Chapter 220

The schedule involved sixty-four competitors, with twenty-four advancing through the preliminaries and forty more entering the finals due to recommendations from Zhengpai.

Today was the first match for Group One and Group Three, which meant waiting for my turn while the nonsense unfolded in front of me.

I intended to ask Cheon Yu-hak about whether the side effects were a bit too severe or if there were other methods, but those thoughts were pushed aside.

Lady, Master, where on earth are you?

I had definitely heard murmurs about selling medicinal tonics, so they had to be at the market, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they would sell out completely with that peculiar and shady business of theirs.

So here I was, feeling quite impatient while watching these mediocre fighters battle it out.

Well, it is entertaining, I suppose…

Honestly, low-tier fighters are often more fun to watch than high-level ones.

Because while you can’t quite grasp what’s happening in a skilled fight, a low-tier brawl is straightforward and thrilling enough to hold your attention.

Oh look, there’s Ma So-hyeop from the Jidang Sect!

The master of Jidang Sect, Ma So-hyeop, was crawling on the ground while facing off against the disciple from the Gi-yang Sect, Chae So-hyeop.

Usually, crawling like that would suggest a losing fight, but being a master of Jidang meant Ma So-hyeop was actually in control.

The poor Gi-yang disciple was floundering around, clearly clueless on how to attack an opponent who was crawling below the knees.

I mean, there won’t be any martial art tactics for dealing with someone who’s literally crawling under the knees, right?

Eventually, Ma So-hyeop slithered like a snake and seized Chae So-hyeop’s ankles, twisting and pinning him down.

Chae So-hyeop struggled to escape but could only stifle his screams of pain from the pressure that felt like his bones might snap.

The judge from the Martial Alliance watched the Gi-yang disciple’s attempts to break free a few times before quickly making a ruling.

This was no biased judgment; he just wanted to see if there was any chance of escape after being pinned.

“Winner! Ma So-hyeop of the Divine Maiden Sect!”

Cheers erupted from the spectators.

Ma So-hyeop waved happily, while the poor Gi-yang disciple shuffled away with his head hung low.

He should at least have managed to look somewhat competent in the martial arts competition, but considering his opponent was Ma So-hyeop, that became impossible.

“Tsk, tsk. How pathetic. How’s that kid supposed to show his face around here? But I can’t exactly tell Ma So-hyeop to hold back either.”

Seomun Sulin commented with a hint of pity.

Previously, Seomun Sulin had advised that despite how pitiful the opponent might be, everyone deserves a chance to show their skills, even if they can’t settle life-and-death matches.

Winning isn’t worth much if it’s just showing off that you can crawl well, while the loser ends up being labeled inept.

Even if you win, there’s little to gain, and on top of that, the Gi-yang disciple will likely hold a grudge against Ma So-hyeop.

That’s why many in the martial world avoid the Divine Maiden Sect; their shortcomings are always visible.

The competition continued, featuring some familiar faces. Gongson Yo-ye easily defeated Sang Baek-song from Seo Cheon Academy, and Je-gal Lee-hyun knocked out some Qinghai dude with his iron chain.

Soon, it was Qing’s turn.

The Martial Alliance warrior overseeing the proceedings directed Qing to the waiting room.

The waiting room was a boat docked at the arena, and the moment Qing entered, a derisive snicker echoed around.

It was less of a laugh and more of a loud sniffle, so Qing looked for the source of the noise.

“Ha! Young Lady Seomun, are you finally showing your true colors? What kind of outfit is that?”

There was only one lady in the world who would dare provoke Qing upon seeing her.

Mo Yong Joo-hee pointed at Qing.

“Seriously, what’s up with that overtly revealing outfit? Trying to flaunt your figure across the Central Plains? You might as well just go out topless at this point!”

Chae-dae refers to a woman’s waist belt. Unlike Qing’s hometown, the Central Plains has so many variations that as long as you wrap something around your waist, it’s called a ‘Chae-dae.’

Qing had wrapped her waist in broad fabric to avoid any skin exposure.

Given that her waist was already slim compared to her otherwise plump figure, the stark contrast made it quite evident.

Qing sighed deeply.

Does she think that’s considered a greeting?

“Isn’t it exhausting to nitpick at every little thing, Young Lady Mo Yong? By saying that, you’re just inviting comparisons. Excuse me, everyone, would you kindly avert your gazes?”

Indeed, others in the waiting room were alternating their looks between Qing and Mo Yong Joo-hee.

“Ugh…”

Mo Yong Joo-hee bit her lip, her face red as she shot daggers at the other competitors waiting for their turn.

They all awkwardly pretended to examine the floor or walls as if looking for peculiar patterns, avoiding the tension.

Just then—

“AHHHHHH!”

“Eeeeeek! AHHHHH!”

Suddenly, horrifying screams erupted from outside the waiting room.

It was a heart-wrenching wail that sounded like someone was tearing their heart out.

The startled competitors scrambled to see what was happening.

Outside, there were—

“AHHHHHH! Young Master Kong! Pang Young Master! Look this way! AHHH!”

“Oki-rin! AHHH!”

“Oh my, our eyes just met! What do I do, ahhhh…”

There were women fainting left and right, overwhelmed by the most handsome man in the world, who could knock them out just by making eye contact.

It seemed like if you were rolling in dirt in rags, that didn’t even touch the fact that their spirits were ruined by the latest scandal surrounding him.

What the… That’s way too much drama…

Qing plopped down into her seat nonchalantly.

Oddly enough, Mo Yong Joo-hee also looked displeased, turning away with a scrunched-up face.

When Qing glanced over, Mo Yong Joo-hee fumed.

“What’s with the attitude? Is it strange that I’m not swooning over the most handsome man in the world? Honestly, it looked pathetic that you were clinging to a man who clearly didn’t want you.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Your eyes told me everything.”

“Can you really see my gaze? Are you some kind of martial arts guru?”

Qing had no idea how that worked, but she had heard that practitioners at the Realm of Transformation could see right through veils.

“Tch.”

Mo Yong Joo-hee turned her head away in disgust as if she didn’t want to waste time on such banter.

Qing didn’t really care, either, so it was whatever. They weren’t going to be stuck together for long anyway.

As they were sitting there, another round of ear-piercing screams resonated from outside.

Having experienced it once, Qing didn’t need to peek to know what had happened.

The mountains must’ve won.

After another round, it was Mo Yong Joo-hee’s turn, and she was ushered out to the corridor, and shortly after, the announcer declared “Victory to Mo Yong Joo-hee!”

And then finally, it was Qing’s turn.

As she made her way through the ship’s interior, crossing a few planks on the deck, then heading inward up the stairs, she found a cloud platform waiting for her.

Everyone was springing up from the ground to attempt a fancy footwork tactic.

With the cloud platform beneath her feet, it should be easy for anyone, even if they weren’t skilled, to hop up at least once.

Using the Moon Lady’s Step, Qing floated lightly onto the competitive stage.

So she elegantly stood, just the tips of her toes touching the ground without a sound.

“I’m Hwan-yuk, disciple of Wudang. I’ve mastered the Taiji Divine Sword and the Veil Technique.”

Then she spread her sword in a half-gesture, showcasing half a technique with her left hand.

Qing responded by demonstrating the basics of the Divine Maiden Sword and the Moon Lady’s Slash.

At that, Hwan-yuk suddenly asked—

“Lady Seomun? Have we met before? You look familiar…”

What does that even mean? What kind of nonsense is this?

Is there some sort of pre-fight psychological tactic in this parallel world too?

Qing wasn’t one to back down.

“Isn’t it inappropriate for a Wudang disciple to make such random comments?”

“Pardon? What do you mean…”

Hwan-yuk blinked, confused—then he got the realization a moment too late.

Saying she looked familiar, when she had her face covered, he’d stumbled into a potential misinterpretation.

It wasn’t that Qing was something outstanding; rather, it was that vexing silhouette of her body he recalled, which was awkward to bring up.

“Sorry about that. Please forget it.”

This guy is clueless, initiating a verbal tussle.

Qing smirked at the absurdity.

Hwan-yuk was probably feeling unfairly distressed since he couldn’t see Qing’s face through the veil.

“I’ll let you go first.”

“No way! I ought to let you go first!”

“Well, if that’s how you feel….”

Given Qing’s position, she wasn’t obliged to greet the Wudang disciples either.

So anyone who had any knowledge of her level would just be some old folks she had met, and if they weren’t from Wudang, they would just see her as the young girl from the Divine Maiden Sect.

Plus, the cunningness of a seasoned master from a prestigious lineage of mentors like Wudang displayed no ostentation in their victories, so Qing felt fine about it.

Without hesitation, she darted forward lightly, and her Master had said that a Wudang’s technique would be gentle.

What exactly were they going to show now?

Qing effortlessly waved her sword.

It was a basic cutting move of the Divine Maiden Sword, a gesture beloved by both Seomun Sulin and herself for its simplicity.

Hwan-yuk met her move with a large circular arc crossing his arm, while his feet created a wide arc.

The heavy iron sword, lifted behind him, smoothly sailed through Qing’s move, causing the momentum to pass without any issue.

So Qing converted her weight along with the push, pivoting seamlessly while facing Hwan-yuk.

This was round one.

Qing mused to herself.

Ah, so that’s how it shifts.

To read an opponent’s attack, you need to watch their eyes; to observe their technique, follow their feet.

Though she wasn’t familiar with the Taiji Divine Sword, the directional flow of movement was distinctly different from what she had encountered before.

The footwork involves positioning oneself in the ideal spot according to the intended thrust of the move, ensuring their weapon has the appropriate leverage.

Nan-goong Shin-jae’s footwork was static for stability rather than relocation.

Pang Choryeo’s footwork was diagonal, perpetually spinning.

And Pang Dae-san’s was marked by significant vertical shifts aimed at maximizing the devastating power of the attack.

Now, Hwan-yuk’s movements were characterized by flowing arcs, drawing large circles from a distance behind her.

Round two, three, four.

Qing kept contemplating.

Is this about angles rather than distances?

The flow intended to redirect outward, trying to force her into a position with heightened aggression. If she followed that pull, she would end up vulnerable to an attack.

Five, six, seven.

His movements mirrored those of a bullfighter.

Constricting the enemy’s motions, dancing aside while looking to climb on his back.

So what do I do now?

Assault aggressively to topple him, entangling him with deceptions leading him down the wrong path or counter with finesse in a whirling maneuver.

Eight, nine, ten.

Gracefully, Qing matched his flow with gentle, yielding movements, parrying his attacks smoothly while lifting her right foot.

And at that moment.

She slammed the lifted foot down hard onto the ground, causing a thunderous BOOM! that reverberated throughout the arena. Instantaneously, Qing’s body lunged forward a step.

With that, a fierce strike came barreling toward her!

Hwan-yuk quickly swung his sword in defense. CLANG! It sounded like metal shattering. In an instant, a shadow fell across Hwan-yuk’s face.

He lifted his gaze, and there, against the sunlit sky in the month of May, a beautifully luminous white hand blocked the light, drawing near.

The sword was merely a bait, and Hwan-yuk realized this too late.

Then, with a sneaky tap.

Qing’s hand struck Hwan-yuk at the crown of his head.

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