Chapter 13 Nine Dragons Grand Tournament (2)

Chapter 13 Nine Dragons Grand Tournament (2)

* * *

“Haah…”

Gu Yangjeok’s mouth gaped wide.

It had been one hour since the Nine Dragons Tournament began.

A total of thirty-four duels had been fought, with that many late-stage cultivators vying for supremacy.

A contest where late-stage cultivators fought for their sect’s honor!

A place where young blood battled each other for supremacy!

Even now, duels raged fiercely upon the battlefield.

“Haah!”

“Behold the true essence of the Heaven’s Peak Sword!”

Clang, clang!

Sparks flew as fist armor and blade collided, the swordsman charging forward fiercely as if to devour the sparks.

Clang, thud!

The martial arts techniques exchanged in an instant pushed them apart, creating a stalemate.

They exhaled briefly, catching their breath, then focused their minds, preparing for the next strike.

The warriors watching from the sidelines were equally intense.

Knowing that one day, this opponent might be their own.

They scrutinized each other more meticulously than anyone, searching for any possible vulnerable points.

The fighters, and the observers.

Neither wasted a moment, each yearning to become the victor of the Nine Dragons Tournament.

But only one person.

Only Gu Yangjeok harbored a different emotion.

‘Good grief, you shouldn’t swing a sword like that!’

He stubbornly endured the urge to nitpick every single move.

Did the foreman feel this way when he saw a laborer awkwardly carrying a load? Frustration boiled up inside Gu Yangjeok.

‘This is exactly why I feel like a complete old man.’

Tiiiiing!

Watching the sword instantly bend like a piece of taffy under the fist guard, Gu Yangjeok inwardly cursed the swordsman.

‘Damn it, did he really call that a defensive move?’

If anyone heard these thoughts, they’d likely scold him for being overly critical, especially since he was only a late-stage cultivator himself.

But that criticism would be half-true and half-false.

The so-called Late-Stage Jisu here were merely at the very beginning of the first tier. They were only at the stage where they could ‘overlay’ sword energy using elixir power.

And Gu Yangjeok now?

While his physical body and internal energy were lacking, the insights he possessed from his previous life alone were enough to reach the realm of the absolute.

What would their martial arts even be to such a Gu Yangji?

The sigh Gu Yangji let out was particularly dry and hollow.

‘I’d rather watch the sword dance performed by the dancers, ugh. What is that?’

At that moment, the Taoist master on the martial arts platform shouted loudly.

“Disciple of Huashan, Gu Yangji, come up onto the martial arts platform!”

“Yes, yes.”

No one had ever called him out before. Which late-stage disciple was summoning him?

‘I hope it’s someone who actually trained their martial arts properly, not just relying on potions.’

Gu Yangji scratched his ear with one hand as he stepped onto the martial arts platform.

Seeing the man who followed him up, a faint smile touched Gu Yangji’s face.

“So it was you after all?”

“…….”

At those words, the late-stage cultivator from the Joint Sect, Yang Zhixian, bit his lip hard.

‘I’ll repay the humiliation I just suffered!’

But he didn’t know.

He didn’t know why Gu Yangji hadn’t been called out before; arriving late to the arena, he simply hadn’t seen it.

At the same time, that had been an opportunity for others.

” “So Gu Yang-jeok was finally nominated?”

“Who?”

“If it’s Yang Ji-hyeon of the Joint Sect… this Nine Dragon Tournament was your first, right?”

Though the number of unarmed combatants was nearly ten, the attention focused here was hotter than that of all the other unarmed combatants combined.

As the sudden focus of all eyes fell on her, Yang Ji-hyeon glanced back at Gu Yang-jeok with a slightly flustered expression.

“Did something happen to you?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Oh, right? I must have imagined it…”

Gu Yangji smiled faintly and replied.

“I merely twisted the legs of ten people.”

‘He must be joking, right?’

Yang Zhihui’s cheek twitched. But the atmosphere around them felt too tense to dismiss it as a lie.

She even heard whispers near her ear.

“Seeing him today, that rumor about him defeating the Three Evils of Shaanxi doesn’t seem like an empty claim.”

“…Looks like the Joint Sect is going to lose, huh?”

They had already tentatively predicted Yang Jihyeon’s defeat.

Some even considered her a sacrificial pawn.

“I wish I could see Gu Yangji’s sword technique this time.”

Such words might seem opportunistic, but considering the Nine Dragon Tournament was both a sect exchange and a competition, it wasn’t such a bad judgment.

Whether a Taoist cultivating the Way or a Shaolin monk of Buddhism, once they learned martial arts, their hunger for victory was the same.

‘Feels like I’ve become nothing but a spectacle.’

Just as a wry smile touched Yang Jihyeon’s face, Gu Yangji shrugged his shoulders.

“How long do you plan to just stand there?”

Completely defenseless.

That was Yang Jihyeon’s first thought when he saw Gu Yangji.

Not only his stride, but even the fingers gripping his sword seemed so loose a child could probably pry them apart.

“Right now.”

Yang Ji-hyeon murmured to himself without realizing it.

Yeah, why am I scared of someone I haven’t even fought properly?

This isn’t how a disciple of the Gongdong Sect should act.

Yang Jihyeon’s gaze deepened, and the breath she drew in cooled the hot pounding in her throat.

Soon, a small ball of energy coalesced above her fist.

Its color was intensely blue, its shape resembling a tiger’s claw.

Gu Yangjie sensed what Yang Jihyeon was about to unleash.

‘The Seven Wounds Fist.’

A fist technique, alongside the Demon-Subduing Sword Art, called one of the two supreme arts of the Joint Sect.

Or, it is called the beginning and end of the Middle-Hand Fist.

The essence of the Seven Wounds Fist was relatively simple, yet it was extremely difficult to master.

To say he would unleash such a technique meant he had a certain degree of confidence.

Gu Yang-jeok’s entire body tightened with tension.

“Well then, let’s fight.”

Gu Yang-jeok no longer saw Yang Ji-hyeon as someone to toy with.

In this place where swords, gauntlets, and weapons clashed, they were enemies.

This weight, like an unwelcome guest.

Not bad.

A cheerful smile spread across Gu Yang-jeok’s face.

“Me first? Or you?”

At those words, Yang Jihyeon instinctively knew.

This would be his last chance to seize the initiative. He sensed it viscerally.

Simultaneously, a wave of humiliation surged.

‘Who the hell does that bastard think he is!’

Yang Jihyeon stifled the urge to shout it out loud. This was still a free duel with many spectators watching.

When the numbers dwindled, leaving only about ten opponents remaining.

He would formally request a one-on-one duel.

Yang Ji-hyun’s shout filled the Nine Dragon Arena.

“I gratefully accept that concession!”

“Please go easy on me.”

Though he said this, Gu Yang-jeok actually hoped his opponent would press forward with even greater force.

Boredom and tedium were not his style.

Thwack!

Yang Jihyeon’s Seven Star Palm, unleashed with all his might, exploded against the blade.

Sssshhh.

Gu Yangjeok effortlessly parried the attack, but couldn’t prevent his heel from being forced back.

Seeing Yang Jihyeon’s veins bulging crimson, Gu Yangjeok chuckled softly.

‘He’s using his dragon energy.’

This too was another struggle for Yang Jihyun.

Of course, she had no intention whatsoever of letting him win.

Gyu Yangjeok gritted his teeth, channeling purple Zaha Jinqi through his sword.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

“……!”

“Good heavens.”

The Sword Saint and the elders of the Wudang Sect, who had been watching quietly, leapt to their feet.

But the clash between Yang Zhihui and Gu Yangjie was not yet over.

Clang!

Yang Zhihui was engulfed by the sensation of being pushed backward.

He too saw it, if only for an instant.

The sword energy forged from Purple Sea True Qi.

The Seven Star Palm that collided with it lost its force. Instead, it carried a rebound force that pushed back the caster.

A lump of blood welled up inside, clogging his throat.

‘I tried to decide the short-term battle with the Seven Star Palm, but it was instead repelled by the rebound force.’

That meant the sword energy wasn’t just formed on the surface; it was densely woven all the way through.

‘The level… is different!’

Snap!

Yang Ji-hyun’s fangs ground against her lower teeth with satisfying force. The sound scattered the negative thoughts.

She steadied her body as it was pushed back.

Immediately, Yang Ji-hyun gathered her five fingers like a spear and slammed them down onto the unarmed floor.

Crack!

Instantly, her nails rattled, and her skin tore, causing flashes before her eyes.

For Yang Ji-hyun, who had only recently reached the late stage of cultivation, pain was still a challenge to overcome.

But Gu Yang-ji still stood before her.

He was looking down at her with an expression of amusement.

That alone gave Yang Ji-hyun strength.

“Guhk, spit.”

She spat out the blood clots from her internal injuries carelessly.

That didn’t improve the situation, though. In fact, her internal injuries were worsening at an accelerated pace.

If this were a typical friendly sparring match, it should have ended right here.

But…

‘I want to keep fighting.’

Though Yang Ji-hyun was merely a late-stage cultivator, she knew this one thing.

Opportunities like this didn’t come easily.

A martial artist who could wield such mature sword energy at a younger age than herself would soon ascend to a much higher realm.

By then, she wouldn’t even have the chance to meet him, let alone fight him in the same space.

If not now, when could she possibly fight him!

Thwack!

Yang Ji-hyun pivoted on his planted arm and swung his right leg out sharply.

A small whistle escaped Gu Yang-jeok’s lips.

‘Using fist techniques from that stance? Your body’s surprisingly flexible for a man.’

But he wasn’t an opponent to be easily bested.

Thud, clang!

Gu Yangjeok twisted his ankle, sweeping Yang Jihyun’s right leg out from under him.

Of course, Yang Jihyun didn’t just stand there.

“Hwaaah!”

Thus, Yang Jihyun charged recklessly at Gu Yangjeok across the battle-scarred ground.

Despite being wounded with every clash, she did not retreat.

Five seconds, ten seconds, twenty seconds.

With each interlocking strike, cuts marred the knuckle guards Yang Jihyeon wore.

Then, just as the metal parts were completely shattered.

Thud, swish.

Gu Yang-jeok stepped back of his own accord and sheathed his sword.

Then he asked Yang Ji-hyeon.

“Is that enough?”

“Kke-heo, kke.”

Yang Ji-hyeon scraped the last breath from the depths of his lungs with his fingernails, answering with great effort.

It was a struggle just to lift his fallen body.

“…I am satisfied.”

“Master Yang, might I ask your Daoist name?”

“Mingyun. Mingyun.”

At those words, Gu Yangji nodded as if satisfied.

‘Just hearing the secular name, I wouldn’t have known.’

He had thought it strange for someone just beginning to make a name for themselves in the late Ji period to possess such immense fighting spirit.

‘Was he the Fist King?’

Gu Yangji suddenly regarded Yang Zhixian with a newfound respect, as if he were a treasure.

If he cultivated a friendship with him now, it could become a significant asset.

And rightly so. The future Yang Zhixian was a master who, in one-on-one combat, was unmatched by anyone.

Even when blinded by the Tang family’s treachery, he did not falter.

Rather, he was famed for using that as a stepping stone to become even stronger.

That’s why Gu Yang-jeok also considered the Fist King a martial artist worthy of respect.

But now…

‘He’s just a complete rookie, isn’t he?’

He came simply because he was interested, saying he wanted to become friends.

Moreover, just moments ago, Yang Ji-hyun had been close to a fatal wound.

Had Gu Yang-jeok not stepped back first, she would have required at least half a year of recuperation due to deep internal injuries.

Even so, Gu Yang-jeok couldn’t bring himself to scold Yang Ji-hyeon.

“Recently, sparring with you has been the most enjoyable.”

“…Huh, is that a compliment?”

Gu Yang-jeok didn’t respond to that remark, instead helping Yang Ji-hyeon to her feet.

“…….”

For a moment, silence flowed through the Nine Dragons Arena.

Though the duel had ended, the lingering respect for Gu Yangji and Yang Zhixian seemed to remain.

Just then.

-Let’s speak privately for a moment.

Xian Jianjin called Gu Yangji aside.

* * *

“Having watched the Nine Dragon Tournament for thirty years, I’ve never seen a late-stage cultivator like you before.”

Praised by an elder like Xian Jianjin with such strict and earnest praise, Gu Yangjie felt awkward and changed the subject.

“Then how many times have you experienced it?”

“Once every five years. Six times in total.”

“……It was a larger competition than I imagined.”

“Didn’t you hear about it at Huashan?”

Xianjian Jinren let out a hollow laugh, as if momentarily dumbfounded.

“The Nine Dragons Tournament is the largest competition held in Shaanxi. Especially this time, the prize is something worth looking forward to.”

“It did look like a famous sword, after all.”

At Gu Yangji’s subtle probe, Xian Jianjin laughed heartily.

“Hehehe. I suppose you could say fate itself bestowed it upon me. Truthfully, I’m still in a daze.”

Gu Yangji grew suspicious at those words.

The True Spirit Sword wasn’t an ordinary blade; even if the forger was unknown, it was an item that could fetch a high price.

Yet, from what he was saying now, it seemed not bought for competition or received as a gift, but rather obtained through some kind of serendipitous encounter.

Thinking he needed to probe a little further, Gu Yangji asked cautiously.

“Are you saying fate guided you to it?”

“Yes. Well, it’s not really that important, so I suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell you.”

Xian Jianjin gave a small, hollow cough.

“Actually, the True Sword was given to me by a man who came to visit the shaman. He brought such a legendary sword, yet he didn’t even accept any payment.”

“Do you perhaps know his name?”

“Hmm, I don’t know his name, but there was a nickname circulating in the world.”

“A nickname? Was he a martial artist?”

“No, he wasn’t a martial artist…”

His expression briefly furrowed as if struggling to recall, then smoothed out.

“Was it… Mantongzi?”

Recalling the nickname, Hyun Geom Jin-in could now picture Mantongzi’s appearance.

“I remember him being about your age. “

Wan Tong-ja.

From the moment that word came out, Gu Yang-jeok froze solid, unable to properly hear what Xian Jianjin was saying.