Chapter 224

The Martial World Tournament was underway, and the members of the Half-Sword Couples Association sneaked their way to Muchen Pavilion.

The inaugural president was Seomun Qing, who had unknowingly found herself crowned with the title after the group formed chaotically.

“Wait a second, isn’t the Half-Sword Couples Association just the Sword Users Association? Why are we pretending the sword users are backing down?”

“Well, if someone hears about it who doesn’t know, they’ll say the sword comes first, right? We all agreed to put the half-sword first because we don’t want to explain a name that’s embarrassing to disclose.”

“What? You mean the Half-Sword Couples Association is ashamed?”

The members nodded calmly, realizing that the name was already a joke about teasing each other’s weapons, so embarrassment was expected.

After all, it’s childish for a warrior to belittle their opponent’s weapon.

Anyway, the Martial World Tournament wasn’t exactly appealing to Qing’s friends.

With the unapproachable Most Handsome Man (no friends) and the friendless Pang Choryeo who wasn’t even in it for the ratings.

And then there’s the Swordmaster who’d rather swing a sword one more time than frolic around in the tournament (no friends), plus Gongson Yo-ye, who also had no friends and a bad temper like Tang Nan-ah.

Thinking about it, Qing realized that one by one, her friends all had their quirks that made them friendless.

Thus, it was her fate to be the one with plenty of friends to lead these loners.

The only one she struggled to spot was Je-gal Lee-hyun.

He was an extroverted muscular man who thrived on socializing, always mingling and soaking up every story he could find.

Over the past four days, they had trained together, shared meals, and even adventured by night, maintaining a camaraderie unlike any other.

Before she knew it, four days flew by, and the day of the much-anticipated Sleeper’s Martial Arts Tournament arrived.

During those days, Qing had been wearing what felt like a hundred uncomfortable layers, her skin swollen and red from the constant friction, but fortunately, her superhuman resilience meant it wasn’t damaged.

As Cheon Yu-hak said, you get used to the pain. So while it still hurt, it became more tolerable to the point she felt a weird sort of comfort.

It was like the pleasure of scratching a mosquito bite until it bruises or nervously hovering over a healing scab just to feel a the rush of it with some satisfaction.

But at the tournament, Qing had to wear the Divine Maiden Sect robe that marked her identity, so she wrapped her limbs tightly and cinched her waist with a broad belt.

And then, oh man, was it suffocating!

Feeling all wrapped up like a cramped sausage, she could barely catch a breath.

So, what can you do? She resolved to adapt quickly.

—-

The Sleeper’s Martial Arts Tournament had been full of twists and turns.

The outlaws, or more commonly, the Independent Warriors were thriving beyond belief.

Among the qualifiers, there were thirteen independent warriors, and ten made it to the thirty-two remaining, making for quite the splash among the thirty-two final contestants.

Thanks to that, there were quite a few spectators who’d lost everything in their betting frenzy, even taking out loans to gamble.

But betting on wins and losses was legally recognized by the National Law and permitted by the Martial Alliance; ultimately, the responsibility rested on those greedy souls who’d risked it all for a quick win.

After all, as long as the profits were distributed fairly, someone’s tears were bound to translate into another’s fortune.

And the surprises kept coming, with three Independent Warriors battling right in front of Qing advancing to the main event.

There’s the one using the advanced techniques, Ma So-hyeop, and the chair-sitting Wang So-hyeop, plus, whoever that was- who knows.

After watching the matches, Qing frowned.

What’s going on? What have they been up to for the last four days to turn into worse people?

Comparing to four days back, the Independent Warriors’ misdeeds flared up about thirty points.

Could they possibly have grouped up to commit acts of evil together?

But there wasn’t any new news, and surely the top-notch masters swarming in this Gaebong District weren’t up to no good.

Once Qing moved to the waiting area, a loud huff caught her attention.

She cautiously responded, “Yes, I’ve been good. How about you, Young Lady Mo Yong?”

“Hmph. Why are you acting like we’re close?”

But since she hadn’t started the petty squabble, she must have absorbed the advice Qing had given her: no need to provoke others if it’ll only highlight your emptiness.

After staring disinterestedly for a moment, Mo Yong shot back with a wicked smile.

“Hey, Young Lady, if you win, you know you’re facing me, right? Don’t lose to some random opponent and come face me with your skills. It’d be boring to just win, let’s put something on the line!”

“Mo Yong, I don’t have any grudges left. In the end, in old sayings, it’s the one who strikes first that loses sleep.”

“……?”

Mo Yong froze for a moment.

Wasn’t it the opposite way in the old sayings?

But the old phrase saying the one who struck can sleep easy while the one who got hit tosses and turns is strange.

Typically, the striker forgets quickly and enjoys life while the struck remains bitter and sleepless.

“Ha, well I still have grievances, so I’ll be putting a wager down. If Young Lady Seomun loses, you have to reveal your face in front of the crowd!”

“Um, why should I?”

“Why, don’t you lack confidence?”

Qing couldn’t hold back a laugh.

What childish provocation was this?

“Well, if it’ll lighten your heart, then sure, I’ll accept. Is that settled?”

In any case, Qing didn’t stand to lose anything.

Winning was all there was to it.

Even if, by some fluke or twist of fate, she were to lose, revealing her face would be no big deal.

In the waiting area, the other contestants watched Mo Yong with a not-so-kind gaze.

“Oh, come on! Always playing the villain…! Just wait! I’ll wipe that smirk off your face!”

Mo Yong huffed angrily and hurried off, likely to take a spot under the martial stage to avoid any discomfort.

Unfortunately, the fierce duel between the two prideful young ladies wasn’t meant to be.

Mo Yong, in a fit of anger, faced a shocking loss to an Independent Warrior in the next match.

Qing could only shake her head in disbelief.

What? She called for a match, only to lose and back off?

What is this? Is this that noble death or something?

Then it was Qing’s turn.

Having become familiar with the path to the stage, she gracefully floated upward again, landing in the arena as the crowd roared in jubilation.

– Here comes the Swordmaster!

– Whoa! Ugly girl! Show your real face already!

– Now that you’re facing me, do your best! An ugly girl should know how to wield a sword, right?

With her superhuman hearing, she picked up some of the not-so-kind remarks.

Hmm. Should she just throw the match?

But why bother fighting the audience?

Qing shrugged off the negativity and focused on her opponent.

With a sin score of ninety-six. Wow, cutting it close.

Just five points higher would have meant a guaranteed kill.

Not knowing Qing was plotting something sinister, her opponent took a polite stance.

“I am Dorai-man from Sincheon. I have mastered the Dan Yang swordsmanship.”

“I am Seomun Qing, disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect. Apart from the Divine Maiden Sword and Moon Lady Sword, I’ve learned several miscellaneous techniques.”

In fact, she didn’t have the left hand to spare for martial arts, regardless of how much she could argue about it.

It felt awkward using either the Supreme Hand-to-Hand Combat or the Demonic Arts directly. The Martial Art of Stealth was a secret.

The Buddha’s Physical Body was simply too deadly; it could either unleash devastating power or blow her body apart—either was a bit much.

Using two weapons was tricky too, seeing as the art of weaponry counted as a martial technique as well, so doing so would guarantee failure with two swords would be impossible against any opponent.

Just look at Mo Yong, who had a well-known dual sword style had already shown her limitations, leaving Qing to think they could have clashed successfully.

“Since your realm is not low, I’ll let you attack first. Come on.”

“I won’t decline then.”

Dorai-man nodded appreciatively and charged forward.

Whoa! Fast!

Before she could blink, his technique had reached full draw.

Qing, taken by surprise, dropped into a kneeling plank as a swift flurry of strikes went slicing past her.

In a flash, she kicked off, flipping onto her hands, spinning two complete rotations before landing back on her feet.

Now Dorai-man was launching up high above her.

She began to step back in coordination, only to have six copies of herself appear and dash behind the Independent Warrior.

The spectators in the front row, overseeing the match from the main hall, sprang up, yelling in unison.

“Nengpa Mibo!”

Meanwhile, Qing was in a deep reflection.

Wow, seriously fast.

Among all the warriors she had faced, this guy was top-notch, probably the fastest yet.

So this is what they mean when they say the martial world is wide…

Qing had overlooked the Independent Warriors, but after a brief moment of conceding, she had been nearly struck down and brought to shame.

As she quickly turned around, Dorai-man too locked onto her position.

It was clear the characteristic of the Martial Art of Stealth was purely escapism.

Dorai-man’s martial arts were purely aggressive.

With speed as his foundation, his strikes had the destructive force one could only imagine.

But now she knew his speed.

This was all raw power, with brutal speed and precise strikes that had no flair, he followed a linear path which meant his moves were now predictable.

Yet with skill so honed, yet being careless would have been fatal to her.

Qing wasn’t the kind of fighter who easily backed down.

Holding her sword with both hands, she whipped it upward, “Clang!” as steel met steel and sent Dorai-man flying into the air.

In theory, there aren’t many sword techniques that strike upwards from below.

Going against nature to slash upwards takes far more force than the vice versa.

But once you have that strength, there’s nothing more devastating.

Having leveraged the physics of force and reaction, Qing passed the landing crash into Dorai-man, sending him away.

Now this was her deal. No mercy for ten matches!

Listening to her master, Qing, bewildered by the way he floated in the air, chose not to chase after her opponent.

Seeing him land two steps away, Dorai-man raised his left hand in front of his solar plexus, signaling his gratitude.

Qing stiffened in confusion.

What’s going on? Why is he being polite? He’s not a bad guy, is he?

But what about his sin level?

Dorai-man wore a relaxed expression.

Realizing the gap between them from the last round, his urge to fight ceased, and he merely aimed to showcase all that he could.

Thus, Dorai-man shifted his combat style.

The raw speed he previously deployed faded into a more solid, methodical advance, plodding forward with a steady gait.

But at intervals, he would suddenly accelerate, which was quite threatening. Yet Qing, being respectful of her opponent, would manage just fine.

As the matches rolled on into the eleventh round, the energy swirling like the sun began to carve a massive semi-circle towards Qing’s neck.

At that moment, Qing’s sword danced gracefully, nearly touching under Dorai-man’s chin.

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