The Pavilion Lord of Plum Blossom appeared with a sword in hand.

As I rose from the table with Sambok’s blade in my hand, the Pavilion Lord halted and spoke.

“Lord of the Sect.”

“Speak.”

After glancing up and down at me, the Pavilion Lord asked,

“Did you borrow that short sword from the man next to you?”

“That’s right.”

“Forgive my impertinence, but is a short sword your main weapon?”

“I’ve practiced longer with a regular sword. I had mine taken from me not long ago.”

The Pavilion Lord stared at me.

“I don’t mind if the Lord of the Sect underestimates me. But is it proper to face me with a weapon you’re unfamiliar with?”

He was asking whether this was in line with the etiquette of a biwu. I looked at the Pavilion Lord’s serious expression and replied,

“I apologize. May I borrow a sword suitable for the duel?”

The Pavilion Lord nodded.

“I’ll bring one.”

It seemed the Pavilion Lord didn’t bother with servants—he went to retrieve a longsword himself.

I looked at my eldest brother with a puzzled expression.

“He made a fair point. I’ve nothing to say. He’s meticulous.”

My eldest brother nodded as well.

Barging in to demand a biwu and choosing any weapon while looking down on the opponent—yes, I had been arrogant.

Still, I didn’t think the Pavilion Lord was a high-level expert. Yet, just as the Lecher had said, he certainly had the aura of a master.

Before long, the Pavilion Lord returned and approached, extending a sword toward me.

“This is the Hangma Sword.”

“Sounds fearsome.”

I drew the sword said to subdue demons and checked the blade. Nothing about it seemed lacking. Its length, weight, and hilt all felt appropriate. But it didn’t look newly forged—it was an old sword that had clearly aged.

The Pavilion Lord pointed with his hand toward a spacious area.

“Let’s go.”

I admired him inwardly.

What an interesting man.

We took some distance, then stood facing each other. Holding his sword, the Pavilion Lord gave a polite bow.

“I hope to learn from you.”

He drew his sword and took a stance.

Since I hadn’t adopted a ready position to begin with, I simply wandered a bit with the sword in my left hand.

The Pavilion Lord asked,

“Are you ready?”

“I was ready the moment I started walking toward you.”

“If you’re not comfortable making the first move, I’ll go first.”

“Let’s do that.”

The Pavilion Lord adjusted his stance twice—raising the sword vertically, then lowering it as he approached.

“......”

He didn’t seem particularly skilled, but he was so earnest that even I couldn’t predict where this duel might go.

Perhaps reading the confusion on my face, the Pavilion Lord said,

“...Do your best.”

I deflected the Pavilion Lord’s sudden thrust with a draw slash.

The Pavilion Lord regained the sword’s trajectory and launched a series of attacks. I kept my left hand sealed and swung the Hangma Sword to parry his blade alone.

I infused my strikes with mokgye energy, and before long, the Pavilion Lord’s face turned bright red.

Every time he blocked my blade, the area below his chin jutted out from clenching his teeth so hard.

Yet his swordsmanship remained calm and consistent.

His posture was imbued with years of deep training.

The sword techniques themselves were impressive.

They had their own feints, transitions, speeding up and slowing down. Each time a cheap trick became visible, I crushed it with raw strength or slapped it aside. Doing so rendered the moves useless.

His footwork was steady, aligned with his sword, and he managed his breathing well in the gaps between movements.

However, it was clear that every time I struck, the strain on his grip made him feel as if his hands were about to split open.

While deflecting his blade, I said,

“My internal energy is deeper. I’d like to continue the duel, so don’t take offense if I suppress my qi.”

The Pavilion Lord nodded.

“I understand.”

He practically squeezed the words out.

Eventually, I lowered my power and began observing his swordplay closely. As his techniques repeated, I grew familiar with them.

Once I completely withdrew my internal energy, the fight became more intense. I could tell he had trained hard in external techniques as well. Now able to breathe, the Pavilion Lord’s face regained color, and he unleashed the techniques he’d practiced so diligently without restraint.

He was an older man than me.

It may be rude to say, but I found the Pavilion Lord rather commendable. It wasn’t that he had no internal energy—just that the gap between us was too great. Still, signs of agonizing training were evident throughout his form.

Since his sword style wasn’t bad, I accepted his entire thirteen-form sequence four times over.

At one point, he pulled back a thrust and raised his sword vertically. With a calm motion, he sheathed his sword and said,

“Thank you for the lesson. I concede.”

I wasn’t surprised—it was what I had expected.

I also sheathed the Hangma Sword and bowed first.

“Pavilion Lord, your swordplay left a strong impression.”

The Pavilion Lord stroked his chin and asked,

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Forgive me, but... which part exactly—ah, let’s talk at the table.”

Even in defeat, the Pavilion Lord didn’t forget his role as host. He gestured courteously.

I nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Wiping sweat from his brow as he walked, the Pavilion Lord sat at the table. Though clearly parched himself, he personally lifted the teapot and poured me water with trembling hands. His palms were red and swollen.

Wow...

I declined to take the cup.

“You drink first.”

The Pavilion Lord, looking awkward with his outstretched hand, ended up drinking it himself. After wiping his mouth, he said,

“My apologies. I should’ve checked for poison first—it's customary.”

Surprised, I replied,

“That wasn’t my intention.”

Truthfully, I wasn’t thirsty.

I hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Now surrounded by our gazes, the Pavilion Lord calmed his ragged breathing. This duel had been one of the most memorable I’d had.

He bowed slightly to my companions, including my eldest brother.

“You must’ve expected a lot. I’m embarrassed. But I gave it my all.”

My eldest brother responded.

“It was a fine display.”

The Pavilion Lord turned to me.

“Ah, forgive me, you mentioned earlier that something about it impressed you...”

“I’ll explain.”

“Please.”

“You used eleven techniques. Two additional ones near the end make it thirteen in total. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“The final two weren’t fully formed. Each time you used them, the intent varied and your target area was unclear. That’s not a major flaw. The real issue lies in the mid-sequence techniques. Don’t they frustrate you?”

The Pavilion Lord nodded.

“I’ve long felt stuck on those techniques.”

“You’re forcibly connecting those forms to the ones before and after. In real combat, there’s no need to follow such rigid order. If you learned from a manual, that’s understandable. But your lack of internal energy makes linking them difficult.”

The Pavilion Lord asked,

“Could you demonstrate?”

I shook my head.

“I will not. This is your sword technique. It may feel disheartening that the root problem is merely a lack of internal energy, but with a bit more qi, you could complete all thirteen forms. Do you know why?”

“Please enlighten me.”

“Because you’ve trained damn hard.”

“Hm.”

“Do you recall what was written at the start of the manual?”

The Pavilion Lord pondered, then answered,

“It says the swordplay only shines after reaching the third stage of the Hyeonhyeon Heart Method.”

“How many stages did you reach?”

“The latter half was lost, so I only mastered the first.”

“Any other internal techniques?”

“I was told to focus on the Hyeonhyeon Heart Method, so I didn’t learn others.”

I asked again, somewhat astonished.

“Just the first stage and external training? That’s impressive.”

“Yes.”

How can someone be this stubborn? No wonder I couldn’t feel any presence—his internal energy was shallow.

“Then how did you become the Greatest Sword of Mount Hua?”

The Pavilion Lord answered,

“I’ve fought twenty duels and never lost. It may be hard to believe, but I’ve faced all kinds of martial artists—some came from far away. I’ve used every weapon you can name.”

I folded my arms, deep in thought.

Talk about good fortune.

This man couldn’t stand a chance against Sambok, the White-Faced Lord, or Lady Cheolseom. Nor could he defeat Cha Seong-tae.

I asked my eldest brother for input.

“Brother.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like you to give him some advice.”

My eldest brother looked at the Pavilion Lord.

“Pavilion Lord.”

“Yes?”

“You’re a frog in a well.”

The Pavilion Lord answered him with formality.

“I’m aware.”

“Then why not seek another internal technique, or travel and share martial knowledge?”

The Pavilion Lord replied,

“I just enjoy training. I’m not sociable, and I’ve heard you get entangled in vendettas when you roam Jianghu. So I kept my distance.”

My eldest brother asked me,

“If advancing from the first stage to the second doubles one’s qi, and from second to third triples it again—if he refines his swordplay further, where would he stand compared to his peers?”

“Still not especially strong...”

My brother continued,

“But if he holds that level of qi and trains the sword techniques he just showed us for ten more years, practicing internal energy in parallel?”

That’s different. He’d still only be in his early forties. But he’s a man with the resolve to refine a swordplay that’s nearly impossible to master with external training alone.

I looked at the Pavilion Lord.

“...Then he would be unmatched on Mount Hua.”

He was someone with the potential to keep growing. My eldest brother nodded and looked at the Pavilion Lord.

“I think so too. I hope this duel helped.”

The Pavilion Lord gave a martial bow, then looked around at us.

“I didn’t just learn a technique—I gained many insights.”

I returned the Hangma Sword to him. The Pavilion Lord set it on the table and asked,

“But the four of you are all rare masters... who exactly are you preparing to fight?”

“We’re going up against the Cult Leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult.”

The Pavilion Lord stared at me in shock. He might not know of Haomun’s Leader, but he clearly knew the Heavenly Demon Cult.

“I’ve heard of him. Hard to believe. They say he’s one of the three strongest under heaven.”

“That’s true.”

“Then just how strong is he? I know it’s a foolish question, but I must ask, having met such rare warriors.”

“Shall I compare him to you, Pavilion Lord?”

“Go ahead.”

I looked at him and answered frankly.

“Let’s say Mount Hua has a mantis—the strongest mantis, undefeated.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s assume it has a hundred victories. But if that mantis gets swatted by a village cat’s paw, it still dies. That’s the difference in level. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Now let’s say that cat was actually an undefeated cat. Never lost in its region. But if it meets a tiger prowling in the hills, it’ll still die with one strike from the tiger’s paw.”

“That makes sense.”

“We three are that tiger. I say this not to boast, but as a metaphor.”

“Then the Cult Leader...”

I described him like this:

“He is like a dragon. Clearly stronger than a tiger—but even a dragon must descend, open its jaws, and bite the tiger to kill it. If unlucky, the tiger might bite first. The difference in levels I mentioned is similar to how people in Jianghu talk about the depth of internal energy. That’s why you must train your internal arts more. A mantis cannot kill a cat. Understand?”

The Pavilion Lord nodded. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

“I understand. I’ll remember this.”

“You’ve yet to bloom, but you too are a man who can become a tiger. I saw that through our duel. Therefore, I will not take the title of the Greatest Sword of Mount Hua.”

The Pavilion Lord looked at me, startled.

Strangely, I felt he was quite suited to the title of Greatest Sword of Mount Hua.

So if I were to put into words what I felt—

He was the man who trained the hardest in Mount Hua.

That alone made him worthy of the title.

I asked my eldest brother for his opinion.

“What do you think?”

My brother looked at the Pavilion Lord and said,

“The title suits him.”

The Lecher blinked as if he didn’t get it, but didn’t speak. Sambok just nodded, as if he had given up on trying to understand.

The Pavilion Lord looked around his estate with a relieved expression, then said to us,

“I’ll offer you the ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ duel grounds. Stay comfortably until then.”

I gave the Pavilion Lord a respectful nod.

“Thank you, Pavilion Lord.”

“When is the duel?”

“It’s not certain. Could be half a year, or maybe a hundred days.”

The Pavilion Lord glanced down, then bit his thumbnail lightly.

“Hm...”

It seemed to be a habit—but if he kept biting like that, there’d be no nail left. I immediately scolded him.

“It’s not proper for a swordsman to bite his nails like that. Break the habit.”

“Ah.”

I turned to the Lecher.

“We stopped eating earlier, and now I’m starting to get a little hungry.”

“Same.”

The Pavilion Lord said,

“Ah, let me prepare a meal for you.”

I nodded calmly.

“Thank you, Pavilion Lord.”

“Of course.”

“If there’s anything you’re curious about, don’t hesitate. Ask freely.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll spar with you from time to time too.”

For some reason, the Pavilion Lord answered tersely.

“Much appreciated.”

I looked at the Pavilion Lord and gave him a thumbs-up.

“...Greatest Sword of Mount Hua.”

The Pavilion Lord didn’t respond. The Lecher and Sambok also gave him a thumbs-up.

I glanced at my eldest brother, but he turned his head and murmured as he looked around the estate.

“The scenery here is quite nice.”

After settling the duel and meeting the Greatest Sword of Mount Hua, the scenery indeed looked pleasant to me too.

That was enough.