advanced techniques from the Martial Alliance, there was no one present who dared to challenge him lightly.
"Young Hero Tae, come up."
Cheon Hwain’s gaze was fixed on Tae Muryong. It seemed he still harbored resentment from the humiliation he suffered at the banquet hall.
"Very well." Tae Muryong stepped onto the sparring stage without hesitation.
He was already prepared for defeat. However, even if he lost, he wanted to display an honorable performance.
"Let the match begin!"
At Yuk Cheongah’s shout, Tae Muryong drew the iron rake from his waist. Yet Cheon Hwain, with his hands clasped behind his back, spoke with a relaxed expression.
"Make the first move."
"Draw your sword, Young Hero Cheon."
At Tae Muryong’s words, Cheon Hwain raised the corner of his mouth and shook his head.
"If I draw my sword, you won’t be able to execute even a single move."
Tae Muryong bit his lip.
Cheon Hwain’s attitude was arrogant, but it wasn’t mere bravado. The sharp aura emanating from his body already made Tae Muryong feel as though blood was rising in his throat.
"Very well."
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Tae Muryong began spinning his iron rake dazzlingly.
Ordinarily, an iron rake typically had five or six teeth, but the iron rake of the Azure Death Sect were equipped with ten razor-sharp teeth. Each tooth unleashed a distinct, piercing energy, launching a relentless chain of attacks.
"Hah!" With a spirited shout, Tae Muryong executed the Three Lakes, Four Directions technique.
It was impossible to unleash a lethal move against an opponent who hadn’t even drawn their weapon. Thus, he began with the intimidating Three Lakes, Four Directions stance, planning to follow with the ultimate technique, Thousand Strategies, Hundred Plans, to unleash a continuous assault.
"Hmph." But with a short scoff, Cheon Hwain instantly closed the distance, advancing right to Tae Muryong’s face.
'What?'
Tae Muryong was utterly shocked, unprepared for Cheon Hwain to pierce through the shadow of his fiercely spinning blades and close the gap in an instant.
At that moment, a white light erupted from Cheon Hwain’s palms.
It wasn’t a technique of the Mount Hua Sect but rather the Radiant True Palm technique, taught to him by the Martial Alliance.
Boom!
The Radiant True Palm was composed of simple moves. Yet each move could carry immense internal energy and be unleashed with incredible speed.
In his panic, Tae Muryong swung his iron rake widely, attempting to dispel the palm’s force.
Crash! Ssssssh!
But as the blades collided with the palm’s energy, a deafening explosion rang out, and Tae Muryong was pushed out of the sparring stage. Cheon Hwain had poured all his internal energy into that single palm strike, and Tae Muryong, unable to withstand it, was sent flying.
"This match goes to Young Hero Cheon!"
At Yuk Cheongah’s declaration, Tae Muryong, climbing back onto the stage, shouted loudly.
"What do you mean? I can still fight!"
He felt deeply wronged. It was only because his internal energy was lacking that he was overwhelmed by the torrent of power.
If they fought a true match, even if he lost in the end, he could have at least engaged in a fierce exchange.
To stop the match without even letting him fight properly?
"Young Hero Tae," Yuk Cheongah said firmly, "as I’ve said, this isn’t a life-or-death duel but a test to judge the level of martial prowess."
Her tone was resolute.
"This match is over. Please return to your seat." At her words, not only Tae Muryong but all the other contestants waiting for their turn stiffened.
If the match was stopped at the point of determining martial superiority, who could possibly stand against Cheon Hwain?
They’d likely be defeated in a single move.
Murmurs of discontent filled the arena. Yet no one stepped forward to challenge Cheon Hwain, and in the end, he advanced to the finals with ease.
"Is there no one else to challenge?"
Swish!
At that moment, a man in ornate silk robes stepped onto the sparring stage.
It was Bu Eunseol.
"Seon Woojin of the Sunflower Merchant Guild."
Whoosh!
As if waiting for this moment, a man wearing distinctive gauntlets on his fists leapt onto the stage.
"Jo Inwung of the Danak Fist Sect."
Jo Inwung, his eyes gleaming, assumed a stance.
Bu Eunseol lowered his posture and faced him.
As both prepared for the duel, Yuk Cheongah didn’t delay.
"Let the match begin!" With her shout, a powerful shockwave erupted from Jo Inwung’s body.
Simultaneously, a sharp gust of wind surged toward Bu Eunseol’s face.
Ooooh.
Gasps of awe rose from the crowd around the stage.
He hadn’t even unleashed a fist technique yet, merely assuming a stance, but already exuded such overwhelming presence?
If he were to execute his fist technique, wouldn’t it unleash a power devastating enough to shatter mountains?
'The Danak True Fist.'
Bu Eunseol gave a wry smile. He instantly recognized the fist technique Jo Inwung was about to use.
The Danak True Fist.
At its peak, it was said to produce a fist aura capable of toppling Mount Tai.
However, it was notoriously difficult to master, and its techniques were limited by the practitioner’s level of internal energy. As a result, despite its formidable techniques, the Danak Fist Sect’s influence had been waning.
But Jo Inwung, with his exceptional talent and refined internal energy, had mastered the Danak True Fist to over eighty percent.
He aimed to become a grandmaster of the Martial Alliance and restore the Danak Fist Sect’s honor.
"Be careful," Jo Inwung said, exuding tremendous aura toward Bu Eunseol. "There are no eyes on my fists."
Instead of responding, Bu Eunseol gave a faint smile.
Step, step.
Suddenly, he began walking slowly toward Jo Inwung, extending a finger toward his chest.
Flinch.
Yet Jo Inwung stood motionless, his eyes wide open.
'Why isn’t he dodging?'
The onlookers wore puzzled expressions.
Why was Jo Inwung, despite his terrifying aura, not unleashing his fist technique as his opponent approached?
Tap.
Finally, Bu Eunseol’s finger touched a pressure point near Jo Inwung’s chest.
"Do you concede defeat?" If Bu Eunseol had infused energy into his finger, Jo Inwung would have suffered a severe injury.
Tremble.
Jo Inwung shook, caught in a dilemma.
But with his opponent’s finger already touching his body, no matter what he did, he was as good as defeated.
"I’ve lost." With a humiliated expression, Jo Inwung clasped his hands and hurriedly left the stage.
'How could this be?'
The spectators gasped, mouths agape.
Jo Inwung’s stance had been so formidable, it seemed to split the heavens and shatter the earth. Moreover, he was a renowned master in the Haeju region, an undefeated fist warrior. Yet he froze, unable to evade the finger of Bu Eunseol, who had calmly walked toward him?
Could it be that Bu Eunseol’s martial arts had reached a divine realm, suppressing Jo Inwung’s pressure points with mere presence?
'I feel a bit bad for him.' Watching Jo Inwung hurriedly leave the stage, Bu Eunseol clicked his tongue. 'But this should teach him the weakness of the Breaking Wave Danak Technique.'
The reason he could subdue Jo Inwung in just half a move wasn’t only because of his superior martial arts but because he had perfectly mastered the Danak True Fist himself. After all, the Danak True Fist was among the secret manuals in the Martial Emperor’s Vault.
'The Breaking Wave Danak Technique must never be used in real combat.'
The Breaking Wave Danak Technique was the most powerful move of the Danak True Fist, but its preparation required an excessively long buildup of energy. To mask this weakness, it incorporated a stance that radiated overwhelming presence.
But Bu Eunseol, already aware of the technique’s flaw, wasn’t swayed by the intimidating stance and calmly extended his hand to subdue his opponent.
It wasn’t to humiliate Jo Inwung but to teach him that the Breaking Wave Danak Technique should never be used in actual combat.
"He knew the technique and seized the initiative." Yuk Jangcheon, watching from the stands, nodded.
He immediately recognized that Bu Eunseol didn’t use extraordinary martial arts but instead exploited the weakness in Jo Inwung’s fist technique to subdue him.
"Is there another challenger?" At Yuk Cheongah’s shout, a tall, gaunt man leapt onto the stage.
"I am Hae Jangcheong."
As his name rang out, gasps erupted from the crowd.
The Swift Blade, Hae Jangcheong.
He was a renowned master of the swift sword in Shaanxi.
Though he had only emerged in the martial world a year ago, he had already fought thirty duels against Shaanxi’s masters.
And he had always won with a single strike.
Little was known about Hae Jangcheong’s sect, only that he was a master of the swift sword. But his invitation to the Heroes' Conference suggested he was a disciple of an orthodox sect.
"Let the match begin!"
At Yuk Cheongah’s shout, Hae Jangcheong extended his hand.
"Make the first move." His gaze was sharp and piercing.
Bu Eunseol nodded.
"Very well."
Swish!
Bu Eunseol lightly unfurled his fan, covering his face.
Hae Jangcheong assumed a stance and waited, but even after some time, Bu Eunseol showed no sign of attacking. Finally, growing impatient, Hae Jangcheong furrowed his brow.
"Are you forfeiting the match?" At his words, Yuk Cheongah stepped forward.
"Young Hero Hae, you’ve lost."
"What are you talking about?"
Yuk Cheongah pointed to Hae Jangcheong’s sleeve instead of answering.
Puzzled, he looked down.
"What?" Hae Jangcheong’s eyes widened.
His sleeve had been cleanly sliced into two pieces.
"When did this happen?"
"When you yielded the first move, Young Hero Seon hid his face with his fan and threw a hidden blade. But you didn’t notice."
Hae Jangcheong’s eyes widened further. He had only seen the fan covering Bu Eunseol’s face. When had he thrown a hidden blade?
"This is trickery!" Hae Jangcheong bit his lip. "Throwing a hidden blade while pretending to cover your face with a fan? How is this the conduct of an upright martial artist?"
"Young Hero Hae," Yuk Cheongah said, her eyes laced with disdain. "The art of hidden blades is meant to be unpredictable, striking suddenly. The fact that you only saw the fan means you completely failed to detect Young Hero Seon’s technique."
Her voice grew colder.
"If Young Hero Seon had aimed for your throat, you’d already be dead. Would you still call it trickery then?"
Tremble.
Hae Jangcheong shook slightly, then turned away with a humiliated expression.
"I’ve lost."
He slowly walked off the stage.
'This isn’t exactly enjoyable.'
Watching Hae Jangcheong leave with slumped shoulders like a failed scholar, Bu Eunseol felt a pang of guilt. Despite being called the Heroes' Conference, it was ultimately a gathering of promising young martial artists.
But Bu Eunseol was one of the Seven Kings of Death, a new-generation grandmaster. In terms of skill, he should be facing the likes of Jang Wang or Yuk Jangcheon in the stands, not these young fighters.
Fighting them felt like an adult bullying children.
"Are there no other challengers?" When no one stepped up after some time, Yuk Cheongah shouted. "Young Hero Seon, you’ve passed the preliminaries."
Bu Eunseol clasped his hands lightly and stepped down from the stage.
"He may not have extraordinary martial arts, but he’s skilled in combat. He remains utterly calm, without a hint of tension." Watching Bu Eunseol descend, Yuk Jangcheon spoke to Gu Injeong with an admiring expression. "Moreover, his technique of secretly throwing hidden blades is unparalleled in the martial world."
"He’s dealt with countless bandit hordes, so it’s only natural," Gu Injeong replied, his tone tinged with displeasure. "But calmness and skill only work against opponents of similar level."
"Hmm." Yuk Jangcheon let out a sound of agreement. "True, he’s faced rather weak opponents so far."
In the first match, Jo Inwung tried to unleash a trump card but suffered an absurd defeat. The second opponent, Hae Jangcheong, arrogantly yielded the first move and fell to a clever trick.
Neither had truly displayed their martial prowess.
"Well, we’ll see as it continues," Yuk Jangcheon said, nodding as he resumed watching the matches.
The Heroes' Conference wasn’t a public event, and its purpose was closer to selecting third-rank grandmasters for the Martial Alliance. Thus, if the difference in skill was clear, the match was stopped before a decisive outcome.
As a result, the preliminary rounds, which would typically take days, ended in less than half a day.
"Now, the finals will begin."
As it wasn’t a typical sparring tournament, the proceedings moved swiftly.
Due to the rule of stopping matches once martial prowess was evident, there were no desperate battles, only peaceful and somewhat monotonous duels.
Bu Eunseol continued to dominate in the finals.
Occasionally, he faced unexpectedly skilled opponents, but to him, they were merely clever children.
'His combat sense is exceptional, handling everything with calm and composure.'
That was the demeanor Bu Eunseol had crafted for Seon Woojin.
Having dealt with countless bandit hordes, he emphasized rich combat experience and adaptability. With his calm demeanor, he displayed power beyond his techniques, presenting the image of a rising star. After numerous matches, two individuals reached the final round.
Seon Woojin versus Cheon Hwain.
These two would face off in the finals.
"Young Hero Seon, Young Hero Cheon, please step onto the stage."
The final match was also swift.
The last duel to select the Martial Alliance’s new grandmaster was about to begin.
Swish.
As Bu Eunseol lightly used his movement technique to ascend the stage, he saw Cheon Hwain standing tall.
"I look forward to a good match." Bu Eunseol bowed politely, but Cheon Hwain merely clasped his hands without a word.
This wasn’t a typical tournament but a competition for the grandmaster position, so he saw no need for pleasantries or camaraderie.
"If you’re a merchant, why not stick to counting coins?" Cheon Hwain’s cold voice transmission rang in Bu Eunseol’s ears. "Don’t climb a tree you can’t handle and get yourself hurt."
Bu Eunseol responded with a faint smile.
Cheon Hwain’s mood soured.
That smile was far too calm and composed.
'This pup doesn’t know the tiger’s strength.'
He had closely observed Bu Eunseol’s fights.
Skilled in combat and flashy with techniques, he won through finesse, but his martial arts didn’t seem superior to Cheon Hwain’s. Moreover, his true weapon wasn’t the fan but the hidden blades launched from his sleeves. Given the nature of hidden blade techniques, meant to silence enemies in a single strike, the confined space of the sparring stage was highly disadvantageous.
"Let the match begin!"
At Yuk Cheongah’s shout, both stood motionless.
Shing.
As Cheon Hwain drew his sword, a sharp wave of energy began to emanate from him. The air around the stage grew cold and heavy, as if a chilling, lethal wind was blowing.
But Bu Eunseol didn’t look at Cheon Hwain’s face—he stared at his hands.
The Mount Hua Sect’s swordsmanship was the most agile and sharp among orthodox styles, with techniques that struck unpredictably.
A lapse in focus could cost him his head before he even realized it. Of course, with Bu Eunseol’s true skill, he didn’t need to watch his hands.
'He knows a lot about our sect’s swordsmanship.' Cheon Hwain’s lips curled slightly as he noticed Bu Eunseol staring intently at his hands.
'But he shouldn’t forget I’m a great master.'
In that instant, Cheon Hwain’s right hand flashed. His longsword, already drawn, shot toward Bu Eunseol’s chest with explosive speed.
Whoosh.
Bu Eunseol, as if unable to counter the sharp technique, quickly stepped back a full jang (about 3 meters).
But Cheon Hwain stuck to him like a ghost, unleashing a barrage of sharp sword strikes.
Flash! Flash!
Brilliant light accompanied the chilling sword winds that grazed Bu Eunseol’s sides.
It wasn’t Mount Hua swordsmanship but the Seven Ultimate Sword Forms, taught to him by the Martial Alliance.
'Been a while since I’ve seen this.'
Seeing the sharp sword strikes, Bu Eunseol felt a faint nostalgia stir within him.
The Seven Ultimate Sword Forms.
Wasn’t this the Martial Alliance’s swordsmanship that Young Jiwi, a great master of the Jeomchang Sect, had used against him at the Jeongmu Tournament?
Hup.
Knowing the sharpness of the Seven Ultimate Sword Forms, Bu Eunseol swiftly leaped into the air, dodging the incoming sword energies.
Swish!
At the same time, a sharp gleam flashed from his sleeve as two hidden blades shot toward Cheon Hwain’s forehead and lower abdomen.
Clang!
Cheon Hwain deflected the blades with his sword, and Bu Eunseol landed safely back on the stage. With a simple yet ingenious maneuver, he had interrupted the relentless flow of the Seven Ultimate Sword Forms.
'This guy.' Cheon Hwain raised an eyebrow, surprised that Bu Eunseol had so easily countered the Seven Ultimate Sword Forms.
'He’s really going for it.'
His original plan was to dominate the tournament with overwhelming martial prowess, silencing any criticism about the biased grandmaster selection. But if he engaged in a fierce struggle with this unknown merchant heir, it could lead to gossip and disgrace him before Elder Gu, who had supported this event.
'I can’t drag this out!'
Cheon Hwain raised his sword high, channeling his internal energy.
He intended to end the match swiftly with his signature technique, the Dark Fragrance Shadow Sword.
'How dare he!'
A flash of light gleamed in Bu Eunseol’s eyes.
To think he’d use the swordsmanship that had crippled Yeong Munho right in front of him.
His chest burned like a furnace, and an uncontrollable killing intent surged within him.
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