Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The disciples of the Azure Sword Sect who saw Youngho’s eyes, from which a chilling cold seemed to drip, unconsciously swallowed and nodded.

With those words, Youngho’s figure vanished.

Unjeong’s eyes widened in shock as he saw Youngho once again slip out of his Qi Sense in an instant.

‘Even though I was definitely watching him this time!’

There were far too many hidden masters in the world. As if painfully realizing his own shortcomings, Unjeong clenched his fist tightly.

Meanwhile, two figures were watching the scene.

-Cheon, do you think you can win?

At the woman’s voice transmission, Namgung Cheon slightly moved his lips as he replied through voice transmission.

-I’m not sure. To be honest, I can’t even begin to guess how strong he is.

-That much?

-Ryeonhwa, I’m not the strongest.

Zhuge Ryeonhwa let out a small scoff, as if asking what nonsense he was spouting.

-As far as I know, there isn’t a single Junior Disciple who surpasses you.

-That may be true in the Orthodox Sect.

Namgung Cheon’s eyes carried a peculiar competitive spirit as he spoke.

From a distance, Youngho was watching Namgung Cheon.

“It has been a while, my friend.”

An irrepressible smile curved at the corners of Youngho’s lips.

It had only been a single day since he arrived at the Dragon–Phoenix Gathering, yet Youngho had already experienced much and reunited with many connections from before his Regression.

Among them, Namgung Cheon and Zhuge Ryeonhwa were special. Namgung Cheon had been his true friend before the Regression, and Zhuge Ryeonhwa had been the Chief Strategist of the Murim Alliance.

Of course, unlike Namgung Cheon, Zhuge Ryeonhwa had held strong prejudices against the Unorthodox Faction, so it had not been easy to grow close to her at first.

However, after seeing the changed Youngho, she eventually reached a point where she could at least be called a friend.

Youngho’s gaze caught sight of Sopyung and Horyeung sitting and resting.

Taat!

With a light kick against the ground, Youngho’s figure arrived before Sopyung in an instant.

Her eyes widened at his sudden appearance—only for a moment.

Then Sopyung beamed brightly at him.

“Young Master! Are you feeling better now?”

Seeing that Youngho looked far more refreshed than before he left, Sopyung’s expression showed that she felt at least somewhat relieved.

“Yes. I’m feeling much better.”

“That’s a relief.”

“But what were you doing here?”

There was nothing to see or eat nearby, nor did Sopyung appear tired enough to be resting.

Unable to understand why she was here, Youngho asked.

“Ah, well….”

As Sopyung gave an awkward smile, Youngho, sensing something odd, turned to look at Horyeung.

Under Youngho’s silent pressure to explain, Horyeung shook his head.

“There have been too many fights breaking out around here. I judged that it wouldn’t be appropriate for Sopyung to see them.”

“Is that so? Still, it seems like she’s already seen most of them anyway.”

Sopyung nodded vigorously.

“That’s right! There was so much to see! Fights broke out everywhere we went… hehe.”

As they walked, Youngho and Sopyung talked at length. Nothing important—if anything, it was idle chatter.

But Youngho cherished this kind of peace. It was an emotion he would not be able to feel in the future.

Horyeung silently followed behind, listening to their conversation, while Elder Hyeok…

“Young Master, where are you! Please!!”

…was still searching for Youngho.

Several days passed, and before long, the preliminaries of the Dragon–Phoenix Gathering began.

Since so many people had come, it seemed the preliminaries alone would take an enormous amount of time.

Not a single spectator could be seen at the preliminary matches. Only the Martial Artists competing and the judges were present.

In truth, the Dragon–Phoenix Gathering only allowed spectators to watch the main tournament. Thus, there was no need to worry about public attention—except for two individuals who could not be treated as exceptions.

Because their skills were overwhelmingly superior, those who had not yet fought became spectators themselves, watching the two Junior Disciples.

Thud!

Pshuuuuuk!

The moment Cheon Muback’s domineering fist slammed into his opponent’s abdomen, the opponent spewed fresh blood and was sent flying.

Having subdued his opponent in a single punch, Cheon Muback stepped down from the stage with an indifferent expression.

It was an action possible only because he was certain his opponent had lost consciousness.

Meanwhile, another man, Namgung Cheon, was boasting tremendous Internal Energy as he pressed his opponent relentlessly with a crushing heavy sword.

Heavy. Endlessly heavy.

The one facing Namgung Cheon struggled under the weight of his sword before ultimately falling in defeat.

They said the best defense was offense. The current Namgung Cheon embodied that saying perfectly.

They were undoubtedly the most brilliant among the Junior Disciples. Yet the judges’ gazes drifted elsewhere—toward someone other than Cheon Muback and Namgung Cheon.

Where the judges were looking, Youngho was facing a Junior Disciple with exceedingly gentle control of his hand.

Like the others, Youngho ended his matches swiftly. But while the Junior Disciples might not realize it, the judges found themselves admiring his fundamentals and unconsciously comparing him to themselves.

‘How can he do that with only basic sword forms…?’

‘Could I manage that?’

One only saw as much as one knew. Only those skilled enough to serve as judges focused intently on Youngho’s movements.

Youngho’s center was firm. It felt as though he possessed solid roots that nothing could shake.

It was not flashy, but all the more efficient for it. His sword traced the most optimal path, and that unremarkable trajectory steadily stole away his opponent’s space.

‘He’s seasoned!’

‘Has he experienced many real battles?’

Even his moment-to-moment responses were exceptional—far beyond what could be expected of a Junior Disciple.

Youngho’s swordsmanship was so remarkable that even the judges found things to learn from it.

Yet among them, only a few could truly discern the real value of his sword.

Even Cheon Muback and Namgung Cheon felt puzzled by Youngho’s unexpectedly rough sword path, and because it was so different from the Martial Presence they had sensed before, they wondered if he was a different person altogether.

That thought shattered completely when Youngho stepped onto the stage for his third match.

His opponent was someone from the Demonic Cult. And the moment the match began, Youngho did not even draw his sword—he simply rushed forward and struck his opponent’s neck with a hand blade.

Bang!

With a thunderous crash that made one wonder if the neck bones had shattered, the Demonic Cult member slowly collapsed. Youngho clicked his tongue and said,

“My sword would be wasted on the likes of you.”

At Youngho’s chilling and savage words, even the strongest of the judges flinched.

Meanwhile, the Junior Disciples who had faced Youngho earlier were horrified by the starkly different manner of this match compared to their own.

‘That could have been me?’

‘He’s strong!’

Quick-witted Zhuge Ryeonhwa had noticed that Youngho only showed leniency in his hand when dealing with Junior Disciples of the Orthodox Sect.

Youngho’s next opponent was a member of the Unorthodox Faction. If his hand proved rough again this time, unlike when he faced the Orthodox Sect’s Junior Disciples, Zhuge Ryeonhwa intended to revise her evaluation of him.

And so, five days passed merely filtering out the riffraff through the preliminaries.

Before they knew it, the main tournament of the Dragon–Phoenix Gathering had begun.

Bustle, bustle.

As the main tournament commenced, crowds began gathering near the venue in droves.

They purchased snacks to eat while watching the sparring matches.

Thanks to that, the Marketplace became more lively than it had been five days ago—so much so that it was incomparably noisier.

“Move aside!”

“You move! I can barely breathe as it is!”

“Stop pushing!”

“Please, just stop talking!”

Seeing the enormous crowd gathered here, Youngho looked at the spectators with a weary expression.

“Now this is Martial Presence. This is what you call Martial Presence.”

Most Junior Disciples would feel as though they might be crushed to death under the pressure of those gazes.

‘Even a Peak Master Level would step aside.’

Kang Hosan and Kang Chowon, too, seemed unable to move properly under the overwhelming weight of those countless stares.

Seeing them like that, Horyeung tried to ease their tension with a joke. Kang Chowon relaxed somewhat—but Kang Hosan did not.

Noticing Kang Hosan’s stiff expression, Youngho smirked.

“Are you that nervous?”

Kang Hosan barely managed to nod.

“Yes. It’s my first time fighting in front of this many spectators.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s because of your sparring opponent, right?”

Kang Hosan’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“It’s obvious at a glance.”

Even Horyeung, perhaps because it concerned his disciple, grew curious and asked Youngho politely,

“What do you mean?”

“You know that before being assigned to each unit, you all gather for common training, right?”

“Yes.”

“Hosan entered the Asura Squad. And among his peers, someone must have entered the Flying Phoenix Unit, another the Yama Unit, and another the Blood Flame Unit.”

As Kang Hosan nodded as if spellbound by Youngho’s words, Horyeung finally let out an exclamation of realization.

“So that’s it.”

“Right. And Hosan’s opponent happens to be one of the Flying Phoenix Unit members. His name is… Seongman. He’s probably from the same intake as Hosan.”

“…That’s correct.”

Kang Hosan no longer tried to hide it and spoke in a trembling voice.

“Unlike me, Seongman had talent.”

“I told you. Rapid growth is not the entirety of genius.”

“I know you often say that late bloomers achieve greatness. But I still don’t know whether I have any talent at all.”

At that moment, Youngho fixed Kang Hosan with a deeply sunken gaze.

Feeling as though he had fallen into a swamp, Kang Hosan involuntarily inhaled sharply.

“Hosan, the training you’ve done until now had meaning.”

Kang Hosan nodded. It was not merely because he was overwhelmed by Youngho’s Martial Presence.

He truly believed that his training thus far had borne fruit.

Although Horyeung had led the training, it was Youngho who had laid down the solid foundation. Most of the regimen bore Youngho’s influence.

Otherwise, why would even Horyeung consult Youngho about training methods?

How someone not yet of coming-of-age had devised such training methods was beyond comprehension, but at the very least, the training Kang Hosan had endured until now had meaning.

“No one—not even family—can believe in you perfectly. The only one who can believe in you is yourself. Believe in yourself.”

At Youngho’s confident words, Kang Hosan felt some of his tension ease.

The muscles of his face, which had been stiff moments ago, relaxed noticeably. Seeing that, Youngho smirked.

“And one more thing—if you ask me, you’re stronger than that Seongman fellow.”

“…What?”

“I said you’re stronger than Seongman.”

“How can you know that?”

“I met the Flying Phoenix Unit before.”

“Was Seongman among them?”

“Yeah. Still, don’t let your guard down. You might lose if you do.”

You might lose. Saying he might lose meant his chances of winning were higher.

In his life, Kang Hosan had never heard sweeter words. He had always lost. He had never once assumed victory.

“No matter how talented he once was, do you think he trained harder than you?”

At those words, Kang Hosan’s eyes blazed. The pride he held in the training he had endured burned fiercely within them.

“I personally sparred with you and trained you. And you’d still lose? If it were me, I’d drown myself in a washbasin. If you lose after going through training that brutal, you should die of embarrassment.”

Seeing Youngho joke lightly for his sake, Kang Hosan felt the tension drain from his entire body.

“And he’s a direct guard under Baekcheong. If you lose to the Flying Phoenix Unit, you’re dead by my hands.”

That joke might have gone a bit too far.

“Hey, if you really lose to the Flying Phoenix Unit, consider all the training you’ve done so far to have been heaven. If I truly set my mind to it, I’ll roast and boil you all.”

…Was that really a joke?

Kang Hosan and the others looked at the cold smile curling on Youngho’s lips and thought,

‘He’s serious!’

‘I absolutely won’t lose. Even if I die, I won’t lose!’

As if carried away by his own fervor, Youngho spoke passionately for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Go on, Hosan.”

With Youngho’s indifferent tone—one that seemed utterly certain no upset would occur—Kang Hosan felt reassured and smiled brightly.

“Yes!”