Seol Lihyang, filled with tension, stepped forward with stiff movements before the opponent.

It seemed that fighting in a Battle against another person—especially in front of such a large audience—was impossible for her to ignore.

With Seol Lihyang’s skills, she really had no reason to be this nervous.

As I shook my head, Tang Sowol, still perched on my shoulder, waved her hand enthusiastically.

“Lihyang!”

She didn’t say Good luck or anything of the sort—just called her name and waved.

Seol Lihyang reflexively turned at the sound, her face momentarily blank as she looked at Tang Sowol. Then, as if something clicked, she broke into a bright smile and waved back.

Lowering her head, she suddenly smirked and glanced at Seo Mun-Hwarin, who had moved close to her side.

“You see? She responds just fine. Are we really that embarrassing?”

“Well, I’m already feeling plenty embarrassed, so I was hoping you’d just pretend not to notice.”

“Oh dear, and here I thought we’d grown at least a little closer. It seems I was mistaken.”

“T-That’s not the issue at all!”

Seo Mun-Hwarin puffed up her cheeks, clearly holding back words she wanted to say, only to deflate them moments later.

She was the type of person to react this strongly to even something so minor.

I couldn’t help but wonder—if she made it to the main tournament and had her identity exposed before the entire Murim Alliance, how would she even handle it?

As I let out a deep sigh, Seol Lihyang, now visibly calmer, took the pojun stance before the opponent.

“I look forward to your guidance.”

“Hmm! By the way, miss, are you also part of this group?”

“These people are far beyond someone like me.”

With those brief words exchanged, the two assumed their stances.

It seemed that the opponents were rotated out when they became too exhausted, but since Seo Mun-Hwarin had ended her match before the opponent could even attempt anything, this one was continuing on.

Both were first-rate martial artists, but the opponent had likely reached that level over the course of a decade or more—he was a seasoned warrior with extensive combat experience.

Seol Lihyang, on the other hand, had advanced rapidly in a short period of time. She had barely even dueled against anyone outside the Tang Clan, let alone experienced real combat.

On paper, she was at a serious disadvantage.

But I didn’t think so.

Yes, Seol Lihyang had only trained in martial arts for three years. Even with her best weapon—the whip—she hadn’t yet reached a first-rate level of mastery.

However, when it came to handling internal energy, her talent was second to none—even compared to the other geniuses I knew.

And now, she had fully mastered an advanced internal technique—Glacial True Qi, a force as cold and piercing as pure Yin energy itself.

With that much of a gap, she had more than a fighting chance.

Ignoring Seo Mun-Hwarin’s not-so-threatening glare, I focused entirely on Seol Lihyang.

Taking a half-step forward, she swung her whip in a wide arc.

“Hup!”

Her movements were fluid, as if the whip were an extension of her arm, undulating like a rippling wave.

Sswaeek!

At first, the whip’s trajectory followed a smooth curve, but then, in an instant, it lashed out with explosive speed—so fast it became nearly invisible—striking straight at the opponent.

A solid attack.

But not enough to shake a seasoned warrior.

Calmly, the opponent extended his spear, letting the whip wrap around it.

Papack!

The whip coiled tightly around the shaft, but instead of resisting, the opponent smoothly rotated the spearhead in the same direction.

It was a textbook demonstration of Barrier Seizing Strike—one of the fundamental techniques of spearmanship.

Then, he swung his arm outward with force.

With the spear already spinning and entangling more of the whip than Seol Lihyang had intended, an outward swing only intensified the pull.

“Ugh!”

Instead of pulling him, she was the one being pulled off balance.

Though she managed to keep hold of her weapon, the sheer difference in physical strength—and in external martial arts training—made the outcome obvious.

If this continued, she would either lose her grip on the whip or have her stance completely broken.

Even though this was just a Battle and not an actual fight, that would be enough to call the match.

Her first strike had been fierce enough that she would still receive a decent evaluation.

But if Seol Lihyang was the type to settle for decent, she wouldn’t have reached mid-first-rate in just three years—nor would she be this tense over a mere preliminary match.

The feigned panic in her eyes suddenly sharpened.

Now, it was the opponent’s turn to be surprised.

Unlike hers, his reaction was genuine.

“Binggong…!”

His eyes widened as he readjusted his grip on the spear.

At some point, the entire shaft—along with the whip wrapped tightly around it—had turned an eerie white, coated in frost.

If this continued, it wouldn’t take long for the Glacial True Qi to seep through the weapon and reach his hands.

Determined not to let that happen, the opponent gritted his teeth and began to squeeze every last bit of internal energy from his core.

But neutral, orthodox internal energy was poorly suited to counteracting Seol Lihyang’s Yin-based force, which spread like piercing needles through every opening.

In the end, all he could do was pour out twice as much energy as her to purge the encroaching cold and forcibly shake off the whip.

His robes fluttered wildly from the sheer surge of energy, and the spear trembled in his hands.

He was likely already preparing to rotate out after this match.

Perhaps that was why—so focused on concentrating his energy—he failed to notice when Seol Lihyang’s lips parted.

“Puff—”

It wasn’t exactly a song.

Just a single sustained note, drawn out in her clear, pleasant voice.

Yet, imbued within it, her internal energy slipped into the opponent’s ears.

“…Tch!”

Caught in the midst of channeling energy into his spear, the opponent had left his body’s circulation vulnerable.

Now, his muscles locked up, freezing stiff.

If this continued, he would either succumb to the Glacial True Qi spreading from the spear or suffer internal injuries from the Yin energy seeping in through the sound.

In the end, he was forced to release his grip on the spear, redirecting all his energy inward to force out the invading chill.

With a complicated expression, he finally spoke.

“That’s enough! The Battle ends here. I concede.”

“OK.”

“This was quite an eye-opening experience. Now I truly understand why Yang Energy Techniques and Yin-Cold Techniques are considered so dangerous.”

“Th-Thank you!”

As soon as the Battle ended, Seol Lihyang dropped the frosty, razor-sharp expression she had worn moments ago and respectfully performed a pojun bow.

The moment she lifted her head, she sprinted toward us and began bouncing excitedly in front of Tang Sowol and me.

“Sister Tang! Sister Tang…!”

She clearly wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Tang Sowol, watching her with a gentle gaze, finally spoke.

“You did well, Lihyang.”

“Yes!”

“I hate to interrupt while you’re still riding the high, but could we perhaps continue this conversation after you get off my shoulders?”

“You really have no sense of timing, you know. At a moment like this, you should at least say a few words of praise to Lihyang.”

“Yeah, yeah! Hurry up and praise me! Say I was amazing! Tell me I did well!”

I glanced at Seo Mun-Hwarin, wondering if I was the one in the wrong here, but she was too busy stifling her laughter to offer any help.

In the end, I took a deep breath and gave Seol Lihyang the response she wanted.

“…Alright, alright. You did well.”

“That was so half-hearted! Do it again!”

“In a Battle, countering an incoming whip by slicing through it or wrapping it around your own weapon to disarm the opponent is the standard response. Using that knowledge to channel Glacial True Qi into the weapon was a clever move.”

“More!”

“Concealing a portion of your strength to lure an opponent into complacency is a fundamental survival skill in the Martial World. Today, you proved yourself as a true martial artist—beyond any doubt.”

“Ooooh! What else?!”

Her eyes sparkled playfully as she waited for more. I simply stared at her for a moment before shaking my head.

“…Leaving right now wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

I turned around with Tang Sowol still on my shoulders. In a panic, she reached down and tugged at my hair.

“Brother Cheon? You’re not seriously planning to go all the way back to the inn like this, are you…?”

“Cheon Hwi? Hey! Come on, just say it one more time! That’s all I’m asking! Are you really leaving?”

Instead of answering, I simply kept walking.

After all, I wasn’t the type to fight battles I knew I couldn’t win.

***

After returning to the Golden Flower Inn, it seemed our eccentric display had sparked some rumors.

Not that it mattered.

Everyone had passed the preliminaries, so now there was nothing left to do but wait for the main tournament to begin.

Although I wasn’t quite as eager as Seo Mun-Hwarin, I had high expectations for the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering as well.

It was a rare opportunity to observe countless martial arts styles in one place—and, more importantly, to study techniques from orthodox sects that I was unfamiliar with.

My approach to martial arts was simple: gather and refine. By analyzing various techniques, incorporating their strengths, and adapting them to suit me, I gradually evolved my own style.

For someone like me, the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering was nothing short of a grand feast.

And I wasn’t the only one anticipating it.

Before I left the Tang Clan, Tang Jincheon had mentioned that, due to the rules of the competition, there had never been a Dragon and Phoenix Gathering champion from the Tang Clan.

The Tang Clan frequently produced Dragon and Phoenix titleholders, but never a winner.

It wasn’t a matter of pride or reputation—but still, the fact that they had placed such high expectations on me was undeniable.

Tang Sowol and Seol Lihyang, too, harbored their own hopes.

They were already debating how they should introduce me to their close acquaintances after the tournament ended.

However, for me, there was something even more important.

Seo Mun-Hwarin.

I couldn’t allow her to walk the path of the Black Lotus Sect in this lifetime.

I knew too well how much she had longed for a normal life, even in her final moments.

Seo Mun-Hwarin had left something behind—something that had traveled through time and still lived on inside me.

How could I possibly stand by and do nothing?

Even as I swung my sword in practice and circulated my qi, my mind churned endlessly with possibilities.

No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop the inevitable meeting between Seo Mun-Hwarin and the Murim Alliance Leader.

Who was I to ask the Murim Alliance Leader to delay his arrival by a few days?

And I certainly couldn’t stop Seo Mun-Hwarin herself.

I had already tested the waters by bringing up the topic indirectly.

Her response had been clear—she was willing to take the risk.

She saw this Dragon and Phoenix Gathering as her chance to forge a new path.

Like most martial artists, once she had made up her mind, there was no turning back.

Even if I revealed that I knew her true identity…

Even if I told her she would definitely be exposed…

Nothing would change.

Because she had already made peace with the possibility.

The goal was clear. The conditions were set.

There was little I could do.

To gain something, one must either wield overwhelming strength or sacrifice something else.

And so, I made my choice.

***

Perhaps it was fate.

My first opponent was Seo Mun-Hwarin.

Her white hair swayed in the wind as I gazed at her.

Then, in a quiet whisper, I sent a sound transmission directly to her.

“White-Haired Rakshasa, Seo Mun-Hwarin. Kidnap me.”

This was the best plan I could come up with.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep