The third match ended, and at last, it was Seolhwa’s turn.

Seolhwa’s first opponent was Man Uhak, the Mount Hae Sect’s second disciple.

The Mount Hae Sect, a school based on a small island at the far southern edge of the Central Plains, had never drawn great expectations—until now.

That shift began when Il Jirang, their first disciple, overturned everyone’s predictions and claimed the Martial Alliance’s Azure Dragon Division Lord’s seat.

“The Mount Hae Sect is sending a disciple.”

“Division Lord Il said he’s one of their rising prospects.”

“Oh? Now that’s something to look forward to. Who’s the opponent?”

“If it’s Namgoong Seolhwa—that’s the Sword Emperor’s granddaughter, isn’t it?”

From the pavilion that overlooked the duel, those watching looked forward to the Mount Hae disciple’s sword.

Publicly, Namgoong Seolhwa was a child who’d only just begun learning the Namgoong sword; few spared her any interest.

“Mmph! My future granddaughter-in-law is finally on!”

With a few Clan Heads as the exception.

The mood in the stands was much the same.

“Man Uhak! Man Uhak!”

“Go, Sword Emperor’s granddaughter!”

Those who had seen Man Uhak fight chanted his name; few had seen Seolhwa’s duels properly.

“How’s Namgoong Seolhwa? Any good?”

“I don’t know either. She’s the Sword Emperor’s granddaughter—probably good, right?”

“Namgoong Seolhwa is that kid. The one the Namgoong Clan searched for years ago.”

Unlike the previous matches, the cheers were mixed with a low buzz of speculation.

“Seolhwa. Don’t get hurt. Do well.”

Peng Hogwang cheered as Seolhwa headed for the stage. Beside him stood Peng Mirang, broad-shouldered as her brother.

“If you’re doing it anyway, then win!”

Peng Mirang smacked Seolhwa on the back—pow!—with rowdy gusto.

As her reputation for a straightforward, big-sister temperament suggested, she offered unreserved encouragement despite barely exchanging greetings before.

After Seolhwa thanked Mirang, she turned to Hogwang.

“You’re up right after me, Young Lord Peng?”

“Yeah.”

“Get ready. I’ll be done quickly.”

The Peng siblings’ eyes went round.

Seolhwa gave them a short nod and walked toward the dueling stage.

From behind came Peng Mirang’s hearty laugh.

“Ahahaha! ‘Done quickly’—that kid is hilarious! Ahahahaha!”

Seolhwa climbed the stairs to the stage.

The arena fell silent for a breath when she came into view.

Cheering and shouts surged back a moment later, but that brief hush left a strong afterimage that drew every gaze to Seolhwa.

Tap. Tap.

As she reached the top step, Seop Mugwang came into view.

He, too, was looking at her.

— (voice transmission) Nervous?

— (voice transmission) Not at all.

— (voice transmission) As expected of my favored disciple.

You only have one disciple.

After giving the two a quick explanation of the rules, Seop Mugwang sent them to their marks.

Returning to her spot, Seolhwa glanced toward the pavilion.

Her grandfather and father, the Clan Heads, and the leaders of the sects—

Familiar faces all.

A strange expectation colored their expressions.

“...”

Seolhwa stood and offered the sword salute.

Mount Hae’s Man Uhak readied himself as well.

Left-handed sword.

She had never truly seen the Mount Hae sword in her previous life.

She’d heard it was famously left-handed and rough—but never had the chance to cross it.

This’ll be fun.

Fwap—!

The flag dropped.

Man Uhak lunged for Seolhwa the instant it fell.

Tat-tat-tat-tat—!

Sword-qi shimmered off his blade like heat-haze.

It meant he intended to go all-out from the first breath.

Bzzzt....

Seolhwa, too, raised her internal energy to meet him.

Red and white qi seeped up around her.

“Haa!”

Reverse-Hand Sword.

Judged purely as a system, it’s often called an incomplete sword art—but it’s the Mount Hae Sect’s basic form, carrying every bit of their unique character.

Man Uhak had drawn the style he knew best.

Clang—! Cl-clang! Cl-cl-clang!

Calmly tracing the routes of his swordwork, Seolhwa caught and returned each stroke.

It was, without question, a blade of a different grain than any she’d faced to now.

The Mount Hae sword is a battlefield sword.

A blade focused solely on killing and dropping the enemy.

Where countless Central Plains styles seem to aim at learning the sword itself, the Mount Hae sword exists to survive.

For that reason it’s less “upright” than “underhanded,” favoring motions that stab vital points to end a fight rather than cleanly cutting an opponent down.

In that sense, it’s closer to an assassin’s arts.

Strange, yet familiar—that must be why.

Cl-cl-clang!

Indeed—an intriguing sword.

That’s enough spectating.

Hoo—

Seolhwa’s eyes flashed as she stopped merely receiving his blade.

At the instant a pulse of power surged off her—just for a heartbeat—Man Uhak flinched and stalled before he knew it.

That moment. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Kaaang—

Seolhwa’s sword smashed across Man Uhak’s.

In that short clash of steel, she chopped through with clean, decisive force; the vibration ran down the blade and into Man Uhak’s grip without loss.

“Kh!”

A stab of sharp pain—and Man Uhak reflexively lost his sword.

Whirr— thwack—!

Seolhwa didn’t miss the opening; she spun through the air and kicked his sword.

Whoom— whoom— The flying blade shot clean off the stage and thunk—!—into a wooden pillar of the pavilion.

Tap.

Only then did Seolhwa alight lightly on the floor.

“...”

A sudden stillness swept the arena.

Disbelieving, Man Uhak turned his head toward the pillar and the sword buried to the hilt.

From start to finish, not a single beat made sense.

Slide—

Startled, Man Uhak stared at the woman’s hand extended before him.

He couldn’t bring himself to take it; he looked up at Namgoong Seolhwa.

Seolhwa, who’d meant to help him up, went, “Ah,” and spoke.

“Would you like to continue?”

He might still have palm or fist arts left, after all.

But Man Uhak hastily shook his head.

And then—

“Wooooaah!!”

“Incredible! Namgoong Seolhwa!!”

“Namgoong Seolhwa! Namgoong Seolhwa!!”

A roar as overwhelming as the duel itself.

Helping Man Uhak to his feet, Seolhwa looked out over the crowd.

“Seolhwa! Seolhwa!”

They chanted her name with one voice.

A difference in skill that flipped doubt into certainty in an instant.

“Did you see? That child did not take a single step.”

One of the sect leaders who didn’t know Seolhwa said so.

Even those who had seen her earlier bouts and knew her strength were struck speechless by what she’d shown.

“Did you see?”

Mount Hua’s Sect Leader, No Un, spoke softly to Shaolin’s Abbot, Beopgong.

“At the end she clearly changed the hand that held the sword.”

Beopgong nodded.

“Left-handed sword.”

She read her opponent’s swordwork with interest—and in the end, mirrored it.

Easy to say. But is it truly possible?

To watch on the spot and copy it on the spot.

“Huh... A tremendous martial talent has appeared in the martial world.”

“The Sword Emperor must be truly pleased—to have a granddaughter like that.”

“Hah-hah-hah! Don’t forget—it’s the child I’ve set my eye on!”

****

“So we meet on the stage after all, Snow-Plum Sabre.”

“So ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) we do. Honestly, I thought I’d be facing someone else.”

“Hah! You thought I’d be eliminated?”

“I won’t deny that was the hope.”

“Now that’s a hurtful thing to say.”

Playful words—but Yu Gang’s eyes on Jegal Hwi were grave.

From the previous bout, Jegal Hwi had proven stronger than expected.

He hadn’t reached the main event on guile alone; with nothing but a fan, he’d dropped Mount Heng Sect’s disciple Jong Ryongpung, saluted the crowd with easy composure, and left the stage.

He never even went all-out.

Which meant he was likely still hiding something.

“I can’t afford to be careless.”

“!”

“Is that what you were thinking, perhaps?”

Yu Gang tightened his grip on his sabre.

“You’re a fine warrior.”

“How long will you keep flapping your mouth?”

“I was just about to begin.”

Tchk—

Jegal Hwi flicked his fingers.

His figure split—into two, into four—and in a blink, into ten.

“!”

Yu Gang stared, dumbfounded, at the multiplied Jegal Hwis.

“What in the...?!”

Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh—!

The Jegal Hwis snapped open their fans in unison.

Then, with drilled precision, they began to encircle Yu Gang.

Caught off guard, Yu Gang hesitated, shuffling back with no good option forward or back.

“Which one do I strike?”

Which is real?

A person cannot split into many.

So it had to be deception.

But which was real... he couldn’t tell.

From all ten he felt the same current of internal energy.

As if all ten were genuine.

Sh-sh-sh-sh-shk-!

“!”

Five of the ten rushed him at once.

Yu Gang desperately parried as the attacks converged from every side.

Cl-cl-cl-clang—!

All five were real.

If they were fakes, his blade should have met nothing; instead every clash landed with weight.

But that’s impossible!

How could a man become ten? It made no sense.

While receiving Jegal Hwi’s blows, Yu Gang thought and thought again.

If not all ten were real, yet they all felt real—

It’s a formation that confuses the senses!

His senses were lying.

The moment he realized it, Yu Gang closed his eyes and fixed on the flow of qi.

Since childhood he’d been confident in reading currents; there was no hesitation.

The flurry of strikes from the Jegal Hwis came pouring toward Yu Gang, wide open with his eyes shut—

And at the instant those fans were about to touch him—

Found you.

In the darkness behind his closed eyes, Yu Gang picked the true Jegal Hwi’s qi out of the weave.

At once, the false attacks became empty phantoms and did him no harm.

Tap—!

Sun-bright vermilion flame flared over Yu Gang’s body.

With his target set, his sabre did not waver.

Ta-da-dat!

When Yu Gang’s blade came within a single palm of Jegal Hwi—

“Didn’t I say? I’ve wagered on your championship.”

“...?”

Jegal Hwi raised his hand.

“I forfeit.”

But Yu Gang didn’t stop.

Hoooh—

As if he hadn’t heard, he brought the sabre up and swept in—

KAAANG—!!

A single sword slipped in and barred the sabre with casual ease.

Blocking Yu Gang’s blade without a hint of concern, Seop Mugwang spoke to Jegal Hwi as if it gave him a headache.

“Forfeit, my ass. Disqualified, you brat.”