Chapter 46

Dan Woo-sung returned in a remarkably short time, registered for the main event, and departed. The receptionist read his nameplate with a bewildered expression.

“Seven-Step Ascension, Demon-Slaying Blade, Red-Water Prince… Was he weak?”

After finding the nicknames in the roster, he drew a line through them, signifying elimination. No participant had ever passed the preliminaries this quickly before.

As the clerk stared blankly at Dan Woo-sung’s receding back, a colleague beside him asked.

“What’s with you?”

“That guy… seems like a top contender.”

It was because the man who had snatched three nameplates in the blink of an eye wore an utterly serene expression.

“Where?”

When Maeng-won pointed at Danwooseong, his colleague said,

“I don’t know.”

“What would you know? Just take the registration.”

Maeng-won dropped the nameplate labeled “Guest” into the wooden barrel collecting the nameplates of the main contestants.

Since there was nothing at the bottom, it made a thudding sound.

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The nameplates of the main contestants poured out of the wooden barrel with a rumbling sound.

At the lit reception desk, all the judges had gathered.

It was the moment the main tournament bracket was being drawn.

The assistants arrived carrying large situation boards.

The scoreboard featured thin nails arranged in a mountain shape, with fewer nails as you ascended. Naturally, whoever placed their nameplate at the summit would be the winner.

The tournament bracket officially incorporated the organizers’ trickery.

It was somewhat surprising.

However, once you understood the circumstances, it felt slightly different from mere trickery.

Because the bracket was designed solely to keep the strong contenders separated by distance, based on the referees’ discussions and opinions.

First, the referees divided the preliminary qualifiers’ strength into tiers: A, B, and C. They then adjusted the matchups to ensure that two A-tier contenders would not face each other in the first round of the main tournament.

Shortly after, the elderly referee who had declared Dan Woo-sung’s advancement with a hearty voice hung a nameplate reading “Kwon Gak” on the far left of the bracket. This meant he would unconditionally fight in the very first match.

The old referee stated.

“Gwon-gaek is the only Class A among those I’ve judged.”

No one challenged the head referee’s words. Next, the other referees began hanging nameplates representing players of Class A skill onto the bracket, spacing them out. Though occasional debates arose, the bracket was completed smoothly.

As if on cue, someone entered the reception area. Those examining the bracket simultaneously stood at attention.

“Greetings, Lord Myeong!”

Mighty Lord Yoo Jeong-hong nodded as he entered, then stood with his hands behind his back, surveying the bracket.

“Not many finalists, I see.”

Referee Noh replied.

“We even eliminated some who had won three consecutive matches. As you instructed, Lord Myeongju, we weeded out those lacking character.”

Yoo Jeong-hong looked at the old judge and said this.

“Elder Song, has there ever been a case where Sammaeodoga interfered?”

The brash old referee glanced around at the junior referees. When none spoke up, he looked at the leader and said.

“No.”

Yoo Jeong-hong nodded.

“You’ve all worked hard. Let’s proceed with the match schedule like this.”

At that, the referees and Myeongju members applauded in unison, as if a great burden had been lifted.

“Everyone, you’ve worked hard.”

Yoo Jeong-hong paused as he was about to leave the reception desk and said this.

“The Flying Dragon Corps, Cloud Dragon Corps, and White Dragon Corps shall ascertain the positions of the main contestants and assist them to avoid ambushes by subversive elements or becoming entangled in unnecessary conflicts. The elders shall divide and oversee the personnel. Any who harm or cause trouble for the main event participants—whether from prestigious sects or clans—are to be captured and imprisoned in the Brain Prison. Harsh punishment shall serve as an example.”

“Understood.”

“Consider it a disgrace to the Martial Alliance should any finalist be harmed.”

As Chief Yoo Jeong-hong disappeared with his hands behind his back, the referees and members finally breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing they could do—the Chief was a terrifying figure no matter when you saw him.

The stubborn old referee crossed his arms and nodded.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right. Everyone, you’ve all worked hard. I’ll keep an eye on things too.”

Someone said with a smile.

“Elder Song can rest. Aren’t you busy with your research?”

The old judge snorted derisively.

“Nonsense! I’m still in good health—I can’t just sit around eating for free. If elders don’t work and just act all high and mighty, people start thinking strange things. Old folks should lead by example.”

A man said this.

“Elder Song, if you see any shortcomings, please feel free to rebuke me anytime.”

Elder Song frowned.

“If anyone hears that, they’ll think I’m always angry. What’s the point of speaking if there’s no substance?”

A younger elder with white hair chimed in from the other side.

“What are you talking about? You’re always getting angry.”

“You little…”

“You call me that? I’ll be seventy the day after tomorrow. Senior, I’ve heard that ‘this guy, that guy’ nonsense for thirty years—it’s grown old on me.”

“If you feel wronged, you should’ve been born first, you bastard!”

“Does that even make sense?”

Everyone deliberately burst out laughing, skillfully drowning out the stubborn men’s quarrel. One man bellowed in a booming voice.

“Come on, seniors, let’s eat first!”

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Leading his escort on a stroll, Commander Yoo Jeong-hong climbed alone onto the main stage and gazed briefly at the night sky.

Judging by the stars shining densely and brightly, it seemed the weather would be clear and sunny on the day of the main tournament as well.

As Yoo Jeong-hong waved his hand, the guards silently vanished.

Yoo Jeong-hong sat in the seat of honor reserved for the leader, staring blankly at the empty stage.

The memory remained vivid.

He saw the young, shaggy-haired Yoo Jeong-hong who had advanced to the finals, and remembered the triumphant pride he felt after winning. The faces of those he had fought flashed before him, and he recalled the tone of the leader he had feared back then, as well as those who had passed through the Martial Arts Alliance or turned their backs for various reasons.

It was all in the past.

Even then, he hadn’t particularly hated anyone.

He believed they were all righteous cultivators, no matter where they were.

But he himself remained in the Martial Alliance until the very end.

It felt like an incredibly long time, but looking back, it seemed like a mere instant.

Friends gradually disappeared, and only subordinates with whom it was difficult to share my heart increased. As time passed, many of those subordinates also vanished.

Especially during the Great Battle of the Five Ridges, where we fought the Demon Sect, countless lives were lost—too many to count. Those who once sparred on the martial stage vanished, and the horrific scene of the Five Ridges Battle replayed before his eyes.

The screams rang vividly in the leader’s ears.

If asked who bore the greatest guilt in that horrific Battle of the Five Ridges…

Of course, the Demon Sect was guilty, but Yu Jeonghong himself was also a sinner.

Because he was a fierce general, his fierce soldiers also spared no effort.

Yu Jeong-hong’s expression sank.

Wasn’t it right for the strong to fight and the weak to flee? How could those who called themselves warriors wage such a war? In Yoo Jeong-hong’s view, the martial world was sufficient when only the strong gathered to settle their disputes.

Only regret, with no clear answer, remained, leaving him desolate.

Yoo Jeong-hong was not a man prone to such weak musings.

That’s why, gazing at the night sky, this thought occurred to him.

Perhaps this would be the last Dragon-Phoenix Grand Assembly he would ever host.

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“The leader has something to say.”

As the Dragon-Phoenix Grand Gathering commenced, Lord Yu Jeong-hong rose from his seat at the Grand Council.

The crowd packed the area around the martial arts stage. As shouts of his old nickname erupted from all sides, Yoo Jeong-hong raised his hand to quell the awkward cheers and commotion.

Yu Jeong-hong, arms crossed, slowly surveyed the gathered martial arts juniors.

He saw juniors from sects and clans, juniors whose names he didn’t know, juniors from the Galaxy Trading Company, and even a crazy man holding a black umbrella on this sunny day.

Yoo Jeong-hong smiled.

The worried expression that had been lost in thought alone in the dark night was nowhere to be found. He had returned to his usual self—the confident, somewhat arrogant-looking martial arts leader, Yoo Jeong-hong.

“The Dragon-Phoenix Grand Banquet has begun.”

At Yoo Jeong-hong’s words, the room fell silent.

Forty-five years ago, a scruffy-haired youth who borrowed travel money from those around him to attend the Dragon Phoenix Grand Tournament in Shaanxi now stands before you. Back then, the rules of the Dragon Phoenix Grand Tournament were different from today’s. Unlucky ones often met their end. I recall defeating a master from the Sega clan in the first round, and a master from the Golden Blood Sect in the second. Only later did I learn a master from the Black Path had secretly entered the tournament. Back then, winning even one or two rounds was no easy feat. Unlike you amateurs.”

Yu Jeonghong grinned, and smiles spread around the room.

The runner-up who started his life in the Martial Alliance alongside me was Jeon Woong. At the time, Jeon Woong received the Taeseong Sword as a gift, while I received the Suwol Sword. It was an era when champions weren’t typically given anything special, but the Alliance Leader saw to it, and one senior member of the Elders’ Council offered up the Taeseong Sword. How strong could Jeon Woong and I have been back then? Because I received the Water Moon Sword, I couldn’t honestly leave the Martial Alliance even amidst all the troubles that arose. The profound emotion I felt upon receiving the Water Moon Sword made me stronger. My juniors…

“Yes, Lord.”

“The winner of this Dragon-Phoenix Grand Tournament shall receive the Amipa Sect’s century-refined ginseng.”

The participants’ expressions shifted, and many eyes widened. It was a miraculous elixir that could not be obtained even if one desired it. Only by entering the Amipa and becoming the direct disciple of the Grandmaster would one have even the slightest chance of consuming it.

“Consider why the Venerable Master of the Amita Sect would instruct someone to present the Hundred-Year-Pure-Water-Three to an unknown victor. Surely she had enough to give to her own disciples. She merely expressed regret for not being able to attend the Dragon-Phoenix Grand Gathering. To the most outstanding swordsman at this Dragon-Phoenix Grand Gathering, I shall present the Taeseong Sword, which lost its master at the Five Tombs Great Battle.”

Yu Zhenghong pointed his finger toward the heavens.

“My friend in heaven, Jeon Ung, will surely watch with joy. And for the most outstanding swordsman… Did you think I’d give the Water Moon Sword? That won’t do.”

Smiles spread across the crowd, and Yoo Jeong-hong laughed along with them.

“I shall deliver the sword specially crafted by Gu Gacheolbang for this tournament. To elaborate, Gu Gacheolbang is the forge that produced the Unforgettable Sword used by all past Huashan First Swords. They said the one who obtains this new sword should name it themselves. Juniors…”

Yoo Jeong-hong drew the sword from his waist with a sharp slash as he spoke.

The name of this sword, which remains unscathed even after the shaggy-haired youth became a white-haired leader, is Suyue Sword. I have always held upright juniors of the martial world dear and precious throughout my life. For after we depart to the heavens, you must uphold this legacy. The Baeknyeonjeonghwasam, the Taeseongdo, even the sword of the Guga Cheolbang. The reason your seniors give these to you without any conditions is but one.”

As Yoo Jeong-hong held the Suyeol Sword upright, the sunlight streaming down bounced off its blade.

The white-haired martial arts leader, Yoo Jeong-hong, gazed up at the clear blue sky. Speaking in a tone of solemn vow, he addressed the friends, seniors, and juniors watching from somewhere.

“Because we are the White Path.”

ⓒ Yoo Jin-seong

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