Chapter 12 Nine Dragons Tournament (1)

Chapter 12 Nine Dragons Tournament (1)

“What exactly is easy about it?”

“Is he showing off just because he beat those third-rate scrubs from Shaanxi?”

Was it youthful jealousy?

The late-stage disciples from the small and medium-sized sects within Shaanxi quietly vented their bitterness at Gu Yangji.

But Gu Yangji himself, the very person at the center of it all, was casually fanning himself to ward off the heat.

‘How cute, you little brats.’

If they were jealous, they should just say so.

Trying to pick a fight over trivial matters just to challenge him to a duel was utterly laughable to Gu Yangjeok.

‘What do these greenhorns know? They’ve never even faced a life-or-death duel. With their big mouths, they could beat Dongfang Saku himself.’

Gu Yangjeok lay half-reclined on the boulder, chuckling softly before letting out a long yawn.

“Haah.”

Even teasing the late-stage cultivators, who looked like lumps of flesh, was gradually becoming tedious.

How much longer must he groan under this scorching sun?

Gu Yangji glared fiercely at Xuan Jian Zhenren, the master of the Wudang Sect, who was in the midst of his speech.

“When will this end?”

No matter how softly Gu Yangji spoke, Xuan Jian Zhenren couldn’t possibly miss it.

But he steadfastly continued his speech.

“…Therefore, I hope this Nine Dragons Tournament will allow not only Shaanxi but also other Daoist sects to unite, compete with each other, and move forward, reaffirming the meaning of mutual prosperity.”

At those words, Gu Yangji couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.

Memories from his past life surfaced.

‘Mutual prosperity my ass.’

One hundred out of one hundred, it’s the Martial Alliance.

A gathering of Daoist factions? Even if they assemble, it’s just a conference of old fools spitting venom to protect their own skins.

When the Huashan Sect faced annihilation, what did the other so-called Daoist factions do?

What about the nearby Shaolin, the North Star of Mount Tai?

‘All pointless nonsense.’

Gu Yangjie yawned loudly once more.

In the end, the martial world is solitary.

Broadly speaking, it’s the four schools, including oneself.

No matter how close one had been, if danger loomed, turning a blind eye was practically a martial tradition.

So why bother trying to be friends?

‘I don’t even like them, so why bother lying to befriend them?’

He’d rather curse them than flatter them with insincere praise.

Better to spend that time building strength, washing his feet, or sleeping to nourish his kidneys.

Thus, Gu Yangji adjusted his half-reclined posture to make himself more comfortable.

“Haaah…”

Was this his third yawn?

Now nearly lying flat, Gu Yangjeok shifted his position as those around him murmured.

“Oh, my.”

“How dare he be so rude in the presence of the Revered Sword Master!”

‘Who the hell do you think you are, showing such arrogance before a senior of the Wudang? Well, that’s how it is.’

He knew from the start that arriving backed by his reputation would make the ambitious young upstarts dislike him.

But neither the man himself, Xuan Jian Zhenren, nor Ye Qing from the Wudang faction showed any sign of displeasure.

That’s how martial artists should be.

There was no need for pointless bickering or quarrels over temperament.

Considering the mental energy needed for the Nine Dragon Tournament, they should conserve it now.

Gu Yangjie clicked his tongue, gazing at the hot-blooded late-stage disciples.

“We’ll cross swords at some point anyway, so show some restraint.”

“……”

At his words, the late-stage cultivators shut their mouths tight, as if they’d eaten honey.

Even if they were inexperienced youngsters, they were each the chosen next generation sent by their respective sects.

If they couldn’t grasp the meaning even after being told this much, it would be better for them to pack their bags and leave now.

Moreover, if anyone actually came looking for a fight, Gu Yangji was perfectly willing to accept the challenge.

‘What a waste of time.’

Had the prize here not been the True Spirit, there’d be no reason to get involved in this little brat’s circus.

He’d hoped there might be someone worth sticking around for, but that wasn’t the case either.

‘They didn’t even send out the ones who could be called their sect’s secret weapons. Those sly foxes.’

To Gu Yangji, the Nine Dragon Tournament seemed less a contest between the top disciples of each sect and more a competition among their second-in-commands.

That naturally led to one unavoidable question.

‘I don’t understand why they’d put Chamhyun into a contest of this level.’

Any swordsman would seek a legendary blade.

This desire knew no age, whether youth or elder.

If a sword could make their sword technique even slightly stronger, they would invest considerable time to obtain it.

It was nothing short of a warrior’s instinct.

The Wudang Sect was a school that cultivated not only fist techniques but also lightness skills and sword techniques.

It wasn’t a place lacking the foresight to recognize the value of the True Sword.

Then, Gu Yangji’s questioning gaze landed on one particular man.

‘Ye Qing of the Wudang Sect… He alone is worthy of being counted among Wudang’s top masters.’

Even from afar, his aura radiated undeniable strength.

He would surely be the one to block his path at the very end of the Nine Dragons Tournament.

Sensing his fate, Gu Yangji sat cross-legged on the stone and began refining his Zixia Qi.

“…Huuu.”

His inhalation was shallow, yet the breath he exhaled expelled a torrent of stagnant energy accumulated within his body.

Some of it contained poisonous fumes, causing a Taoist cultivator listening to Xian Jianjinren’s blessing nearby to clasp his nose and retreat.

‘If anyone saw that, they’d think I never wash, damn it.’

Gu Yangji muttered a light curse under his breath as he expelled all the remaining poison with his Zixia Jinqi.

This must be the neurotoxin injected during his battle with Duzheguang.

Gu Yangji’s expression instantly twisted.

“Damn, that stings.”

Soon, Gu Yang-jeok removed his wooden clogs, mixing the neurotoxin with sweat to expel it.

Seeing this, Hyeon Geom-jin raised his eyebrows slightly.

‘I heard from the Open Sect that he defeated the Three Evils of Shaanxi, but to have been poisoned by neurotoxin and still reach here without delay…’

The method of expelling the poison was particularly clever.

Unconsciously, Xian Jianjin stroked his beard and looked up at the sun high in the sky.

‘To use the hot summer weather to sweat out the poison.’

He might not be much now, but in five or six years, he’ll surely grow into a remarkable cultivator.

Lost in thought, Hyun Geomjin suddenly sensed the surrounding silence and glanced around.

All eyes were fixed on him.

Only then did Hyun Geomjin realize he had stopped speaking.

“…May this Nine Dragon Tournament serve as an opportunity for all the Taoist sects of Shaanxi and every late-stage cultivator who participated to make further progress. Thank you.”

Thus, he had inadvertently ended his congratulatory speech early.

* * *

At that moment, heading towards the martial arts arena where the Nine Dragons Tournament was about to begin.

Gu Yangjie frowned upon seeing the man blocking his path.

“Excuse me, please move aside.”

“That was quite impressive earlier.”

Gu Yangjie snorted, expressing his annoyance to the man.

“So, why?”

“…I think I’m older than you.”

At those words, Gu Yangjeok felt a stifling frustration, like he’d bitten into a hard sweet potato.

‘Can’t fellow cultivators even converse freely?’

Perhaps because of that, the words that followed were somewhat barbed.

It annoyed him that, despite being fellow late-stage cultivators, he felt compelled to pay deference simply because the other was older.

“Aren’t you, fellow cultivator, the one blocking the path without even introducing yourself?”

“Ah, true.”

Only then realizing his rudeness, the man scratched the back of his head and said.

“I am Yang Zhixian of the Gongtong Sect.”

“I am Gu Yangjeok of the Huashan Sect. “If I may ask one thing?”

‘It feels too natural for it to be an excuse.’

Yang Zhixian sensed he was being led somewhere.

“Well, if it’s something I can answer, go ahead.”

“Is squinting your natural state? Or did you cultivate special vision skills?”

His tone was a mix of playfulness and irritation.

Yet, at that question, Yang Ji-hyun’s face stiffened slightly.

Though it was half-joking, Gu Yang-jeok was actually taken aback by Yang Ji-hyun’s reaction.

In truth, it was as if the answer had already been given, only without the sound.

‘Should I pretend not to see that expression?’

Seeing the ambiguous look Gu Yang-jeok wore, did Yang Ji-hyun sense something too?

He let out a deep sigh.

“What’s the point of hiding it? It’s just a simple eye technique I learned to compensate for my lack of innate talent. Nothing special.”

“…Nothing special, huh.”

Gu Yangjeok mulled over Yang Jihyeon’s words.

‘Usually, martial artists who make such unnecessary modest claims or squint their eyes tend to be quite strong.’

Yang Zhixian satisfied both criteria.

Then it was necessary to properly assess his opponent.

Gu Yangji cautiously raised his energy and activated the Zhenhui Eye.

“What brings you here?”

“I want to get to know you.”

“Among the second generation disciples of the Gongtong Sect, how strong are you?”

“……At best, I’m average.”

These were questions anyone with decent social skills could answer.

Gu Yangjeok decided to ask something that would stump even someone with good eyesight, someone who wouldn’t be caught by the Zhenhui Eye.

“Do you usually check your email first thing in the morning?”

“Well, that…”

Seeing Yang Jihyeon stumble, Gu Yangjeok inwardly marveled.

‘If he can resist the Zhenhui Eye, he must be quite exceptional…’

Just as Gu Yangjie was about to revise his assessment, Yang Zhihyun spoke.

“I haven’t been able to see well lately.”

“…I hope you recover soon.”

With that, Gu Yangjie subtly slipped away from Yang Zhihyun.

Left alone, Yang Zhihyun clutched his head.

“Why did I say that!”

Due to a beggar lurking nearby, Yang Zhihuan’s nickname began to be called the Unchanging Fist.

A short while later.

Gu Yangji was being held back by another martial artist.

Feeling exhausted, Gu Yangji sighed.

“So this is why they say popularity is tiring.”

“Insolent!”

Grit!

The face of the martial artist, who claimed to be from the Taiping Sword Sect, darkened with displeasure.

“Even if you’re a disciple of Huashan, this is going too far!”

“Going too far? So what do you want to say by standing me up like this?”

“Well, obviously, just now…”

“Hold on.”

Gu Yangjie cut the warrior off mid-sentence, one corner of his mouth curling upward.

“Even the sword master himself, or Ye Qing, the Taoist from Wudang, didn’t say a word to me. Isn’t it rather you, fellow practitioner, who’s overreacting?”

“……”

“Why not just say it plainly? You’re just a weakling who got famous and now your ego’s swollen.”

At those words, the warrior’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“You call that speaking plainly?”

But the warrior couldn’t deny all of Gu Yangjie’s words.

The hostility he felt toward Gu Yangjie clearly included resentment.

‘Gu Yangji, who was said to be not only utterly lacking in martial talent but also had the temperament of a bully, couldn’t possibly have defeated the Three Evils of Shaanxi!’

Could it be that the strange rumors were spread by the Open Sect, mistakenly attributing the defeat of the Shaanxi trio to Gu Yangji, who had merely handled them while passing through?

In that case, it would be best for him, the next successor of the Taiping Sword Sect, to step forward and dispel the misunderstanding.

The warrior adopted the stance of his fist techniques, not his sword, his true specialty.

“This Jin Mo hereby challenges Gu Dou to a duel.”

“No, seriously.”

Gu Yangji’s cheek twitched convulsively.

There was no need for polite words with such a man.

“A single remark warrants a duel? Good grief, I’m flabbergasted. Whether orthodox or heterodox, you’re nothing but a villain at heart, just without a sword.”

“Hey! Where do you think you are? How dare you insult our sect by comparing it to the heterodox!”

The martial artist roared in anger, yet inwardly, he wore a satisfied smile.

‘Seeing him try to avoid the duel proves I was right after all.’

That satisfaction shattered into pieces at the words that followed.

“Draw your sword.”

“……Hm?”

“Draw it when I say something truly worthwhile. I don’t want to see you later making excuses about not showing your true strength because you were spouting nonsense.”

Seeing Gu Yangji look genuinely annoyed, the martial artist felt genuine anger well up inside him.

“Fine. I’ll make you regret your arrogance!”

“Enough. Come quickly.”

Gu Yangji folded one hand behind his back and beckoned to the martial artist with his remaining right hand.

“I’ll show you that even among late-stage cultivators, there are levels of skill.”

“Go!”

A roar of fury erupted from Moo-in’s mouth as immense power enveloped his entire body.

Watching this, Gu Yang-jeok frowned.

Just seeing that gave him a rough idea of Moo-in’s background.

‘He must have been fed some magic potions since childhood and practiced bee-moss meditation. The kid’s breath practically reeks of medicine.’

Of course, that wasn’t inherently bad.

He had poured the wealth and power he possessed as a master into his disciple; how could that be considered unjust?

But the warrior had made a grave mistake.

This error stemmed from his background—he was like a delicate flower that had never experienced any violence.

‘He should have assessed his opponent before charging.’

A late-stage disciple raised in pampering would inevitably make such a mistake.

Far from gauging their opponent’s skill, they arrogantly assume the other is inferior.

Then, the warrior who had drawn his sword spoke.

“Even if you are wounded by my hand, do not resent me too much. This is a personal duel between us.”

‘Useless worry.’

A peculiar smile spread across Gu Yangjeok’s face.

“You’ve drawn your sword, so you should come in. What are you waiting for?”

* * *

Meanwhile, at the unarmed combat ground on the outskirts of Wudang Mountain.

There, late-stage cultivators were warming up, and Wudang cultivators preparing for the Nine Dragon Tournament were present.

Among them, the most conspicuous master was undoubtedly Xian Jianjinren…

His expression had darkened.

“Has participation in the Nine Dragons Tournament ever been this low?”

Hyeon Geom Jin-in counted the number of late-stage cultivators preparing for the martial contest.

It was far, far below the number they had vowed to bring.

Not just one or two, but over ten were missing.

This wasn’t a number that could simply be explained away by getting lost or something similar.

‘Personally, I don’t like it…’

He needed to investigate what had happened.

Most of the missing personnel belonged to small and medium-sized sects, essentially local aristocratic clans, which held considerable influence within their respective regions.

As such, they frequently exchanged letters and messengers among themselves.

Some sects were even related by marriage.

Therefore, major sects like the Wudang or the Gongdong couldn’t ignore the alliance of these smaller sects.

At the very least, they needed to show they were allies.

Thus, the Nine Dragons Tournament was created.

Like nine dragons tangled together to determine supremacy, it was an event where major and minor sects competed without distinction.

As Hyun Geomjin recalled the various faces of the smaller sects, a sudden, unsettling thought struck him.

“Surely not.”

For instance, they might have crushed a top contender to make victory easier.

Considering the political leanings of the aristocratic families that formed their foundation, it wasn’t entirely impossible.

Hyun Geomjin hoped it wasn’t so, yet he immediately fastened his sword to his belt.

Just as he was about to enter the forest, a man appeared.

“There’s no need for that.”

Hyun Geomjin was greatly startled by the man’s appearance.

For the man was precisely the top contender Hyun Geomjin had been thinking of.

‘Judging by those wrinkled robes, they clearly weren’t formed naturally… But his complexion is too pristine for someone who’s been fighting.’

Not even a single drop of sweat glistened on his face.

Looking as if he’d just stepped out for a stroll, Hyun Geom Jin-in barely recalled the man’s name.

“…Gu Yang-jeok of Hwasan, was it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the whereabouts of the other late-stage cultivators?”

At that, Gu Yang-jeok shrugged his shoulders.

“They said they weren’t feeling well and went back.”

“Returned?”

“Yes. It seems he was too nervous ahead of the Nine Dragons Tournament.”

As Gu Yangjeok chatted casually, Hyun Geomjin couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Looks like I failed to make that junior drop out midway.’

He was quite pleased to have excluded the late-stage disciples of minor sects from the Nine Dragons Tournament.

A playful expression flickered across Hyun Geomjin’s face.

“You didn’t tell any lies, did you?”

“Of course not. Who would I lie to?”

Gu Yangji’s smooth, easygoing manner reminded Xian Jianjin of an old acquaintance.

“Heh heh, the way you talk reminds me of that fellow when he was young.”

“Who are you referring to?”

Seeing Gu Yangji genuinely puzzled, Xian Jianjin shook his head.

“If it’s that Jin fellow, he should still be at Huashan…?”

“Jin?”

Gu Yangji recalled every cultivator he knew, but couldn’t place a Jin that Xian Jianjin would recognize.

Seeing this, Xian Jianjin smiled wryly.

“You don’t know? Well… that bastard’s personality is notoriously prickly, after all.”

“What is that person’s name?”

“Never mind. Seeing you don’t know, it seems he doesn’t wish to reveal himself.”

Xian Jianjin seemed somehow reluctant to even mention the man.

“If Dou shows interest, that bastard will make contact first.”

Leaving Gu Yangjie with one lingering question, he stepped onto the center of the unarmed combat arena and shouted.

“Begin the battle!”

With that single command, the curtain rose on the Nine Dragons Grand Tournament.