Chapter 57

The final day of the duel to decide the owner of Sunny Breeze and Green Field had dawned.

Warriors from the Zhuge and Hwangbo families packed the area around the dais where the duel would be held, the air taut with tension.

Today’s match would decide the new owner of the Tae-san sacred blade, Sunny Breeze and Green Field.

And the origin of the Tae-san Divine Sword—long disputed—would be settled as well; possession of the sacred item would grant undeniable legitimacy.

When Zhuge Kwan first stepped onto the duel arena, the Zhuge warriors erupted in applause.

When Hwangbo Ryeong followed, the Hwangbo side answered with a thunderous cheer.

Finally, as Yeon Mujin took the arena, jeers and boos rained down indiscriminately at both families.

“Oooo!”

“Get lost!”

“Don’t interfere with the families’ contest!”

Because this was a decisive battle over the sacred item, no one wanted him to win.

Yeon Mujin was an unpredictable variable—an awkward presence in the middle of this feud.

As always, he stood on the duel arena holding a shabby broom.

“Where does that broom of his keep coming from?”

“Does he intend to fight with that until the end? How utterly arrogant!”

“Just fall off the stage already!”

Hwangbo Ryeong and Zhuge Kwan exchanged complicated looks as they sized him up.

Before the duel began in earnest, the three gathered at the center and exchanged brief formalities.

Hwangbo Ryeong shook Yeon Mujin’s hand and sneered. “You won’t give up that broom to the end, huh.”

“This is my unique weapon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Look at your hands—hands that belong to a swordsman.”

“No, you’re mistaken. You misread the person.”

“You have no intention of taking a sword and fighting properly?”

“I don’t know how to use a sword.”

“…Fine, suit yourself.”

Yeon Mujin exchanged formalities with Zhuge Kwan as well. Zhuge unfurled his fan and fanned himself; the gaze above the fan fixed sharply on Yeon Mujin.

He spoke softly, in a tone others couldn’t hear. “Who are you really?”

“A simple companion.”

“Hmph.”

Zhuge sneered coldly. “Well, you won’t need to know for long, I suppose.”

“Indeed. You should be thinking about how to beat the Hwangbo family over there.”

Zhuge shot a sharp glare at that remark. He had offered the words as a courtesy, but the reaction was lacklustre.

‘Well, none of my concern.’

For Yeon Mujin, this duel wasn’t about winning. His goal was the third-place prize: a sacred pill.

When the contestants finished preparing, the announcer stepped forward and spoke.

“The final’s rules have been changed slightly. In the final there will be no forfeits and no out-of-bounds losses. I will only declare a disqualification if someone is judged unable to continue, or if the victor is clearly decided.”

“What?”

“You two have no objections, right?”

“No objections.”

“Same here.”

Zhuge Kwan and Hwangbo Ryeong both nodded at the changed rules.

But Yeon Mujin did not.

“Wait, that wasn’t mentioned before?”

The announcer frowned. “Why the blunt tone… This decision was made to ensure a finals-worthy performance, so accept it.”

“What if I refuse and forfeit?”

“Then it’s a walkover. No prize will be given to whoever forfeits.”

After a moment the announcer added, “But why does this bastard keep talking so bluntly…?”

“Fine. Understood. Now get lost.”

Wary of Zhuge and Hwangbo’s looks, the announcer couldn’t scold Yeon Mujin further. He stepped back glaring—an unspoken, we’ll see after the duel—but it hardly mattered; Yeon Mujin would disappear after the match anyway.

‘They’ve added an annoying rule.’

He had planned to quietly fall out of bounds and finish third, but now things had become troublesome.

‘Maybe I should take a few hits and pretend to be knocked out?’

It would bruise his pride, but there was no helping it. Yeon Mujin was a versatile fighter—skilled in stealth, counter-techniques, the immortal two-drunks method, and spirit-feeding tactics—so faking defeat was child’s play.

‘Then who should I take hits from?’

Zhuge’s behavior irritated him, so scratch him; he’d pretend to be floored after taking a hit from Hwangbo. Hwangbo’s Thunder Tremor Sword Technique was flashy enough to make the act convincing.

Having made his calculations, Yeon Mujin took a stance ready to spring toward Hwangbo at any moment.

The three warriors took positions in a triangular formation.

The announcer struck the signaling staff and shouted, “Duel start!”

At his shout they moved simultaneously.

Rumble!

The first to seize everyone’s attention was undeniably Hwangbo Ryeong. A thunderous roar seemed to pour from his sword.

‘That’s it!’ Yeon Mujin seized the opportunity and charged at Hwangbo.

At the same time Hwangbo surged forward, and Zhuge Kwan charged toward Yeon Mujin.

As Yeon Mujin hesitated whether to follow Hwangbo, he spotted Zhuge rushing at him. Zhuge’s eyes burned as he used mysterious footwork to close the distance.

Hwangbo aimed at Zhuge, Yeon Mujin aimed at Hwangbo, and Zhuge’s divine techniques targeted Yeon Mujin—Zhuge’s was the most outstanding.

As a result, the first exchange was between Zhuge Kwan and Yeon Mujin.

Zhuge’s blade struck fiercely at Yeon Mujin’s meridian points. He wasn’t aiming for suppressive or training points; he went for lethal spots—points that could take a life if struck correctly.

Yeon Mujin narrowed his eyes. ‘Look at this bastard.’ He lightly flicked the blade aside with his broom, following through with a move aimed at Zhuge’s face. Seeing the foulness in his hands, irritation welled up.

“Hmph!”

But Yeon Mujin’s broom couldn’t even graze Zhuge’s collar. Just when he thought he’d landed a hit, Zhuge’s new form vanished like a phantom.

This was the real mysterious footwork—far superior to the fake one Zhuge Jo-yeon had shown. Zhuge slipped into Yeon Mujin’s blind spot and targeted three lethal points.

Since he went only for death-dealing spots, Yeon Mujin couldn’t simply let them land. Watching such relentless attacks stoked his anger.

‘Hold on, hold on. Mujin.’

He could have delivered a knockout while Zhuge was momentarily exposed, but he let it pass. If he knocked that guy out now, the pill would be out of reach. Now was the time to endure and wait.

Clatter!

At that moment Yeon Mujin’s savior appeared. Hwangbo Ryeong, finally arriving, aimed at Zhuge’s rear.

Zhuge backed off to create distance and stepped out of the Thunder Tremor Sword Technique’s domain.

‘Now!’

Yeon Mujin slipped in and entered the technique’s range. He planned to take a slight cut, bleed a little, and collapse. However—

Just as Hwangbo’s blade was about to touch him, Hwangbo suddenly withdrew and stepped back.

“Where do you think you’re running off to!”

Ignoring Yeon Mujin, Hwangbo charged at Zhuge again.

Yeon Mujin found himself treated like an invisible man.

“…?”

Boom! Bang! Bang!

Thunderclaps chased Zhuge, who dodged nimbly like a mouse to avoid a head-on clash.

After gaining distance, Zhuge again ignored Hwangbo and lunged at Yeon Mujin.

Yeon Mujin braced for another strike.

Lethal point.

‘I can’t let that hit me.’

Lethal point.

‘I have to parry that one too.’

Vital point.

‘I should take this one.’

Zhuge’s blade finally targeted a meridian, not a lethal spot. Yeon Mujin saw his chance—he would naturally expose a gap as if about to be subdued.

A prick—

A sting at the back of his neck raised an instinctive sense of danger. Without thinking, he swung the broom and knocked Zhuge’s blade aside.

At that moment Yeon Mujin glimpsed a flicker of regret pass through Zhuge’s eyes.

‘What was that just now? Those eyes—he looked like he wanted to kill me.’

Thanks to years of regression, Yeon Mujin could distinguish the look of someone who intended to kill. That look had been one of intent to kill. He was certain—he’d bet on it.

Meanwhile Hwangbo had caught up with Zhuge again.

Crash! Bang! Bang!

Each time Hwangbo’s sword swung, a thunderous boom rattled ears. An offense-only blade that ignored defense—Zhuge avoided direct confrontation and kept retreating.

Thud.

Distracted by Hwangbo, Zhuge didn’t notice he’d retreated to the very edge of the duel arena. His left foot—the pivot of his footwork—touched the stage’s edge.

Wobbling, Zhuge lost his balance and began to topple.

Hwangbo seized the chance. “You anchovy bastard, got you!”

“…!”

Astonishment flashed across Zhuge’s face. If that hit squarely, Zhuge would be eliminated to third place.

Clang!

Yeon Mujin’s broom struck the face of Hwangbo Ryeong’s swinging blade. The sword’s trajectory altered, and Zhuge bolted away.

Only then did Hwangbo’s angry gaze fall upon Yeon Mujin. “You! Why are you interfering!”

“Why do you ignore me?” Hwangbo shouted toward the fleeing Zhuge. “Don’t run—fight fair and square!”

Zhuge shouted back, refusing to yield. “You boar! Why are you only targeting me!”

“Why are you only going after him!”

Yeon Mujin, incredulous, shouted at both. “What on earth are you two doing!”

It was a complete madhouse.

“Don’t fight among yourselves—attack me!”

“You’re telling me that now…”

Hwangbo abandoned any tactic. His goal was victory; knocking Zhuge out first had been just a strategy. And he was a man far removed from the word “strategy.”

Rumble!

His sword began to emit thunderous strikes once more.

“Alright, I’ll give you what you want!”

When Hwangbo launched his sword intent at Yeon Mujin, the other two lit up with interest—Zhuge Kwan and Yeon Mujin.

‘Quickly finish this one and deal with the anchovy. The winner will be me.’

Hwangbo employed the Thunder Tremor Sword Technique to attack Yeon Mujin. But…

“Aagh!”

On the first probing strike, Yeon Mujin cried out and collapsed. The broom snapped in two, and he gagged blood from his mouth—he looked exactly like someone seriously wounded.

“…What the—?”

“Ugh, to be struck—how infuriating…”

Kneeling, Yeon Mujin clutched at a wound (less than a finger joint) and pressed it between two fingers to force the blood out. Soon his garment was soaked with blood. Hwangbo stared in disbelief.

“What are you doing?”

“The wound looks serious… you should get treatment right away…”

“No, I didn’t hit that hard, did I?”

“Hey! I’m defeated! Announce my elimination quickly!”

Yeon Mujin ignored the stunned Hwangbo and shouted at the announcer. But the announcer did not declare him eliminated upon seeing Yeon Mujin collapsed.

“Continue the duel!”

“What?”

While the two stood dumbfounded, Zhuge Kwan made the first move.

“No, I’m hurt! That’s elimination!” Yeon Mujin protested, and in the moment he looked away Zhuge advanced.

Hwangbo belatedly noticed Zhuge’s movement. “You anchovy! What are you doing to the injured man!”

When Hwangbo shouted, Yeon Mujin turned his head—and by the time their gazes met, Zhuge’s blade had already reached dangerously close.

In that instant Yeon Mujin saw a smile in Zhuge’s eyes. He must not be hit—Zhuge was aiming for something.

It was purely instinct.

‘He hit me!’

At the moment Zhuge felt certain, Yeon Mujin’s feigning hand moved.

“…!”

Zhuge distinctly saw Yeon Mujin’s hand slither up his arm like a snake.

‘Capturing Hand!’

And it wasn’t just any Capturing Hand; it was an elevated version he’d never seen before. If gripped like that, he’d drop his fan.

Panicked, Zhuge pushed the blade all the way through and pressed the button to trigger a trap. He thought only that if he could touch it—or if it even grazed—he could poison him.

“What on earth is this bastard plotting?” Yeon Mujin’s low voice could be heard.

Crack!

Pain seized Zhuge’s arm as it was twisted. Before he could cry out, a foreign sensation spread through him.

He staggered back two steps, his wrist sprained.

Zhuge looked down at his right arm where the pain radiated. The wrist pain wasn’t the real issue.

A thin needle at the touch point had embedded itself in his arm.

Zhuge couldn’t believe it.

“Huh?”

This shouldn’t be happening.

This can’t be stabbed here.

Zhuge’s face drained to an ashen color.

“Oh no…!”