Chapter 717

TL Notes

: Hi everyone. I've started smoothly adapting the characters to fit the fandom of the story. Really wish I had done this earlier. Of course, there's a lot of things I can't fix now that we're past 700 chapters, but I can still make minor changes and it shouldn't be confusing. At the moment it's about Paejon. Previously I used Bi Eui-jin, and according to the official character page /wiki/Bijuu) the correct translation is Bi Eejin! I don't think this should cause a problem. Of course, implementing the Dragon Warrior nickname instead of Twin Dragon is not possible now. Things like this will be changed during a full chapters revision after the story ends.

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Two hours had passed since the third round of the main tournament began.

The time felt even longer while sitting idle.

But—

“Waaaah—!!”

The heat of excitement still filled the air.

Boom—! Boom, boom—!

“Haaah!”

It was a fierce spectacle, like a raging storm.

Shouts and the sounds of weapons clashing echoed everywhere.

Even as the sky slowly began to darken, the energy remained unbroken.

“The Windstorm Fist… I’ve only heard rumors, but what a powerful martial artist.”

“…I’d like to face them someday.”

“With a sword like that, the Quickdraw Blade must be burning with envy.”

Martial artists watched the matches in awe, analyzing and discussing techniques.

Since most of the audience consisted of participants who had made it this far, their ability to observe and assess was remarkable.

Making it to the third round of the main tournament already marked someone as a formidable opponent.

Even watching the matches could bring enlightenment.

That was why the martial artists remained focused and energized despite the long hours.

And it was also why the crowd’s enthusiasm never waned—they were witnessing masters in action.

Of course—

‘This is boring.’

For me, it was nothing more than a tedious schedule.

Why?

‘The matchups are horribly unbalanced.’

The skill gaps between opponents were glaring.

Over two hours, I’d seen several Hwagyeong-level martial artists, but their opponents were noticeably weaker.

Perhaps because of that gap, the fights lacked any real sense of desperation.

Instead, the weaker fighters seemed to treat it as an opportunity to learn from stronger opponents.

‘What is this? A training session?’

It wasn’t exciting at all.

There was no killing intent, no desperation, no intensity.

It was a match, so maybe this was normal—but—

‘It’s so dull.’

Watching it made me want to yawn.

‘…Maybe I really am crazy.’

Finding peaceful matches boring—did that mean I’d only enjoy it if they fought to the death?

‘Yeah, probably.’

When I imagined it, it did seem far more entertaining.

‘I’ve seriously lost it.’

I glanced to the side.

Tang So-yeol and Wi Seol-ah sat quietly watching the matches.

Neither of them looked particularly interested.

The only difference between us was that they seemed slightly more engaged.

‘Well, of course.’

Both of them were Hwagyeong-level martial artists. It was natural for them to be unimpressed.

Two hours of this already.

‘I should’ve just trained instead.’

What was I thinking, coming here to watch this?

‘If it weren’t for Seong Yul, I wouldn’t have bothered.’

I’d only come because he looked suspiciously uneasy.

But in hindsight, I probably didn’t need to.

‘He would’ve figured it out himself.’

I’d even told Cheol Ji-seon not to waste time on petty nonsense, and yet here I was doing the same.

I was well aware of my own contradictions.

And it left a bad taste in my mouth.

“Hmm.”

I let out a quiet breath, trying to shake off the irritation.

“Next.”

The previous match ended, and the next competitors appeared.

I shifted in my seat.

I’d just received a transmission.

—Sit properly. It’s bad for your back.

“...”

I frowned but adjusted my posture anyway.

“Waaaah—!!”

A massive, broad-shouldered man emerged from the entrance.

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers.

It was probably the most anticipated match of the day.

“It’s the Blade King!”

Peng Zhou, the Blade King.

The head of the Hebei Peng Clan and one of the Six Thrones of the Central Plains.

—Waaaah!

The cheers grew louder as he entered.

Peng Zhou walked forward, unfazed by the noise.

Boom! Boom!

Each step sent tremors through the ground, as if causing a localized earthquake.

The spectators’ excitement only grew.

“Incredible—! So this is the power of a Great Clan’s patriarch.”

“He shakes the ground just by walking!”

While the crowd marveled, I couldn’t help but scowl.

‘It’s not just his steps.’

I grumbled inwardly, feeling the oppressive heat around me.

That old man hadn’t changed one bit.

‘He’s doing the exact same thing he did during the preliminaries.’

He was letting his Qi spill out deliberately, flooding the area to show off.

“…Sigh.”

“Hmph.”

Tang So-yeol and Wi Seol-ah both let out quiet sighs as well.

They even averted their gazes, as if it was too much to watch.

Anyone at a certain level could see through it—this was pure theatrics.

Still—

“Waaaah—!”

Judging by the crowd’s reaction, it was working.

The Blade King ascended the stage, releasing waves of Qi.

Another figure could be seen behind him.

Of course, my eyes immediately locked onto that person.

Dressed entirely in black from head to toe—a young man with delicate features.

Twin Dragon, wearing his mask.

It was Paejon.

Hands clasped behind his back, he blended into the Blade King’s shadow, walking calmly up to the stage.

“...”

Even as he walked, Paejon’s gaze was locked onto me.

Out of all the people in this crowd, he found me instantly.

Not only that, but he had sent me a transmission before even stepping out—meaning he’d already sensed me through the walls.

‘What a terrifying old man.’

His ability to detect Qi was truly monstrous.

At that moment, voices from the surrounding crowd drifted into my ears.

“They say the Blade King’s opponent is the Twin Dragon?”

“Twin Dragon… You mean the one they call Paejon’s successor?”

“Yeah. That’s what I heard. He’s been making waves recently.”

The conversation shifted to Bi Eejin. I couldn’t help but listen in.

“But I don’t think there’s been any impressive performance from him in this tournament so far. Are the rumors even true?”

“It’s hard to say they’re false when he came here carrying Paejon’s recommendation. Besides, the fact that he’s made it this far proves enough.”

“It’s just unfortunate… considering who he’s up against.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

The successor of Paejon.

That title alone came with immense expectations.

It was a testament to just how revered the Three Masters were in the orthodox sects.

But even with all those expectations—reality had its limits.

“His opponent is the Blade King, after all.”

“Still, you never know. Look at the Crescent Moon Sword—we all saw what she’s capable of. The Twin Dragon might be just as extraordinary.”

Hearing her name, Wi Seol-ah’s ears twitched slightly.

She was listening.

After what Wi Seol-ah and the Divine Dragon had demonstrated, people were beginning to consider the possibility that even Late-Stage Grandmasters could be monstrous.

That was the talk going around.

But—

“Haha… Maybe. But let’s be honest.”

The martial artists’ reactions remained doubtful.

“No matter what—his opponent is still the Blade King.”

“Mm.”

The Blade King.

That name alone erased all other possibilities.

The Blade King (刀王).

One of the Six Thrones currently reigning over the Central Plains.

The Sword King (劍王) of the Namgung Clan.

The Blade King (刀王) of the Peng Clan.

The Poison King (毒王) of the Tang Clan.

The Sword Queen (劍后) of Mount Hua.

The Flame King (炎王), unaffiliated.

The Bright Queen (明后) of the Western Desert.

The Six Thrones—figures whose influence reached across the martial world.

Although they weren’t chosen based on strength alone, none of them were weak.

They were all immensely powerful martial artists.

‘I don’t know much about the Flame King or the Bright Queen, but they’re probably just as strong.’

Even excluding the ones I hadn’t seen in my past life, each of them was formidable.

‘Maybe not on the level of the Ten Grand Masters, but still.’

They were martial artists at their peak—masters no one could underestimate.

Sure, the Divine Dragon and Crescent Moon Sword had reached Hwagyeong.

That was astonishing.

But reaching the Six Thrones was another matter entirely.

That was how people saw it.

‘Yeah, just perception.’

Paejon’s disciple or not, he was still a disciple.

And the Blade King was out of reach.

But that raised another question—

‘Could the Blade King reach Paejon?’

The Six Thrones.

The Ten Grand Masters.

Could mere humans, bound to the earth, reach those who stood above the heavens?

Even if the heavens chained them down and dragged them to earth, could someone like the Blade King even dare to look up?

‘No.’

It wasn’t even worth considering.

No matter how foul-mouthed, dirty, and downright insufferable that old man was—

He was still Paejon.

‘The Blade King doesn’t even come close.’

Worry?

Not even a little.

As I said before, Bi Eejin is Paejon.

That alone answered everything.

So what I was worried about wasn’t Paejon’s safety.

‘…Please, just don’t overdo it.’

I could only hope that that old man didn’t cause too much of a scene.

******************

Cheers erupted from all directions.

The fiery excitement refused to die down as two martial artists faced each other on the stage.

The middle-aged man stood with his arms crossed, staring at the younger man.

Meanwhile, the younger man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze directed somewhere else entirely.

Seeing this, Peng Zhou, the Blade King, furrowed his brows.

‘Where the hell is he looking?’

With his opponent standing right in front of him, this young man dared to look elsewhere?

Peng Zhou’s expression grew darker at the blatant display of disrespect.

‘Tsk.’

Young people these days—none of them knew how to behave.

He wasn’t just a senior.

He was the senior, the Blade King, and this kid had the audacity to act like this?

‘I was even planning to show some respect since he’s Paejon’s disciple.’

Paejon Bijuu.

A man who had survived countless battles of life and death—

Who had endured repeated defeats yet emerged alive each time—

Who had single-handedly created his own martial arts and risen to the rank of Grandmaster after contributing greatly to the war against the Demonic Factions.

Recalling that old man, Peng Zhou clicked his tongue.

‘Like master, like disciple. They’re both insufferable.’

He had seen Paejon several times before.

Once, as a child, when he accompanied his father, Peng Tae-woo.

And again, in his early twenties.

‘That damned look in his eyes.’

He still remembered it vividly.

The way that old man had looked at him—

As if he were nothing more than a pebble on the side of the road.

Cold. Disinterested.

That gaze had made Peng Zhou shrink back in humiliation.

And now—

‘This bastard has the same eyes.’

Maybe it was because he was Paejon’s disciple.

But there was something about Bi Eejin that radiated Paejon’s presence.

Unlike the scarred and battle-hardened Paejon, this one looked young and fresh-faced.

Yet the feeling was the same.

‘Him, that bastard Gu Cheolwoon’s son, and this brat—they all piss me off.’

Peng Zhou clenched his teeth.

‘I’ll crush him here.’

Everything about this situation disgusted him—

Including the fact that he had to stand on this stage at all.

‘Damn it.’

If the Alliance hadn’t threatened to bring up past incidents, he wouldn’t have had to lower himself like this.

‘They dared to use me, Peng Zhou, as a clown?’

He would never forget this humiliation.

One day, he’d rise to the position of Alliance Leader and make them all pay.

For now, he endured.

Peng Zhou calmed his rising anger and focused on his opponent.

Bi Eejin was still looking elsewhere.

Normally, Peng Zhou would have snapped by now.

Instead, he smirked.

‘Good. I’ll fix that attitude.’

This was the perfect chance—

A place where he could beat down his opponent without consequences.

This arrogant young brat?

Peng Zhou would personally humble him.

He drew his sword.

Rumble.

A heavy blade emerged from its sheath.

It wasn’t his usual weapon, the Black Fang Ink Blade (Heuk-a Mukdo).

Weapons of that caliber were prohibited in the tournament, so this was a standard blade provided by the Alliance.

But in Peng Zhou’s hands, even an ordinary blade held immense weight.

Whoom—

An overwhelming surge of Qi burst forth from him.

Rumble.

“Ugh!”

“Hngh!”

People groaned under the pressure.

It was a level of dominance far beyond the earlier matches.

Peng Zhou was simply preparing, yet his presence already captivated everyone.

“You’d best get ready.”

He spoke as his Qi crashed down.

Finally, Bi Eejin turned to look at him.

The same blank expression.

Peng Zhou hesitated for a moment.

‘Is he just… scared?’

Maybe he hadn’t been ignoring him after all.

Maybe he was too nervous to even make eye contact.

‘Of course. That makes sense.’

No way a Late-Stage Grandmaster could actually look down on him.

It was nerves. That was all.

“Don’t worry.”

Peng Zhou smiled condescendingly.

“I won’t take this too seriously. Consider it a rare opportunity to spread your wings.”

His words oozed mockery.

And then—

“Hmm.”

Bi Eejin tilted his head.

“I see. Your father was better. It’s a shame.”

“…What?”

Peng Zhou froze.

But before he could demand an explanation—

“Ready.”

The judge raised his hand.

“Match—begin!”

The match started.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Peng Zhou broke the silence.

“As a senior, I’ll grant you three free moves.”

“...”

Bi Eejin’s eyes widened slightly.

Surprise?

“…Ah. Senior. Right.”

“...”

Peng Zhou was convinced now. The kid was rattled.

But then—

“Thanks. I needed to check something anyway.”

Step.

Bi Eejin began walking toward him.

Calmly.

Deliberately.

Peng Zhou scoffed.

‘He’s walking?’

Did this brat really think he had the luxury to stroll up like this?

What a joke—

Whoosh—

Bang!

“!?”

Peng Zhou flinched.

He was already blocking with his arm—

But he hadn’t even seen the attack.

Bi Eejin, who had been meters away, was suddenly in front of him.

His kick had landed before Peng Zhou even realized what happened.

‘What the hell—?’

Peng Zhou barely registered the impact.

But before he could react—

“Too weak.”

Bi Eejin pulled back his leg and spoke.

Then—

Boom—!

“Kugh! Cough—!”

A fist smashed into Peng Zhou’s abdomen.

His Qi Armor shattered instantly.

His massive frame was lifted into the air.

Peng Zhou barely stabilized himself mid-fall, landing heavily.

Thud.

He staggered back, clutching his stomach.

“Haa… haa…!”

He nearly vomited.

“You… what the hell was that—?”

“Hmm.”

Bi Eejin examined him for a moment before nodding.

“Too strong. Something in between should be fine.”

Smiling in satisfaction, he beckoned with his fingers.

“No need for three moves. Come at me whenever you’re ready.”

Paejon was certain now.

‘This is perfect.’

Just enough force—

To humiliate the Blade King without killing him.