Jin Baek descended from the training ground with a blank expression, as if he had not yet fully woken from sleep.
What I had shown him was nothing extraordinary. Each move, taken individually, was quite basic.
However, when all of them were laid out together, their meaning shifted slightly.
One must be able to wield the necessary sword at the necessary moment.
This was the principle that formed the foundation of my martial art, and for Jin Baek, who had mastered the Nine Palace Divine Walk Sword Art, capable of linking countless techniques in countless ways, it would prove to be a rather useful piece of advice.
As I sheathed my sword with a lighter heart, only then did the murmuring around me begin to reach my ears.
"He looks about the same age as Baek, so how could he…?"
"They said they heard the Elder's words, but to think it would come to this."
"Is there even a Second Generation Disciple who could do that?"
The voices came from the Zhongnan Sect disciples who had been watching the sparring match. Well, from their perspective, it must have been baffling.
From what I had learned while looking around the Zhongnan Sect so far, the Third Generation Disciples were mostly still teenagers, generally at the Third-Rate to Second-Rate level.
In other words, they were around my age, which was probably why Jin Baek had stepped forward.
The Second Generation Disciples were in their twenties to thirties, mostly first-rate, with a few boasting martial levels at the Peak Realm… but compared to the level I had achieved before my regression, they were still woefully lacking.
To those who didn't know the secret of my regression, I must have seemed utterly incomprehensible.
…Well, that aside, did this mean the sparring match was over here?
That last bout was only so awkward because I was trying to teach Jin Baek something. Against a Second Generation Disciple, I was confident I could hold back and give them a proper sparring match.
And so I waited with an eager heart… but no one stepped forward. My spirits dampened, and I was just about to leave the training ground when—
"Heh heh. Didn't I tell you? This young hero is far stronger than you lot imagined."
Third Elder Jeon Il-bi, who had been serving as referee, approached and grabbed my shoulder, speaking to the disciples around us.
His grip was firm, as if telling me not to leave just yet. I stopped, wondering what he wanted, and the Third Elder let out a small chuckle.
"First, let me thank you. I didn't expect you to go that far. That Baek kid will grow tremendously from this opportunity."
"It wasn't anything intentional. It just happened that way."
"Oh, don't be so modest. Isn't this a good thing? It's sad to see the people you've spent a lifetime with leave one by one, but watching young children like these forge new bonds is always a great joy and reward."
"…Why are you suddenly being so modest?"
"I'm saying this because I hope Zhongnan can become a good connection for you all."
"It seems like more than enough already."
"I've heard some things from that friend, Gwiyeong Sin-tu, over the past few days. There are things I sense with my Qi Sense, and things I've just seen with my own eyes. I suspect that no matter who from this gathering faces you, this sparring match won't satisfy you."
"It's not to that extent."
"You say that, but you must not have been satisfied. Don't worry. I have my reasons."
"I really am fine."
Even when it was said that the sparring would be purely a contest of sword art, I had never once thought there would be a disciple-level opponent who could match me in an exchange.
At best, I'd be a senior disciple who had been selected as the next Sect Leader and was currently learning the Flowing Cloud Sword Technique. Or perhaps one of the elders.
That was the level of martial achievement I had reached in my previous life. Though in this place, there were only second-generation disciples at most.
In any case, I had known the situation well from the start, so I had long since given up any expectation of an even sparring match. But then.
"As I see it, the disciples of Zhongnan are not lacking in the least. It's just that you possess talent that surpasses your age. Am I wrong?"
"That praise is a bit heavy to bear."
"Even so, you have shared a portion of your martial arts with the disciples of Zhongnan. Even knowing that it brings you no benefit at all."
"I have received much from Zhongnan as well, so wouldn't it be a matter of face to return at least some of it?"
"Heh heh. Did you just say face? That goes for me as well. How would it look for Zhongnan's face if I treated a young hero who still has a long way to go before the Age of Twenty so harshly?"
Elder Sam said that in a loud voice, loud enough for everyone around to hear.
I tilted my head, wondering what he was getting at, when Elder Sam, still wearing that grinning expression, said something I hadn't expected.
"So this time, I'd like to be your opponent."
"…What?"
"Just as you did for that Baek kid, I'm saying I'll give you something as well. It seems I'm the only one here who can do that."
"Are you serious?"
"Of course. Honestly, everyone said it so calmly that it passed by at the time, but I was secretly curious. Whether a young hero this young could really possess that level of martial arts."
A sparring match between rising talents and a sparring match with an elder are different in their gravity. That's why I hadn't expected anything from the start.
But now. Third Elder Jeon Il-bi had brought up a sparring match with me.
The gloom that had been weighing on my heart dissolved in an instant, and anticipation began to fill my chest.
"Let's do it right now."
"You could at least pretend to decline a little…"
Third Elder let out a disbelieving chuckle as he took his place across from me and drew the sword from his waist.
Sreung.
The scabbard was worn with age, the hilt completely worn down—a pitiful sight. But the blade itself gleamed with a sharp, freshly-honed edge.
A well-maintained sword. At the same time, proof that he hadn't neglected his martial training until recently.
I likewise drew my sword and took my stance, and Third Elder spoke.
"I'll yield three seconds."
"I won't decline."
The moment I answered, I kicked off the ground.
Pah-ahng!
Beyond the explosive use of internal energy, I actually created a small detonation near the Yongcheonhyeol point to produce a sudden burst of acceleration.
With a loud noise, the ground was slightly gouged out, and my body reached top speed in just two steps.
"Hup!"
Using that speed, I closed the distance in an instant. Then, planting my foot firmly, I converted the momentum of my charge directly into force and channeled it into my sword.
A sword strike sweeping upward from a diagonal angle. The blade, carrying the full Principle of Strength, shot toward Jeon Il-bi's chest. But—
Clang!
I was certain I had swung my sword first, yet Jeon Il-bi's blade was a step faster, striking the base of my sword.
What use was it to pour the Principle of Strength into a single point of focus? If the direction wavered, the force carried by the sword scattered in all directions.
He dispersed the force before my sword could complete its full arc. It was a technique I used often myself, but it had been a long time since I'd been on the receiving end.
"That's quite intense."
"And you, elder, are far too fast."
"It's called the Tae-eul Bun-gwang Sword Art. It was created back when Mount Zhongnan was still called Mount Tae-eul, and it's one of the martial arts that has been passed down to this day."
"Is it really all right to tell me something like that?"
"This isn't a life-and-death duel, just a sparring match, so of course it's fine. It's only a martial art's name, after all."
Jeon Il-bi shrugged his shoulders. He spoke lightly, but just because it was a mere name didn't mean it could be taken lightly.
After all, the name of a martial art often contained its true essence.
The speed from a moment ago. And judging by the name "Bun-gwang" — a sword that splits light — this was surely a martial art focused on swift swordsmanship. If that was the case, what I had to do was simple.
Thud!
I stamped my foot once more and raised my sword. This time, it wasn't to make use of the force rising up through the stamp.
Simply to make my center of gravity even more solid.
With my lower body firmly planted, I swung the sword vertically. Heavily. Heavier still.
So that even if his sword came at me with blinding speed, I could push back against it. A strike where I didn't concentrate my power into the blade, but into my entire body as I swung.
By nature, what is fast tends to be light, and what is light cannot overcome what is heavy.
Unless it cuts before being cut.
Thud!
A dull sound. This time too, Jeon Il-bi's sword had aimed for the base of my blade, but he failed to scatter my strength against that weight. Instead.
Shrrrk-
With our swords pressed against each other, I let the blades slide smoothly and twist the trajectory of my sword, naturally brushing past Jeon Il-bi and driving the blade into the ground.
…Just as I expected.
A martial artist of his caliber should be able to handle this much with ease. And since he was currently letting my three seconds pass without interference, there was practically only one option left for him. To let it flow past smoothly.
I curl the corners of my mouth up into a grin and take a large step forward. Deep enough to stand right before Jeon Il-bi's nose.
A distance fit for a fist, not a sword. I adjust my grip on the sword and twist my body.
With the blade held level with the ground, I thrust the pommel end of the sword toward Jeon Il-bi's solar plexus. At this close a range, even if he swung his sword, he wouldn't be able to block it in time.
"Hah!"
Jeon Il-bi let out a sigh and finally retreated a large step backward, swinging his sword. Not to knock my sword away, but to keep me from giving chase.
Swish.
Jeon Il-bi's sword slices off a portion of my bangs. I had taken a step forward, a stance that allowed me to lunge at any moment or swing horizontally from where I stood, yet I stopped in place—that was why.
In the end, Jeon Il-bi, who had failed to fully withstand the three seconds and had swung his sword at me, shook his head as if he found it absurd.
"This is ridiculous. I've been swinging a sword for decades, and what is this?"
"It seems I've only been granted this one technique so far. Would you mind if I asked for one more?"
"Hah! There's no more. Enough, come at me properly!"
"Oh dear. What a pity."
Even as he grumbled, an irrepressible smile hung at the corners of Jeon Il-bi's mouth. I probably wore a similar expression myself.
After a round of laughter, we both composed ourselves. Once more, we pointed our swords at each other. And then—
Swish!
This time, it was Jeon Il-bi who moved first. His long beard flowing behind him, he carried the air of an immortal, yet what he held in his hand was a sharp blade.
Whiiish!
The sword swung at a speed that was hard to track with the eyes. Its Aura was different from when he had calmly received my attacks.
It felt as though he intended to cut me down without giving me any chance to respond. However, the movement itself seemed to be adjusted to my level—it wasn't so fast that I could do nothing at all.
I stared straight at the sword flying toward my chest, then took half a step back and twisted my body.
The blade grazed past my front by a hair's breadth. Seizing the opening that had momentarily appeared, I thrust my sword forward.
A thrust, not a slash. If it misses, it's hard to recover one's stance, but it's the sword that reaches its target fastest.
The moment the flying sword was about to touch Jeon Il-bi's shoulder—
Clang!
A diagonal flash, drawn abruptly, struck my sword head-on.
"What the—?"
Instead of pulling back the sword that had just missed, he'd spun his body in the direction of the thrust and swung around even faster?
I was momentarily flustered—was it even possible to execute such a large movement with no preparation, this quickly?
"Ah."
That was the Zhongnan martial arts I had seen all along.
The linking of techniques I had thought impossible. I felt like I had caught a glimpse of how extraordinary it was when executed by the hands of a high-level martial artist.
Unlike me, who swung my sword at the right time and place, this was a martial art where every sword strike became a blow that split the right time and place itself.
"Hah!"
A laugh burst out of me on its own at a perspective so similar to mine, yet so vastly different.
"…You. You're the type who can laugh like that?"
Jeon Il-bi blinked with a sour expression, though.
That's too much.