"…You. So you're the kind of person who can smile like that?"
"…"
Jeon Il-bi looks at me with a sour expression.
That's too much.
I was momentarily taken aback, but I decided to refute him with my sword rather than words.
Thud!
As my sword is knocked away, I steady my broken stance with a firm step. I raise my sword as if pulling it up through the flow of power that runs from my legs to my waist, then through my back and arms.
"You're certainly impatient."
Jeon Il-bi calmly swings his sword. However, unable to retract his previous strike, his sword still points toward the lower section.
No matter how fast Jeon Il-bi's sword is, and no matter how well he can execute a fitting technique from any stance, it would be difficult to completely block it all.
In the end, I would have no choice but to retreat, and if that happened, he could seize the momentum.
As I ponder what kind of sword strike to follow up with, lost in such thoughts—
Jeon Il-bi's sword rises just as swiftly and taps against the guard of my sword. No, even calling it a "tap" would be wrong.
It would be more accurate to say it simply came and attached itself. From that state continues the Principle of Adhesion.
His sword, clinging tightly to match my movements, twists the direction of my blade without overexerting, yet with certainty.
This was the exact same skill I had shown against Jin Baek in our previous sparring match. However, I had no intention of losing so easily.
Letting out a hollow laugh, I too responded to Jeon Il-bi's movements according to the Principle of Adhesion.
Clang, clang!
Our swords intertwined, slid against each other, and sometimes flipped over.
Sparks flew where the blades met, and a sharp metallic ring echoed through the surroundings.
With only our swords pressed together, our bodies repeatedly drew close and then pulled apart. This was the result of continuously absorbing the twisting flow of force.
It looked as if we were wrestling with our swords locked together, but this did not last long.
After all, if we were to compete in the depth of our Mysteries in this manner, it would be difficult for me, who had picked up bits and pieces here and there, to defeat an elder of the Zhongnan Sect.
Clang!
In the end, my body was sent flying along with a high-pitched sound that rang in my ears.
The sword blade, unable to fully absorb the impact, vibrated wildly. Its humming sound shook my ears in a dizzying manner.
At the same time, Jeon Il-bi rushed forward in large strides as if chasing after me. I had tried to steal his Aura, but it was I who had it stolen instead.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed my sword toward the incoming strike, which I still couldn't see clearly.
Clang!
The exchange that followed was not much different from what had come before.
True to a sparring match that tested only pure sword skill, it was a continuous battle of wits.
My judgment wasn't far behind, and I didn't lack the skill to put it into action.
But the more our swords clashed, the more clearly the difference in depth came through.
We'd seem evenly matched for a moment, then he'd deflect my blade or let it slide past.
A distance that felt just within reach, yet always just out of it. A sword that consistently outclassed mine.
Frustration rose alongside admiration. No matter how I probed for openings or tried to pry gaps into his defense, his sword stance never wavered.
A swift blade like a beam of light, endlessly shifting, riding an unbroken flow.
Even when I boldly pressed in to try to overturn the situation, nothing changed.
…Strictly speaking, it wasn't that my sword couldn't get through at all.
Sometimes I would thrust my sword in at a perfectly timed moment, or cut deep to force him to dodge.
Under normal circumstances, I would have long since severed his Aura, cut off his retreat, and slowly hunted him down like prey until I choked the breath from him.
But none of these attempts could cut through the single Flow that Jeon Il-bi had unfolded, the vast Change he had Cheol draw out.
Even when the Flow was broken, he simply absorbed the break into his own Flow and made it as if it had never happened. What was I supposed to do about that?
In the end, the longer the Exchange continued, the more I was pushed back.
It felt like being trapped in a vast quagmire. And even knowing this, I had no way to escape.
Indeed. Now I understood. The one I was facing was Jeon Il-bi before my eyes, but at the same time, he was not.
A martial art of Zhongnan, begun with the Quanzhen Sect and passed down through the long years.
It was merely a martial art that countless people had practiced, refined, and supplemented over the years, now being unleashed through Jeon Il-bi.
What devoured my sword was not Jeon Il-bi. It was the Zhongnan Sect.
If an Elder is this formidable, then what must the Sect Leader be like… I can't even begin to fathom it.
It's frustrating, but at the same time, exhilarating. I don't know how long it's been since I've devoted myself so purely to the sword.
But well. It's an obvious fact that if things continue like this, the sparring match will end soon. In that case, shouldn't I show something at the very end?
The martial arts of Zhongnan are certainly astonishing… but my sword, and the life I've poured into it, is not so light that it can be easily swept away.
So, just in case there might be any misunderstanding, I decided to say it first.
"I hold no grudge against you, Elder."
"Hm? What do you mean by that all of a sudden?"
"Given the nature of my martial art, I have no choice. Please just take it as that."
I gripped my sword tightly and let loose the killing intent I had been suppressing all this while.
A thick killing intent that blanketed the entire vicinity. An ordinary person would find it hard to even breathe, but to me, it felt like a blocked hole had finally been pierced open—a refreshing sense of liberation washing over me.
"Wha—what is this…!"
Jeon Il-bi was taken aback. However, that lapse did not last long. Since he had heard about me from Gwiyeong Sin-tu, he must have known that I wielded a martial art heavy with killing intent.
Though it seemed he hadn't expected it to be to this degree.
"Sinister indeed. Just who taught you such a sword?"
"No one. If I had to say, the world itself."
"Then what in the world made you like this?"
"That is what I am about to show you."
With my eyes wide open, I charged at Jeon Il-bi. What unfolded from my hand was a vertical slash imbued with the Mystery of the Seen, one I had displayed several times already.
As always, Jeon Il-bi moved to meet my swiftly swung sword and scatter its trajectory to deflect it.
However, this time, the situation was slightly different.
Through the killing intent I had spread around me like a Qi Barrier, I sensed Jeon Il-bi's movements a step ahead and deliberately shook my sword tip, twisting its trajectory ever so slightly.
Naturally, unable to fully bear the weight, its power diminished… but the one trying to deflect it would likewise fail to make use of that same finesse.
KWAANG!
The sword strike I hadn't been able to throw properly and the sword that hadn't been able to deflect it properly clashed, erupting with a loud noise.
In the exchange where I had only repeated dispersing my strength and turning it into martial level, this was the first time we had met head-on.
"Heh…"
Jeon Il-bi, looking at me and his own sword alternately as if he couldn't believe it.
Half a beat late, a tingling shock travels up through my grip. It was a rebound force that, if I made the slightest mistake, would have sent the sword flying from my hand, but I forcibly held onto it.
A slight dampness felt in my palm. Blood must be seeping from the flesh that had been torn open a little.
But it didn't matter.
What mattered wasn't that my sword had hurt me, but that the flustered Jeon Il-bi had, for a brief moment, shown a gap he had never once revealed before.
It was only natural that his stance would falter, since he'd had to block a frontal attack with a sword meant for deflecting.
Of course, even in that disrupted stance, Jeon Il-bi's sword was still fast and sharp.
In an instant, Sword Qi flew toward my face. He was surely planning to use it to keep me from chasing after him and buy himself time to reset his posture.
So instead, I stepped forward. Only, I bent my upper body so deeply that it was nearly parallel to the ground.
The Cheolpangyo I unfolded as I advanced. Even performed normally, it demanded a considerable sense of balance and physical strength, so one small mistake would send me toppling over, having lost my center of gravity.
In other words, as long as I didn't make a mistake, I'd be fine.
Swaek!
The cold blade passed literally right before my nose. Only after the sword swept past did I straighten my back once more.
Using that momentum, I launched a thrust as if bouncing off the ground.
But Jeon Il-bi was not limited to just Sword Art. As if he had been waiting, he unfolded his footwork to a direction my sword could not reach.
Even in the midst of that, Jeon Il-bi's upper body remained steady. Thanks to that, he was able to immediately recover his sword and continue into the next Technique.
A sword strike came charging in from below at a diagonal. Whether I dodged it or blocked it, in the end it would only lead to the same endless chain of swift swordplay as before.
So this time, I neither dodged nor blocked. Instead, I used the bottom of the sword hilt like a hammer and struck down at the incoming blade.
Thwack!
The sword blade, hit by the blunt surface, was driven straight into the ground. If I had been even a moment slower, or had missed the angle, the sparring match would have ended right then and there.
Since it worked, there's no problem. But if I had responded in an ordinary way, I would have only been devoured by the flow that Jeon Il-bi was creating.
So even if it meant taking risks and pushing beyond my limits, I had to deny the sword that Jeon Il-bi wanted.
Denial for the sake of denial alone. To that end, I kept swinging my sword, and sometimes threw my body toward the blade that was swung at me.
An extremely precarious sight. But this is my sword.
It doesn't need to be clean or elegant. No matter what wounds I take, as long as I don't die, it's fine. What matters is killing the opponent before that.
I do take pride in wielding the sword well, but in the end, to me, a sword is just a tool for efficient slaughter.
The seething killing intent naturally began to concentrate toward Jeon Il-bi. At first, as befitting a Transcendent Peak martial artist, he showed little change even under the immense killing intent.
But in the end, as it accumulated, and accumulated again, perhaps it brought confusion to his Qi Sense.
For just a moment—the span of a single blink—Jeon Il-bi's sword wavered.
It wasn't that he faltered, or slowed, or swung toward the wrong place.
It was merely a trace of hesitation etched into the strike itself…
I gritted my teeth and drove into the first real opening Jeon Il-bi had ever shown.
Fiercely. More fiercely still. Like a starving wolf that would die if it didn't tear its prey apart today. Like a mad wolf baring its fangs even when its hide was soaked in blood.
Jeon Il-bi's sword was still so fast it appeared as little more than a glint, and its chain of attacks was endless, without limit.
But I no longer let myself be swept along by it. Even as small wounds accumulated across my body, I thrashed and clawed, desperate to sink my teeth into my opponent's neck by any means.
There was no longer a single great Flow upon this training ground.
There was only the small vortex woven by the endlessly continuing streaks of light, and the fierce gale that surged against it in resistance.
The more I swung my sword, the clearer my mind became.
Only I and the single sword in my hand existed in this world.
How many times did I repeat that, surrendering my body to instinct and swinging the blade?
"Stop!!"
Suddenly, a powerful Sword Qi burst forth from Jeon Il-bi's sword.
The Sword Qi, which would normally have appeared like a heat haze, stacked and stacked again until it looked like a single pillar of flame.
Jeon Il-bi drew a line between himself and me by swinging that great Sword Flame.
Like someone being dragged up from the depths of deep water by their hair, my Concentration shattered in an instant.
My mind, which had been half-lost in the State of No-Self, awakened, and the scenery around me belatedly came into view.
The training ground, silent. Me, covered in wounds. And Jeon Il-bi, whose collar had been lightly grazed.
He pointed at his collar and grinned.
"Let's stop here. Haven't you had enough to be satisfied by now?"
I stared at the sword mark I had left for a moment, then let out a deep breath.
After that, I sheathed my sword and offered a polite fist-and-palm salute.
"I thank you for your guidance."
"Heh heh. It's been a while since I've had this much fun."
And so the sparring match came to an end.
"Young hero Cheon. Would you spare me a moment?"
"…"
Tang So-wol remained, her hand on her hip, staring at me with a look that was half worry, half reproach.